A Christmas Present ~ The Best Gifts Can't be Gift-Wrapped

Think back to last Christmas.  Now, try going back to the year before.  Do you remember what gifts you got  or what gifts you gave to whom?  I don't. Well, I can remember only one; a very special one. Unless I rack my brain, I can't recall the gifts. Since my brain usually runs in overdrive, I have no desire to tax my brain by trying to recall the gifts of Christmas past. What I do recall is much more valuable than a gift which came from a department store - it's the gift of a Christmas memory.

I grew up in the 1960's.  My parents didn't have extra money to spend on developing film, so I don't have any photographs of my childhood Christmases.  They didn't have a smart phone or a digital camera to instantly download a memory to a home computer; none existed. Even though my memories of my childhood Christmases are still vivid in my mind, I wanted to find a way to recapture them, so that I could enjoy them and share them with my own family.

It began around 7 years ago.  I purchased a box of ornaments from QVC.  Christopher Radko had reproduced ornaments from his own childhood - Shiny Brites.  He fondly remembered his own holiday memories and so he reproduced them for all to share.  When I received them in the mail, they instantly brought my own memories vibrantly back to life; incredibly fond memories of my own Christmases of long ago.

I began a quest to recapture some of my childhood by way of searching for vintage Christmas collectibles.  I easily found original Shiny Brite ornaments at various antique stores and flea markets, costing no more than a dollar a piece. I even stumbled upon vintage candle stick holders and salt and pepper shakers at a flea market and voila - a new hobby was formed.

It's incredibly easy to find vintage collectibles online, but the point and click method of shopping doesn't fulfill my sense of adventure.  It's all in the hunt. I only went out once or twice a year to hunt for memories, so it's taken me years to build up a small collection.

I was feeling homesick for my own family one Christmas (my sisters all spend the holidays with their own families since my parents retired to North Carolina in 1991).  I wanted to share an old memory with them, so we could all conjure up the same fond memories of our childhood holidays spent together.  I carefully selected and wrapped  vintage ornaments and gave one to each of my three sisters as an early holiday gift.  No words were needed; they felt the same way I did when I first laid eyes on them.

It took me years to find and replace the ornaments I willingly shared with my sisters.  I thought I may never find those exact ones again - the ones I remember dangling from my grandparents' tree branches along with real tinsel and big, multicolored lights. Then I stumbled on the mother load.  My husband and I had an hour to kill while our cat was at the vet for a procedure.  We wandered around an antique store and found an entire room dedicated to Christmas Past.  My husband spied the room first. He turned to me and said, "Uh, oh; I don't think you should go in there."  I could tell by the smirk on his face that he knew a big reaction was about to happen.

I walked into the room and gasped.  It was like stepping back in time - back into a warm and fuzzy place filled with laughter and excitement.  I turned to my husband and grabbed him with both hands by his jacket and whispered  "Oh my God!"

I don't know how I appeared to him, but he says I looked like a wide-eyed child filled joy.  I was feeling like a child as I immersed myself, if only for a little while, in my own childhood.  I fell in love with a wreath made entirely of vintage Shiny Brite ornaments.  I was like a child in FAO Schwartz.  There were so many wonderful things; how could I possibly choose? We left without buying one single item.  I also left with the intention of returning with my sister.

My husband, one of my sisters and I went back.  I still couldn't choose.  The only thing I kept returning to was the wreath, but it was much more than I wanted to spend.  My husband said, "It's the only thing that you see that is lighting up your eyes. I'm buying it for you for Christmas."  I argued that it was far too expensive, but he paid no attention to my voice of reason.  He argued back that it would be something I would enjoy every year and it would one day become a family heirloom.  He didn't have to twist my arm too hard.

It's now December, 2011.  My vintage wreath hangs beautifully in our dining room.  It has become both a new and old Christmas treasure.  While it reminds me of my own childhood, it has given me an even fonder memory - one created with the man I love.  He's the man that lets me be a child whenever I need to be and understands my need to recreate a cherished memory. While helping me to do just that, he gave me an even greater gift than a somewhat pricey wreath.  He gave me a new memory, one that I'll treasure forever.

I still visit some flea markets because I still enjoy the hunt.  I also visit my new favorite antique store, The HiHo Market located in Gardiner, New York in the beautiful Hudson Valley.  I allow myself a few vintage collectibles each year. If you long to immerse yourself in your own childhood memories why not step back in time and visit Heidi and Humphrey at HiHo.  A visit will take the humbug out of most any Scrooge's heart.

Visit The HiHo Home Market and Antique Store online at http://www.hihohome.com/home.html  or in person. Tell them I sent you to take a much deserved break from reality.  You won't need the ghost of Christmas past to take you there. Just bring a childhood sense of wonder and someone you love.

