You may wish you brought a magazine.

This is as Farm to Table as I get.  Just sayin'.

I don't know if this happens to guys, but with women, the longer you wait to pee is directly proportional to the amount of time it then takes to actually pee. Basically, the longer you wait, the longer it takes. Such is the nature of my blogging this season and I have been slacking in my duties related to rambling mind-blasts about life as a podunk princess. So we may be here a while.

Maybe I'll work in short blasts. Ironically, I don't have the necessary mental flow to write a tell-all. I can only swing from storyvine to storyvine - like oh yeah, I started a new job and love love love love love love love love love it. See, you thought this post was going to be about BOOBIES... nope! I am about to complete my first month as the Content and Earned Media Specialist at the Ithaca / Tompkins County Convention and Visitors Bureau and I am ecstatic. Did I mention how much I love it?

Who knows? Maybe this blog will morph into a kind of parallel universe to VisitIthaca.com. Ithaca is GORGES (and Tompkins County - and a little into Seneca - lol) and I have a million and five reasons why I am so freaking lucky to live in - and now work for! - Ithaca and the Finger Lakes.

Just please don't ask me to cook you a farm-to-table meal. I think of granola as an ingredient.

I love where I live.  It really is GORGES.

A New Addition to the Collection

It's nice to have friends think of me AFTER they drink the wine.

The Robes

Thank God our mother's name wasn't Anita!

My sister and I are embracing the awkwardness! And sending a huge "thank you" to Mike and Doug - the co-founders of Awkward Family Photos - for supporting Team Winston Cup-Cakes and making us feel like rock stars with a heartfelt donation for our fundraising efforts.. Who would've thought that one 1970's Kodak Instamatic rounded-corner photo of our parents in some goofy, personalized robes would become a Saturday Night Special???

The fact the photograph still exists in tact is awesome. Of course, there is still some "sisternternal" debate about whose holiday-spirited, fun-loving idea it was to have our parents pose in their new swag, but who cares - who doesn't LOVE fluffy new robes???  and it was the 70's. Maybe they they could have opted for something less teeheehee for our Dad. Our friends snickered. We snickered. Bottom line. Sorry, Dad. But do they even still have Dick as a souvenir license plate keychain magnet option anymore? Zena was a challenge enough when it came to cheap crap. Rare find for such a beautiful name. But then came Xena Warrior Princess. Can I just say: "Thanks for nothing there!" ???

Dick. Our Dad was a Dick. Dick Winston. Sooooooo Mad Men. He drove a Dadillac, he played golf, he loved The Odd Couple, he took his kids bowling. Our Dad was anything but a dick... he was Daddy... but I digress. Everything you need to know about him is right here... well, there on that link that says "Daddy".

A few years ago, I submitted the photograph of "the robes" (above)  to Awkward Family Photos, and only by chance noticed they used it. That called for some serious sister cyber-bonding - lots of virtual high-fives, more snickers, lots of likes and shares, and a permagrin. I wonder if I can put it on my resume!

We were recently - personally! - asked by the AFP guys to allow said photo into 2013 Holiday Edition, and that has made us ridiculously giddy.  I thought it was a hoax at first, but it is for real and it really was Mike and... and... and... everyone's getting Awkward Family Photo's Third Annual Holiday Edition for the 2013 Holidays. Done!

Happy Valentines Day a little late... oh, and this is Zena.

Just a quickie: A photograph of our mother that night ended up in a 1962 copy of Women's Wear Daily. I still have it.  There's my "cool fact" for the night. Yup, from Park to Podunk. Permagrin.

I Pink I Can I Pink I Can

In case you just got here...

It's a pink pink pink pink pink pink (and shimmery black, and sometimes glowing Tahitian Pearl) world, and if you thought you were sick of cupcakes before they became more popular than Jesus, just wait! 

DC in May, 2012 was amazing, but NYC in October, 2013 is gonna be (no word actually exists yet). Our team Winston Cup-Cakes (get it?) is going to walk more in one weekend than we have collectively walked over the entire span of our childhoods - and semi-adult lives - in New York City. I think "taxi" was my first word. And it's been a really long time since I stood on a street corner and asked strange men for money.

NYC OCTOBER 2013... or bust?

Cryogenic Cold Hits Podunk

It's cryogenically cold. 

The snow is pretty, but troublesome.

