Friday, October 26, 2012

This tired old mom sure does feel pretty right about now

When I got to the hotel in SF there was a Sephora gift card waiting for me. In case you don't know, Sephora is cosmetic heaven. My heart rate picks up when I look at their web page, and goes through the roof when I'm lucky enough to actually be in one of their stores. It is beautiful. And amazing. And overwhelming but in a good way. So you get the idea - I like Sephora.

Quick side note - me simply saying "I like Sephora" reminds me of this thing we used to do in college...we'd ask each other "hey, do you like beer?" Then the askee would think for a minute and say, "you know, I really do. I like beer." For some reason it cracked us up. Anyway, back to the story...

I was walking around, smiling again like a crazy person, when this lovely man asked if he could help me with anything. I told him no thank you, I'm just browsing and in heaven. He then said, "would you like me to touch up your eye makeup? It would give me something to do." Ummm....YES PLEASE!!!! What could be better? Usually at home I'm the one doing everyone's makeup, and the thought of someone doing mine sounds perfectly luxurious and faboo. So I sat down and he got to work.

The first thing he tackled were my eyebrows. Now I haven't talked about this before here, but my eyebrows are wonky. There are hairs in each one that have a mind of their own and grow in a completely different directions. The right one more than the left. It's genetic - TJ has an uber wonky left eyebrow. Anyway, as this lovely man assessed the work to be done, his expression was amazing. Like he was reading a different language and trying to figure it out. I said "I have wonky eyebrows" and he quickly agreed. Ice broken. I then asked his name - Michael.

As Michael worked his magic we chatted about San Francisco, Vermont, snow, kids, autism, and the ginormous amount of child psychiatrists in town for this conference that my sister is going to. I told him, "Michael, I really like you - you are fabulous." He said "Well you haven't seen your face yet - you may think it looks like anus." Which just made me love him even more.

I can't tell you how nice it was to sit, chat, and look like a glamour girl when I stood up. My eyes have never looked so green. It's amazing. He told me how he did what he did and gave me lots o samples to bring home to try - he totally gets me. I love him. Then I asked if I could take his picture for my blog - see below. He gave me his email and I gave him mine on the back of one of my Hot Mama O Rama business cards, which he seemed to really appreciate. This proves what a good soul Michael has. We hugged goodbye and if she's not too busy I'm bringing Susan to meet him later today after her conference.

I am overwhelmed by the amazing people I am meeting on my adventure, overwhelmed by the amazing time my sister and I are sharing, and overwhelmed by how I can't stop smiling. Not bad, right?

UPDATE!!!! My faboo new friend Michael and I have already emailed back and forth, and after reading this blog entry he has informed me that he didn't say "anus", he said "hot mess"!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! I can't stop laughing!!!!! And, I think I need to get my hearing checked.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Lauren, you're not in Vermont anymore

Hello from San Francisco!

My faboo sister Susan had her conference today so I walked her to the hotel where the conference was (Psychiatrists wear very sensible shoes) and we said goodbye until lunch. I left and found my way to that part of the city where the trolleys turn around. There was a huge line at 8:30 in the morning. Tourists. Anyway I found myself on Market street and knew that at the other end of this street is where Susan and I were having lunch. I also knew that there was supposedly good shopping around here and I had some money burning a hole in my pocket. So I started walking. It was drizzling rain but I didn't care - I love love love walking around a big city and I was as happy as can be. I think I was smiling like a complete idiot because I was getting some interesting looks.

Finally I stopped someone who looked like a local and asked them "Can you look people in the eye walking down the street here? I know in New York you can't without getting punched in the nose so I thought I should check." He looked amused and told me that San Francisco is a very friendly city. So far I concur.

