It Is Really Here

When weather forecasters predict snow and ice in The South, two things happen. People either scoff loudly and say things like, "well, I'll believe it when I see it" or they buy bread and milk. I am always afraid to hope. Scared to dream, petrified of the disappointment that we will have an eighth of an inch of nothing.

But yesterday it began snowing in earnest, businesses began closing early, Lipstick City started slowing down. We haven't had a snow like this since January of 2003 (which I remember vividly because I found out I was pregnant with JBB about two weeks later).

You know that saying, "and the ground was covered with a blanket of snow"? Well...
we have more of a mattress and boxed springs.

I hope y'all have a wonderful Saturday. We are off to put footprints in our yard, drag out the sled, and try for a snowman!

Thank You for Asking...(and then I blush and curtsey)

I was reading through an insightful post on Joyceyland, enjoying, analyzing, mentally digesting. I reached the last sentence and noticed that it said, "Interesting to see what Lipstick thinks of this."

Well, I nearly choked on my on-its-way-to-being-stale Trident original flavor gum. I corrected my poor posture, looked very closely at the screen just to double check and sure enough, my fuzzy contacts had not betrayed me. Joyce Hor-Chung Lau asked my opinion. I feel very cool by association. Joyce lives in Hong Kong and covers all things Hong Kong and China for the New York Times. I like to read her articles there too and pretend that I am about to take a fantastical international journey.

Ok, so Joyce has been doing a series about working women on her blog. Recommended reading. Make that assigned reading. The blog post in particular is about a survey from Accenture which indicated that among other things 59% of young women defined success as, "balancing professional and private lives." In addition, 66% listed family life as a priority over career (29% listed career as the priority).

Joyce noted that I was the only full-time working mom on all of her links. Hmmmm...maybe I got this honor by default. I don't care-I am just as ecstatic. Joyce reads me. Happy dance. Alright back on track. That is actually kind of interesting because I don't know many full-time working moms who blog either. I think I should immediately dispel the super-mom myth right here and now. I think those non-blogging working moms sleep more and probably do more laundry. I just need to write and so here we are.

The crux of the matter, I believe, is this balance of professional and private life. This weekend I was commiserating with two friends (a lawyer and a bank vice president) about which day camps we would send our children to over the summer. We all need camps that mimic our work hours.

Part of me would like to be in the carpool line at 2:50 in the afternoon. Have you ever picked up a prescription at 3:00 in the afternoon? Ah...so we have noticed that pharmacies and hospitals do not close when schools do.

You know what is a little crazy. One day when I was off work, I took both kids to the dentist, then Pretty Girl to preschool, then JBB to school, then errands, then I had one hour, then it was time for carpool line. As I sat there waiting to inch forward, I actually missed my patients at work! AND I felt guilty for it!

I mentally berated myself...
Lipstick: "What is with you? Are you never happy? What would it take to make you happy? When you are at work, you want to be at carpool line! When you are at carpool line, you want to be at work! You are happy with the money you make, yet you want to have it without working...but you miss work! What is WRONG with you!"

Well, digging a little bit into that survey, I think at least 59% of women have probably berated themselves in the same way. What I want is to lead two lives. Or be nocturnal. Maybe work all the time and be mommy all the time too. Or perhaps have a part-time schedule. Ahhh.....wouldn't that be nice? Maybe just work four days a week? Have just one little extra day to get stuff done? Maybe. Probably not all it's cracked up to be. Plus it doesn't exist in pharmacy without some strange caveats (that would be boring to most readers...like still rotating through all shifts, etc).

Here is what I think of the ever-elusive, much heralded Balance:

-You have to do what you love or you will be grumpy and resentful.
The Lipstick example is that by the time I was through with maternity leave I actually missed work so much that I was kind of depressed. I need the routine and the interaction with people. I don't do well without it.

-Get a hobby or you will be grumpy and resentful.
The Lipstick example is that in April 2008 I was googling the words preppy clothes and found preppy blogs and I thought, "hmmmm, I think I can write some stuff."

-When you are with your children, look them in the eye.
The Lipstick example is that I was doing too much multi-tasking and JBB told me I wasn't paying attention to him. When I can't pay attention, I explain and apologize. Now he understands that he can't drive himself places while I put on make-up in the backseat because I was looking at the Lego tower he built while I should have been getting ready. Major milestone.

