“Hey Donald Trump, Keep Your Grubby Paws Out of My Vagina, Ok?”

Yoo hoo! Over here! *waves arms furiously*

Hi, Donald. How ya doing today?

See me?

Hear me.

As Judge Judy often says, and I’ll paraphrase…put on your listening ears. You have two ears and one mouth for a reason.

Let me make myself particularly clear.

My parts belong to ME.

MY eyes, MY nose, My arms, MY uterus, cervix, ovaries, and vagina.

All mine.


Not yours.

Not yours to invade and certainly not yours to grope or grab at the behest of one of your NASTY little whims.

(See, there’s the proper use of the word “nasty“. Donald, don’t refer to Hillary Clinton as “nasty” because that’s REALLY a whole lotta narcissistic projection going on, DONALD, along with some garden variety “pot-calling-the-kettle-black”  blameshifting, smearing, and gaslighting.)

Unless I invite you in or ask for your opinion, keep your grubby paws to yourself.

If I get pregnant and do not want -FOR WHATEVER REASON- to grow the little sperm/egg combo to maturity, it is my RIGHT, not YOURS, to determine the outcome.

D’ya hear me?


Do you hear me now?

Do you understand? Comprendo? Verstehen?

To recap…

I am a woman. Stay out of my body. Stop telling me what I can and what I cannot do with all of my parts; past, present, and future.

Here’s an insightful article on Huffington Post by an OB/GYN.

Donald Trump Confuses Birth With Abortion. And No, There Are No Ninth Month Abortions.

(Photo courtesy of http://photos.gograph.com/thumbs/CSP/CSP519/k5193117.jpg)

Best Friends

“Marry your best friend. Marry someone who you wouldn’t mind waking up to every day for the rest of your life. The one who makes you glad to be alive. Marry someone who drives you crazy. The one who frustrates you. The one who calms you. Marry the one you don’t mind fighting with because they will be fair about it. Don’t marry someone who gives their ego more importance than they give you. Marry someone who makes you the best version of yourself. The one who believes in you even when you don’t. The one who stands by you through thick and thin. The one you can weather life’s storms with. Marry someone you can’t imagine your life without. Marry the one who knows what you want to say even when you’re too tired to say it with words. The one you can spend comfortable silences with from time to time. The one who loves a seashell as much as a Chanel. Marry your best friend.” (From Think Positive Words)

vintage weddingpic


Before I was Princess Rosebud and Rowdy Rosie, I was a little girl who loved to dance in pink tutus and satin toe shoes.

A sweet and innocent little girl who was very gentle and sorta clueless about life.

Who loved animals (especially wolves and coyotes and foxes and mountain lions and bobcats) but all animals really.

Who never had to face life’s seriously sucky tribulations, cos life was pretty good most of the time.

Especially when there were seashells to pick off a sandy beach. Or someone thought about me and brought home a handful of seashells from one of their vacations.

Seashells make me happy. Butterflies make me happy, too, but that’s a different story.

This is about death. DEATH. Not a metamorphosis.


Death is pretty final in a lot of ways. I mean in this plane, on this Earth, when someone dies, stops breathing, heart stops beating…well, that’s pretty final.

Why do some deaths hit us harder than others?

Randomly searching for something on the internet, I discovered that a friend and business associate I hadn’t seen in a long time had died of cancer a few months ago.

I didn’t know. No one told me. How did this happen, that I didn’t know?

The death and the not knowing shocked me, rocked me to my core. I was sobbing. Not him, I thought. Not him. Good men like that should live to be one-hundred-years at least.

(I could tell you how it happened that I didn’t know, I could elucidate, fill you in on all the deets, but then the story would be all about me and not a way, however small, to honor this fine, fine man.)

I heard him say this one thing a thousand times, “Hey guys, here’s just another rusty brain idea I’d like to run by you.”

He was one of those true-blue, honorable, faithful, simply noble, ethical, principled, reliable, honest, trustworthy, dependable, SALT OF THE EARTH men.

They don’t make them like that any more. Trust me on that. It’s really so simple, when you think about it. Not a difficult way to live one’s life if you know what’s really important.

All men (and women) should aspire to conduct their lives to that standard. A decent man with character and a deep commitment to his wife and family.

