And So It Begins...

 Fall, my old and favorite friend, we meet again. The air is crisper, the apples have more bite, the wines taste richer and sweaters transport me to a place of safety and warmth. It's as if nature herself is celebrating her own finale as the foliage breaks forth in a mosaic of olive greens, burgundies and mustard yellows. 

My mind is reeling with a million ideas for things to cook, eat and drink. Roasted butternut squash, pumpkin cranberry bread, root vegetable stews and rustic apple pies are all begging to be made. I can't wait for a free day to cruise the farmers market for a bit of inspiration and some fresh apple cider. 

Deep down...or maybe more close to the surface, I am a bit of a home body. Thankfully, fall offers me the privilege to indulge myself by staying in. I happily gather my loved ones, light my fireplace and cook all that autumn has to offer until I fall asleep with a good book in my lap and a warm meal in my belly. I cannot think of a more perfect scene than this. 

(I genuinely hope you share my sentiments, dear reader. After all,  fall is the time for comfort, and who among us does not need to be comforted?)

Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have a bit of baking to do. You see, I have a friend who could use a bit of banana bread, another who is craving pumpkin bread and I need some apple tart to go with my coffee.

Happy fall my darlings. 

Our Daily Bread

One of the best things in the world is the smell of fresh baked bread. It's a wonderful thing to come home to the warm bouquet of garlic, yeast and thyme. For around one hundred dollars (I've seen them as low as fifty), you can buy a bread-maker that gives you this exact thing with little to no effort. I can start a loaf in about five minutes and in three and a half hours, I have a warm, yeasty, delicious loaf that simply cannot compare to store bought bread. In this day and age, we queens must be steadfast in our domestic arts but I understand the day and age in which we live and the need to find a few shortcuts. Trust me, this lovely machine is worth every penny. For the price of an artisanal loaf bought at the local grocery store, you can buy enough ingredients for about four, very large loaves. It is not only a money saver, but a comfort inducer as well. Instead of scenting your home with gadgets that spray chemicals about, you can now scent your home with the delightful aroma whatever you choose to create. Warm yeast breads, cinnamon-raisin breads, banana bread, or even a savory cheddar-jalepeno loaf are all available for just five minutes of effort and a few pennies worth of ingredients. There are even a ton of gluten free flours, recipes and mixes for those that are gluten intolerant. The sky is truly the limit.

Happy baking my darlings. 

Hoarders

Until recently, I hadn't really seen the dire need for a post such as this. I mean, people keep their houses relatively clean and clutter free don't they? Or so I thought.
I've recently become simultaneously obsessed and disgusted with the show Hoarders (A&E). It amazes me that these people can get their lives to such a state of mess and disarray. It's a great and glorious thing to be queen of your own castle but queen of your very own pigsty?
Now granted, they weren't always like this. It had to start somewhere. I know most of these people have a mental block or illness that prohibits them from changing their life. I am not trying to make light of their situation. They need serious help.
Believe it or not, there is a benefit to watching such a program. The great thing about this show is that it forces us to examine the state of our own homes. I pride myself on the cleanliness and minimalism of my home, but after watching a few episodes of Hoarders, I now find myself asking if there is room for further improvement.
If I really want to dig deep and be honest, I will admit that I am a bit of a hoarder when it comes to certain things. Magazines that I intend to read someday, clothing that I know I will never fit back into, books that might have some relevance in my life sometime before I die, even spices and herbs that I can't seem to part with because I never know when the urge to make sushi hand rolls or curried cauliflower will strike again. Never mind that they are way past their "use by" date.
I also find myself madly looking under and around things to find the hidden dirt. Even a clean home can be dirty under the surface. It took me 3 hours to clean my already clean kitchen today because I decided to go on a dirt hunt. Boy did I find it.
I don't know why I am freely admitting all of this to you, dear reader. Maybe if I put myself out there, it will encourage you to follow suit...or perhaps it will force me to spring clean my surroundings more often. Either way, some good has come of this madness. I am now acutely aware of the amount of cat hair accumulating in my sitting room as well as the mystery mess that one of the kids left in the guest bathroom cabinet. Nice.
Happy cleaning my darlings.

Il Dolce Far Niente (The Sweetness of Doing Nothing)

Ok girls, lesson time. 

