Feeling Good

Life is like a rainfall shower head

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I have read and heard many stories about the benefits of a nice, hot bath.  I have seen pictures where there are frothy bubbles and scented candles surrounding a tub.  There are spongy loofahs, wooden book holders, calming flute music…yadda, yadda, yadda.  I have foregone all these relaxing dunks.  I am sure that if I did try just soaking for awhile my mind would wander off to the fairy forest and my brain would stop overplaying lists of things I could be doing were I not sitting around in a watering hole.  I am sure I can hear your gasps of dismay and your degrading comments of how I am missing out on the special relaxing quality of the spa.  Maybe I’m just not that relaxing kind of gal.  Well, I thought I wasn’t until Wiseguy installed a new shower head.

My “new-to-me” Moen shower head was actually a gift that I bought for Wiseguy five years ago.  He is a tall man and I thought the two part shower head would assist him in washing off more quickly and efficiently.  (Yup, always looking for ways to increase productivity haha).  Wiseguy decided to reno his bathroom and remove the ancient green tub and put in a stand up shower.  I discovered he NEVER used the rainfall part of the shower head.  Meh, his loss.  The silver lining here is that he got a different shower head for his shower and I got gifted with the Moen.  Lucky me!

I was looking forward to using it, but not super excited.  I believed I knew what it would feel like.  I was wrong.  So wrong.  I used it for the first time today and I seriously almost fell down in the tub as this mini rainfall sprinkled upon my body.  I started with the small, main shower head.  Usual pressure.  Nothing crazy.  Then I turned on the rainfall shower head.  I cannot explain what it feels like to have little water droplets cascade from the top of my shoulders down to my thighs.  I will give it a try though.

Rain fall shower heads disperse the water so that it feels like little massage fairies walking around your body.  Little tap, tap, taps.  These hot droplets hit various pressure points all at the same time.  Your mind can’t function because you are enthralled with little wet fingers that keep gently striking you.  How can you think about anything while you are becoming jelly under these rain forest-like conditions?  You don’t realize how sensitive your skin is until you stand under a rainfall shower head.  I would recommend it to anyone!

For you bath people, I am sure that your method works well for you.  A nice, hot, steamy bath where you can feel your muscles unknotting as you soak.  Please continue to enjoy your method of decompressing.  I am happy to have found this glorious hot rain that won’t let me think about anything because I am too focused on where each water droplet is tapping on my body.  My mind gets erased.  My stress is removed.  The hardest part is realizing that I will eventually have to turn off this glorious stream and continue with my day.

This concludes my enjoyment sharing for today.  May you find and appreciate the little joys you have in your life.  There are many and we oftentimes miss them because our “want list” always seems longer and more desired than the “already have list”.

Quote for the day:  Life is like a rainfall shower head.  Feels good! (author: Maryann Jurcich)

Purge of 2016

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After years of accumulating stuff and things and needed items, our house has become a hoarder’s dream (and my nightmare).  To be completely honest, when starting our new life together with nothing except a room to rent and a bed to sleep in (mind you, it was brand spankin’ new!) the pursuit of needed items became my main goal.  Now, after 20 years, I am ready to review the necessity of our belongings.  I am mentally prepared and slowly limbering up for the PURGE OF 2016!  Yes!   This will become a glorious and monumental memory that we shall cherish forever!  At least, I thought we would.  When actually touching items and deciding if they could be discarded and banished from my life forever, I found that every item had a memory and a touching story attached.  How does one part with things that are actually moments etched in the storybook of your life?

Purging is a commonplace word nowadays.  Purge your body of bad food intake with a 7-day cleanse.  Yoga…to purge the mind of everyday stresses and old negative thoughts.  You thought IKEA was space conscious, you should check out the new Tiny House movement.

Hubby and I were the opposite. We went from a one bedroom apartment to a three bedroom semi-detached home to a single home with seven bedrooms.  Oh yes!  Seven bedrooms which would accommodate our growing family.  Total count:  Me, Wiseguy, his father, Wiseguy’s grandmother, two sons, and a daughter.  Check, check, and check!  A room for one and all.  This also meant more items being brought into the humble abode.  As life changes so do the items in your keepsake arsenal.

