Boomer Folklore: There Was An Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe

 Here's what is coming:  the old woman will live in a shoe box.  You all think I am kidding.  I'm taking the Mother Goose rhyme into 2026 and beyond.  

The fastest growing homeless population is the elderly (dare I say Boomers).  Why?  I could talk for hours on it as the reasons are complex, but some of it boils down to this.  We are now reaping the seeds sown in the 1980's Reaganomics era where unions were demolished.   Prior to the 1980's employers offered defined benefit pensions which guaranteed income for life unlike defined contribution plans that are finite.  When the Reganomics hit it was sold to the people that unions were not needed.  Put the pension money on the check NOW and people can invest for their own pension.  Who needs unions?  Americans are independent!  We can plan for our own futures!  GIMME MONEY NOW!

Boomers bought it hook, line, and sinker.  Boomers loved the huge paychecks and spent themselves into a tizzy with large houses, cars, boats, trips, etc.  Did they save for their retirement?  Nope.  Now their toys have long depreciated to being valued worthless and left Boomers with zero savings and mounting credit card and medical debt.  They have reverse mortgages on their homes because they can't come to terms that their lifestyle is not sustainable and refuse to face reality.  

The Boomers' reverse mortgages are coming due.  Boomer has walked through all of his money.  Now Boomer needs to move somewhere....but WHERE?  Boomer is now in declining health, does not have any money, and the bank is about to retake the house leaving Boomer with negative equity.  Yup.  The longer Boomer stays in the house, the more he will owe.  

Boomer has zero money and zero savings.   Boomer can't keep up with rising prices.  Boomer needs to sell his home, but finding another place to live is proving challenging and expensive.  Next thing you know Boomer is facing eviction and is now without a home.  Where will all of these elderly and broke people live?  Who will take care of them?  

Which brings me back to the beginning:  There was an old woman who lived in a shoe....box.   

 

 

....and how was YOUR Thanksgiving?

Whew.  Another Thanksgiving under my belt.  At this point I am a black belt in Thanksgiving Dinner preparation and hosting.  I think I have dealt with every uncomfortable guest/relative situation at this point as well along with being a professional diplomat with family politics and government politics.

I wish they handed out a Nobel prize for keeping world peace at the extended family holiday dinners.  We all know that everything starts at home, right?  I have family members that range from wearing MAGA hats to feverish supporters of Zohran's socialist democracy.  The point is that we all converge during the holidays and nobody gets worked up of politics.  We can have a civil and insightful discussion if it comes up despite the variances.  

Yup.  My family covers the entire range of the political spectrum.  I think I have members of my family who are on a political spectrum that has yet to be identified.   

Truth be told, I have had several bumps in the road over the decades in reaching the utopia of family holiday dinners.  There have been arguments, mishaps, miscommunications, and misunderstandings along the way that have resulted family discord.  I have been in the wrong many times.  Then there are those in the family who think they are entitled to be waited on hand and foot and treat the host like it is an on-demand restaurant and give no courtesy to the host nor to others.  

I am so glad and relieved that the ingrate cancer has been cut from my home.  The ingrates no longer even entertain that thought that are welcome at my home.  They have to make their own plans and cook for themselves.   For fear of sounding like a cheesy pop-psychologist, I've set my "healthy boundaries."  

Now the ingrates are arguing amongst themselves as to whom is the ingrate, and how dare Ingrate Relative X try to dictate the guest list for Host Ingrate.  I just sit back and smile.  

Here are the comments I hear through the family grapevine:

1.  OMG!  It's so much WORK and EXPENSE to host!  It takes days to organize, clean, prep, cook.  Then there is the CLEAN UP.  Nobody HELPS me!

2.  Quiet Rage made it look so easy!  Do you have her recipe for (fill in the blank).  

3. Ingrate X simply can't be expected to host - it's just too much (insert personal drama here).  Ingrate X has two kids, does not work, and has small living quarters. (note:  Quiet Rage hosted holidays with two small kids while working full-time AND going to school AND living in a small condo).   

4.  Host Ingrate is astounded that the other family ingrates want dibs on the leftovers to take home.  Host Ingrate wails, "I bought and prepared all this food!  The leftovers were to feed us for the rest of the week!  Now Ingrate X feels entitled to some?"

Ahhhhhhhh.....so much relief to not have to deal with any of that.  So much has been taken off our plates with the elimination of the ingrates (pun intended).  It allowed us to cook an entire Thanksgiving meal for 7 for a family we love that is dealing with a terminal disease and bring it over to them in addition to cooking for my usual crowd I host.  

Gen X Classic: White, White Baby!

This is a Gen X classic.  It's a parody featuring Jim Carrey as Vanilla Ice.  This will never get old despite Gen X getting old.  

    

SuperBETCH is Dying

 Less than 4 months after CHP died, SuperBETCH (CHP's widow) is now in the hospital receiving dialysis for four hours daily.  She has not made urine in over a week.  How did she get this way?  Well, I don't think she really took care of herself.  We are not even talking about the hole in her intestines for which she had surgery and the skin cancer that is eating away on her right shoulder with her rotting flesh exposing veins, cartilage, bones, etc.  