In reading Eat, Pray, Love, I learned that the Italians do not feel the need to earn pleasure. They do not have to deserve it or view it as a reward. They understand that pleasure and relaxation are God given rights. If they want to lay in the grass drinking lemoncello all afternoon, they do it simply because they exist and therefore deserve it. They do it because they understand that in order to have a balanced life, they must. It is simply what is done. Kind of like brushing your teeth. They tend to the health of their sanity just as we obsess about oral health. They don't rely on pharmaceuticals to get them through the day, they do it the way nature intended. With mandatory pause time. Hell, even my cat understands the importance of pause time.
Remember the old Janet Jackson song, "What have you done for me lately"? Well? What have you done for you lately? I'm not talking about rushing off to get your nails done or to get your hair styled or even to get that hot masseuse to rub you down. I'm talking about doing nothing. I think they call it sloth in the bible. I call it heaven. When was the last time you napped in the afternoon? Or took a nice hour-long bath? Or just laid in the sun and listened to the wind in the trees? I bet if you unplug your television, you'd find the time to do just that. Quit throwing mental daggers at me and be honest with yourself. Everyone has the time to do nothing. We just have a habit of filling our time with useless crap that we think is necessary. I do it, you do it, we all do it. Since fall is upon us, I have a great idea. Go make yourself some mulled cider or some hot chocolate, grab an old quilt and go sit out on your front porch for an hour or so and do nothing. Leave your phone, your books and your life inside and simply look and listen to the beauty of the changing seasons. You'll thank me later.

Bed of Roses, or Tulips, or Lilacs...

This post is for my male readers... 

I am going to try to assist you in understanding the importance of flowers to a woman. 

Read carefully, maybe read it twice. Let it sink in. 

Fresh flowers, to a woman, are quite the gift. If given in the right setting, at the right time, you can earn yourself major brownie points with your lady. Let me give you an example. As you may or may not be aware, us women have a propensity for self-esteem problems. We will never admit this to you but we constantly compare ourselves to other women and, because of this, need to be reassured often that we are loved, that we are beautiful and that we have something to be envied. Having said all that, if you send a woman a large and rather extravagant bouquet to her place of work, she will have been reassured of all of these things and better yet, in front of all of her friends and colleagues.  What woman does not love to be admired and loved publicly? Even those that shy away from public displays of affection secretly yearn for the man who will show up on his steed, proclaim his love and kiss the lipstick right off of her mouth...in front of everyone. It's clearly a fantasy of mine and I am like most women. Trust me. We may have different packaging, but essentially, we all want the same things. To be beautiful and to be loved. We are pretty simple when you break us down. 

Now. Don't you have a florist to call or something?

*Disclaimer* Do not confuse "flowers" with "gift" in general. We do not need you sending us cookie bouquets or boxes of chocolates from Godiva. Yes, we love them and want them but do not NEED them and will wind up resenting you in the very near future when we can no longer zip up our favorite dress. 

Castles Made of Sand

There comes a time when you find a castle washed away right from under foot. Maybe it was expected, the tide came in and took away what was rightfully his. Maybe a flash flood came and took everyone by surprise. Maybe some angry little kid with a chip on his shoulder came and kicked it into the sea. Either way, these are the times when it is our responsibility to help remind a friend that she is still queen of her own castle...her new and better castle. 

Times like these can be scary. They can be uncertain. Rest assured, they can be very lonely. It is up to the queens whose castles are on solid ground to mount up and help strengthen that of those whose foundations are a bit shaky. Whether it be bringing over groceries, calling to check in a little more frequently than usual, overlooking the mess, the stress and the minor breakdowns or just stopping by for a chat, remember that no woman is an island. We all need a bit of help and reassurance when life goes unexpectedly. 

The Magic of Making Out

-Magda. She was a putain. A prostitute. She lived just outside of my town. 

Just by a little bridge. She was not beautiful, but she had this mouth...There was  another world waiting there. But I did not have the money for the 

kissing, only for the... you know

- I don't understand.

- To kiss a prostitute, it costs more.

-That makes sense. A kiss is so intimate. You could probably disconnect
from everything else, but a kiss...Two people's lips together,
their breath, a little bit of their soul. 

All I mean is that a kiss is where the romance is.

-Oui. That is what I thought back then. So the next day, I stole francs
from my brother Antoine. I went back and kissed my prostitute
for half an hour. It was very good.

-Kevin Kline, Meg Ryan (French Kiss)

A kiss, when properly executed, can be the most perfect, exciting, spine tingling experience a human can have. The anticipation alone can set your skin aflame. The look...you know the look, the shallow breathing and finally, the contact. Gentle at first, then heavy, hungry, primal. You are floating. All of your troubles are behind you. It's just his mouth (or hers) on yours in perfect, hot heaven. Making out is probably one of my most favorite past times. It's not about sex (yes, most times it leads to sex), it's about passion, exploration and the need to express myself in a way that words cannot. A kiss can say quite a range of things.

