TECH cocktail Chicago

Getting together has never been as much fun nor as successful as when groups of technology experts, start-ups and folks who just want to have fun, get together for TECH cocktail, a social mixer founded in 2005 by Chicagoans Frank Gruber and Eric Olson.

TECH cocktail returns to Chicago for the 6th time on Thursday, November 15, and a good time will be in order for all who RSVP. With as many as 500 people in attendance, John Barleycorn-Wrigleyville is the location for the event that provides free drinks, free demonstrations, and free laughs for all.

TECH cocktail went on the road recently and showed up in Washington, DC and Boston -- both successful and both filled with techies, start-ups and free drinks. How can TECH cocktail continue to be such a success? It's the result of the two founders: both Frank and Eric have warm personalities that contribute to the continued success of the events. Each is a good looking and bright guy who takes time to talk to everyone, shake hands with all, and smile at everyone and in photos with those who attend. And why not? Everyone at the event is upbeat and filled with excitement, happy to be there and waiting to meet others. I've been to a few TECH cocktails and know the crowds, the cameras, and the camaraderie. I'll be back for the next one as well.

Always from 6:30 to 9:30 on a Thursday evening at an upbeat yet relaxed venue, TECH cocktail continues to embrace Chicagoland and all it has to offer. And Chicagoland technology experts, start-ups and folks who just want to have fun continue to embrace TECH cocktail.

Happy Halloween

Your mother probably isn't there with you so let me be your surrogate. Limit your candy intake today. If you drink, don't drive. Have a meal before you go out to celebrate. Tomorrow will be here sooner then you expect. Candy tastes good but is not good for you. Eat an apple -- a carmeled apple. Happy Halloween.

Ghosts, Goblins and Candy

I love chocolate, I just don't eat chocolate, it gives me a migraine. Chocolate appears everywhere, yet it seems to be most plentiful in individually wrapped servings late in October when tradition allows somewhat normal individuals to dress as something they are not, so they may traipse through darkness going from house to house begging for something they could have purchased themselves for $3.99.

Because of my allergy to chocolate, coupled with my fear of strangers, as well as the darkness itself, Halloween has never been one of my favorite holidays. Opening the door to strangers is something my mother specifically said not to do, yet on October 31 it becomes a free for all. Previously locked doors are flung open as short greedy and gnarly beasts yell indistinguishable statements at the home owner standing in the doorway.

Living in the outer burbs of Chicagoland has its advantages at Halloween. We never have "trick or treaters" at our door, yet I purchase bags of chocolate candy bars, just in case this year is different and a bus stops at our drive way and its entire population is released to gather goodies. This year is no different. A visit to Costco provided a bag of 200 mixed mini bars that lie in ready near the front door. The pumpkins will be carved tonight, and their candles will be lit on Wednesday afternoon, welcoming goblins to our door. Who am I kidding? We have an electric pumpkin now that the kids are grown, it is much easier to "clean" -- just plug it in and it's all ready to scare who ever shows up.Note: All left over candy is eaten by my husband, for those who wonder. Most of you already knew that.

Hair Wars!

We all have them every so often, usually not when we've got a special meeting to chair, or we are the featured speaker at a special event. Those days are for crazy out of control hair that can only be managed with handfuls of goopy products added to various heady locations. Good hair days come when the hair on one's head hold a convention and decide to work together for "the cause," agreeing the scalp has been good to them, every single one of them, hasn't been a flake, or worse yet, too picky. Today is a good hair day, hopefully the first of many in a series of good hair days.

Not every day is like this one, however. Some days are out-of-control best-wear-it-in-a-ponytail days, when a baseball cap adds to the finished polished look. I have learned, through years of hair products, that less is more when it comes to my hair. Washing it, conditioning it, and then adding leave-in conditioner, helps keep it supple. Adding straightener keeps the out of control ends under control, allowing them to lay flay and not appear to be attempting to flee. All my life I have had hair as straight as uncooked spaghetti, until recently when it started to kink, then curl with no coaxing. I permed it, colored it, teased it, and was able to control it, somewhat. My hair went through phases. In college my thick brown hair embraced the highlights that were only offered to blondes. I loved being a blonde, and I enjoyed the blonde lifestyle. Those of you who are not blonde, don't understand or even know of the blonde lifestyle, a secret organization set aside only for blondes.

