gratitude-a-thon day 2074:the fight is on

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Don’t blame me if I’m a little giddy this morning, that I woke up smiling, that life seems damn sweeter on this day.

Yeah, I kind of love when someone gets what they deserve, gets called out.  Donald J. Trump, the-liar-in-chief, the xenophobe, misogynist, LGBQT-hating, white supremacist-loving, name-calling, dictator-like, media-detesting, emolument-abusing, “grab ’em by the pussy,” Hillary-hating, “I can do it because I’m president,” election-stealing, bully, with the fifteen word vocabulary and the mannequin-like wife who wears her emotions on her clothes, instead of working on any first lady initiatives (oh, sorry, she has her “Be Best” anti-bullying initiative, which ignores the largest bully in the country). might possibly be getting his hands slapped. Finally. Fucking finally.

Yes, I know that the Teflon Don has had every accusation slide off him like a kid on a sled glides down a snowy hill, but this just might stick. This just might be the moment when his bad behavior gets him in the naughty chair. Permanently.

Yes, I’m watching the developments carefully, happily, GLEEFULLY. Karma, baby. Gratitude.

 

 

the bad-it-tude-athon red carpet: day 2073

Ok, that was one of the ugliest red carpet’s ever. I cannot unsee what I have seen. My eyes are asking for rehab this morning.

The Worst. No, really, THE WORST.

Gwendolyn CHRIST-ie

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So, this looked like something Jesus might wear to dinner, or like the last supper, for maybe a formal event, a black tie wedding or you know maybe a dressy holiday work party with the disciples.

Kendall Jenner. The When-You’re-a-Model-You-Can-Wear-Anything Hoax.

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She’s long and willowy and gorgeous, but c’mon, this get-up–I’m not buying it. And I’m also not buying it. The dress part is pretty, but the latex turtleneck with the dress part is a definite nuh-uh. Michelle Pfeiffer called and she wants the top half of her Catwoman costume back.

Greta Lee, The green queen.

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Greta looked like she just parachuted in from Emerald City. Dorothy, why didn’t you tell her? 

Dasha PolancNO.

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Everything was going swimmingly, and then someone decided to put these pink wings on the poor girl. I’m guessing she wished she could have flown away.

Christina Applegate was dead to me.

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I love Christina. I love her so much, it pains me to say how terribly bad this dress was. But did nobody look at her boobs before she left the house? It’s that sheer-fabric-over- solid-fabric thing that can happen.

Amy Adams. From funeral to red carpet.

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Condolences to the family. This black peignoir was the worst.

Vera Farmiga for The Conjuring.

So, it turns out that Vera took her inspiration from a movie she made a few years ago. And yes, it was scary.

 

Zowie Kazan, can that dress.

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I feel like that black dress under there was good, but then the clowns came in.

Niecy Nash, Table for Three.

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She is curvy and proud of it, but I was anxious one of those girls was going to do a Jack-in-the-Box thing at any moment. Clear the first row, wardrobe malfunction.

 

Natasha Lyonne shoulda been Russian to get that dress off.

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“I can’t believe our little Leonard has become a man. I love a good bar mitzvah. Pass me the pigs in a blanket, wouldja, dahling?”

The good ones, and you’re going to make your meeting, because there weren’t too many.

MJ Rodriguez strikes a Pose.

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Now that’s a dress. I love the proportions and those black bows are everything. Simply styled and beautifully worn.

Phoebe Waller-Bridge should be the new Disney princess–smart, sassy and funny as fuck.Phoebe-Waller-Bridge

I love the dress. I love the woman. She can write and she can act. And apparently, she can also dress. I wish she’d had on her signature red lipstick, though.

Naomi, Watts black dead gorgeous.

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Oh, swoon, love, sigh. I give it a 1,398,087 on a scale of 1-10.

 

It’s black and white, Kerry Washington wears the pants on the carpet

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Simple lines, but blingy, too. Love those bangs. There’s no gray area–this is simply gorgeous.

 

 

 

gratitude-a-thon day 2072: mind altering

 

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Some days it’s easy for me to wrap myself in gratitude–noticing the tiniest of things–a person who holds a door for me, the garden outside my house, the way my dog’s fur feels. Other days, my mind clamps onto something negative and it permeates my thoughts and colors me dark and stormy.

Staying positive is a task. Feeling gratitude takes time. What I mean is we have to slow down to notice what it is that’s good. Gratitude is adept at hiding if you’re going over the speed limit. It demands your attention. Sometimes I have to put it on my TO DO list to remind myself to head for the light in a methodical way that wakes me and shakes me to the rightness of the world. But the thing is, if you’re woke to this trick, it can actually change your mind. Check out this article and some of the work done at University of California, Davis that shows scientific data on how gratitude can actually alter our heads for the better.

 

 

 

 

 

gratitude-a-thon day 2071:when your fantasy all of a sudden becomes real

 

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Ever get really sick and then when you’re better you just look at the world like it’s all new again? I had a virus for the last few weeks that kicked my ass around the block. It had me in bed panting for air, coughing like a smoker and aching like a prize fighter. And the exhaustion–I sincerely wondered if I might have actually died and nobody informed me.

Anyway, look at the flowers! (Ok, so they’re on their way out, but right this minute, they’re walking the runway and flaunting their wares like the supermodels of the 80’s–still obsessed with Linda Evangalista’s short do, but I digress…). My hydrangea runneth over. But what’s really extraordinary and the absolute show stopper is my clematis (no, not my clitoris), my gorgeous climbing tiny white flowered vine. I have always been madly in love with this flower. I have also always wanted an arched arbor with this flower smothering it in blooms. Always. Like forever.