My next interesting experience was this guy who was drumming on a plastic pickle tub. He wasn't very good. I glanced at him as I kept walking and he stopped drumming and yelled, very loudly, "How much do you get paid to suck dick?!?!" Then went back to drumming. I mean really!!! I kept walking and was shocked until he stopped again and yelled something else, trying to be as anti-establishment as he could be while drumming a plastic pickle tub. Somehow I felt better as he kept yelling things and decided it wasn't directed to me personally. And that's the story I'm sticking with.

Later, I found my way into Bloomingdales. I could hardly breathe it was so beautiful. I also could hardly believe the price tags. So as soon as I decided this was a browsing only stop, I saw my shoes. They were the least expensive ones there and so gorgeous that I had to have them. Erica, the sales lady and my new best friend, told me that if I go to the concierge and show him my VT drivers license (we were BFF pretty quickly) I can get a 10% visitors discount. Done! Alex the concierge was so nice (I know that's his job but still I enjoy nice people) and he told me if I spend more than $200 he had a gift for me. Well on my way out after spending WAY less than $200 I sadly told Alex that I didn't qualify for a free gift but it was so nice meeting him. He said "I'm not supposed to do this..." and slipped a pink ribbon cookie and pink rubber breast cancer awareness bracelet in my bag. So sweet!!!

Well wouldn't you know that as soon as I walked out of Bloomingdales there was a homeless man who came right up to me and said "Can I have some money? I'm hungry!" I said "I'm so sorry you're hungry - here's a pretty cookie." Then he said "No! I want money! I'm diabetic!" My reply was "Eat it when your blood sugar is low! Have a nice day!" And off I went.

On my walk back up towards the Ferry Building where I was meeting Susan for lunch, some guy decided to start walking with me. First he was small talking about the San Francisco Giants, and I nodded politely. Big mistake. Suddenly he was talking about his Uncle Joey and random sick cousins...this lasted about 7 blocks. Finally he took a left while I went straight. Free at last.

Do I attract crazy? I'm just offense to Sean.

Anyway we had a fabulous lunch and then my new best friend Coco gave us fabulous facials. And I have about 4 restaurant recommendations from those to whom I spread sunshine.

Just another day in the life.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

I didn't even freak out!

I'm writing this from 36,000 feet. I haven't been on a plane in 3 1/2 years when I flew to (1) Bogota, Colombia and (2) Nassau, Bahamas back to back. I'm on my way to San Francisco where my sister, Susan, is attending a conference. This trip is my early birthday gift from her. Hang time in a fabulous city with out the kids (no offense to the kids but you moms get it).

Here's the crazy thing about my current status of 36,000 feet - I'm not freaking out. For years I have been terrified of flying. And so far I've been calm as a cucumber (which I can't eat btw - seeds. Thanks a lot diverticulitis). No, I'm not drugged. I have no idea why I'm calm. I even took a picture from above the clouds for my boys - steady as can be. My only thought is that I'm so excited for this trip that even being flung in a tiny metal tube through the air isn't bothering me. Although actually saying that freaks me out a teeny tiny bit, so let's stop for now and just keep it at I'm doing awesome, thanks for asking.

PS: don't even get me started about the Skymall selections - I think I'm still traumatized from the combo dog bed/bedside table called the "Townhause". Seriously. It has a door. I can't even.

P.P.S. Here's what 36,000 feet above the ground looks like:

Sunday, October 21, 2012

It's Not Personal, It's Just Business

Last night Sean and I went to a Roaring 20s party. All the girls wore gorgeous flapper dresses and fabulous headbands (and one amazing Betty Boop!) - everyone looked really beautiful. The guys all were dressed as gangsters, with a couple of golfers and a zoot suit thrown in for good measure. Everyone looked absolutely amazing. Sean and I had to go against the grain, however...big surprise there. I was a gangster girl and Sean was Babe Ruth. He carried a bat, and I had a holster for my toy gun and lipstick. Actually it was a lip stain. Here's a picture:

Sean made the shirt himself.  Isn't he creative?  I wore black pointy toed stilettos that all the guys were afraid of as the shoes could inflict some serious damage if used for groin kicks.  Of course I would never do such a thing.

