Annie, my dear mom, happy Mother's Day.

I discovered this beautiful picture of my mom which was taken when she was in her late 20's. She is pictured with her mother, Bertie. Annie Mae Campbell was born in Tennessee in 1928, and this photo of her was taken on the farm where she grew up--You can see the fields behind her. I think her crisp cotton skirt and blouse give her a country sweetness and feminine quality all her own. Her kerchief hides those familiar pincurls I'm used to seeing her with ever since I was a kid.

My mom is now 79, and still going strong. She's as feisty as ever. As I've grown up and become a woman, my relationship with her is different than it was when I was a girl. We are much closer now. She is my best friend, fierce defender and confidante. Even now, she would still go for the jugular of anyone who'd try to hurt me. I think that protective motherly instinct is something that never diminishes, no matter how old your children get. I know my mom will always be in my corner.

I want my mother to know I love her and am so glad she is mine. I want her to know how deeply grateful I am for all she's done for me in my life, and for everything she is still doing for me. She sacrificed so much to get me where I am today. Thank you mom for loving me. Thank you for those Jello pies you make just for me. Thank you for our occasional Friday nite sleepovers at your house that make it possible for us to visit and talk and laugh just like girlfriends. It gives me a much needed break from my domestic life, and you, more than anyone, understand that I need that sometimes. There's no mom like you. You are a precious jewel in my life. Happy Mother's Day today and everyday.

Girlfriends, cherish your time together

Mr. Big to Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte: "You're the loves of her life and a guy's just lucky to come in fourth."

Big, of course, understood, (even if it was ficticious), that a woman's friends are everything to her, especially as we get older and more independent. Sometimes, in some ways, more important than our love relationships with our men. We turn to our friends when things go wrong with our love relationships, our jobs or with other friends. Our girlfriends are our confidantes. Only a few friends of mine know EVERYTHING about me-secrets that I would faint over it they became public knowledge-Things I couldn't hold in-but just had to get out. My truest friends are like living, breathing vaults. What I tell them gets stored safely and kept from being revealed. At my age, when I get stressed about things, and just can't take them anymore, calling my mother is not what I prefer. Instead, I think about unloading on my girlfriends because I know they will always listen and won't be parental. We encourage eachother to talk, divulge, and lend our shoulders to cry on and in some way, we kind of enjoy it. We are eachother's therapist. I love my friends deeply and with all my heart. They know who they are. I look forward to being with them as much as I can, and treat my monthly gatherings like religious events-they're not to be missed. Because being with the girls is important in keeping a woman's soul content. It's necessary for the health of my mind and my well being. Without them I'd be forever lost.

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My mom called me in the middle of the day last Wednesday with a pleading tone in her voice. "Would you please pick me up today and take me to the hospital to see Dorothy-she's taken a turn for the worse, and they don't think she'll make it through the night." Dorothy is my mom's friend of 30 years and she is dying of lung cancer. I knew my mom had no way to get to the hospital on her own, because she has a difficult time seeing when she drives. I had so much to do that day-a doll to make for a Mother's Day order and I was dug in and on a roll and I didn't want to leave because I had a strong desire to finish and get it mailed out. But, more than wanting to finish that doll, I had a knawing feeling that I was the only way my mom would get to see Dorothy while she was still alive and I didn't want to be the reason why she was denied that right, particuliarly since I was basically available and able to do it. I knew this was important to her, so I agreed to take her to the hospital.

While in the car travelling to the hospital, my mom reflected on her years of friendship with Dorothy and, through tears, told me Dorothy is her only girlfriend and she will be so lost without her. My mom is going to be 80 in November and Dorothy just turned 71. My mom kept saying, "I never thought I'd be seeing this day-I thought she would be burying me. Why does God take the good ones?" I really didn't know what to say, so instead, I just lent an ear to her painful memories.

We got to the hospital and didn't know what to expect, because she hadn't seen Dorothy since before she got diagnosed with cancer just before Easter. With trepidation, we entered the room and saw Dorothy lying in the bed, asleep with her mouth wide open and drawn in, and she was beginning the shallow type of breathing called 'chain stoking, which is characteristic of impending death. I recognized it from going through this when my mother-in-law was dying of cancer. They can hear you, all you have to do is go up to them and say their name and they open their eyes for a few seconds and acknowledge you then go back into what seems a semi-coma.