Then without any warning, brunettes became popular, and my blonde hair was once again brown. I rationalized it was because I was pregnant with my first child, who would later be a blonde, but I was really under the erroneous impression that coloring, or in this case lightening, one's hair could cause birth defects. My daughter was born to a brunette mother and the baby was perfect; I thought my brownness was responsible.

Over the years my brown straight hair has been permed far too many times. There was the time it was supposed to be loose curls, and eventually it was, but not until it grew out. The tight curls always seemed too tight, and the chestnut brown seemed to be getting darker, leaning more toward shades of black. While dark brown hair is good on some, it wasn't good on me and it seemed to make my fair skin appear ghostly white. For quite a while I thought I looked good, until the day I realized there was a blonde inside me trying to get out.

The air was cool today with relative humidity and very little wind. My hair was thicker then usual, and it lay perfectly where I placed each strand, staying in place all day. It was a good hair day. Tomorrow will probably be different and a baseball cap will solve the problem, somewhat.

Blogger Boy

Sharing one's hobbies with others might excite the hobbyist, but not necessarily excite the one receiving the hobby information. Blogger boy (BB), my middle child, is a blogger who blogs constantly about all things related to technology. He knows everything there is to know about computers, technology, html, web 2.0, widgets and TECH cocktails. He works for a large media company you may have heard of.

BB rarely sits still, but when he does he is blogging, posting, researching, and then writing so he can post to his blog, which is somewhat popular. From BB I've learned about the latest tech innovations, start ups, methods, and that web 2.0 meant there was a web 1.0 at some time, some where. I didn't know that.

Recently I heard a lot about widgets, which I previously thought were small furry animals who walked on two legs and appeared to be quite happy carefree spirits. They tended to appear in movies a lot and around Halloween, which made me wonder why BB was involved with the little creatures, especially in the early spring, and why a large media company would even care about the little guys.

Widgets are not furry and they are not alive, in the blood-thumping-through-the-veins kind of way. While I am still not able to define a widget, as I was going to for this post, I do know widgets are an after market add-on to a site, like this one. I have a widget -- it is the cute little button that has RSS next to it that allows the reader to get emails about this site. Apparently a widget is a helpful device that optimizes a website. So while some family members might not be listening all the time to what BB shares, I am. That's all I know for now, and I learned that from BB and his blog, which is somewhat interesting and certainly somewhat frank.

Invitations Are Out

The holiday season, always a special time for me, officially begins October 22 of each year, when the youngest member of my family gets a year older, hopefully a year wiser, and becomes the proud owner of another birthday letter written just for him from me. I don't know what possessed me to start writing birthday letters to JMV -- but I think it had something to do with his being the last duck out of the nest, and writing a birthday letter to him each year made the nest seem less empty. I've written birthday letters to my older two children, on occasion, but they never seem to have appreciated them as much as JMV seems to.

A birthday letter is not like a holiday letter that so many people send out, me not being one of them. I was going to send a holiday letter out one year and spent days writing it, revising it, and then adding decorative touches to it to be sure it was memorable. Where I made my mistake was emailing it to my three kids and my husband for "their ideas," prior to mailing it out. Their consensus was that I never write a holiday letter again and that I should under no circumstances send out this one, or any other one for that matter. Thus ended the holiday letter cycle -- now I send out a holiday card with our pictures on it. The good thing about the holiday photo card is since I know how to use photoshop, I can add a different head or face onto the card --- which has come in quite handy on more then one occasion, but that's a whole other topic for another day.

Birthday letters are summaries of the person's accomplishments during the past twelve months; the high points are discussed and the low points are totally ignored, hoping no one will ever remember any of them, or speak of them again. My eternal love for the recipient is always expressed, explaining how mother-love is all accepting, adding the "I will always be there for you" phrase, how the days are brighter because of this person's existence, ya-da, ya-da, ya-da. Writing the birthday letter to JMV each year has been a love fest for me, a tradition that will continue so he doesn't think I forgot, was too busy, or love him less then last year. It also helps me plump up the nest a little bit. I also enjoy reading letters from years past. While I write the birthday letter and revise it, I wait till later in the evening of the day before his birthday to send it to him. He, on the other hand, is probably hoping I skip a year or two, but I don't.