When my mother-in-law passed away my father-in-law moved in with us.  That meant 50 years of accumulated treasures and keepsakes.  He sold the cottage.  More items transported into the home.  I myself was cooking with enthusiasm and vigour which also introduced me to many new kitchen appliances and toys.   (Kitchen gadgets are my drug of choice…first even before my Sephora make-up “crack” addiction).  After years of planning, purchasing, collecting and storing how does one begin to cut the umbilicle cord of memories?

I will now show you an item that should be discarded.  As a sane human being, if someone showed me this particular piece I would look at them askew and ask why they still have this piece of dreck to begin with.  It’s absolutely asinine to keep this.  Here is the item I refer to:

 

This is a container that used to have Coca-Cola in it.  I received this at a fair that we used to go to called the CNE (Canadian National Exhibition).  From what I can recall (as I was at a tender tween age), this particular drink was purchased when my brothers, sister and I were at said CNE and we went to the Food Building and got pizza (we must’ve had a coupon).  I think it also came with free refills.  This is junk right?  NOPE!

Above are three pictures showing different angles of this plastic soda pop container.  The first picture shows the container in its full glory.  The second shot shows how I had devised a way to store straws so that I could keep them dust free.  This had started when Wiseguy and I had first moved in together.  Limited space meant using stuff in an ingenious way.  The third picture shows how I had created an enticing way for the kids to get straws.  We would tip the container and try to guess what colour straw would come out.  Sounds silly, but for some reason this has become a weird tradition.

Historically, traditions are passed from generation to generation.  They date back years, decades, centuries, etc.  My fantastically absurd way of getting a straw was my way of entertaining my stepchildren.  We had no money to do fun stuff so I was always trying to think up new ways to challenge their minds and create interesting new games.  This straw game has now gone from stepchildren to grandchildren.

Kennie, being the eldest grandchild, was shown this trick by her mother (my stepdaughter).  She was fascinated!  Now, she knows where this old container is and shares it with her little sister and younger cousins.  It’s like magic!

I’m holding this ridiculous straw container in my hand.  It’s really old, junky and I could buy a lovely glass container to hold my straws.  I could easily discard this space invader and keep the memories of this CNE memento.  I would always remember the magical memories it held for me with each child that used it in awe.  However, seeing it in my cupboard and knowing that one of the four grandchildren would grab for it, I hesitate to discard it.  If it came to a purge vote would it be IN to keep or OUT to purge?

What do you think?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Check engine light…thanks

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I was having a wonderful long July weekend.  A three-day weekend with lots of sleep-in days (or perhaps afternoon naps) and NOOOOOOO plans.  Selfish time!!  Don’t get me wrong.  I love socializing, but I also love time to myself and doing things (or not).   Anyway, I was starting off my long weekend, happily driving around to different stores and lolly-gagging (Oh yeah…love the old-time words).  Suddenly I saw a strange pictorial image.  Hmmm.  When my car attempts to communicate with me, I know there is an issue.  After Googling the picture I discovered it meant “check engine”.  F***  or   SH**!!!  There were many 4-letter words I came up with.  I did the mature thing and booked an appointment with my car dealership in order to remedy the situation.  The cost of this was swirling through my head and then I realized how lucky I was.  I found the silver lining in my predicament.  I hope you can share my newfound old-lady wisdom and incorporate it into your daily life.

I had a “Total Recall” moment (no Arnold Schwarzenegger but still life-changing) where I remembered when Wiseguy and I had only one vehicle.  I remembered waking up at 2 am to drive Wiseguy to work.  I then drove home to our apartment and slept for a few hours to get up later to go to the same workplace.  Yes, we had one vehicle.  We sacrificed and made due with what we had.  Walking through the underground parking at 2:30 am is quite scary…unless you are tired.  To be honest, being tired you don’t care who rides the elevator with you.  Probably a very good thing.  We did what had to be done in order to make a living.

Fast forward through life trials and tribulations.  We started off in a one-bedroom apartment with no furniture.  Seriously, no furniture. Our first purchase was a splurge on a bed.  Other than that, we were blessed to have a hotel banquet round table for 4 people and a motel tv donated by Wiseguy’s parents (truly, from his mom).  We had the best day ever when my mother-in-law took us shopping at Sears to get a couch.  We were moving up in the world!  Befriending a  Native (American/Canadian) Indian at work, we scooped up a pullout couch and a swivel chair.  Yes, we were lucky.  Furniture for the kids to actually be able to sit on!  For their beds, the poor darlings were relegated to tri-fold mattresses.  Just sponge covered with fabric.  I bought twin sheets (just the top one) in different colours so they could identify with one.  They slept on the floor in the living room.  It was all we had and we made it work.  It wasn’t easy, but there was a lot of love and we tried to make it as special as possible.

