Too Much

(I’ve gone and done it again. My apologies, I scheduled incorrectly again)

More “If It Looks Expensive, Then You Paid Too Much”

I once bought a book that had a bookmark perforated on the inside cover that you could punch out and use to mark your place. Another book came with a figurine. Yet another had colored journal pages on the inside that you could rip out neatly to write down your thoughts.

That means I paid too much for the book.

Here are some more:

You ever go to a fancy resort and order takeout, and the takeout bag comes with plastic silverware rolled around napkins nicer than the ones you use on holidays? Then you paid too much.

You ever order room service and it comes with cute to-die-for mini jellies, ketchups, mayos, and mustards? Then you paid too much.

You ever buy a cookbook, and it comes with a netted bag of serving spoons or utensils? Then you paid too much.

You ever buy a netted bag of serving spoons or utensils, and it comes with a cookbook? Then you paid too much.

You ever go to a specialty food store and they give you your purchases in a thick, handled brown bag? Then you paid too much.

You ever buy a candle and it come with a smaller candle, a diffuser and a tea light? Then you paid too much.

You ever buy any item and it comes with a full year subscription to a magazine? Then you paid too much.

You ever buy a nice pair of shoes and it come with polish and a polishing cloth? Then you paid too much.

You ever buy a razor and it comes with shaving cream?

You get the idea. I could go on forever. Last one:

You ever go to the Apple store and you buy anything and it comes in a heavy cardboard box with a charger?

We’re all paying too much.

Early Bird

Sorry about Friday. Turns out I scheduled that post for July instead of June. The first thing I do in the morning before I leave for the day is read the day’s post and make sure it pops up on my phone and to check that it doesn’t have any typos. But for some reason on Friday I didn’t do that. If I had, of course I would have corrected the problem.

Go figure.  

The fact that I didn’t post correctly is ironic, because the post was about the benefits of being early. I like to think that everything good that has happened to me in my life is because of three things: reading books, enjoying solitude, and being early.

Now, I don’t refer here to the responsible qualities of early, although that is a major part of it. Of course being early makes you look responsible. Getting to work early and pleasing your boss is good, and getting Nana to the Jimmy Buffett venue early so that she doesn’t need to walk too far is being a good grandkid.

I refer instead to the quiet and unmuddled qualities of early. The clean, fresh qualities of early. Some of the best memories of my life have been when I was alone, and at my venue earlier than everyone else.

Alone in the school copy room as I sipped coffee and watched the early morning sun filter through the windows, leisurely making copies before the requisite daily cawing of seagulls (read, female faculty) commenced.

Getting to the gym early and enjoying plenty of floor space and the ability to move my body expansively and generously through the necessary range of movement.

Enjoying the beach in early morning, with all its grandeur and stillness.

Arriving early to church and getting my favorite pew, shutting my eyes and clearing my mind of troubles, and enjoying the empty cavernous peace before the music starts and the kids start screaming.

Being to the airport so early that I have time to visit the lounge, poke around gift shops, and people watch.

Early to hiking trails, busy restaurants, my favorite stores, enjoying the things I love about them without scads of other people ruining my experience. And that is the point. People have every right to descend upon the places I love, but it is my choice to already be up, there and gone by the time they show up. If it’s possible.

Maybe you like going out to dinner at peak time and waiting in line. Or having to fight for a pew in church fifteen minutes into the mass. Or sitting in traffic to get to work, then having to park a mile away. If I was a sociologist, I would posit that those are indicators of something aberrant in your personality. And what does it say about ME that I do everything possible to engage in activities (work excluded) that promise as little human interaction possible?

Talk about aberrant.

Nonetheless, that is what is beautiful about the human race. How different we all are. And somehow, we all manage to interact on this crazy spinning ball of mud.

Gotta run and get a good parking spot at work.

Huh?

Huh?

I was watching a movie where the protagonist collapses from a heart attack, and someone yells, “Quick, is there a doctor here?” The doctor rushes over, pushes friends and family out of the way, to kneel at the patient’s side. It was a dramatic cinematic moment, and it made me think what situations would necessitate someone yelling for me, as in “Please, is there an English teacher here?! This is an emergency!”

How about when New Jersey teenagers are using the word “like” every third word?

“Like, I know he, like, heard me, but, like, I’m not sure, like, what my grade is going to be, because, like, he’s not combining the homework, with the, like, classwork grades, so like, I’m, like, confused, as to what, like, to do, like.”