Hello.

I love you.

I want you.

I want you now.

I want you now on the dining room table.

When you find a mouth that truly complements yours, making out can be a religious experience. So here is my challenge to you today. Go. Go now. Find someone to kiss and kiss them good and hard for a long, long time. Pleasure and passion are yours for the taking ladies. Get it and get it good.

Finding the Bliss in Being Alone

Faced, as I am from time to time, with the uncomfortable sensation of being alone in public, whether in a restaurant, at a bar or some other place in which the luxury of a companion would be highly appreciated, I realize the growing need for myself to learn to become comfortable when alone. I have fought my solitude in the past with a book, or magazine or perhaps staring off at some mundane event on the television provided at the bar, however, I have never quite settled into the idea that this was comfortable for me. Now don't get me wrong, I can appreciate the experience of enjoying a perfect old fashioned with no one to interrupt or the joy of dining in silence when presented with a great meal but there is still a level of uncertainty that I can’t seem to shake.

I think one of my most uncomfortable experiences was dining at St. Elmo’s Steak House in Indianapolis. The maitre de sat me in the middle of the main dining room, at a table for four, surrounded with tables full of people enjoying their dining companions. I sat there, quietly, barely enjoying my scotch and wedge salad as I began to become acutely aware of that feeling that I was on display. I finished my meal at St. Elmo's and raced back to the comfort of my hotel room, all the while wishing that I didn't feel like a leper. It is, after all, part of our nature to want to be in the company of others. Part of our nature to want to flee from lonely or uncomfortable situations.

Recently, on a trip to St. Paul, I finally found my stride. I made reservations for a table for one, grabbed a good book and stormed off to face my fear head on. The key this time was in explaining that I was dining alone and in asking for a tucked away table. The hostess escorted me to a very nice booth towards the back of the restaurant. I had a wonderful meal, got some reading done and thoroughly enjoyed myself. I happily devoured my bread with olive oil, my capellini pomodoro, my two (yes two) glasses of champagne then finished off my celebration of myself with a coffee and a lemon custard cake. One thing I did not feel? Fear. There was no one there to judge my eating habits, how slow I ate or whether or not I was a good conversationalist. I realized that it was not the being alone that I was afraid of, it was the fear of being judged for being alone. I actually enjoyed the experience. Looking at it in a much different light than before, it's really is quite the luxury.

V is for Vintage

Fashion is very important. It is life-enhancing and, like everything that 

gives pleasure, it is worth doing well.

-Vivienne Westwood

 Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, men were men and women were women. Maquillage, decolletage and the elegant curve of a woman's calve were highly regarded and well respected assets. We accentuated our lips with Chanel's 'Rouge Coco' lipstick, our waists with ornate belts and corsets and our legs with Wolford's, wolf whistle inducing, back seam stockings. We were here to titillate, to entice and to thrill. Fashion was a devastatingly beautiful expression of our sex. 

  Porcelain, Victorian skin was something to be treasured and a blessing to those of us lucky enough to be born with it. 'Spray tans', 'fake bake and 'laying out' were terms that were not in our vocabulary. In regards to sexuality, less was more. We covered and veiled most of ourselves in order to leave more to the imagination. We understood that would could cause much more destruction with our eyes than we could ever do with our flesh. 

Elegance, grace, polish, refinement, sophistication, splendor and style were all words used to describe the modern women. 

Unfortunately, we women have taken an ugly turn in regards to fashion. There is no longer an urge to devastate. There is no longer the urge to be overdressed rather than underdressed. Elegance and class have been replaced with either brash sexuality or dull invisibility in the form of gym clothes, tank tops, sweat shirts, short shorts and mom jeans...in short, either "I really don't give a damn because I have horribly low self-esteem." or "Look at me! I'm almost naked and I have horribly low self-esteem!". 

Either way, it's a heinous sin to our sex. 

My dear queens, please, I beg of you, if you dare find yourself in one of the two above situations, do not walk, but run to your nearest vintage store, break out your mad money and shop until you again understand the meaning of the word woman. God did not build us to be dressed down. If you don't believe me, go home and watch every movie containing Audrey Hepburn, Marilyn Monroe, Greta Garbo, Gene Tierney and Sophia Loren. These women knew what they were put on this earth to do. Take good notes girls. We are queens, "There is no passion to be found in playing small" 
(Nelson Mandela). 