This Christmas, take time to create memories with your loved ones while taking time to walk down your own Christmas memory lane.  Have a blessed holiday from my home to yours. ~ HSM

Black Friday ~ The Best Things in Life Aren't on the Sale Rack

Who doesn't love a good sale?  When you have a limited holiday budget and lots of people to buy gifts for, Black Friday is the perfect opportunity to go out and.......make a memory.

It was the season of Playstation 2 -  the must have, hard to find gift of the holiday season.  My kids weren't materialistic and they didn't always ask for the must have gift of the season - except for the year of  Playstation 2.  I made multiple attempts to get my hands on one prior to Black Friday, but to no avail.  The outlook was grim. The supply wouldn't come close to the demand and no shipments were expected in time for Santa's elves to wrap it and get it into the sleigh in time. I had missed the boat on pre-ordering and I didn't have any good connections.

We made plans to travel to North Carolina to visit my parents for the Thanksgiving holiday.  My husband and I planned to go Black Friday shopping in North Carolina, in hopes of finding the in-demand gaming system. Our kids were at the age when they no longer wanted to believe in Santa, but they weren't ready to risk admitting it....for fear of not getting any other presents under the tree besides new underwear and socks.

My sister and brother-in-law (Paul) were the first to relocate to Charlotte - the cost of living was much more affordable than living in NY.  When my Dad retired from IBM, my parents followed them there.  Paul had become my shopping buddy. We used to go out and shop all day to purchase gifts for my sister for Christmases and birthdays.  We always had a great time together. We'd shop and go out to lunch together. He had the best sense of humor.  I enjoyed his humor and he enjoyed my sarcasm.  He was the brother I never had.  I admit that, when he and my sister made the decision to move, I was deeply saddened.  I knew we'd have very few opportunities to spend a full day together shopping.

My husband came down with the flu on the trip to North Carolina. He was still feeling ill on Thanksgiving evening.  We both knew that he wouldn't be up for a 4:30am shopping trip.  Paul stepped up to plate and happily volunteered to go with me. It would be like old times, except neither one of us had ever participated in the early morning, Black Friday frenzy.

Paul had both a love and a need for coffee.  He made multiple daily trips to the same coffee shop near his home. He was a regular customer who ordered one of two of his 'usual' orders.  He picked me up at 4:30am. He poked fun at the fact that I wasn't ready on time.......typical me.  We went directly to the coffee shop.  We were in a hurry, so we went the drive-thru route (so we could get to the stores ASAP).  Paul ordered by dollar amount and not items.  The person at the window recognized his voice and his unique way of ordering. The entire staff of this shop knew Paul.  They knew his voice and they knew just how he liked his coffee. I thought that was completely hilarious and just so typical of Paul.  He had a way of making everything fun.

We got to our first store, but failed to score the must have item, so we hurried to the car to head to the next store.  We didn't find it there either so.............onto to the next store. Paul marveled at the controlled chaos that is Black Friday.  People shopping with 2-way radios in hand and.........a mission.  He loved the excitement in the air.  Neither one of us could process why we had never partaken in the experience before. Along with fantastic bargains, there was fun and excitement in the air.

We made it to our third location and found what we were looking for.  I did my victory dance - I got the goods and was going to make it home in time to have breakfast with my family.

"Isn't there anything else on your list?" Paul sounded disappointed.
"No, this is the only thing I needed to get.  We're good to go home now."
"Oh - are you sure?  This was really fun."
"No - I don't need anything else.  Do you want to shop for anything?"
"No, I'm good too."
"Well this was lots of fun; just like old times!  We'll have to do it again one day."

We headed back home with the most valuable gift I've ever gotten - a lasting memory made with my wonderful brother, Paul.  Our first Black Friday shopping excursion also happened to be our last.

We lost Paul suddenly in 2007 to a heart attack. His absence is felt by many.  I miss him more than ever this time of year.  So, even though our kids are now grown and their Christmas wish list never consists of any must have toy, we still make a point to shop on Black Friday.  Sure, my husband and I say we're going out to save some money and take advantage of the once-a-year amazing sales, but we both know the real reason I want to go out and be a part of the chaos.

This Black Friday the stores are open even earlier.  My husband and I will go out; not with lists in hand, but  with coffee in hand.  We'll experience the excitement that is Black Friday. I'll be sure to remember to bring some tissues. The salesgirl at Macy's may think I'm shedding a tear because I paid 50% less for our daughter's jacket. Hey, who wouldn't cry over a 50% savings? My husband and I will both know that it's because I'm remembering and missing my brother.   Many complain that Black Friday is too chaotic and not worth the hassle just to save a few dollars.  For me, it's more about the memories and paying tribute to a man that is sorely missed.