I realize that I often write about the difficult times I have with my not drinking, so I thought this time I'd write about a really positive experience.

I, of course, was in full character last night - speaking in a tough guy accent, randomly telling people to "Shut up!!!" - I had a blast.  And I wish I could remember who said this, but one of my friends said something like "See, this is the true Lauren.  This is why we love you.  You don't need booze at all!"

You know what?  She was right.

Maybe it's because I've had some other recent successes under my belt to look back on (college reunion was a blast too, booze free)...who knows why, exactly.  The important thing is that I really had one of the best nights I've had in a while, enjoying so many people, and I didn't miss the booze for one second.

Not even when a really funny gangster guy was yelling at me "ICE LUGE LAUREN!  NOW!!!"  The pressure was there, believe me, but a simple, persistent "no thanks" sufficed.  And I wasn't bummed at all.

I LOVE it when that happens!!!

So there you go.  I had the best time on my own terms.  A great, great night.  WAHOO!!!!

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

A Farewell to Twix

Sometimes I have things on my mind that I really want to write about, but I know a family member or friend will read it and think, "That's about ME!"  even though it's not.  I'm not in the mood for the delicate writer's dance today, so to avoid such conflict and questions, today's post will be a fond farewell to the foods I can no longer eat.

Smooth, right?  See how I did that?  No one gets upset this way.  I should be in politics (not).

Because of my diverticulitis (which, by the way, is bad for my well being but great for my waistline) I have to eat a modified diet.  Because of my TMJ (my jaw just got stuck writing this - protest?) I have to eat a modified diet too.  I'm still learning about this one....I figure out what I can't have by my stuck jaw.  This morning I've only had can my jaw get stuck from coffee?!?!  But I digress....

You would think that with these food restrictions that I would be stick thin, right?  WRONG.  Here's why - my sugar habit.  I never had it before I quit drinking, now I have it in full force.  I know it's because of the sugar that was in the alcohol and my body is missing it, blah blah blah.  Truth is I love me some chocolate - always have.  But now I have so many excuses to tell myself "I have already given up so much, I'm not giving this up too!"  The fact that it's October doesn't make this any easier, it just dangles it in front of my face and I'm not good when it comes to restraining myself.  CURSE YOU FUN SIZE CANDIES.  So basically, this is my only vice.

The world can be cruel, however.  Thanks to my fabulous health, my only vice has to be restricted.

So farewell Snickers, I truly loved you for years.  But your peanutty soul is not good for Jerry the colon.  You will be missed.

See ya later Twix.  I have fond memories of you from being a kid, when you were the new guy in town.  You are still just as fabulous in my eyes as you were when you first arrived on the scene.  But my jaw doesn't like you.  Sadly, the jaw wins (I think I have to name my jaw....maybe not....gotta think about this one).

Adios Heath Bar.  Your buttery goodness lives on in my memories.  But you are deadly for TMJ.  Your perfect unity with coffee ice cream will forever be in my heart.

$100 Grand, I knew ya when you were the $100,000 Bar.  Yes, we go back that far.  There simply are no words.  I'll smile at you as I pass you by.

Charleston Chew, I used to freeze you and whack you on the counter.  HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!  Oh my god, that's funny!!! 

I don't think I can top "I used to whack you".  Seriously.  It's good to end on a funny note anyway.  Hahaha, I used to whack you.  That's so funny!!!  I'm so mature!!!

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Adolescence Autism Style

There are many different dimensions of living in the world of autism.  One of them is observing how my beautiful boy of 12 1/2 is entering the world of adolescence.  I know it's not a smooth transition for any of these boys, but throw autism into the mix and it's a whole different story.  Imagine the confusion of growing up - now multiply it by 100 - and bingo, you've got adolescence, autism style!

