InSanity~Normalize, Don't Stigmatize Mentall Illness.

Tuesday, December 31, 2019

New Year's EvErotica, Welcome 2020!

Dear Silly Ones,
   As we pack 2019 away, I wish you a very Happy New Year! May it be a more calm and safe one that includes heaping spoonfuls of friendship, chocolate, naughtiness, and giggles.
   We're sending forceful-thoughts for safety and reprieve to our friends in Australia, Elephant's Child and Anthony, and many more.
Much love. Welcome, 2020!

Monday, December 23, 2019

Big, Big Santa: Christmas Erotica

Dearest Sillies,
   I can't thank you enough for popping in and out of this silly-fest for yet another year. Circumstances change, and those changes are often traumatic, yet your kindness and ferocity persevere. Blogland has become a safe and necessary haven, more than ever before. 
   Together, we prove that laughter is a key to life, one nearly as important as chocolate.  
   Please be good to yourselves. Keep faith that darkness will lift and sassyness shall prevail.
   A very warm-loving Holiday and New Year's to you.
   May your Christmas be at least as naughty as nice.
   Happy Hanukah to the Jewish world.
   Love you all.

Tuesday, December 17, 2019

Elf on the Shelf, Precious or A Weird Scam?

Dear Sillies,
   I don't understand the Elf on the Shelf phenomenon, do you? It's gone on for 15 years, and the product reaps millions per year. Well over one million folks follow Elf on the Shelf's Facebook page. 
   It's all creepy and weird to me. And now they have "girl" version. You can dress her as a mermaid (if you splurge on the mermaid tail). She's flat chested just like the guy, though. I'm suspect. 
   But wait, there's more: various stuffed animals like a St. Bernard that you MUST buy for your Elf. And skirts she can wear to the big little Elf prom. But the boy doesn't have any special attire. He's just a red suited anorexic. No worries, he's a star; the Elf on the Shelf DVD proves it. Don't miss out on any of the Elf on the Shelf books. That would make you a negligent parent or grandparent.
   Oy vey!

Claus Couture Collection<sup>®</sup> Merry Merry Mermaid: Scout Elf in Outfit
   Upon research, I've learned that others aren't thrilled either. In fact, over half a dozen folks who paid for a "girl" Elf on the Shelf with her skirts had this complaint:

1.0 out of 5 starsWatch out!! There is NO elf doll included with this skirt!Definitely thought this came with the elf as well. Am I that dumb? I don't think so, I think I was mislead. And the price was outrageous, so it seemed obvious that it comes with a doll! It does not. Why did I pay almost $20 for a skirt for an elf!!??And the worst part, I had to find an amazon drop off location to return it. Well, that drop off location was impossible to find. I walked around UCSD campus for 45 minutes looking for it! Serious joke. So I gave up, and now own this stupid expensive skirt. So irritated!

Imagine the horrors being stuck with Elf clothes but not having a body to put them on! Especially NOT during the holidays. I suppose you could gift the Olsen twins that tiny Elf skirt. Surely, they could both fit into it (at the same time).

1.0 out of 5 starsDescription did NOT accurately represent the actual product Was NOT clear on the ad about it being ONLY the sweaters for the elf on shelf. So once I purchased it, I had sweaters for an elf on the shelf.....but no elf on the shelf. 

Oh sweetie, you own little tiny Elf on the Shelf sweaters? Maybe you can keep your pinkie toes warm. Then go barefoot to your next ugly Christmas sweater party. I bet you'd be a winner!

And here's a question from one Elf on the Shelf customer, with an answer from another.

Question: My elf keeps watching me use the bathroom. Help?
Answer: Try closing the door. I'm guessing that your family is also getting a bit tired of watching.
Good answer! That elf is a perve.

What do you think of this Elfin craze, my friends?  
This Jewish gal says: Elf it!

Tuesday, December 10, 2019

Martha Stewart Ruins the Holidays Again

Oh, my Dears,
Call her a place-holder for frenzied times, I call Martha Stewart an annoying narcissistic witch with a bold-faced "b." I'm sorry she finagled her way back onto Life by Chocolate. Excuse my holiday pudge too. I can't stop - too many good treats around here.
Be safe. Be warm. Be good to yourselves.
Love you.

Wednesday, December 4, 2019

Comment Collage Starring YOU!

Dear Sillies,
Please keep yourselves warm and filled with chocolate and/or sweet things. And/or any things that make you feel good. I won't say more, lest I go into inappropriate weirdness. That's YOUR job today. Enjoy this comment collage, comprised of YOUR comments from the past couple of months.
Love ya.