A never-give-up kind of man. The very definition of what a man should be.

If you needed anything, Steve was there. Especially if there was food involved. Oh yes, Steve loved to eat, that’s for sure.

I sent his wife a letter expressing my sorrow for her loss and apologized for not knowing and not attending his memorial service.

She wrote back almost immediately.

True to form, he never told anyone of his battle with cancer. Thinking back, I remember he was always showing up with bandages all over his face and head from skin cancer surgeries, but he brushed aside all questions about his health. The cancer spread and though it was quite painful, he never complained.

One day he collapsed and died in his wife’s arms, the only place that was ever really home to him.

I honor you, Steve, and I will miss you forever. More than you could know. This is a big loss, a big death, and my heart goes out to your lovely family.







Harming an Animal…No Big Deal?

“Bang bang.”

During a late afternoon walk around the neighborhood, I passed by a house where three or four children (in the eight to ten-year age range) were playing in their front yard.

Maybe at this point I should highlight the fact that I live in a SoCal beach town; solid middle-class, lots of healthy living, outdoor activities, and for the past thirty-plus years, it’s been relatively crime-free.

I’m still troubled by what I witnessed.

I wasn’t paying too much attention to the children until I heard one of the boys say, “The cat, do the cat!” and I saw a black and white cat running to hide in a stand of low growing bushes near the sidewalk.

I heard a popping sound at the same exact time I saw another little shit boy with a plastic gun-type thing pointing it at the cat. Whatever little plastic thingy that was shot out of the gun actually hit the cat, who yelped and ran in a different direction.

What made this abuse even more egregious to me was that the little shits  boys LAUGHED.

Harming an animal on purpose was a source of amusement.

WTF is wrong with people?

Never one to ignore bad behavior or shy away from standing up for animal rights, I turned to the two laughing and gawking little shits boys (the girls had run off at this point) and stated, “You just shot at the cat. I saw you.”

Pretend you are saying those words with the scariest, meanest tone in your voice that you could possibly conjure up. Add a frown, squint your eyes, and you come up with a fair approximation of ME at that moment. I wasn’t referred to as “Mommy Monster” for nothing…

One of the boys ( the blame shifter) quickly pointed to the other boy and said, “I didn’t do it, he did”as he showed us all HIS true colors. Then he too ran away before I followed HIM home because he’s the one who set up his friend to shoot at the poor kitty.

I said to the future sociopath, “Is that your cat?” He nodded. “Do you live here?” He nodded.

“Go in the house RIGHT NOW and come back with your mother or father.”

“Harming an animal is NOT acceptable. What you did was NOT OK.”

The little future Jeffrey Dahmer went in the house and a few minutes later a man reluctantly opened the door a crack and peered out.

I introduced myself and told him what I witnessed. I explained to him that I loved animals, I’m an animal activist, and hoped he would appreciate the serious nature of what his son had done. He said he would discipline his child and let him know what he did was wrong. I explained to him that in my opinion, he should take away the gun because it’s obvious his son didn’t have respect for animals and should not be allowed to hurt another one.

That’s when it got ugly, guys.

The big shit  dad told me that he didn’t need my help raising his children, and I responded by saying that it’s clear to me that he wasn’t doing a very good job if his son thought it was funny to hurt a cat.  He then informed me in a snotty tone not to raise my voice (I was not raising my voice at all, but that’s something stupid people say to shift the conversation away from the actual content) AND he would raise his children HIS way and I should raise mine MY way and GET OFF HIS PROPERTY.

Since I NEVER miss an opportunity to not-so-humblebrag about my Angel Boy, I pointed to my t-shirt which said “Somebody at Yale LOVES You” as I proudly proclaimed, “I DID my good job, that’s why my son has a Ph.D. from Yale”, and as I sauntered down his driveway, I turned to him and said I might call the police because animal abuse by children could be a red flag sign of future sociopathic crime. He got in the last word by yelling, “Go ahead and call the police!”

I’m drinking a glass of wine now, wondering if I actually should call the po-po to reinforce the concept that abuse of any animal for any reason is horrible behavior and should not be tolerated. There is a very real correlation between children who harm animals and those who commit more serious crimes later in life.