One of TJ's weaknesses is a grasp of social appropriateness, or a lack thereof.  In a way it's kind of nice that he is oblivious and not stressed about looking cool all the time.  In another way, it's not kind of nice that he's the nose picker and crotch scratcher and pants hiker upper who acts like no one is watching.  We're working on this, every day.  It's hard for him to remember that there are certain things you don't do in public.  Maybe we'll get there, maybe we won't...who knows.  All I can do is keep reminding him, and hope that his peers don't hold these behaviors against him.

Another of his weaknesses is his language.  He is fully verbal, but he is a quirky talker.  I love it.  Really.  It's one of his gifts to the world, the wonderful things that come out of that kid's mouth. 

This morning, however, I didn't love it so much.

TJ has been fighting a cold.  Coughing during the day.  He was home a couple days last week and is well enough now to go to school.  He is, however, very bummed that he's well enough to go to school.


OK I have to interrupt my writing this cute, funny story.....TJ just called from school, from I don't know where.  He said to me "I quit, and I'm leaving."  Then he hung up.  I immediately called the school back and told the secretary about his call - she's alerting who needs to be alerted and I'm now sitting by the phone, waiting for an update.

Why am I writing about this?  Because this is how my life goes.  From smiling about a cute story that made me laugh, to panic stricken by the phone, waiting to hear that my precious child hasn't left school grounds and gotten lost somewhere in Essex.  I know he will be fine, as the school is wonderful, and TJ called from some populated area as I heard kids in the background.  I'm thinking positively that there is no way he could just walk out unobserved.  But this is what happens to me - this is about as true of a snapshot of my life as you can get.  Laughing to panic.  Happy to worried.  Knowing the phone will ring soon with positive news.

Ring, dammit, ring now.

Not waiting for the ring, calling the school back myself.

Now, thankfully, knowing he has not left the school.  Dissolving into tears.  Waiting now for a call from the special educator for an update on how TJ is doing.  Thanking god or whoever that he is not wandering angrily around town.  My baby is safe.

Now, having just gotten off the phone with the AMAZING special educator who is currently processing with TJ, knowing he is in good hands, I cry.  I cry for the panic that froze me solid.  The fear that this could happen again.  The feeling that sets in when a crisis is over and it's now OK to cry.  The worry for my boy and what he is going through to cause such a crazy morning.  That he still struggles with being mad....he can't just be mad, it takes over his entire being.

I am OK that he is mad at me, and OK that he is dealing with it however he needs to deal with it.

I am OK.  So is he.

Wow - what a turnaround in one post!  Welcome to my life.

Monday, October 15, 2012

My list of excuses for today

Today was SUCH a Monday.  And I don't even have a job, remember???

I haven't been to Zumba in a week and every class hurts, as I am not back up to my 3-4 classes a week routine.  Today I spent some time coming up with excuses as to why I should NOT go to my Zumba class tonight.  I seriously spent some time on it.  Here is my list:

  1. TJ has a cough.  What if he needs me?
  2. My jaw hurts.
  3. I look like an ass in my mouth guard that I  have to wear for 2 weeks because I have a degenerative TMJ thing going on and I can only take it out to eat.  Did I mention this before?
  4. Madame Bovary, my left ovary, was hurting last night.  Maybe she should be coddled?
  5. I rolled my ankle last week - it needs time, precious time.
  6. Sean's on the road - what if my car breaks down or something?  I'm screwed.
  7. What if Peter, my now 11 year old, wants some snuggle time?  I'll miss it.  That would suck.
  8. My knee.  
  9. My other knee.
  10. I'm having a good hair day - Zumba will ruin it.
  11. What if I smell?  Yes, this one was really on the list.  No one needs to smell me - no one.

All perfectly valid excuses, in my opinion.

I went anyway.  And I actually uttered the phrase, "Please pardon my crotch" out loud in class.  That has never happened before.

And hopefully, as I'm sure the other Zumba ladies will agree, I'll never utter it again.

Saturday, October 13, 2012

I'm outnumbered.

