Half Nekkid Thursday: Mudpacking It In Early

Yeah OKC, I can smile!

Tonights activity:  Some warm homemade orangecello and a hot soak in the bathtub, covered with Princess Marcella Borghese Fango. Then, early to bed!

Fango is made with volcanic mud from Terme di Montecatini in Tuscany, long revered for its supposed healing powers.  I’ve been using fango for at least 15 years and love the texture: Slippery without feeling slimy. It goes on easy and also washes off easily so long as you don’t allow it to dry completely.  It also smells wonderful: I can close my eyes and imagine myself here:

Terme di Montecatini sees as many a 150,000 visitors flock to it’s  gardens every year to relax and soak in the mineral rich waters. Montecatini has been a popular spa destination since 400 BC.

Happy 4th!

Bar Nekkid Lady

Quoting from the Sports Illustrated Q&A: Bar Refaeli’s favorite thing to do on a rainy day: “stay in bed and watch movies.“

This video of model Bar Refaeli was ostensibly used to promote an art exhibit? Huh. Was it a porn exhibit? I mean, she’s just exhibiting her body.  Hasn’t “Naked Woman on a Bed” been done before?  And did they really have to use that clip from”Music To Cut Yourself To?”

I fast forwarded through it, just in case Ms. Refaelli did something interesting, but no.  Just a nekkid woman on a bed, hell I can see that every day by looking in a mirror but knock yerselves out I guess.  Here’s my question for the Hive Mind, though:  Does this digital overshare make you more interested in Bar Refaeli’s body (ahem) of work?  Will it make her (more) famous, at least in a “no publicity is bad publicity” kind of way?  More generally, does digital oversharing make a person more or LESS interesting, overall?

Or are you just thinking “wait, what did you just say?” because all you can do is stare, and who cares?

Sing it Sister! Def Poetry by Suheir Hammad

Suheir Hammad just moved me to tears. Wow that was deep. She wrote it for her brother, a Muslim in the U.S. Navy, after the events of 9/11.  Still timely, still hits you right there.

Sweet Tart Stew

Yummy recipe from Just Hungry

Rhubarb is great permaculture: Plant it once and it will come up every year.It need to be split only once per decade, so it’s perfect for lazy gardeners like me!

I found out from Savor the Rhubarb why my one large in-ground rhubarb plant is giving me green stalks: The soil is too acidic! I live in New Jersey and this is to be expected. Wood ash added to the soil will correct the PH.

The leaves are poisonous, so always remove them before eating. Rhubarb is very tart and should be stewed with sugar. Here’s one way to do it, but I am too lazy to try it.  I just sprinkle mine with sugar and put it in the microwave.  If I have strawberries I throw them in and voila! Sweet tart stew.

I just planted three more!

Fashion: The Bottom Line

Gallery of the Absurd, via TheFrisky

I’m barely paying attention these days, but from where I sit out here in the cheap seats  it looks as though Karl Lagerfeld is the only fashion designer exhibiting any class.  As usual Karl has opted for classic clean lines in black and white for his Spring/Summer 2009 collection. Rich people should take heed and adopt the Chanel look, because Karl appears more than willing to usher them through the Financial Apocalypse, anonymously. Good call.

So what’s the bottom line with fashion these days?  It’s not hard to figure out:  The fashion industry is dead. Long live fashion! The handcrafted heart of the industry, couture, is alive and well while the rest of it is undergoing triage like everything else. Everything  that caters to the masses is shriveling up for now, because the masses don’t have any money.

Apparently Karl doesn’t want us to wear pants this season, either.

In the more mass-marketed corner of the fashion industry there is a conspiracy to get women to stop wearing pants. That’s right ladies; the boys in marketing finally just decided to cut to the chase:  They want to see our cooters. I suppose it’s all they ever really wanted anyway.  I’m a fan of the no-pants look since my body is hard to fit, but dayum!  I don’t want to feel like I need a bikini wax or a Cuchini before going out in public.  I opt for dresses, because  tights are not pants. Neither are leggings.  I’ll wear them of course, but only as pajamas or under a dress.

“Fashion is not something that exists in dresses only. Fashion is in the sky, in the street, fashion has to do with ideas, the way we live, what is happening.”

- Coco

Here’s what I find so interesting about fashion:  Despite all the real pain that this massive economic readjustment entails, art will remain, which in turn means that fashion will remain. It doesn’t matter if we live in New York City or the Serengeti: Dressing will always be a self-expressive pleasure. Civilization itself could collapse and it wouldn’t matter:  One day someone would encounter a rock on the ground with a hole in it, put a string through it and hang it around his or her neck, and the fashion parade would start anew.

If my wardrobe were to go poof! and I had to start anew, I would look to Chanel.  I wouldn’t be able to afford Chanel, mind you, but who needs to?  It’s easy enough to copy.  I bet every woman has something in her closet she could put together in homage to Coco Chanel: A black pencil skirt, a plain white shirt, ballet flats and a string of plastic pearls.