When JMV was younger and had a birthday party with real kids at it, not just his parents and siblings, we always had a pumpkin carving contest, complete with small pumpkins and somewhat safe carving tools ('twas the season), and the ever popular musical chairs contest. I am hoping JMV has been able to get through his birth day without taking a knife to a pumpkin, or racing someone to the last seat in his law school lecture hall that day.

Immediately after the birthday letter I create the invitation to the next holiday: Thanksgiving dinner, sent to my three children, my mother, my daughter's mother-in-law, and anyone else who we think should be invited that year. And every year since I started sending invitations inviting my kids to dinner on Thanksgiving, rather then just assuming they would show up, they joke about waiting for the mail and breathing a sigh of relief because for one more year, they made the cut.

The invitations for the Thanksgiving celebration were mailed last week and the guests have been responding. We are up to ten now, a good number, plus two babies. Let the holiday season officially begin!

Mums for Maturity

Spring is the time of rebirth, happiness, love, freshness and mating. Babies are born, bulbs pop out of the ground, and all shades of green and pink burst onto the landscape. Fall, on the other hand, is different and reminds one of death, destruction, coldness, and probably mating. Leaves continually fall off the trees, covering the green grass with constant reminders that it, too, will soon be gone. I am not a "fall" person, probably because fall colors include orange and gold, and I don't like orange and gold, I am a pink girl.

The air was cool today when I retrieved the two newspapers from the cold brick step, another reminder we are in for it -- coldness, dampness, trees empty of all life, eventual snow, shoveling, and a furnace that runs all the time. I dread it because I am a pink girl and pink is not an outdoor color of fall or winter. To prepare for what is ahead, all summer furniture has been put away, resting until next April. The teak furniture landed on the back porch, a somewhat cheerful reminder that spring will one day return, though not for a time. The screen porch holds the remaining chairs and tables of summer, perfect for placing winter decorations on to be viewed from the large family room windows.

To keep the season going as long as possible, mums were planted in shades of plum, purple, yellow and yes, even gold, though I don't like gold except in 24k jewelry. Gazing out toward the long circular drive, I see the mums, reminding me seasons change, but beauty continues.

Life is like that -- we continue to change each day as we evolve from the beauty of youth into the mature beauty that only comes with age. Changing seasons are but a reminder that the freshness of youth, like spring, can be replaced with wisdom, understanding and refined beauty, like the beauty of mums in the fall.

What Color Is Your Rainbow?

One's closet could be a clue to one's soul, or at least their favorite colors and I am a pink girl, loving anything pink except Pepto Bismal. Pink is the color of youth, love, spring, innocence and bubble gum. Pink draws me in and invites me to linger. Pink geraniums, pink lipstick, pink place mats, pink nail polish -- it was all designed for girls like me. Shades of pink are just as loved as pink itself: fuchsia, cranberry, purple, lilac -- all of them are refreshing and all evoke a bubbling effervescence seldom found in brown or ochre. All things pink look good on blondes, and I am a blonde, so all things pink hang in my closet, arranged by shades of pink from dark to light. Of course other colors also live in my closet for the non-pink days when the weather is offensive, the head aches, or the day seems to be less pink and more in shades of black. I own seven black blazers (including suits), and black looks fabulous with pink.

While you might not be a pink girl, or even a pink guy, you can still be my friend, as long as you aren't wearing orange -- it competes with pink and I don't really like orange. I'm a pink girl.

My Best Friend Has Cancer

They say you can't feel another person's pain, and while that may be true, you can sure see pain in their face and body as they maneuver through life.

Eight months ago Val lost her daughter, Laura, a divorce attorney, to a raging cancer after only a six month battle with the beast. The beast won, and Val lost half of her children. Together with her husband, Val grieved and they visited their grandchildren, continued their lives (as best one can after the loss of a child), traveled to North Carolina and Russia, and tried to move on.

As luck would have it, Val had a side ache that just wouldn't go away, and after CT scans, biopsies, X-rays and loads of blood work, she was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer, neuroendocrine tumors or NETs, and had extensive surgery at the University of Iowa on September 28. She lost her jejunum, duodenum, 3 feet of her intestines, a gallbladder, two ovaries, and 7 tumors housed in her liver. She also lost 15 pounds.