Cover your body parts or lose 'em.

So happy February is a short month.

Dodger digs the show. Not!

I get to live here.

I have snowshoes.

And lots of hats. And gloves.

It's really cold.

Podunk Princess. Score.

Yup, from Park Avenue to Podunk Road.

Where spoodles run free.

I love where we live. I just hate being cold.

A keeper.  I mean, what else is there to do?

 

See you in March.

So Much Said in Listening

"Songs to aging children come, aging children, I am one" -  Joni Mitchell

2013 already? I can't even remember I have a customer on hold - how am I going to remember to write "13"?  Time is flying and we're about to pay extra baggage fees. NO Zappos. NO Sephora. NO Athleta. No travel. I'm not even getting the shiny (read: not salt-eaten) new muffler I've been holding out for, so yeah, sorry, that noise is me. I am now "one of those" cars. I've also resorted to diluting my wiper fluid. Quite the pennysaver, I am! Although I go through twice as much...

Can't believe it's been so long since I've blogged. But if you're a Facebook friend or find me Pinteresting, you're probably up to speed. I've been very busy being not busy... not! Confused? Join my club. My head is spinning with work, and life, and fracking, and bills, and training for the Avon Walk (come on and get it over with so I can get some fundraising "attaboys" from Avon - I love free shit!), and celebrating 12 years with the love of my life (so all you stalkers can just go to Plan B).

*get those tissue boxes* The most significant moment this new year was in the beginning of January - a day I knew was coming - when I outlived my mom. I made it to 46 years, 9 months, and 2 weeks. That was a pretty intense doorway. It was incredible. I felt like Tommy breaking through the mirror!

And I am going to stop because that's another post. Or two.

This photo was taken by a friend on the day I outlived my mom. This friend just happens to live near Jamaica, Queens. 5 hours away. And lemme tell ya, my mom is tucked way back in there. So file under "Mind Officially Blown". I love you, Christine!

I Got My Nuts From a Hippie...

Post-Halloween regrets? Well, I ate a whole bag of Brach's Autumnal Mix Candy Corn. The weighty little bag never made it out of my glove compartment. And I forgot to take a photo of the pumpkins with green nipples, so I owe you one for the collection. That was over the course of the week, though. They were really good, too. I love sugar. Sugar loves me back, but with a sneaky, enabling motive. I am so proud of myself for not plowing through a bag(s) of frozen Snickers this year. Like the last 36 Halloweens.

I also pre-programmed every single broadcast of VH-1's Quadrophenia Special on Direct TV for the next few weeks. File under HELL YEAH I WANT TO INTERRUPT. I just can't take the images and stories of Sandy's legacy. This hurricane and the aftermath.  It's horrific. I'm just too squeamish for real life. I'm going to go get lost in The Who whenever I can Anyway... Anyhow... Anywhere.  And if that means pre-programming a one-hour special to appear on my TV a few times a day, I'll take it.

This is the year of Quadrophenia, and hopefully a lot less people will ask me what my license plate (since 1988) means.What is it about Quadraphonia? It charges me and calms me and carries me back to the beach - The Hamptons, but that was quite a summer. Quadrophenia is in my bloodstream... Pete's recorded sea runs through my veins. And there's nothing in life a little Live at Leeds can't cure. Even the Summertime Blues. Although I'm kinda mad at Pete for not writing more about In the Attic with/and Rachel Fuller in his memoir. In the Attic is just so freaking brilliant. Go download Rachel Fuller's version of Joni Mitchel's "Blue" on iTunes or The Fratelli's "Got My Nuts From a Hippie" . And of course now I cannot get that song out of my head 'cause I got my nuts from a hippy in a camper van Saturday night.... but that's alright, yeah that's alright...

Note to those who see me driving around singing my head off - this week's melodic obsession: Katy Perry's "Firework". After watching the viral video of Katy perform with the sweet autistic girl, I downloaded the song and now it's completely taken over my brain. I'm even sketching it out on the harmonica.  Be afraid. Be very afraid....'cause baby you're a Firewooooooooork....

Schzophrenic?  I'm bleeding Quadrophenic.

So what do you want... a medal or some new and improved silicone boobs to pin it on?