Laugh all you want at the silly vagaries of fashion, but in her own little way Coco Chanel freed womanity from its stays. Literally! Coco single handedly caused the sea change among the well-to-do  away from stiff Victoriana and toward sportswear, flat shoes, costume jewelry and ready-to-wear.  Coco Chanel invented “the little black dress.” Yay Coco!

Coco Chanel Blog

I love the special way that Karl Lagerfeld channels Chanel, despite my looking terrible in his fashions. I don’t have the right body type for boxy jackets. I look ridiculous in bows and flounces, not to mention horrid in black and white. I like my pearls real, thank you very much. Still I’m a member of Cult Chanel.  I simply riff off Karl’s ideas and make them my own. Karl  is my blank white canvas.

Leave the white collars and cuffs to the rich girls.

Here’s what I do with Chanel:  Anything  Karl Lagerfeld designs in white I imagine in another color.  Usually it’s a neutral, one that does not show dirt so easily.  White is impossible to keep clean, so if you must buy white get it cheap knowing you’ll toss it out in a few months. I have a pair of white linen pants and a few white t-shirts, but that’s about it. Taupes, pale pinks and greys play the role of white in my life.

The absolutely simple white flower is a mark of Chanel-inspired design.  This is the setting from the Spring/Summer 2009 haute couture show.

Fashion has been a bottom-up operation for decades. Couture designers have been taking inspiration from the streets, mass producing it with sweatshop labor and selling it back to us at a markup.  If you think about it long enough, you’ll probably agree that the arrangement is pretty messed up.

Why not take fashion back from the industry? Why pay hundreds of dollars for mass marketed aspirational looks when for less money you can do what real rich people have been doing since, well,  forever? Here’s what rich people do:  They shop their grandparents’ attics.  They have  their old clothes repaired and redesigned by local tailors. They get their shoes resoled. When something truly special requires an event dress they have a one-of-a-kind creation made by hand, just for them.  It costs less than you think, and by taking fashion back into your own hands you could have a nice, perfectly fitting wardrobe for less money, AND give jobs to people in your community. In this world everybody could win!

“Fashion fades, only style remains the same.”

- Coco

And if you’re too poor for any of that, just don’t worry about it, because it doesn’t matter.  They’re just clothes. Or, just make like Karl Lagerfeld and embrace the black!  Go Karl!  Gotta love that crazy, narcissistic German dandy with the weird affectations.  He has class, he has vision, and as usual he’s nailed the Zeitgeist, which makes his Fall 2009 collection especially interesting:  It’s a homage to ye olde Russian royals.  Someone must of tipped off Karl to what’s coming, hmmmmm . . .

The Bigger Picture [On The Runway]
Bic Pic: Further Thoughts [On The Runway]

Jerry Hall hams it for the cam.  It seems as though Karl is telling us ladies of a certain age that “All you need is luxury bed linens a face lift, a boy toy and a classic handbag.”  Hmm.

Day Off

Half Nekkid Thursday: PHHHHBBBLLLLT

It’s time I admit it:  I am useless at the end of a long day at work. Why do I bother making plans?   How did I survive parenthood, let alone night school?  I was much more energetic back then. These days I’m lucky if I can remember to put out the recycling.

It’s the adrenal fatigue, not a medical diagnosis but a collection of symptoms related to chronic stress.  Stress causes the adrenal glands to pump out cortisol but it can only do so for so long before they crap out.  At least that’s the theory. Since my premenstrual dysphoria (PMDD) can give me an acute adrenal crisis, I don’t care if “adrenal fatigue” is officially recognized by the medical establishment or not.  Ignoring my adrenals can lead to repeat visits to the emergency room, which gets extremely expensive at $500 a pop, $1000 when an ambulance is involved.

Last weekend was borderline. I was alone, and managed to get some yogurt and chicken in my stomach and put myself to bed, fully dressed, shivering, under my blankets, to pray.  On an 80 degree sunny day!  I lost 2 pounds in 12 hours. Everything left me.

Yes, I’ve been to the doctor and I have a lab slip for a whole series of tests on this and that.  I need to figure out what lab my new insurance will allow me to use.  Meanwhile, I’ve finally connected the dots between my PMDD – which causes enormous stress – and my mystery trips to Never Neverland on the other side of my cycle. I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out.  Crapped out adrenals, dammit.  Or, if you prefer, plain old STRESS. All it took was super-imposing my food diary over my menstrual cycle, and voila: It always happens at the exact same time of the month, and always when I eat certain things, or neglect to eat other things, or forget to eat entirely. Dammit dammit dammit! Why didn’t I think of this before?

There’s even a “pupil test” one may do at home to determine whether or not one’s adrenals might be bugging:

To perform this on yourself, you’ll need a flashlight and a mirror. Face the mirror, and shine the light in one eye. If after 30 seconds the pupil (black center) starts to dilate (enlarge), adrenal deficiency should be suspected.

