gratitude-a-thon day 2051:60


I turn 60 this week. I don’t understand how this happened in the same way that I don’t understand how the sun makes its way up into the sky every day and shines its magical beams in my face, how you can actually make a whole new person out of a couple of cells you carry with you your whole life, how bread is so fucking delicious.

People tell me that age is just a number (they are generally under 60). They say that I look great for my age (I wear stylish clothes, am not grossly overweight). Some of them say, “Really? Wow,” like I just blew their minds that someone they know could be so old.

I want this birthday to be about gratitude and how older women are having a moment, how women, in general, are having a moment, in fact. But here in the days leading up to the fire hazard which will be my birthday cake, I am not feeling like having a moment, I’m feeling like having a nap.

I think it’s the shock. I think it’s the stereotype I have in my mind of my mom (although extremely fashionable ) in pink curlers and a kerchief heading to the market, a vision of what 60 used to mean to me. Read: old.


Aging is so unoriginal. You have to do it, or you have to wear a casket. I always thought I could avoid it, like somehow being the youngest in a large extended family made me impervious. But when you’re  60, nobody is confusing you with being young anymore. I mean, if I got hit by a car and died at 59, people would say, “Oh, and she was only 59.” But if I was hit by a car and died at 60, they would say, “Well…..she was 60.”

I freaked out before 30. I freaked out before 40. I freaked out before 50. And now I am freaking out before 60. But what I have to remember is that the very day after each of those big birthdays, I felt just great. So I’m hoping the lead up is worse than the reality and you will get an empowering post about aging very soon.

Because what I want to feel about this birthday is that I am lucky as hell to have stacked up so many years, that I’m grateful about all that I have in my life, that I will gracefully go kicking ass and taking names, raising hell and having fun into my golden years. But today? Today I see pink curlers in my hair when I look in the mirror.





kondo-a-tude-a-thon day 2050: tidying up

So, the other night I was watching the Marie Kondo show on Netflix and my husband walked in. He plopped down on a chair and joined me and after a few minutes said, “This is ridiculous.”  Ridiculous or not, we both sat, transfixed by the 4’8 Japanese speaking tidying magician, who only wears white tops and looks like she might double as the tooth fairy. We watched a few segments before finding a movie, but Peter, who could care less about tidying or organizing and does not share the calmness it creates in me when things are in order, laughed about whether or not our dinner “sparked joy.”10kondo4-articleLarge-v3.jpg

The next morning, I thought I must be dreaming, when  I woke up to find Peter, who has no interest in cleaning anything, unless I literally BEG him, knee deep in the three shelf spice cabinet. “Take a look at this,” he said. “I Kondoized it!” I was happy even before coffee. On he went to the junk drawer, which very well might have been hiding Amelia Earhart. When he was done, he called me in for approval. I gave it to him. After 31 years of marriage, this was an entirely new and exciting act of foreplay.


The next day, he went on to “Marie” the shelf outside the kitchen, overburdened with cookbooks,  financial papers, eight lint rollers. On to the downstairs closet. At this point, I began googling neurological diseases that had tidying as a symptom.


He has since done the pantry cabinet, the everything-I-don’t-know-what-to-do-with-in-the-kitchen cabinet, the refrigerator, the drinks cabinet, and the tool cabinet. I’m considering sending him out on assignment and charging a small fee.


So, if you doubt that Marie Kondo has some magical powers, I can tell you that I think she might. She got my husband to do something that I haven’t been able to get him to do in three decades. And he likes it! Oh yeah, I’ve got gratitude alright, of course, if I’m not careful with it, Peter may very well tidy it right out of the house.


gratitude-a-thon day 2049: small bites friday

It’s Small Bites Friday! There hasn’t been one of these in a while! If you’ve forgotten–it’s all about some stuff I’m grateful for–in, well–small bites.


Trump is being revealed as the toddler he is. He is going to get that wall or he is taking his toys and going home! The end. I feel devastated for the federal workers who are not getting paid today because of his immaturity, but the curtain is being pulled back and behind it is a chubby three-year-old in a diaper stomping his feet.

Shhhhhh, do not tell Mother Nature, but there has been no snow, except for a few spitty flakes and it’s already January 11! Yippee!

Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez is the fucking balls! She is kicking ass and taking names. It’s just fun to watch the old white men’s faces. Yes, Joe Lieberman, she is the future of the Democratic party, so um, better figure that shit out for yourself.


R. Kelly’s time is up. What took so long? Remix used to be one of my fave songs, but now it just makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit.

Dog videos. That is all. I never thought I’d be that person, but there you have it.

My daughter is in Barcelona for the semester and she is loving every minute of it! Relief, excitement, happiness!

screen shot 2019-01-11 at 7.58.10 am

My husband walked in on me watching Marie Kondo’s show and thought it was absolutely ridiculous. The next morning I found him knee deep in the overcrowded spice cabinet and cleaning the kitchen junk drawer. The following day he hit the overcrowded shelf outside the kitchen that was practically bowing from cookbooks and financial papers, and moved onto the downstairs closet. This guy never cleans anything! TALK ABOUT SPARKING JOY!


Michael Cohen is about to go public! Sing it, sister.

to-kill-a-mockingbird-broadway.jpgNext week I am going to see one of my most favorite books ever on Broadway: To Kill a Mockingbird! best Christmas gift award.






golden-globe-a-tude-a-thon day 2048: the best and the worst of the carpet

Didja watch, didja watch? The Golden Globes were on last night and you know what that means–an accounting from someone who loves fashion, but can be found sporting workout wear the majority of the time! But hey, this is the beauty of having your own blog, you can do whatever you want!

The worst, what-were-you-thinking, I-can’t-believe-you-could-have-chosen-anything-and you-chose-this, why-didn’t-you-call-me-before-you-left-the-house girls:

Melissa McCarthy. When Mickey Mouse designs your dress.

The minute I saw this star-studded purple tragedy, all I could think of was the wizard in Fantasia. Doesn’t M.M. have a clothing line? Such a big year for her, killing her first serious role, but ugh, Melissa, will I ever forgive you? Um, probably not.


Lucy Lui, it’s elementary, you shouldn’t have worn this.

This dress is a hot mess. Those colors are hard and harsh. But what really throws this thing over for me is that overlay peignoir, superhero cape thing.

Amber, have you Heard, you should not wear your comforter out of the house.


Was it cold in L.A. last night? Because it literally looks like Amber had on a perfectly nice black strapless, but then got cold and wrapped her duvet covered comforter around her bottom.

Kate Mara, a top to bottom disaster.


First of all, that peach color washes out Kate, who is already peach colored. I could almost, actually bear the top if the bottom didn’t have that cheap lace (I’m pretty sure that came from a prom dress I wore in 1977).

Glenn Close pregnant at 71!


She is an amazing actress and her face looks really beautiful, but this dress? Does she or does she not look like she’s with child?

Judy Greer looked like she might tap dance any minute.

us globes 2341

I love a tuxedo. But this one looks like Judy went into her much bigger, taller and broader man friend’s closet (The Jolly Green Giant?) and just decided, what the heck, looks comfortable. Also the bow tie puts it into the category of silly–too big, too stiff.

Caitrona Balfe looks outlander-ish.

The top starts off ok. Black strapless–what could go wrong? But then, POOF, a satin balloon begins, topping it off with that silly between-the-boobs flower puff.

Bradley Cooper, A star is worn.


I just can’t. How did anybody let Bradley out of the house in a white prom tux with BLACK shoes on? I cannot actually imagine him looking worse.

And now, the best. And they were good.

Alison Janney. fifty fucking nine never looked so good.


Ba-bam. When Allison Janney walked onto the stage last night, I fell off the couch. The cut of that dress was more perfect than perfect. The fit, the color, that necklace–we are talking a 10 + 1,287,093.

Halle Berry is just not aging. The end.

Halle always slays and this year, she did it again. Her greatest accessory is always that slammin’ bod.

Nicole Kidman destroyed.

This dress looks painted on, it fits so well. I am not crazy in love with the color, but the simplicity and fit are bewitching.

Kiki Layne. If Beale Street Could talk, it would tell her how gorgeous she looked.


I never met a piece of tulle I didn’t like. This is a soft and stunning confection.

Lupita Nyong’o is feeling blue.


I hate the hair. Let’s just say that upfront. But I love that dress. A perfect blue/purple and then all those little beads. Just enough movement, just enough shimmer. Wakanda!