If you see me at the mall and I look like I have tears in my eyes, I do. They will be tears of joy, because I am still grateful that I had that one last opportunity to shop with my brother.  Thanksgiving is about gratitude. I hope to spend Black Friday being thankful for his memory, while making new memories with my wonderful husband.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you and yours............... ~ HSM

Who Should Host the Oscars? ~ Clooney and the Award Goes to......... Me

The Oscars need a new host? I'll do it ~ I'm sarcasmic, smartasstiic and available. I sing and dance like Lucille Ball. I'm willing to co-host the Oscars with Clooney, Sandler, Chris Rock or Will Smith - tall, dark and.............hilarious! You thought I was going to say handsome, didn't you? 


Why I 'll even host the Oscars for free! It's an offer the Academy can't and should not refuse! Okay, I may not do it completely for free. I'd like to keep the wardrobe, however I promise to return any and all adornments provided by Harry Winston. 


 I also want to attend the after party of my choice - the one that Octavia Spencer is going to. Yes, she's getting nominating and she better win, or the powers that be may just  enjoy a slice of her 'special' chocolate pie.  


So why not Hollywood? I promise to surprise and entertain your diverse audience.  Oh, and please let Mr. Clooney know that I'm still happily married and that he should accept it and settle down already. Time's a wastin' George! 


The Oscar's need a new host.................and the award goes to......Me?  If you don't ask, you don't get!

Trick or Treat ~ Halloween: It's Not About the Candy

Everyone has a an alter ego. Once a year we have an opportunity to be someone else.   Halloween is a strangely wonderful holiday that gives kids of all ages permission to let their alter ego come out and............beg for candy.

You'd think that Christmas would be the big one - the holiday that got  the most hype in our house.  Our kids need only be concerned with being really nice between Black Friday (the official  start of Season's Greetings) and Christmas Morning; about a month.  They had to deal with the paranoia that came with the repeated reminders that 'Santa was watching so..... they had better not pout or cry. Watch out! He's coming and he knows EVERYTHING.'  Pretty scary and far too stressful.

Our kids didn't live for the season that was run by a big guy, in a red suit, who also had his own CIA.  His spies were watching their every move and taking notes. Nope - they didn't live for the Ho-Ho-Ho holiday.  They lived for the Trick or Treat.

Our kids spent the entire year planning it. They were very serious about the costume they chose to represent their alter ego. Who would they want to be: a princess, a super hero or.......a  bad guy? Whenever they saw a character they related to in a movie or TV show, they'd say "I want to be THAT for Halloween!"  They changed their minds frequently throughout the year, so we couldn't really plan ahead.  It was usually best not to get a costume until the last minute - in case one of them changed their mind.  Okay, maybe it wasn't  best to wait (the pickins were slim), but I work better under pressure.

As they got older, they decided it was more fun to be a villain. Villains always had more fun.  Our kids didn't just dress up.  They got into character and made it a day of acting like someone else; someone who was nothing like them. Jim Carrey's version of The Riddler was the inspiration one year, and an easy look to pull off. The movie was a current hit and the costume could be found everywhere.

My husband and I remember one Halloween in particular.  My oldest son wanted to be Darth Vader. There was no convincing him of being anyone else. His mind, along with his heart, was made up. Unfortunately, there were no Vader costumes to be had.  My son was a trail blazer - the Vader costume was only available in too big adult sizes, at ridiculously big prices.  He already had a toy light saber.  He could have easily been Luke Skywalker - his white karate uniform was all he needed to complete the transformation into the good guy.  I might as well have suggested that he dress as Princess Leia - he wanted no part of playing a good guy after he'd set his mind on being the super villain of all bad guys.

I never wanted to let my kids down and Halloween was the biggest event of the year for them.  Creating a Vader costume was challenging and next to impossible.  Never say 'never' - a mother will do what she has to do, to help her child enjoy the simple pleasure of playing the part of a bad guy hero. The search for a suitable helmet was futile - we'd been to 3 shopping malls and countless department stores until........... we found a Speed Racer costume.   It came with a black helmet with a black face shield. Jackpot!  I'm sure I made a scene in the store - grabbing it and holding on to it like it was the last Tickle Me Elmo on the shelf.  I looked possessed. 'It's mine - don't even think about trying to take it!'

We steamed off the decals and it became a suitable Vader helmet. The rest of the costume was recycled; a Batman cape, a black turtle neck, black gloves and black snow boots made do for most of the costume.  He wore his black snow pants from the prior winter.  Even though they were a little too small, they worked.  I tacked on some shiny buttons and stickers on the bib and voila - he was transformed into the once good guy, who turned to the Dark Side and, eventually found his way back to good.  He didn't care that it wasn't exact - he felt like Vader and fell into character.

