Posted in Slices of (my) life on July 10, 2007| 13 Comments »
I’m serious here. You open your mailbox, and what’s in it? Advertising circulars from places you haven’t the faintest interest in, bills you owe and bills you forgot you owe, maybe a postcard reminding you to make a dental appointment. Bor-ing.
But wait! What’s THIS? A genuine, hand-addressed letter to you? Could it be? Your hands tremble, your breath comes a little faster, and you try to remember where you put that elegant little letter opener (more…)
Posted in Slices of (my) life on July 2, 2007| 1 Comment »
Do you really want to see how heavily you tread upon the earth? Go to theEarth Day Footprint Quiz.
The only way I got my “footprint” down to less than average? I clicked 7 people living in my 500-sq-ft-or-smaller house, all vegetarians, no cars. They didn’t ask if me and my 6 closest (hey, 500 sq ft) friends were all nudists. (Pound of pesticides for every t-shirt and jeans outfit, donchaknow.)
Come ON. Don’t you think they ought to give us credit for being in the resale industry? MY t-shirt and my jeans are recycled and of course, my goal is to have EVERYONE wearing the same…except for my treasured consignors, who must keep shopping in “real” stores to keep my shop supplied! 😉
Posted in Slices of (my) life on June 19, 2007| 5 Comments »
It’s always puzzled me that restaurants don’t do more with email and email newsletters. Every time I decide to go out to dinner, it’s the old “Where do you wanna go?””I dunno, where do YOU wanna?”
Just imagine if I’d gotta an email reminder from a local restaurant…how likely it would be that we’d spend our bucks there?
Now I live in an area which is (more…)
Posted in Slices of (my) life on May 28, 2007| 2 Comments »
Memorial Day, to me, is peonies. Oh, I know In Flander’s Field the poppies grow/ between the crosses row on row but to a Long Island born-and-bred girl, peonies, lush and heavy with satin petals, bespeak Memorial Day.
We’d cut the heavy blossoms, crawling with ants, sprinkling pollen on our young fingers, for the soldiers’ graves. There were miles of them. Many graves had peony bushes planted and blooming on them, but to those dead soldiers whose families were remiss, or missing, we gave our backyard peonies set in mayonnaise jars we’d saved up all winter.
Peonies were, to a young girl, the ballgowns of flowers. They promised life and love and romantic adventures and endless possibilities and the coursing of warm blood in supple limbs. Peonies were the very rhythm of life.
And those cold dead soldiers could have none of it. Because some old man decided that his space in life was threatened, he sent a young man into war. He condemned that young man to die, to never caress a peony or his baby’s warm tummy. That young man never got to kiss his mother’s aged cheek, buy an armful of flowers for the nice lady next door, or even lie on the grass and watch a line of ants make their way homeward.
On Memorial Day, we can only remember the soldiers killed in old men’s wars. The other days of the year, can’t we stop those old men from killing young men?
Posted in Slices of (my) life on May 13, 2007| 2 Comments »
Okay, I KNOW that I have devoted my life to recycling stuff, and if it weren’t for Wretched Excess, I wouldn’t have a career. But this article, How to Wed Lavishly for Less, is truly over the top.
The woman “saved” money on buying a wedding dress “nothing too poufy” at Michael’s, the Manhattan consignment shop (and a very nice shop it is, no reflection on them!) We won’t discuss the travel from Boston to NY (at least she probably took public transportation!), and she’s “smart” enough to hire a DJ instead of a band, thus saving $1000 or more. Experts advise her: “Choose your party favors wisely” (excuse me, I thought party favors were for 5-yr-olds so they didn’t whine. What adult needs another tsotske in her/his life?) and “pin-spot your flower arrangements.”
 The total kicker? The woman is 32 years old and “renewing her vows.” Guess Wedding #1 didn’t make her feel like Queen for a Day quite long enough (wonder if her parents are still paying it off?) Think her husband has a tendency to stray? Think I’d blame him if he did?
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