Commencement addresses? Instagram posts? How about whenever Kamala Harris opens her mouth to utter her moronic word salads?

(Kamala, you’re a disaster, and an embarrassment. Please fire your Communications’ Director, and call me. I can help you. Please stop talking, for the love of God).

Huh?

Tomorrow is International Widow’s Day. This is a cause I believe in deeply, and one day plan to be more involved with. I am conducting research with a research group that conducts interviews with underserved, unseen, unsupported, and unmeasured widows all over the world. If you’re interested, or if you have ever treated a widow like she is a big, dumb, useless, stupid idiot, feel free to get yourself educated. Here’s the website:

https://www.un.org/en/observances/widows-day

Huh?

If a piece of clothing has a tag on it that is a little book, telling the story of the manufacturer and her family and her genetic line, run, don’t walk. It’s too expensive. I was drawn to a cute nautical tank top in Nordstrom with this kind of tag, and the tank top was $395. You did not read that wrong. $400 for a tank top and a little tag book about Rag and Bone clothing.

Huh?

Jewelry Girl

Oh, to be a Jewelry Girl.

You know her. Maybe you are her. Maybe when you get ready for the day, you go to your expansive closet and open your jewelry case. Not jewelry box, but jewelry case, an actual piece of furniture with ten drawers, a padded velvet interior, and copper hooks.

You pull open your drawers and ask yourself: gold or silver today?

You decide the silver will look better with your tan, and you begin to patiently layer your necklaces by using the mirror at the top of your jewelry case. You step closer for a better look, and nod in approval. Next you go for rings, which are lovingly and gently encased in their velvet drawer, then consider your bangles and earrings. Your look is sophisticated and never overdone, and at the end of the day your jewelry goes back into its case, waiting for its next opportunity to shine. Meanwhile, the pieces you didn’t wear that day tingle in expectation that maybe tomorrow will be their day.

I’ve love to to be a Jewelry Girl, but certain personal circumstances prevent it.

There’s too much variety. How does one choose from the thousands of pieces online and in stores? How can anyone actually not like a piece of jewelry? Like if you get jewelry for a holiday, do you say, “This just isn’t me”? How do I know what is me, and what isn’t?

I’m too clumsy. I tend to get myself caught on, well, the planet. I get my sleeves caught on flatware, my pockets caught on drawers, my feet caught on hampers. Necklaces and bracelets and earrings are risky when attached to my body.

I lose it. Last month an expensive pearl stud fell out of my earlobe. It’s in the house somewhere. A month before that, I misplaced my beloved one-of-a-kind silver stacking ring I bought in Scottsdale. It’s in the house somewhere. Last summer I lost a rose gold hoop earring, a pair of earrings which was the last gift I received from my late husband. It is not in the house somewhere, but in a parking lot elsewhere.

I’m impatient and also going blind. I barely have enough patience and eyesight to put on one necklace much less a bevy of pieces.

I have recently fallen in love with a jewelry brand, a brand that is endorsed by my favorite actress. Something about their pieces does something to me. It’s like Andrew Wyeth’s art- I’m drawn to it, but I lack the words to explain how. I have begun secretly to stockpile pieces by this jewelry designer, which has its own display in Nordstom. My goal is to have an entire jewelry box filled with it. The prices range from reasonable to outrageously expensive, and so far I have invested in a bracelet and most recently, a necklace.

The necklace is on a very sturdy silver chain, and the bracelet is a silver cuff which is simply unloseable. I’m not taking any chances.

Own Your Morning

Morning hours are the hours we can control. So why not make the best of them? Here are five mistakes according to Liz Plosser that people make with their mornings.

HITTING THE SNOOZE. This is not about waking up at 5 a.m. It’s about waking up at the time that is most natural to you, and then getting up.

PICKING THE WRONG ALARM. Choose something sweet and pretty, like birds singing, or heart-pumping, like Van Halen’s “Jump,” if that’s what gets you going. Whatever makes you want to get up and get moving.

NOT PREPARING THE NIGHT BEFORE. Have your early morning clothes picked out, your coffee ready to be brewed, your laptop charged. Whatever it takes to feel like you own your mornings, not the other way around.

NOT UNDERSTANDING YOUR PERSONAL “POWER-UP.” What are your core values? Quiet time to journal or meditate? Hitting the pavement for a quick run? Coffee and nature sounds? Whatever it is, engaging in these tasks is pivotal to set the tone of your day.

