Speed into Magic
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?
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The Chocolate-Paved Road to Body Bliss
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…
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The Road to Wealth is Paved with Hula hoops?
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 to win any financial acumen awards—I haven’t done “wise” things like sock away my money in real estate or stocks, but I have traveled the world as what I like to call a “poverty jetsetter.”…
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Eartha
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 in high school, Matt, loved Eartha even more than I did. He had all her albums and he took me to see her at the Carlisle Hotel in New York for one amazing night. Matt…
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The Invitation
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 will risklooking like a foolfor lovefor your dreamfor the adventure of being alive. It doesnt interest mewhat planets aresquaring your moon…I want to knowif you have touchedthe centre of your own sorrowif you have been…
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Oh Henry
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 me his little pink mouse–he had her tiny arm wrapped in toilet paper and he told me her arm was “broten.” He then showed me his own “broten” arm, also wrapped in toilet paper. He’s…
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Drinking Happy Juice called Henry
There’s something so stabilizing and powerful about the mountains of Utah. Walking up rocks holding the hands of four toddlers only to emerge at a breathtaking waterfall, a cool spray on my face, moss-covered rocks…so beautiful. This morning Henry swung on the pole of my parent’s treadmill and told me he was on the streetcar in New Orleans. He then insisted I carry three buckets up the stairs—one was his hat, one his drum, and the red square one his…
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Toddler’s Fashion Crisis
Ahh, getting dressed. That age-old ritual. I wonder how it was in caveman times. “Honey? Do you want to wear the fig leaf or the buffalo skin loin cloth today?” Did two-year-old cavebabies shout “No!” at their mothers and throw their bamboo leaf underwear across the cave? Or were they better behaved and wear whatever their mother put on them before smacking their sibling across the head with a club and writing on the cave walls with a stick covered…
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The Case of the Chocolate Footprints
The Case of the Chocolate Footprints Today there was a mystery in my house, and we love a good mystery around here. If we can’t find one, we create one. For example: The Case of the Missing Car Keys, The Case of Mama’s Missing Cell Phone, The Case of the Little Lizard in the Paintbrush Drawer… On this particular day, I was busy making lunch and when I turned around and saw a trail of footprints across the kitchen floor….