Clothing…well, we loved Value Village.  We found a way to clothe everyone with the wee little budget that we had to work with.  To be honest, Value Village (comparable to Goodwill or Salvation Army) had good quality items.  Some items still had the original store tags on them.  Am I embarrassed?  NO!  Everything we did was out of love.  We loved life.  We loved our children.  Belongings were not what were about.  We were about quality time and making memories.

So, here is a petit view of my perspective on our new world order.  We are used to looking at the world in a negative way and yet there are many things that are so positive.  So, I will now give you a mini-training lesson on finding the positive in the negative.  Here we go…

  •  My car shows the check engine light.

NORMAL REACTION:  (BLEEEEEEEEP)….SON OF A  (BLEEEEEEEEP)

NEW REACTION:  I am so lucky.  I have a vehicle that tells me when something is wrong.  I am not stranded on the side of the road.  Oh, even better, it’s summer.  I am not stuck on the side of the road in the middle of a Canadian winter.  Best yet…I am grateful that I have a vehicle.  I am grateful that I can afford to pay for the repair.  Life is good.

  • It’s 38 degrees (Cdn) and over 100 degrees (US)

NORMAL REACTION:  It’s too hot!  I can’t believe how hot it is.  It’s unbearable.

NEW REACTION:  I am so lucky to experience beautiful, warm weather after the cold winter.  I am also super grateful for the air conditioning that I can afford to have in my home.

  • I just got my hydro bill

NORMAL REACTION:  Seriously how much am I paying???

NEW REACTION:  I may not be pleased with my bill, but I am lucky to be able to pay my bills and have my house temperature cool so that I can sleep comfortably at night.

SUMMARY:  I hope your life is as great as mine.  It’s full of love and hugs (yes I’m a hugaholic).  And if not, I hope you find your way to that promised land.  You may think the things you own will make you happy, but as you get older you will find that less is more.  Not sure who mentioned that previously, but they were right.  Smile and think about how lucky you are.

Lastly, when the check engine light pops up, be happy.  It might cut into your savings, but it saved your life. It let you be around longer for those who love you.  Thank you “check engine” symbol.  It’s a reminder that everything in life in short.  Joie to vivre…Joy of life!

Cellulite…a love story

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I love sharing stories about my life and growth.  In this particular instance, it’s about waist (not waste…as no leftovers were harmed).  I can discuss the long, cold Canadian winters which leads me to over-carbohydrate myself with ravenous amounts of bread:  sliced bread, pita bread, bagels (bread really), English muffins (still bread) and then there are the dunking-into-stew breads like baguettes or French stick or really anything that sops up that lovely stewed liquid.  So, today my topic is about curdled-cottage-cheese thighs, my “over” tummy and how I cope with the gym fever of the world.

I joined a gym once.  It was a long time ago…ahem…super long time ago.  I think there was a T-Rex with a pencil ready to sign me up.  The machines were enormous. There were mirrors everywhere. There was a machine which had me pushing my legs out and focusing my eyes on my hoo-haw.  Why was this good?   After a few months (and a call to the Mafia) I managed to cancel my membership.

Yoga is a two-digit word.  Yes, it is supposed to be about clearing your mind and learning to breathe.  Yoga doesn’t work for me.  I learned to breathe…that is true, but other than that, all it did was lead me to rehearsing (in my head) my grocery list of items that needed to be done.  Yoga was not for me.

Racquetball.  I love playing racquetball!  It’s my favourite sport!  I started playing in University with a friend (for an hour) and have never…ever…played again.  True!  (Note: This is an ongoing joke with me and Wiseguy.)

Cycling!  Yes, I recall my bro and I going for long bike rides around our neighbourhood and beyond.  We were explorers!  We would leave after dinner and wouldn’t be back for at least two hours.  I do recall two bad cycling incidents.  Once was a mosquito in my eye.  Yes, it flew in and I smushed it and I couldn’t see well.  The other was where I was turning around a curve and there were crushed stones.  I wiped out and my elbows and knees were bleeding.  Luckily I was able to walk home and keep up my sniffles in order to be pampered at the finish line.  Milk it baby…milk it.