The tears came quickly for my poor mom. She absolutely hated seeing her best friend lying there helpless and ready to die. She just kept saying, ''What am I going to do without her? She's my only girlfriend." It tore my heart out listening to her. I imagined the future and being in her shoes. What if it was one of my precious girlfriends lying there dying? I would be absolutely besides myself with grief. My friends are so important to me-now more than ever in my life, I have needed them like a daily dose of vitamins. What is my mom going to do?

I urged her to go by Dorothy's side and talk to her-to let her know she's there and that she should tell her the things she wants her to know before she passes. This was her only chance. She stood there, stunned, tears running down her wrinkled cheeks. All she could do was gently and lovingly rub her friend's arm from elbow to wrist, incapable of saying a word. "Mom," I encourged, "Talk to her. She can hear you."

"Dorothy...it's Ann. I'm here. I love you." Dorothy very briefly awoke, nodded her head and told her, very weakly that she loved her, too. Oh, my God, it was so sad. Tears welled up in my eyes and it was all I could do to keep from crying, but I had to be strong for my mom.

We sat there for a few hours and watched her rest. I sat at the foot of her bed and watched Dorothy's chest rise and fall, and I could see her heart beating through her hospital gown. Her poor heart was working as hard as it could, but soon, very soon, it would beat it's last. Her breaths were distant and long, and I found myself breathing in time with her. I felt short of breath because her breathing rhythm wasn't enough for me to sustain myself comfortably. I imagined if that's what dying felt like. (Trust me. In a quiet room with a dying person, there's not much to do and your imagination can run away with you.) Each breath was followed by the next in what seemed like an eternity. She appeared to be gasping for air because she was only breathing with one lung-the other was full of cancer and wasn't functioning. As she lay there, I got fearful, and kept thinking she was going to die right in front of me. I watched her and thoughts flooded my mind of when she was healthy-she was so funny, and full of life. She and my mom were both career waitresses. Dorothy had just quit working less than a year ago. These women both worked hard their entire lives and had a real commonality. They understood eachother. They confided in eachother, cried together, and shared laughter and joys. It was all about to come to an end.

The nurse came in and asked Dorothy if she wanted her to call her daughter from Pennsylvania, and she slowly nodded her head yes, and said very stongly, "I love her!" I won't ever forget that. I plan on telling her daughter Diana what she said. I know it will make her feel good.

My mom called me yesterday and told me Dorothy passed at 7am while her priest was praying over her. She died peacefully and with God. Now my mom is friendless and my heart truly aches for her. What is she to do? She's almost 80, and it's probably too late for her to make new friends, at least the the kind with deep bonds of trust that's shared between two women that only comes after a long time of sharing and caring. After 45 years of life together, my mom and I have the same elements of a friendship, hewn from decades of familiarity, and weathering difficult stages of life together, finally popping to the surface in one piece and still loving eachother. We see eachother as equals now. I'm still 'the kid' but in some ways, my mom is now seeing me as a confidante-a friend. I find myself turning to her at times of stress. I love her. I enjoy her company. It's time for me to step up to the plate and take her under my wing. My mother needs a friend now and that friend is me.

Lipstick #1 in the makeup bag...

Yes, I've found it to be true. Lipstick is my friend. There was a time when I never wore it-I thought it made me look older. Heck, during high school, the most attention my lips ever got was a quick slick from a big ole' Bonnie Bell strawberry lip gloss. But never lipstick. Now, 30 years later, I can't live without it. If I don't have it on, my lips look pale, naked and very unkissable. And we can't have that, now can we?

My favorite lipstick of all is Revlon Colorstay. It lasts all day, and it's usually still on my lips the next morning when I wake up. This stuff is incredible. My favorite shades I wear all the time are Bare Maximum and Sheer Pomegranite. I have a few other shades I love, but these are the colors I like to wear most of all. This lipstick brings a pop of color to my face, makes my lips look very sensuous and helps me feel a little put together. Some lip color and a good face cream with some SPF in it does me good until later when I can put on some Bare Minerals power foundation and some blush. A little mascara and voila! I'm good to meet anyone on the street.

Is there one makeup essential you can't live without? Let me know what it is.

A bone to pick with fashion magazines...

Click on each photo to enlarge...




Yellow is the trendy, delicious surprise color this season. I think this sundress is fabulous, but, alas, at these prices, I may have to fashion one for my self by hand on my trusty sewing machine.

Okay. Maybe I'm being ridiculous or it's very possible I just don't get it. Why do fashion magazines, with the exception of Vogue or Harpers Bazar, put clothing on their models that are so outrageously expensive, most mainstream women can only dream of owning them, much less actually can go out and purchase these garments for themselves?