Uff Da!  So much has happened this past week. None of which is pretty.

SuperBETCH is a mess.  I blame SuperBETCH Jr. for a lot of it as she knew her mom was lying on her couch at her home in her own feces and urine for at least 36 hours.  At that point SuperBETCH Jr.  called her brother, Nice Guy, to come over because mom was not quite right (gee, being on the couch covered in her own urine and feces did not tip her off???????).  SuperBETCH Jr. was reluctant to call 911 for her own mother.  NiceGuy, upon entering the house and observing his mother unconscious on couch soaked in her own excrement, jumped in and called 911 immediately despite his sister's claims that it was unnecessary to do so. 

Here is where it is at as of November 23, 2025, at 11:04 PM.  

SuperBETCH is in the hospital and she will be there for an undetermined amount of time.  She can't walk.  She can't take herself to the toilet.  She can't sit up by herself.  She is on dialysis for 4 hours per day.  Her kidneys are failing.  She sleeps most of the time.  She thinks that Benjamin Franklin is standing in the corner of her hospital room and that her late husband, CHP,  has been there visiting with her.  

Hey....I'm not judging any of that.  

Even if SuperBETCH gets out of the hospital, she will need to go to a rehabilitation facility full time as NiceGuy can't take care of her 24/7.  Neither can his sister SuperBETCH Jr.  

 Which leads us to Thanksgiving this coming Thursday.  Before it was known how ill SuperBETCH was there was drama between NiceGuy and his sister SuperBETCH Jr.  NiceGuy wants NOTHING to do with his sister.  SuperBETCH Jr. was chastising NiceGuy and his wife because they had plans to come to our house for Thanksgiving dinner.  The "guilt" was that that this was the first Thanksgiving without CHP and that the CHP/SuperBETCH immediate family should all be together for the holiday.

Here's the real story.  SuperBETCH Jr.  could not handle the thought of having to HOST and cook for her OWN ADULT KIDS and their significant others at her OWN HOUSE on a holiday.  Nice Guy ALWAYS cooked for them all in the past and hosted at their house.  SuperBETCH Jr. has NEVER hosted a holiday at her house let alone cook for anybody.  She has always inserted herself with her brother (NiceGuy) and their parents as they always hosted and did all the work.  All she had to do was show up with her tribe along with a bottle of wine and a pie she picked up at Whole Foods.  How easy is THAT?  

This is where I get thrown under the bus from SuperBETCH Jr.  

All of a sudden my husband and I are getting blamed for cooking Thanksgiving dinner and not inviting SuperBETCH Jr.'s entire tribe over.  

We have never hosted them for Thanksgiving.  We have hosted them all for Christmas.  We have NEVER been invited over to SuperBETCH Jr.'s house for anything.  Nothing.  Ever.  Now we are the bad people because we are just doing our own thing (as always)?   

Why am I obligated to invite people to my home who want nothing to do with me because they don't want to deal with the work of cooking a meal for their own immediate family...and then they also expect me to clean up after them?  Nope.  I'm not their kitchen bitch.  

Sure, SuperBETCH Jr. can go to Whole Foods and order the overpriced a la carte Thanksgiving dinner.  Still, it comes cold and you will still need to figure out your oven and stove space to warm it up enough to serve. 

Wait.  The meal comes cold.  

Justice served.   

 

 

Cranky Old Lady

 Yup.  I'm there.  I'm a cranky old lady.  With any luck and the grace of God, you will reach my age as well.  Here's my list of advice.  Please, feel free to take my advice.  God knows I'm not going to use it.

1.  You are not nearly as important as you think you are.  Do not get sucked into thinking workplace and external accolades replaces family and other personal relationships.  You will be sorely disappointed on your death bed thinking the company guys who presented with you with a plaque at the obligatory, ceremonial rubber chicken dinner with the cheezy photo opportunity that will feature you for the weekly publication of "The Company Newsletter" nobody actually reads for "best manager of the year" actually gives a sh*t about you -  and will be there at the end of your life.  They won't be there for you as you take your last breaths.  Truth bomb:  You were replaced 10 years ago.  They are just trying to be nice about it now giving you something to hang on the wall while they kick your @ss out the door.  

2.   You are actually as important as you think you are.  Yes, this contradicts the above statement.  However, do NOT invest your soul's energy into corporate and workplace endeavors.  You will always be disappointed when soul-sucker Sam, who wears a cape with the company logo and gets a promotion instead of you, gets a bust in his likeness in the corporate hall of (sh)fame.  However, you will *never* be disappointed in being there when your daughter takes her first steps and says da-da for the first time.  Priceless.  

3.  Yes, we all need to play the "work game" to some extent.  Just be realistic about the end result.  Once you leave your job you will be replaced and forgotten in no time.  You will be lucky if anybody remembers you two years after you left your 30+ year career working your heart and soul out for Company X meaning missing birthday parties, anniversaries, and other special family events for the ceremonial rubber chicken dinners you attended for those who are now long forgotten.  Do you reach out to them?  I don't think so.  You are too busy wrapped up in your own life to remember those who sacrificed for the "company."  The same will go for you.  

