Desert Magnolia

You know the kind I mean. The ones that natives use to protect their territory. Just a slight 'whoosh' as the dart lets fly, a tse tse fly sting as it finds its mark in the great white intruder, then 'Whomp!' as the big white body hits the dirt for a peaceful little nap. That's all I want. Is that too much to ask? My fantasies employing said blow gun and lots of tranquilizer darts..well, these originate to when our kids first started playing soccer. When parents whose mouths were bigger than their intellects and/or knowledge of the game would spout off. Incessantly. Loudly. Creating frowns of embarrassment on the faces of their children and head shakes as the rest of us witnessed stupidity of a stunning magnitude. I've also fantasized about elephant guns that deliver payloads of tranquilizers sufficient to render offenders unconscious for the entire soccer season. The. Entire. Season. I'm pretty sure if I passed a hat around it would come back full of

Had a moment of weakness today, following hours of distraction. It's one of those days in a week of intense pressure when the brain just snaps into 'rest' mode. It's done. It's in search of... ...cute shoes, as it turns out! They were...really really really on sale. And so cute in a high-heel snakeskin-y way. And I can actually visualize them in several ensembles..really! What do you think?

The lovely aroma of deep, rich chocolate with a middle note of espresso fills my head and I smile. My tastebuds jump for joy when I taste this blend of comforting warmth,  and I know the day is headed in a fine direction. As I sip, I notice I've chosen a stretchy lace blouse of a shade similar to the chocolate in my cup. Hmmm, I wonder if the day is destined to hold simple pleasures like this. One can only hope, yes? Happy Friday!

Do you remember when being polite and courteous above all else was paramount? When the thought of calling someone out on their BS stream or challenging a relative on a political or religious stance was unthinkable? Me too. But it's been awhile. I'm not sure when my filter started to fail, but for sure the last five years have definitely taken a toll on its integrity. Nonconfrontational by nature, I avoid runins that get messy whenever and wherever possible. I've strained my emotions and sensibilities so many times it's a wonder I haven't ended up looking like a female version of Gumby.  I guess I'm just wired this way. (Note: My natural inclination to avoid confrontation and anger has, however, been known to evaporate under the influence of too much cabernet. I'm just sayin'. Another reason to moderate intake, right?) Through the years I've envied those who can just let loose and tell their opponents how they feel, hold their ground, etc. I

If anyone had ever told me I'd be in a business where bodyworkers and estheticians work side by side, tossing around terms like 'cranial sacral therapy' and 'microdermabrasion', I'd have told them they were nuts. Me? A medium maintenance, more natural than glitzy kinda girl? Apparently so. I've seen things that non-practitioners should never see. For example, a Brazilian wax demo. On an enormous monitor above the waxee. Gulp. There's also the ceaseless spray tanning,  eyelash extending, cellulite ironing, breast lifting (with tape--I know!), and so on. These things no longer phase me. I can watch all this AND eat my yummy chicken caesar salad with stale croutons without blinking an eye. Took me a few years to completely de-sensitize, but I'm there. Turns out, I'm still immature, though. Middle-school immature. How do I know this about myself? Well, a couple weeks ago I was at a makeup training class to talk to the students about my comp

So the other day I escaped the confines of my office in search of nutrition. I do this. On a regular basis as it turns out. But that's not the point of this little story. See, I was in the truck. (Picture below courtesy of the manufacturer website.) The beautiful, cranberry red bad ass truck we bought awhile back that makes hubby (the not car guy) smile every time he gets in it, and serves as the workhorse we didn't even realize we needed around our house. We haul a lot of stuff in, a lot of stuff out, enjoy outdoor stuff that benefits from having a truck around, and so on. But I digress.   Hubby was out of town for a few days, so I was driving the truck. I love the truck. It makes a really cool growl-y sound when you accelerate. You can feel it in your butt, and there's something way cool about that. I'm digressing again. Anyway, I'm minding the speed limit, making my way to lunch, when this deranged, over caffeinated, aggressive driving person, whose l

Everyone is back to school, and the shopping has commenced. We don't normally do the full on back to school clothes shopping blitz; instead we tend to pace ourselves. We shop all the time...and, as a result, have become quite the sale junkies. Yes, the economy is in the toilet. But we take our responsibility for the greater good seriously--we throw a pretty constant stream of cash at the retail endeavor. Yes, our money has to go a looooong way what with a child in college on the East Coast and many many ways to spend our hard-earned dollars, but...in truth, we like sales. We like to shop. Sales allow us to justify our purchases, consciences clear, as we proudly display the absolutely darling pencil skirt that goes with the heretofore lonely charcoal patent pumps that have been waiting to accent the perfect skirt. The sleeveless black sweater, also deeply discounted, with the cool rhinestone-y zipper that really, miraculously does not render the sweater hooker wear, will top t

What makes someone begin a blog? Do they have a secret desire to share old hurts, new hurts, various views on life, questions, loves, complaints, blessing and banes? I think so. I never thought I'd be one of these people. In fact, when I first started paying attention to blogs as part of a research project with work, I thought the bloggers were a bit self indulgent, a bit narcissistic, a bit transparent regarding intensely personal issues that they shared in an anonymous monologue/dialogue with those who monitor their posts.   I thought they were a little cowardly for choosing an anonymous venue; I'm starting to get it. In fact, I get it enough to have begun a blog....myself. Me, the very serious, terribly private, rather introspective yet effusive one whose career requires being out there , ie available. My job requires me to be on at all times, in fact, even when I'm not really on I have to fake it. I fake it alright. I'm on whenever I need to be, but few have a