16 year ago today I hit Hyperspace and landed in Ithaca. I was 30. I was single. I had hair. I knew basically no one. I wanted to have fun Nuff said. All the better to "restart", turning over a new leaf - a Cornell loose-leaf (pretending to be a Cornell student made me feel less conspicuous) at the crunchy cool cafes, and meeting people who really do become family. Wow, I hope they know that.

Today, to celebrate that game changing, life-altering leap of faith, I am glued to the televised Wrath of Hurricane Sandy while cursing our own crappy storm windows. I hope we don't end up needing what we don't really have. It's been a cozy day at home with The Who Live at Kilburn on DVD, and Jimmie Johnson's magical day at Martinsville Speedway. And I am getting back into beading, I spread years of beads and silver and tarnishing silver spacers and bright findings and rusting tools (and candy wrappers?) out on a sheet on the warm carpet and I got myself into a "make something beautiful" state of mind. What hurricane?

And I missed my dad.  This is his favorite time of year to visit me - when he wasn't heading to Lake George, he was piloting the Dadillac to the Finger Lakes.

Wow. 16 years ago today, I waved a long, heartbreaking good-bye New Paltz, and moved what belongings didn't make it into a storage unit to my new Ithaca address on street I had never seen before. It had a crooked stop sign and limited parking options. But my room (read: space) was funky cool and kinda round and I had nice sunset view. And I was only 5 hours from my dad. Welcome to Ithaca.  I spent my first night not even knowing the name of the street I lived on. I didn't  know whose mattress I was "borrowing" either. 16 years ago today, it rained. And I had a new area code.

Since I moved here, I've made friends upon friends upon friends and lovers and more friends and lovers and maybe friends' lovers - so maybe a few enemies - but most importantly, I made peace with my decision to put the past behind me and move on.

Happy Sweet 16, Dad.

My Sweet 16, 1982

When Pets ARE the Costume! | PetMeds Blog

HALLOWEEN 2010

Sorry, buddy, we ate all the candy.

How about some yummy raisins? Or this fly swatter?

When Pets ARE the Costume! | PetMeds Blog

or even better...  and it NEVER gets old... courtesy of The Onion

 http://youtu.be/1taC3JjIOkM

Happy Birthday, Lisa!

Today is my sister's birthday. She's older than me, that's all you need to know. She's also smarter than me. And she has a better voice. And she has an awesome daughter (of legal drinking age???), something I will never have. I'm sure at one time I wanted one - a daughter, I mean - but right now I'll just settle for having (a) life.

Because today is also the day I celebrate the 7th anniversary of my last "drip trip" in 2005. The last afternoon I sat in hospital recliner with bright, (how'd you like a) Hawaiian Punch pink poison snaking into my hand via plastic tubing, my hair already gone gone gone, and the chemicals in the concoction turning my blood ice cold. I can't remember the name of that one chemical, but I call it the "brain freezer" and I still cringe when I remember that surge of icy discomfort course through my (then) 96 lb body. And I still get phantom pains on the top of my hand where the chemo nurses sought a few good veins.

October is a big month in our family. We celebrate life. And we blow out a LOT of candles - well my sister does anyway... :)

Happy Birthday, Lisa.  I love you from the bottom of my (younger) heart.

Skipper & Slouch - The Golden Years

Here we are.  Me and dodger.  Dodger and me.  In the backyard.  I'd always wanted a backyard.  And a dog like Dodger to enjoy it with.  And that towel.  I really love a well-made towel.

Oliver's still in PetMeds "I'm too sexy for my rabies tag" mode - having our own blog at 1-800-PetMeds is awesome  but it's going to his stinky little head. (Are you following them on their journey to stardom?)  But I gotta say, the 1-800-PetMedsVitachews seem to be working wonders on my little ten year old comet. Zero to sixty across our land when he sees a squirrel.

Welcome to a life - or what I remember to write about it - that might make you smile, cry, share, support, change a twenty, hug your mom, adopt a dog or two, get a mammogram... whatever moves you - I hope I can make a difference - anyway, anyhow, anywhere.

Whaddya You Wanna Be When You Grow Up?

First and foremost, if you are not following the Adventures of Skipper and Slouch, you are missing out on some serious cuteness. As Mick Jagger cooed "if you really want to be my frieeeend..." please subscribe to my newest creative outlet on PetMeds Blogs. I feel like a mime who falls in the forest does he make sound?  (or something like that).