4.  However, your family will NEVER forget about you.  That is if you have not already alienated them after years of neglect by ignoring them while chasing your ego's ghost.  Sorry, but your daughter named little Cindy will never understand why you had to miss her dance recital because Client George decided to ride into town a night early and wanted Cindy's daddy to take him to dinner so he did not have to put out his own credit card for the expense.  

College Degree: Don't Waste Your Money

Unless you are going to college for a specific job, i.e., orthodontist, brain surgeon, etc., don't waste your money.  Most college degrees are useless and leaves students thousands of dollars in debt with the only jobs being at Starbucks paying minimum wage.  You are better off going to a community college taking job-skill related courses or checking out Khan University, YouTube, or the other vastly available online educational resources.  

Spoiler Alert:  Nobody cares where you went to college.  Nobody cares about your liberal arts degree.  

I am NOT against education by any means.  I'm against young people getting roped into student loan debt by those who bully them into thinking that if young people do not give up their first-born chasing an expensive piece of paper they will be doomed to life in shackles and chains.  

The world needs trades people, nurses, teachers, librarians, musicians, poets, writers, and others who put the personal touch on our existence.  We do NOT need any more paper pushers promoting a corporate agenda with no soul.  

MRH's Funeral

 My coven is suffering.  We have been suffering for a while witnessing the decline of MRH with her addictions and mental health issues.  It's exhausting.  How do you help someone when they refuse to disengage in the habits that are causing them more and more harm?  

All in the coven have tried to help MRH over the years with loving support.  One can only do so much without getting sucked in and drained (emotionally, physically, and monetarily) as well.   As each of us in the coven reached our limit, each established our "healthy boundaries" of disengagement to save our own sanity.  

There is one in the coven who was very vocal about her "healthy boundaries" and cut MRH out of her life.  It's not that I blame her, it's just that it was always announced to the group whenever we were together at the cabin in Northern Minnesota.  Every. Single. Time.  

This same coven member also likes attention and the spotlight.  She is always posting on FaceBook and has a strong penchant of directing every situation into something about herself.  I dare say she has narcissistic tendencies.  Yes, she was sexually abused by her father, and I am sad for that, but she wears a stamp on her forehead stating such and also announces it to anybody and everybody including cashiers and gas station attendants.  Yes, I am happy she pulled her life together and received the psychological support to help her cope.  Yes, I'm glad Spotlight Seeker is a survivor and helps other kids who are suffering.  I need to add that Spotlight Seeker has not seen MRH in a decade.  

I am getting off on a tangent.  

Where I am going is that Spotlight Seeker did not have the time of day for MRH until it was known she was in the hospital and dying.  Spotlight Seeker knew there would be no lingering commitment on her part other than showing up at the hospital.  

Out of the blue, Spotlight Seeker decided to visit MRH in the hospital with the full audience of MRH's kids and sister.  Spotlight Seeker also knew that this was prime material for FaceBook likes and attention.  Lo and behold, Spotlight Seeker posted on Facebook about MRH's death like theywerethisclose and managed to mention her childhood trauma experienced at the hands of her father.  Spotlight Seeker asked for prayers for HER for her loss and emotional duress.  The thousands of "likes" ensued. 

Well, I called out Spotlight Seeker on her sudden interest in MRH on her deathbed because she distanced herself for over a decade and wondered how the abuse she experienced had anything to do with MRH's death....let alone plastering it all over FaceBook.  

As you can imagine, it went over like a lead balloon.  We got into a huge argument.  Long story short, we did smooth things over.  However, just as we were smoothing things over another argument erupted with Spotlight Seeker and another in our coven, PMF.  

It's true.  Weddings and funerals have a tendency of brining everybody's subconscious emotions bubbling to the surface.  Sadly, the argument between Spotlight Seeker and PMF did not cool down, and it seeped into the following day at MRH's funeral.

The day of the funeral PMF was so angry she did not talk to any of us in the coven.  After the funeral,  SSP offered me a ride to the cemetery which I gladly accepted.  I had not had a chance to talk to SSP one-on-one and I was thankful for the opportunity to spend time with her.  

When we arrived at the cemetery SSP and I found the rest of the coven, sans PMF, and we all huddled together while the officiant said some prayers.  We had no idea where PMF was at.  When MRH's ashes were being lowered into the grave we all stood in a close circle, holding hands, and crying.  We kept a space for PMF as she is part of the coven as well despite the ugly argument that happened the night before at JLB's house.  

None of us saw PMF at the cemetery.  None of us saw her until the ceremony was over and we were all heading back to our cars.  I had no idea where she was standing.   I'm certain she saw us all in a circle holding hands.  What she did not see was that there was a place held for her.  

I feel badly that PMF feels badly.  The fight has spread beyond Spotlight Seeker has spread to JLB and TYD.  It's three against one.  SSP and I are on the sidelines, and we are in trouble for that because we did not jump in.  

Death brings out emotions you never knew you had.  I am hoping the coven can survive as we have been friends for 50+ years.