Debra She Who Seeks said You're the only person I know who wants a threesome with Bernie and the Pope. Susan Kane said Will Matt Damon be there? Let me know. Bathwater said Sounds very Californian. My Jeep Wrangler doesn't speak but it does cut through the snow like butter. Elephant's Child said Fanning myself, and loving your drive. Powdered Toast Man said You can't see me in the pic but I am hiding under the table.
Alex J. Cavanaugh said Mom! Go get your own turkey. Martha said What a wonderful idea. Sounds like so much fun!Pat Hatt said Well if you get to go on Noah's Ark, you get to go two by two, so there is that.Geo. said I shall be padlocking my gate and throwing a quilt over my car's back window.
Sherry Ellis said Oh, boy. I'll stay tuned to see what happens. Elizabeth Seckman said You should start a line of naughty greeting cards. mail4rosey said It's always the right thing to do though, if you've been prompted to do it.
sage said A little patience here, after a belly full of beer maybe there would have been another midnight ride. Bathwater said Way to leave us hanging.  Alex J. Cavanaugh said Keep treating because Trix are for kids! L. Diane Wolfe said 20 pounds is really big.Joanne said Wow! and Whoa!

Monday, November 25, 2019

Thanksgiving Erotica, Booksgiving

On that note,
Have a scrumptious and excessively grateful Thanksgiving week. Love you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Giving Thanks. Giving BOOKS!
Dears, I'm at 75 books, thanks to locals. I'm now extending the ask so we can reach 100. Please let me know via email if you have books you're able to send to me for this special cause. Or tell me in the comments, along with your contact info. I'll forward you my address for delivery. TY!


for Yuba County JAIL DETAINEES

200 human-beings remain behind bars at the Yuba County Jail, simply because they want to live and provide for their loved ones. It’s sobering to imagine their strife. Good thing is, you can easily help: Give them wondrous escapes and life-altering inspiration through BOOKS. From now until December 21, 2019, I'm collecting new or very lightly used books – Spanish or English for Adults only, Paperback only, no violent or sexual content.

Our goal is 100 books, and we can far exceed this! Thank you.

Author Robyn Alana Engel in partnership with

Faithful Friends, a member group of 
(Note: This is a non-religious cause but religious books are accepted.)

Tuesday, November 19, 2019

Date by Telegram? Nincompooptitude

Dear Sillies,
    What happened to the long lost art Seriously, men my age (50 plus) -- you grew up with the coil wrapped around your fingers as you chatted on the phone -- did you not? Men of all ages: Congratulations! You can write "hey"! That's good for nothing. Hint: The "hey" that's for horses has an "a" not "e" in it.
   Yeah, I'm frustrated. I've had some fun* with male prospects in the past months. But when it comes to follow through, their girthy ineptitude shows.   *=kissy-kissy, no nookie-nookie.
   We'll call this man Paul Revere. Paul and I had fun* at a Halloween party. Paul put my number in his smart phone. He even tossed out a possible New Year's date, so I'm pretty sure he was interested. He seemed to be a nice, nerdy type. 
   But there was no next-day phone-call.
   Two days later, this FB correspondence ensued:
   "I tried to text you. Bad signal. I don't think you got it."
   "Drats. No worries. It was fun to meet you. I hope to see you again soon."
   "Are you free this weekend?"
   "Not Friday. Saturday, yes."
   No message until Sunday from Paul.
   "Sorry to keep you hanging. I couldn't make it. Brunch now to talk about the logistics of a proper date?"
   "Right now? No, I can't, catching up on lots of things. Thanks."
   "How about Wed?" You want to marry me? You can't even talk to me! He sends me a blurb about a music event on Wednesday.
   "Well, I've other things planned that night, but maybe we can meet afterwards, since I'll be a few doors down from the show."
   "Sounds great. Here's my land line 28675309. Other phone is 18675309. Land line#" (again for emphasis).
   "Okay. You have my number."
   "If you can't reach me, Western Union telegraph works in a pinch."

   "Ha! I'll send smoke signals."
   After I wrote this, I realized that perhaps he wasn't trying for humor. I googled the telegram/telegraph. Guess what, my dears? It still exists!
  Furthermore, the shortest telegraphic exchange is attributed to Oscar Wilde. Living in Paris, he is supposed to have cabled his publisher in London to see how how his new book was doing. The telegram simply read “?” to which the reply cabled back was "!" 

I wrote to Revere again:
   "I thought you were kidding about Western Union. I'm not up for that. This is taking too much work. Best of luck to you."

   Sigh. One if by land, two if by sea, three if I shalt ne'er see you again, Mr. Revere. 
Be well, safe, and good to you!