NOT MOVING A MUSCLE. Again, everyone’s routine is different. It doesn’t have to be a five-mile run but even just rolling your head from left to right, or going into Happy Baby position. Maybe it will be the best part of your day, but at least you had a best part.

Have a great weekend, the weather is going to be phenomenal!

Charity Begins at Checkout

Barnes and Noble checkout counter:

Cashier: That will be $21.75. Would you like to round up and donate to St. Judes?

Me: Um, sure, that would be fine.

C: Thank you! Would you like to buy a cup of coffee for a military service member overseas for an extra .99?

Me: Yes, I’d love to do that.

C: Thank you! Would you like to take this opportunity and subscribe to three free magazines for $5.99?

Me: Oh no, that won’t be necessary.

C: Thank you! Would you like to buy this coffee mug for $9.99 that will go towards underserved college women in foreign countries?

Me: Um, not today.

C: Thank you! How about this adorable stuffed bear for 12.99? The bears and the proceeds go to Ukrainian orphans.

Me: Oh, gee, I’d really love to, but I don’t have enough money, I’m sorry. I assure you I donate to many charities that help Ukraine…

C: Thank you! We have a promotion going right now that for $30.00, you not only get a store membership and a free chocolate chip cookie, but also a donation towards the legal fees of molested Boy Scouts of America.

Me: Well, that’s a worthy cause, but I don’t really think…

C: Thank you! This new book by Elin Hildebrand is only $17.99, and if you buy four copies, three copies get sent to depressed women in Massachusetts who don’t want their children home for the summer. The money goes towards their Soul Cycle classes and nanny salaries.

Me: It’s not really my place to….

C: Thank you! Before you go, would you consider donating to this GoFund Me for a local family whose house burned down?

Me: No.

C: Meals on Wheels for fathers whose wives go away on girls’ weekends?

Me: No.

C: How about this church raffle that will offset costs for a small family of four to go to Disneyland?

Me: Nope.

C: A scratch-off ticket that will put money towards Governor Murphy’s dental work?

Me: Uh-uh.

C: (Hands me my purchases). Thank you! Will there be anything else today?

Me: I think that just about covers it.

Get Pitted

I’ve wanted to write this post about dating athletes for a long time. No offense intended here, so have fun!

Surfers:

Surfers are absolutely the worst athletes to date. Nothing matters to them except “shredding the gnar.” If the waves are good, they practically become asexual, like slime molds, and sea stars. No matter how gorgeous you look in that bikini, if you are passing a cute surfer on the left and the waves are on the right, you will get nothing but an indifferent (albeit curious) glance. If they are very passionate about surfing, they are often gone. This is because if there are no waves where they are, they will travel to where there ARE waves. They are always covered in sand, and have a high risk for skin cancer later in life.

Benefits? They’re always tan and encourage you to do nothing except sit on the beach, if that’s your life goal. 

Wrestlers:

Depending on his weight class and intensity, and whether he wrestles year-round, you could be stuck with a very hangry man. You cannot bake or cook if he’s around. You can’t go out to eat, you cannot eat in front of him, and you can’t even entertain the notion of food until the end of wrestling season. They’re always trying to cut weight, and you might even catch them doing pushups while wrapped in a trash bag.

Benefits? They can contort their bodies in a variety of ways, which is super fun. They like to put you in gentle half-nelsons, which is cute and sexy. You can feel safe with a wrestler, because they can easily diffuse any physical confrontation. I’ve seen skilled wrestlers take down men thirty pounds heavier with just a snicker, a flick of a wrist and the sweep of a leg. Things ease up when he finally becomes a wrestling coach, and tortures others instead of himself.

Runners:

They are always running, and most likely want you to run with them. This is bad, unless you are also a runner, which means you’re annoying AF as well. These men run on vacation and do 5ks on holidays. They carry energy gels everywhere they go, and when they run marathons, they wear diapers. Runners are very thin, so keep that in mind for pictures.

Benefits? Great cardiovascular systems. I can’t think of anything else. Who wants to run everywhere? I simply don’t see the appeal.

Gym rats:

These guys are always jittery from pre-workout and eating probiotic meals. They are constantly sore from leg day, and always complaining about their traps and lats. They look at themselves more than they look at you, and get secret spray tans. They dream of peanut butter, have kettlebells in the living room, and protein powder in the kitchen. They use strange terminology like “keto” and “AMRAPS,” and tend to use the word “Dude” a lot, which is fine unless they use it to refer to you, which is not sexy.

