Browsing Tag

Voices

— Essentials —

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Considering my rocky start, it’s a wonder I’ve developed anything that could be considered style. In college my decor was Early Affordable which included bookshelves and an “entertainment center” made from bricks and boards found in an alley. My dining table was a giant wooden spool that once held telephone cables, and the dining chairs were smaller versions of the same spool.

Least you think I’m too matchy-matchy, the smaller spools just happened to be in the same alley.

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— Life —

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Whenever there’s a holiday approaching, television networks like to trot out a particular kind of film. Typically there’s a feisty women – either single or divorced – who falls in love with a widower, the most sympathetic of all the male character types. A divorced man or confirmed bachelor is imbued with potential problems, but a widower is a good man capable of great love. What could be simpler? Continue Reading

— Essentials —

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It was my friend Patrick who warned me about the dangers of theme decorating. I had regaled him with my dream of a Scheherazade-style dining room: kilim rugs on the floor, ikat runners down the table, camel-shaped teacups, brass candlesticks, giant paisleys painted on the walls, and heaping platters of Basmati rice on the buffet.

The whole scheme made Patrick nervous. He didn’t want to see my dining room jumping the shark. In the upper echelons of the design world, theme decorating is frowned upon. It’s a big fat no-no.

God forbid you decorate an entire house in beach décor when a tasteful trug of seashells will suffice. And even more pox upon you if your house is not situated on an actual beach.

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— Relationships —

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February 19th kicks off the Fierce 50 Campaign, a group of 50 top women bloggers–over 50–who are collaborating with brands to crush stereotypes about women and age. I’m excited to be part of this amazing group and want to introduce one of my fellow Fierce 50 women, Annette Findling.

Annette helps women create personalized wealth management strategies that give them financial independence. More than anything, Annette wants women to have choices.

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— Relationships —

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It’s well-documented that women with body image issues frequently struggle in their intimate relationships. Until now, I’ve never discussed this subject, even with my closest friends, yet I am one of these women. So with Valentines upon us – and a plethora of red, lacy underwear on display in every lingerie shop – now feels like a good time to raise the subject here. Continue Reading

— Life —

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Will someone please explain to me why–and this is not a rhetorical question–smoke alarm batteries always fail in the middle of the night?

Yesterday morning I was snuggled in bed, dreaming I had a bag of delicious fruit-and-cheese-filled pastries, I’d baked, to get the attention of a handsome movie star. (Side-note: Although I am allergic to wheat, I am certain I could have eaten these with absolutely no ill-effects.) I was also certain that my delectables would seal the deal, and I would win his affections.

As if to put a punctuation mark on that thought, the smoke alarm outside the bedroom door went off!

I must have slipped back into dreamtime immediately, because I saw myself fetch my broom, turn it toward the ceiling, and with a swing that would do any polo-player proud, I whacked that little white dome clean off the ceiling. Trailing all of it’s wires like a tiny electronic octopus, it flew straight through the dining room window and out into the night!

I remember my satisfaction upon seeing the starburst-shaped hole in the window, the glowing full Moon right in front of me, and feeling the burst of fresh, cool air. I thought, “I’ll clean the glass in the morning. Now I can go back to sleep.”

Minutes later, on the second chirp, I put the pillow over my head. By the third chirp, my sweetheart, who can sleep through anything if he sleeps on his “good ear,” was also wide awake. I turned to him, “Do you think this will wake them?” as I pointed upstairs to our noisy neighbors. “I hope so,” he dead-panned.

Here it was, 4:30 am and maintenance didn’t open till 8:00. We rose, brewed some coffee, tried to replace the batteries ourselves and surprisingly, couldn’t. So we put in earplugs and sat at the kitchen table in our bathrobes, drinking coffee as if this were an everyday occurrence.

I was writing and enjoying my second cup of coffee, no longer grumbling, when the alarm inexplicably stopped chirping.

Wait… I think I just answered my own question… Smoke alarms go off in the middle of the night because God needs a good laugh!

XO

 

 

 

— Relationships —

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Whenever it’s around Valentine’s Day, I get asked a lot about divorce and dating. I never know what to say. Yes, I’m successfully repartnered with the boy next door, but unless you’re prepared to buy a lot of houses next to recently single guys… I’m not sure that’s a surefire strategy for meeting your soulmate.

My friends are all very interested in online dating. I totally get the appeal: It seems like an LL Bean catalogue filled with men you get to take home.

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— Relationships —

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My parents helped me so much with my kids when they were little. Loving, experienced… and free caregivers. It don’t get much better than that. Fortunately my folks lived close, so often my kids went to their place.

But many grandparents live far away, or take care of grandkids at their children’s home. Even when coming for a social visit, they often end up babysitting, and trust me. They love it. Continue Reading

— Life —

My Sharon Tate look, 1969. Photos by Robert Lambert.
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It was August, 1969. I was married to Adam Linter who managed a club called The Salvation, on 1 Sheridan Square in New York City’s West Village. I used to go there early in the evening to dance. One night Jimi Hendricks was there, all by himself, just tuning his guitar. No one else was there. He saw me and sang a minute of “Foxy Lady,” then took off his wristband and gave it to me. It was animal skin. Continue Reading

— Life —

How Much Botox Will You Need?
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Everytime I consider having some “work done,” I learn something that makes me pause. Last month Anna, my aesthetician, gave me a facial. We’ve been friends for 20 years. I love visiting Anna because she’s a voracious reader and researches organic versus non organic foods, vitamins and skin care. She’s a walking encyclopedia concerning anything you put on the skin and into the body.

As I’m going on about how with each passing day I look more like my mother, and I’m thinking about Botox, Anna stops working on my face and says, “Uh huh… “ Not the kind of “Uh huh” that reconfirms she’s listening, but the kind of “Uh huh” Sherlock Holmes might have uttered as he processed a new clue. I love it when she does that, because I know she’s about to give me a kernel of well-researched information.

“Like everything else we put on our skin, did you know Botox is processed by our liver?” Anna makes it sound like more of a statement than a question.

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