"C'mon, you hit me in the bazooka!"

"How's your banana?"

"DIE! DIE! DIE!!!"

We are hosting 3 other 10-11 year olds tonight to celebrate Peter's birthday.  They don't talk - they yell.  They yell everything.  At the top of their lungs. 

And they haven't even had their brownie sundaes yet.  I'm in big trouble.  Huge.

My friend has twin girls - their birthday is tomorrow and they are having a girls' sleepover tonight, 1 street away.  In the future, I'm sure we will have to booby-trap all the doors of this house on sleepover night to stop them from invading the girls' party.  The words "panty raid" come to mind, but I'm pretty sure they don't call it that anymore.  Plus, I hate that "p" word.  Not gonna say it if I can help it.

The boys are playing Wii while yelling, laughing, screeching, and making various sound effects that I'm sure the game creators never thought of.  It is during times like these that I think (1) I am so out of my element and Sean clearly has to take the lead on evenings such as this, and (2) don't you agree that if there is a need for late night moderation, that it should be Sean?  While I gently slumber?  I used to have slumber parties as a kid and I'm pretty sure they were NOT as loud as this.  Plus, I was an angel and if there ever was a problem, it was never me.  I'm pretty sure all this is true.

OK - back to boy land.  It's gonna be a long night.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Attention: please change my ads

Since my most recent post was published, the ads that have popped up on my screen are like this:

Cheap Sexy Shoes!

Date Asian Women!

That's when I stopped looking and decided that this post will be directed toward the type of ads I'd like to see on my blog.  Also, if anyone knows how to set Blogger Ads so that skanky ads don't show up anymore, please let me know.  Please forgive my gratuitous posting of the following:

Saks Fifth Avenue
Manolo Blahnik
Oscar de la Renta
Diane Von Furstenberg
Life Is Good!
Raising healthy children
Classic literature
Tretorns (remember those?  I'm pretty sure an ad for them won't come up but what great sneakers they were....sigh.....I miss them.....)
Broadway Show Tunes
Culture culture culture!!!!!

Thank you - that is all.

When did Halloween become trampy?

My dear friend Jennie, from Bogota, was here for one night so of course we were looking up Super Girl costumes on her computer.  Listed under the Super Girl costumes were sheer body stockings.  The girls wearing them were just wearing these body nylons, basically, and nothing else.  What were they dressed up as?  I'm not seeing a costume.  Smoke?  Steam?  Dusk?  I don't get it. Their boobs, by the way, were totally real, I'm sure of it.

Which got me to thinking - when did Halloween become trampy?  And who really wears these costumes?  Besides the college girls who wear kleenex-sized dresses, I mean.  That's a no-brainer.  But are there really "adults" who wear these costumes?  And where do they live?  I've never seen them.  I'm no wallflower - I've been to my share of parties in my time, and I have never ever seen a tramp-filled party.  Maybe I'm going to the wrong parties.  Is there like a secret trampy society out there that I don't know about?  And if so, what do the guys wear?  Socks?  And are those socks sheer too?

I realize I sound a little judgmental - I'm not trying to be.  I'm simply astounded that there is a secret underground tramp body stocking and male peen nylon wearing society out there that I never knew about.  It's bewilderment, really, not judgement.  More power to the tramps and male hos.  Really. 

One more thought though - don't they get cold?

OK - enough about that.  My final thought for today is about Contigo Coffee Travel Mugs.  Thank god for them.  If it weren't for them I would have had to change my top 3 times already today.  I'm not kidding.  3 times.  I got mad balance skills.

Saturday, October 6, 2012

Class of '92! At least we wear underwear.

This weekend is my 20th college reunion.  My neighbor and former college roommate, our other college roommate and I all went out last night.  And oh my, the times they have changed!!!

