Karen Loftis Rankowitz

Nurturing my inner woman does not involve makeup, manicures, cashmere, or jewels. I am quite comfortable in my own skin and do not require the pretense of outer good looks or prettiness to foster the beauty on my inside. Dress up the tree but remember to take care of you during the holidays. And I don’t necessarily mean that you shouldn’t dress yourself up if it makes you feel good. What I mean is that while the tree looks good with the lights and ‘jewels’ of Christmas past the stresses of the season can swoop in and, like a vulture, steal the fire that burns inside your heart. Here’s what makes my inner woman shine… Affection Conversation Lighting a candle The smell of the ocean Honesty Loyalty Respect Forks to eat pizza Laughter Warm sunshine on my face Driving with the top down even though I don’t have a hair brush Crying happy tears and sad ones too And being seen as a woman and not just a mother My heart can sparkle like glitter as long as the light is shining

Dear Santa, Yes, Santa, I do believe. I’m only going to ask you for a few things this year for Christmas. I’ll start with the easier requests. I’d like a self-loading dishwasher. And would you be able to make the dust on the shelves look ‘festive’ – like snow or frost – instead of neglected? I’d like my father to call me by my name and not those of my siblings or the dog I had when I was a teenager so long ago. I’d like just a little bit more time in each day. You can give that to me through my children. Please have them turn their clothing right-side-out, before it’s washed. Specifically, their socks. Enough Scotch Tape to wrap ALL the gifts. Oh, and some Duct Tape so I can hold myself together this season. I don’t want leggings or tights. But could you give me legs that might look good in them. In years past, I didn’t always get the things I wanted, but that’s probably because I didn’t ask for them. I wanted things, but I stopped working hard to get them and keep them.

Oh, the controversy…should retail establishments open for business on Thanksgiving Day? Traditionally this is a holiday when time is spent with family and friends. We give thanks for what we have. Turkeys are roasted, potatoes are mashed, families embrace, and perhaps this is one of the rare times everyone sits at the table for a shared meal, good conversation, and prayers expressing gratitude. In my home, for many years – and I guess it has now become a new tradition, one that is quite different from what I remember growing up – I rise early to prepare the feast. Yes, my mother did much of the same things that I do. However, there is one exception in this cozy scenario. My husband works on Thanksgiving…my father did not. I could feel saddened by this, but I don’t. Instead I choose to be thankful. My husband has a job to go to. Many do not. I still have my husband, my children, and my parents. Many do not. I had a brother who passed away 18 years ago, and while I miss h

This week the world lost a beautiful woman, a sister, and a daughter. Two children lost their mother. A husband lost his wife. And the families and friends of Karen Houle will mourn, her life taken so unexpectedly. A sudden devastating loss will break the dam and flood us with emotions that we have no idea where they came from, or why, now, we are experiencing them. We will all grieve in different ways, and that is normal and healthy. In order to get past things, we have to travel through them. We will cry, we will feel anger, sadness…and in many ways we will each feel a touch of guilt. ‘Guilt’s’ cunning and manipulative finger will tap our shoulder and want our attention. Know that it is ok to forgive yourself. Forgiveness means moving forward and Karen would want nothing less from anyone. To hoard unhealthy thoughts and emotions in the heart can make a mess. That which is not helpful, needs to be recognized, sorted out, and then, eventually, put to rest. Sadly, we are not

The newsletter from school that came home in Noah’s backpack featured a duck reading a book entitled ‘Silly Stories.’ I like silly, it’s what I write about. I started reading. The first column “Where’s Your Funny Bone?” asked what makes your child laugh. Funny noises, being tickled, or maybe a funny picture; nowhere did it mention jumping off the roof of the shed with cardboard attached to arms to see if people can actually fly. So, I moved on. The next column, “Attention All Shoppers” drew me in. I’m the shopping editor for a publication I write for. Surely, this will help me with my next edition. Take your child grocery shopping, it read. I gasped so loudly that the cat fled the room. I’d rather have my eyelids stapled to my brow. As one who loves a good challenge, or simply a kick in the pants, I took my boys shopping. Actually, I take them shopping often, though not my choice; it is what a mom must endure. I thought about the newsletter’s advice and decided it was time for

Breast cancer is the most common form of cancer for women and about 46,000 women will fall victim to it each year. Mammograms can cut this statistic by 30 percent. By now, my family, friends, and Facebook buddies are probably so tired of hearing and reading my relentless promotion of breast cancer awareness. I can understand that. I am an extremely persistent person. They see my name – usually attached to it is a pink ribbon – and they probably want to tie the thing around my neck to silence me…and these are my relatives, my friends…I can’t imagine what my acquaintances are wanting to do. Here is why I continue my faithful mission…50% of women in America do not get an annual mammogram. That is a staggering percentage. From Susan G. Komen for the Cure, and you can read the full article here http://ww5.komen.org/Content.aspx?id=6442452934 , “Average annual mammography rates were as follows: 47% for women aged 40 to 49 years, 54% for women aged 50 to 64, and 45% for women aged 65