I belonged to a dance group that met once a week.  We had numerous performances and I was in almost all of the dances.  Yes…I was svelte.  Also I was young.  I could jump and spin and twirl and sing.  I could do almost anything.  (Yes, it rhymes…read it again.)

So, here I am…almost 50 (yes…I’m surviving) and my body has decided that there are renovations needed.  No, I did not get the memo.  No notice.  No meeting.  NOTHING!  My gutsy-trusty body decided to go ahead and pillage me without any notice.  How rude!

Every morning, before I get out of bed, I have learned that I should stretch.  I have been doing this since my early thirties.  Well, lately my stretches sound more like maracas!  One comedienne said it best, “I’m an exotic dancer for the blind.”  I stretch and all of my joints take turns cracking like a bowl of rice cereal.

I have maps of some sort of my legs. There are blue lines which I can only assume are rivers.  Not sure where these rivers are but one day I’ll find them.

Finally there are the bubbles.  Yes, I always find silver linings in everything in life.  My wonderful legs that carry my body everywhere have these pretty little dimples.  Yes…they are everywhere.  These dimples are fantastic FAT deposits.  They are the storage units of my winter solstice and my packing on weight to keep warm in winter.  Yes, I love lying to myself.  I just love food and using hibernation always sounds like a good excuse.  Anyway, I jiggle.  My stomach, by butt, I even have jiggle arms.  Here is my crazy thought.  Follow me on this.  Once I get diagnosed with an incredibly bad illness I will have my 20 lbs of extra fat (like camels not needing water) to help me through any horrible surgery and recovery.  Skinny people have nothing to fall back on.  My excess will assist me in survival and then I will once again be slim and healthy after my horrible crisis. Crazy?  Nah!  I just think ahead.

I am “cuddly”.  My granddaughter came up and poked me in my belly. Oh yes! Wait for it… “Big belly”, she said.   Yup, that is what this almost 6-year old said.  Was she right?  Oh yes…absolutely.  Was I offended?  In my younger days I would have been, but I have accepted my body.  I would like to be thinner, but I am also happy with myself and my life.  I don’t want to diet.  I don’t want to give up foods I love.  I consider myself a chef of sorts.  I have the greatest kitchen in the world and I LOVE TO COOK!  My other favourite motto is “never trust a skinny chef”.

Flashback to my “big belly”.  I looked at Kennie and asked, “Baba has big belly which means I am soft and cuddly and I can give you amazing hugs so big bellies are good right?”  She thought for a bit.  Really, really thought about it and then looked at me, nodded and said, “Yup, it’s good.” Then she moved in for the soft, cuddly, Baba hug.

Cellulite and cuddles…a love story.

 

 

 

 

 

Geraniums and other mysteries…

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I do stop and smell the flowers.  However, nowadays with the new everlasting hybrids, most flowers do not have a scent.  You need to go and stalk people who have been planting for the last 25 years.  They have the wonderful originals.  Standing around you can actually smell the lilacs when the wind blows.  I have tried to keep flowers in my house, but to no avail.  Besides aloe plants, everything else either gets too dry or overwatered  a.k.a. drowned.  So imagine my surprise when I realized that I can actually keep geraniums alive.  Yes it’s true.  I learned the secret from my mother-in-law.  It’s a simple trick and yet I find that it applies to situations in everyday life.

My mother had a green thumb.  I am not sure if she always had it, but our house could’ve been a greenhouse.  A botanical garden.  I recall a wonderful green plant (nope…no idea what it was called…all I know is that she used to use kitchen twine to tie this climbing plant to the spindles of the staircase.  Oh yes, this went on for years until my brother and I decided to challenge each other to slide down the bannister.  Keep in mind, this plant started from a cutting and ended up being 12 feet long.  It wound up the stairs and up to the bedrooms.  I will always remember this:

Me:  (whispering) No…mama is gonna kill you!

Bro: (whispering) not unless you tell her!

Me:  It’s a long way down.  You’ll fall!

Bro:  Don’t tell…

NOTE:  This dangerous endeavour was even more high faluting as our mother was sitting precariously around the corner in the family room watching tv.  Daredevils?  Idiots?  You decide.

