Author: Beth Lock

I called my dad yesterday to wish him a happy Father’s Day. As always we had a nice conversation. He told me about the

On Animal Absurdities: The Chinese are tattooing pigs and the Hollywood elite are arranging marraiges between Golden Retrievers and Chihuahuas. Who says culture is

Safety Officer is one of the many titles I hold at my place of employment, and as such it is my job to write

One of my thoughts on New Year’s Resolutions this year was to post to my blogspace here at MyMac on a regular basis, as

27 out of 127 were Paris Hilton spams. The rest were not worth mentioning. Oh, all right. 28 were for the ‘patch’. 19 were

I process payroll for our small manufacturing company. We pay twice a month, on the 5th and the 20th. Today when I arrived at

I got my spam mixed up which resulted in an increase in my mortgage interest, and a decrease in the size of my breasts.

There are not enough daylight hours yet. (Oh, I keep getting interrupted by spam. Like, who writes to me anymore? Yet the hope is

I did not garden tonight. But I did make appetizers before dinner, which delayed dinner; tuna stuffed mushrooms with six cheeses and scallions. Dinner,

My big dog Oreo died Monday, around five pm. We took her to the vet because after talking with him on the phone I

I was out planting the dog tonight when my son drove up with the grandbrats. He brought the baby girl in the house, “Hi!”

Other than baseball, which I followed for a time in the late eighties because of a slight romantic interest in Drop Dead Gorgeous Ted,

I hate housework. Well, hate is a pretty strong emotion, I suppose, to apply to chores. Hate should be reserved for other things, like

Menopause has galloped back into my life in a big way, with hot flashes and night sweats dominating the personal weather scene. OK, fine,

We took a quickie road trip this past weekend to Sedona, Arizona via the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. The ever lovely Carmel

The owner of the company I work for has a name that can be either male or female. For the purposes of this story

During the late ’70’s and early ’80’s I lived in Spokane, Washington. My wasband and I were scratching out a very poor existence as

I think that’s what I’ll rename my blog: Today’s Gripe. Of course, I’m menopausal. Perhaps in a few years I’ll mellow out again. Since

I noticed while making the bed the other morning that our bedroom is starting to look like old people live in our house. Two