Val has continued her recovery at home, within eyeshot of her pool, her expansive gardens, patios, and in the comfort of her own bed. A person often feels better once they are home, in their own element, close to the things they love, and with those who love them. But she continues to lose weight.

There is some irony here. Val and I were partners on the Sonoma Diet in April 0f 2006, and each day we would painfully whisper our weight to the other, as we would pledge to follow the diet, forsaking anything white, especially if it was sugar. We have eaten the same (or at least similar) foods, bought and strut around in our Tummy Tuck Jeans together, and eaten so many black Greek olives we should both be one shade darker.

Now Val is having trouble maintaining her weight after so many days of not eating anything, or very little; food isn't the lure it once was and nothing appeals to her. Everything still appeals to me, so the irony continues, and we laugh at it. She continues to lose weight.

I've spent many an afternoon laying on the bed next to Val, talking to her, listening to her, and being there so she can tell me her fears, and together we can laugh at what only the two of us know. Today I took her for an outing -- her first lunch out since surgery, four weeks ago. And with all the wonderful restaurants in our area, she selected a bar-type venue for the big event. Why? I had been at a meeting there and taken Val a sandwich from the restaurant. While she ate four bites of it, she remembered how good it was and it was the only thing she wanted today, so together we went to a bar for lunch. Neither Val nor I are "bar people," if you know what I mean. Earlier in my life, going to the bar meant I was in ballet class -- but not today. Today we went to the bar, and Val ate 1/4 of the sandwich and took 3/4 of it home, in case she craves it later.

When one hasn't eaten for a while, one needs to jump back into the food chain with both feet and start eating, so being the good friend I am, I stopped at the local candy store and bought six handmade to-die-for carmels. I know they're good because in a prior life I ate them once in a while. Two for $1.25 -- they melt in your mouth and suddenly you experience carmel-lust. Val now has six carmels so she can eat one, or half of one, anytime she wants. While I am on the Sonoma Diet to lose a few pounds, my diet partner is on the other end of the chain and I am feeding her everything I want to eat.

Leather Doctor Prognosis

The leather doctor just left and here are the damages:
The prognosis for the two leather couches is good, as long as they are taken care of immediately. For $85 the leather doctor will re-attach three buttons, after making one new button.

For another $250 the leather doctor will repair a section of the sleeper leather couch that had a section of creased areas that will be glued down, sanded, condtioned and then the color will be added to make it look as good as new. The second couch will have the same treatment after the first of the year, for another $700.

The blue wingback chair will have the right arm repaired for $200. This is the chair that a three year old child of mine bit a hole in twenty-one years ago when he was "teething." This will cost $200 and the chair will look as good as new.

The leather doctor was surprised at the quality of the leather furniture, and the excellent condition it was in for being so old. It all looks really good, but then my husband and children knew they had to treat the furniture well if they wanted to live. They are all alive.

I'm Combating the Visible Signs of Aging

Perfect skin has been a pursuit of mine ever since I saw Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly, and most recently, anyone in a cosmetic commercial. Flawless smooth skin is something to lust for. It is why Neiman Marcus sends me their emails with the Beauty Bonus Buys attached each month. Of course I open them, just to see what they think I need. If "it" comes with a cute tote in a color I could use, they've got me, and soon it appears at my door and then on my face.

I was intrigued by a product I had seen repeatedly in Bliss Magazine, Time For You, and online. It was "free," and in 30 days I would have flawless skin. I succumbed and soon it was put to the test.

According to iQ Derma, beauty with intelligence, I had "the most advance anti-aging products available in the marketplace." The iQ 24 Hour Wrinkle Control System included the daytime therapy of Life Without Wrinkles Intensive Wrinkle DeCrease Day Cream AND the Nighttime Therapy SkinTensive Facelift Treatment that would give "instant" results. Wow. I would be working 24-7 on de-creasing my face. This should work, I thought, and if it didn't I could return it and try something new. There is always something new, as the skin care industry is continuously finding remarkable break throughs, according to any TV commercial.

