Living in the Land of Nod

Scent

2010-12-19T08:47:00.000-08:00

"Put it on," he said as he handed me a small bottle. "Bernadette wears it. It's fabulous!"
I was suspiciously curious. The bottle was stained dark midnight blue with a gold cap that sat half way down it's length. There was a relief of two entwined snakes on it.

"I don't understand" I said, "Why are you giving me a perfume that Bernadette wears?"

"Because I just can't get enough of it, and I certainly can't wear it!" Bernadette was wearing it this last time in New York and every time I got in the limo, I would have to get right up next to her and smell her. It's just such a haunting, sensual scent and I wanted you to wear it too."

OK, I thought. Interesting. I love perfume. I sprayed. It was at once complex and light. There was jasmine, rose, amber and musk. I was just as he'd described - haunting and sensuous.

"I love it!" I mused as I leaned in and hugged him. "Thank you!"

Bernadette says a woman should never tell another man the name of the scent she's wearing lest the man buy it for another lover. Or worse yet, for his wife." He laughed.

Niki St de Phalle. It was her name. It was the parfume. It became my only scent.

It was magical. Men would stand near me in the elevator at work and ask me what the name of my perfume was. "I can never tell," I would say with a wink as I slipped through the opened doors.

The weeks turned to years and my friend and I were as close to inseparable as two can be. We laughed, argued, he sang, I made music and we whiled away the hours sharing escapades and conspiring to be rich and possibly even famous in our own right. We thought that our lives should offer more but didn't actually try to figure out what. At least I didn't try to figure it out.

One day he announced he was leaving and then he was gone. Just out of my grasp he flew. We stayed in touch for awhile and then life got in the way as it tends to do. He busied himself with music and empire building, I busied myself building a future failed marriage and a child.

I wore the perfume every day because it reminded me of him, then it just made me miss him and our past that was so carefree. Then it made me sad that he was gone and I'd been forced to become a real adult. Then it just depressed me because, in my eyes, I was failing.

So I stopped. I tucked the parfume in a basket under the sink and made believe I'd forgotten it.

Years passed and the universe granted me an audience. "I wish I could see my friend, the one from long ago that made me laugh and allowed me to welcome the unexpected into my life.

So it did.

Last night as I waited in the lobby of his hotel I was nervous, giddy with excitement. It had been 13 years maybe more since we'd seen each other. He walked off the elevator and there he was, just as he'd left. We smiled. We hugged. We laughed. We are both older now but time has been quite favorable to us both.

We went to a nearby restaurant and began to reminisce. How is this one and that one? Do you still keep in touch with him or her? What is she doing now? Oh, he was always strange. You didn't know he was gay? Who's minding your dog? Do you have pictures?

We laughed. It felt good. It felt just like it used to.

It was time to part again. He was going on his way, I had to return to my life. We hugged. "I love you" he said. "I love you too." "You haven't changed." I laughed. "There's just more of me," I said. The valet chuckled.

I drove home and went straight to the basket under my sink. There it was. The cobalt blue bottle with the gold cap and the relief of two intertwined snakes. I sprayed. The scent had not changed.

The memories came flooding back. It made me happy. It reminded me that no matter what may be happening in my life and no matter how far away I may be from the real friends I hold dear, the love that we have in our hearts for each other just does not fade.

Thank you universe! Thank you for bringing such a happy part of my life back to me. Thank you for reminding me forever and a day that my heart will hold a place for him that will not fade. And through one scent, both complex and simple, not unlike our relationship - I can bring his presence into mine and will know that even though he's just just out of my grasp he is never out of my heart.

Happy Thoughts

2010-08-08T11:26:00.000-07:00

I was thinking today of all the things that make me smile and thought best to write them down so I don't forget them while I navigate this crazy life I live...

polka dots
pinkberry with raspberries
bright colored reading glasses
homemade pizza truffle and roasted garlic pizza
a smile from a stranger
my son's good days

bubble baths
Kathryn Hepburn/Spencer Tracy movies
a new baby
puppy breath
tucking my son into bed at night

and all the other things I'm able to do when I have time. I often think, "gee, nothing takes a lot of time to do, if you have a lot of time."

Makes perfect sense to me.

Like many people, I don't have a lot of time anymore. The older I've gotten the farther away from the things that make me happy I get. I find that I have to actually take the time to reflect on them - well, after I remember to reflect. That's what age does. It seems to push many of us away from the small things in life that make us most happy. Oh, I know family makes some of us happy, kids make some of us happy, just waking up in the morning makes some of us happy...and some not! But that's life.

Yesterday my son and I had such a fabulous day. In fact, I pondered a couple of times over the course of the day how easy it must be to be a mom when your child is making all the right choices without having to negotiate or bribe. It was probably the closest to what I imagine heaven to be like. It was more fabulous than polka dots, Spencer Tracey, bubbles or yes, even puppy breath. I wished that time would stand still and our day could last forever.

At day's end, I tucked him into bed and looked him right in the eyes and told him how wonderful it was to have been able to spend the day with him getting along, teasing, laughing, having meaningful conversation. It made me so happy to see him happy. He gave me a hug and said, 'have you seen the cat?"

Sigh. One of those memorable moment shot to hell.

Oh well, here's to pink polka dots, Spencer Tracey, my son's good days and that damn cat.

Keep smiling.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL

2010-01-01T20:59:00.001-08:00

May all your dreams come true in 2010!

xo

Jane

Living in the Land of Nod: I Could Be A Contender

2009-12-31T09:01:00.000-08:00

Living in the Land of Nod: I Could Be A Contender

I Could Be A Contender

2009-12-30T08:23:00.000-08:00

Yeah, that's right...a contender...of the homemaking kind.

I realized today - after being off work for the past week and finally having the time to clean the fridge, polish the floor and organize a couple a closets that I'd be quite an acceptable homemaker if only I didn't have to work for a living!

What a revelation. Now what to do with it?

Some say that useless information is well, useless and other will argue that no matter how random, some day all useless information comes in handy. Does MacGyver ring a bell? I mean he had to know that a zipper pull connected to a toothpick dipped in lemon juice found in the imported bricks that made up the igloo he was trapped in at the South Pole would stop an atomic bomb from detonating in Peoria. Now admit it...that would seem to be useless info if you're sitting around sipping a jazmopolitan at a pool party in LA, but for Richard Dean it was a life saver!