-If you are doing all of the above, other stuff won't get done. Decide if you can live with that or not.The Lipstick example is that I don't care that much if things aren't perfect. Mommy Lipstick's house is, however, perfect. Growing up, I thought everyone actually lived that way. Hahahahahaha. Now I have my own house. Mr. Lipstick cannot pick up after me quickly enough. You will not simultaneously have all of the laundry done, the house perfect, and the refrigerator stocked with healthy food while working full-time and meeting yours and your family's emotional needs. Not even with a maid. So get over it. Relax.

I am only 35 so that's all I've got.
Oh, yeah...one last thing.
Always wear something on your lips.

Time Warp

Now surely I am not the only one who does this sort of thing...writes a post that seems like yesterday and then looks at the date and it says (gasp!), "Wednesday." Then I think, well how did that happen? It was sort of like this. Thursday I went to bed at 8:30 because I was falling asleep everywhere and Mr. Lipstick sent me upstairs. Friday night I cooked a big giant country supper (complete with cornbread) and made a colossal mess in the kitchen. Saturday was Saturday. I was all set to post on Sunday and my quirky little laptop kept giving me the Blue Screen of Death. Hello Monday night.

This weekend we watched a lot of football, of course and I have to include this personal message to my dearest Peyton Manning. Thanks for winning today yesterday and also for your overall athletic brilliance. I am super excited about seeing you in the Superbowl. I have really been enjoying all of your past commercials on youtube. I am sure we are both hoping that there are some more endorsement deals in a couple of weeks. Hugs, Lipstick.

Another funny thing about time...the 80s are apparently longer ago than they seem. See this cutie...

He was six years old when I graduated from high school, but has now grown into New Orleans' favorite son. Imagine kicking a game winning field goal. In overtime. That sends your team to the Superbowl. For the first time. That's gotta feel good. And I love how all those Saints' fans write, "Geaux Saints!" and spell it all French-ish. Now that's cute, what with the fleur-de-lis and all.

Time for some thank you's...
Lisa Porter is an artist who crafts the single most beautiful blog I have ever seen. Somehow each post transports me to the destination of her choosing and relaxes me as if I were actually there. Bookmark her and thank me. Right now, I am thanking her, because she has bestowed an award upon me. Many, many thanks.

My bloggy buddy Slam Dunks has graciously bestowed upon me these awards.


This is a special treat because while I really don't know how Slam Dunks and I found one another's blogs, I am very grateful for the serendipity.

I get a bit flustered about passing along awards. I regularly read lots and lots of blogs. Here are some blogs that hold sentimental value for me...
*Tres Poshe Preppy - the very first blog I ever read
*More Wine Please-we started blogging about the same time, it seems. I would like to have margs with her IRL.
*Sasha Says-Sasha was kind enough to give my blog its own domain name. She also knows MWP and Multi-Slacking Mamalicious IRL. These three ladies were some of my first blog finds and are still among my daily faves.
*Fashion Herald-totally chic, cool, former model in NYC and she reads me and I read her. I think she has been commenting since my third post. Tight hugs.
*The Preppy Princess-she has been there since the beginning and offers the most fabulous, funny, and insightful comments that often deserve a blog post themselves. Good thing she has a delightful blog of her own. We are even Facebook friends too. Tight hugs to you too TP.

There are some more hugs too...
Thank you for the comments on my previous post. I have read them again and again and again. Thank you all for sharing that you too are enduring long lasting grief. I can imagine those comments weren't easy to post. It would have been easy to just exit out and yet you posted. Thank you. Thank you dearly.

Also, thank you to the readers who are still commenting on this post about racism. The day after I posted this, I lost two followers. I was semi-sad. What blogger isn't a little sad when the number of followers declines? Interestingly I have gained several more followers since that post. I am very grateful for that.

Mr. Lipstick said perhaps someone was offended by the expletive in the title. Maybe so. My Southern raisin' dictates that I should apologize for offending anyone, but somehow that assaults my sensibilities. I was that angry. Still feel that way. Sometimes Lipstick smolders a bit and sometimes Lipstick explodes. Usually in laughter. Thanks for coming along for the ride.

Time Distracts and Toilet Paper Wipes Away Tears

I have posted many times about my dear grandfather DeeDa. Here and here and here. I have a photo in my bathroom of Nonna and DeeDa, Mommy and Daddy Lipstick, and Mr. Lipstick from about 1999 or so. It is before Alzheimer's disease cruelly and organically robbed DeeDa of his memory and the nuances of his personality.

Tonight for no particular reason I looked at that picture longer than I usually do. The tears began to flow slowly at first and then more ardently as if they had been waiting all day for the precise moment to be released. He has been in heaven since 2004. Time doesn't heal a damn thing. Everyone knows that. It is a fairly decent distractor. That and responsibilities and bills and parties and runny noses.