Benefits? Muscles. And their sport only takes a couple of hours a day, and it’s not televised.

Football players:

They are super fun and always bulking up, so they will always want to take you to get food, which is yay! But they might do dumb things like crush beer cans on their heads or flip cars with the entire defensive end. In the fall you will want to go to pumpkin patches but he will want to watch football all day, and then play a game of touch football at halftime. They are very strong and tough, and no one will mess with you. If they get hit on the head a lot they might already be dumb, or dumb later in life. They will have heated arguments with their buddies over which version of “The Longest Yard” is better. They have a huge friend group, and you will have to compete with them.

Benefits? Your family will love him. Your dad and brothers because he plays a blood sport, and your mom because he is a big, squishy, sweet bear of a man. You can get lost in his hugs, and you always look small next to him in photos.

Golfers:

These athletes are gone anywhere from four to twelve hours at a time. If they work during the week, they will risk not only your ire but life and limb to golf with buddies on the weekends. You must let him, because you can’t win the fight. They will use any long straight object to swing like a club in the yard and living room, and will obsess over their handicaps. As a golfer, let me just say: don’t get involved with a golfer unless you have high self-esteem and your own hobbies. Something you can do all day while he golfs. Because the golf bug never leaves you. Meet him for drinks afterward, or learn to golf yourself.

Benefits: Usually wealthy, accomplished, smart, good-looking, or any combination of those. Will ask you to join him on golf vacations, and will encourage you to get facials and massages so he can golf. Take him up on it, silly.

Skiers:

Skiing is super expensive, so he must have money.

Benefits: See above.

Bikers:

Everyone hates bikers, because they take up the road. You must forgive this societal stigma if you like him. Also, his ass and legs are skinnier than yours. This is almost unforgiveable.

Benefits: When you break up with him, he has transportation home.

Basketball players:

I know nothing about basketball or basketball players except that they’re tall.

Benefits: You will have tall children.

Hikers/Rock Climbers/Mountain Climbers:

The altitude supposedly affects the left hemisphere of the brain. Eventually.

Benefits: Erections form in the right hemisphere of the brain.

French Doors

I just finished reading David Sedaris’ new book Happy-Go-Lucky. It’s a good quick read, with Sedaris’ customary brand of humor. Not his best work, but when you’re writing about COVID, elderly parents dying in rest homes, child molestation, underage sex, and difficult life partners, even Sedaris’ humor can get, let’s say, a tad dark.

But only Sedaris could have handled these subjects with the aplomb, tact and honesty that he is known for. I have read every published word he has ever written, and I will continue to do so. I vow to you, right now, that one day I will meet three people:

David Sedaris

Mike Rowe

Joe Rogan

You heard it here first. I want to be on Joe Rogan’s podcast. Unfortunately for me, he doesn’t know this yet, which makes it tough to get booked.

Anyway, there is a chapter in Happy-Go-Lucky that takes place in France, where he and his partner Hugh have a small home. He discusses a boy named Olivier who develops a crush on Sedaris, and crawls through Sedaris’s window or walks in the house when he knows Sedaris is alone, trying to initiate sexual contact. Sedaris, of course, rebuffs the young boy, by yelling the oddest thing:

“Grandmother!”

After yelling “Grandmother!” Sedaris would run across the small road to Olivier’s grandmother’s house. The implication was obvious: “This is inappropriate, your grandmother is watching!” It is both a sad and hysterical perspective of young love and raging hormones.

But the part that struck me is when Sedaris mentioned that in France, everyone leaves their door open all the time, no matter what gets in. The doors stay open, period. And I wondered if that’s where we get French doors- you know, opening French doors to let the light and space in.

And I wonder if also, perhaps, my French heritage is to blame for the fact that I leave my front door open, all-year round, all-day long, weather permitting. I hate shutting my front door, and I have never known why.

When I purchased my front door during home renovations, I asked my contractor to put in a screen door, but he said it wouldn’t work, not with the door I wanted. So fine. I just started leaving the front door open all the time.

Yes, we get flies. Yes, Mr. Squirrel comes in at all times of the day. Two nights ago my son was making himself a salad, looked up, looked at me and said, deadpan:

“There’s a squirrel in the house.”