What do you think I should do? And how was YOUR Monday?

This distressing incident made me think of my darling Bandit. I miss her every day.*Sniff*
How could anyone hurt an innocent creature?


Midlife Crisis or FTD?

And I’m not talking about getting flowers delivered.

I’m referring to FTD (Frontotemporal Dementia).

The disease begins with a change in personality that’s often seen as volitional. Introverts become extroverts. Once-agreeable employees act rude. Formerly faithful spouses have affairs, and while they acknowledge their transgressions, they are unable to appreciate the implications. Some end up institutionalized because their behavior looks like mental illness. Some are incarcerated when they break the law.

The atypical presentation of Frontotemporal Dementia (or Pick’s Dementia) may resemble a midlife crisis, depression, bi-polar disorder, schizophrenia, or a traumatic brain injury and typically strikes between the ages of 45-65.

Researchers believe that between 30,000 and 50,000 people in the United States have FTD. There is no cure, and the disease leads to death, often within eight years, either from accidents or secondary infections.(From the Portland Press Herald)

Is it an epidemic? Is it a misdiagnosis?

Patients are often diagnosed with depression and advised to take appropriate medication that doesn’t seem to really diminish the crying, overwhelming sadness, and feeling of dread.

In searching for answers, they say they feel like their lives have turned into a “twilight zone” that no doctor or therapist “understands” what’s going on.

And they might be right.

Signs and Symptoms of Frontotemporal Dementia

Each case of FTD is different, but the illness generally becomes more distinguishable from other brain conditions as it progresses. Symptoms may occur in clusters, and some may be more prevalent in early or later stages.

  • Low Vitamin D3 levels
  • Low testosterone, brain fog etc, and does not respond to treatment.
  • There is a theory of correlation between sleep apnea and diminished neurological capacity.

Here is a list of ten signs of FTD:

  1. Poor judgment
  2. Loss of empathy
  3. Socially inappropriate behavior
  4. Lack of inhibition
  5. Repetitive compulsive behavior
  6. Inability to concentrate or plan
  7. Frequent, abrupt mood changes
  8. Speech difficulties
  9. Problems with balance or movement
  10. Memory loss

It’s possible that the change in behavior was caused by a little-known disease called frontotemporal dementia, a neurological disorder centered in the frontal lobe of the brain, the part responsible for our behavior and emotions.

The symptoms are often wrongly blamed on alcoholism, depression, menopause, mid-life crises, stress, or schizophrenia, and patients can go through years of negative tests for other ailments like cancer, strokes, and syphilis before learning the truth about what is actually wrong.

Scientists have found that 70 percent of frontotemporal dementia patients showed damage to brain cells called von Economo neurons, found in the anterior cingulated cortexes, which are involved in self-awareness and socializing.

Frontotemporal dementia, also called frontotemporal degeneration, refers to a group of diseases that destroy nerve centers in the frontal and temporal lobes — the home of decision-making, emotion, judgment, behavior, and language. Some forms of the disease also cause movement disorders.

Some lose their inhibitions and moral judgment. Shoplifting and acting out sexually is not uncommon. Many have the apathy and social disconnection that usually go with depression. Often, relatives of patients say doctors dismiss their reports of personality change, but it is real.

The frontal lobes are responsible for helping inhibition and behavior regulation, so people with frontal lobe dementia will often exhibit strange or unusual behaviors and personality changes. In fact, personality changes and behavior problems are hallmarks of the disorder.

This is from Robin Albright about her husband who has been diagnosed with FTD: “For the first half of 2012, my husband Dave, fought what we thought was low testosterone, depression and what I assumed was a big horrible case of mid-life crisis. He acted weird on so many levels. This all began “officially” in February, but now that I understand FTD, I can see signs and symptoms back a few years. In February, Dave seemed distant and had this weird look in his eyes. I noticed that he would stop and stare at himself in the mirror. He stopped talking to me and rarely looked at me unless it was an empty stare. I, like the wife of 32 years I’d always been, began “opening up communication.” I would pry and poke at topics hoping to understand what he was feeling or going through. In years past, this worked but not now. Dave became angry and frustrated. I’d ask what was wrong and he had no answer. I was certain that he must have another woman or was looking. I remember saying, “If you’re not with ME, then who are you with?” We almost divorced, spent that spring going to the general practitioner, a psychiatrist, a psychologist and a marriage counselor trying to cure his “depression” and our supposed marital problems but nothing seemed to help. The worst part of it all was that no one wanted to believe me – or so it felt. I felt incredibly alone.”