I don't like Kleenex or more properly "facial tissue." Isn't it easier to refer to the general product merely by the most ubiquitous brand name? I think it is silly. I already have very soft toilet paper that is perfectly capable of wiping away tears. I have never met anyone who didn't think this was weird.

I wiped away my tears and felt an odd compulsion to take a photo of my tear-streaked face. My family is a private one, but I like to write about my deepest feelings and my silliest amusements for all the world to read on the internet. Well, I would really love for the entire the world to read it. I am insanely grateful to the fraction of world who has found me. Tight hugs to you. A kiss too. You know who you are.

Here is Lipstick. No make-up. Except for some residual waterproof mascara and some chapstick. Fluorescent lights from the well-stocked laundry room. That is to say, well-stocked with dirty laundry.

Why is this cathartic to post this silly picture? Well, fiddle dee dee, I don't know. It may even be a wee bit narcissistic. I do feel better though.

Something else that is great for feeling better...Peyton Manning and all of the delightful commercials available for viewing on youtube. Presenting my current favorite...

Enjoy.

Fluorescent Lights and Linoleum Floors

Even Target overdoses on Made-In-China and broad-market, pseudo-luxe. I certainly have plenty of things and stuffs and gadgets and items and goods from Target (including the pajamas and socks I am currently wearing), but sometimes I find the red shopping carts and endless aisles an assault to my senses. Still a Big Box...perhaps just a nicer bow.

Enjoy this video from the folks at Jib Jab. It's from 2005, but it's one of my faves.

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

What Makes It Real?

Is it Anderson Cooper with a furrowed brow looking concerned yet still handsome wearing an almost too tight t-shirt? Is it Bono speaking before the UN or organizing a benefit concert? Is it President Obama pledging immediate aid? Maybe it's the ubiquitous Red Cross symbols?

I am a former news junkie. I could scarcely satisfy my appetite for politics with every cable and network outlet even with the annoying news ticker at the bottom of the screen. Then something happened after the election. I was burned out. I am sorry to say that all of the issues that I was so passionate about blurred into a boring haze. Scanning through msnbc.com is all that I can muster these days. I am ashamed to admit it. I even expect disparaging comments. I deserve them. I even feel a measure of sadness for posting only about Twilight in the wake of such human suffering.

Speaking of human suffering, have you noticed the way that the media tends to sensationalize child abuse or abduction cases? When I read those, I mourn. All mothers do. I can't get it out of my mind. For weeks. I have anxiety. Fear. I pray for souls lost. I have tears at random moments. I can't deal with it. If, you ask, I am so affected, then why don't I volunteer? I expect those comments. I deserve them. I don't know other than Mr. Lipstick is in law school and when I am not at work, I am taking care of my own children. My house is often chaotic. My sanity resides in this blog. I am deeply thankful for those who read me.

So what makes this earthquake real? The death toll? I can't comprehend that. I have 266 friends on Facebook. I didn't even know I knew that many people. One hundred thousand people may have perished. I have no frame of reference for that.

This Associated Press photo (photographer's name not listed) made me stop.

This photo made me pray.

This photo made it real.

Totally Embarrassing, Totally Pleasurable

Here's some Twilight fan-fiction that is actually pretty good. It's called "Twilight Continues" and (shhhh!) it's rather addicting.

Vanity Fair has it's own Twilight addiction. Enjoy.

You know what may be most embarrassing of all? I just don't grow tired of the Twilight books. It would be more lofty if I just couldn't stop reading Ayn Rand or Virginia Woolf. More lofty, but just not as pleasurable.

It's Treasure to Me

Young children away from home always need spare clothes. An extra pull-up. An emergency toy. Pictures of family. Socks. Most of us moms have meticulously packed these items in a Ziploc bag for storage in a cubbyhole at daycare or mother's day out. Unless they are needed, these things are usually forgotten.

Today when I was hugging Pretty Girl goodbye at school, JBB's former teacher gave me his Ziploc bag. It had somehow fallen behind the cubbyholes and become lost for nearly three years. Until yesterday.

Something about that most ordinary collection of items is poignant to me. The picture on top is of JBB wearing Superman pajamas sitting next to a 3 month old Pretty Girl who is so enthralled with her big brother that she can't be bothered to gaze at the camera. The toy is a pound puppy that a neighbor gave to JBB and the shirt has a stain.

