Wayward Whiskers and Untamed Eyebrows
By Wendy Pierman Mitzel
What is the protocol for alerting a fellow human to a hair in their honker?
You know what I’m talking about, the hairs, like spider legs that creep out from within the nostril. Usually sported by older men, these hairy horrors are hard to miss. Or are they? Because apparently, they become invisible when seen in the mirror. How is this getting by the morning routine? Let’s see: brush teeth, wash face, shave, big hairy proboscis, brush hair, aftershave. Now, I’ve seen those on the drug store shelves the torture devices that probe and spin like a weed wacker up the schnoz and I imagine it’s not a soothing massage for the muzzle. But still, let’s get it over with and give it a trim already.
Moving on... Let us not forget for the ear hair. Another grand joke played on those getting older. How do you bring that up in conversation? Start with a compliment? “Hi, wow, your nose hair is so nice and tidy but could I just point out that the hair in your ears is beginning to look like a homegrown set of ear muffs?” I believe the schnoz wacker is multi-functional and can be used gently and cautiously although Men’s Fitness suggests plucking - Read more...
I love walking my old, two-pooper lab. Carrying it around for those long walks really stink. How about a place to dump it?
If you live in a small New England town, with a sleepy Main Street lined with old houses and tree-lined sidewalks on both sides, you’re lucky enough to enjoy the simple luxury of accessibility. People from all over town, and even outside the downtown area, bring friends to stroll up and down these beautiful tree-lined paths. These friends may have two legs or four as main streets are perfectly suited for dog-walking.
I have a Black Lab, Tuff. He’s a two-poop walker. It’s a proper form of etiquette to pick up after your pet. Yet, the humorously awkward portion of the walk, is having to carry Tuff’s dangling load for the remainder of the walk. I often witness others in the same predicament. I particularly find the most enjoyment watching the masculine types, walking tiny lap dogs...poop bag tied to the leash. That’s love! Yes, it is embarrassing, and not particularly hygiene free...especially if the four legged companion has experienced digestive issues. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had random poop drops or trash receptacles up 
I’m not embarrassed. I’ll be the first to admit it... I’ll take a year to finish a sleepy novel. Granted, I usually have three to four books rotating on a regular basis, dog-eared-pages waiting in turn. I’ve always felt the need to be “reading something.”
Yet, on occasion, we come across a book that grabs us, handicaps us, makes us sit in the uncomfortable chair in the kitchen. The kind of book where the dishes collect in the sink. Lunch is forgotten. We stay in our stretchy pajamas, ignore our hair and don’t make the trip upstairs to brush our teeth. The flower beds we plan to weed, remain overgrown. The porch still needs to be swept, errands still need to be run.
The kind of book that when neighbors pop over and gaze at our hobo-style appearance we say: “Yeah...I look like hell, but I’m reading a great book...can’t put it down.”
What’s wonderful about confessing to such indulgence is the understanding and appreciative nod as well as a sparked interest into what material would have such an affect as to forget to shower.
“Must be good...what book?” they inquire.
And although it doesn’t happen very often, reading something 
By Cami Beiter ~~~~ What was that scrambled mess-of-a-quote George W. made some 12 years ago? “Fool me once, shame on...shame on you. Fool me...you can’t get fooled again.” After the fourth time, you think I’d learn...or put my foot down. With each experience of selling my daughter’s gently used clothing to Plato’s Closet, (her wallet) and expectations were always short changed. But like a love sick teenage girl, I kept thinking, maybe the next time will be better.
According to their website, Plato’s Closet buys and sells the latest looks in brand name gently used clothing accessories for teen and twenty-something guys and girls. Re-selling clothing has become a hot trend. You need to be choosy in what you present to a consignment or resale shop.
For us, this is a familiar routine. Peyton would clean out her closet of shorts, jeans, shirts, sweatshirts, shoes, boots and scarves...All items that either no longer fit or didn’t tickle her fancy. She’d separate, wash, dry and fold the items, placing them in bags or large plastic bins. When our schedules were free, and the planets were aligned just right, we’d venture off to Plato’s Closet.
I could 
By Tim Jensen ~~~~~~ In the summer of 2008, I was on top of the world. I had two wonderful children, was editor-in-chief of my hometown newspaper, was coaching high school ice hockey and had just recorded the third hole-in-one of my life (on three different golf courses, in three different decades). Suddenly, in September of that year, almost everything changed. I had been experiencing increasing pain in my left leg throughout the summer, and in typical guy fashion, waited about six weeks before deciding to see a doctor. While awaiting the test results, I was laid off from my job. A week later came the diagnosis: a form of cancer called diffuse large B-cell lymphoma in my left femur. In layman’s terms, cancer had eroded away some of my left thighbone. The first step was surgery to attach more than a foot of stabilizing stainless steel to the bone. I am, to say the least, an extremely difficult patient, and Dr. Kevin Raskin and the staff at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston did a phenomenal job during my eight-day stay there. A few days after returning home, I began suffering excruciating pain in the leg and called East Windsor Ambulance. Within an hour of arrival at Baystate 
By Cami Beiter ~~~~~ As I sit thinking about Memorial Day and its meaning, I continue to think about it’s perception on the younger generation. If we don’t emphasize and stress the importance of the sacrifices our service members have made (or making), how will they come to appreciate the luxury of their freedom?
Reminding them to thank a soldier or thinking about grandpa and his war time duty, isn’t enough. To them, it’s like telling them to clean their room. If they aren’t truly vested with a clear understanding, they won’t appreciate the message.
What they need to understand is sacrifice, something we typically think nothing of on any given day. But talk to a veteran or a family affected by war and you will find a story.
During WWII, my grandfather was a U.S. Army Paratrooper serving in Europe and member of the Office Of Strategic Services (O.S.S). For nearly four years, he had virtually no written communication with my grandmother. She would frequently receive a typed letter from a war office in Washington D.C., saying he was alive but whereabouts classified.
My father missed my brother’s first birthday while on his first tour in Vietnam. 
By Wendy Pierman Mitzel ~~~~~~~ It's always surprising to me that Memorial Day is usually a big party instead of a solemn day of remembrance for the American soldiers who have died defending our freedom and freedoms of other peoples. I suppose we could say those men and women died for our right to slap a steak on the grill and we should show our appreciation by doing so. By all means, I say we should celebrate their lives with patriotism and the American way.
But since visiting other countries and learning about their customs it occurs to me that I, myself, should make more of an effort to really honor the day in the way it was intended.
"Originally known as Decoration Day, it originated in the years following the Civil War and became an official federal holiday in 1971," informs the History Channel. We closed shops and schools and met to decorate the graves of fallen soldiers. We didn't go out to buy mattresses at rock-bottom-prices.
So perhaps to assuage my own guilt over not taking the day seriously enough in the past, I am passing these bits of info along. And myself looking to teach my kids a bit of meaning behind the day off of school.
Here's a few things you