“They’re not down, but they just don’t enjoy things as much as they used to,” Dr. Huey said. “There appears to be a dysfunction in the reward circuit, where activities that were rewarding and pleasurable no longer seem to be. These patients lose themselves.”

A professional workup is definitely an important step in addressing the changes.

If you’re in the San Diego area, please call Dr. Douglas Galasko (858-657-8540) at the UCSD Memory Disorders Clinic. He will be able to provide the appropriate work up and has expertise in this area.  He will also be able to recommend research opportunities if they are a fit/available.

Physical exam and patient history

Because the first symptoms of FTD are sometimes constitutional, identifying the actual date of onset may require some probing. Suggested questions to ask include: Has there been a change in personality, creativity, emotional attachment to others, drive, organizational skills or social abilities?

You should get a measure of complete blood count, electrolytes, renal, liver and thyroid function and serum B12. All patients diagnosed with FTD should have at least an MRI to look for frontal and anterior temporal atrophy. Other laboratory and imaging tests may be required, including SPECT and PET SCANS.

Treating FTD

Unfortunately, FTD has no cure. Current FTD treatments focus on easing symptoms but cannot slow the disease’s progress. Physicians may prescribe antidepressant or antipsychotic drugs to combat behavioral symptoms. Patients suffering from language issues may benefit from speech therapy.

The next time you think your spouse might be suffering from a midlife crisis, take that extra step and have a complete neurological exam. It might just be a brain disorder and not simply bad behavior.

from http://www.alzheimers.net/2014-05-15/signs-of-frontotemporal-dementia/


Three Back-to-School Morning Routine Tips For the Whole Family

It’s not too late for a back-to-school post, I hope! Everyone’s goes back to school at different times–it’s early days; routines are still being fine tuned.
I haven’t had another furbaby since my darling Bandit and my best friend and Border Collie, Victor, travelled over the Rainbow Bridge, but it’s TIME. I don’t know how I’ve been able to go this long without muddy paws, twice daily vacuuming, and endless unconditional love,  but the day has come. (A rescue, of course.)
All I have to display this cute Milkbone fashion scarf is this cute little stuffed animal wolf.
But when Milk-Bone sent me an assortment of vitamin treats (and a toy!), I knew that it was a message from the Universe and I hear it loud and clear. See that pic of a Border Collie on the packaging? My absolute FAVORITE dog breed, so you can be sure I’ll be checking out Border Collie Rescues in my area very soon.
Dogs and their human companions have something very important in common: both are creatures of habit. 
With school about to start—it’s the perfect time to make sure the whole family gets off on the right paw with the right habits at the start of the day. (And it’s so much more fun when the whole family is involved!)
1Get active with your four-legged trainer in the morning.
40% of doggy mommies and daddies do healthy things with their pups at the same time that they do healthy things for their families. By adding doggy exercise to the rest of your family’s morning routine, your dog can actually begin to encourage the rest of your family to stay active!
2. Involve your kids in caring for Fido (and for themselves).
Dogs, just like young kids, need role models. 57% of dog parents who also have human children involve their kids in caring for their pet—instilling responsibility and good daily habits like brushing their teeth and taking their vitamins.
3. Make sure your dog consistently receives the nutrients necessary to live a long and happy life.
1 in 3 pet parents are confused about what’s needed for proper pet nutrition, meaning many pup parents are unaware that their dogs’ diets may be lacking in essential nutrients.  Milk-Bone Good Morning Daily Vitamin Treats were created specifically to promote your dog’s well-being and longevity. So when you’re giving your kids their daily vitamins, remember that your pup needs their nutrient-packed treats too.  Your dog adds so much to the family—make sure to take care of him/her for the long-term!
Learn more about Milk-Bone’s Good Morning Daily Vitamins on their site:
What are your family’s favorite morning routines? Tell us how you and your pooch get ready to take on the day in the comments below!
(I was provided product only; no compensation.)


