Jane Baskin, Author

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Wed, 27 Jan 2016 18:37:00 +0000

It's Been A While

Well, this time I can really say I'm back. That's because I am RETIRED.

Oh yes. Let me savor that wonderful word. RETIRED. RE-TI-RED. Retired. Re-tired.

Possible synonyms: Broke. Worried? Damn fool? What's for supper? Supper? Are you kidding?

Well, sometimes you just gotta jump. On December 29, 2015, I reached a birthday that shall not be named. On December 31, 2015, I threw in the work-til-you-drop-but-it's-a-paycheck towel. Nowhere near enough money saved. (That's a pretty big club these days). But ... what the hell. As Mehitabel the cat famously said, "there's a dance in the old dame yet."

Where to from here? Writing. What else? I am determined to give my avocation a try before:

I die
Working kills me
Worry kills me
I go broke anyhow

So, I shall resume promotion of my first book, Jane of the Jungle. This never really got off the ground because - you guessed it - I was busy working. And I shall finish the bizarre trilogy I'm currently working on, A New Earth. I call it "social science" fiction, because it is set in the near future with alien visitors and space ships and such, but it's really about how we are, here on Earth, now ... and how we change (or not) when our space age starts overnight.

Also in the works: the non-fiction work DEVIANCE, about my forty years in social work. And a sequel to Jane of the Jungle, which could be an ongoing nonsense ride of epic proportions. Wish me luck, and stick around!

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Tue, 29 Apr 2014 21:21:00 +0000

Update: Takes a Lickin' and Keeps on Tickin'

Life is tough, but I'm tougher. I'm still writing! Crescendo is almost done.

Maybe I live a dull life. I sit at my computer like a lump from dawn 'til dusk, and if I can't sleep, that's where I go. I watch TV in the evening to keep my husband company, but I'd rather be writing.

Perhaps all that stops me is the spread of my ass.

I have reached the age at which it's impossible to starve to death. Thinking about food puts on a pound; looking bug-eyed at an ice cream shop puts on two. And sitting at your desk all day grows
you two pants sizes. Whatever. I will not be deterred now.

My day job is like semi-retirement lately, thanks to a new ruling that slows down our referrals and keeps juvenile delinquents on the streets; so my writing career is going hells bells. I'm writing at least a thousand words a day on the novels, sometimes three or four thousand. It feels wonderful, especially after a hard life of tending the weird, the totally insane and the utterly unbelievable.

Of course, this is where my stories come from. Jane of the Jungle has been described as fantasy or magic realism, but many of the stories are true. The things people do to themselves and each other in this world are often not to be believed, and having had a front row seat at this Theater of Doom has left a few marks on me here and there. But ... it has also made me a terrific yarn spinner.

Back when I worked at the Bernalillo County jail, an exhausted counselor came in and said, "You couldn't make this sh*t up; no one would believe you."

There had to be a reason for being a witness at all that pain and suffering. I guess this is it.

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Thu, 30 Jan 2014 19:14:00 +0000

Maybe It's a Habit ...

I just finished another book. Yes. Another novel. This one is sci-fi, a major romp like Jane of the Jungle, but taking place between Earth and another planet with people who are genetically identical but far, far more civilized. Although they're a warrior culture; but that's just part of the fun.

It's actually part of a trilogy, called The New Earth. The first book (just finished) is Rhapsody, the second, Crescendo, the last Liebestod. Yes, I love music. And ... the human lifespan is kind of a work of music. I've just started on Crescendo, and it flows. It's easy stuff to write, because I've been walking around with this fantasy in my head for oh, probably ten years or so.

Writers are dreamers. When life sucks, as it often does, there's always fantasy. Sometimes I worry that I spend too much time in fantasy and not enough in the real world; so I come back to the real world and presto! back to fantasy I go. I'm not worried that I'll go nuts. I couldn't go nuts if
I tried, and I have.

No, I work with nuts, and while I don't judge them, I can't be like them. Being crazy is a special talent, and a special brain biology that I just don't have. Instead, I have the brain of a writer. Dream, dream, and write it all down.

I even dream books, literally. The other night I dreamed a silly summer read about a serial killer who bewitches a woman to partner with him in a bizarre romance. When she finally gets out, he takes up with her sister. Puke; but hell, who else dreams movies? Once, I even dreamed an old fashioned romance in sepia tint.