Where to begin?  Well, first of all, the group of guys we were friends with from Freshman year get together every year - they are super tight, and may I say, super nice - it's always such a pleasure to see these guys every 5 years and hang out with them and their fabulous choices of wives.  We went downtown to meet up with all of them at a bar.  Then we went to their old college apartment to hang out.

OK.....maybe I need to back up a bit.

These guys, every 5 years, go to their old downtown apartment to party during reunion weekend.  It's impressive, actually, the way they've worked this out.

I think during earlier reunions they just used to show up at the apartment with a keg and say, "we used to live here, if you let us hang out the beer is on us."  I could be wrong about that, but I'm not sure I am.  Anyway, now, apparently, they write a letter to the current residents ahead of time, asking about hanging out during reunion weekend, introducing themselves, and asking to begin correspondence.  I'm not sure if they always receive a response, but no matter, they just knock on the door during reunion weekend and see if the current residents are ready for all of us.

Now this year, I believe, is the first year that the house is occupied by females.  They were ready for all of us.  Not only were they ready, but they had planned a party.  So when we got there last night, we were allowed to walk up the front steps and enter through the front door.  Current students had to go to the back door, where there was a hired security guard with a list of who could come in and who could not.  I'm not kidding.

Another major difference is the party attire.  We all were casual - jeans, shorts, t-shirts.  They, however, wore dresses.  The girls I mean. 

Here's what I noticed through my 42 year old bias:  the girls, sweet as can be, wore barely any clothing.  The boys, also sweet but not as outwardly sweet, looked like they were 12 and some wore backpacks.  One had a "vintage" t-shirt of a Dead Tour from the 80s.  I went to one of those shows from that tour.  Moment of clarity.

Anyway, back to the attire - the girls wore pretty dresses.  Pretty small dresses.  All of them.  Every different size girl wore a pretty small dress.  The size of a Kleenex.  And I'm assuming none-derwear.

That's all I can say about that.  Other than this:  a bunch of us were hanging outside on the front porch, and those who were not at the party (other neighbors, people walking by...) were really rude.  Yelling at us, "Go home to your kids!" and things like that.  One kid from next door threw a lime at us.  Seriously.  I NEVER would have been this rude when I was their age - what's happened to these kids?  I thought of the best come backs as I was walking to my car with my girls but I'm not going to share them here as I may need them tonight.  We will probably end up at this apartment again.

I think I should send the current residents of this house a thank you basket - filled with underwear, nipple covers, aspirin and eye drops.  It could be sponsored by Commando Underwear!  They really make the best underwear - if you haven't tried it yet you really should.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

I'm a little grumpy - so?!?!

Sean has a late conference call tonight so he came home early. Here's kinda how our short time together went:

Me: "So Sean, this water bottle you put in the sink, do you want me to put it in the dishwasher, are you going to hand wash it...."

Sean: "I was going to hand wash it."

Me: "But there hasn't been time in the past 2 days to do that?"


Sean: "Right."

Soon after this we sat down to dinner.

Sean: "I'm thinking we need to paint down here."

Me: (I've been waiting 3 years for this) "So we need to paint these three walls but not that one."

Sean: "Why not that one?"

Me: "Because it leads right into the office - there's no break. You'd have to paint all the way into there."

Sean: "No, you can just paint a line down where the entrance way ends and the office starts."

Me: "Just a line down the wall?"

Sean: "Yup."

Me: "Nope."

Sean: "Not a straight line?  Just like a stop line?"

Me:  "Nope."


Sean:  "Hey Pete, guess which baseball team is in the playoffs?"

Me:  "The Skankees."  (Sean's favorite team - gag)

Sean:  "Hey Pete, guess who they beat?  The Red Sox!"  (My favorite team)

Me:  "Are you seriously starting this right now?  We are talking about the walls."

Sean: "Well, what color were you thinking?"

Me: "A light tan that goes into the kitchen, replacing all that horrible wallpaper, and a tan and white glass back splash. Then we can get a chocolate brown slipcover for the couch, blue and white pillows, and blue and white curtains."


