“Humor! Truth! Creativity! Great vocab words! Molly's blog has it all!”
Eileen Sweeney, Yahoo Media 

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I have been having these pains behind my right eye when I watch more than three hours of HGTV  at one sitting. Could this be a tumor? Would eye drops help?

Do you watch Grey’s Anatomy? Don’t you just love it?

Whenever I blow my nose, my ears itch. Is this serious? And can people drown using Neti Pots?

Have you ever given yourself an enema?

Is there such a thing as pre-dementia? Like is forgetting where your car keys are more than twice a week serious?

How do you know if you have hemmorhoids?

I get backaches now whenever I vacuum. Is this arthritis? Or should I worry that I might have some sort of slipped disc? Should I make my husband do all the vacuuming?

If you wake up with a headache, is that a symptom of a brain tumor? And what exactly makes certain brain tumors inoperable, anyway?

Has a patient ever farted during an examination?

What do you think this spot is on my tongue? Should I be worried?

Does your wife get her mammogram results faster than the rest of us?

And really, can you just look at my neck for a minute and tell me what you think this IS?

Hey, how is this for an idea? Since all your patients have to be naked under paper gowns, have you ever thought of wearing paper pants? Or at least taking your shirt off when you enter the exam room, just to kind of equalize things?

Can you give yourself a shot without flinching?

And, really—here is the one that we ALL want to ask male gynecologists:

How on earth can you even think about sex after looking at vaginas all day?

I have multiple doctors in  my neighborhood. But for some reason, I am never invited to their parties.






























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I read an article on the Huffington Post, I think, about being a grandparent. The woman who wrote it said that she has no real desire to be one. I guess she thought that this was very controversial and would cause all kinds of furious comments, thus making her viral and famous. Of course, I may just be a bit contentious myself today.

Because here is the thing: of course you don’t necessarily want something that you have never had. Your life seems just fine the way it is right now. I think this is nature’s way of keeping us sane and contented.

For instance, I would never want to be a princess or a queen. I see no reason for all of those jewels and huge palaces. My house is just fine, and I like my diamond earrings. But wait. I have never had a chauffeur. I don’t know what it is like to be served delicious meals cooked by somebody else every night—in a huge dining room, delivered by footmen.

I watch Downton Abbey. The more I see it, the more I wish I had my own Carson the butler. He is so very loyal and upright. He looks out for his family. The more I get to know the Crawleys, the more I feel like one of them. So now I resent making my own macaroni and cheese and having to schlepp it onto plates and then clean up afterwards. But had you inquired pre-Downton Abbey, I would have scoffed at the very idea of having a man in a uniform cater to my every whim.

You get my drift? I loved being a mother. Most of the time. I had two very quirky and bright children, who made me laugh, gave me a reason for living every single day, and made me very proud. As a matter of fact, I have to contain myself from posting “too much” about them on social media. Yes, I am completely satisfied. I don’t think I ever nagged either one of them about having a baby. I was fine.

But then, you see, one of them did. And what was totally fine before seemed empty and dull. Because now I have a grandson who is the most beautiful baby that has ever been born. He is charming. He is the image of his mother (of course, his other grandmother might not agree with this-she may see some of her son in him). He is the toast of Facebook and Twitter. I know this, because I have worked very hard to make this happen.

So back to that satisfied woman who doesn’t want to be a grandma? That is fine and dandy. You just stay happy and serene. But I bet when your son or daughter has a baby, you will change your tune faster than you can say Arianna Huffington! I speak the truth, people.IMG_1261

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Do one thing at a time. Like don’t try to drink coffee at the same time that you are brushing your teeth.

Do things slowly and deliberately. This is very Zen. It is also ridiculous, because everybody knows that loading the dishwasher slowly and deliberately just encourages the dog to dive right in there and start licking things. And some dogs are just too stupid to avoid the steak knives.

Do it completely. Oh, like don’t stop putting on deodorant after just one armpit.

Do less. Now this is something I can wrap my Zen head around. While lying in bed.

Put space between things. I am not really sure what this means. Should I make my husband sleep in the guest room? Or do I just take a long break between vacuuming and taking out the trash?

Develop rituals. Excellent! I have started to lift my sandwich up in the air and chant “only use Poupon,” “only use Poupon,” before I place it on the table in front of the TV and nod three times before booting up Househunters International.

Designate time for certain things. I am so Zen. I take my nap at three o’clock every afternoon.  And I reserve Sunday nights for exfoliating.

Smile and serve others. Most baristas are very Zen. In my case, I do find it hard to grin when I am serving up mac and cheese.

Make cleaning and cooking become meditation. Wait a minute. Who is this guru? A man? What about mowing the lawn? Using that nostril hair trimmer? Let’s have some equal opportunity meditation, here.