My point? Well, knowing what a great homemaker and stay-at-home mom I'd be when I have no choice but to work is right up there with useless info. I mean, I can give myself a pat on the back cuz I can clean out the fridge better than my last six housekeepers put together, but that's not going to put me on easy street with a fast track to the sofa and a box of bonbons...(well I have to have something to do in my nice tidy, organized home while the kids' in school, don't I?)

Although I suppose I can daydream about this wouldbecouldbeshouldbe lifestyle after I'm back on the commute train throwing a pity party for myself this time next week when the gild, as they say, is off the lily.

Oh the impending doom...speak now or forever hold your peace.

Sigh

Maybe I'll take what appears to be useless info and use it to uplift my spirit. Know that if 'only things were different' they wouldn't be what they are. So that next week when I totter back to work and by Tuesday am resorting to take out for dinner while the wash stacks up, calling my 13 year old son, 'sweety pea' - because I'm too tired to remember his real name, slide by the dining table which has ceased to offer a place to sit and enjoy a meal because it's piled high with the mail left unopened, jump into the the never ending unmade bed and glimpse the garden as I pull out of the driveway at 6am that is begging to be watered...that aside from all of that..I'm an awesome homemaker and some day willing stay-at-home mom.

Oh, I'm smiling already!

New Year Resolution - Wha?

2009-12-27T08:32:00.000-08:00

I'm not going to make a New Year resolution this year. Nope. Not me. Why? Because within the first 48 hours I will have to crown myself a loser and that doesn't seem like a good way to start the next 12 months.

I mean, inevitably I would resolve to do something like lose weight, take better care of myself, cut back at least one martini a day, write letters rather than email, take more pictures of my kid as he's growing up, quit giving in to take-out, exercise more - ok - exercise, learn more about gardening, finish all the projects I've started this year (that was last year's resolution...start a project. So I have lots of little projects sitting around unfinished - like the plant in the corner still waiting for a pot..... I guess I honored my resolution to 'do' something...just didn't resolve to finish was I started so there you go..finish what I start. hmmmm. Guess that means I have to finish this blog today.

Be nicer, more thoughtful, work longer, harder, pay more attention, laugh more, take a class, read a book, make less mistakes, laugh more, tend the garden, join a club, introduce myself to the neighbor - well, it's been six years you think I would have had some time to do that already - shop less, spend less, get green, stay green, travel, clean out the closets, enjoy staying home, take singing lessons, play an instrument, make pancakes for my son at least one Sunday a month, actually visit my friends who live in the same town instead of catching up via Facebook, create less garbage, compost, invest my money, hire a housekeeper, buy a house, take a class on investing, stop subscribing to magazines cuz they're cheap, eat less chocolate, chicken, beef, eat more vegetables from the garden perhaps? Keep the blog updated, take down the tree before April. Whew! I'm already exhausted.

Sigh.

I could so go on. But what's the point. I've lost before I've started. Or have I?

Maybe I should choose something as a resolution that I already do. Try tricking the universe and my soul into believing that all is not lost on me. I can be redeemed at least for the next 12 months.

hmmm.

Drink more, work less, spend more time on Facebook, Twitter, email, Linked In, pay less attention, make more mistakes - someone will catch them anyway before they get to the client, indulge in more take out...less dishwashing, take my son out to IHOP, accept that I am a renaissance women, enjoy the half finished, sweater, scarf, quilt, napkins, silver chain, wax mold, pair of earrings, drip irrigation system, greenhouse, potting shed, garden, painted room, forget getting to know the neighbor - unless they have a Facebook account I won't visit a second time, the investment class, or travel. In fact, I'll be saving money by not doing any of those things and that can be counted as an investment! Live life through the cheap magazines - home improvement, landscaping, fashion, etc. Keep my current exercise regime - let's face it, from the couch to the refrigerator 10 times an evening is better than nothing. Stuff one more sale item into the already over-burdened closet. I'm sure when I need it I'll be able to remember where I put it before I go out and buy another!

Hey! I'm feeling better already!

So here's my New Year resolution -- I'm going to accept that I am human and no matter how resolute I am I will can count on one thing and one thing only...and that is that I will not keep my resolution.

Woo hoo! Happy New Year to me!!!!!!!

What is your New Year Resolution?

Savor the Moments

2009-12-12T06:00:00.000-08:00

Face it, life can be tough sometimes.   And anyone that disagrees with me isn’t living.   It goes by too fast. It’s overwhelming at times. It can be frustrating. It’s expensive, sometimes unfriendly and, unless you’re living in a closet, it’s an obstacle course of emotion. Day-in and day-out.   Boring?    Sometimes. Magical? Always.

Stop. Look around you. Listen. Accept. It’s there. Happiness. Moments that you must learn to recognize. These are the moments in life that make up the memories that can carry you through when the going gets tough…for the rest of your life.   Savor them. Taste them. Take them into your soul.

Have you ever heard a sound, caught a scent from your childhood, heard a phrase that brought someone from long ago into your thoughts, eaten something that tasted familiar? These are all ‘memories’ that reside in your body, your heart, your soul. When they visit, welcome them. Savor them. Feel the security, happiness, silliness, comfort that they bring to you.

Look to yourself for moments to savor. There are plenty of self-made moments. Maybe you’ve accomplished something in your own life that is worthy of a bit of self-congratulations, a pat on the back, a moment to breath in. Maybe it’s a new love or a particularly fetching glimpse of yourself in the morning mirror as you head out the door to face a cranky world.

Good news from friends warms me. I savor these moments and let someone else’s joy sink in. I shut my eyes, smile and let it start at my toes, up to the top of my head. I smile. It’s filling. It’s good.

Over the past several weeks I’ve heard much good news from near and far and I have to say that I have savored each and every one of them.

One friend called to say that after months of trying she and her husband are pregnant. The bundle of joy is due to arrive in November. Their lives will change forever in a way that no one can explain and they can’t begin to imagine. I feel joy for them. When I heard the news, I shut my eyes, thanked the universe for their blessing and savored that moment.

Another friend of mine who I’ve known for years called a couple of days later to say that she’d landed a terrific position teaching at a college here in So. Cal. When she told me she was being considered for this position, I knew she had to get it - there just wasn’t any other outcome. And yes, I shut my eyes and smiled when she told me it was hers. She’s going to do an amazing job teaching and I think each and every one of the students in her class are blessed to be taught by her. They just don’t know how lucky they are – yet.

This past week I learned that a co-worker of mine had been promoted to a terrific job that will take him from Phoenix to Atlanta, Georgia. His voice on the phone was filled with excitement as he explained that he and his wife were sitting in the car, in Atlanta, outside the 20th house they’d looked at that weekend. All was happening so quickly. He was giddy with excitement at the turn his life’s journey has taken him. His wife and three boys are right along with him in his excitement. I savored that moment. He’s deserving of this good fortune.

