We All Scream for Eye Cream

 I’ve written before on the blog about the staff at Sephora and the lift they have unwittingly provided when I have felt low or broke (or both) at varying times. Most recently I was trying to decide between various eye creams (which are please-give-me-a-whiff-of-oxygen expensive) but last a very long time and do provide a vital service. I also learned that even the tiny amount I was patting on with my ring finger (yes, I hang on their every word!) was excessive. As my Sephora counselor of the day laughed “Girl, you’ve been using enough there for four eyes!”

And so it came to pass that in order to make my decision easier, she spooned a button sized amount of the eye elixir into a tiny plastic sleeve for me to take home and sample. She also did not make me feel like I was down and out or an older woman who has to decide between make-up and you know, lentils for the week so I left the store, light and ready to begin afresh with my French eye cream that smelled very lightly of flowers. I was radiant. I was Chrissie Hynde. I was hopeful and happy. Continue reading

The Party Line

I remember reading in a psychology book, a simple but intriguing quiz in which one presents the following scenario to a friend:

You are at a party, everyone is chatting and enjoying some food and drink. For some reason, you are called away and leave the room.

What do you think that the guests are now saying about you?

I tossed this out to Frasier and Niles when they were hanging out having a beer with me in the kitchen one airless, summer evening. Niles really struggled and couldn’t come up with much. He questioned why they would be thinking anything at all and laughed that he didn’t much care anyway as he loped across to the fridge. Frasier, on the other hand, frowned and shrugged, shifting about in his chair; but when pressed, he admitted that he thought they would most likely be thinking: Hey, who brought THAT guy?

Which made us laugh. A lot.

For myself, I wondered if there might be a universal discussion as to how particularly unattractive I was.

SPOILER ALERT: Try it yourself before reading any further: what do YOU think these guests would be saying? Continue reading

February Blahs

There’s a meme depicting a vintage woman with her head in her hands and the caption reads something like, “being a woman is like having a browser with 3,000 tabs open all.the.time.”

This is so, so true. At any one time, I can be thinking about a new recipe I want to try, whether or not I have time to go to the market, that spot under the door where an ambitious wind is literally sucking the heat out of the house, a subsequent trip to the hardware store for draft edging (maybe on the way to the market?) why I haven’t called my brother(s) lately, which kind of seeds I should start for the spring, if it’s worth pursuing a skin regimen that would include coconut oil, debating whether tomorrow is the time to begin afresh with a stretching routine and some actual meditation and then throw The General off completely by asking him randomly if he also thinks (as I do) that Coco Chanel’s famous boyfriend Boy Capel as seen here, looks exactly like Harry Connick Jr. right in the middle of a post-breakfast discussion about the British Raj in subcontinent India …

I think it can be quite alarming for him. Continue reading

Merry Christmas 2017: Analysis

I took a series of writing classes many years ago now and one of the suggestions that the instructor offered up, was to consider a simple object in one’s everyday life (shoes, for example) and “stream of consciously” write about anything that came to mind. I have used this methodology many times since and it’s certainly a good kickstart to begin one’s writing day, if you are lucky enough to have that luxury.

As I was thinking about all this, I will share that this year, Niles asked for a “whizzer stick” (my own bastardizational term for an immersion blender) but in the few days since Christmas (which feel like as many years) I have felt as though someone has lowered one into my emotional core. I don’t know if I am the only one who needs to just sit and stare at the wall after Christmas but after ten solid days of cooking, cleaning, fretting and trying to pretend I don’t feel like hiding in a closet with some (decent) gin, my tranquility resources are, (in keeping with the season) in the red.  Continue reading