Center of the Universe

I recently had my very first trip to New York City. At the age of 30, not having been to New York before is certainly a shame. I have been in major, heart-braking, butterflies in the stomach, sick in the head, love with New York since...well, since I can remember. I have always had an obsession for movies and t.v. shows set in New York. Annie is the first one I can remember. Who doesn't love a good rags to riches story? Breakfast at Tiffany's, Rent, Eyes Wide Shut, Find Me Guilty, Melinda and Melinda...all great New York movies. The city is as much a character as the actors are. It's...for lack of a better word, amazing. The architecture, the food, the fashion, the people. Everything is different in New York. It's like they turned up the volume on life there. The energy alone sets your skin on fire and you are energized to the inth degree. The first time I saw the skyline of New York I felt my eyes well up. Thank God I was wearing sunglasses because I am sure that Steve would have thought I was crazy. We've covered this before, remember? I'm a crier. What better reason than my first view of the Manhattan skyline to get me misty eyed. While I was there, I ate, I shopped, I ran through Central Park, I hailed my first cab, I love every dirty, gritty, grimy second of it.
I've been jonesin bad to get back there.

I'm Not Dead...Just Resting...

Sorry for the break in posts. I have been running non-stop to catch up with my life. Work, school, blog, dance class, gym, kids, husband...something had to give. I define being queen of my own castle as being able to take time and enjoy my life, something I had stopped doing awhile ago. Yes, I am still struggling. I never said it was easy. Being queen is a process, not a checklist. So, my dear friends, I am sorry that I left you for a bit. Stay tuned, I'll be back in full force. I promise.

We The Pizza

Once upon a time (a couple of weeks ago), in a land far, far away (New York City's Little Italy), yours truly had her first sidewalk vendor pizza experience. It was heavenly, to say the least. Gooey, cheesy, perfect crust, just enough sauce...I'm a purist so I ordered the cheese. Good God! So this is what real pizza is supposed to taste like! (I grew up on atrocities such as Pizza Hut and Dominoes.) I think I remember my eyes rolling back into my head as I devoured it like a starving wildebeest. I had grease dripping down my chin and arms in the center of the street and I didn't care about it in the least. I was so focused on getting that slice in my mouth that the world quickly dissolved around me and it was just me and my pie. I was in foodie heaven.
For those of you who are thinking skeptically about the description of my experience, make no mistake, I am not exaggerating. New York pizza is everything they say it is and then some.

Self-Imposed Bondage

Someone please hand me the scissors. I have tied myself up something fierce...and not in a good way. Not only am I running my own household, but I am working 50+ hours a week and am crazy enough to be attempting college on the side, not to mention a social life, the gym, errands... It's enough to thoroughly wilt even the most vibrant of flowers. Queen of my own castle? Please. I barely feel like queen of my own bathroom right now. (which, by the way, could use a thorough scrub down if you know a good house keeper)

I, unfortunately, am painfully learning the cost of living such a life. It takes an extreme toll on my energy levels, my relationships and my overall mood. Debbie Downer? Present and accounted for. I spent last Saturday night on the couch because I had such a screaming migraine that I didn't want to keep my husband up (who had to get up at 6:00 to go to class). When I woke up, my neck was in such a state of discourse that I just wanted to go back to bed. And that's exactly what I did...ignoring a quickly mounting list of things to do.

My fellow queens in training, here is the problem: we are working ourselves to the bone and having a wretched time in the process. I joke that my hair is down to my waist because I don't have the time to get it cut. But is this really that funny? Yes, I am lucky enough to have good hair but that's besides the point. I don't have enough time to take care of myself because I am so busy taking care of everything else. Somehow, we have fallen into a very bleak culture of guilt, that if you have a spare minute in your life, you should be crossing something off of your ever expanding list. We are slave drivers unto ourselves.

So, how do we fix it? What gets dropped? Sorry ladies, I can't answer that question for you. It's your life and you have to answer that question for yourself. I do know that I am skipping the gym today in order to catch up on some much needed rest. We can't all be perfect and not everything has to be done right now. I guess accepting that fact is the first step. Now...about those scissors...

Steven

Living in his shadow is actually quite warm.
Tucked in close beside him, right underneath his arm.
I could live forever, quite happy and content,
Living with the title of "my husband's ornament".
Shadows mean for some, a life of solitude and cold.
His shadow means to me a life of warmth as I grow old.
I'll never leave his shadow, Not willingly you see.
Because living in his shadow...well...it means the world to me.
-Angela Ianni, 2008

Writing has always seemed a more expressive means of communicating for me. I get to write, re-write and edit my thoughts until the words express exactly what I am feeling in that moment. On the eve of my husband's birthday, I felt it necessary to break this old poem out and publicly announce, through my writing,  that I am very grateful for his existence in the world and to let him know that he has forever changed mine.

I love you Steven.