Forty days have past and while I still have some creases, I do have to admit my skin looks a little better, even a little smoother. Some of the deeper creases (they don't like to call them "wrinkles," appear to be less deep then they were before, if that is really possible.) But is it worth the $95.70 I paid to have it delivered to my door, saving $70 off the retail price? I'm not so sure it is. While it is "only $1.60 per day for the most cutting-edge anti-aging skin care" around, I think picking parents with flawless skin would have been a better solution in the long run. Too late for that, but my mother is coming to stay for several months so I can always ask her about it, can't I.

Mama's Got A New Pair of Shoes

Every once in a while a girl needs to go shoe shopping for the latest and greatest heels of the season. According to InStyle Magazine, flats can be worn with certain outfits, sandal season is over, and last year's stilettos weren't looking as good as they did then.

After a search for something a little on edge, cute but making a statement, a pair of rounded toe platform leopard shoes with black patent trim now live in my shoe closet. Leopard print is "in" and is the "hottest thing" right now that goes with black, brown, beige, cream and did I mention black? Since ninety-nine percent of what I wear on the bottom half is black (slacks, skirts, tights) the new show could be worn with just about everything I own that doesn't have a pattern to it. InStyle will be pleased that I followed their advice and went with an animal print.

I love my new shoes and have already worn them on two occasions -- both times I heard "your shoes are darling," or "I love your shoes." Who doesn't want to hear that? You be the judge. While I love my shoes, and plan to wear them a lot in the future, they might not be for you, but then you didn't buy them, I did.

Leather Doctor

Two burgundy Chesterfield leather sofas hold court forming an "L" in the family room of my home. Purchased fifteen years ago, at least, the sofas have managed to age well, the leather was good quality to begin with, and occasional leather therapy has brought them back to life. The leather doctor is coming today, however.

The sofas have leather covered buttons on the seat and back, and on one of the sofas three buttons have broken lose and tried to run away. The leather doctor will re-attach the buttons and make the sofas look as good as new, for two sofas seventeen years old. The leather doctor is coming after 4:30 today, and if he is like the Comcast guy or the AT & T guy, this could take a while. For $85 the leather doctor will reattach the buttons and determine if any leather treatments should be applied to the sofas. I'm sure he will suggest something between $200 and $300, what ever that is -- too much for sofas that are twenty years old. Stay tuned.

UPDATE: The prognosis for the two leather couches is good, as long as they are taken care of immediately. For $85 the leather doctor will re-attach three buttons, after making one new button. For another $250 the leather doctor will repair a section of the sleeper leather couch that had a section of creased areas that will be glued down, sanded, condtioned and then the color will be added to make it look as good as new. The second couch will have the same treatment after the first of the year, for another $700. The blue wingback chair will have the right arm repaired for $200. This is the chair that a three year old child of mine bit a hole in twenty-one years ago when he was "teething." This will cost $200 and the chair will look as good as new. The leather doctor was surprised at the quality of the leather furniture, and the excellent condition it was in for being so old. It all looks really good, but then my husband and children knew they had to treat the furniture well if they wanted to live. They are all alive.

Sonoma Diet To The Rescue - Again

Eighteen months ago, in April of 2006, I went on yet another diet in pursuit of a slimmer more svelte body. If I were to number each attempt at weight loss, this would be Diet 142, or 3, or, you get the picture. But this time I followed sage advice from my husband's homeland, Greece, and I used olive oil, Kalamato olives, tomatoes, whole wheat pita, fish and fresh vegetables. I bought the book, The Sonoma Diet, read it and followed it, and in a few short weeks had lost 2o pounds.

The Sonoma Diet is actually a lifestyle that allows one to eat, drink wine, and relax while losing unwanted fat from the prime fat location on any woman: the stomach. Based on the eating habits of those living in the Mediterranean area, the Sonoma diet asks one to divide their dinner plate into fourths, filling two fourths (or one half) 0f the plate with salad and veggies, one fourth of the plate with a whole wheat carb, and one fourth with a protein. The goal is to eat more veggies and fewer carbs while removing anything "white" from the diet: no white flour, no sugar of any sort, and during the first 10 days, no fruit.

