What Is Your "I am Woman, Hear Me Roar" Moment?

Today while Mr. Lipstick was far away studying some yawn-inducing negotiable instruments, I carried in a sealed FIFTY POUND bag of cat litter. By myself. Then I poured a little bit in the cat's box and carried it back out to the garage. I felt like roaring because I weigh 108 pounds. (Don't hate...I'm freakishly short. In fact, I'm so short that I'm barely even here). Granted I was stooped over like granny in the garden and I was gruntin' like a pig, but nobody said you had to be graceful if you were going to roar.

Alright y'all...share some stories and start bragging.

Get Well Soon

I bought the 45 of "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" back in 1988. I listened to it on a record player that looked just like this one.

I've seen VH1's Poison: Behind the Music about a zillion times. My real 80s hair band crush was (blush) C.C. Deville, but Bret Michaels was a guyliner's width close second.

I was pretty shocked to read that Bret Michaels is currently in critical condition in a Los Angelos hospital undergoing treatment for a subarachnoid hemorrhage. Lots of people are worried about him too. Here's a link to his website which as of this posting just looks like a word document because it apparently can't support all the traffic. Check out this article from the Los Angelos Times for more info.

Prayers.

Well, Alright Then

You've probably seen the treasure that is People of Wal-Mart, but have you seen this?

Please don't miss the butterfly tat on the neck. She doesn't want you to miss that.

I actually rather like this photo especially since there are a fair number of academically minded folks who make the argument that People of Wal-Mart merely exploits a disenfranchised, under-represented, overly-ridiculed, thoroughly authentic segment of American society. Additionally, these folks contend that laughing at those Wal-Mart shoppers is a cruel expression of hatred toward Americans who are unable to afford the niceties offered by higher-end mass market retailers like Target.

It seems to me that most academics prefer to ignore that some members of American society simply prefer to show their nether regions or fat rolls in public, just as this shopper decided to clarify her perceived social class for us all and declare her pride in that er, class. Well...cheers, I guess. Thanks for being loud and proud.

Duh

Please, please tell me that I am not the only one who gets randomly nervous in some social setting and prattles on like a sixth grader invited to the eighth grade dance. I can remember the last time I did something this clumsy and I was at Adventure River in Memphis, Tennessee on a youth group trip in 1987. I have managed to make an idiot of myself a time or zillion in the last twenty-three years, but these two instances really stand out in my memory.

And that's the other thing...it's not enough to look stupid in real life, you have to live with looking stupid IN YOUR HEAD for the next however-long-it-takes until you decide you are over it. I have elected to write about my social foible on the internet. I figure if I know that I looked stupid and the person I was talking to knows that I looked stupid, then it is only fair that everyone who reads me should be in on the secret too. I have a real live, honest-to-goodness blog account because I feel oh-so-better. Ahhh...the power of the online confessional. Oh yeah, lest I forget-I felt like my outfit was stupid too, but y'all know me...my lipstick was solidly in place, and I mean to tell you that back in 1987 at Adventure River, I was wearing lipstick then too. I'm totally serious.

SeeSaw with the Fat Kid (er, Exercise Challenged)

You know the heavy kid in elementary school...pudgy, doughy, always with uneven red cheeks and usually unfairly ridiculed by his peers for nothing more than that distinctive appearance? Of course, those kids often grow up with a highly developed sense of mettle, prone to success, and not surprisingly are the source of much envy at the commonly dreaded high school reunion.

Eventual success aside, these kids are horrible on a seesaw, disrupting the delicate balance that happens when two evenly matched kids alternately bound in the air with the most fun use of a fulcrum anywhere. With the fat kid...well, the lighter kid is abruptly launched high above the ground only to crash in a most un-fun and uncontrolled way.

I feel like the light kid. After landing.

I have a crazy schedule. Who doesn't, right?

I wrote about my working mom philosophies here.

Lately with the warm weather I have been playing outside with the kids after work. Benign. Fun. Source of some vitamin D production. Cause of immense schedule interruption. The fat kid is on the seesaw.

I haven't figured out a balance yet.

My first title for this blog was, "A Balancing Act." I nixed that very quickly because it was so freakin' boring. Hmmm...perhaps not unlike this post. Kind and gentle readers, thank you for your patience with me.

This working mom is learning. Sometimes one more thing may as well be one hundred more things.

I am pleased to report though that I have successfully cleaned out my closet and that I have found more pink and green than I remembered. Ah...now that is a little bit of bliss.

I hope you all are well. Kisses from Lipstick. Sorry my long-wearing L'oreal lipgloss doesn't wipe off easily.

*Read this post from I Ate a Bagel for Breakfast. She's good, y'all. Check her out.

Sleep Aid

I have discovered a new sleep aid. Completely non-pharmacological. It is astonishingly effective. Every evening after work I race into the house, put on something tacky, and then run outside with the kids. I practically need a nine o'clock bedtime, and I hate to go sleep...well, unless it about two a.m. or some time that is considered generally unreasonable.

I have discovered that I need NEED a football coach. JBB is apparently a complete natural, and I...throw like a girl. Well, imagine that.

I hope y'all get to enjoy the spring weather. Sleep tight.

