Just when it seems like a bit of good news would be exceedingly welcomed, comes this true story (I’ve checked it with Snopes) about a woman hand feeding hummingbirds.
Isn’t it great that with the Internet we have a way to easily share these experiences that we might never hear about otherwise?!
Thanks to Cathy for sharing with me in the first place!
It’s a reminder to me that “God’s in his heaven; all’s right with the world.”
from “Pippa Passes”
The year’s at the spring
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hill-side’s dew-pearled
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in his Heaven -
All’s right with the world!
Robert Browning (1812-1889)
Is it possible that in these difficult times we could trust more deeply that God will feed and clothe us, as he does the birds and the lilies? Whether we are literally in need of food, shelter, clothing, water, health, employment or any of a myriad of other needs, the most basic need is for the ideas that will lead us in the right direction and out of limitation.
Ideas are always limitless! (This goes along with the short movie I posted earlier.)
Not too long ago while pondering how I should schedule my day, though my first inclination the night before had been to get on down the road and back home, I felt it was all right to meander a bit. In doing so, I had a number of interesting conversations with strangers, some welcome time with a friend, and a bit of fashion enjoyment, including some time with perfumes.
After I’d been back on the highway for a while, an electronic sign informed me of an accident 26 miles down the road. One lane was closed. (I learned later that it had only cleared about an hour before I got there.) If I had hurried my way home, I would have been stuck for hours while they cleared the road. I was able to get past it without any lost time.
Sometimes we do not know what we or others are protected from, but this time it was apparent. And it could have been far worse, but thankfully wasn’t. On this busy stretch of road, many more could have been involved in this accident but were not.
That’s just a small example of how ideas will clear our day for us. Expect ideas today and always that will help you!
I saw this movie today, and it was surprisingly funny. I hadn’t particularly wanted to go, but I was glad I did.
The entire audience laughed a lot. There were only a few really dumb things, and one character I could have written out, but the main character is so delightful and watchable and innocently kind that she is a pleasure to watch. And she holds many lessons.
There are a couple of questionable things for very young children and some bad language, but not a lot. My girls would love it, at 10 and 12. I think they can handle it.
Shelley (Anna Farris is charming in the part and makes the movie) is living the life of her dreams at the Playboy Mansion. She feels the mansion has given her the home she never had before. (The movie begins with a short montage of her early childhood spent in an orphanage, until she finally found acceptance and a sense of family. This is not dwelt upon, but you might need to be aware of it.)
Hugh Hefner plays himself in several cameos in the movie. It’s good to see his health has improved. I hadn’t realized he was in it.
When Hugh goes off for a time, immediately after Shelley’s 27th birthday party, she is presented with a letter from him giving her 2 hours to leave the premises as she is now ‘too old.’ 27 is now evidently 59 in Bunny years.
How she finds herself the housemother of what likely began as Zeta (Zeta Tau Alpha) but morphed into a close cousin in name, is part of the poignancy and fun. The girls in the house need to pledge 30 girls in order not to lose their charter. How she turns them into a viable sorority is a delight.
There is a typical sorority bitch that has shown up in several movies. (And there is a Bunny bitch too.) In a way this movie is like a female version of Sydney White, but we liked it better. (The theater rated it 3 out of 5.)
It’s easy to imagine Elle Woods living this life. (Colin Hanks plays her love interest.)
She’s definitely a likeable bimbo, and you can’t help but root for her. Many scenes touched my heart.
This book is a delicious romp, with some serious issues handled through the story and the relationships, but in ways that you care about the characters and don’t look at them with a jaundiced eye. Most of us have known someone who might act this way, given half a chance. And most of us have felt the brunt of some of this, even if in lesser degree.
Again, I was struck by the cover (which was what made me choose it) — both the illustration and the clever title with its play on words to the English idiom, “Wolves in sheep’s clothing.” (It gave me the opportunity to define the idiom to my younger girls.) And because it said chic clothing, I hoped it would be as fashionably interesting as it turns out to be.
Oh my, this story is a lark! Filled with twenty-something abbreviations, it is Mean Girls grown up. I read nearly every word so as not to miss any of the humor or the abbreviations. The authors skewer anybody and everything. They even skewer themselves:
Lell: “My number-one priority is discretion…I don’t like to have people who are loose-lipped working close to me [she has security cameras trained on everyone]…I don’t gossip about my coworkers, and I expect — no, no demand the same from them. Besides the fact that we have no friends in common, you don’t seem the type to waste time on meretricious persiflage.”
Julia (thinking): Meretricious persiflage? What the hell was that? “Of course not. I am like a vault…” And God, what had she told Douglas so far? She’d need to put a filter on that.