Halloween was never about how much candy they got or if it was safe enough to eat.  Sure, they'd score lots of treats when they went out for a night of fun, being someone else.  My husband and I would examine all of the candy and dispose of anything that wasn't prepackaged.  We'd also sift through and pull out the stuff we knew they wouldn't eat (conveniently the candy we loved).  They'd ration out their candy and make it last, but they never ate it all. We'd end up throwing it away (we grownups ate it).  They weren't really concerned with eating all of it anyway - they were too busy trying to decide who they were going to be next year.

Our kids are now all grown and in college.  Even though they've grown into adulthood, they're still young at heart. They still like to dress up on Halloween. My husband and I can't help but smile and reminisce about our own little ones' when we hand out treats on Halloween. "Remember the year we couldn't find a Vader costume and we had to make one?" I'd say to my husband.

"Yeah - that was a great Halloween." He'd say with a smile.

Have a safe and happy Halloween ~ HSM

Fair Weather Fan ~ Blue Skies are a State of Mind

We all do it.  Whenever there's a lag in small talk or an awkward silence, we become meteorologists.  Conversation turns to the weather - something we either bitch about, or revel in. If the weather is less than ideal, we complain about it.  Complaining about the weather is just that - complaining. Complaining on a gray day only makes me feel drab. HUMBUG!

I can't speak for anyone else, but for me, blue skies are a state of mind.  There aren't enough clouds on the planet that can take away my joy if I'm happy.  The same holds true if I'm unhappy.  When I was at the lowest point of my life, when I felt all alone in the world, not even the bluest sky could ease my sorrows.........until I found gratitude.

Once I learned that, without gratitude, happiness was just a temporary feeling brought on by superficial things or superficial people (those I was trying to impress or please, that didn't really matter to me).  I had to experience a painful loss in order to find my gratitude.  Not until I had the fortunate opportunity to look at life through the eyes of sorrow and loss, was I able to truly find an appreciation for the life I have and the people who are a part of it.  I no longer got irritated by the little things.  The things that once bothered me, like an overflowing garbage can at home or someone cutting me off in traffic, now seem insignificant.

The key to my happiness was gratitude - being grateful for what I already had is what unlocked the door that held me captive in my past hurts.  Gratitude changed my forecast.  Today, the weatherman says the skies will be gray and the air cold and damp, but for me the skies are blue and my life is filled with the warmth that radiates from my joyful heart.

"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see a shadow." ~ Helen Keller

Skinny It Up ~ Low Fat Chicken Marsala

I'm always looking for delicious, easy and healthy recipes to prepare for my family.  I have found some of the best recipes in magazines.  I like to find ways to make the recipes healthier, so I substitute ingredients and make them 'skinnier'.

My sons were always picky eaters when they were little. I used to sneak healthier ingredients into their meals, in attempts to get them to eat better. Shhhhhh! Don't tell them. What they didn't know not only didn't hurt them, but was actually much better for them. Hey, a mom has to do what a mom has to do.

 My sons weren't adventurous with food when dining out.  They'd usually order chicken tenders or chicken marsala (hold the mushrooms please - and don't sprinkle any greenish garnishes on top).  Now that they are in college, they are much more relaxed when it comes to trying new foods, but they still love chicken marsala.  I love having my family all at the dinner table at the same time.  With our 3 children all attending college and working, family meals have become more rare and precious to me.  One way to ensure that they'll make an effort to clear their hectic schedules and be home for dinner is to announce that one of their favorites is being served.

Skinny It Up - Chicken Marsala

1 lb of Boneless, skinless chicken breasts, thinly sliced
1/3 cup of whole wheat flour
1  teaspoon of salt
1/4 teaspoon of pepper
2 tablespoons of canola oil or light extra virgin olive oil
2 cloves of garlic, minced or *garlic powder, to taste
1/3 cup of diced yellow onion
1  8 oz packages of sliced mushrooms
1/2 cup of marsala wine
1/4 cup of lowfat milk
2 tablespoons of whole wheat flour (to be used to thicken the sauce at the end)

Mix 1/3 cup of whole wheat flour, salt and pepper on a plate; dredge cutlets in flour mixture and set aside. *if using garlic powder, sprinkle on top of dredged cutlets.
In a large frying pan, heat oil over medium heat.  Saute' onion and garlic in oil about 2 minutes.  Add mushrooms and cook for 5 minutes.  Push mushroom mixture to the side of the pan; add chicken to frying pan; sear chicken 2 minutes on each side, then add marsala wine. Reduce heat to low and simmer, allowing the wine to reduce to by half (turn chicken at least one time).
In a bowl, combine milk and 2 tablespoons of whole wheat flour (mix it with a fork) and add it to frying pan once the wine has reduced by half (this will thicken the sauce). Remove from heat and serve.