KAABOO Del Mar is an experience not to be missed!

KAABOO is three days full of fun, with almost forty hours packed with memories and fun.

September 16-17-18

I talked to some friends who went last year and there was 100% agreement: vibes were perfect, food was delicious, and the music was AMAZING.

In addition to a plethora of acts including Aerosmith, Lenny Kravitz, and Jimmy Buffet, there’s Sarah Silverman, Darrel Hammond, and Cheech and Chong!

Plus loads of good food and beverages!

Click here for the schedule and all info: https://www.kaaboodelmar.com/the-experience/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kaabooexperience/
Download app: bit.ly/kaabooapp

I’ll be there, wearing the latest in trendy concert fashion.You’ll find me roaming around with my camera. Find me and I’ll take your pic!

Get ready for this journey of discovery!





Wild Times: Sex, Drugs, and Mammoth Mountain

I have a friend who wrote a book, which in and of itself is an amazing accomplishment since my own book is stuck in limbo somewhere between my head and a few notes in this computer, but this isn’t even his first foray into publishing-he authored Zen and the Art of Surfing, too.

Greg Gutierrez is an amazing human for many reasons. He’s an artist, an educator, a vocal supporter of the environment, and a powerful local community activist.

Also a surfer. Also a skier.

When I first started to read Mammoth Mountain, I was immediately transported back to my own college years when I split my time between San Diego State University and Mammoth, where I lived part of the year on Lupin St. For me, those were spectacular days with tons of snow, skiing from first light to dark. If I didn’t have a ride up to the mountain, I’d start walking and someone would always pick me up. It was a great little community before the whole mountain exploded in condos and timeshares and tourism.

I never met Greg back then–our paths never crossed–two ships in the night and all that, and my own experiences in Mammoth were TAME compared to his, that’s for sure!

The subtitle of Mammoth Mountain is “Follow the 1980’s life of Drew, a pot smoking, thieving, womanizer…”

Now I don’t have PROOF that Drew is Greg…but I’m kinda sorta connecting the dots, if you know what I mean.

I don’t want to give away the storyline or the ending, but this is way more than a journal that chronicles one debauchery after another…there’s serious substance here, a coming of age, a rite of passage, painful growth, self examination, and enlightenment.

He lost his way, his life went off course, but what did he find?

He found himself.

There’s love, there’s a lot of love here, and at the end of the day, that’s all we have. That’s all that really matters. To love and be loved.

And if we don’t love ourselves, we can never truly know love.

P.S. Who should read this book? EVERYONE. 

Welcome To The Jungle

Before I was Princess Rosebud, I was Rowdy Rosie, did you know that? Something must have happened over the years to morph RR into PR, but she’s BACK!  (You can read a previous post about RR here: https://enchantedseashells.com/2013/07/02/the-story-of-rowdy-rosie/)

All you need is a little patience, right? Well, to paraphrase my rock and roll crush, Axl Rose, I guess I needed twenty-plus years of patience, ‘cos that’s how long it took between Guns N’ Roses concerts. At least for me.

When my good friend from Cowboys and Crossbones told me their Not In This Lifetime tour was one of the best concerts she’d ever attended, my ears perked up. When I discovered GnR would end their US tour in San Diego, I knew I’d have to something about it.

I dusted off an old Rowdy Rosie sheer lace spandex camisole I’d kept safe (just in case) since the nineties nestled in tissue paper and wore it over a black and white polka dotted push up bra, squirmed into skinny jeans so tight there wasn’t an ounce of space to breathe, added studded moto boots, and the look was complete. gunsandrosesfashion

Not too bad for a grandma, am I right? (DO NOT ANSWER THAT RHETORICAL QUESTION!!)

After a slight mishap at the trolley station where I accidentally fell onto the tracks. No adult beverages nor any mind altering substances could be blamed…the sun was in my eyes and it was SUPER crowded-sometimes the truth is BORING, but the truth is what you get in Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife…

The opening act was the Cult, do you remember them? They did a great job of holding our attention until Axl hit the stage.

OK, here’s where more truth comes in.

