I can’t start my day with out at least 2 cups of coffee. I like to sip it in my pajamas, and watch the morning news. If I skip that part of my A.M. routine, the rest of my day just doesn’t feel right. Sometimes I have a cup for a pick-me-up in the afternoon. And there’s nothing better than some girl talk with friends over a good cup of coffee. I love the smell, I love the taste and I love the caffeine. Here’s some “girlie” things to make your coffee break even more enjoyable.
Perk your coffee in this pretty pink coffee maker from Cuisinart.
Like to grind your own fresh coffee from beans? I love this pink retro coffee mill from Kitchen Aide.
You’ll feel glamorous even if you are still in your PJs when you drink your coffee from a high heel shoe mug. Choose from several styles at the High Heel Shoe Museum on-line store. (I know, I know! High Heel Shoe Museum? I’ll save that for next week’s post.)
Savor a yummy cup of Chocolate Raspberry Coffee from Ghirardelli.
Happy percolating!
Want to join in on some Girl Talk? Post about anything girlie on your blog, let’s keep it PG-13 at least, and link back to this post. Don’t forget to sign the Mr. Linky form below and enter your post permalink. Feel free to grab the Girl Talk button and use it on your blog. I post this once a week on Thursdays, usually in the afternoon when my son is sleeping. You can link up any time between now and next Wednesday.
Happy Birthday to Me
My Birthday is just days away.
I’m turning 33.
33. On paper it’s kind of a ho-hum number with all it’s soft round curves. It’s divisible only by itself and the numbers one, three and 11. 11 is another of one those boring numbers. One more than 10, but not quiet enough to equal a nice full dozen. 33 is three years beyond the milestone age of 30, but seven long years away from 40. Seven long years to wonder if I’ll feel old at 40, or if Oprah’s right and 40 really is the new 30.
33 isn’t filled with exciting new possibilities like 16, 18 and 21. It isn’t a day filled with laughter and poking fun at yourself because you’re over-the-hill like 40, 50 and 60. It isn’t a day to look forward to peaceful years of retirement like 65. It isn’t a day when suddenly everyone sees you as wise like 70. It isn’t a day like 75 and all the birthdays after when you’re just happy to still be alive. It’s just… 33.
26 was the birthday that hit me hard. All my years growing up, 25 was, in my mind, the ideal age. I thought 25 was the age when everything all came together. 25 was pretty good, but it only lasted a year. So when 26 came around I was sad when I realized I’d never be my ideal age again.
It was also around my 26th birthday that I stopped being able to remember how old I was. Sometimes I have to really think about it. It takes some fuzzy math to come up with an answer. Am I 32? Maybe I’m already 33. I can’t remember. Lets see. I was born in 1975… 2008 minus 1975 is…, I was 18 when I graduated from high school in 1993 and my husband is two years younger than me, he’s 29 — no 30… I just turned 30 the spring after my son was born and he’s almost 3 1/2 so, um, 33, yes I’m going to be 33.
Surprisingly 30 wasn’t a difficult birthday for me at all. When I turned 30, I finally felt grown up. Like I was really an adult now. The carefree 20′s were behind me, and I was ready for real life and real responsibilities. I finally knew who I was and had enough wisdom and courage to be that person.
I’m holding on to 32 for a few more days. It sounds young the way the “oo” on the end of two rolls off the tounge. It looks young with the sharp corner and flashy straight line on the end of the 2. It says I’m still close enough to 29 to be hip and in-the-know.
It’s not that I’m afraid to get older. There’s enough hair color and Oil of Olay to stave off the physical aging process a few more years. Actually I owe a lot of my attitude about aging to my mother. I don’t remember ever hearing her lament about growing older or dreading an upcoming birthday. She’s never been embarrassed to tell anyone her age. I can’t recall her complaining about wrinkles or getting white hair. And the older she gets the younger that age seems. I once would have thought 61 was ancient. She’s anything but ancient. Age is a badge of honor to be worn proudly. All the scars, all the smiles, add up to a knowledge gained only from life’s successes and failures. A knowledge to be revered and celebrated. And learned from.
33 will pass quietly, an uneventful birthday, another tick mark on the calendar. And I’ll be dreaming of 35. Now there’s a number. Bold and strong. Neatly divisible by seven sets of five. Halfway to 40. 35 says I’ve been around the block a few times and now I really know what I’m doing.
Here’s to one more year!
In the Pink
This website is about as girlie as you can get. It combines two of my favorite things, shoes and the color pink. That’s right ladies there is an on-line store that specializes exclusively in pink shoes. Who knew? With 1608 items to choose from, the Pink Shoe Center has everything from heels to sneakers. Shipping is free both ways, so if the shoe doesn’t fit, return it without any hassle.
Want to join in on some Girl Talk? Post about anything girlie on your blog, let’s keep it PG-13 at least, and link back to this post and enter your link in the Mr. Linky form below. Feel free to grab the Girl Talk button and use it on your blog. I post this once a week on Thursdays, usually in the afternoon when my son is sleeping. You can link up any time between now and next Wednesday.