Happy Birthday.

Candle Opera

Sexy. Elegant. Luminous. Mysterious.

No, I am not describing a woman, however, it is interesting to me that the same words used to describe a candle can also be used to describe a woman. Think about it. They both illuminate. They both bring light into a place where there would have been none otherwise; be that light in a room, a mood, a life or elsewhere...but alas, I digress. 

I love candles. There is something very elegant, sophisticated and warm about gatherings of lit candles placed around the house. They take an otherwise imperfect atmosphere and elevate it to a level beyond natural means...not to mention what candle light does for a woman's skin...and body. The warm glow from a candle softens all of our flaws and imperfections and makes us a more perfect version of ourselves. If I could live by candle light my entire life, I gladly would.

When Darkness Falls

Imagine. It's nighttime in your house. The crickets are chirping. There is a full moon hanging in the sky. The temperature is about seventy degrees out and the mosquitoes have not amassed just yet. The children are asleep and all is well with the world. What are you going to do with that hour before you climb into bed? Will you turn on the television and numb your brain with whatever the networks have prepared for the masses? Or, will you open a window and a bottle of wine (or perhaps the tea box), breathe in the night air, enjoy a good book...maybe settle down with a loved one?
All too often we forget to slow down and enjoy the environment around us. We get so wrapped around the goings on of our day that we forget to end it properly. Home is not meant to be a place to carry in the stresses from outside. It is a place for rest, for relaxation. A place to find warmth, love and solitude. In the grand scheme of things, we will choose to look fondly back on those nights devoted to ourselves and our loved ones...not those devoted to the remote control.

The Haunting

It's always a curious thing to be haunted. Right now I am currently haunted by a few things...bikini season, Heidi Klum's impossible body, the massive bowl of pasta I just polished off, my bedroom mirror...I think you get the picture. I have recently gone back to running: a task which I am now realizing, is not as easy for me as it was last summer. I was up to five miles last year in well under an hour. Now, I can barely finish two. This is not good for many reasons. First, it's depressing, and second, well...I suppose depression is enough of a reason. This is the issue: I was too lazy during the winter, or shall I say too busy putting on that winter layer, to get off my ever expanding rear and get outside. Treadmill work is very boring for me so I avoided it like the plague. Then I thought to myself, sex burn calories, right? Well then, I'll just have a ton of it! The problem with that is no one told me that the comparison of sex to running was massively different when it comes to calorie burning...I found that out when the scale kept going the wrong way...but at least my husband was happy. So my dear ladies, I graciously learned this lesson for you. If you don't use it, you lose it. None of us are getting younger. Get out there, make some movement, do something! Remember, men get more distinguished as they age...we just get old.

Also keep in mind the two most feared words in the English language...pool party.

Taking Tea

I've never been one for ceremony. I have always been a touch more informal about the way I approach things in life. Take tea for instance. Taking tea can, for some, be quite an event. The best silver, bone china and finger foods are broken out in celebration. Now, don't get me wrong, there is something to be said for ceremony. There is a time and a place. But for tea? Give me my pajamas, a good book, my back porch and that's all the ceremony I need. I do have bone china but it's chipped and fading...it has been graced with the patina of a bygone era and it suits me just fine. As far as sweetener goes, I love lump sugar. There is something special about a nice lump of sweetness resting on your saucer waiting to be submerged in the hot, creamy liquid. Oh yes, I forgot to mention that I also take cream with my tea. It somehow just makes it that much more soothing. Water? When I have the time, I wait for my kettle to warm up. I just adore the whistle. It sounds so much more authentic than the hum of the microwave. It's all about the simple pleasures, right?

(I can't blog about tea and not mention the iced variety, without which, my hammock would be just a bunch of string. So here's to you, iced tea, for making my summer resting place the most relaxing place in the world.)

The Ritual of Bathing

The bath. I can think of nothing more relaxing and nurturing than a long and luxurious bath on a languid afternoon. Watching the steam rise from the water as I feel my muscles relax, my mood mellow and my nose fill with the enchanting scent of lavender is, by far, one of my most revered past times. In my frenzied schedule, as I am sure is the case in yours as well, I hardly take the time to really turn off the world and focus on nothing but myself and my five senses. This, however, is a crucial necessity of life and homage must be paid.