Of all the months in the year October bombards us with everything pink. We see pink ribbons on shirts, hats, and shoes; there are posters, billboards, pink bras, and boxing gloves telling us to ‘fight like a girl’. It can be overwhelming. Maybe some are tired of seeing and hearing about it. I was tired too. Tired of my breasts being poked, pushed, and squished. They were scrutinized then analyzed, and, YES, they were victimized…by cancer. To add to the list, not only did I have my general practitioner and gynecologist; I now had a radiologist and an oncologist. When visiting my dentist, I immediately began to slip my arms through their sleeves and I looked around for the gown – ‘with the opening in the front, please.’ My breasts were no longer private and I began to think of them as extra elbows, or knees, body parts that I didn’t mind showing to everyone in the eastern half of Connecticut, which made me thankful that I didn’t live in a big state, like Texas or Alaska. And then it

While I love to weave humor into my writing, what you will read is serious and on an extremely personal level. Way back, when I was about to turn 40, I asked for a hysterectomy for my birthday. What I got instead was a mammogram. And every year after, on my birthday, I got another. In December of 2008 I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer. I had a lump in my left breast. This lump had been there for a while; my doctor informed me it was a fibro adenoma. Basically, a mass that is benign (non-cancerous). He left the option of having it removed to me. While it was not bothersome when I first discover it, after some time I noticed it was becoming tender and decided to have it removed. Behind this non-cancerous lump was a tumor… and it was cancer. October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month but so many of us are aware of this disease every month and literally every day. Maybe that’s because we know someone who had or has cancer. Let me put this in a different perspective. Do you know ei

The summer is ending. The next few weeks will be spent buying backpacks, lunch boxes, new underwear, and socks, a bazillion pencils, erasers, and renegotiating a proper bedtime. A fresh start to the new school year, where Christian begins ninth grade and Noah is now a Junior High School student in the sixth grade. I knew they are ready. The monotony of having spent too much time together was leading to disagreements and sighs powerful enough to blow the neglected dust off the furniture. I was ready too. I looked forward to having time for myself to catch up on what housework was abandoned over the summer for the sake of fun day trips, sleepovers, and pool parties. Every year when ‘back to school’ time sneaks up on stealthy feet, I think back to when my boys were younger and to previous mornings getting them off to their first day back. I could sense their excitement, though it was mixed with some apprehension. I packed lunches and included a note for each to read. While I load

Recently, while I was on my way to someplace (I can’t remember where, but that’s another story), I looked out my car’s window and saw the driver of the car in front of me talking on her cell phone. Apparently, this person is from a different America where cell phone usage and driving, at the SAME time, is acceptable behavior. I would have bet that she’s the kind of person who talks and eats (probably while driving) at the same time. However, I doubt that she breathes and thinks simultaneously. People probably tell her, “You know the minute you start breathing, you stop thinking.” Like taking in air will spread common sense. We all know the obvious places where cell phone use is discouraged (and even illegal). But do you know of the ‘even more obvious’ places? If not, then I’d like to share some of those places, and the scenarios that may ensue, with you. Cell phones should absolutely not be with anyone in the confessional. However, if you, like me, are the type to tempt fate the

My previous obituary regarding the Gigantic Flying Cockroach detailed its demise and my outrageous, if not embellished, account of the GFC’s horrendous death. I say ‘horrendous’ because 70-year-old Arlene, whom I will call Mom, chastised me about ending its extremely important existence here in Connecticut. I will tell you the gist of our conversation, which basically amounted to Mom using 'the silent treatment' and me becoming 4-years-old again. My mother, who has a computer but doesn’t know how to access my writing on line, enjoys when I read my stories to her over the phone. At least I think she does because she will eventually break her ever-lasting vow of silence after my never-ending stream of, “Don’t you think it’s funny?” to mildly chuckle. The conversation about the GFC went like this. MOM: “I think it was a locust.” That’s it. That was all she said. I was waiting for her to elaborate. I even prompted her with MOM: "( please fill in blank )". Sh

Noah is 11-years-old and he exaggerates everything. I don’t know whom he gets it from. “MOM!” Noah screamed, in capital letters, “There’s a gigantic flying cockroach in my room.” He had his phone to his ear and I saw this because he wasn’t using his phone to call me. He was calling his father who was at work, or maybe golfing. I have my bed to my ear because it was 11:15 p.m. I flipped my covers off, the way angry drivers flip off other drivers, and say, “Who are you calling, it’s 11:15 p.m.” I say this because I don’t want to even think about a gigantic flying cockroach and it is 11:15 p.m. In his bedroom I asked him the obvious questions. “Where is it?” and “Why are you calling Dad?” “It’s behind the blinds, and Dad told me to get you up.” I wrestled with this dilemma for what seemed like the longest two seconds. I couldn’t fathom how to handle the problem (and I also had the gigantic flying cockroach to deal with). Why would my husband want me to get up? I hate bugs. I