Lell: I didn’t think so. Because gossip is really just tacky and harmful…In fact, there are two girls that I’m sort of friends with, and they have a book deal to write about twenty-something Park Avenue debutantes. I think it’s really shameful and tacky.” p 64
It has everything — a thoroughly likable main character, Julia; love; sex; morality; sexless marriage (and adultery and wished-for adultery); a pedophile married to one of the women; extreme wealth and those who have wealth, but can never keep up; four friends who are variably supportive of each other; gay men (friends with the heroine Julia) who later enter into marriage in Canada; foreign phrases used to separate the knowledgeable from the less knowledgeable…
All this is delivered with a camera’s eye, dished up with humor, while we laughingly wince at the character flaws, which are our own, but exaggerated enough to make them palatable.
Julia has naturally what the others need to develop — style with a capital “S.” She works at Pelham’s jewelry store, a mere peon in the system, until she is noticed by Lell, the store heiress, when she is asked to deliver a necklace on Lell’s wedding day. Julia is handcuffed to the briefcase containing the necklace and escorted by security. While there, she knows intuitively how the bridal attendants can successfully wear the normally staid and old-ladyish Pelham jewelry (which is delivered in a second delivery), by making some deceptively simple changes.
Suddenly Julia becomes the pawn in Lell’s and Polly’s makeovers. Both see her potential and feel it will reflect well on them if they are her mentor. Lell really has nothing to prove with the snobbery to bring it home, but Polly is playing catch up. Julia finds herself thrust into the world of trust funds (and lack of), loveless marriages, the milieu of high fashion, and more. She loses herself for a bit, but never completely loses her good sense, her kindness, her sense of seeing the good in everyone, even when they treat her crassly.
I rate it a 5. I chuckled out loud more than once, and I look forward to reading their first book on the off chance that it is similar to this one.
BTW, this would make a great movie!
Have you read it? If you like the relationship between the women in Sex and the City or the cattiness of The Devil Wears Prada, this is a book you will thoroughly enjoy.
Karin
If you are looking for interesting jewelry or bridal attendant gifts, look to Inky Productions. You can find more information at her blog. Her MySpace.
When it comes to facial treatment products, I find that I like to at least sample products that friends have led me to. If a friend recommends a product as accomplishing what it is hyped to do, I rely more on their judgment than an ad campaign.
How about you? Have you tried (or bought) something recommended to you by a RL or online friend? Did you find yourself more satisfied with it? (Or trying something you might never have found or tried on your own? There is such a plethora of products now, who can sort through them all?)
There’s something about it that makes me happy. Maybe there is even less buyer’s remorse or second guessing.
Since I was about at the end of a couple of products, I bought something completely new to me on the strength or recommendations. They are significantly less money than the products I have finished. I’ll let you know what I think of them after trying them for a couple of weeks or so.
One thing that is good about getting out of town is that it broadens our perspectives. It is all too easy to think our little (or big) milieu is the final word or full extent of mores or fashion or culture or…
Recently while out of town, I was struck by how many men I saw with pony tails. Nearly all of them had them held back, then clamped across the middle to the ends with other bands. Most of the men were older, but not all.
Personally, I like this look but never see it at home. It must bring back aspects of my youth.
I’m curious where the men were from. The area we traveled has world-wide tourists, so the men were likely from all over. I wonder if the look is prevalent in their area, or if they march to a different drummer.
I saw a number of nose studs (we see a lot here) and a few tattoos. One elderly woman was heavily tattooed, though there was a bit of open skin.
I saw this on AOL the other day and decided to give it a try.
They said to get perspiration out of white clothes, put white vinegar on the stain, then wash.
I thought, hey, why not try. Both of my older girls have had these stains under the arms.
I figured, it likely wouldn’t work, especially since the stain was old, and when I realized I had washed it without remembering to try it, while it was still wet, I put the vinegar on the stain, and it didn’t appear to do anything, so I put a little soap with it, and maybe it erased it a little. (I had already tried bleach on another occasion.) When it dried, I could hardly see it! So before she wore it again, in the next light load, I put white vinegar on the stain, threw it in the wash, and it came out completely.
What’s a woman to do when the newest high tech face creams are running several hundred dollars each? And how is one to choose one over another, if one is staving off the knife?
Honestly, are they all worth that kind of money? Chanel, La Prairie, Shiseido, Clea de Peau all have their moving-up-to-$500-each creams. Some need to be layered just to have enough moisture — what’s the use of that. And how does one compare an expensive cream by Chanel with a more expensive cream by Chanel sold only in a few select stores? or a Clea de Peau cream with another Clea de Peau cream? Do you think the SAs really know?
Are they old enough to have really given them a run for their money?
Well, the only fair way would be to use one on one side of one’s face and the other on the other. Then you could tell folks why you appear only half-rested.
Surely some of this is hype and some is reality and some is making you feel the more expensive, the better it works. But is it true?
Perhaps there are equally good things from other much less expensive drug store lines, all of which say they use their own labs to come up with new things. And maybe if the truth were known, the differences are in the packaging as the labs may be supplying to several lines owned by a parent company.
Believe it or not, it was Avon that changed some of the creams many years ago when they first brought in alpha-hydroxy. And theirs is still one of the best. They have one of the best facilities for research and development of any company.
