For this almost fifty lady, it’s like walking the gauntlet at the malls these days. The young kiosk vendors pounce immediately; at first coaxing with artificial compliments and when I say no thank you they become aggressive and soon insulting. Seriously!?!
At one point in Vegas, I told one to fuck off – not one of my finer moment. To make it worse, my grown son was with me and he comforted me with soothing words, but I could tell he was trying not to laugh. And why not? His almost decrepit mother, on the brink of fifty, just told the pushy kiosk vender to fuck off.
Awe the finer moments of life.
I think all of the young, beautiful kiosk vendors hawking their wares in the malls of America should begin by passing out adult beverages with their sample miracle creams. It might make swallowing their condensing,, artificial, back handed. compliments a little easier.
A bit defeated, I found the Nordstrom cafe, a sanctuary for the elderly I suppose. But after a lovely salad and a chilled glass of Chardonnay, I’ve created a moment of loveliness that transcends the lines around my eyes.
We should all create bubbles of happiness moments around us whenever we can. Each happiness bubble will be different for each of us. But anytime you have a minute to wrap yourself up in a happiness bubble do it! Shut the world’s opinion out. Remember that you are FABULOUS just the way you are – laugh lines and all!
“A flower does not bloom for itself, but for the world; do likewise.”
– Matshona Dhliwayo
On Sunday’s, I’ve developed a little HAPPINESS habit, I drive to Trader Joe’s and buy myself flowers (they have an awesome assortment). This week I selected a bouquet 💐 of beautiful pink and white roses.
I place the bouquet next to my bedside lamp, letting their soft fragrance lift my spirits in the sterile hotel room that has been my home for 6 weeks now.
What makes you happy?
By the way, go check out Cees Showcase of Photography for more inspiration!
And when it happens, it can be sometimes hard to swallow. Like learning little things about yourself that is a bit uncomfortable. Now it doesn’t have to be the drama-life-altering-kind of revelation. Oh no. In my opinion, it’s all the teeny, tiny revelations that can pile up into one big aha moment.
I took myself out to a country bar in Katy, TX , called MO’s Place. It’s a little early, only 9pm. But if I stayed in the hotel room any longer I would have just crawled into bed and called it a night. Which I tend to do – a lot. But sometimes I think it’s important to remember I’m single and it’s Saturday night and I need to get out once in awhile.
But it’s tougher here since I don’t have any going-out-kinda-friends and I’m not exactly comfortable walking into a bar in Houston on my own. I know – the revelation has me confused too.
I’m a seasoned traveler. I’ve stepped into foreign pubs, Vegas night clubs, and hole in the wall gems without much thought. And here I am triple thinking my decision to come out to listen to some live music and watch dancers circle the floor at a popular country bar.
There’s something different from visiting a place to knowing that I now live here. I’m a little more cautious. It’s as if I’m skirting around the edges of the city, dipping a toe into its waters, uncertain which way the tide is flowing. Is it safe? Am I doing the right thing? It’s a dangerous city (don’t watch the news here!). I’m alone. I’m always alone.
But the night is young. I step into the cavernous dance hall, pay the cover and find a seat at the end of the bar near the stage. I’m sipping a club soda, watching the place fill up with pretty young things in sparkling jeans and preening young men in cowboy hats. The mating rituals have begun. It makes me smile. I feel extremely ancient.
I can do this. The knot in my stomach won’t relax.
The band is about to start. An hour. I’ll give myself an hour.
A man asks me to dance. It’s a simple two step.
It’s time to adult.
Let’s do this.
“Flour and butter, cream and sugar, words and images — all the ingredients for a rich, tasty story.”
― Rona Simmons, The Quiet Room
Oh my goodness, I’ve been busy. The days are speeding by and I am getting less and less done. On the bright side its getting brighter and warmer and muddier out…Hello, Breakup! The very last one that I will experience. After 25 years I think I’m ready for a real spring.
But Sunday is for baking and I’m taking a few minutes to share pictures from my trip to Iowa (no time to bake this weekend). I just had to test out my son’s kitchen and what better way to do that than bake some cookies for the guys. After being pried out of Trader Joe’s (LOVE that store!) we made it back home, supplied for the next decade or more with pantry staples.
I baked. And fed the guys piping hot cookies straight out of the oven.
Cookies = Love
Tip: Freeze extras! I made an extra batch to freeze. Wrap the cookies in freezer Ziploc baggies to pull out to enjoy later. Yum!
Going through an old file I stumbled upon my mothers papers, yellow and wrinkled from age. She’s been gone now for over 25 years and I still miss her. The loss of someone you love never goes away, it just becomes apart of you – ghostly memories that resurrect themselves, like now.
Slipping into her pages, I found this hand written draft she wrote an eon ago about me as a little girl. This is how my mother saw me.
Rene is an eight and one half year old girl of mixed blood – white European heritage – with 1/4 Cherokee, Seminole Indian. She weighs 50lbs, is 3 feet 6 inches tall, she wears a size 1 shoe in girls. She has hazel eyes, chestnut brown hair, a powder of big, brown freckles across her snub nose. Rene’s skin is medium light, tans very quickly and rarely sunburns, it is delicate in texture.
Rene slips from a merry little minx to serious studious Miss in a twinkling and in a minute more shes pouring over a trifle, screaching at her brothers or complaining over some imagined hurt to her vanity. She can sit still for an hour but most often she’s moving restlessly about the small apartment, out in the yard or talking for hours on the telephone.
This morning I asked her how old she was. She replayed eight. A moving insight. Most little girls her age would have said almost nine or eight and one half or eight and a half.
– Crystal Thomas Tuchel
Remember gentlemen, it’s not just France we are fighting for, it’s Champagne! ~ Winston Churchill, WWI
Over the years my very dear friends and I continue to celebrate with a very good match; champagne, a pinch of richness and lots of laughter.
Like all of you, everyone leads busy lives. The years move on, many have scattered around the country, families grow and it’s not as easy to come together as we used to do. But, near or far, our friendship continues and is typically celebrated with something sparkling paired with decadent culinary surprises.
For those interested in learning more about how to select and serve your choice of bubbly you can read more here at WikkiHow.
Looking forward to our next get together!
I reached out to my very good girlfriend for sparkly glasswhere (she always has the prettiest table settings!) and she recommended Roost Brand. She even gave me a beautiful website where you can purchase some lovely items- Scarlett Alley. Happy Shopping!