Second, if you see those people from Complete Makeover Home Edition, could you please send them my way?  Basically I would really love office/work/crafts/relax/scream space. And it would be cool if someone could hook up my stereo while they were here. Then I can start selling some of my massive CD collection and designer clothes and bags and old books and shit i just don't need anymore...cause I'm saving up for an RV and you can't stop me. Anyone want to make me an offer on this OOP Best of Tim Curry CD?

No, really... I am really trying to trim down everywhere.  New motto is "if it won't fit in the RV, I don't need it." I'm working on my future... more or less. Maybe not that paint scheme.

But I hear the road calling!

Don't give me that "wrong number" shit...

It's All About the R-I-D-E! | PetMeds Blog

It's All About the R-I-D-E! | PetMeds Blog

Summer Sunday and a Year...

This weekend I drove five hours to hug a friend - two friends actually!  And it was totally worth every mile.  Although it may not feel like it right now... I'm fighting the ache to be at The Glen - less than 20 miles from where I write at this very moment - under this Fat Old Sun on a Summer Sunday in the beautiful Finger Lakes... oh oh driver introductions... jeff gordon looks awesome... cute kids...

So I've psyched myself up for Race Day here at Porcupine Farm, watching it on TV, lovin' up my boys, catching up with my laundry, and ya know what?  I can do this... be here now and not ache to be somewhere else. I am really trying to work on that. Focus on now... not then, not when, no blame, no excuses (except chemobrain... I am totally allowed to use chemobrain!), and no expectations... well maybe low expectations because I like being pleasantly surprised. And my "low expectations" for today (thinking how sad I would be to not be at the race) are nicely waxing into the sights and sounds of ESPN - oh wait - National Anthem... nice flyover... great driver (and CUTE BABY!!!) close ups... engines started... radio chatter... I'll actually be able to see the "bus stop" battles... and I can kinda see our farm when the Goodyear blimp shares its photos! 43 drivers, 90 laps, driving 5 hours - more or less. A lot can happen in 5 hours. (and if Clint Bowyer wins this race, that would be something!)  And a lot can happen in 30 years.

A good friend is going through a tough time, having to make decisions no suddenly-single, ridiculously hard-working, amazingly loving mother should have to make in a world that hurries by so quickly. We've been friends since 1984. We met at summer camp - only 15 miles from where we were able to reconnect just yesterday - along the Delaware River. I'd actually been planning this for months... but planning is such a relative term... so this past Friday, I plugged a Narrowsburg, NY, (or was it Beach Lake, PA?) address into the GPS and started my engine. I made ipod shuffle my Magic 8 Ball and headed off to see my friends... "you and I have memories, longer than the road that stretches out ahead", "people hurry by so quickly, don't they hear the melody", "makes much more sense to live in the present tense", "the queen of light took her bow and then she turned to go", "the closer i am to fine..." - I write all my driving "playlists" down in case you need the script (read: movie rights).

I'm sure there are 1000 ways I could've been better prepared - like getting over my fear of food, considering I plunked myself down right in the middle of a huge food festival - but I didn't think about that.  Sure, my 2002 CR-V (129K) is prepared for the Zombie Apocalypse - bottled water, Luna Bars, sunblock, bug repellent, blankets, tarps, towels, bungees, flashlights, pillows, a tent, hand-me-down copies of New Yorker (great article on Linguistic Forensics last week!), more bungees, some folding chairs, fake flowers, a pink feather boa, The Illustrated Stories of Hans Christian Andersen (great tattoo ideas), and extra wiper fluid.  See, I'm totally prepared.

I just wasn't prepared for the complete overwhelmosis of my own insecurities from the past 48 hours. I felt useless. I got homesick.

And it totally broke my heart to see this just-turned 4 year-old so profoundly - and understandably - sad... confused tears turning her eyelashes into dewy little flower petals that not even my pink feather butterfly fascinator could dry. Helpless, helpless... there was nothing I could do to make Sunny Lemon Tina smile. Even worse, there was little I could do to relieve my friend's pain. I hate that feeling.

Long story short (if you're still here)... in lieu of attending a race, I got to hug Heather. And I got to hug Abby. And those two hugs alone were worth the five hour drive. Sunny Lemon Tina will be okay... and so will I.

You're probably thinking "ummmmmm, where is she going with this?".  To tell you the truth I have no idea... I just know that I will "never spend my guitar or my pen".