So, what’s your favorite face cream? Do you think it works? Would you spend that kind of money on a face cream? or do you reserve that for shoes or handbags or perfumes or airline tickets? How many mega creams do you own and use? (or owned and used up)?
What’s your favorite recommendations?
How much of beauty is from within and how much from taking care of ourselves? (I have a couple of friends who are proud that they do nothing, and it shows. How much of that is laziness or frugality? Or not being able to see without one’s glasses?)
If I didn’t use something on my skin, it would hurt in a couple of days from dryness. That’s not a bad thing, when it has caused me to continue to take care of my face. But I sure don’t want to spend money for the proverbial Emperor’s new clothes. They ought to sell mini-jars so you could test them at home.
One of the things I like to do, though unconsciously, is people watch. Likely it is because I grew up in the fashion world, so I enjoy seeing what people wear and how they wear it. I am not critical, I am just looking with a critical eye to analyze, because I’ve been a buyer. At a young age I was buying not only for youth but for older men and women. I know too well the fleeting nature of fashion and of trying to stay ahead of the game to anticipate trends when shopping the markets to buy for the next season.
Stores in our area had a hard time sustaining themselves when they used northern buyers for our market. It just didn’t fly. Think hot, humid, and tropical and you would be right. What you’d wear in NYC or Chicago, you would likely not wear here. Also, the majority of us grew up somewhere else and came here for the space industry, so our fashion tends to be eclectic, but geared toward extreme heat.
The other day I was on a college campus with my 11 yo who had a function there. There were parents, as well as kids from 5th grade to 12th. Three college girls parted a swath amidst us. One was striking; one was average; one was OK. It was clear the striking one was leading the others and they deferred to her. They were an island to themselves. She was head of the pack, and she knew it. Confident. The rest of us of whatever age were invisible to them. I wondered what they would look like as parents. It was hard to imagine. But the day is coming whether they parent or not.
The next day I stood in a long line at the post office. Two young girls were in the front, one might have been an exchange student. One wore a dress; one wore shorts and a T. Both were modest and circumspect in their clothing. In front of me were two women older than I am. They both were invisible, in their demeanor and in their clothing. Behind me were women, invisible, looking hot and tired, none young. More or less patient in the line. I tried to imagine them the age of the young girls and failed. I tried to imagine what the young girls would look like at the age of these women or of me, or the ones behind me, how they might dress, and it was near impossible. I wondered what the hopes and dreams of the older women had been, and if they had achieved them. I wondered if the young girls would achieve theirs.
Next came me, fading into invisibility, maybe, wearing my uniform for the heat: shorts and a T. And don’t forget I wore a lot of bracelets before they came back in style. Or I set the style, LOL. I am fashionable, but not a fashion plate. And I’m recycling things I loved from years gone by.
It reminded me of Dylan Thomas:
Do not go gentle into that good night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieve it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Or Robert Frost’s
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
I don’t think of myself as old, though to some I might be, and there are moments when I definitely look older than I would like to. I don’t intend to go quietly. I hope never to be invisible. I’ve got a long ways to go before I end up there. Maybe I’ll be like the 107 yo woman blogger and still be blogging. That would be something! But I hope it is an interesting ride. And she is clearly not invisible.
Someone I know once said to me that she couldn’t wait until she was old enough not to care what she looked like. How old is that, pray tell? I’ll never forget the striking much older woman on the arm of a younger man in Paris, her head scarf twisted into a flower by her ear. High heels and tasteful makeup. I have something to aim for, but skip the heels!
How about you? do you think of yourself as invisible, or do you know better?
Karin
Here it is in full:
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Poem lyrics of Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost.
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there’s some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
I enjoyed watching the Oscars last night. Many of the presenters were cleverly funny. Robert Downey, Jr’s, aside about himself was wonderfully drole.
So many of the dresses were beautiful. I didn’t care for the big bow on Nicole Kidman, but the color was radiant.
Helen Mirren looked divine. Such a beautiful dress.
Naomi Watts was spectacular in that shade of yellow.
Reese Witherspoon’s dress looked black on camera, but in the paper’s picture this morning it looked the deep purple that it was.
No big fashion faux pax that I saw like the swan from a few year’s back or the ballerina…but Meryl Streep could take better advantage of herself, and Celine Dion, with her divine voice, needs a fashion consultant.
I’d like to see the jewelry in more detail. Up close and personal would be fun. It would mean that I was there…
Will Smith’s son is too adorable for words.
Some of the men were stunning, as always.
Jack N looked like he was becoming Marlon Brando in his later years. He was good natured, though, which is a little scary coming from Jack.
Peter O’Toole, poor man, I wish he’d won. Meantime, I hope he’s got a couple more powerhouse performances still to give us.
The skit with Jack Black’s was fun. I didn’t know he could belt a song out.
I thought it was funny when Ellen passed her supposed script to Scorsese…and later when Clint Eastwood told her he was expecting a copy of her script too.
There are always some surprises in the awards. It has to be disappointing not to win, but it should not eclipse the fact of being there.
Hmmmmm, come to think of it, I’d like to know what perfumes they were wearing.