I have a tendency to save bathing for those times when no one else is in the house. That way I can be sure that I will spend my hour or so uninterrupted. I have a collection of bath salts, bombs, potions and teas to ensure that I am scenting my bath with whatever strikes my mood that day. Lavender is my standard but I also have magnolia, milk, honey, lilac and rose. If I bathe during the day, I turn off all artificial light and bathe by the light of day. Nighttime brings candles into my repertoire. A couple of white tea lights placed around the tub gives off an almost ethereal glow through the steam. Iced water or hot tea is a must in the bath. Your body sweats in the heat and you need refreshment. Also, and I hope this goes without saying, turn off your phone. In fact, turn off everything...except maybe some Chopin or Enrico Caruso. Find what relaxes you, lay back, soak it in and let yourself melt into perfect, sublime, Utopian heaven.

Edible Enlightenment

If it is true that you are what you eat, why is it, dear queens, that we let any old, packaged, processed and cooked beyond recognition thing pass our lips? A royals diet should not be composed of such common foods as...well...anything processed and stuffed full of chemicals in a plastic package or anything from (heaven forbid) a fast food restaurant. Can you imagine the Queen of England pulling up her carriage to a McDonald's and ordering a Big Mac? I think not. We are royalty and must treat ourselves as such. As I've said before, learn to cook. There is no better meal than one prepared from scratch with quality organic ingredients. There is no substitute for fresh fruits and vegetables. There is nothing to gain from food that is so far from what it originally was that you can barely identify it.

I recently made an amazing Eggplant Parmesan with oven roasted eggplant, home made tomato sauce, ricotta, mozzarella and fresh basil. Instead of frying the eggplant, I simply topped the casserole with toasted bread crumbs and Parmesan. So much healthier and still as exquisite. And please, do not give me the "I don't have the time" excuse. Cook in large batches, package in individual servings and freeze. You'll have a wholesome, home cooked meal available any time.

In regards to the quality of the food you are buying, do yourselves a favor and watch the film Food Inc....it will change your life...and your diet.

We are not common, why act as if?

(Super Size Me, No Impact Man and Fast Food Nation get honorable mention)

Glass Castles

Gossip. It is a nasty, nasty thing. It changes perceptions, tears down friendships and relationships and is just a plain un-ladylike thing to do. We are all guilty of it. I am no saint when it comes to the latest news about, well...anything. We all want to know everything about everyone. Here's my question, and God, please don't let it be true...are we really that bored with our lives that we have the insatiable urge to be so ingrained in the lives of others? Does it really make a difference in my life if I know about who's cheating on whom or which lady is not keeping down her lunch in order to lose those last five pounds? It's none of my business. It's not yours either. I have had plenty of untrue rumors flying about me in the past and they were perpetuated by my supposed friends (ok, so some of them were actually pretty funny...like the one where I was sleeping with this little troll of a man, as if!) but the point is that we all have our dirt and I'm pretty sure that we want to keep our dirt were it belongs. We are in no place to play Miss Nasty Judge and Jury to anyone but ourselves. So my lovely ladies, we all live in glass castles, none of should be throwing stones.

Happiness Is a Warm Gun

My friend Tracy just bought her first gun...a revolver. I am jealous, to say the least. To me, there is nothing sexier than a woman who knows how to use a gun. Imagine...her Ladyship, the great Lara Croft (as depicted by the incomparable Angelina Jolie, of course).

My gun of choice happens to be the mini glock (9mm). It's compact, comfortable and packs a rather wicked punch. I, however, rent my guns instead of owning my own.

Here is where the royal act of patience enters...after 14 years of renting, I have finally resolved to buy myself one for my next birthday. What a present, right? Now keep in mind, I am not a hard core feminist by definition but I do have a strong belief that women should know how to use a gun. Not only do I hold this belief because I want you to be able to defend yourself (honestly, men these days...they're not exactly the knight in shining armor type), but holding that much intensity in the palm of your hand is very empowering. For me, blowing through a box of ammo is an incredible form of stress relief. There is a massive amount of concentration involved and when you're done, you can't remember what stress brought you there in the first place. It's very cathartic. Let me explain...first, you pay your range fees, meanwhile ignoring the giggles of the men folk who don't think you belong there (bloody imbeciles), strap on your goggles and ear protection, load your gun, hang your target and commence to blowing every tiny, little piece of your lousy day away. Have a blast...literally. Trust me, few things come close to the thrill you get from feeling cold hard steel rip through your hands. It's magnificent.

The Printed Page

"Books may well be the only true magic"
-Alice Hoffman

My nightstand holds, on average, five to ten books on any given day. Currently there are seven...a book on fashion in 1970's Paris, 2-3 random novels, The Food Lovers Companion, a book on travel in Europe and a rather thick work of fiction that I have been attempting to read for the better part of five years. I am the odd type of person who reads multiple books at a time. I pick my books according to my mood. If I'm feeling dark and depressed, I pick up The Crimson Petal and the White and read about the dark, dank streets of Victorian London. Feeling sarcastic? Anything by my dear friend Simon Doonan or perhaps the snide Mr. Bourdain does the trick. Want something to completely numb the brain? Bergdorf Blondes is the perfect chick lit fluff. The thing that I love so dearly about the written word is it's ability to calm, de-stress and completely remove you from the one place you don't care to be to anywhere you prefer.