Photos emailed to me of another friend’s new baby girl came at just the right moment. All the frustration I was feeling toward a project I was working on melted away. I took the joy in that she must have felt when this cutie arrived. It changed the whole course of my day.

One of my dearest friends – after a long period of lack in her life – has blossomed in her work. It makes my heart sing when I hear her voice, full of happiness, on the other end of the phone, telling me that she’s ‘so busy!.”   It just doesn’t get any better than this.

And while my friends’ good fortune can conjure up the warmest of feelings, my son brings me moments that I’m sure all parents savor with their own kids in their own ways…

My son told me last night that I “absolutely MUST come” to his international dance show this morning at school. His earnestness and excitement, along with the promise that he would ‘actually dance this time,’ made me smile. Big.   Then I laughed. And then I told him that there is nowhere else in the world that I’d rather be than at his dance festival in the morning. He won’t dance. I know that. But I will savor the moment that he asked me to be there, and I will savor the moment when he runs up to me, after the dance, and asks, “didn’t I do just great, mom!?“ Even though he just stood like a statue and stared at the crowd, I will say, ‘you did great.’

I will savor that moment for the rest of my life.

Oh For Crying Out Loud! Where Is Your Brain, Jane?

2009-12-10T19:49:00.000-08:00

So smarty pants that I am drove over to the closest big box store to buy some white ribbon today. Well, let me just cut to the chase and admit - quite sheepishly - that I did not actually return with any white ribbon. In fact, I returned with no ribbon. But I do have some gloves for my son.

But then, that's not the reason I post tonight. Oh no.

Once back from my debacle of a shopping expedition I spied a parking spot right next to the elevator in our office parking structure. It's rarely every empty so I grabbed it thinking I'd make a swift departure at the end of the day.

Come quitin' time, I gather my belongings and headed to the parking lot. 3rd Floor. However I walked right past my car and to the area where I always park. No car. 'Oh, yeah, right," I thought to myself. "I'm on the 4th floor." So up to the 4th floor I walk and search for my car. Not there.

Back to three. It's not there. Down to two. Not there. I knew it wasn't on one. So back up to three. Now...I'm taking the stairs up and down to each floor and walking RIGHT PAST MY CAR.

It was now 15 minutes and counting.

Finally I decided to take the elevator from the 3rd floor back to the bottom and start over. While waiting for the elevator I spied my car.

Rolling eyes. Shaking head. So much for the quick getaway!

Multitasker or Mental Disaster?

2009-12-09T05:35:00.000-08:00

No time like the end of the year to pull up an old post and be reminded that sometimes you just have to say 'no.' But those times for me are few and far between. And considering that I've got another two week vacation coming up which is already booked with doctor and dental appts, painting the living room and hallway, shopping for a rug for the new room, haircut, botox and the after holiday sales -- I'll be begging to go back to work just to put my feet up and get some rest. Maybe time to think about a New Year's resolution? ..... nah.

I've always likened myself to the women I read about in magazines that seems to do it all. No amount of burden is too much to carry on their back or stall the 24 hour clock. Well, that is until this past week. For some reason a light went on and I started questioning my real abilities in this arena. Let me try to start at the beginning (which seems to be the essence of my folly today)...

I am on the last day of my nine day vacation. I know...I said I'd start at the beginning, but stay with me, it'll all makes sense sooner or later. In the past eight days, I have done pretty much nothing but prepare for my vacation. That and well, take on more than I could chew which overwhelmed me so I sat staring at my own life flashing before my eyes in slow motion on more than one occasion this past week.

Example numero uno. I don't know why, but I booked Dr. appts and shuttle rides to the ex's house to drop off the kinder on the other side of the hill almost every day. That's approximately 23 miles EACH WAY. By Thursday I was thinking to myself, 'what was a I thinking?!' I drive that route every day when I'm working. Could I not stay to the South for just a couple of days? Sort of defeated the purpose of getting away from traffic. On one of those trips I thought I'd drop into the largest membership store this side of the Mississippi - the day before July 4th! - just to pick up a box of blueberries that I'd seen at a friend's house a couple days before. "Why I'll grab some of those on the cheap, make some blueberry jam," when I'm not on the road of course. So after the twenty minutes it took to find a parking space, I realize I didn't have my membership card with me, so I stood in line for another ten minutes at customer service then went back outside to find a cart, and then back in line to get back inside. I'd been there just under an hour. And no, I had not even gotten my berries yet. Inside the cooler, I was overwhelmed at ALL THE OTHER BERRIES that this oversized membership store was offering that day. So I bought raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, and of course, the blue berries. Why I'll make lots of jam! Why? BECAUSE I HAVE SO MUCH TIME!

Another 20 minutes to make my way to the check out, 15 minutes in check out, 10 to get out of the parking lot and I was headed back South. All in all the round trip only took three hours. But hey, I was on VACATION. Once home, I discovered that I really didn't have the jars and all that good stuff that is critical to making jam. My recipe books were loaned out, my kettle was in storage. But that didn't matter...why I had plenty of time to go back to the local grocery -- with the too small parking lot the day before the 4th of July -- and buy jars. Of course I hadn't seen a recipe so had no idea what sized jars I needed. I figured if I bought them all I'd have the right ones . Another hour gone. By the time I got home it was almost 3:00 in the afternoon. No worries, my dinner reservations weren't until 8pm which meant that I needed to stop and get ready by 6pm which meant that I really had just three hours to make a helluva lot of jam.

But wait, there's more! While fishing out the only book I didn't loan out - not because it's the best, but exactly the opposite, I found that I was missing another key ingredient, so what did I do? I started making berry syrup. Don't laugh. Everyone needs berry syrup. It sounded like a good idea at the time - handmade vanilla ice cream topped with fresh handmade berry syrup. Never mind that I don't have any ice cream on hand - BUT WOULD HAVE TO MAKE IT! Oh well, I started the berry syrup. Raspberry. The other berries could wait.