The days are getting warmer and that means reaching in the back of your closet to pull out those capris, shorts and bathing suits. That also means shaving your legs almost every day. If you live in a climate where winter requires long pants and tall boots to stay warm, you probably welcome the seasonal reprieve from daily hair removal.
When I complain about shaving my legs to my husband he’s unsympathetic, saying men have to shave their faces every day. If only it were that simple. First of all, he doesn’t always shave everyday. And if he does go out in public exposing an unshaven face, he isn’t greeted with looks of horror and disgust.
We women have to shave a good one- half of our body. It’s a lot of work, contorting into strange positions in a small bath stall to reach everything. And it can be time consuming. It also adds up to a lot of nics and razor burn over the years. How is it that a cut you didn’t even feel and can’t see, bleeds so much you wonder if you might need to visit an ER?
Well, I’ve tried a few alternatives to shaving over the years. Most with bad and/or painful results. The worst occurred when I was nine months pregnant. I pretty much quit shaving those last couple months of gestation, because it was virtually impossible to bend and twist my over-inflated body into a pretzel in the shower. Then I was scheduled for a C-Section. With the date looming, I got crazy and started worrying about how I’d look in the hospital. I painted my toe nails, brought a nice new bath robe and slippers and decided I had to do something about all the hair on my legs. I made the fateful choice to try Nair. Slick it on, wash it off. Easy, right?
Bad idea. Apparently I am allergic to Nair, because I ended up with a painful, itchy, burning rash all up and down my lower appendages. It kept me up all night, and I had to cover myself in hydro-cortisone cream the day before surgery to get some relief. When the rash went down I was still all stubbly.
Of course, now I realize the doctor’s attention was probably more focused on my exposed uterus than on my not-so-smooth legs. And once once I was blissed out Vicodin afterwards, I could barely keep my eyes open let alone remember whether or not my legs needed shaving.
A few weeks ago, I was going to shave and realized the blade on my women’s Schick Quattro was dull. I also discovered I was out of replacements. Those replacement blades are ridiculously over-priced BTW. I saw my husband’s Gillette Fusion sitting on the sink. Yes, I’ve heard you shouldn’t use your husband’s razor on your legs. But a quick check in the medicine cabinet revealed that he had plenty of extra blades to replace the one I was about to ruin.
I was worried maybe his razor would be too sharp and cut me, or maybe it wouldn’t glide right over the bumpy skin on my knees. After all, the commercials tell us how women’s razors are made especially for our curvy, delicate legs.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. It worked like a dream. With more, thinner, sharper blades it cut faster and closer. When I finished I was nic free, even on my knees. The men who manufacture razors have been holding out on us, saving the best technology for themselves. Meanwhile we’ve been slaving away, weak from blood loss with sore backs.
Hey, give us the same razor, just make it pink!
Want to join in on some Girl Talk? Post about anything girlie on your blog, let’s keep it PG-13 at least, and link back to this post and enter your link in the Mr. Linky form below. Feel free to grab the Girl Talk button and use it on your blog. I post this once a week on Thursdays, usually in the afternoon when my son is sleeping. You can link up any time between now and next Wednesday. (Sorry it’s late this this week. Had a busy day yesterday.)
Treasure Rings
I came across this new ring design in a magazine ad and loved them so much I had to look them up on line. Tammy Kohl, owner and designer of Takohl, created these Treasure Rings. The ring looks like a simple band, but a special hidden hinge allows the ring to open up and reveal an engraved message.
Engraved rings have been around for a long time, but there’s something so romantic about a “secret message”. I think it would make such a sweet wedding ring. The price is a little steep for our budget with a classic sterling silver ring starting at $495 with out any jewels. I already have a wedding ring and it’s too late for our 10th anniversary, but a girl can dream can’t she?
Pink Colored Glasses
Well, I told you last week I was obsessed with pink. I got to thinking I know a lot of women and girls out there who like pink. Why, I wondered? Is it just because some fashionista convinced us all that pink is a haute color? Nope! Not according to some researches who got together and did a study on this very question. They claim our feminine affinity for pink comes from a natural instinct to choose ripe fruit. Yep. Sometime back before Whole Foods and Super Walmart the women were in charge of searching out that food group while men hunted for meat. So we developed an eye for pinkish, reddish, purplish colors that usually signal good fruit. Hmmm. So that’s why I’m so drawn to the pink Apple IPod!
Want to join in on some Girl Talk? Post about anything girlie on your blog, let’s keep it PG-13 at least, and link back to this post and enter your link in the Mr. Linky form below. Feel free to grab the Girl Talk button and use it on your blog. I post this once a week on Thursdays, usually in the afternoon when my son is sleeping. You can link up any time between now and next Wednesday.
So I have two things for Girl Talk this week. First I’m going to do a little show and tell and talk shamelessly about myself.
Honey Can you Turn that Down? The House is on Fire!
This is what I look like when I have my contacts in.