We are all aware of the inexorable march of time; it can’t be stopped, we all get older, look older, feel older–none of us really has a picture in the attic (literary reference to Picture of Dorian Gray)-even Botox and a skilled surgeon can only for a brief moment hold back the tick-tock of aging.

So…when that sweet bad boy child of mine, the now fifty-four-year-old Axl Rose first appeared, I do believe there was a collective GASP from the crowd, or maybe it was just me? I mean, I know it’s been 20+ years, but I really expected him to still look like…





Side by side comparison…Where did he go?

And it didn’t matter at all. Once he started to sing, I was transported back to that special place where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky (lyrics to “Sweet Child of Mine”)

He’s still bad boy sexy though, and if I squinted, he kinda sorta-well no, actually not at all.

He’s aged, I’ve aged, we’ve all aged. He’s had some work done, not exactly a total Mickey Rourke, but a bit, and he’s brave to step on stage knowing how the world sees him in reality versus in dreams (oops, my bad, hee hee.)

I screamed like a teenager.

I danced like no one was watching (no one was) and had the BEST TIME OF MY LIFE.concertME

The biggest difference in the two concerts from then and now -except for the cost of the ticket lol-was the ubiquitous presence of cell phones capturing every single moment. I’m guilty of that too.

When the first chords of “Welcome to the Jungle” started up, there was nowhere in the world I would have rather been than experiencing that iconic moment.

They played nonstop for more than 2 1/2 hours and ended with “Paradise City”.

As we ran to grab the trolley back to our vehicle, we saw Slash drive away in his black limo SUV and he waved to us.


And now I’ll have a forever scar to remember it by…dropmic


Dear Carlsbad, Oh What a Year It’s Been…

I posted this on Facebook today:

One year ago, I showed up at Carlsbad City Council as an thirty-year resident who had finally had it with the way this city was being manipulated by outside developers. The final straw was the possibility that a monstrosity of a concrete mall was to be built on Agua Hedionda Lagoon. NO WAY, I thought. I didn’t even have a speech written when I pushed my way through the crowd, but I knew it was time to step up and speak up. That was the night I spoke about “not being impressed by men in fancy suits with fake tans.” I may have walked in to those hostile chambers alone, but walked out with the new and lasting friendship of a tribe of hundreds and hundreds who soldiered on to save the lagoon as we’re saving Carlsbad, one council seat at a time. Much love, appreciation, and gratitude to our TRIBE.

Yes, the lagoon is safe FOR NOW. But there will always be the threat of over-development and that’s why we stand vigilant, never again complacent to the machinations of our self-serving local government.

Here’s my speech in its entirety:

“First, I’d like to make a brief observation; other than the farm workers at the strawberry fields, Caruso’s soft focused Utopian propaganda video had no people of cultural diversity represented. Kind of crazy, right? I mean, when you really think about it? What’s that all about?

[This refers to a video shown by Caruso Affiliated. Big bucks in play here.]

Mayor and council, I need to make myself particularly clear. 

I’m not impressed by fancy suits and ‘healthy’ fake tans.

My family and I are vehemently opposed to the development of Agua Hedionda.

Agua Hedionda is a sensitive resource and ecosystem that needs to be saved and protected and restored, NOT built upon and destroyed.

I love to shop and I don’t want Nordstrom built on the lagoon when we have a perfectly good mall that needs the promised renovation.

No matter what or how we were duped in 1986 and 2006, that should not mean this deception should continue.

For thirty years, I’ve watched you and other councils systematically destroy land and native habitats in Carlsbad.

This needs to stop.

Enough is enough.

My family and I vehemently oppose all building on Agua Hedionda.

Enough is enough.

Leave it alone.

Shame on you Mayor and City Council. 

Shame on you all.

And finally, Mr. Blackburn, we met privately about the pet store in the Westfield mall that sells puppy mill dogs and you PROMISED me that when the mall was renovated and all the stores were closed, that store would be gone and wouldn’t be allowed back. But it’s still open. You promised and I feel betrayed.

Do the right thing, would you?”

More to read…

Something Sorta Stinks in Carlsbad

Power to the people ‘cos sometimes the only answer is a revolution

“Carlsbad Referendum Signatures Stun Caruso, City Council Pals”