Example #2. The next morning, I realize that I'd paid no attention to the quilt I'm making. Not that I ever wanted to actually make a quilt, it was just that I was in the sewing center to buy a foot for my sewing machine and stacks of pre-cut fabric caught my eye. So $50 later, I was out the door with five stacks of the aforementioned pre-cut fabric. Never mind that I didn't have the backing fabric, center stuffing or top stitching thread or the foot for my sewing machine. I was going to make a quilt! Which brings me to

Example #3

Working on the quilt. Hmmm. Well, that sounded like a terrific idea, but I had jam to make. So I started that process again, only to realized as I was reducing my blackberry syrup that I needed to take back some silk climbing rose vines I'd purchased for another project too lame to mention here. I'd bought them on a whim - what's new you're thinking right now, aren't you - and when I arrived home found that there were so many roses and leaves missing that they almost could have passed for something I would have actually grown myself. Not exactly the look I was going for. So there I was with a dilemma - start the blackberry preserves or take back the vines. I did both. I started the preserves and then turned them off half way through so I could jump in the car and take the vines back - 12 miles away! The store clerks were very generous in time and effort and offered to fill the sickly vines out with new sprays of flowers. So out came the glue guns and off they went. That's terrific I thought, I'll just walk around while I wait. Which brings me to

Example #4

The fabric store next door to the silk florist which looked like a great place to squander the next 30 or so minutes. So I poked my head in and asked, 'do you have patterns?" "But of course," said a nice young woman with red white and blue hair. "Over by the window." I made my way through the rows and rounds of gorgeous cotton fabrics to a small table with two pattern books. No matter that I hadn't heard of one company and the other was one that I'd never even thought of sewing from. So of course I sat down, looked through and bought a pattern. Then I chose not one, but two fabrics, none of which were my first choice - I still don't know why - and then made my way home. My quilt was still waiting, the berries were still waiting, the rose vines were still in the back seat.

So I called my friend. "I think there's something wrong with me," I said.

"What now," she laughed.

"I swear, I can go out to buy a blue ball and come back with a polka dot pony"

"So make a list," she says, stil laughing.

"I do make a list. It doesn't matter. The polka dot pony always looks like the better deal. Even though I know I don't need a pony. I know I need a blue ball, but I always get the polka dot...." my voice started trailing off.

" I think I'm ADHD."

"Well," she said STILL laughing. "I guess it's a possibility."

I'm guessing that after the 18 plus years we've known each other that this might be something she's held back. She probably knew all along. I think the big giveaway was when I bough her the home beekeeping kit for her birthday one year. I'd started out to surprise her with a fabulous Prada knapsack, but beekeeping has always intrigued me and this kit came with all the bells and whistles, including the bees. She was stunned.

But then again, maybe it's ok she hasn't told me I was off my rocker and needed to be medicated. Probably a good idea since I wouldn't have bought the idea until now.

Why even this morning, I got out of bed, started to make coffee, but thought I'd check on the garden. Once there, I pulled out my moisture meter and made rounds, then thought, "Oh, I should water those pots over there, under the tree," but as I walked past the roses I felt an urge to do a bit of pruning, so I wandered back to the greenhouse for the pruners, then stopped to water the tomatoes in another bed that looked wilted, started back to the roses, but saw that there were suckers on my peach tree, stopped to cut those off, felt hungry for some of my left over suckling pig from my dinner out on Friday, went back into the house for a bite, saw my coffee cup still sitting empty, went back out to the garden, pruned the roses, left the cuttings sitting on the ground, because I thought maybe a piece of toast with fresh blackberry preserves would go great with my now cold cup of coffee, and then on my way to get out the toaster thought I should write this post.

In a nutshell, the water is running, there are cuttings all over the yard, berries to be made into jam, a cold cup of coffee on the counter, the toaster is out, there's a quilt that is half finished on the back of the sofa (OK, I confess, even in it's half finished state I used it last night), a bag of new fabric under my chair, a half eaten left over in the fridge, silk rose vines in the back seat of my car, and I'm glancing over at my list of things to do today, which don't include any of the above. In fact, I need to run to the Sur La Table and see what I can buy with my $300 gift card I got as a rebate on the expensive ice cream machine that I 'just had to buy' because my old machine - although it worked great - just wasn't doing it for me anymore. And yes, I do make at ice cream at least once a year, so it was a thoughtful purchase. NOT! I'm thinking I need a panini maker because we're going to have the salmon that I bought while I was at the biggest membership store getting berries and I need a cedar plank. OK...so.....

Multi-tasker or Mental Disaster? You be the judge.

Waist Alert

2009-12-06T14:26:00.000-08:00

Mission accomplished. Even the snowmen around here were jumping for joy.

YUM.

Cookies!

2009-12-06T09:00:00.000-08:00

OK. today I'm going to try and make some Christmas cookies. I can't eat any of them, but I can give them away. Shortbreads with chocolate and peppermint. I'll let you know how they turn out!

I Was So Looking Forward to Rain

2009-12-06T08:30:00.000-08:00

Damn, Damn, Damn. I know this'll sound funny to many, but I was so disappointed to wake up to sunshine again this morning. For crying out loud will someone have a talk with Mother Nature and tell her it's December for godsake. It's OK that the sun does not shine 500 days a year. In fact, I think the only time it doesn't shine here in Los Angeles is when there's been a smog buildup. (it's a fallacy that we really have actual blue skies)

I even stayed up late last night anticipating the sound of raindrops on the window to lull me into slumber. By 2am I gave up. "It'll start the minute I shut my eyes, I"ll bet," that's what I thought anyway as I dropped off.

We'll it didn't. So now I'll have to operate on half sleep today.

I wanna be a weather man here. Every forecast is 'sunny' unless there's a chance of rain, which means nothing really, does it? I mean we all have a chance of being hit by a bus. No one blames the weatherman if he's wrong. We all never believed him in the first place.

Better yet, when some rain actually does fall from the sky they call it STORM WATCH. I wonder if any of them here have ever really actually witnessed a storm. Maybe, maybe not. We have a weather man called Dallas Raines though, I'll bet he's seen a storm. Hmmm. there's something to think about today.

Merry Christmas

2009-12-05T13:41:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning and thought, "what a great day to buy a Christmas tree!" It's overcast (not something we see too often here in Los Angeles), it was cold and well, it just felt like the day to go out and spend a lot of money for a tree that would basically look like crap on Christmas morning. A fire hazard really. In fact we usually end up taking the tree down the day after Christmas. Kinda sad. Kind of a pain in the ass.

We started out at our local neighborhood grocery store. Support the local businesses. But alas, they truly had about 20 trees and none of them were what I was visualizing in my livingroom for the next three weeks. Much to the chagrin of my better half, we moved on.

We headed to the second lot. One we've had good luck at in the past. However, even though we are very early this year, the choices were few and far between. We left.