But I rarely wear my contacts now. There was a time I wouldn’t be seen in public with my glasses on. I still had silly adolescent insecurities about being a four-eyes. Motherhood changed that.
All sorts of strange things happen to you after giving birth. All you moms out there know what I’m talking about. And it’s more than just your feet growing a whole shoe size. I wore contacts all most every day for 15 years with out any problems before my son was born. But now they get so uncomfortable after an hour or two that I only wear them for special occasions. How being pregnant caused that I can not explain. But it did.
Well, I got new glasses last week, because my old ones had been pulverized by my son so many times that the lenses wouldn’t stay in anymore no matter how tight the screws were.
These are my old glasses.
These are my new glasses.
When I came home from the eye doctor Saturday my husband and son were watching an NCAA playoff game. I was pretty excited about my stylish new glasses, hoping they made me look intelligent, hip and interesting rather than old and boring. I personally think there’s quite a bit of difference between the old and new frames. However neither my husband or son noticed! I was all ready for compliments. All I got was, “What’s there to eat?” When the game ended I asked, “Notice anything different?” I just got blank stares. When I finally pointed them out my husband said, “Oh, yeah.” And my son asked, “Can I play with them?”
The next morning I went to the Women’s Bible Study at my church. I barely got in the door before five different women who I see once, maybe twice a week mentioned my glasses and complimented me on them.
This a great illustration of one of the differences between men and women. If the game’s on, most men wouldn’t notice the glasses let alone that the house was burning down around them. On the other hand, women would notice the new glasses even if their their team was down by one point and in possession of the ball with 13 seconds left on the clock and the house was burning down around them. Am I right ladies? Guys, especially my dear husband and son, I’m not bashing you. We’re just different, that’s all. It’s O.K. to be different.
I came across the Shabby Apple on line recently. I love their pretty, feminine dresses. And they’re as easy to wear as they are cute.
Owners Emily and CK started Shabby Apple when they couldn’t find stylish dresses that were still modest and comfortable to wear. And they were tired of having to wear tank tops underneath everything for extra coverage. While the word modest might make you think frumpy, their designs are anything but.
I love Buttoned-Up with pin tucking detail on the bodice.
How about Duck Beach with the flirty bow? Perfect for a spring stroll in the park.
Wow them at night in Sabrina. Black satin with a tulle slip peeking out below. In the back Satin-covered buttons unbutton all the way down to the waist.
I like Shabby Applebecause their dresses are classic and subtle, but still stylish and sexy. At 32 with a toddler in tow, I’d look ridiculous dressed like Lindsey Lohan. But I don’t want to dress like my grandmother either. It seems like it’s difficult to find anything in between these days.
I’m definitely adding Shabby Apple to my shopping list this spring!
I live in a house with a three year old boy and a thirty year old man. There’s a lot of grunting, swaggering and strange bodily functions. And that’s just the 30 year old.
My son is working on potty training right now. I have to tell you, I really never wanted to know that much about male bathroom habits. And we’ve had one too many discourses about what a penis is, what it does and why you should just leave “it” alone unless you’re peeing. Of course I haven’t told him the whole story of what “it” does. I think that can wait a few years.
Dont get me wrong. I love having a son. At this age he’s still teetering between being a rambunctious boy and that sweet little baby I once held. The glimpse I get into the male psyche every day is fascinating as I try to be his playmate and function in his boy world. Watching him grow and develop has taught me a lot about what makes these male creatures tick. One moment I can see the snips and snails and puppy dog tails. But in an instant he’s as sweet as sugar, curled up on my lap for a long snuggle saying, “Mommie, I love you, ” as he sighs contentedly and relaxes into my arms. He can be as tender as he is tough. As vulnerable as he is strong.
Oh, but some days, I think it might be nice to have a little girl to even out the score. And this time of year especially, there’s a little part of me that longs for a girl. Why? So I can buy all those frilly, flowery, polka-dotted, pink confections that they sell in the children’s clothing department in the spring. I loved to wear dresses like that when I was little. If they made them in my size, I probably still would. (O.K., so I’d look ridiculous. Like a big, pink Goodyear blimp, but I’d feel like a princess.) And to have a tea party! And dress up dolls and sip from delicate china cups. The closest I get now is telling my son that if he doesn’t stop slamming his teddy bear over the head with his sippey cup the lid will fly off and make a mess.
My husband says I am obsessed with all things pink. I admit it. I am obsessed. Last week I bought some household cleaner just because it was pink. Did it clean well? Turns out it did, but that really wasn’t in my top three reasons for picking it up off the shelf at the time. It also has a cute label and smells good. (Marketing executives love me.)Sometimes, I just need to surround myself with pink, feminine things. Something to take me out of wiping up the splatters around the toilet and sliding across the kitchen floor on Matchbox cars.
So all that to say Thursday’s at Mommie Daze are going to be reserved for some Girl Talk. A day to revel in all things pink and female and poofy. Put on your tiara, grab your fanciest mug, fill it up with some sickeningly sweet chocolate-flavored coffee drink, and join me for some Girl Talk.
