Why my family donates our old clothes

 Everyone talks about recycling these days. That is a good thing. But I found out that where we were donating my kids' clothes to was not what we had thought. Not all Staten Island clothing donation sites are the same. Not by a long shot. Let me explain, briefly. I'm sure this applies to you, no matter where you live. First of all, we donate on Staten Island as an homage to the people of the Forgotten Borough. That's where my family originally hails from. I mean, we're Scottish, but after Scotland, we lived on Staten Island for generations and generations. Anyway, let me get to the point: A lot of places do not actually give your clothes to needy families. Even with names that sound like they're doing good work, a lot of places are not. A case in point: Those drop boxes you see in parking lots all over the island, all over New Jersey, and all over every town and city I've been in across the United States. These are a big fraud. First of all, many of them are fo

Why is massage for women frowned upon?

It's an open secret that most of my married friends' husbands go for massages at those cheap Asian joints. And of course, we all know what follows those sort of "massages." I'm sure there are plenty of legitimate Asian massage therapists, but not these places. While everyone turns a blind eye to this, why is massage for women frowned upon? Why can't I get a perfectly tame massage without everyone telling me I'm pampering myself? I'm not the pampering kind of woman. But I do suffer from fibromyalgia, and I would like to get massages more often. If my husband went to those seedy spots, I'd divorce him. I don't need him coming home with some exotic disease that came into being on some dirty sheet.  It's not like I have a problem with him getting massage. couples massage would be fine. I'd actually love getting a massage with him right next to me. But so far, every time that I mention the possibility, he shoots it down. I've had my sh

Why I Want to Have a Blog

It all started in high school. I was not yet married and my future husband was still living in Austria. My kids were not even people I could have imagined existing. But I had a bug for writing. I enjoyed my creative writing class. Literature class. When I learned what linguistics was in college I flipped. I majored in creative writing at first, but soon switched to accounting, just because my English professors showed us a chart of how much (little) we could expect to make as writers. Maybe I should have stuck with it. Either way, I'm happy to say I have a good income and if I ever had to be on my own, I could easily do it. Not that I'm planning to leave my husband, but life happens. By the way, he's not really from Austria. He is European, though. I changed that detail so no one can recognize me. He already cheated once. Well, twice if you count before we were married. He actually cheated the night of our engagement party. Oh, actually it was four times. I forgot about the