Amazing things happen around the 12th day -- the scale indicates a loss of anywhere from five to ten pounds, and the weight stays off. I have been amazed at the difference in my eating habits since April of 2006; I have been happy with Greek Salads and know where to find the best ones in Chicagoland. I have Greek olives in my refrigerator at all times, and I am not hungry, except for air popped popcorn. My weight has been maintained, for the most part, but I am back on Sonoma big time again to lose five pounds that found their way back on with the hot summer ice cream splurge(s).

Today the scale was again my friend, as I have lost two pounds in about four days by following the Sonoma diet plan. My staple is a wonderful mixture of brown rice and wild rice that I make and then eat as my carb for breakfast and dinner. I fill in with other carbs, proteins and veggies. Here is the recipe:

1 1/2 cup of brown rice, 1 1/2 cup of wild rice, 1 large can (that holds 6 cups) of chicken broth, a large diced onion, and some parsley, dill, basil, salt and black pepper. I cook it for about 30 minutes and then let it rest to reabsorb the liquid.

This tastes great --- hot or cold, it is good to eat. Add some cooked chicken or fish and it is a complete meal, except you need to eat 1/2 a plate of veggies as well. So give it a try -- I have, and if it works for me, it will work for you as long as you don't cheat and eat anything white....unless it is popcorn from Trader Joe's.

Golf, Flower Arranging or Bridge

It has been suggested by one of my adult children that I try playing golf, flower arranging, or bridge, rather then blogging. While I admire those who are able to chase a small white ball around a course, I tried it a few times and had trouble hitting the ball. While I really got into the whole thing, with cute little golf outfits, and the golden tan, and having lunch afterwards at the club, the time spent chasing the ball interfered with the whole lunch thing. I found I could have lunch with the golfers after they completed the course and I had been at the mall, or on the Square, or getting a pedicure. Here's the problem: golf in northern Illinois is seasonal, like allergies, and I already have allergies.

Flower arranging is something I love to do, and I arrange flowers as often as I remember to buy them. Fresh flowers in the foyer, welcoming guests to my home, should be a requirement in all households. The problem with flower arrangements is having to change the water daily so mold doesn't grow, which could cause allergies, which I already have.

Playing bridge has never been a goal of mine, though a dear friend, Suzanne, is a professional bridge player (yes, there are those), and she makes a lot of money at it. I've tried to play cards of all kinds, Bunco (is that a card game?) poker, and even more difficult games that I can't recall the name of. They all ended the same -- I lost money and I spent a lot of time sitting around with people in an enclosed area, touching alot of germ infested cards, which could cause a cold, and I already have allergies.

So I will continue to add fodder to this blog until I have nothing more to say, or until my children make me an offer to stop that I can't refuse.

Horse Sense

The two female quarter horses who had been our pets for some time gave birth in March -- and then there were four. We now have two mama's and two colts grazing in the pasture. Watching the babies mature has been a real pleasure -- they each have their own personality and it seems to mimic that of their mother.

Curly (not his real name, but called that because he had a tightly curled mane at birth), was born two weeks early to Lucy (not her real name either) so he is still smaller then Sampson (not his real name) who was born two weeks late to Belle (and you guessed it, that's not her real name). Anyone who has ever given birth knows that a baby born late will be bigger then a baby born on time. That is the case with Sampson, aptly named for his size and strength.

Curly's mother is the alpha mare, while Sampson's mother is more relaxed and laid back. Curly and Sampson have taken on the personality of thier moms, so while Curly is smaller then Sammy, Curly is in charge, and knows it.

Watching Curly and Lucy boss around Sammy and his mom, Belle, is both humorous and troubling to me. Lucy will sense Belle is behind her and raise her left hind leg to ready it for kicking Belle. Curly aggressively bites Sammy to get him away from whatever Curly feels he should be closer to at the time. The demonstrated behavior is like that seen on a schoolyard during recess. The bully in the backyard needs counseling.......

Jersey Boys

For my birthday in June my three children gave me two tickets to The Jersey Boys, appearing in Chicago at the LaSalle Theater. The opening was October 5, but I was in Clearwater Beach Florida catching a little R & R then. My two seats are for late December, two whole months away. I just searched for seats that are sooner, so my husband and I can sneak into the city, catch the show, then sing the tunes all the way home, but had no luck. There are seats available, just with limited vision -- whatever that means. I already have limited vision, which comes with getting older, so I don't need to pay extra for it at the theater.