And then he began his slide.  He started at the top of the stairs.  He straddled the bannister and launched himself down.  Suddenly,  his leg got caught on the foliage halfway down and then he flipped over and fell down onto the ceramic floor.  The only thing that saved his hide was that he had a frickin’ nose bleed!  Otherwise our mother would’ve whipped his butt!  The important thing was to fix him up and make him well…before she could beat him.  Oh…European upbringing…so logical.   The worst thing on my part was that, not only had I predicted the fall, but I couldn’t help laughing when he fell.  Yes, I was a good big sister.

I recall seeing the Giant Beanstalk strewn on the floor.  Not sure what happened afterward.  The fact that little bro lived AND did not receive any punishment that I can recall made this evergreen moment memorable.  The other floral memories I have are African violets.  My mother was obsessed with them.  We had them all over the house.  She prided herself on having these plants thrive and having family and friends comment on how she could make them live and grow exponentially when others could only condemn them to death.  My mother had a gift.

I myself thought repeated drownings were important in order for flowers to survive.  Yes I killed everything until I purchased geraniums.  Beautiful flowers.  Many colours and yet Wiseguy’s favourite were the bright ruby red ones.  Not pink or white.  The red ones were the ones that his mother always loved.  Her reason for loving geraniums was simple…they bloom all summer long and into fall.  A little chilly weather and they still bloom and thrive.  So, after being a mass floral murderer I tempted fate and extended my interest into the daring flora.  I bought and took care of the bright red geranium.

I bought fancy pots.  I purchased the good soil.  I hoarded and applied “miracle grow” to ensure that they would thrive.  I carefully planted these beautiful flowers and watched them bloom and grow.  (Reminds me of “Sound of Music”…”bloom and grow forever…”)  Then something strange happened.  My beautiful flowers started drying up and blowing away.  Did I do something wrong?  What happened?  I felt like a failure.  I slaughtered a living green being.  I felt horrible.    I didn’t know what to do.  My hubby’s favourite flower and I was killing it.

I finally came to the conclusion that I couldn’t keep any plant life alive.  One weekend we ended up visiting the in-laws.   We arrived and walked into the backyard.  My mother-in-law was beside a geranium and was bending branches off the geraniums.  The flowers were already drying out.  I asked her what she was doing.  She replied, “In order for the new flowers to bloom you need to cut off the dried flowers.  You don’t want to keep wasting nutrients on the dead flowers when you can feed the new blooms.”  I wasn’t sure what she meant.  “See,” she pinched the stem of the dried petals and pulled it off.  “Now, the new blossoms can bloom beautifully because the nutrients are going where they are supposed to go.”  I went home and I gently bent and tore away the dried stems.   It was time to feed the blossoming blooms.

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I compare my life to the blooming geranium.  Sometimes you need to cut off the dead blooms.  The dried out blooms being negative people.  They won’t feed you any wisdom, kindness, or goodness.  It is best to just let them go.  Learn how to handle things that grow.  That includes children, grandchildren, parents,  siblings, family, friends.  We are always learning and growing.  So instead of drowning those in order to save them, perhaps it is best to let them go.  It is up to them if they want to survive and move on.  For those newfound petals that are blossoming, be there for them.  They are vibrant, excited, and usually happy.  Those are the flowers you want in your garden because together you can make a happier life.  This is how I view my beautiful geraniums…mysteries leading to life lessons.  Happy growing!

One Step at a Time…

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“…One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind…”  Thank you Neil Armstrong. Neil will always be remembered and quoted for saying this phrase when this astronaut landed on the moon.  It is a phrase that can be applied to many phases of our lives.  The most memorable comparison for me is when I get informed that any child has gone from crawling to walking.  Yes…one small step…

I am sure you have noticed a trend in my writings regarding children.  I am amazed at their tenacity.  I adore their independence. I marvel at their simple wisdom.  We adults oftentimes lose perspective of our lives because we have been educated.  We are taught to follow certain paths in our schooling.  From kindergarten to elementary school. From middle school to high school.  Perhaps we have advanced to College courses or even University.  Education is very important and yet I admire the free spirit of the young.  Don’t get me wrong, being brought up by universal standards of quality (and the wooden spoon of “tough love”)  I can now appreciate even more the wonderful open qualities of youth.