The National Weather Service has issued several advisories and warnings throughout the state regarding the heat. I have too. 1. Consuming high quantities of alcohol may result in: Sweaty, drunk golfers who will want to smoke cigars. 2. Avoid phoning golfer (who may be your husband) with incidental things like tripping electrical circuit breakers or that all 27 air conditioners “just wont stay on”. 3. This may result in missed putts, a beer, and smoking a cigar. 4. Avoid calling golfer (again) to say that “They’re still not ‘on’ and you’ve tried EVERYTHING”. 5. This may result in other, divorced, golfers to laugh – a lot. 6. Being laughed at, a lot, may result in club throwing, beer throwing (throwing a tantrum?), and smoking a cigar. Did he just hang up in me? 7. Wearing silly plastic vests with reflective strips may result in naked road construction workers. 8. Naked road construction workers may lead to 70-year-old women, named Arlene, tossing personal articles o

In order to beat the heat, headlines across the state are offering up ways to keep cool. Many hole up in air-conditioned rooms. I go to the beach. The ride takes about 30 minutes on a good day…in January. In July, it could take as long as what amounts to earning a masters degree. But, no worries, my gas guzzling SUV has air-conditioning. It's not the drive that takes so long but negotiating the parking lot on I-95 which extends as far south as Newark, NJ. Cars are loaded with coolers, beach chairs, those annoying beach umbrellas, and the even more annoying children who insisted on bringing shovels, pails, a backhoe, snorkels, Boogie Boards, and Jacques Cousteau. So, all of the cars are bumper to backhoe on the interstate. The air conditioning is on maximum, the children are well hydrated, the cooler is well…empty, and Jacques Cousteau is in his Speedo, speaking French, which he does well (the French, not the Speedo). Everyone is having fun beating the heat out there on the

I have realized that men and women are quite different. Besides the anatomical diversity, and that men only own two pairs of shoes (from the 80s) and the most obvious being that women have no desire to play air guitar while lip-syncing to Black Sabbath. This isn’t a recent revelation. I have known this since I was in grade school when Eddie Kumpitsch hung upside down from the jungle gym screaming out the words of “Jeremiah was a Bull Frog” swinging back and forth like a pendulum as his face turned the color of a turnip. While Jeremiah was a good friend of his, I wasn’t and wanted Jeremiah to come and take Eddie back to the swamp he obviously crawled out of. There they could eat flies, or maybe turnips, and croak for all I cared. Men and women are wired differently. Women use their brain cells to plan things. We plan for everything…pregnancies, birthday parties, graduation parties, sleepovers and natural disasters, which often are the same thing. But we are prepared for that. M

“What are you doing? Research?” my mate asked while I stood staring into the fridge, in my raincoat and clutching my favorite spatula. He was familiar with the get-up; he’d seen it before…once, maybe twice. He wanted no part of this cleaning spree. “Want to help?” I inquired. “I have to mow the lawn.” “It’s snowing.” “Dad, do we have any milk in there?” asked Christian, my teenager. My husband handed him the carton. “That’s not milk, that’s yogurt.” Christian looked at me… I pretended to adjust my swim goggles. “Unless you want to stay and help…” I said handing the remote, which was behind what might have been lettuce, to Noah. “Put this back where it belongs.” “Where does it go, in the freezer?” While I clean the fridge, its contents often distract me and I also tend to gag a lot. Anything that hasn’t left on its own – I make a mental note to increase its rent. Anything with an expiration dating back to Nixon’s term gets discarded. Everything else gets scrutinized – th

Summer, Kids, Chaos…It’s All Good Summer is almost here. The kids will be out of school and if yours are like mine, they will come off the bus for the last time this year, already bored. What to do? I have a few fun ideas to keep the boredom at bay while trying to maintain everyone’s sanity. Going to the park can be fun as well as healthy. Be sure to bring scooters or skateboards, sunscreen and plenty of water. A first aid kit is always a good safety measure to fix up any minor boo-boos. Your children will love the outing. They will ride the scooters, wearing the appropriate padding and headgear, steering clear of hills and trees. They will let you apply sunscreen knowing it is healthy to avoid exposure to the harmful rays of the sun. They will drink the water to keep themselves hydrated as they take in the sights, sounds and various plant life. My children - they will find the steepest hill, apply the sunscreen to this hill, add the water to hydrate the sunscreen, and then ra

Did You Know? May 27th is Heat Safety Awareness Day. I can only guess that this pertains to either your pets or barbequing in the back yard. As for your pets, National Spay Day (I kid you not), well, that is the in the last week of February so I will get back to you on that. Memorial Day weekend is almost upon us and grills will be firing up all across the country. The aroma of burgers, hotdogs, chicken, chicken that actually tastes like chicken, will awaken the primitive carnivore that sleeps in most of us. In the spirit of this heat safety awareness, there are only two things that people have a primal fear of. One is fire, the other is water. Both are needed to ensure success and safety while grilling out doors. Experts advise not to use a spray bottle of water on ‘flare-ups’. I tend to agree, and the garden hose does provide a safer distance in which to douse the flare-ups that lure enthusiastic firefighters. The spray bottle can, however, be used to keep stray tomcats aw