Tuesday, November 12, 2019

L.A. Stories

Dear Sillies,
   You know that teacher who left a positive, lasting impression? I was fortunate enough to have a handful of them. It's not a private, charter, or well-known school, but Kentwood Elementary (in Westchester, Los Angeles) was a sanctuary for me and many. The teachers cared so much that they still do - decades later. We're still their "kids." They follow our progress and dips. They cheer for and support us. They express their pride and concern, to this day.
   Several years ago, I reconnected on Facebook with my former third grade Teacher. She suggested a reunion when I next visit LA. I kept saying "yes, I'll plan something." But I kept not following through until I decided it was time. We need to appreciate people while they're still with us, after-all.
   We made a date and agreed that even if it would only be the two of us, it'd be great. Look what happened! Party of 40!

   My wonderful third grade teacher 45 years ago, sits at the head of the table. Two people to her left, my former sixth grade teacher. (I'm halfway down the row to the right. My brother's between my former sixth grade teacher and the woman in the orange shirt. My sis is two people to the right of me). 
   It's very fulfilling to honor people who played an instrumental role in my becoming the person I am. The chatter, re-connections, new connections, and love that filled the room has helped keep me afloat ever since. 

   As I'm going more personal than usual, remember my little cutie-pie nephew? He's the chocolate-faced love-bug on my right sidebar. Yeah, not so little anymore. He's a pre-teen -- a wicked smart, beautiful, multi-talented sweetheart who NEVER brags about having gotten taller than his Auntie in the past few years. I appreciate that about him most of all.

   After a scary car drive home from LA to Chico (with "!" light on for a bulk of the journey, proceeding my having been stranded in Lost Hills with an overheated engine), it was time to breakup with Luna. She'd taken me all over for 15 years, 191,000 miles worth of rides. Our final trek having been what it was, though, compelled me trade her for a younger, prettier model.
   Meet Charm (my third car). She's a toddler. It wasn't love at first site, but I'm falling quickly. We've been together for 4 days now.
    Charm's a Ford CMax Hybrid. I love that she's so environmentally concerned. She even tells me "Thank you for driving a hybrid" whenever I let her sleep. How thoughtful.

   All in all, it's been a very good, busy, love infused past month or so.

   Til next time, my Dears.
   Be safe, warm, and well.

Thursday, November 7, 2019

The Camp Fire, One Year Later and Joey

My Dears,
   I now bring you the finale to my story, Good Lies. It started here, with part 2 here. Onto part 3. I've altered it slightly and left out episodes before I met Joseph. If anyone would like the full 5-page story, feel free to message me here or at I'll be happy to forward. 

   Please be good to yourselves, and stay safe. 
   In case of emergency: Keep faith and a stash of chocolate.

   I studied my laptop screen, finding and recording numbers for the few local emergency rooms. My tears moved faster than the rest of me. Damnit, Joseph. I was supposed to save you. I can’t do that if you went and dropped dead on me. 

   Four nervous hours passed before my phone rang.
   Phew. His number. “Joseph?”

   “Yeah, it’s me, Robyn. It wasn’t a heart attack. They said it was just anxiety.”
   “Oh thank goodness, Joseph.”
   “Yeah. Hey, you can call me Joey, by the way.”
   “I was so worried about you, Joey.”
   “Yeah I’m sorry.”
   “No, don’t be sorry. I’m just so glad you’re okay. Where are you now?”
   We proceeded to make plans for the next day.

   I don’t remember our discourse as much as I do the sense of full-fledged genuine humanness. There were no layers of complication, no unspoken agendas, no shyness or bravado, no artificial pretenses or power-plays – just two human beings, being human together.
   Practically speaking, I didn’t help much at all. In fact, Joey spoke competently to FEMA and DMV representatives. He could’ve gotten there on his own or with someone else. He’d still have to wait weeks for a new license plus word from FEMA.
   “Someday, I’ve gotta write my story,” he shared en route back.
   “That’s great. Writing’s my thing, Joey. I’ll help you with that.”
   “Heck yeah. You can publish it for me.”
   “I will.” I nodded. “I’m gonna publish your story.” (Note: If you’re reading this, I told the truth. If you’re not reading this, we’re both liars.)
   “Perfect,” he grinned.
   Back at the Fairgrounds, we stepped out of the car.
   “Come over here so I can give you a hug,” he told me.
   Joey and I exchanged a warm, grateful hug. “You keep fighting Robyn. I’ll never forget you.”
   “Much better days are ahead, Joey. You’re very strong and brave. I’ll be cheering for you all the way.”
   He nodded. “We’ll stay in touch.”
   At that, Joey imparted a military style salute.

  One year since the Camp Fire, sadness and trauma feel as fresh and surreal as ever.
   I didn’t save lives.
   I’ve luxuriated in safety and security. My path’s been cushioned in ways that I’ve routinely taken for granted.
   Still, I did hold the world within view for one man who couldn’t see a thing. How I did that, I don’t know. I was simply a good enough person, who told some good enough lies.