So this is the plan: write like a mother*cker, have five books by September, then do nothing but promote for the whole next year. If that doesn't do something, then I'll just go back to dreaming. But not to worry - there's a dance in the old dame yet.

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Mon, 13 Jan 2014 02:12:00 +0000

Back, Yet Again ...

This time I was away, like, forever.

Did I give up? For a while, I think.

But - that's me - takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin' ...

I moved "home", which was back to Santa Fe. I have decided Santa Fe is my home. For most of my life it was New England, but I haven't been home in 20 years, and I had a decision to make. So I decided: Santa Fe. It's like Boston only weirder and friendlier.

I moved back from Albuquerque, which is so vanilla few people ever make up their minds about anything. Albuquerque is kind of like a giant strip mall, with ranch houses in between stores. I'm not saying it's a bad town - far from it. Albuquerque is a great town; it's just not as artsy and pretentious as Santa Fe.

And, I think I need artsy and pretentious. Yes. Truth time. I am an artsy pretentious person. Well, maybe not pretentious, but I need to be surrounded by some measure of sophistication and creativity. I need to say I'm from someplace cool. And who wants to be from Albuquerque?

(To the great city of Albuquerque: I'm sorry. I tried!)

Now I'm in debt up to my eyeballs and beyond, but happily
settled in Santa Fe AND Albuquerque. Still haven't sold my mountain house

(hence the debt). Praying that Barnum was right when he said there's a sucker born every minute....

But I made the right decision. As soon as I moved back to Santa Fe, the creative juices started flowing - or flooding, as the case may be. It took about six months to get settled, and then of course it was gardening season, when I always lose my mind; but now:

I am writing my a** off. I just finished another book, sci-fi/mysticism, and have started on the sequel. Also started the sequel to Jane of the Jungle. And have written a non-fiction book on my experiences in social work. Of the lot of them, the non-fiction is undoubtedly the most bizarre.

This year: write. Next year: publish. Wish me luck!

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Tue, 04 Jun 2013 18:40:00 +0000

But I'm Also a Social Worker....

In my quest to return to writing for a living, I neglect the fact that I have spent most of my adult life in the belly of the monster.

I wrote for a Boston newspaper to put myself through grad school; then when I got my degree, I actually left writing and went into social work. I will not try to ascertain why. There are some things God keeps secret from us, and it's probably for the best.

What do social workers do? They climb into a front row seat at the Theater of Doom, and reach out to help in any way they can. They talk to kids in schools, trying to get them to give a sh*t about graduating so they can be free of their crazy drug dealing families, then understand they don't want to be free of them. Family is family. It is powerful.

Sometimes I saw some of those kids later, in jail. I ran
the counseling part of the psychiatric service at the county jail in Albuquerque, and it was sad the day a new inmate remembered me and asked me to say hi to my daughter. They had been classmates at parochial school.

Social workers listen to stories most people wouldn't believe. The mother who would pull down her eleven-year old son's pants "to teach him about himself, you know?" The prostitute's kids hiding out in a motel room, waiting for mommy to get home. The schoolteacher picked up in a prostitution sweep who denied her drug habit and just said, "My husband won't work. I have a 12 year old daughter to support. What am I supposed to do?"

All my professional life, I have bitched about being a social worker. The pay, the crazies, the depressing nature of the work. But, as I get older, I think God knew what he was doing. I am a witness, to the underside of life that no one wants to talk about. And from now on, I will talk about it. Someone has to. And when you think about it, a writer is a pretty good candidate.

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 15:03:00 +0000

On Immortality

"...I would be horrified to be immortal and have to keep enduring life's insulting jokes for eternity. I was just trying to stop the depressing wearing down of my body. Oh, why could we not just stop aging at about forty or so and then die at the normal time?" (Jane of the Jungle, p. 47)

Wanting to live forever is a popular theme ... but ... the maniacs can have it. Can you say b-o-r-e-d-o-m? Plus, I happen to believe there are other lives besides this one. What they are exactly, I have no idea; but I do know that energy can be changed, but never created or destroyed. And we are energy, are we not?

Although it seems, less so as we get older.... But scientists are hot on the trail of the cure for progeria, the disease in which children age prematurely and die at 12 or so. In their quest, they found out about a critical factor in the aging process .... yes! I vote for Life 2.0, or Adulthood, Second Stage.

Think about it. You could:

be a babe forever
no more achy joints
you could scratch where it itches
get enough sleep
live long enough to sample every micro brewery in the world.