Books were and continue to be my oldest and dearest friends.

In my youth, I would read anything I could get my hands on. I would find a good climbing tree, perch myself in it and read for hours. I was obsessed. I believe that it was that obsession with books that led me to writing...and ultimately to you.

Please keep in mind, I am not trying to push my obsession with literature on you, only to explain to you my passion and why it exists. I have many passions...books, food, adventure, sex, travel...just to name a few. Passion is what life is all about anyway. Finding what excites you, what ignites that fire in your belly and then fueling it to keep it going. Passion is the soul of your existence.

Without passion...we perish.

Find yours.

Overcoming Fear Part Deux

OK, so I did it. I jumped out of a perfectly good plane and had the most amazing time of my life. (that's me, dead center by the way) I kept wondering when I would get the butterflies in my stomach but they never came. I guess that the experience was so surreal that my mind didn't really process what was about to happen. So there I was with my instructor strapped to my back and my feet dangling out of the plane. He tilted us forward and made a comment about the cloudiness of the day. Maybe he was trying to spook me but it didn't work. He asked me if I was ready, I shook my head yes, he tilted me forward, tilted me back and then we were gone. All I felt was the wind in my face and the mist of the cloud that we were falling through. It was exhilarating. There are no words to describe the sensation. There was no funny feeling in my stomach like on roller coasters. Just wind and a feeling of complete freedom. Did you know that you can fall ten thousand feet in sixty seconds? Me either. The clouds began to part and the earth suddenly was very clear. I think it may have finally registered that I was falling very quickly towards cold, hard ground. The day was so cold that I thought I was going to pass out from it and just as I was about to close my eyes against the icy blast, he pulls the chute. I hear a whoosh and all of a sudden we're just hanging there. Floating. He played with the cords and we swung back and forth and around looking at the amazing landscape below us. He pointed out the beach and mentioned that we were lucky because in the summer, it's to hazy to see. I was speechless. I can only imagine how much more beautiful it must be in the summer when everything is in full bloom. All I could think was "What the hell am I doing at my current job when there are jobs out here like this?!?" We floated around a bit more until we got close enough to the ground to land. I wish I could say that the landing was soft but a gust of wind caught us and needless to say...I broke his fall. No broken bones...don't worry. Just a bit sore today.

Oh, and by the way, yes, I'd do it again in a heartbeat...it was worth every penny.

Overcoming Fear

We all have fears. Fear is paralyzing. Royals cannot afford to be paralyzed. How on earth would we be able to flaunt all that fabulous couture if we were too afraid to put it on for fear that it might rip? OK, I'm just joking...no one really has a fear of wearing couture. That's just silly. Funny enough, in two days I am jumping out of a plane and I have no fear of that...but maybe that has something to do with the cute SEAL that will be strapped to my back. I do, however, carry a strong fear of sharing my blog with the world. Putting yourself out there is terrifying. It opens you up to criticism. Am I really ready for that? I had a long talk and learned a very valuable lesson from a friend last night. Fear will only hold you back and keep the best part of you away from everyone. Fear will keep your successes at bay and your vulnerability in your face. Fear is death. So, here I am world. The good, the bad and the ugly...the misspelled words and improper grammar...the funny, witty girl who still has (gasp) insecurities. Enjoy.

Je Suis Snob

A friend of mine, not long ago, got her feelings hurt because she was called (gasp) a snob. It got me thinking...is being a snob such a bad thing? A snob denotes someone with taste...someone who does not accept the everyday...someone with high standards and high expectations. In life, we are expected to think that the word snob is an insult. I happen to think of it as a compliment. I'd much rather be known for my high standards than for being (gasp) common. I happen to be a snob of many things...wine, clothing, underpinnings, food, scotch...this, in my opinion makes me a well-rounded and fascinating person. Who wants to be around an individual with bad taste?

(Disclosure statement- I am not condoning becoming one who belittles or excludes non-snobs...I am only encouraging you to embrace good taste and discernment. )

For a bit of light-humored fun...take the following snob tests

http://webcenters.netscape.compuserve.com/love/snobtest.jsp

http://puzzles.about.com/library/quiz/blsnobte.htm

Old friends...

