Approximately 1.8 billion people, including children and infants, live without indoor plumbing, and the water source that they may have is often as much as a mile away.

I'm not getting up on a soap box; but this fact is important when you are trying to explain to your 12- and 13-year-old kids that our pipes breaking and being without a commode or bath for two days is a minor setback in the grand scheme of things.

Our plumbing broke, and there was no male counterpart to even pretend that he might be able to fix it. It was my problem. I called the plumber, but it was Sunday. He came Monday afternoon. We went to my brother's home to bathe, but as far as that other necessity, well, let's just say we improvised. 

No man. Well, there are many, many things I can think of that are much, much worse, in the grand scheme of things. And, on those rare occasions when I find that I actually have time to share with someone, over the age of 30, I'm so exhausted that it's a fleeting thought at best.

No man to fix my plumbing in my house, in my soul, in my body. And, that's alright. It may turn out to be alright for, well, forever. If men are only useful for plumbing and auto mechanics and, if you're lucky, garbage detail, but are not going to soothe your forehead when you are sick or rub your feet when you are tired or make dinner or run a bubble bath or buy some flowers, then to hell with it. 

So, I'm alone, like so many of my fellow FWW'ers. And, it's okay. Sometimes it's wonderful. Sometimes it's incredible. Yes, I wish I had a full time partner to share my life with, but I don't. However, what I do have is indoor plumbing, so I'm headed to the shower to bask in hot, running water, soap, steam, and my life, which, for the most part, is a very good life. 

Serious winter calls for serious sunshine. I just pulled mine out of the closet. I bought my Verilux HappyLite a couple years ago. People laughed and laughed until they tried it and got happy, too.

This year especially, nothing could be cheaper than taking a vacation in your living room. Talk about punting during a recession.

Years ago I interviewed Nicholas Harmon, the CEO of Verilux, the happy lighting company, to understand how his lights were different. They are. It's called full spectrum lighting and there is such a thing as light therapy. This version of course, will have you talking to yourself unless you invite company.

These Verilux lights simulate daylight and the effect that a nice bright sunny day outside has on your brain. Plants grow better, kids do better on homework and if you suffer from SAD, seasonal affective disorder (lack of sunshine), a half hour a day exposed to this kind of light helps offset depression. Unfortunately you don't get tan...just happy. Ok then, sunshine you can afford. Check out Verilux Light Therapy Products and Full Spectrum Lighting.

p.s. If I sounded happier than usual it's because I am writing this with my HappyLite on.

Attitude is everything!
Best,
Debbie

Happy New Year! Time for new resolutions. I decided to try Zumba.

You may have seen the new infomercials of the gyrating hips hopping their way to weight loss. Me too. My local gym added the class this week so I went. How hard can gyrating be?

Ask my stiff neck.

The music is fun, and the steps are easy to catch on to, But keeping up the pace? Let's just say the moves reminded me of some I may have attempted after a few cosmos late at night in some club once upon a time. (Okay — last week.)

Zumba without strobe lights and liquor? Whew! Tough sweaty stuff. Made me have new respect for those Dancing with the Stars people. Me, I was dancing seeing stars, utilizing muscles that apparently went into early retirement. In the mirror behind the instructor I watched myself do hip gyrations that would make my mother blush and my daughter leave town.

Zumba, my dear girlfriends, is the perfect workout for those of you just heading back into the dating game. Just be prepared for moves you haven't used in a while and get some Ben Gay. That's all I have  to say.

Attitude is everything!
Debbie

Leave me a comment or email me anytime at dnigro@firstwivesworld.com

I don't drink. It took a long time and some hard knocks to teach me that I just ought not consume alcohol, because my life is better when I don't.

But New Year's Eve is a good time for me to remember that.

It's pretty simple. I know there is nothing I can't make worse by adding alcohol to it. But the idea that one doesn't drink, ever, can be really difficult for people to grasp because drinking is such a huge part of life in these United States.

Big events are easy. I secure a glass of ginger ale or cola as soon as I arrive. When I have something in my hand, there's no reason for anybody to try to put a drink there, and I've never had anybody make a big deal of the fact that I'm abstaining from alcohol.

When I attend a more intimate affair, I bring sparkling cider or juice so I‘m sure there's something I‘ll enjoy.

But at either type of gathering, if the nonalcoholic drinks run out, if the shenanigans of the drinkers get to be a bit much, or if I find myself wanting a drink, I thank my hostess and leave.

Those who drink alcohol can be curious or unsettled in the presence of those who don't. Often people who have a problem with the idea that someone doesn't drink have an alcohol problem of their own. Others may simply be unused to the concept, just as it can take a while for some people to understand that "vegetarian" means not eating flesh at all, not even turkey or fish.

I've tried to assure the people I care about that they needn't worry about drinking in my presence. My alcohol issues are mine, and I don't want anybody else to get caught up in them.

The best way I've found to do that is not to take a drink. And so I will not be having a drink on New Year's Eve. Or, I hope, any other time.

I think I want to become a cashier. In yesterday's classifieds I found an ad seeking Cashiers — yes, with a capital C. One of the grocery stores I frequent is looking for cashiers (who also will get to stock shelves and clean floors) to start at $10.80 per hour.

That's a lot more than I made last time I was a cashier.

This company appears to treat its workers better than everybody I cashiered for in my misspent youth, too. The people at the registers sit in chairs and customers bag their own purchases.

But, and this is what really got my attention, employees are eligible for insurance covering medical, dental, and vision after 90 days.

Wow. That would've been enough to get me excited, but wait, there's more: The company also offers a retirement income plan and 401(k), paid vacation after six months — and an extra dollar an hour for working on Sundays, when they don't open until noon.

I remember real jobs, the kind that offered such marvelous benefits. And the benefits are what I really need, thank you very much; if I could get an employer to give me decent health insurance, I might be willing to forgo a salary.

Heaven knows I've made do without one for years.

I have a graduate degree and lots of experience in areas other than retail. Before I moved, the Good Doctor instructed me not to sell myself short in my quest for work. She might not exactly approve of my aspiration to ring up roasts, instant coffee, and bags of apples.

On the other hand, I think she'd probably appreciate my desire to keep feeding and housing myself and the animals and to have the medical coverage I so feared losing when I got divorced.

When she got divorced, she was a waitress.

The ad says a representative will be available to meet Cashier hopefuls tomorrow beginning at 7 am. It'll be pretty cold then.

I hope the line won't be too long.