Windy City

Nope, not Chicago.  Right here in Saint Petersburg, on the 29th floor, I watched as our furniture danced along the balcony.  I raced out there, attempted to grab the chair on the corner and I darn near blew over the railing.  I shrieked, turned on my heel and bounded back inside.

This furniture is heavy.  I am heavy.  We were at risk out there.  Meanwhile, as the wind screams past our floor to ceiling windows my husband, the gifted sleeper that he is, snoozes blissfully.  Little does he know his wife, clutching a cast aluminum swivel chair, almost blasted into the Tampa Bay.


That giant bowl weighs 512 pounds.  Right now it’s filled with ballpoint pens (Jim uses them for his daily crossword) and rainwater.  Pens and rainwater are swirling violently, counterclockwise.   On whitecaps.

Exciting in a terrifying way.



As I have mentioned I love cute stationery and writing letters.  Sending postcards lights me up.  Applying stamps, dropping notes in the mailbox, picturing the happy recipients–it all makes me smile.

Recently I was yakking with buddy Karen on the phone.  She commented that she had gotten my newsy note.  I glowed, waiting for her praise.

But NOOOO.  She laughed and said, “You have the WORST ever handwriting.  I plan to send you a tablet like the kids use in elementary school.   You know, the lined stuff that shows how tall to make uppercase letters and how short to do lower case.  And you need to close your d’s, b’s, a’s—well, pretty much all your words are too sloppy to read.”

So I sent her another note.

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War Paint

I began wearing makeup in tenth grade.  Each morning I would carry my white leatherette cosmetics case to the Formica kitchen table.  While Mom made my breakfast, I’d sit in the northern light and apply a little eyeliner, brown shadow and mascara.  When my “artwork” was complete my mother often commented, “You should sign your chin!”

Once my boyfriend insisted there was no way I needed makeup.  Our following date I met him at the door barefaced.  He suggested I hurry back upstairs and put on some eyes.

All told I have over fifty years of coloring a face on the front of my head every morning.  Then at night scrubbing it off thinking, “There go ten minutes of my life, right down the drain.”

My sister Marilyn knows I adore new makeup.  This past birthday she sent me a big Sephora box filled with TEN new mascaras!  The one I’m now using is the smallest pale pink tube.  Its name is “Better than Sex” mascara.  (It is good, but that claim might be aggrandizing.)



My current routine is to sit in the second bedroom at my work table.  The table is situated in a huge window. It’s masochistic to greet each day looking at my sixty-seven-year-old mug in a magnifying mirror.  But it’s what I do. My war paint is hidden in two decorative wooden boxes.

Here follow the nine steps to make my face:

  1. Sunscreen.  Marilyn gave me a new tinted one. I like it.
  2. Cover up.  Under the eyes.  By the ancient nose.  On my eyelids.
  3. Neutrogena Foundation.  I have to use all fragrance-free products and my old face likes this one best.
  4. Blush.  Again, Neutrogena.
  5. Lancome Blond Eyebrow pencil. Unless my brow dye is still intact.  It is currently quite intact because I recently dyed the brows.  After painting on the dye I got busy and forgot to wipe it off.  My normally see-through brows ended up the color of Michelle Obama’s.  A great look on Michelle.  On me?  Not so much.
  6. Urban Decay pencil eyeliner.  The color varies.
  7. Eyeshadow in several shades.
  8. Next, smudge the eyeliner and shadow with a small brush.
  9. Then time for mascara.  Before all the other paint was applied I shoved my mascara tube into my bra so it’s all warm and easy to apply.  Weird?  Yes.  But I read that tip while at the doctor’s office perusing Style Magazine.  It works.
  10. Last of all, lipstick.  Lately, I’m liking No 7 Moisture Drench by Boots.   But I have zero brand loyalty about lipstick.






Note the lottery tickets on the right-hand side of this photo.  For my next glorious manifestation, I intend to win the lottery.  I began buying tickets about a month ago. My budget is $4 a week. So far I’ve won back $5.  But it’s just a matter of time before the giant windfall, folks!  The power of positive thinking is a thing of beauty.

When the win happens I’ll be sure to blog about it!  Meanwhile, time to settle my wide backside into a chair and read this.  Jane, my brilliant published author friend gave me this book.  Maybe some of the magic will rub off on me.20181203_153901.jpg