Of course, defining the lifespan would pose problems. How long is a life? 100 years? 300? Uh.... and if it were three hundred, would I have to stay married to the same guy for 275 years?

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Tue, 16 Oct 2012 21:15:00 +0000

A Fart... or a Hurrah?

That is a Yankee saying. Actually, a very Yankee saying. I first heard it from an elderly gentleman in my country store in Vermont, back in the day. I was trying to sell him some chairs. He said, "I wouldn't give you a fart or a hurrah for those chairs." I laughed so hard he bought them.

What a wonderful saying! What a wonderful way to put your disdain. Think about it:

I wouldn't give you a fart or a hurrah for ... politicians' promises
I wouldn't give you a fart or a hurrah for ... my hopes of a comfy old age
I wouldn't give you a fart or a hurrah for ... most peoples' hopes of a comfy old age
I wouldn't give you a fart or a hurrah for ... Paris Hilton
I would give her a fart AND a hurrah if she would hide in her garage for the rest of her life.

What else? As we get older, we are entitled to disdain lots of stuff. And what a way to put it. Feel free to chime in.

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Thu, 27 Sep 2012 23:05:00 +0000

Reaching Out ... To Whom?

Lots of people ask me who my readers are. I think they are - or should be - women, maybe older women. Right? Wrong, I think ....

Now keep in mind, Jane of the Jungle has been read by everyone from hip older women to twenty somethings of both genders, men of all ages, family, friends, and some stranger I paid ten bucks to in a down moment. (He said he liked it) And it's done very well in contests, placing in four out of five I entered it in, and who knows who the judges are?

Well, it's about a woman, an adventuress. But it's also about a man, a mobster who hates his job. And it's (big time!) about a tiger, who was struck by lightning and can think and communicate telepathically.

The heroine, Jane of the Jungle, is 60. So, older people, right? But ... Pussy, the biker queen, is around 40, and the crowd that makes up the Balls of Steel Motorcycle Club is all different ages .... and Sadji (the tiger) is only two ....

Help! Who is this crazy book for?? It seems to be about everyone....

Maybe it's for misfits. Hmmnn ... maybe there's a thought. Jane of the Jungle is a misfit because she lives life like a twenty something and so does her 60 something lover ..... and the motorcycle club folks are all weirdos and misfits that can't live straight lives .... and the tiger ... well hell, where can a telepathic tiger live...

Maybe Jane of the Jungle is for people who don't fit neatly into the various slots life usually offers, people who are like square pegs in round holes, people who feel a constant hum of discontent no matter how they try to ignore it, who yearn for something more than getting by and then doing it over and over every day ....

Yes, that's it. Jane of the Jungle is for people who have 1. a heart 2. a brain 3. a spirit 4. a laugh and 5. unique ways of looking at life.

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Mon, 24 Sep 2012 21:59:00 +0000

A Tidbit On Tigers

The other day some guy jumped into the tiger enclosure at the Bronx Zoo. He said he wanted to be "one with the tiger."

The tiger did not eat him, which is the only way I can think of that he would have been one with the tiger. After all, this tiger lives in New York. New Yorkers know the difference between good food and garbage.

What is it about tigers? Whether we love them or hate them, cats are admired for their beauty, agility, ferocity. And tigers are the biggest cats in the world. They are orange. Orange is outrageous. A tiger is even the star of Jane of the Jungle:

"Everything's gone to sh*t, and now I'm discussing theology with a tiger." (Jane of the Jungle, p. 83) When Jane meets Sadji, her life has taken not one but several turns for the weird. As if all living could be pressed into a sewing thimble, she has experienced more in the last month than in sixty years. And who could help her sort it out but a tiger? No other creature is majestic enough to hold so much.

What if tigers could think the way we do? Or communicate?

The conversation at the Bronx Zoo might have gone something like:

"Check it out, guys, a gift from the sky."
"Does he have a key?"
"Let me drag him around for a while and see if it falls out of his pocket."
"No key."
"Eat him?"
"I would never eat anything that stupid."
"Me neither. Hey, someone's calling you. Maybe they have something worth eating."

Sadji, Jane of the Jungle's friend, would no doubt have a similar opinion. "Perhaps the man thought he could fly," he might have thought. "Humans, you know, are capable of some pretty outlandish beliefs."