I serve my chicken marsala with whole grain pasta or brown rice and a steamed vegetable or a tossed salad.
The original recipe called for unbleached flour and half & half.  My substitutions add whole grains and is lower in fat.

I feel responsible for my family's health whenever I prepare a meal.  I feel better knowing that I'm preparing a meal I know they'll love and is a little healthier for all of us. The cat's out of the bag.  Now that they're old enough to handle the truth, and not run away from a plate filled with healthier food,  I've confessed to my sneaky substitutions.  They still enjoyed it.  The only complaint that was voiced was that there wasn't enough.  I consider the skinnier meal a success - not just because my family enjoyed the food, but because they made it home for a healthier meal prepared with love and good intentions.

Puppy Love - A Tribute to The Family Glue

It's said that you never really get over your first love.  As a child, you fall in love with your first dog and, for the rest of your life, you'll compare all other dogs to him.  Sure, you'll love all of your future family pets, but none will ever replace the spot in your heart that your first 4-legged love will forever occupy.  First puppy love is blind, pure and unconditional.......he loves you, in spite of your faults.

We stumbled into Tino's life when he was just 6 weeks old, outside of our church one Sunday morning, nearly 15 years ago.  There were 3 pups left out of the litter that had not yet found homes.  We picked Tino because of his expressive face and his playfulness.  He was also the runt, so we hoped he wouldn't get too big.  Although his mother was a yellow lab, we had no idea who the puppy daddy was.  His mama had a secret Summer romance on The Cape that her family didn't know about, when she was just a pup herself.   Even though Tino came home a tiny pup, he grew into a large, 90 pound dog with an abundance of strength and energy.....and far too much to handle for a busy family of 5.

Our 3 children were only 6 and 8 years of age when Tino joined our family.  They were too physically small to handle walking a dog who quickly grew to nearly twice their size.  He was a very active puppy and remained puppyish until he was old . He was mischievous, hyper active and had really bad breath.  He did a lot of naughty things to get attention.

We chose his name by lottery - we all picked one name and threw them in a hat and the youngest drew the name out that no one called him by.  Even though we agreed upon his name, he was renamed by his family - over and over, and over.  Benty, Werno, Mortimer, Regallon, Boy, Little, Guy, Mistah and Soup were just a few names that he carried (and responded to) over the years.  The last name he was given came from my sons who called him 'Mr. Seep' (Seep for short) because he was sleeping a lot more in his old age.  My husband often called him 'Idiot,' rationalizing that a dog would respond to any name with a tail wag if it was delivered without a harsh tone.  I called him 'Fresh' because he talked back and always had to get the last word in.

Tino knew how to make his needs known.  If he needed to be walked, he would pick up a shoe and run around with it in his mouth.  That was his way of saying "put this thing on and walk me NOW."  If carrying a shoe around didn't get our attention, he'd drag a cushion off the couch and pull it around until his needs were met, making him quite the opposite of an 'idiot.'  If both of these actions failed, he'd find a garbage to knock over, letting us know that he was not happy with our lack of attention.  He'd shred the tissues and strew the remains all over the room - putting an exclamation point at the end of his statement.  I read somewhere that dogs chewed dirty tissues because they had the scent of their loved ones all over them.  I thought it was just another act of obnoxious, attention seeking behavior.

Tino barked whenever anyone hugged.  I'm not sure if he was excited or jealous, but either way, he had an opinion to express whenever affection was being shown that wasn't directed towards him.  He was a shameless beggar - meatloaf and steak were his favorites.  He'd start drooling once he caught a whiff of his favorite dinner being cooked, in anticipation of scraps that ended up in  his bowl once the table was cleared.  He only stole one steak over his entire lifetime.  My husband left it unattended on the table while he turned off the grill, making it not really a crime, but more of a crime of opportunity.  He was training us.  Nope - he  was not an 'idiot'.

His worst offense was the cake incident.  It was my son Eric's birthday and we were going to have birthday cake after dinner.  Eric and I frosted his homemade cake and put candy decorations all over it.  Tino loved his children even more than they loved him.  Eric's scent was all over his birthday cake.  We left the  room for only a little while, leaving the cake on the counter top (thinking it was out of reach).  Eric returned to the kitchen to get a snack and found Tino standing on his hind legs, licking the icing and candies off of the cake.  He'd got through half of it, but the cake itself was untouched.  Eric burst into tears and I scolded the dog.  Tino tucked his tail and sulked into a corner.  I reassured my son and we got a new can of icing out and patched the cake.  We all told Tino that we were going to send him to the zoo and that there would be no cake at the zoo.  We'd spend the rest of his life threatening to send him to the zoo, where there wouldn't be any cake.  We all willingly ate a birthday cake that we knew contained dog slobber all over it, because we loved the birthday boy, who was already upset about his cake.