Maybe someday I'll write about it.

Bring on the Dog Days of Summer!

So what did I do my Summer Vacation?  I stressed myself into a cotton candy corner worrying about balancing work and play. Work wins. Now that I am a student at PetMeds University, majoring in Freelance Writing, with a minor in Blogging, I eat, sleep, and breath glucosamine for joint health and Omega 3 fatty acids for healthy coat and skin. :) Don't get me wrong - I am floored and supremely flattered. I am also a disorganized procrastinator who is too hard on herself, and being an ADD-saddled perfectionist doesn't help.  I just need to get over it and get back to my commitment to "strive for progress, not perfection" (thank you, Pinterest!)

It's new work, fun work, educational work... but work is work, and anything with a deadline makes me sweat. Like hot flash sweat. So PLEASE just read/subscribe/justify my existence on this planet by diggin' my 1-800_PetMeds blog and pass it around to your friends so that maybe they can be on The Ellen Show someday. 

The Adventures of Skipper & Slouch

The Adventures of Skipper and Slouch Revisited

I've got performance anxiety. Meet the newest member of the 1800PetMeds freelance team... AND... wait for it... PetMeds blogger!  Me... a blogger...on the PetMeds Team ??!?!!!!???  This is so "pawsome" (baaaaad), and I get to create practical, web-smart descriptions for various pet products (I know the specs for the Solvit Waterproof Rear Bench Seat Cover by heart!) and I can be all bloggety (okay, braggety) about my boys through cute photos and more fun product reviewing and stories. Wow...it's like Dodger and Oliver's "Adventures of Skipper and Slouch" is going public - if having more than three followers is "going public" - as I chronicle their crazy adventures. That is so cool... I just hope the boys don't go getting big heads about it. I'll try to keep the "pawpawrazzi" at bay. 

I'm just so nervous... I mean look at my own blog. How terrible of me to leave you all hanging after actually walking the 2-Day AVON Walk for Breast Cancer in DC with my sister - a completely life-changing experience that I am STILL having trouble describing through my keyboard. Got a few hours? Let's take a walk and talk... and watch for Team Cupcake Head to rock the house/sidewalk in NYC 2013.

Right now, though, I'm warming up to go through the doggy door of freelance writing and I don't want it to hit me on the butt on my way in.... so, deep breath...  new moleskine... remember  that "well begun is half done"... and somewhere over some rainbow is a feeling of success. SQUIRRRRREL! 

For pictures worth a million words, click on the photo of the exhausted Winston Sisters to the left (to the left, to the left...)

*Sap Alert* - Thank you to an awesome friend who made this opportunity possible...because that's what friends do... they care, they notice, they applaud, they cheer you on and they open doors you were too afraid to even approach. Thank you so much for encouraging me to "stop saying can't" in more ways than one.

... and, boy, are my arms tired!

There aren't even words to describe... yet.

GOING OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE SALE!

Thank you Natalie Dee for nailing it this morning. You chose a really pretty pink. Which reminds me...

poo poo in a tutu

Only a few days left until the BIG WALK.  Four months of "training"... walking, fundraising, worrying, prepping, and generally trying not to buy anything and everything PINK.

I think my sister may have beat me to it, though... this is like prom/first date/Dana's first date/HS play/Dana's HS play for her...you get the idea. Lisa has cornered the market on PEEEENK. She's even blinged up Mr. Hankey for the Walk (note the awesome tiara!).

So this is my last minute GOING OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE AND ON A REALLY IMPORTANT WALK donation sale/plea.

this is not photoshopped

Just click HERE so you don't miss out!  Every dollar gets used and reused and then used again because for every one breast saved, two more are touched... or something like that. (Sorry, I'm exhausted and I haven't even laced up my awesome PEEEEEENK sneakers yet.)

On your right... this is me at a gym (or some kind of minimalist exercise facility). I know y'all think I have mad Photoshop skills, but this one's for real. If you've already donated, THANK YOU for your support.  If you haven't, WTF are you waiting for???  Our little two-person team Winston Cups: Hope & Diamonds has already raised over $12,000!!!  Every little bit helps... it really really does. CLICK HERE NOW!

If you're just catching on... go to www.winstoncups.com and check out our groovy web site dedicated to the walk.  I'll get caught up on the  Honor Roll page after the walk...

Wellness Village, here we come!!!!!!!