Mr. Squirrel is very bold and very greedy, and comes right up to the pantry door to wait for his peanuts. I drop a peanut right by my feet, and he has no fear. That way I get to hear his little feet making the little tap-tap-taps over my wooden floor as he goes back outside with his prize. Cutest thing. Even my son thought the sound was cute.

But encouraging him to come in is dumb. I know. He’s a rodent. He wouldn’t think twice about ransacking my house if I wasn’t home. He’s not a pet. I just can’t help it. For the first time in over ten years, I even got Mr. and Mrs. Duck to come in. They came right over the threshold to get their critter food of corn and sunflower seeds. My son witnessed it.

I shouldn’t encourage wild animals to come in my house. But what can I tell you? I’m French.

Data Capture

I was speaking to a member of my media team last month, and he said something prescient that I haven’t forgotten.

We had been speaking about my appearance at a small business expo, and this led to a discussion about my book, my platform, and my options moving forward. He wanted me to push through, ride aggressively the wave of my recent activity, and take some new risks.

But he sensed my hesitancy. And pounced.

I voiced my belief that perhaps it is time for me to step back and reassess. Regroup. Reevaluate. I have enjoyed both mild and major professional successes this past year, and with my father on the downslide and my taking a break from travel for the summer, I want to just stop.

Stop. Stop pushing and grinding and forcing and insisting. Not to stop succeeding. I’ll never stop succeeding. But to take breath. A break from fighting and struggling against the tide rather than letting it carry me in. Enjoy some new personal relationships, give my attention to people, rather than words. Ride the wave of my TED talk, accept a national writing award in Ohio in the fall, maybe do some private writing that no one will ever see until it’s on the screen. Let the storm build behind me.

He disagreed, obviously.

“Now is not the time to stop,” he said. He sent me a link of some woman my age who puts out Tik Tok videos where she dances and meditates and offers life coaching.

“Tik Tok,” he said, “it’s fun! That might be just the thing for you, Mary. You have the personality for it.”

Tik Tok the thing for me? My personality? Humoring him, I checked out her account, and it was just so sad and desperate. I watched this old woman trying so hard to be relevant, when she just…wasn’t.

I once sent in a writing sample for a lifestyle blog, just for fun, and the editor responded by telling me it was funny, but showed I didn’t really understand meta, SEO and data capture.

She was right. And I don’t care about meta, SEO and data capture. Or social media, or visits, or followers, or numbers. I’m done. The world continues to become more complicated, more technological, and more counterfeit. So I’m pulling back.

Even this blog will change soon. Drastically, most likely before the close of 2022. Chrysalis Collective will eventually go back on the road, and will morph. How, I don’t know. But I have some ideas.

Until then, I’ll be posting three blogs a week. Thanks for floating with me.

Movement Inspires

Next time you go for a drive, complete this challenge: Every time a driver does something that pisses you off, check out if it is a Kia. I guarantee that 80 percent of stupid moves on the road are done by Kia drivers. Let’s allot another five percent to people in Hyundais, and another five to Infinity drivers. That leaves 10 percent for every other car model.

And if you are the owner and driver of a Kia, please forgive me for this question, but:

 Are you ok?

Why are you so angry? Why do you speed so recklessly? Why do you pass from the wrong lanes? Why do you tailgate? Why do you drag race at red lights? Why are you always scowling? Why do you always have trash piled up on your back window?

I mean, are you angry because you had to buy a Kia? Do you love your Kia, but feel shame about it, like ABBA fans? Are you not angry, but you want us to think you’re angry? Do you have low self-esteem? Are you trying to prove that Kias are just as good as every other car brand? Do you think that we think your car is a shit box, so you want to try and kill us with it?

Is a personality test required to purchase a Kia?

Thank you for the interest in this Kia. Please fill out this questionnaire with as much honesty as possible by answering Yes or No:

Do you believe that movement inspires?

Do you believe that fast and reckless movement inspires even more than safe movement?

Do you agree to mow down slow-moving drivers and pedestrians?

Do you agree to attend anger management sessions?

Do you agree to drive 30-40 miles faster than the legal speed limit?

Do you agree to never wave anyone ahead of you into traffic?

Do you agree to weave in and out of lanes on major highways?

Do you agree to risk the lives of yourself, your loved ones and other drivers for the entire length of time you drive this vehicle?

Thank you for filling out this questionnaire. If you answered “Yes” to at least six of these questions, you are now a proud owner of a Kia. Remember to drive irresponsibly, and never forget:

Movement inspires.