Good for what ails you.

If you're 40-, 50-, or 60-something and wondering where the life force went, an ad on Facebook says to try this:


















Pay no attention to the Facebook ad. Here's what the doctor actually ordered:














"Shine a Light," Martin Scorsese's Rolling Stones concert film, shows you the age-defying powers of talent, passion, love, and attitude.

You can't really say the Rolling Stones are looking good. But you can say they're looking better than I am.

And really, how they look is beside the point.

Mick's still got unbelievable moves and stamina to go with his ageless pipes. The rock and roll--even the really old music--is vital and exciting.

The next time I see the movie, though, my plan is to watch Keith Richards from start to finish. From (spoiler alert!) spontaneously giving his guitar away to blues god Buddy Guy to sharing frequent laughs with his mates to kneeling down and making eyes at the fans in the front row. the guy is pure love.

Whoever thought pure love would look like that?

Back to the Ozarks

Yup. The hubby and I packed up our hoodies & sweatpants and headed back to the Lake of the Ozarks.

We visited our pals the herons just west of the Bagnell Dam, a major hydroelectric deal:

You'll never guess what we saw on our way back to town. Here's a hint:


















That's right, Sherlock. We had to hit the brakes to avoid making a nice warm coat for me out of one of these:



















How weird is that? We're leaving the dam. And we see a beaver. Verily, the god of wordplay smiled on us that day.

Later on, wanting to watch the KU/Villanova game, we decided to stick with the weekend's "immature euphemism" theme and tried this place:












There weren't actual woodpeckers playing the pianos, although after the beaver thing nothing would have surprised me. I recommend Peckers if you enjoy unselfconscious group sing-alongs with fairly accomplished piano players. Karaoke for cowards, you might call it. Good, clean, loud fun.

We drove home today through Cole Camp, Missouri, home of this famous crossroads:




















Oh come on. Can I help it if the universe wants me to think like a seventh grader once in awhile?

Guys in Ties!

My guys, that is.

Joey's and Danny's band, Brainbow, had a big break last week--a gig at First Fridays, Kansas City's monthly tour of art galleries. Joey popped in at our place around 3:00, freaked out because the guys couldn't find their trademark rainbow-colored ties.

Parenting books will fault me for this (the guys are 20 and 22, after all), but I volunteered to handle the sartorial crisis so Joey could tend to more pressing matters (loading up the equipment for the gig and getting Dan's oil changed).

When I hit the stores and found four somewhat-matching ties, I felt like the conquering heroine. (Did I mention that I get a new house when Brainbow hits the big time?) But on the way to check-out, I was reduced to tears by the rack of miniature three-piece manchild suits displayed for Easter.

It took me back to Easters past, when the guys were too little to rebel against the short gingham pants with embroidered bunnies.

I also remembered dressing the boys up for Grandma...
















And the panic on the mornings of middle school choir concerts, when we had to find white shirts, dark pants, and nice ties for all three boys. Planning ahead is not in anyone's DNA around here!

The band members do look great in their ties. And God bless Steve for teaching them how to tie the Windsor knot. (I married a preppie!) Artsy glamour shot or photographer error? I'm not saying.

















I don't know what this Easter will look like for me but am pretty sure it won't include dressing anyone up in gingham shorts. Also, there will be no ham. Or bonnets. like in 1961:

















That was the only year my sister Lisa and I managed to talk mom into ordering the matching dresses (coincidentally gingham) from the Sears catalog. We thought it was cool. Mom found it cheesy.

Once again, life's tiny details come full circle and connect me to parts of the past I thought I'd forgotten. Amazing how that works.

In the spirit of the equal time doctrine...

Jack and Hill

I coined two new words after the last Ohio debate

Shrillary. Come on. Just answer the questions. So what if you have to go first? Maybe after they get Barack a pillow they should get you a box of Kleenex. The "poor me" thing isn't going to play too well in a state screwed by NAFTA.




Hillabuster. I've been in meetings where this happens. One domineering party fails to "take turns," so everyone else fights to get a word in edgewise. Clinton justifies not yielding the floor with phrases like, "No wait. This is important."

Oh...we get it. This is way more important than whatever the candidate everybody LIKES is trying to say. It feels like old politics to me.

The weird thing is I started out feeling good about both of these candidates. (Well, I do feel better about either of them than McCain.) Still, what's the opposite of "endearing oneself?" That's what Hillary has done to me over the past few months.