It was repugnant to me when my parents would refer to me as the “Pepsi” generation. I believed it was supposed to mean something like “you are so spoiled you don’t drink water, you drink Pepsi.”  I still haven’t really figured it out, but it sounds about right.  (Note:  my parents never purchased name brand so that is why I assumed this was something they heard and adopted).  Anyway, every generation goes through the “you have no idea what it was like when I was growing up.”  To be fair to my parents, they were right.  They were raised in a village with many many siblings (no, not 4 or 5…try 8 or 9).  Schooling was done by grade 3 due to farming obligations.  They worked hard to make their lives better and better for their children.

Wiseguy and I had started our lives in a less-than-prominent-societal situation.  We fell in love (so cliche), but it was true.  We moved into an apartment.  No real funds.  First and last month’s rent.  No furniture….seriously….no furniture.  A room on the 11th floor of an apartment building with a wonderful balcony.  Our view of the sky was magical.  There were no buildings around us.  We could actually see the CN Tower in Toronto from our balcony is Mississauga (yes, that is a city in Ontario, Canada).  Yes, we were that weird couple that got together for love and not money.

So, our lives as a couple began as one small step.  We found each other.  We became best friends.  We knew that we could live as a family.  We decided to throw caution to the wind and move in together.  A simple one bedroom apartment.  A small starter home.  We married a year later.  There were many doubters.  There were many personal and family consequences.  Again, we decided to do what we thought and believed was best for us.  Many doubted. Many disbelieved.  There were those beautiful few who believed in us and they are always remembered and special in our hearts.

The years have passed, sometimes feeling slow but nowadays feeling so quick.  We have raised 3 beautiful children.  We look at our wonderful grandchildren and I am in awe whenever I see them.  I was once asked why I quiz children and “bother” them.  I honestly answer, “I don’t bother them.  They are smart and I LOVE hearing their answers.”

Children are magnificent!  I can tell you honestly that what they think about is waaaaaay more interesting than what you have to work on at work.  Their minds are agile and fresh and ingenious.  You used to think like that until you got pigeonholed at school.  Think the same.  Act the same.  Behave the same.

Yes, our world is comprised of structure and rules.    I am not saying this a bad thing.  However, sometimes thinking and behaving “abnormally” can be fun!  Grab a box of crayons and a colouring book but DON’T colour inside the lines.  Oh I know there are new colouring books for adults…very intricate and detail oriented.  Your mind goes CRAZY if you colour outside the lines.   Even better, get a children’s colouring book and colour a monkey purple and green and pink.  Believe me, not colouring to “specific norms” will feel really weird and almost heart wrenching.  I slowly got over the “brown monkey” syndrome when I coloured my monkey green and yellow and my granddaughter said, “Here, add some pink to his head.”  Hmmm, sharing and good advice from the eyes from a child.  Monkey can be different just like people are different.

I just received a text (yes, I am a modern Baba a.k.a. grandma in Eurospeak) that my youngest grandson took his first steps yesterday.   Little “Jumpin’ Jack” will be one on May 19th so Mr. “I’m-on-the-move” has decided that there are too many adventures in life that he needs to explore and got his groove on early.  Congratulations little JJ (Jumpin’ Jack!)  May your new elevated levels of adventure be as fun and exciting as you hope them to be.  May your bumps and bruises heal quickly.  May you always know that every adventure you undertake will always start with one step at a time.

 

 

 

Crack…for Elders

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Although I am not a drug user…not a smoker (anymore…another story).  I actually don’t know what drugs are out there.  I learn, unbeknownst to me, by watching CSI or some other crime show.  I hear about these things called “Mary Janes” which I always believed were shoes.  Then there is something about “roofies” which I learned about from watching the movie “The Hangover“.  I always figured they were the jumper kids that have that amazing ability to bounce around from rooftop to ground.  Amazing!  Then I heard about this thing called “crack”…I had heard about Cocaine but “crack” just reminded me about childhood jokes about bums.  Literally…your bum bum.  Oh yes…I am the original Polly-Anna (for those who grew up on the Disney Sunday afternoon show you will understand that reference.  For those who didn’t, I am the girl (now grown up woman) who was shocked that people I knew injected or smoked stuff that I only saw criminals getting jailed for on tv.  Oh yes.  That was and is me.  Please note:  I do not judge.  Marijuana is pretty commonplace nowadays although it is illegal.  And cigarettes are now renamed and buried behind metal cabinets.  There are real daily “crack” substances that are not illegal and yet can lead to many financial foes…and this is my story.