Think about what is necessary. It is necessary that I get a pedicure once a month. And very necessary that nobody (you know who you are) gives me the stinkeye for having popcorn in bed at midnight.

Live simply. Wait. If anybody expects me to turn off the air conditioner and live “off the grid” and make my own pasta? Not gonna happen.

Zen is highly overrated. I am just sayin’.




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Good grief. This has been a terrible month. I am not even going to mention all of the tragic world events, because all of us have been brooding about them, losing sleep over them, and trying to understand what has become of us.

But I am here to console us in an odd way. We have been horrible since time began. Humans have been removing one another’s heads for centuries. Burning each other on stakes, and my God, did you watch Braveheart? Here is the subtle difference: back in the day, when a witch was burned at the stake in New England, people in Australia had no idea it happened. So they could just worry about their own problems, and assume that the only horrible people in the world were their own neighbors and persecutors.

Lots of my social media acquaintances have decided that they want to go back to that time when nobody knew every single little fact about every person on earth via Facebook, Twitter, and Reddit. So they are going “off” social media. They are going to protect themselves by holing up at home, eliminating social media at all costs, cancelling their newspaper subscriptions (there are still newspapers?), and staying safe and secure by bingewatching Breaking Bad and Dexter, because fictional horribleness is entertaining.

Around here, we are more realistic. We like to see all the ice bucket challenges—they bolster our faith in humanity, plus we get to see just what celebrity backyards look like. And funny pet videos go a long way to cheer us up. Just this morning I saw a cockatiel dishing out dog biscuits to a Labrador.

Hiding your head in a hole doesn’t really help. There is so much out there that is still good, productive, and uplifting. We just have to pick and choose what we “like” on Facebook. I am doing that. I have unfollowed the gloomy people. And when I get discouraged about the world, I think about Maya Angelou, Mother Teresa, Jonas Salk, James Baldwin, Temple Grandin, Martin Luther King, and Bob Hope. I am starting a list of people who cast a light into the world. Then when things get oppressive, I add another name to the list.

Today, it was this one: taken from http://www.manythings.org/voa/people/Medical_Researchers.html

Matthew Lukwiya was the medical administrator of Saint Mary’s Hospital in the Gulu District of northern Uganda.  In 2000, the hospital was the center of treatment for an outbreak of Ebola.  The virus causes severe bleeding.  No cure is known.  Doctors can only hope that victims are strong enough to survive.

Dr. Lukwiya acted quickly to control the spread of infection.  He kept the people with Ebola separate from the other patients.  He ordered hospital workers to wear protective clothing and follow other safety measures.

One day he had to deal with a patient who was dying of Ebola.  The man had been acting out of control.  The doctor knew him well.  The patient was a nurse who worked at the hospital.  The man was coughing and bleeding.  Dr. Lukwiya violated one of his own rules.  He wore no protection over his eyes.

Matthew Lukwiya died from the virus in December of 2000.  He was 42 years old.  Ugandans mourned his death.  He was an important influence in the community.  Experts say his work during the outbreak helped stop the Ebola virus from spreading out of control.

See? It is inspiring, isn’t it? Go ahead. Start your own list.


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I have recurring dreams. They are very strange. I guess some of them are common. I have looked some of them up on “dream analysis” web sites. What I have learned about myself isn’t pretty. But some of my readers might share these dream topics, and so I thought I would share my dreams and their meanings, in case you want to know yourself better.

Something terrible has happened, and you need to make an urgent phone call, but you keep getting the numbers wrong, and you have to start over:  You need reading glasses. Also, you might have control issues. You are probably bossy and need to be taken down a peg.

You are in high school, and you forgot your textbook. But you can’t remember your locker combination.  You have control issues. You are probably way too concerned with keeping all your ducks in a row. It is upsetting to you when something escapes your notice—like that dust on top of the ceiling fan that your son-in-law pointed out yesterday. You feel worried about how people perceive you.

You look down at your chest in a business meeting and realize that you are not wearing a blouse—or a bra. Just your boobs.  You have control issues. You worry about how others perceive you. The fact that your daughter pointed out that you have some stray chin hairs yesterday has made you anxious.

Somebody is chasing you, but you can’t run for some reason.  You saw that burglar alarm commercial one too many times. Plus, you have control issues.

You look in your living room, and there is a bear sitting on your sofa.  Your husband has control issues. He remarked this morning that five cats is too many, and that you are absolutely crazy to want that dachshund puppy on Craigslist.

You are in front of a huge audience, standing behind a podium. They applaud wildly, and then look at you expectantly. You have absolutely nothing to say. You are worried that you are getting old and passe. Your kids don’t seem to listen to you when you give them advice. Your husband interrupts your conversation to insert one of his own remarks.

Good God, you have CONTROL ISSUES.




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