Our family has endured more than it's fair share of difficult times.  Tino was always there - to offer comfort and to a bring a smile to a child's face when no one else could.  Sometimes loving the dog was the only thing our kids could agree upon.  There were times when the kids were hurting so bad, that curling up with the dog was the only thing they wanted to do. I bargained with the dog when he was beginning to show signs of aging.  I told him he needed to live until they all went away to college, so they wouldn't be around to grieve the loss as much.

The dog held up to my hopes and went beyond them.  There was a short period of time when the kids were all off to college that I found myself to be completely alone.  Tino was there and he never left my side.  He was the family glue - the one life that touched all of ours without asking for anything in return other than meeting his basic needs and some table scraps for good behavior.  He loved us at our best, but he loved us more at our worst.  No human (other than maybe a parent) can offer the kind of unconditional love, loyalty and forgiveness that a dog will willingly give for a lifetime.  I know having a dog is work and it's a big responsibility, but the love they give and the lessons they teach us about love, loyalty, acceptance and loss far outweigh any burden they could pose.

As his life was winding down and his expressive eyes grew cloudy, I spent more time wanting to be the one to walk him and hold his weakened legs steady if needed.  I wanted to thank this lovely creature for being both a joy and comfort to my children and my family when I could not.

The one thing more painful than making the decision to allow him to die peacefully when he no longer wanted to eat, was witnessing our now grown children saying their goodbyes.  My husband and I took him to the arranged appointment at our Vet's office.  Our semi-retired Vet marveled at how old he was and reassured us that it was the right time.  He offered us the option of not being there when it happened, but my husband immediately said  "No, I don't want him to be afraid.  We'll stay with him."

We both sat on the floor and stroked his back as he took his last breath, while tears poured down our cheeks.  I heard my husband whisper "idiot." I grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard, then I rested my head on his shoulder.  Some say that's why they don't want to get their kids a dog - because it'll hurt too much when it dies or because it's too much work and responsibility.  I will be forever glad that we did get the world's best dog with the world's worst dog breath.  It's true that it hurt to see my kids cry when they said "goodbye".  What purpose does life hold if we avoid loving because we fear the pain of loss?  Loving something or someone, and being loved in return, is worth the hurt that goes along with the loss.

I will miss his rancid breath and the opportunity to see his tail wagging when one of my family called him by one of his many names.  I will especially miss the smile he brought to my now grown children's faces just by walking in the room.  Thank you my dear 'Fresh' - you will forever live in the hearts of a family who you let into your life.  I hope wherever you now are, there is plenty of steak and cake....all for you.

"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." ~ Dr Seuss

My Snarky Sarcasmic Rant - Dumbing Down the Food Pyramid

I speak fluent sarcasm.  My husband says I am sarcasmic. Granted, sarcasmic is not a real word (yet), but we've both adopted it into our vocabulary.  I prefer the term snarky - it stings a little less and doesn't seem quite as mean-spirited as sarcastic.

Call it simplified or call it dumbed down - either way, say goodbye to the pyramid of confusion and hello to "My Plate" - the new and improved USDA nutritional guidelines.  With 68 % of Americans already obese and a staggering increase in childhood obesity - our government finally recognized that we needed it dumbed down.  Maybe we didn't like the pyramid so we ignored it.  Maybe we didn't understand the concept of the portion sizes. No matter, the food pyramid was a good concept that failed miserably.

In our defense, the government was not very clear with the specifics of the food pyramid.  Too much was left up to interpretation.  How big is the pyramid?  How big is a serving? It looks as if a whole loaf of bread is a serving. Did we even know that a small, square inch cube of cheese is considered an entire dairy serving? When we eat dinner out, we are often served almost the entire pyramid in one meal.........MINUS the fruits and vegetables. Sorry, apple pie ala mode doesn't count (it's found at the tiny top of the pyramid which is a picture of sugar or salt).  

It's not entirely our fault that we misunderstood  the recommended portion sizes. I blame the media (hey why not - they get blamed for everything else) and their evil, suggestive selling techniques.  It seems whenever I watch television, every other commercial is food related.  It always looks great but the portions grossly differ from "My Plate".  Take this rack of ribs served with a pile of french fries and a tablespoon of coleslaw.  Like the prize in a box of Cracker Jacks - maybe you'll be lucky enough to find a pickle spear under the wet nap when it's time to clean your saucy fingers.  That counts as a vegetable, doesn't it?