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Wed, 19 Sep 2012 18:01:00 +0000

To Be Free, or Not To Be....

from Lian

In Jane of the Jungle on page 2, Jane, a recent widow, throws over her previous typical life of caring for a beloved husband and working at a job to keep it all going:

“Afterward I was drowning in medical bills and couldn’t pay the mortgage. So one day I just up and quit my emergency nursing job and wrote several letters: one to the bank, thanking them for the house and giving it back to them; one to the bill collectors suggesting they put their bills in their collective rectum; and one to my priest asking him to pray for my outlaw soul and vote Democrat in the next election.”

I am retired, after a long history of working at jobs where I always got rave job evaluations once a year and lots of sh*t from

bosses on a weekly basis. Occasionally, it was deserved, but mostly it was a wife/husband who said no, being cut off in traffic, heartburn, a mouthy kid, or any of the number of things people in charge seem to bring to work with them.

It makes me sad to think that being good at your work does not exempt one from being a target.

How often as a wife, mother, worker, I wanted to do exactly what Jane did, to throw over my traces and run free. I didn’t, having a child and a lack of courage at the time; but sometimes, when I am alone and quiet, I wonder what might have been.

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Fri, 14 Sep 2012 19:30:00 +0000

JJ....Feminist??

It occurred to me recently that Jane of the Jungle is a feminist work.

One reviewer (who liked the book, BTW) mentioned that it was not believable that Jane would be so expert at so many things, specifically that she would be a hobby pilot, a crack shot with a handgun, and a nurse.

If she were a male hero, would anyone have questioned that?

Now I’m a relatively quiet feminist. I just do my thing and let the chips fall where they may. I’m a good shot (not great) and an expert clinician (behavioral health), although I don’t (yet) know how to fly a plane. (Like Jane, I did have a high school boyfriend who wanted to teach me, but I didn’t like him enough to hang in there) All my life I have wanted to have adventures, and I have no doubt that if the situation were desperate, I could shoot someone without a second thought.

Most women live relatively dull lives, and most of them like it that way. Most people, male or female, like dull. But for those who don’t….why can’t girls play too?

And when they do, why don’t people believe them?

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Sun, 09 Sep 2012 21:46:00 +0000

About Her

Her is my sister, that is. Her name is Lian, she is taller, heavier, shares my disdain for aging gracefully, but unfortunately has fibromyalgia. The majority of her days she gets up and decides to keep going; the few remaining ones she goes back to bed. Or for a walk; according to her both work. She loves white clam sauce and spaghetti, her dog Billy (a shepherd – heeler cross), Joe, painting, writing poetry, diamonds in the larger carats, and naps. She is more opinionated than I am, four years older, hates lying in the sun tanning (which is why she does not yet need a face lift but agrees that when she needs one, she will have it), and still believes chocolate is one of the food groups.

BUT she is retired now after three careers (legal secretary, human resources generalist, and teacher), and thus has more time than I do, since I have two years left to work before I can. So she has asked, and I have gracefully granted, permission to blog with me on Forever Kinda Young.

So you will periodically be reading some of her writing as well as mine.

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Mon, 25 Jun 2012 19:00:00 +0000

Some People Never Learn....

So I decided to enter another contest, the one I had decided not to enter. It's the Hollywood Book Festival, where sometimes your book gets within striking distance of the film industry. I suspect I have less common sense than God gave a cantaloupe, but what the hell.

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Mon, 25 Jun 2012 08:03:00 +0000

OH. WOW. Now What Do I Do?

The reason I haven't posted in so long is that I was just about to shelve Jane of the Jungle due to not having the time to keep up with promotion. My life is such that I'm busier than a one armed paperhanger most of the time and I just fizzled....

But today I found out that JJ won the silver medal in the Foreword Book of the Year Contest.

1. Yeehaw. 2. Now what the h*** do I do?

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 19:59:00 +0000

Bully For Me?

I don't usually crow, but....

Foreword just emailed me a bunch of info on how great it is to be a finalist in their Book of the Year Awards. And you know what? It is. Check it out: https://botya.forewordreviews.com/books/jane-of-the-jungle/

My book may not be selling like hotcakes, but here's the deal: it's a good book. Every single reviewer I've asked for a review on Amazon has given it 4 or 5 stars. And I just found out from Publishers Weekly that my book was not only listed in the January issue of PW Select, it was selected for review.