On we went to a third, then a fourth, then a 5th. My better half suggested we get a fake tree. I balked. Over my dead body, I thought. I'm from Oregon. We don't do fake trees.

We marched on. Six, seven, eight. It was beginning to look as if all the lots were filled with haphazardly homely trees that already looked liked they'd seen the season.

Our last stop again proved fruitless. If the trees on this lot didn't look like someone had chopped 'em into submission to look like a Christmas tree, they were far too big around the base to fit in our small corner of the living room. If we purchased a $100 tree and then had to 'trim it into place'...well that's money on the floor.

Not looking good.

I looked at my better half. I was beaten down. I didn't want to make finding a Christmas tree my new career and I could tell my partner was losing patience with my insistence that the tree resemble one out of a fairytale.

"We're goin' fake."

Our first stop was a big box store with an overinflated idea of what a artificial, OK - fake, tree should cost. These were priced like a mortgage payment. I wasn't convinced I was going to like this idea overall so I wasn't going to drop the price of a Prada bag on one of these suckers.

It was not looking good.

We ducked into a Target and it was suddenly starting to look alot like Christmas.

A sale. 50% off. I'm all about the sales this year. Although I don't seem to take into account that 50% of well, $400 is still well, $200. Not what I had intended on spending that for an accessory that would dominate my living room for only the next three weeks and then be gone until next year. It's a tree for god sake and it's well, dead, er fake. But it looked so damn real! And it was prelighted!

I pushed all the sugarplums dancing around in my head to the side and made room for a bit of reality. This lovely fake icon of Christmas will last me for at least the next five years, maybe more depending on how well it's stored. There are no pine needles to find in my carpet in July, no tree stand to trip over, no plastic water pan to fill that inevitably has a hole in it so water lays on the hardwood floors until the tree skirt soaks it up. (Now there's something to look for under the tree.) And then well, there's the fact that the tree always looks like crap by Christmas morning. Fire hazard. Take down and haul away and well, that tree in front of me was looking pretty real.

My heart started pounding while we looked for 'box 29' for spanking new 7' tall cashmere pine tree, pre-lit and fake! fake! fake! fake! 19, 22, 17, 12, 09, 17, 28, 30, 31. No 29. You're kidding me. I'm so close. I may lose this moment if there's no 29. Where's box 29?! 14, 24, 36, 26. One last isle. 07, 13, 29. 29! Two left. One's mine! It's mine! It's mine!

I guarded the box like it was gold while my better half fetched a cart. It would just be my luck that a horde of people looking for just that tree would be let off a bus setting off a bidding war for this perfect specimen of a fakeness. Some would say that's looking at the glass half full, I would say it's another example of why I should be taking a tranquilizer.

I'd finally turned the corner and joined all those I 'poo poo'd' as far back as I can remember and dammit, no one was going to take that moment away from me.

I was now the proud owner of a perfectly fake Christmas tree.

I grabbed new ornaments, a fake garland for the hearth - in for a penny, in for a pound - and drove home to put it all together. In less than 20 minutes I had a beautiful tree, lit up and ready to decorate. Now, to be honest, I know it's fake so of course to me it looks like I brought home one of those trees you see in the department stores this time of year. But after layering on my cherished ornaments some going back to the 20s and 30s, I was totally buying into the illusion.

So the sun has set, the lights are brighter on the tree and I'm sitting back with my hot toddy and a nosh thinking about the night before Christmas and how fabulous the tree will look as it floats upon a pile of gifts for my family and friends. The tree may be fake but there's nothing at all fake about the love and joy I intend to spread around this year.

Oh, the pine scent? Will I miss it? Of course not! I bought a pine scented candle.

It definitely looks a lot like Christmas!

Picnic on a Moonbeam

2009-12-04T11:44:00.000-08:00

Ok, sometimes the world is full of syncronicity. I wrote this little poem way back in the 80s -- no real reason why - it just flowed out of me one afternoon. Years later I employed an amazing artist I'd met to illustrate the poem for a children's book. She got four pages in and flaked off to some island off the coast of Washington never to be heard from again. Although grapevine rumour confirms that she's become a very successful and well paid artist. I only wish I could say "I saw her first"....but well, life isn't like that we can't put 'dibs' on people talent.

The second incarnation was as my wedding invitation. And well, let's keep it short by saying that those were awfully over the top. I took the idea of layering to the extreme and then put it all in a gold box. LOL Aw, we're funny when we're young.

And now, my dearest, most wonderful friend in the whole world - who I miss terribly btw, just in case he's actually reading this - reminded me of it on Facebook this past week. I thought I'd enter it here so that not only he could enjoy it again but anyone else who perchance might trip over this blog will find the magic in it that we always have.

Picnic on a Moonbeam

No need to fret

The table's all set

and nothing else is needed

but a goodnight kiss

in the evening mist, and you

we can be seated.

We'll picnic on a moonbeam

swing high among the stars

grab the golden ring from Saturn

jumprope off to Mars

The band will play

while we swing and sway
along the Milkey way

Let faeries whirl and

angels twirl us

toward a brand new day.

sigh

I'm Late, I'm Late, For A Very Important Date?

2009-08-07T11:47:00.000-07:00

Question. When it is appropriate for the bride to be over an hour late to her wedding?

Rushing around to get my ducks in a row to drive down to San Diego for a 4pm wedding was how I started my morning last Saturday. Knowing I'd be surrounded by slight, gorgeous twenting-somethings, it made sense to color the hair, polish the toes and make sure the mustache was waxed. We are talkin' e.f.f.o.r.t. toward getting ready. Hop in the car early with my man and head south, thinkng we'd get a bite to eat within a relatively short time...like before the engine was warm. That ship sunk when I said I wanted a 'really good' burger. I was thinking In N Out, the man had something totally different in mind..and it was 70 miles later.

After a little food and some aspirin, the headache subsided and we were on the road again in horrible traffic. Doesn't anyone stay home anymore?!

We arrived in San Diego with about 20 minutes to spare before the bride walked down the isle.
"Where's the ceremony taking place," I asked.
"In Balboa Park."
Oh, I thought. great. Good think I wore the Prada pumps. The heels will be so enhance with the mud punched up from a wet park lawn.
He handed me the invite. It read, 'in the chapel across from the Museum of Man' Ok. Pumps saved.
We drove through the park, accidently found our destination, but there was no parking.
Did my man drop me off and head out to find pariking? Oh No...are you day dreaming!!! We drove across a bridge, out of the park and back into the city. There he found a 'nice' parking spot. What was nice about it, I couldn't say. All I could think was, "what the fuck!" I'm going to walk a half a mile back across that bridge to the chapel across from the Museum of Man in my Prada heels! These are not walking shoes! Hello???
But in an effort to not find my self heading do divorce court and not a wedding, I clammed up and started walking.