Can I get a "Hell Yeah"??? And then maybe a nice Epsom Salt bath and foot massage....

I Want Her Job

Skirts and Scuffs: NASCAR In Heels: Track Chic: What stands out in this picture...Ingrid's shoes! Credit: Debbie Ross/Skirts and Scuffs Two weekends ago Skirts and Scuffs resident phot...

GOAL!

I got by with a lot of help from my friends!!!

Wooo hoooo awesome swag gym bag on its way to me and many many thank you's to get out to others. 

Wow, I am soooooo blown away. And I don't want to stop. Keep it coming... please... don't let my reaching my fundraising goal keep you from donating... just click here. Every single dollar is appreciated, used, reused, and you've probably lost more than that in the laundry. Just sayin'...

Hello, My Name is Chemobrain!

Nippleless should be recognized by spell-check.  I don't want a hyphen. I want a descriptor.

Just sayin'.

I've been trying to think of a new word for "survivor" in regard to having had breast cancer. Something that underscores early detection (as the miracle discovery of  2 different types of cancer in 7 tumors total was a result of my very first mammogram at 39 (blah blah blah...)

then there was my first double mastectomy (really owie boo boos and lots of decorative gauze... I could've won Project Runway with my tenderly placed adhesive strips),

and my bi-weekly drip trips to the chemo cafe... and of course, my new inflatable boobs...

and early menopause (my 40th birthday present was the not having to ever have a period again) - oh, and for the record, going through chemo and menopause at the same time, in the winter, will have you bald and naked in the snow in the front yard. Making snow angels. I call it ChemoPause.

Then there was the secret delight of losing hair in places I really didn't mind losing it.

I could start peppering my speech with lines like "Was your chemo cocktail that deep fuchsia hue of a Rubellite Tourmaline, too?" and "Wasn't it great to not have to shave you legs for 4 months?" and see what kind of responses I get.

Oh, and "Did you earn that pink ribbon or did it come from Oriental Trading?"

I can't just walk around topless and let the wounds speak for themselves, and you can't really SEE chemobrain... but I am part of some "new normal" group.

I just don't know what to have printed on the name tag.

Can I legally have my name changed to Chemo Brain?

Goodbye Yellow Brick Podunk Road...

I love the Ithaca DMV. The ladies there make a mildly profound administrative task such a pleasure. My driver's license expired on my 46th birthday last week and I waited, of course, until the last possible minute to get it renewed. So I took the gorgeous Finger Lakes afternoon off work, having practiced my next ID smile in the mirror all day, cursing having a birthday in March. March birthdays suck when it comes to photo ID's. I'm never tan. Anymore. And I'm always wearing a scarf.

Strangely, while I was excited to not have to look at the current horrible, little picture of  pre-diagnosed, sick, skinny Stephanie with the stupid black hair and zit-from-nowhere anymore - it's amazing how much can happen in eight years - was officially changing my address. Having left our old house on Podunk Road only three years ago, my driver's license still reads Podunk Road.  I love that. So at the Ithaca DMV, on my 46th birthday, I waved one last good-bye to Podunk Road. My new official identification card will read Arden Road. But can I still be the Podunk Princess?

From Park to Arden...? Meh. Arden doesn't even mean anything, but it sounds pretty. It's often a name of a person or a place. The only Arden I ever knew was the sister of our creepy landlord in back in New Paltz. She was nice, though. So is Arden Road.

In a few weeks I will see my new driver's license and say hello to a post-cancer, salt and pepper (read: gray), short-haired, funkily bifocaled, dangerously make-up-free, middle-aged woman with a HUGE GRIN and Springy PEEEENK scarf..

And a little lip gloss. Like a true Podunk Princess!

Top 5 Products I Wish They'd Bring Baaaack

These WERE a few of my Favorite Things:

1. AVEDA Self Control Hair Wax - I am sadly "waxing poetic" over the cancellation of my favorite hair styling product - the one that was shaped like deodorant and did indeed confuse a few house guests. Aveda Self Control is the Holy Grail of hair styling products. I used to work at an Aveda salon (in the 90's when it was still Aveda). I became a Self Control Junkie, sporting my freshly cut pixie, smelling like Jorst's signature "purefume" goodness, and knowing that my superpowers could be found in a 2 oz. stick of solid hair magic. I never ever dreamed that AVEDA (now Estee Lauder) would pull the plug on this desert-island product.  I recently saw a single (new) stick on ebay for $199.  I offered the woman fifty bucks and she turned me down.  I swear if I ever make a million dollars (or more), I am going to buy every last stick on the planet.  If there are any left. (*end note - that stick went for a grand total of $56.00 - she coulda just taken my $50...)