So why ain't I rich? :)

Some possibilities:

good and successful are not the same. Modigliani starved to death.
you gotta have luck. Luck and I are barely on speaking terms.
you gotta have money. They say it takes money to make money, and they're not kidding. It takes all my spare change just to enter contests. But the big time - huge ads in major rags, TV appearances - these take money.
I am not personally acquainted with Oprah Winfrey.
How can I get acquainted with Oprah Winfrey?

Well, it's a nice start. My book may be a well kept little secret, but it's good. So...bully for me.

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 20:37:00 +0000

OMG!!! My book is a finalist in the Foreword Book of the Year Awards!!! This makes me happy.

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 18:42:00 +0000

The World Without Plastic Surgery

Good news: we're living longer. Bad news: we look like it. I know, I know; we're beautiful on the inside. But like the dude on the left, the outside can:

cause traffic accidents
make children cry
make dogs bite
cause birds to fly about shitting hysterically
etc.

What is worse, it can cause ugly old farts not to be taken seriously. You know what I'm saying. You're in line at the bank and some big dude cuts in front of you because he doesn't see you. You get up to the counter and the teller asks if she can help the person behind you. You have a complaint at the customer service desk and the worker hands you a form and tells you to fill it out and send it in. You give up trying to get a drink at the bar; what's the point?

But what if you look like this?

Okay, okay. Most 80 year olds won't come out looking like this. Still, you can bet your beebies she gets a drink at the bar, and she probably doesn't have to pay for it either!

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Wed, 28 Mar 2012 12:25:00 +0000

The Whirl of Being a Girl

We can:

work an extra job to afford birth control
be sluts when we get it
decide we can't afford it
quit having sex
and who would the guys sleep with then????
maybe we shouldn't answer that one

When I was a kid, I was a tomboy. I wanted my mother to call me Bobby, and she did, so that I would go the f*ck to sleep.

When I was a teenager I was torn between wanting to be pretty and wanting to beat the shit out of something.

As a young woman, I wanted man-skills as much as I wanted a man. I finally got married, but not until I learned how to do tune-ups on my own car and build a picnic table. Who knew if you could count on him?

As an old woman I am grateful for:

the vote (Oh Lord, don't let them take it back!)
being too old to get pregnant
ending my career before my pay goes down even more
not giving a damn what the world thinks of me.

In the current climate, I fear for women's equality. Barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen would be a possibility, except that since 99% of men can no longer be the sole support of a family, I suspect it will be barefoot, pregnant, and in the alley. Sigh.

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 16:47:00 +0000

My Day Job Sucks

My day job sucks. Let me count the ways:

Phone call to parent. Parent says @!%##!
Phone call from parent. Parent says (*&!!%!
Phone call from kid. Kid says !!**&!!
Phone call to JPO. JPO says you gotta work with this !@$$!! family.
Phone call to priest. Leave a message. Help me! !@#!!
Phone call from priest. Go to h@!$!!

Sometimes you just can't win. If you have a day job, you have to do this, do that, and then do everything else. And in my particular day job, you have to do it all while your clients are hating you, possibly plotting to kill you, definitely planning to steal the hubcaps off your car.

I argue with God continuously about being a writer. If I'm a writer, how come I have to spend my days in the belly of the monster?

God is curiously silent on the subject. Maybe I'll hear something by Easter.

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 22:34:00 +0000

Smile, Be Happy

I just read that a positive attitude slows aging. What a revelation!

Seriously, the piece said that genes are interactive, and even if you have good genes you have to have a good attitude. How to do this?

· Ignore your bank account
· If you have a bank account
· Ignore your mortgage
· You can’t pay it anyhow
· Ignore heat and cold.
· Wherever you live, you can’t afford to get the house to a comfortable temperature.
· If you have a house.

Okay, let’s get real. Is it possible to have a positive attitude in this economy? You betcha! The answer:

Life 2.0. In Life 2.0, all obstacles are just challenges we have to meet, hurdles in a race we have decided to run. Yeehaw!

· I’m broke. Answer: who isn’t?
· I have nowhere to live. Answer: do you have a car? Friends? Kids?
· I’m hungry. Answer: get out of that cat dish! Poor cat. Do you have friends? Kids? Can you steal? Can you read? Find the food pantry and soup kitchen in the phone book?
· I’m bored. Answer: go to Wall Street. I hear they’re having a helluva party.
· I feel like a failure. Answer: dig yourself. You’re just trendy.

Check It Out: How Long Will I Live?