Hence the creation of  "My Plate".  Look closely at the picture.  Does it look familiar? That's right - it's a baby plate with divided sections.  Apparently we need to be treated like children so that we don't eat ourselves into an early grave; or, even worse, feed our kids into obesity.  Sorry my fellow Americans, I'm in agreement on this one. We do need it dumbed down for us.  We were given a fair chance to intellectualize and make the food pyramid work and we failed.  I admit, we didn't ALL fail, but the majority of us did.  The result - children being diagnosed with type II diabetes, once called adult onset diabetes.  Type II diabetes is directly linked to diet and obesity.  That's just not okay considering we AND our public school systems feed our children.

Hopefully this one works.  Hopefully our public schools stop serving chocolate milk to our children and stop taking away recess as a punishment for stepping out of line or talking in class.  Children need to be more active and they need better choices nutritionally.  Snarky Happy Skinny Mrs out.

*If you'd like to learn more about the new and simplified nutrition recommendations, go to ChooseMyPlate.gov

If the Shoe Fits, Buy It - A Shopaholic's Cinderella Story

Once upon a time there lived a young woman who had very small feet and wore a very rare size 5 shoe.  This very small-footed woman worked for a very prestigious law firm and was required to wear very professional shoes at work.  Whenever the small-footed woman would venture into a shoe store, she would inquire of the salesman "do you have this shoe in a size 5?" The salesman politely replied, "I'm sorry, we don't carry anything in a size 5."  Once, the very small-footed woman was advised by a not-so-polite shoe salesman that she could either stuff a sock in the toe of a size 7 or try the children's shoe department, making the woman feel both frustrated and freakishly small.  The frustrated woman really wanted to tell the salesman where to stuff the size 7 shoes, but alas, she refrained.

One day,  the small-footed woman met a very nice, prince-of-a-salesman.  Looking obviously discouraged, she asked him "do you carry any shoe in a size 5?"  The princely salesman smiled and replied,  "You are a Cinderella - yes we do have a few pair in your size".  The very small-footed woman was overcome with joy so she purchased every size 5 shoe in the store.  It's no wonder she felt the need to buy every pair she could find, after all, she may never find another pair in all the land.  Out of  perceived necessity, a shoe shopaholic was born.

Before children, I wore a size 5 shoe. Having such small feet usually led to shoe shopping dread and frustration.  Asking for a size 5 in a shoe store was almost as ridiculous as asking if they carried any toaster ovens.  In America, the average woman's shoe size is an 8.  Most store clerks admit that the smallest size they carry is a 6 - and not too many of this size either, I might add.  So what's a Cinderella to do but to purchase every pair of shoes she can find in her size that aren't too uncomfortable or hideous. 

What I later learned was that during pregnancy, a woman's feet can grow up to a full size (they don't actually grow, they flatten out a bit).  After 2 pregnancies and the birth of 2 beautiful sons, my feet flattened into an obtainable size 6!  My feet are still small and I'm still considered a Cinderella, however, now shoe shopping is an enjoyable adventure which doesn't result in complete frustration. Now that I can more easily find shoes I have admittedly become a shoe shopaholic (I prefer to call myself a shoe 'collector').

My New Year's resolution for 2011 was to be more organized so I went through and organized my shoe 'collection'.  What I discovered was that I had more shoes than I realized, many of which I hadn't worn in years.  So, I made a new resolution - I resolved not to buy any new shoes in 2011 (pssssst - since I'm not likely to realize this goal I 'm back to my original resolution).

I also decided to part with shoes I hadn't worn in more than 3 years (approximately 20 pair).  I put them in a box  and put the box in the garage for my husband to take to the Good Will.  Sadly, that box is still sitting in the garage (I think my husband is testing me).  Yes, I do eye the sandals sitting at the top of the box and yes, I do contemplate pulling them back out of the box, but I stop myself.  I remind myself that they weren't very comfortable and I haven't worn them in a few years so I most likely won't ever wear them again.  Then, I rationalize that I may find a pair I like even more and once again, all is well in my shoe-addicted mind. 

Even though I no longer feel the need to purchase every shoe I find in my size, I still want to.  Maybe it's because I spent too many years unable to find shoes.  Maybe it's simply because I love 'collecting' shoes.  Maybe it's a little of both.  Sure, there are more expensive things I could collect - like diamonds, cars or time-shares in the Caribbean, but that's what shopaholics do - we rationalize.  Thankfully, I'm married to a prince-of-a-guy who puts up with my desire (I mean my need) for more shoes.  However, I have to be willing to take the tongue-in-cheek flack he'll lovingly dish out as I head towards the shoe department while we're out shopping - but those pewter, patent leather, slingback, peep toe pumps are worth it!  I NEED THEM. They match my car. 