We arrived at the chapel with just five minutes to spare. We were stopped at the front door by a lovely woman who informed us in her sing song voice, that the bridal party had not yet arrived. "If you wouldn't mind waiting outside," she said. "The chapel is rather hot." Oh. OK. Well, there you go. I caught my breath while I looked around for somewhere to sit. Nothing. Not even a park bench.
"Stand over here, sweetheart, there's a breeze!" my husband offered.
Yes, dear, there's a breeze here alright but it's got a distinct smell of piss" Possibly you should get out of the city more and smell some fresh air."
We moved. We stood. I looked at my husband and said, 'you realize this wedding isn't going to start until at least 4:30, maybe even 4:45.
"Why do you think that? he asked me very suspiciously.
"Well, I said, "none of the bridal party is here yet, and there don't seem to be any other guests here but us. "

Knowing that we had to be at another commitment at 6:30 that same night about 70 miles North was not helping the situation.

About that time, the unidentified woman said we could head into the chapel. Down the stairs we went. Entered a very very small chapel, with five rows of wooden benches with no backs. We sat. Others started trailing in. No one was recognizable. It was now close to 4:20. At 4:25 a priest came in and asked if we all knew what wedding we were at.
Was this a trick question?
The clock ticked, the sweat poured off the brows of many and then in walked 'that girl.' I mean she had legs up to her ears and was wearing what I would definitely categorize as a top. I think she'd assessorized with a pair of six-inch heels - and maybe some perfume. That girl sashayed into the chapel like nobody's business. Every guy in the place banged heads just trying to get a look. Pathetic. How dare she show up the bride..

oh, speaking of who...had still not arrived.

I looked at my husband at 4:45 and said, "we can't leave once the bride is standing in the doorway."
He agreed we should leave so our later committment wasn't spoiled. So dragged my sweat soaked body back up the stairs in my Prada heels (really, not a walking shoe) and we made it almost across the high bridge when there came the bride and her party. Whoopin and honkin' on their way to the church.
My husband looked at me with 'that look,' and I simply said, 'not in a million years...'

And so it goes. We drove off into what would soon be a glorious sunset along the beautiful California coast. Still full from the great burger hours before we made our way to our next destination. I just couldn't shake from my mind however the image of the bride and the girl with the short skirt wrestling for the attention of so few as the night drifted by.

Twilight Sleep

2009-06-28T07:25:00.000-07:00

You know that time of the morning, just before the alarm goes off, when your awake, sorta? I love that part of the morning. Thoughts and images from the past, the present and future swirling inside my head. Here are mine from this morning:

Kenny, GTO, lots of hair, black light, Bill, rice pot, rice krispies, milk, painting, learning to drive, large pocket doors, porche, tennis, big bird, Saudi Prince, penthouse, the one that got away.

Sounds kinda nutty, kinda crazy, kinda whatthehelldidyoutakebeforeyouwentobedlastnight -- but it actually all makes sense. Stay tuned....

The List

2009-06-01T19:38:00.000-07:00

A wise man once said to me, "Dating is nothing more than a job interview that you wear a short skirt to."

Let's face it. It use to be that dating was the prelude to a marriage proposal. Not anymore. While we may take on the burdensome task of hoping to find a partner that has all the bells and whistles, in the back of our little pea brains what we're really hoping to find is our soulmate. Soulmate? Are you kidding me?! Who on earth put that psycho-babble buzzword into your head? Yes? I'm listening...

You're a smart girl - or at least were until you started dating 'Mr. Right.'

"He's my soulmate," you coo, your eyes moist and dewy, still reflecting the pleasure of your last kiss. "Why he's so romantic he knows just what I'm thinking and feeling and has all the same dreams that I do."

Wake up, Sista - wake the hell up! Listen up and listen up good -- Fact Numero Uno...there are no soulmates, no 'perfect husband material' no 'but he finishes my sentences,' no romantics, no geniuses - in or out of bed. No! Nada! Zilch! Zero! No!

NO! NO! NO!

Whew! That felt good...

In fact, you're the only one who thinks that. Your girlfriends know better. They've got the facts. They look from afar, unemotional, unattached, unattracted to and uninvolved with (well sometimes) your amour. They know that he's none of the things your heart is telling you he is. But they don't tell you. Why? Because it just doesn't feel right bursting your fuzzy cocoon of an emotional happy bubble.

Really? When was the last time you actually met a guy, any guy, that had even the slightest glimpse of any of the qualities on your check list? You know what I'm talking about. We all have one. Here, does this look vaguely familiar?

The List:

Handsome

Ivy league educated

Romantic

Funny

Never Been Married

Wants to get married (to me!)

Not gay

Beautiful eyes

Nice Hands

Good in bed (only with me!)

Makes lots and lots of money

Faithful

Gives great back rubs

Loves animals

Eats Sushi

No bad habits

Puts down the toilet seat

Retrainable (If he has any habits I don't like)

Takes me to the ballet

Loves to travel

Did I say wants to get married (to me!)

So there I was on a Friday night getting dressed for a date with a new man. I found myself repeating the above referenced list over and over in my head. The doorbell rang. But the minute I opened the door and laid eyes on that handsome hunk of man-o-man standing right there in front of me just an arms length away..whoosh...I heard my list fly right past me. Yup, damn thing pushed me over as it slipped by me and 'Mr. Right NOW' and on out into the night.

The next day I couldn't wait to share the details of my romantic interlude with my gal pal, Trudi. I knew she'd cheer me on, she always does. "You go, girl!" she sings. In fact, our conversation the next day probably went something like this:

brring brring

Helllloooooooo

Sigh.

Hello?

Sigh

Who is this?!

It's me, the luckiest girl in the world...

Silence

What's the matter, you sound out of breath

No, no. I'm fine. I've just returned home from the best date I've ever had in my life.

But it's two o'clock in the afternoon!

I know. Isn't it wonderful?

Sounds like your date went well.

It went better than well...it went beyond great! We met for cocktails, he invited me to stay for dinner, then a nightcap at his place. We talked and talked and talked and talked all night. We just couldn't bear to part. Sigh

Oh, sounds fun. Now where'd you meet this guy, again?

At Fudgie's birthday party. Sigh

Oh. Yeah. Right. And what did you say he does for a living?