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 23:06:00 +0000

New research is finding some clues to longevity. Well…not a recipe, exactly; but characteristics associated with living to 100.

How do I stack up? Let’s see…

Clue #1: How many oldsters are there in your family?

· I don’t know; they’re all dead. (In fairness, many of them were in their 90’s)

Clue #2: How fast and how far can you walk?

· Depends who’s chasing me.

Clue 3: Do you have a lot of people in your life?

· Do bill collectors count?

Clue 4: Are you a woman?

· Hang on, let me check.

Clue 5: (for women only) Did you have a child after 35?

· My kids were born when I was 37 and 39. Before that I was partying.

Clue 6: When were you born?

· I can’t remember. But the research says the younger you are, the longer you’ll live. No sh*t. (How much did we pay for this research?)

Clue 7: Do you worry, but not too much?

· Huh? Of course I worry. But then I forget about it. Like, what’s the point?

Clue 8: Is your weight normal? Or are you only slightly overweight?

· What’s normal? My weight is normal for me. I’m skinny with a big ass.

Clue 9: How long are your telomeres?

· Is this a dirty question? Anyway, who knows?

Clue 10: Are you a positive person?

· Well, I’m more positive than negative. This is because I’m imaginative. I see approaching doom, and change the channel.

So, how did I do? Let’s put it this way: if I live to 100, that’d be all right, but only under the following conditions:

· I get a facelift.
· I get a lotta money.
· The world never runs out of beer.
· Extremists find me boring.

That’ll do, yessiree!

Now You Can Afford It!

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 20:03:00 +0000

Kindle edition is now down to 1.99! Check it out... copy and paste this mess into your browser:

http://www.amazon.com/Jane-of-the-Jungle-ebook/dp/B004VS9ES6/ref=sr_1_1_title_1_kin?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1328385277&sr=1-1

The Whole Book....in a picture

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 16:46:00 +0000

When he pointed the gun at my head, I knew it was over; and I remembered my father telling me, so long ago, "It's a jungle out there. Be careful."

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 15:17:00 +0000

Old Wisdom May Not Be So Wise....

What happens when an old fart/fartette falls on the sidewalk?

broken hip
some punk steals her purse
everyone gasps in shock
it's ambulance time

What REALLY happens when an old fart/fartette falls on the sidewalk?

Purple prose
she hits the punk in a delicate place, easily reachable from below, and steals his wallet
everyone gasps in shock (at her behavior)
she gets up and wanders off, rudely rubbing her behind in public

That's right folks, we're not as delicate as we look. According to Kay Van Norman, aging and wellness consultant, research over the last 20 years confirms that frailty need not happen, so long as one does some strength training. The Proof:

I was wearing my Devil Shoes, the clogs that are worn on the edges and make me fall down, and down I went, right at the front door of my clinic. A perfect ass plant on concrete, papers scattering everywhere. People came rushing out to assist; not only was I not even sightly hurt, I got up cursing about the papers being out of order. And the next day, I did it again! Smash! On my hip, in the parking lot of the Juvenile Court, same shoes, this time carrying my lunch, and spilled my diet coke. Not a scratch, but I was irritated about the coke.

I took the shoes out in the yard, shot them, then set them on fire. But my hips are fine. Not even a black and blue. I knew that Bowflex machine would earn its keep.

noreply@blogger.com (Janey B) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 19:46:00 +0000

Stem Cell News....Yeehaw?

A new report cites a study in which old mice were given injections of new stem cells, and presto! Can you say re-ju-ve-na-tion?

Mice studies at the University of Pittsburgh showed that stem cell injections slowed the aging process. Treated old mice became like young mice, and lived up to three times longer than their untreated compadres.

Well....they weren't rebuilt. Even thought the stem cells came from muscle tissue, and their muscles did get stronger, they weren't reborn as new hot mice. They had better brain blood flow and overall health, and so on and so on.

Cool. So now they're going to try to translate the research to humans. Take our own stem cells from muscle and see what happens. Possibilities:

I live 3 times longer than most people, and look like hell the whole time
I'm smart enough to know how bad I look
I have more energy so I can go look in the mirror more often
Whose idea was this anyway?

I will wait for the research that rebuilds muscle and skin. Then I will take stem cells from a 20 year old ass and inject them guess where. I will take stem cells from a 25 year old neck and make my friends envious. I will take stem cells from a weight lifter and be strong enough to pick up a cute guy and run down the road with him. (heh heh)

c u there :)