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A fine wine, a conversation

Deep crimson color. Full-bodied taste. What could be better than a wonderful Côtes du Rhône in hand, and conversation shared with a friend in France?

Louis JourdanThat friend is a journalist who writes with a refined eye and wicked wit on all things stylish and oh-so French. And what subject comes up? Paris Fashion Week? It’s a reasonable guess. Mais non. The proper temperature for a Chateauneuf-du-Pape? Not exactly. Something even better. Eh oui, we speak of French men. And as she is married to one (her Reason-for-Living-in-France), she understands my need to set the record straight. I mean no disrespect to the many remarkable gentlemen in my own country, but I feel compelled to express why French men are utterly irresistible.

And so, I made a delightful excursion to Tish’s place, A Femme d’un Certain Age, where I offer my thoughts on this subject. And here, I permit myself a slightly racier version. No objections, I imagine?

Are French men irresistible?

Are French men really irresistible?

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It’s been a week for writing. For reading and writing. Tapping and typing and can’t turn it off even when my fingers aren’t on a keyboard.  (Useful? Useless? Avoidance Therapy?)

Writing writing writingI even took an hour to actually enjoy the web, buzzing with all manner of pleasurable and intriguing vibes. I read about how Stone Fox was outed. I grinned when Sarah at Momalom played a happy song, and I wandered my housebound head space, returning to Lindsey’s ruminations on (among other things) what feeds the imagination.

I spent time at T’s place, as she touched on disappointment, thinking about institutions that have disappointed me, rather than people. And I thought about writing, which never disappoints. The act of writing, the energy of writing, the full force of writing as it reinterprets recollection, and teases the senses. Writing is friend, family, lover, counselor. Writing is my co-conspirator in mischief-making, my didactic dealer in discovery.

Then I thought about Natalie Goldberg, and Writing Down the Bones, a book given to me by a painter friend 15 years ago. Goldberg, and her lessons on specificity. On the necessity of writing practice.

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Women of style and accomplishment

This year, the Academy Awards sparkled with women of style and accomplishment, along with prizes of historic significance. I loved the color palettes, and I loved Mo’Nique’s nod to Hattie McDaniel in her blue dress and white flower in the hair.

Mo'Nique Academy Awards 2010: dons blue dress and white flower for stylish significance.

And speaking of nods, pop over to A Femme d’un Certain Age across the Atlantic. Enjoy the words and images as my fashion and style guru (merci, Tish) points out the elegance of some very special women:

Les Très Belles Femmes d’un Certain Age (Very Beautiful Women of a Certain Age).

And personally – I thought Bullock, Bigelow, Winslet, and Mirren looked spectacular!

Shimmering silver for Academy Award fashion


© D A Wolf

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Avoidance

Avoidance (Procrastination?)

Let’s be clear. Avoidance is not the same as procrastination. Avoidance is a fine art unto itself. A coping strategy. No 12-step program required.

  • I am avoiding the email account I use for “dating.” Thus, I don’t have to deal with the issue of Date Night Guy. Dont like what you see? AVOID it!!
  • I am avoiding calling the company where I had the project lead, because the ball is in their court.
  • I am avoiding harassing my doctor’s office over test results, because I get cranky, and it isn’t helpful.
  • I am avoiding looking at myself in the mirror, since it affirms that it’s been a rough few months.
  • I am avoiding another load of laundry. Just because.

See? Coping strategies. Not head in the sand exactly. Just a handful of the many opportunities for annoyance, disappointment, and bewilderment that I don’t need to deal with. Just now. Okay. The “just now” indicates cousinship to procrastination. So here’s a clarification – I’m waiting until the last possible moment to make four sandwiches, wash apples, dig out bags of chips and bottles of water, and bag them up, and listen to moaning as I knock on assorted doors.

That is procrastination.

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Teens in. Teens out. Teens in. Teens out. Frazzled nerves, fridge empty, more driving, less sleeping. STOP! Now! Somebody get me out of here!

Parenting Tips for Stress Busting

Parenting tips? Sure. I’ve got a boatload. And thus far, without pharmaceuticals.

  • One petite padded room, with shelves for my designer footwear Mr Coffee is my friend, so I won't go 'round the bend!
  • One power strip for my laptop and heating pad
  • One Mr. Coffee One-Cup, oh go ahead – make it a 4-cup, for my glorious inches of Italian Roast
  • One sampler of Espresso, and Ethiopian Harrar
  • One book of poetry
  • One week to myself – no phones allowed!

Now really. Am I serious? Wouldn’t I have my always-at-the-ready guidebook filled with stress-busting parenting tips? My cheat sheet penned on my palm? Words of wisdom after all these years?

I could use any of the above after the past few days and nights. But I long ago tossed the prescribed shoulds and milestones in favor of intuition and taking cues from my kids. I go with the flow (within reason), and hang by the skin of my teeth most of the time. Or by my fingernails, off the precipice. (Both images are quite amusing when you actually picture them. And both neatly illustrate my daily life!)

Real world parenting chaos

Real world parenting? That means juggling your own “stuff” (which covers a great deal) along with a houseful of kids (some of whom are yours). And for a single parent, you’d never survive if you didn’t live by the “Don’t sweat the small stuff” rule. Still, with the arrival of my firstborn from college Friday night, the chaos level has ratcheted up a notch, as expected. And it isn’t all him; my younger son is a social creature as well. It’s been Grand Central Home-Sweet-Home, complete with arguments over taking my car keys and going out until the wee hours, Latvian friends of Latvian guest, one kid on his Spring Break while the other is studying for midterms, and a confluence of conflicting commitments, schedules, and school work.