Well, he's a little down on his luck right now. Been trying to get a job for the past year and a half. His therapist says that his depression is really only temporary so the panic attacks will probably go away soon -- well, at least as soon as he finds a job. He's got two kids who live with their mom upstate. He's ok with that except for the time his son was caught having an affair with his third grade teacher, and his daughter applied to a college in Guataumala. Otherwise, they've faired pretty well with the divorce and all...oh, well, with the pending divorce. He hasn't really filed the paperwork yet because he's afraid his wife will get too upset and apparently she's pretty ugly when she gets upset. But he's sure it'll all work out -- eventually. I told him that I'd help him organize his paperwork right after we find him a new apartment. He's got a really loose cannon roommate right now. It's some chick. I didn't get the whole story. But anyway, he wants to see me again tonight so I told him I'd treat him to a nice dinner at Chez Tout, you know, cheer him up. Oh, did I tell you how absolutely dreamy this guys is?

Why yes, several times. I'm so happy for you. Sounds like you've met a great guy! Someone you can finally talk to. He sounds NOTHING like that heel, Randall, you used to date. And handsome, too. Wow. Score! Can't wait to meet him. He sounds perfect for you. Don't keep him a stranger, now. Let's get together soon so I can look him over and give my blessing.

But what Trudi was really thinking is this:

What the hell!?? My dear dear sweet stupid friend has done it again. Where is her brain? Why she's actually going to be sleeping with a bona fide bozo and she doesn't have the slightest idea that she should be running as fast as she can in the opposite direction. Is she completely blind?! This loser is going to piss on her parade, bleed her bank account dry, and break her poor, pitiful cookies and milk heart. What the hell happened to her list?! WHERE IS THAT STINKIN' LIST! I've gone over and over and over that damn thing with her a hundred and one times. Damn! I just don't have the time right now to re-evaluate this friendship - again. Sigh. Oh well, I'm not going to tell her the truth todaY. She's had a rough week at work with the new boss and all. Besides, I've got a nail appointment and she sounds so happy. SHE'LL FIND OUT SOON ENOUGH.

Huh? Soon enough..Whaddiayamean 'soon enough?

Oh yeah that golden nano second that the offending beast in no longer around. Then the flood gates will open. No judgement is too small to share with the heartbroken.

Sobbing in a heap on the floor you learn from your friends that he was too fat, too thin, too lazy, too uneducated and underemployed or underpaid for you. Why, he should be embarrassed just getting up out of bed each morning. He contributes nothing to the human race. In fact, he brings the curve of human decency down to the bargain basement level. He's nothing but a walking bucket of crap taking up nothing but space on this planet. His grooming left much to be desired. He was really married, really gay or had hit on every one of your closest pals at your Aunt Martha's funeral -- and he hadn't even had a beer yet! He dressed funny, smelled funny and never had a sense of humor that you deserve in a man.

You deserve better. You always deserve better.

Dorothy, We're Not in Berlin Anymore

2009-03-18T21:05:00.000-07:00

Some friends appear in your life and then disappear, never to be heard from again. I've had several of these... odd birds. But the most memorable is a woman named Ingrid.

Ingrid was married to a client of mine, a very popular rock n' roll star. He'd met her on tour in Europe. She was a Vogue model and had been on the cover of the German edition several times. Back then as now, rock stars always seem to hook up with models. It's like a must have accessory or something.

Ingrid didn't speak much English and would repeat anything said to her without knowing what it mean. In fact, she would often make up her own pronunciation of many words sending those around her into fits of laughter. It was this trait alone, I believe, why Mr. Rock n Roll married her: he thrived on being a prankster. She was so beautiful she was almost homely. Dress so far ahead of fashion that I believe we're still trying to catch up with her. In short, Inrid was what I called 'high maintenance' on every level. And - she had no girlfriends.

Our first meeting was at a large rehearsal staging area in Hollywood. Ingrid's husband was debuting a new band in front of every major record label decision maker in the business. The buzz on the new band was tremendous. The crowd was a virtual 'who's who' of the music industry. Many of them my clients.

Ingrid was seated just about in the center of the crowd. She motioned me over to an empty seat next to her. As the room quieted down and the lights started to dim, Ingrid suddenly stood up waiving her arms and shouting at the top of her lungs;

"Vait! Vait!"

The room dropped into silence. Complete silence.

Not a soul moved.

"Vee need a schpotlight here." "I vant to show my new girlfriend Jane, sumting"

Huh? Your what? Did you say girlfriend? Wait a minute. I don't recall feeling that spark, that unspoken acknowledgment that we were going to be friends when we first met. And what the hell do you want to show me that takes a spotlight?!

The thought had not finished in my head when there we were, just the two of us, bathed in the brightest damn light you can imagine. Without a second to spare, my question was answered. She grabbed her purse and dumped the entire contents of it into her lap!

"Look here," she said in her very soft voice with a very heavy German accent.

I admit I was afraid to look.

"Since I've decide vee ahr going to be friends, I vant you to see vhat is inside my purse."

Huh?, I thought. Inside your what?! Is this a German thing? You mean to tell me that all eyes in this room are on us, my career is ruined and you're showing me your lipstick, hairspray, nail polish kit, floss, birth control pills, mouthwash, English/German dictnionary, credit cards, photos of family back home (who, by this time I was sure had relocated to Peru) and the remains of a candy bar that you'd forgotten was there?!

At just about the same moment I found my voice so did the announcer and it boomed over the still silent room.

"Uh, Ingrid,"

"Yes?" Ingrid said very softly as she looked up into the bright light.

"Can we start the show now?"

"Vell, ok," she sighed. "But make it quick vill you? I've got so very much to share vit my new girlfriend."

And for the next five years she did. Her favorite movie, "Johann, the Living Sea Goat," her favorite song, "Your Solvang" and the first introduction to a man she'd always wanted to meet "Huge" Hefner. No, no, it's not a typo. She could never pronounce his name correctly and the day she met him for the first time at the Playboy Mansion it went like this:

"Why you must be Ingrid," he said as he approached her with his hand outstretch in greeting.

"Und you must be Huge," she replied in her soft spoken voice with the heavy German accent.

Some Girlfriends Have Extra parts

2009-03-15T07:42:00.000-07:00

Meeting girlfriends is like dating. In fact, I believe this may be the learning ground for many of our future initial contacts with men. You can meet a new best friend anywhere. Many women begin lifelong friendships in grade school or college. Some meet at an office or through other acquaintances. You can meet at a party, or through a club or organization where you both hold the same interests. It doesn't matter. You can't go looking for a girlfriend, other women smell desperation a mile away. No, it must be by chance.

