Living in the moment is not my bag. Inner peace eludes me. The Universe does not move magically at my whim. Meditation drives me batty. What's a girl to do? I've tried contacting my inner shaman. I don't have one. I am at one with no one. But I do think some solace for the… Continue reading Can I Get Some Help Here?…
The Diaries…
Not As Fun As It Used To Be…
Generally, the airport is a fascinating place. A particular morning last week--not so much. Perhaps it was my flight twice delayed. Most likely, it was that on the Today Show, Savannah Guthrie and her supposed fashion cohort pronounced heels and dresses dead for work wear thanks to COVID. Blasphemers make me testy. Scanning the waiting… Continue reading Not As Fun As It Used To Be…
Finally Grown Into My Pearls…
My grandmothers were pearl girls. My Grammie gave me my first strand when I was five, a graduated string with the largest in the middle and one added each year as I grew. She was straitlaced, knew the rules and liked them, and cooked three meals a day every day of her life. My Granna,… Continue reading Finally Grown Into My Pearls…
Can We Talk Cream Blush?…
Baby Chicken is a makeup aficionado. She's really, really good at it. Except she believes in minimalism for skin. Moi, not so much. The more I paint and hide, the better. "Stop using foundation," says she. My heart skips a beat and I have to call for my fan. Since senior year in high school--my… Continue reading Can We Talk Cream Blush?…
Lessons From My Mother…
My mother was adventurous. Me, not so much. It bothered her deeply that I developed a distaste for camping, non made-up faces and informality at a dinner parties. A good portion of my childhood was spent in the woods amidst my mother's attempts to make me stronger. This included camping. In a tent. Away from… Continue reading Lessons From My Mother…
Havisham Days…
The renaming of the 4th of July has begun. No longer Independence Day, but renamed Havisham Days in honor of the wedding-attired dollface to which all the widows feel a kinship. Why the change? This Independence Day holiday marks ten years since The Norwegian's fateful hike with death in the mountains of Colorado. Those who… Continue reading Havisham Days…
A Regular at the Country Dive Bar?…
"I can walk around Kierland free as a bird." Middle Chicken and I are playing a game called, Guess what I can do now that the mask mandate has been lifted. The Kierland part is important as it's home to Anthropologie. Anthropologie is that wonderland for women of a certain age-all our favorite stuff is… Continue reading A Regular at the Country Dive Bar?…
Happy Mother’s Day Y’all…
Oldest Chicken and Baby Pea are having a baby. When they told us at Christmas, Oldest Chicken got a little choked up. His tears were hastily swept aside. Middle, Baby Chicken and myself had no problem openly blubbering, dancing and squeeing. I was given rules. No telling the best girls until I had the go… Continue reading Happy Mother’s Day Y’all…
Croaking In A Bloody Basin…
Writers live mostly in their heads. It's both blessing and curse. It means we can entertain ourselves anywhere and any time but there's also a dark side. Like that little girl Longfellow wrote about, "When she was good, she was very good indeed. But when she was bad, she was horrid." That's the mind of… Continue reading Croaking In A Bloody Basin…
Married Furniture…
"I finally got rid of my married furniture," says a friend. She's been divorced for about ten years. It takes that long. I know exactly what she means. Living with the remnants. No matter how beautiful, expensive or tasteful, furnishings contain memories. In her case of a bad boy husband. In my case, a dead… Continue reading Married Furniture…
The Duchess Diaries 