2. Pacifica Indian Coconut Body Wash.  At Sephora one week. Gone the next. This perfect signature coconut scent exists in every other format, including a solid perfume.  And almost every other scent they produce has a body wash.... so what happened?  I don't want the Indian Coconut perfume (well, maybe the spray of you're wondering what I might want for my birthday).  I want the body wash.... I want so much natural tropical splendor in my suds, that the only thing missing is the Jamaican rum.  And the palm trees. I still scour the shelves at Ricky's when I'm in the city... hoping to find that one last, dusty jug.  *weeps silently*

3. Coconut Flavored YooHoo.  A gift from the gods. Mother's milk from MobilMart.  Oh, how I miss it.

4. Old Navy Cami Tops without the shelf-bra. Newflash!  Post-mastectomy women covet them.  At six bucks apiece, I haven't worn anything else under my clothes since I went through breast cancer in 2005.  They slide on and up like tube skirts (so no arm lifting necessary) and they provide a comfortable, almost necessary, snugness that reconstructive surgery begs for even years after sutures are removed. They came in a myriad fashionably normal colors (so it was okay if a strap showed from time to time) and they lasted (well, the quality declined over the years, but I hung in there). I could wear them all the time, with or without anything over them and they made me feel GOOD.  Well, I recently went to order new ones... at six bucks each, the white ones are worth replacing every few months... and they don't make them anymore.  They put a "shelf bra" back in them - an itchy, jock strappy strip of elastic that just messes with my implants. I beg you, Old Navy, please... I just want my daily "go-to" snug, soft, tank top/bra/nightshirt cami back. In white, black, brown, pink, ocean, berry, slate, hunter, navy, violet, and lime.

5. My old eyeglass frame company Planet I discontinued my favorite style. Ugh. Picking new eyeglass frames is like picking a husband.  You're committed, man.  And I ain't no spring chicken. I'm almost into tri-focal territory!  All the better to see my handsome hubby, though.

Snow Day

Snow Day at Porcupine Farms isn't really a day off.  It's just more time to deal with the snow.  And firewood.  And the wood stove.  And more firewood.  And ashes.  And wet dogs.  In the ashes.  And I get wear my Carhartt and smell like Aspen 'cause everything I own smells like my ass been coddling the wood stove.

Isn't this what husbands do?

In truth, I am spending this snow day writing about that husband because he isn't here right now  hee hee... I devote today to Chris, the husband who has put up with me for over 11 years.

The one who still leaves me love notes in my "regular routine" early morning cabinetry... the one who packs me a healthy lunch (so he doesn't have to deal with my bottomed out sugar levels at the end at the day)... the one who says "honey, you look so sexy sometimes"... the one who still has my PMS programmed on his Palm Pilot even though I haven't menstruated in 6 years.  He still stocks up on chocolate, though.  He rubs my aching feet when his hurt more.  He picks up pizza in blizzards.  And he is the one who reassures me that everything little thing is gonna be alright. Oh, and he lets me love Bobby Labonte.

This is why I want to thank him for his supporting my decision to take part in the Avon Walk with my sister.

There's a part of Chris that cringes when he sees "pink ribbonism"... my new pink iphone cover or a pink ribbon tote bag, or pink pens and paper.  I don't blame him.  It sucked for him too.  And for the last few years I consciously tucked many of my tell-tale apparel and key chains and magnets banners and return address labels and tic-tacs and dog collars and license plate frames and tattoos (well, I can't really hide my tattoo, but that's different) away.  A new beginning for us as a married couple where the "new normal" for us wasn't patient/caregiver.

He helped me through breast cancer.
He helped me bury my father, his best friend.
He is my mirror (I could use a shave).
He is Santa Claus at the SAL in T-Burg.
And he is probably blushing like crazy right now!

So, Chris... thank you for letting my repressed inner "peeeeenk" come back out so that my sister and I can make this happen.

Thank you letting me go down this rabbit hole with my sister as the Mad Hatter.