I don’t know how it happened, but somehow, while my mind was elsewhere, it appears that coconut oil has taken over the world.

Apparently there is no limit to the uses one can make of this miracle product. Forget about just using it for baking or sautéing vegetables. That’s for amateurs. Coconut oil is being hyped for all kinds of benefits.

On the beauty side, it’s being touted as a makeup remover, skin moisturizer, natural sunscreen, age spot lightener, and lip balm. Rub it on your perineum after giving birth! Use it to get rid of pimples! Try it as a shaving cream and to help get rid of varicose veins!

But that’s not all! Coconut oil is being promoted for its myriad health benefits too. It’s supposed to ease arthritis, help heal ear infections, aid weight loss, speed recovery from UTIs, boost circulation and hormone production, and even help those with autism.

People swear by it. They even emulsify it and use it in their coffee in place of cream. Seriously?

It used to be that we were advised to avoid coconut oil due to its high levels of saturated fat. Now we’re told that it’s actually beneficial and we can’t shovel it in or smear it on fast enough. It reminds me of Woody Allen’s Sleeper, which takes place 200 years in the future when steak, cream pies, and hot fudge are thought to be health foods.

And by the way, what’s wrong with olive oil? It’s healthy and tasty. You can spritz it, pour it, cook with it, eat it straight out of the bottle, even smother lice with it (yes, this actually works). You can use it as a moisturizer, defrizz your hair with it, and smoothe it on your feet to soften your calluses. Plus it always tastes different, depending on the country and region of origin.

So if you’re like me and you haven’t yet hopped on the coconut oil bandwagon, hold your horses. There are plenty of healthy options out there. How about a kale smoothie?

My verbal expression often includes profanity, so I was a bit taken aback several years ago when a friend of mine told me she was trying to avoid swearing. “There are better words you can use,” she told me.

Here’s the problem: Sometimes there just aren’t better words. Sometimes you just have to punctuate your statements with a rousing curse word.

I was raised by two teachers who must have heard it all. I doubt that anything that came out of my mouth shocked my parents. They occasionally used profanity, and consequently, so did I. No big deal.  When I learned Italian, I swore freely, because 1) it just didn’t carry the same weight in another language and 2) I was desperate to increase my vocabulary.

When my own kids were small, I tried to clean up my act. But they inevitably heard things, and not always from me. Is it appropriate for a three-year-old to ask for a f***ing cookie? No, but it’s not the end of the world. Their non-native speaking grandparents said “shit” so often, I think they were under the impression it was the same thing as saying “darn.”

Don’t get me wrong. I discouraged my children from using profanity outside of our home or in front of other people. But the truth is, I really didn’t give a f*ck if they swore occasionally, especially as they got older. I believe in picking your battles, and cursing was just not one of them.

Notice that I’m less inclined to swear (those timid ***!) in print. That’s because the written word is somehow different. Unlike spoken language, it doesn’t go away. An errant “f*ck” vanishes quickly when you say it, but forever remains on the page.

So if you’re inclined to swear when you speak, let it fly. I won’t mind. And by the way, saying “freaking” is the same f***ing  thing.

Spring is in the air and you know what that means: It’s time to celebrate either Passover or Easter.

Religious beliefs aside, let’s talk food, because after all, what’s more important? If you celebrate Easter, you get to eat peanut-butter filled chocolate eggs, jelly beans, and peeps. If you celebrate Passover, you get to eat a huge bowel-blocking, fat-laden meal, plus you must forego bread for a week in favor of a giant, dry, tasteless cracker. But what about matzoh balls, you ask? Sure, they’re fluffy and delicious. But consider the fact that what Jews view as a treat, other people use to treat the flu.

I like to think of the sweet, delicious treats of Easter versus the tradition of reliving a tale of slavery and suffering as an opportunity for a life lesson.

Let’s face it: Life isn’t all chocolate bunnies and cream-filled confections. It can be challenging, somber, and austere. You can’t always win and you don’t always get what you want.

In a way, the takeaway message from the Passover/Easter dichotomy relates to the suck-it-up school of parenting to which I subscribe. Stop whining and spend some time appreciating the blessings in your life. Remember that this too shall pass. Remind yourself that even though the horseradish will make your eyes water and burn your mouth, eventually you’ll get to the chocolate-covered matzoh and macaroons.

I have a friend whose mantra is: “Boys are dumb.” So what happens when they grow up? They’re still dumb (with the exception of my husband and my father, of course).

I think what my friend actually means is that boys, and later men, are often oblivious. And for some reason that really pisses women off. So I’d like to offer a word of advice to my female friends: Adjust your expectations and tell your man what you want/need.

Here’s an example: I like when my husband tells me he loves me. He, on the other hand, knows he loves me and doesn’t feel the need to say it as often as I’d like to hear it. Do I get angry that he doesn’t say those three magic words very often? I confess that I used to resent it. But I’ve developed a much more practical approach that’s so simple:
Me: You love me.
Him: Yes, I do.

There. Mission accomplished! He doesn’t have to wonder what he’s doing wrong as I stomp around the house in not-so-silent fury, because I’ve let him know what I need.

Some of you might still be annoyed because you may be operating under the delusion that you shouldn’t have to tell your man what you want him to do. He should just know. He should open his eyes, see that you’re upset or overwhelmed or in need of a compliment, and step up to the plate. Ladies, it’s time to face facts. You do have to lay it on the line, spell it out, and draw a map. If boys are dumb, it’s up to us to educate them.