I confess that I have my own “crack” hit.  It’s not smoked.  It’s not stolen but it sure makes a hit on my bank account.  I was introduced to a store called “Sephora”.  I researched the name.  It means “bird”.  That would mean freedom to most, but for the makeup hound, Sephora is like a gambling casino.  You walk in.  Beautiful people greet you and they are ready to help you in any way possible.  It is like a dessert wanderer walking into a bar and asking for water….any water….and then you are advised that you are in the Holy Land and any kind of water you want is there for you.  They will help you in any way possible.  You get a little basket.  They walk you through temptation.  They even apply the the sacred ointments upon your skin.  You feel like a goddess!  All your imperfections will be annihilated.  All your wrinkles will be forlorn.  You will have less wrinkles, your skin will glow.  You will sleep better.  Your eyeballs and earlobes will  breathe better.  Ok…I’m making that up…but seriously….they are incredible!  You will feel so remarkable spending $200.00 there because they understand and know what you would like to look like and feel like.

Then one day, this sheep, who realized she had to spend surreptitious amounts of funds, was asked quite bluntly by a three year old, “Why do you wear makeup?”  To which I replied, “to look beautiful?:   The smarter of us replied…yes…the three year old:  “You already are beautiful.”  Ahem…excuse me?  I must admit I am not a vain person.  I have gone from a size 6 to a size…plus oops…and been fine.  My face…very different story.  I started with a simple mascara that my aunt sent to me as a gift which my mother forbade me to wear.  I borrowed makeup from girlfriends at school and accidentally forgot to wipe it off before I got off the bus one day.  My  sister, bless her heart, got me a blush compact for my 14th birthday.  Now I was armed with both blush and mascara (and Chapstick…so cool).  I had never heard of moisturizer, face wash (lucky if a ever got a zit).  So my routine as a child…nothing.  Yup, quite simple.

Aging…for some reason, we women aren’t allowed to age.  Not sure why.  I started using expensive “crack” moisturizer and then foundation and then bronzer and then other stuff and realized that I wanted to be old and wrinkly.  I love my laugh lines.  Those lines mean I have laughed a lot and enjoyed life.  My neck is wrinkly because I am getting older.  There are now four beautiful happy and excited grandchildren in my life under the age of 6.  I am aging and I don’t want to be preserved.  I am allowed to be comfortable in my own skin.

Note:  Having said that, I will admit that I will NOT let myself go grey yet.  I have been greying since I was 20 years old but colouring my hair from red to blonde to brown to purple makes me feel happy and adventurous.  When I decide I’m ready for grey I’ll go whole hog.   I will not feel bad when I take a selfie and see all my wrinkles.  I used to feel like I was 23 years old, but times have changed.  Now I feel like I’m 45 which you is pretty good because I am actually going to be 47 in a few weeks.

So, why am I sharing this with you?  I believe that many women have the same dilemma.  We believe in the secret (sacred) serum…the elixir of youth.  Ads, magazines, movie stars, etc. etc.  What is a woman to do?

My very own opinion:  Do what makes you feel happy.  I will not preach that you shouldn’t follow fad diets.  I will not judge you if you prefer cosmetic surgery.  I will not judge you if you love “makeup crack” as much as I do.  In the end, life is a journey that should be filled with happiness.  So, if the “crack” you have doesn’t leave you broke then go for it!  We only live once.

P.S.  I LOVE  SEPHORA!  Yes, although it reads like I wish I was never there…my problem.  The staff there are wonderful.  The quality of the products are the best.  The staff are superbly friendly and well trained.  Kudos to the Sephora company.  Started in France and have arrived in North America.  Your store layout and your knowledgeable staff set you apart.  (note:  I have worked retail and truly appreciate good service.  Yours is phenomenal).

P.P.S. To my dearest husband.  Yes, I have makeup “crack” or “crackup” addiction.  Luckily, I have finally purchased all I need.

P.P.P.S.  Note:  You might like some of their great products…let me know if you are interested….I have a bonus points card.  (smiley face)