This dusty Ziploc bag is a time capsule of sorts, something that I packed at one particular moment in time that is now gone forever. JBB no longer has need of such things as an emergency toy and Pretty Girl is no longer a tiny baby. I'm not sad about that. But it seems like I packed this Ziploc bag a very short time ago, and if it really seems that way in my mind, then I am quite certain that their current and precious stage of childhood will be just as fleeting. That makes the tears race down my cheeks.

Pump Fake

Since the delightful presence of snow always trumps bitterly cold 18 degree temperatures in The South, JBB and I layered everything that looked warm, braved the elements, and played a little football.

Don't we just look ready for the NFL? Well...I mean, look how high JBB threw the ball and straight too and we are both left-handed. Of course, there is that little matter of our accuracy and precision being highly dependent on our close proximity to one another.

One thing about living in The South is that the typical southern girl has a paltry amount of real winter gear. You know, the sort that people in Illinois, Ohio, or Michigan wear while shoveling snow out of their driveways. The only interesting cold weather fashion you'll see are the fake L.L. Bean boots that I have had since 1994 (and that still look brand new) and the fuzzy leopard Hello Kitty hat.

We stayed outside until Mr. Lipstick told us we were crazy. Then we came inside where we shivered and shook until we downed two cups of hot chocolate. We supported our NFL addiction with Dallas vs. Philadelphia, Baltimore vs. New England, and Arizona vs. Green Bay. Do you monitor how much television your children watch? I do too. I don't think football counts though.

I do need to watch what I say. Little ears can hear. Freshly popped popcorn in our laps, we only had ten minutes until the beginning of the Arizona vs. Green Bay game. We found soccer on a nearby channel and the kids begged to watch. JBB was very excited to mention that the rest of the world called soccer "football" and Pretty Girl kept pointing at the tv, saying, "look, Mommy." I was embarrassingly bored, and eventually I unearthed the remote from the blankets and little feet and babydolls. I pointed it at the tv with urgency and said, "let's see if there's some real football on yet." Gasp! What an Ugly American I am! It turned out to be a pretty good game though.

Is It Possible to End Racism (or WTF?)

I was just in a retail location and a woman inquired of me, "a colored girl just gave me this price. I just wanted to double check with you to make sure it was right."

Were it physiologically possible for my blood to boil, it would have. Actually I am shaking as I type this. Please forgive my parenthetical title. It was my verbal expression.

Frogs and Turtles in Palm Springs...Gasp!

Since my bloggy buddy/idol LPC had a giggle that I think Lilly Pulitzer clothes merely make me look like a tablecloth instead of a fashionable vacationing socialite, I thought I would show y'all some pictures in me in Lilly attire. Now I hope that my fabulous male readers (who include the most prolific blogger I know, Dr. Grumpy, the very talented Slam Dunks, and my most esteemed -and very cool- colleague from work) do not flee Lipstick-land like Tiger Woods from good sense.

Well, here you go. Lipstick in Lilly.

 

It really is Lilly. I promise.


I don't think I look so much like a tablecloth in this one as I do a table runner. Maybe from Pier One. I really liked this super cute pattern. I tried to like it on me. Fortunately, it was really saggy in my nether regions (or less cryptically and more crude, ass) so the purchase decision was made for me. Very easy. I like easy.

Magic Hands (and I Think Comcast Is Catholic)

I am about to shamelessly brag. Yesterday we filled 757 prescriptions. In ten hours. Today wasn't as busy, but by the end my mind felt like a bowl of grits and my feet felt like a pile of rocks. Since I don't like that very much, I made an emergency call to my salon and spa. It just so happened that they had an opening for a 30 minute massage.

Upon arrival, I immediately felt relaxed. What is it about that ethereal, mostly flute-like spa music that is so tranquilizing? If I heard it in an elevator, I would probably be annoyed. In a spa, well, it reminds me of butterflies' wings and clouds and ocean waves.

Now here's a little TMI...but we're all friends here, right? Do you prefer a man or a woman massage therapist? You know how they say, "get undressed to what you feel is comfortable"? So...let's chat. I'll go first. I don't really care-man or woman. I'm really amazed at how strong massage therapists' hands are. I can rub Mr. Lipstick's neck for about 45 seconds and I feel like I need carpal tunnel surgery. Regarding undressing...do people actually leave clothes (or fragments of clothes) on during a massage? I can't imagine...seems like that would be very uncomfortable. I'm not so much modest though. Can't you tell? I am writing about this on the internet.

Well, I was profoundly relaxed after my massage and I was completely joyful to return home to my sweet children and eight feet of sparkle. Oh yes, my Christmas tree is still up. Still lit. I'm still lovin' it.