Sean: "Tan? Really?"

Me: "A very light tan."

Sean:  "All the way into the kitchen?  You don't want to do the kitchen in a different color?"

Me:  "Well, what were you thinking?"

Sean: "I don't know, maybe butter cream?"

Me: "Yellow?!?! No. Next."

Sean: "Mossy green?"

Me: "No. Next."

Sean:  "You can decide whatever color you want, you know."

Me:  "Oh, believe me, I know."

Sean: "Do you need a costume change?"

The water bottle is still in the sink, by the way. I'm not washing it.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

It's all about your costume, baby!

Sean thinks it is endearing and super-cute when I call the clothes that football players wear "costumes".  He tells me they are called "uniforms" but I think we all know the truth.


Let's take those football players for example.  Do they walk around their every day life grunting like animals and body checking people in the grocery store who take the last box of Franken Berry?'s a distinct possibility....but most likely not.  Put them in their tight pants costume, however, and watch their inner animal be released!  It's like instant permission to act a certain way!

I used to act in plays in high school and college (isn't that a shocker???).  There was such a difference from regular rehearsals to dress rehearsals - my true character that I had been working so hard on came out fully in full costume, in a way that it just couldn't before.  And when I used to sing A Capella in college, when I was dressed up for a show, I always sang better.  Always.

See?  Costumes.

Whether you agree with me or not, we all wear costumes every day.  Yes, this is me telling you that I am right about this and if you do not agree you are wrong.  I never do that!  It feels kinda good.  A new beast may be born.  OFF TOPIC ALERT!  I'm back.

When I'm feeling dumpy, I find myself wearing my grubbiest jeans and sweatshirts.  When I was trapped like an animal in bed with diverticulitis, in pain and feeling terribly sorry for myself, I wouldn't even shower every day (see how much of myself I give to you, my faithful readers?  You're welcome.).  I looked on the outside the way I felt on the inside - terrible.

When I'm in those in-between moods where it could clearly go either way, I have complete control over which direction it goes depending on how I dress.  This includes make up.  If I am dressed in things I like and am not at least wearing mascara, I'm not standing as tall as I could be.  If I just can't pull myself out of a funk, is a little more casual and no make up.

Think I'm shallow?  Go ahead.  I'm right, you're wrong.  THIS IS FUN!!!!

Do you know when my crazy shoe obsession started?  Right after TJ was diagnosed with autism.  During the darkest time of my life, I found relief, and an exhilarating sense of joy, when I put on a pretty pair of shoes.  It was that simple, when nothing in my life was simple.  Joy was hard to come by in those days, so I created my own.  My shoe love was born.  Plus, you can gain all the weight in the world and your shoes will still fit.  And you can change moods as quickly as you can change shoes!  It's seriously one of the best things I ever did for my personal psyche. 

So there is all the proof you need - now go try it yourself.  Put a little extra time into your costume, or maybe try a new costume, and see what happens.  I'm going to do that myself.

I always did love a costume change.

BY THE WAY...if anyone from Ann Taylor or Steve Madden is reading this and would like to sponsor my costume changes, I'm very open to that. Or Prada. Or Christian Louboutin. Or....

Monday, October 1, 2012

A Quick Little Dose of Wisdom

I just had a too-quick visit with a friend when I was supposed to be running errands.  This visit, in my opinion, was a much better use of my time for a couple of reasons:  number one, because I love to see my good friends, and number two, we got into a discussion that resulted in a good catch phrase for me to remember when things get tough.

 When the head is over here:

and the heart is over here:

it's time to follow your head.

And I'm talking about your BRAIN, you dirty minded little people.

No matter what the situation is, no matter how much it hurts, if you logically know something isn't good for you, even though you may want it, follow your logic.  Your head will lead you in the right direction and you will do what is best for you in the long run.

That's it for today.  I can't give you too much wisdom or you'll all get spoiled.