And now I have one of my very own, thanks to my super sweet sister Susan, who gave this to me as a gift (and it was such a surprise because she went to my landscape genius and had it delivered)! and of course the amazing Brandy at Faithful Flowers. She’s been guiding my vivacious vine to climb like it’s part of a Mount Everest adventure group. I just want to sit in my tiny backyard and stare at it. It won’t last long, but it’s nice when a dream comes out of your head and into your real life. Clematitude.

 

gratitude-a-thon day 2071: off to college

I remember being pregnant (which only took me three years to accomplish and a total of 12 months of being nauseous) and slowly experiencing the dramatic changes my body was going through. The way my stomach began to protrude, how I kept spilling out of my bras, the heavy exhaustion I would feel and that deep coma like nap I would fall into daily. Oh, and the cravings: McDonald’s french fries, fettuccine alfredo and watermelon.

I think there’s something in there that correlates to sending your child off to college. You shed part of your mommy skin as you drop them at the door of a whole new world in much the same way that you shed your old body when you were carrying, around your child inside you.

Pregnancy both excited and terrified me (it also, did I mention,  made me nauseous, very, very nauseous). On the one hand, I deeply wanted a baby and on the other hand, I had no idea what being a mom might be like, or if I had the capacity to even pull off such a feat. I had no understanding of what I might be giving up in order to make this new person part of my life and yet, I knew I had to, I knew something deep within me desperately and fervently wanted a child.

It’s not that different when you take your child to college that first time. It’s both exciting and terrifying. On the one hand you deeply want your baby to experience this new phase, be able to take this important step toward freedom and adulthood, but at the same time you wonder if they have the capacity to do so. And you also wonder if you have the capacity to do so….

For all you new college parents, for all you first time empty nesters, it’s going to be alright. I got one through and the other is going into her senior year. GRATITUDE! You will cry. You will begin to talk baby talk to your dog. You will wonder why the laundry detergent is lasting so long.

You will have dozens of emotions and they will keep changing, just like your body did when you were carrying around that kid in your womb. The thing I can tell you is that the process keeps changing, too. And you and your child keep changing with it. Just when you get used to one phase, it will morph into another (just like when you got used to being a mom of babies, you were suddenly a mom of toddlers and then pre-schoolers, then…well, you know how it goes).

Be kind to yourself as you undergo the changes that come with that tiny baby being out of your nest. Just like they couldn’t stay in your body forever, they can’t stay in your home forever. And truly, this move, this change means all that you did, preparing them to go out into the bigger world for all those years, worked. They will learn a lot at college. And so will you.

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gratitude-a-thon day 2070: the mammogram

 

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Today I had my yearly mammogram. I do what I always do before I have it.

I plan my funeral.

There are a few decent reasons I do this. 1) I have had cystic breasts since I got these girls, which means they tend toward cysts, so you have to be alert because a benign cyst can masquerade as a cancerous one. Happy Halloween. 2) I take a small amount of HRT, on account of menopause for me was no fun at all (as most everything that has had to do with my lady parts has not been my whole fucking life), so I chose to up my risks for all sorts of maladies and take this small amount of hormone, in order for me not to be road ragey in every day life or wind up the crazy lady in aisle five. 3) I’m generally anxious about stuff like this just because that’s how we roll in my family (You shoulda met my dad).

So, there’s some legit reason for me to be nervous before sticking my boobs in a machine that squishes them so hard, I can feel it in my feet, while being asked not to breathe. I can barely breathe anyway, because of the contorted positions I’m in, but also because I’m so damn scared. I mean, if ever there was a candid camera situation, this one is it. I have to hand it to the radiation techs for not howling with laughter looking over at us with our arms in the air and our boobs between plexiglass while holding our breath. Sort of a Lady Liberty pose.

Today I had the extra delight of having a lymph node under my arm ultra sounded because it has been sore and swollen for the last month. This was another good reason to plan my final resting phase, since it could not only have meant that I had breast cancer, but also some kind of blood cancer. So, a sort of two for one there.

My funeral will be a Shabby Chic affair. Expect a lot of white, and definitely only white flowers, except for carnations and lilies, because they are hideous and remind me of funerals, except for not mine. There will be pine and Mason Jars. Mongolian fur throws, white twinkly lights and for God’s sakes comfortable chairs. There will also be a nice Rose being handed out at the door. That’s for color.

Yes, as you guessed, my mammogram was just fine. My girls will live to see another year. And my lymph node is also nothing to worry about. “They can just swell up sometimes, ” said the radiologist who I’ve been seeing for decades and who I have so much gratitude for because of her gently way and her keen eye. She currently has a woodchuck in her garden, which is really something to worry about.

gratitude-a-thon day 2069: weather

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It’s Saturday morning and I am sprawled out on the couch on my patio under a blanket looking up at the perfectly blue sky. God, it’s vast. The sun is large and in charge and there is the most gorgeous cool breeze rustling through the trees, making a soothing, calming sound that if you could package, you could sell as natural valium in the vitamin/beauty products aisle at Whole Foods. This would be part of my presidential platform–to create this weather 365 days a year (hey, it’s seems about as realistic as gun reform at this point, so why not shoot for the stars).

In centuries past, the weather had a huge impact on people’s livelihoods and productivity, i.e. farmers and their crops. But for me it has a huge impact on my mood. A day like this is everything good. A day like this brings on gratitude from every pore.