You'll know the very minute you lay eyes on a woman that you're going to be fast friends. It's just like meeting your 'soulmate.' There's an unmistakable connection even before you say hello.

I've met a couple of my friends by chance. Take Jenna, for instance. She was dating the brother of a man that I was dating, both successful music execs. We met at a Hollywood club one night as we were passing each other at the front door on the arms of our dates. My first thought was, 'oh now she looks interesting. Hmmmm, maybe we could be friends." I didn't see her again though until several weeks later at the Federal Building in Los Angeles. We were both in line at the Passport Office. I was deep in thought when I heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Hello?" Jane?

I looked up and saw this woman with big beautiful eyes and the warmest smile you've ever seen.

"Yes?" (I didn't recognize her)

She was dressed very simply and wore no make up. She carried a book in her arm.

"It's me, Jenna. We met a couple weeks ago at the Troubador." You were heading out, I was coming in?" Me, Wes....

"Oh, oh. Yes! I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you. Hi, how are you?"

"I'm great, thanks. And you?"

"Can't complain."

"Hey, it looks like we're both heading out of the country," she said as she held up her passport application.

"Oh, yeah, I guess we are...uh, I"m meeting Bill in Cannes at MIDEM and then vacationing in the South of France, and you?"

"Moving to Paris. Tom and I are taking a break."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to.....

"NEXT!" "Next in line, please!" shouted the man at the pick up window.

"Oh, that's me," I said taking a step backward. "Well, maybe we'll see each other again soon?" Hey, maybe even in Paris!"

And off I went. I new right then that we'd be friends. It was just a matter of time.

A couple weeks later, after Bill proposed marriage to me on the balcony of our hotel room at the Hotel de Paris in Monte Carlo, (I declined. He got attitude. It's a another story) we arrived in Paris. We'd just settled into our hotel room when the phone rang. It was Jenna; she was in the lobby. Could we join her for dinner, she begged. She was very lonely for a familiar face. Bill put his bruised ego aside and off we went to the brasserie downstairs to share some wine and laughter.

After dinner, Jenna and I felt like an espresso and some people watching at a sidewalk cafe down the street. So we paid the check and left Bill to continue pouting in the hotel room. We talked for hours. When the cafe waiter started folding the chairs for the night, we decided to go for a walk. We walked for hours through the streets of Paris until the sun was up.

Later that day Jenna and I met again and walked along the Seine, marveled at the Louvre, and shared a simple handmade truffle from Fauchon while staring silently in awe at the Cezanne stained glass dome in the Paris Opera House.

A few nights later we joined my newly jilted lover and a friend of his for dinner. We whizzed in the Porsche down the rain soaked streets, past the the Eiffel Tower in all its glory, down the Champs-Elysee, around the Arc de Triomphe, and down a dark narrow street stopping abruptly in the middle of the block. Valets rushed out of nowhere and hurried us to the ornate front door under the cover of huge umbrellas. Once inside, our eyes had to adjust to the extravagance of the room. It was as if we'd entered a Faberge egg. The 16 foot high walls were covered in deep turquoise silk, diamond-tufted in gold metal with large, carved gold buttons at each intersection. The chandeliers were like bare trees in winter with icicles dripping from every branch. The tables were layered with deep green, turquoise, yellow and blue damask, silk and hand embroidered brocade. The place settings were heavy silver, the china; porcelain, the crystal wine glasses, Baccarat. It was breathtaking.

My new best friend and I breathed in the anticipation of a perfect evening, and it was -- except for the dog. I didn't know at the time that it was customary in Paris for your pet canine to accompany you into any public place, including a five star restaurant. So, there we were and there 'it' was -- the dog -- who apparently was experiencing a violent disturbance in its digestive tract. Yes, Gigi had gas! It was deadly. Oddly enough, no one else seemed to be reacting to the foul smell but me. No raised eyebrows or whispers. I looked at Jenna. She looked up from her menu at me and shrugged her shoulders. There were no other signs that anyone other than Jenna and I were smelling the offensive olfactory assault on this otherwise magical evening.

That night at the hotel we laughed until we cried. We knew right then and there that we would be friends forever. As I look back, now 26 years later, I'm certain that because I was the only one in the restaurant with a panicked, sick look on my face that the other diners - maybe even some at my own table, thought I was the foul smelling offender that evening. It makes us laugh every time.

Oh and yes, we are still best of friends, sisters in fact. We will finish this life in each other's lives, through the thick and thin - and we've had both (stay tuned).

We All Live in the Land of Nod

2009-03-13T18:48:00.000-07:00

There are no exceptions. We are women. We are asleep at the wheel on some of the most important journeys in our lives, and then some.

Please don't get me wrong! I'm not saying that we're ignorant or stupid or lazy or any other derogatory word you might want to slip into this sentence so you can be insulted. I'm not even suggesting that because we're women we are unaware of what may be going on around us in our lives day-to-day. I'm simply saying that we tend to romanticize the most important events in our lives. Often before, during and after they become reality. I'm talking about the fact that we are lulled into believing that whatever our world is at the moment it is good and safe and loving and then...

It happens. That life-changing event that sends even the strongest of us into a tailspin. The new man, the marriage proposal, the wedding, the breakup, the loss of a job, the birth of a child, menopause, the death of someone close. "I didn't think (fill in the blank) would be like this" we whisper. Yet, when faced head-on with these intrusions into our quiet happy little world as we knew it we find ourselves hearing for the very first time what our closest girlfriends had seemingly known all along. The facts.

And that's what this blog is about. It's about what all us gals have kept under wraps and to ourselves as we stood steadfastly by each other in that happy, euphoric, boring little center of the universe we call home. This is not information ordinarily bandied about at a reunion luncheon or a night out with the gals. Hell, we won't even crack the silence after having too much to drink.

Remember....every woman before you got the facts only because somewhere along the way they had a girlfriend who enlightened them right after a life altering moment. It's not like you were out sick the day they handed out this very personal information around the halls at school, or on vacation when your female co-workers were all talking about the fact memo around the water cooler, or god forbid, that time you missed the one Sunday dinner where your own mother was letting your sisters in on the news. NO! The fact is...you don't even know what you don't know until you needed to know.

This is not a serious blog, it's not meant to offend or be confrontational. It's not necessarily autobiographical. There's no hidden agenda here and I don't name names. (I know, I know...probably won't help me find a publisher) I just want to shed light on some of the facts of life before they find you!

Enjoy