Why does this happen? During adrenal insufficiency, there is a deficiency of sodium and an abundance of potassium, and this imbalance causes an inhibition of the sphincter muscles of the eye. These muscles normally initiate pupil constriction in the presence of bright light. However, in adrenal fatigue, the pupils actually dilate when exposed to light.

I totally failed the pupil test on Saturday. By now I know exactly how an adrenal crisis feels, and what I need to do/NOT do, to make it better and keep myself out of the hospital:  Eat salty proteins, and avoid potassium and stimulants.  For once a trip to McDonalds for some beefy cheesy glory beats a banana and a cup of coffee.

Anyway, here I am, a few days later and I’m still recovering.  I had a whole “to do list” to get through – I should have had my bedroom renovation finished by now – but I guess I should just cut myself some slack and say f*ck it. PHHHBLLT. It doesn’t matter.

PMDD Threat Advisory Code Red: Buzzed

And the HPS PMDD Fixation Award Goes to . . .

(drumroll)

. . . PF Chang’s, coffee, Scorpio and sex! (Cheers) This has been best premenstrual fixation so far, even if it means I’m jazzed on caffeine and waking up every few hours to re-experience certain things. Which reminds me: I need to buy more batteries!

I even woke up at 3:00am to get the latest PF Changs  doggie bag out of my car.  I ate my morning leftovers with a fresh cuppa joe, thinking I hope Scorpio’s departure to Las Vegas for his son’s bachelor party this week doesn’t morph me into an irrational, jealous and lonely freakshow AGAIN, Las Vegas being the reason we broke up in the first place.

No, I won’t think about that. Nope. I’ll just suck on my coffee and savor the sexy memories. I figure, after, what, four years? I should be able to handle it.

Coffee pot from mloge’s Flickr photo stream

Fried HPS on the Halfshell

It was a perfect weekend for a family visit and another trip to the beach!  Usually when one thinks of a busy summer beach one imagines white sands and tan bodies, but  I get it backwards:   Tan sand and my white body. 20 SPF, and I still got burned on those parts of my body I forgot to cover. Ouch . . .

Day Off

It’s supposed to be rainy tomorrow, so instead of digging in the yard I’ll sleep in!

Let’s see how far I can get on my bedroom this weekend.

Half Nekkid Thursday: Piano Girl

A gift from Scorpio: A piano keyboard, what a sweetie!

When I was a child I had light blonde hair for real, and I played classical piano. I remember my absolute favorite thing to bang out was the first movement of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Sonata Pathetique. Here is Vladmir Horowitz playing it. This is Emil Gilels playing the same thing: Notice how different his version sounds: The Horowitz version seems much more delicate, while the Gilels verison is moodier.

I played it with Gilel’s emotion, loud and fast and intense.  It probably gave my mother and stepfather horrible headaches, but the movement was great stress relief for a hyper-brainiac teenager with social anxiety. Unfortunately I’ve not had regular access to a keyboard since I moved out of my mother’s house when I was sixteen. As the saying goes, “Use it or lose it!” I lost it, and always regretted it.

I’ve been searching for sheet music online and found updated versions of the lesson books I used when I was five years old. Of course I had to buy them! I’m on lesson three now, (re) memorizing musical notation. Pretty soon I’ll have “Chopsticks” mastered, and then . . . ?

Half Nekkid Thursday: Muddy Waters

No time to blog because the garden is calling!

It’s rainy and cool. Spring showers!  Believe it or not, this is the best time if the season to make changes to your landscape.  The heavy labor keeps you warm, the wet dirt moves easily and you don’t get sunburned.  But oh, the mess!

Much Better!

I can’t exactly say I figured out my camera, but I fiddled with the settings long enough that now the colors on my freshly painted walls show up almost right.

My Song for the World

The Druids call this time of year Alban Eilir

You

by Jesse Powell

You….. I’ve finally found the nerve to say
I’m gonna make a change in my life
Startin here today
I surrender all my love
I never thought I could
I’m giving all my love away
and there’s only one reason that I would
and baby its you…

I’m a bad witch: I don’t belong to a coven. I’m a suburban solitary and I like it that way. You’d never guess my “faith” by looking at me.

My worship is a love relationship with the Life Force that borders on the erotic.  I suppose this  is why love songs are my liturgies. My holy days – this weekend being the Spring Equinox – are for quietly rededicating myself to my #1.  “Cause sometimes I forget. I suppose that’s why I’m so comfortable being “unpartnered: ” Because I’m not, really. I’m in a pretty intense relationship right now, and it feels good.

the way you walk
the way you talk
the way you say my name and smile
the way you move me
the way you soothe me
the way you sleep softly throught the night
every mornin ya rise and open your eyes
I just wanna be there with you baby
I just wanna be yours from this day forth . . .