New friends are great...and will no doubt come around as your queendom starts to blossom, however, do not forget that it is your old friends that got you to where you are. They opened your eyes to new experiences, held your head as you cried, quieted your fears and were there when no one else was. Do not neglect or forget those old friends. They are just as important, if not more so, than your new friends. Thanks to Facebook, we all have the opportunity to re-connect with almost anyone. Take the opportunity to rekindle an old friendship or two. You'll be surprised at what you find. As you get more comfortable in your new regal bliss, remember, it is the warmth and love of an old friend that leaves you sleeping well at night...not the fleeting love of a new hanger on who may or not be there tomorrow...

How to Eat

I am a realist. I know that I am going to eat on the run based on the lifestyle I live. You probably do as well. Shame on both of us. I also know that I am not fully enjoying the food that I am eating when on the run. Sure, I taste it, but do I really fully comprehend the flavors, textures and aromas of what I am thrusting towards my mouth? No. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure I don't taste it. In our homogenized, microwaved, give-it-to-me-now world, it is desperately important to take those rare moments and enjoy a good, made from scratch meal. So, every once in a while, usually on my day off, I take the time to shop for, cook and enjoy (by myself and in silence) a meal that truly deserves my attention. Maybe a nice hearty minestrone soup with a crusty sourdough bread, a roasted vegetable lasagna and a glass of Chianti or perhaps a smoky ratatouille over Parmesan polenta. Whatever sparks that creative light in me that particular day. After I'm done cooking, I light a candle, place some flowers on the table, breathe slowly and eat. Really eat.

(If you don't know how to cook, now's the time to learn. Find one or two signature dishes that you can call your own. Buy a cookbook that looks interesting and get to it. If you don't believe in the virtues of cooking, watch Julie and Julia, it will change your world.)

Edit Ruthlessly

As my favorite fashion advisor, Simon Doonan (www.simondoonan.net), says...edit ruthlessly. Granted, he was referring to your closet. I am referring to everything...your closets, your cabinets, your refrigerator, your garage...the works. If it does not make you feel absolutely fabulous, get rid of it. There will always be some peasant that will benefit from your castoffs. A queen has no business using a rusted knife, a pilling blanket or an ill-fitting pair of shoes. You deserve nothing less than the best...so why keep it around? If you are to lessen the amount of clutter in your life (more on that later), you need to be blunt. Cut to the quick. Get rid of it. Not only will you feel better when you look in your closets and cabinets and see yourself surrounded by only wonderful things, you will feel the warmth of knowing that you helped someone less fortunate with your supreme generosity.

All Hail the Estate Sale

Now, I know the folks at Peta will not be happy with me (even though I happen to be a vegetarian) but I have a vintage, fur collared, calf length, wool coat hanging in my closet. The wool is a beautiful camel color and the collar is red fox fur...gorgeous and fits like a dream. Wanna know how much I spent on it? $5.00. How did I get such an amazing coat at such an amazing price you might ask? Estate Sale. Now I am sure you all know which neighborhoods in your area are the 'ritzy' ones. Pick up a paper and look for estate sales in those neighborhoods. They are a gold mine of amazingly priced queenly items. I have a brass handled umbrella, tons of vintage silver and linen, velvet throw pillows, you name it. All for a pittance. If you are to truly equip your castle with stately things to make yourself feel absolutely fabulous, hit up one of these darling little gold mines and shop to your hearts content, guilt free. Just do me one favor. Actually use the items you buy. Don't be one of those uptight women who keep everything in a curio case for a 'special occasion'. You are royalty, every day is a special occasion. If your silver tarnishes, polish it. If your vintage linen rips, so what, you barely paid anything for it. Go buy more! Happy Hunting!!

Learning to say "no"

As a child, it's our favorite word. We cry and stomp our feet and scream it at the top of our lungs as soon as we learn it...much to our parents dismay. Why then, as adults, are we so afraid to use it? What is it about this word that makes it so difficult to say???
After nine days of vacation, I just want to go back on another vacation. Every five minutes or so I have another person with another issue, want or need, on top of my already huge mountain of things to do. As a sanity control method, I called my assistant and had him hold all of my calls. Not everything is a fire that needs to be put out right now. Those calls can wait. Those that show up unannounced or without appointment...sorry, I can not be disturbed right now. Please come back when you learn to call in advance. Do I feel like a big bitch doing this? Yes, in a way I do...however, isn't that part of growing up? Learning to stand up for yourself? It's OK to say no. I am still learning this after all these years. I was raised to be nice and agreeable and pleasant but if I am to honestly be queen of my castle...er office, I need to learn to grow up and assert myself. Feelings be damned!