It is my understanding that those who are Catholic leave up Christmas decorations until Epiphany. Our local hospital does that. Even though I'm not Catholic, I have an enduring fascination with All Things Catholic. The last few years I have left our tree up until Epiphany. Today I asked one of my Catholic friends if she thought that was sacrilegious or even blasphemous to borrow that tradition. She said she didn't think so. I hope you all don't think so either.

I really think Comcast is doing it too because would you believe they still have the Sounds of the Seasons music channel. I am listening to Pat Boone sing "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing" from 1959 right now. Of course, I've heard it about a million times since Thanksgiving. Maybe it's good Epiphany is only a couple of days away...

Shooting a Twenty Ought Ten

Well, I've been reading all my favorite blogs tonight and I've encountered many New Year's resolutions. Most of them are quite serious. Very well-planned. Lots of people are exercising and praying and praying that they will keep up with their exercising.

I actually forgot to make any resolutions which is fairly typical of me. I feel inspired now so the following are a few of my resolutions. They are in no particular order (which is also fairly typical of me).

1. I am currently watching Storytellers: Snoop Dogg. I think in 2010 I am going to listen to more rap and hip hop music. Yeah, yeah.

2. I am also going to sweep more and spill less.

3. I have approximately 1500 pictures stored on my laptop. That can't be good. I think I am going to buy a new laptop. Or call Geek Squad. Or force myself to use that flash drive. Or buy a new laptop.

4. Save up to buy some Christian Louboutins. Pros: I will look chic walking around in them. Cons: I will not look chic if I prop my feet up on people's coffee tables to show off the red sole.

5. See if I can make it through a box of Crest Whitening strips. They make my teeth feel like they are going to fall out and I can't get any work done when I am putting Sensodyne on every thirty minutes.

6. Try to remember stuff that I forget a lot.

7. Buy some better looking clothes to wear around the house. Mr. Lipstick is getting really tired of my sorority shirts from 1992 through 1996. He says they are not sexy. Whatever.

8. Attempt again this summer to wear a Lilly Pulitzer dress. Last year I gave up because I thought I just looked like a tablecloth.

9. Try to do more math in my head. Maybe. I'm hoping it's in my genes. Daddy Lipstick double checks the grocery list by adding it up in his head. He can do long division in his head too. For real.

10. Go to bed earlier like an actual, real adult.

Good night, y'all.

No One Can Party Like my Pretty Girl

I packed it all. Sleeping bag. Hello Kitty pillow. Beloved fuzzy lion and brand new stuffed cat. Oh yeah, and pajamas.

We all were having a marvelous time. Mr. Lipstick, Pretty Girl, and I attended a relaxed NYE hosted by a great friend from pharmacy school (JBB was still livin' it up at Mommy and Daddy Lipstick's house). Laughter was effortless, food and drink were plentiful, and the entire atmosphere was comfortable. Never mind we had an entire house at our disposal; most of the men settled in the garage and most of the women sat around the kitchen table. The children were happy with each other and all available toys and especially the two dogs.

About 10:30, when everyone else's children had crashed, Pretty Girl was still prancing around, chasing the dogs, and asking me to fix the bow in her hair. I decided I had better at least put on her pajamas and cut her off from the apple juice.

An hour later, she was still going strong except she had some company. Our host's two year old son apparently didn't want to be with the boring old sleeping kids and he came downstairs and joined the crowd. They played rather well together except for one minor problem.

About a hundred small wooden blocks were on the floor. They played for a few minutes, the Host's Son lost interest, then Pretty Girl picked them up. ALL of them. She carefully put the blocks in the cloth bag and manhandled it across the floor. Host's Son immediately picked up the bag and dumped ALL of the blocks on the floor. I swear in front of the Internet that Pretty Girl screamed, "I just cleaned that up!!!" A super-cool pharm-mommy friend of mine deadpanned, "Honey, you'll be sayin' that all of your life." The whole thing was very funny and I'm sure more laughter would have ensued if we were not so busy trying to predict what event would detonate our two year olds' late night party mood.

Midnight came. Mr. Lipstick and I attempted a romantic kiss, but it was a little more on the harried and clumsy side since Pretty Girl crashed into us mid-head-tilt. My friend the host took lots of pictures of us. Here are two. We wanted some with the two two-year-old party animals (and don't you know, we are already a little concerned about what they are gonna be like come freshman year...), but of course, they were off and running. No picture happened. Sigh. But get this...we didn't leave the party until nearly 20 minutes 'til 1. Yes. Pretty Girl wasn't ready to go.