Repeat after me: Raw. Nerves. All. Round.

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I’m ransacking the cerebral files, the dream bank, the piggy bank.

Crack open the piggy bank! Will it pay for a few laughs? Hell, I’d empty the sperm bank if I had one around and thought it would help me crack a smile. I’d shake shake shake as much as I could from any of those vessels, to collect a clinking coin or drizzly drop of humor. More specifically, good humor. And today, I can’t seem to do it. I can’t find “the funny.” And that worries me.

Bad days, good humor

Even on my worst days, somewhere, somehow, I can usually find the funny. You know – humor in all things, positive attitude, laughter makes the world go ’round, laughter is the best medicine, etcetera, etcetera. But this morning, I can’t find the funny.

And the fact is – I really do believe that laughter is excellent medicine. I know it lowers stress. I know it reduces pain. I know it’s good for the heart, and superb for the emotional aura we give off – and give to ourselves.

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Academy award winning actress Meryl Streep: 25 nominations and only 2 wins? The Oscars are here!

It’s that time again – Oscars – and we’ve all got our picks, our faves, our popcorn at the ready, our DVRs set if we can’t be present for the overly long telecast, and those impromptu speeches and stumbles.

But we’re glued to our images, mesmerized by the glitz and glamor. Or at very least, wondering if our preferred stars and films will get the nod. And naturally, there’s the Red Carpet fashion parade beforehand, for those of us who willingly admit we adore seeing what the stars are wearing.

What’s not to love about a little hoopla and bountiful bling?

And the ceremony itself – we’re into that, too. Come on. Admit it. We watch our film icons as they wait for the envelope please, and enjoy the satisfaction of a win we approve of, and the annoyance when an admired actor is passed over.

This morning, I was cruising my usual online media sources – Yahoo, Huffington Post, MSN, and assorted variations in French. It’s Saturday! I don’t want hard news! I was in the mood for celebrity stylings with my small cup of most excellent java. And I came across this article on the snubbing of Meryl Streep when it comes to Academy Awards, and I have to say, my jaw dropped.

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Last weekend I ventured out. On Date Night. It was… interesting. An enjoyable dinner. And a strange dénouement. Then I waxed winsomely on the subject of body language and touch, and interpreting non-verbal communication. Not quite one week later, here’s my take: I suck at dating.

How to determine your dating prowess

Care to know if you, too, suck at dating? It’s not rocket science. Here are a few clues:

  • Friday nights and Saturday nights you breathe a sigh of relief, put furry slippers on your tootsies, and settle in with your laptop, a DVD, a good Bordeaux, a favorite book, or silence. And it feels wonderful.
  • A nice bordeaux to encourage conversation, or enjoy alone.

  • Match.com is still filling your “dating” mailbox addressed to that quirky pseudonym you came up with three years ago, and you hope you actually canceled your subscription.
  • The box of Trojans you bought for your teens is long gone. (Party balloons?) The one you bought for yourself is still in “the goodie drawer,” and the date has expired. Incidentally, that particular drawer is now stuffed with bills. And I don’t mean greenbacks.
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Do you feel bound to the tides, to the moon, to rhythms that stretch beyond your body but are part of it? Do you recognize when you’re hungry, when you’re tired, when your emotions are worn beyond expressing? Or for that matter, when you’re feeling terrific?

Women, health, and well-being

Women's health: Listening to your body makes everything better! “Bound to the tides and moon” is a romantic notion, isn’t it? Still, there’s no question that women are subject to distinct rhythms. Sure, our monthly cycles are powerful stuff, but it’s something more – emotional, physical, and social needs that seem to ripple through our organs and our moods, as unrelenting as any hormonal surge.

When we listen, and act on these signals concerning health and well-being, we feel upbeat and energized. But too often, we are finely tuned into the emotional needs of those around us – in the workplace, out in public, and certainly at home. We give those messages precedence, and when it comes to the emotional and physical requirements of our own bodies, we ignore them in favor of worrying about what others think, what others feel, and quite simply – nurturing others without nurturing ourselves.

And so we exist: eating too little, too much, or just poorly; living on caffeine, sugar, pills, or alcohol to “get through;” sleeping restlessly, engaging mechanically, or feeling pulled in so many directions that we are rarely content with our capacity to manage any of them.

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Do you know what you’re worth? How do you ascertain your value – as a worker, a creative, a woman, a man, a spouse, a parent? As a member of society?

Dollar sign: Is this how you measure self worth? Is this the only way? I’ll state this up front. This isn’t the usual morning musing. But hang in. It may be useful.

What is your job worth?

In layman’s terms, in most organizations “job analysis” breaks down the elements of work to be performed. Job analysis has been around for a very long time, and the Human Resources profession relies upon documented job definitions and associated knowledge, skills, abilities and experience necessary for success in each position.

Generally speaking (in the private sector), jobs are then slotted into salary bands or wage scales, according to industry, market, competitive conditions, specialized expertise required, union contracts if applicable, organizational performance, and organizational culture. Your compensation? It’s based on these pay scales for your job, along with your performance. This isn’t how it works all over the world – the US is especially big on pay for performance. In addition to a paycheck, an employee’s compensation generally includes some (insurance) benefits, paid time off, and possibly other incentives.

Perform a job, get paid. In theory, perform better, get paid more.
The result? A sense of worth.

Lose your job? Self-esteem plummets.

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