The best I can do is buy a Frankie Valli CD and play it while I wait patiently for the December date to roll around. "My eyes adored you, though I never laid a hand on you" keeps resonating in my head ever since I heard it yesterday, and while "Big Girls Don't Cry," I may if I can't get seats sooner or if I meet someone named "Sherry."

Ragweed -- I Hate You

Allergies to ragweed and pollen haunt many of us, forcing us to look swollen, puffy, and somewhat poofy under the eyes that water and drip during the day. The ragweed season runs from early August until the frost -- never have I been so anxious for a heavy frost which will kill the little culprit that invades me. Last night a light frost hit, killing the last flowers of the season, damaging the ferns that will now die off, but allowing the mold and ragweed to flourish a bit longer.

Allegra helps, as does Allegra D or Zyrtec, I've tried them all. Now Verymist is the nasal spray of choice, claiming it will stop "runny, watery eyes" as well as constant "dripping" from the nose. Three days into it and I am somewhat better, though the Benedryl I just swallowed will add more relief and allow me to stop sneezing in front of a classroom full of college students.

A purse full of pink kleenex helps, but I have graduated to paper towels -- the heavy duty reuseable ones -- to catch the scum that drips from my nostrils. This is not pretty.

Changing Leaves, Changing Skin

The first frost arrived last night, which meant the furnace turned on for the first time this fall season. There was a dryness in the crisp morning air, forcing me to grab my fluffy blue "look like you gained 30 pounds" bathrobe and slippers. The roof over the garage had remnants of frost on it. The fuschia geraniums, which had been colorful summer decorations, looked limp this morning, attempting one last day in the sun before I rip them out.

Extra care was needed this morning on my skin. LaPrarie moisturizer and eye cream to the rescue: for added plumpness Cream de la Mer was gently tapped into creases and crevices. What would I do without these wonders? You don't want to know.

Lip lines 101

I never smoked and rarely used a straw, but over the years I have been in combat with lip lines which keep cropping up at the most inopportune times. I am now the not-so-proud owner of a new lip line that heads north and south, not east and west. What to do?

Lipfusion is a greasy gloss that is supposed to make the lips appear larger and lovelier than they really are. I smeared it all over my lips, and even went above the lip line, filling in the new found northerly line. Not so good. I looked greasy, so I carefully, ever so carefully, powdered on Jane Irdale's mineral powder in Natural color. Better -- not so greasy but not exactly smooth, either. There has to be a better solution, short of $750 worth of painful injections or fillers. Stay tuned.

Not My Daughter's Jeans

Every year since hitting forty, female parts have shifted from their original location to places they don't need to be nor should be. The younger ones, those under forty, have been able to shove their little bodies into slim fitting body hugging bootcut jeans. Not me. Finding jeans that fit is in the same negative category as puking and trying on swimsuits. Jeans can be too tight, too low-cut, too uncomfortable. Until now.

Not My Daughter's Jeans are the perfect solution to a tough problem. Also called Tummy Tuck Jeans, they flatten the tummy, lift the butt, and allow you to wear one size smaller. Amazing! Check them out at their site http://www.tummytuckjeans.com/not_my_daughters_jeans.html and see them at your local Nordstom's Department Store.

Worth the price of $80-100 each, these jeans will lengthen your torso, making you appear taller and thinner. Get in the car and get to Nordstrom's, or buy your pair on-line. I own seven pair of these natural wonders; be careful when you order them, as the black and indigo jeans are cut smaller then the blue jeans, so order accordingly.

When I put these jeans on, two of my adult children said I looked "so thin," and my "thighs looked thinner." So I bought several more pair.

Wrinkle wrinkle little star....

Aging has its advantages, some say, but I'm waiting to see what they are. While better than the alternative, aging isn't all it's cracked up to be. Cracks appear in so many places they begin to converge and connect. Wrinkles come and go, mostly come and stay, and the fight continues to accelerate. Holding it all together has become the main thrust of this life.

All my products will be explained and reviewed by moi, since I know what works and what doesn't. Your comments will add to the fun, so let's get going.