I suppose somewhere, out there, there are support groups for those addicted to shoe shopping.  If there are nightly meetings, I'm sure I'm busy that night.  But, if any of my 'sole sisters' want to go out on a shoe shopping safari, I'll find a way to clear my calendar.

Red Carpet Ready - Why All Women Deserve Pampering

This Sunday marks the 84th Annual Academy Awards.  I'm more drawn to the Red Carpet preshow than the actual awards ceremony.  I'm intrigued by the glamour and poise of the Hollywood elite.  Is their elegance solely due to wearing vintage Valentino and having their earlobes adorned with Harry Winston?  Or,  is it the appearance of relaxed confidence that exudes such grace and elegance? 

It comes as no surprise to learn that most nominees spend Oscar day at the spa.  They're scrubbed, peeled, waxed, massaged, polished and pampered into a sublime state of body and mind.    No wonder they appear relaxed and confident on the Red Carpet.  Who wouldn't?  At some point we all find ourselves saying it, "if had their money, I could look that good too".  For many of us, it's not only about the cost of pampering, it's about managing to find the time to spend on ourselves and justify it without feeling guilty.

Relax and rejuvenate - as women, this concept seems as far out of reach as an Academy Award.  We find that, by necessity, we tend to put ourselves last on our priority lists.   We work, cook, clean, chauffeur......etc. We are efficient multitaskers and our to-do lists are both daunting and overwhelming.  It's no wonder we find ourselves feeling stressed and exhausted. We hope to relieve some of our stress by systematically chipping away at our to-do lists. The truth is, the list is never completed - as the old saying goes, "a woman's work is never done".

It was not until age 49 that I finally treated myself to my first pedicure.  It was also then that I realized that I was the one who had been depriving myself of pampering. The self-indulging and relaxing experience of my pedicure was what I benefited most from and what lures me back in to my salon again and again.  The nail polish on my toes is merely a bonus. 

I live in the Hudson Valley in New York State and I am a regular client at a privately owned salon, Allure Hair Salon (http://www.allureandspa.com/).  Owner/operator Gina Palmeteer and her expert staff offer both salon and spa services and products for hair, skin and nails - all without the spa price tag. 

When  I first arrive at Allure, I am greeted at the door by Gina or one of her attentive staff - Marissa, Kayla or Martha.  Before I have time to remove my jacket, I am offered a complimentary hot or cold beverage. Then, I'm escorted to a private room where I sit in a heated, massaging chair while my feet soak in a mineral whirlpool.  The lights are dimmed while I savour a cup of green tea and immerse myself in the luxury of this rare and tranquil solitude.  I make a point to turn off my cell phone, giving me a well deserved break from it all. 

Women are masters at making sure everything and everyone else is taken care of ahead of themselves - job, home and family.  Why do we find  it so difficult to make time for us? Even though we're not nominated for an Academy Award - we still deserve a little pampering every now and then.  It's proven that stress management is very important to both our physical and mental well-being. Feeling and looking more relaxed and refreshed is worth a little time and money - because, after all, we're worth it!

A Valentine's Day Tribute to My Husband - The Most Romantic Man I've Ever Met

I am a hopeless romantic. Valentine's Day comes along full of promise - the promise of love and romance.  Let's get straight to the point and call it what it is: the expectation of love and romance.  Expectations often lead to disappointment causing  both men and women alike to dread Valentine's day.  The pressure to provide the romance seems to be placed heavily on men.  Minimally, they are expected to purchase roses, chocolates, a romantic greeting card and make dinner reservations.  The jewelry commercials, however, claim that nothing says I love you more than precious metals and gems.  I'm not ashamed to admit I'm attracted to both gems and precious metals and I'm an absolute sucker for romance...... but, I have to disagree.  There are many meaningful ways to say I love you  - not just once or twice a year, but on a daily basis and not with purchased tokens but with gestures and words.  These day-to-day simple gestures are much more valuable and appreciated by this hopeless romantic. 

I am blessed to be married to the most loving and romantic man I've ever known.  It's what he does for me every day of our lives that tells me just how much he loves me. He pours me coffee and offers to make me breakfast.  He tells me he loves me many times every day - via text, in person and on the phone.  There is truth in the notion that it's not what you say but rather how you say it. It's in the way he looks at me and the gentle tone of voice -  the way he holds my hand and holds me in his arms that speaks volumes.  He tells me I'm beautiful - even when I'm feeling tired and spent. It's in the way he holds my face in his hands and assures me that he wants nothing more than to spend every day of his life with me.

Sure, he does occasionally shower me with gifts and romantic get-aways. I also enjoy a surprise bouquet of flowers over the expected holiday requirement. But it is in his loving and considerate daily words and gestures that I feel truly loved and valued.  Thank you to my wonderful husband for making every day feel like Valentine's day to me and for showing me the meaning of true love.