Mob Boss

Preppy 101 and JDB were gracious enough to include me in The Preppy Mafia and I tell you what, I am just giddy about it. It involves a frog holding a wine glass and a fair amount of pink and green which in my opinion constitutes quite a bit of fabulousness.

Now for the mafioso secrets...
1. Who is your style icon?
Well...Jennifer Aniston. She always looks cute and sexy. Almost never preppy though. I don't really worry about that. I try to always look cute, hope Mr. Lipstick thinks I look sexy, and I add pink and green.

2. What is your favorite socialite lit book?
I have never read one. I do love Class: A Guide through the American Status System by Paul Fussell. Originally published in 1983, much of the minutiae is outdated. There are still countless little intriguing insights like, "The worst thing is being neat when, socially, you're supposed to be sloppy, or clean when you're supposed to be filthy" (pg 58) or "If you feel no need to explicate your allusions or in anyway explain what you mean, you are probably talking with someone in your [social] class." (pg 18). Truly interesting reading. Just to dispel the myth that I sit around and read very lofty things all the time, I stumbled upon this on Amazon one day. Another interesting read is Bobos in Paradise: The New Upper Class and How They Got There by David Brooks. More perusing on Amazon.

3. Favorite party theme?
More of a holiday than a theme...Halloween. I like to look scary.

4. Go-to Halloween costume?
Something scary. Last year I was a devil (gasp!) and since it was FUN, I think it is my new go-to costume.

5. Extravagance you cannot live without?
heh heh...oh, you mean...hmmmm....shopping. That would be shopping.

6. Living person you admire?
Nonna and Mommy and Daddy Lipstick

7. Greatest fear?
I wrote about it here.

8. Trait you deplore in yourself?
Really? Awww...come on, almost not fair. I could write for a long time. I have no sense of time. AT ALL. I have clocks everywhere. Still late. I worry too much about stuff. I forget stuff and I drop stuff too. I spill things too. Moving on.

9. Which talent would you most like to have?
To sing. Mr. Lipstick has the single most beautiful, resonant, lilting, versatile, and poignant voice I have ever heard. I would like to sing along in real life.

10. Greatest achievement?
Lipstick, Pharm.D. 2002

Pssst...join the mob...
Tres Poshe Preppy (the first blog I ever read)
The Preppy Princess
Privilege
Legally Pink and Green
Pink and Green in the Pacific Northwest
Preppy Cricket
The Life of a Suburban Princess
Tickled Pink and Green
The Tale of a Southern Belle

I have a sneaking suspicion that some of y'all are in da pink mob, so this mention is really a bit of hero worship. I enjoy your pink and green immensely. Cheers!

Nine Foot Carrot and What Easter Means to Me and Many Thanks to You All

First of all...the thanks. Thank you from Me to all of You.

Thank you for your kind and gracious comments on my last post. I have oceans-wide enjoyed reading them. I am looking forward to visiting your blogs. I have been collapsing in bed at night without even turning on my laptop, but not in a sad way...there has been a lot of this

and this.

There has been much laughter and quite a bit of dirt too.

About that nine foot carrot...
Yesterday we went to our local art museum for their annual Easter festival. They have egg hunts (during which Pretty Girl gained a serious stash),

sno-cones, face fainting, and of course, art projects. It was a beautiful and picturesque day, and I would be hard pressed to think of a way to make it more perfect (except if I could have talked Mr. Lipstick into getting into the pictures instead of taking all of them...sigh).

Oh yes, and I forgot to mention the gardens. A little sampling...

Here we are with the nine foot carrot:

By the way, JBB is holding a balloon sword. Here is a better picture of that (I swear I did not watch all that much Beavis and Butthead)...along with the nearly-overcome-by-heat Easter bunny. I am wearing bunny ears made by Pretty Girl. Mr. Lipstick made me a pair too. (Awwww.....yep, it totally was a perfect day. Can't you just hear that Perfect Day song from "Legally Blonde" playing in the background? Well, almost.)

We were all fairly exhausted at the end of all the fun, although the entertainment took a bit of a toll on some more than others.

Poor little thing...that situation happened even though we only live two miles from the art gallery.

And now for what Easter means to me...


I believe that Jesus Christ rose from the dead to save a sinful and damned humankind that could not and would not save itself.

My favorite saying about this is the Apostle's Creed. Our church mailed the Apostle's Creed this month (along with the times for the Easter services). I taped it up in the bathroom. Notice I have a crucifix there too. I am not Catholic. I think I have written before (probably in a humorous way) that I am fascinated with all things Catholic. Actually, it is more serious than that. I wish Protestant churches displayed the crucifix. It is after all the center of Christianity...with the death, there is no resurrection. I like to remember it more than once a year. I think it's good to remember it all the time. My sins put Him there. I don't need to forget it. Sermon by Lipstick.

The Apostle's Creed...
I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth; and in Jesus Christ His only Son, our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; He descended into hell; the third day He rose again from the dead; He ascended into heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead; I believe in the Holy Ghost; the holy catholic church; the communion of saints; the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting. Amen.

Many thanks, again to you, my dear readers. Happy Easter.