As my 40th birthday looms (a mere month away) I’m amazed by people’s reactions when I tell them I’m turning 40, the most common being, “YOU’RE turning 40?! Wow! You look great!”I’m so perplexed by this! I guess I could understand if I was turning
Henry awakened me last night asking to nurse “fo one minute.” I said no, he kept asking, so I raised the two-finger tickle monster who said, “Sh!” over and over again until it reached Henry’s tummy and he collapsed in giggles. This went on for
Well, she asked the next biggie: “Mom, who is the sandman?” “What do you mean?” “Is he a guy?” “Hmmmm, well, he’s kind of like a flying gnome with a long beard and a bag of sand over his shoulder.” I don’t know, what do you
Annabelle asked me the big question the other day.”Mom, where do babies come from?””From their mothers,” I replied.”I know, but where do the mothers come from?” she asked.”Oh, well, the ocean and the stars and the mountains all come together and swirl their energy and
Who knew that a speeding ticket would forever change my life for the better? Who knew that I was speeding right into magic that night?
I love my body, every delectable dimple, every juicy jiggle. It’s strong, healthy, vibrant, and sexy. It’s also not what we consider the ideal body in this day and age. My body would have been considered ideal in the 1950’s when Jane Russell was considered a bombshell. Of course I don’t have her tiny waist, so my body would have been considered even more ideal in prehistoric France when Venus De Willendorf and other fertility goddess statues were considered the ideal. Yes, abundant breasts, belly, hips and thighs…
My motto has always been the same as Caresse Crosby, that fabulous expatriate of 1920’s Paris: “Take care of the luxuries, the necessities will take care of themselves.” Whether this has served me well or not is a matter of opinion. I’m not going
I’m so sad Eartha Kitt died–one of my idols. Her music immediately transformed my car, my house, my parties, into complete fabulousness. She transported me to a glamorous world where women are one unto themselves, not needing anyone else to complete them. My best friend
I love this poem by Oriah Mountain Dreamer: THE INVITATION It doesn’t interest mewhat you do for a living.I want to knowwhat you ache forand if you dare to dreamof meeting your heart’s longing. It doesn’t interest mehow old you are.I want to knowif you
Tonight Henry smeared blue shaving cream all over his face and growled to me in his meanest voice: I’m a rectangle!” He ran around the house all day wearing a variety of things as capes, from playsilks to my red silk harem pants. He showed