Here's my beef. I am devouring my new May issue of More, (my very favorite women's magazine) and I come upon this fabulous spread featuring Christie Brinkley in a combination interview/fashion show. She's beautiful, we all know it, and at 56, she's unbelievably fabulous looking. All well and good. Okay, so I am completely turned on to the yellow sundress, and immediately start coveting it for myself. Where can I find it, and how much is it? I read the small print that gives the clothing facts, and I'm floored-but not surprised. The dress is a Diane Von Furstenberg, and the price is a whopping $385! Wait, it gets better. The shoes she's wearing with that sunny yellow number are $595! See that gorgeous yellow jacket she's wearing in the closup on the opposite page? That is really something, isn't it? Couldn't you just see yourself going somewhere important in that baby? Well, you can' t have it-and you know why? Because it's $1715!!!

Let's move on a bit more, shall we? Next page-see that adorable raspberry jacket that fits her like a glove? I'd give a a thick lock of my hair for that, even though it probably doesn't come in plus sizes, and even if it did, it wouldn't look like that on me-but hey, I'd love to have it anyway. This jacket, according to small print adjacent to the photo is a Burberry (you know it's unobtainable already, don't you?)Prorusm (huh?) neoprene scuba trench. Yes, you read right, it's a scuba coat-whatever. So do you love it enough to pay $2995? No, I didn't forget the decimal point, it's almost 3 thousand dollars. You can have a really state of the art refrigerator for that kind of money. Oh, and underneath, peeking out is a white, Ralph Lauren tank for a bargain price of $88. Geezzzze!

You get my point, I'm sure. Of course, these prices are a pittance for really wealthy people, but I know damn well, the vast majority of women reading these magazines are mainstream, middle class gals with a few wealthy women peppered in for good measure. Why do these stylists, editors-whom ever is in charge-choose to exhibit clothing with such out of this world price tags? I mean, it's bad enough most of us don't look like models, now we can't even hope to purchase the clothing they wear so we can pretend or fantasize (as some of use do) to look even an iota as fashionable as these some of these gals do. This really pisses me off. What is the purpose of this spread? To show off Christie Brinkley, I bet. Who gives a crap about her-I want the flippin' yellow sundress!!!

As I stated a paragraph ago, I wanted that yellow sundress so much, I was ready to plunk down a fairly sizable amount of money to get it- but my budget on a dress is about $100 tops and that's only if it's really cool and unusual. What the heck? I'm convinced, if they put reasonably priced good clothing on these models, they would sell a whole lot more product and women would be praising these magazines for doing them such a great service in advertising such gorgeous clothing. I was lamenting on this subject last night and my husband chimed in and said in a condenscending tone, "Well, we all know if the clothing is cheap, women won't buy it assuming it's not good quality." I said "Bull! I don't think the clothing has to be extremely cheap, just 'obtainably' expensive." I don't want clothing of the quality of SJP's Bitten line. I really think those clothes are bottom of the barrel. What I would like is something that doesn't require me to mortgage my house or take from my childrens' college fund in order to be able to pay for it. (Not that I would...this is just an example.)

More magazine has a target audience of wise women over 40 who have their shit together and are sensible. This is insulting to me, a wise woman of 45. I would never spend this kind of money on an article of clothing. It's completely ridiculous. Do they think it's entertaining for most of us readers to sit and read about beautiful Christie Brinkley and her gorgeousness, being made to feel like we are window shopping, salivating for what we can't have or ever hope to afford?

I am by no means a fashionista, or fashion follower, for that matter. But I do know what I like and I do know what I can afford. I just wish these magazines were down to earth. Specifically, the More articles are interesting and intelligent and aren't geared toward just the elite or twiggy models, so why should the fashion content? In fact, now that I think about it, these magazines don't really appeal to larger women, either. Most middle-aged women generally do not fall into the slender category because with age, comes thicker middles. Why not cater to women of all sizes so we feel like we matter just as much as the thin women? Do I make sense, or am I all wet here? Feedback, please, if you have any thoughts on this.

Looks like I need to direct my letter right to the editor where there's More room for improvement. Now, I'm off to look for some sunshiney yellow fabric and a pattern to try to make that sundress my own. Damn them for teasing me like this!

Get a free Gorgeously Green reusable shopping bag

I was reading Gorgeously Green, and hit upon a spot where the author tells us how to get for FREE a really neat eco-friendly shopping bag through her website. Here's the link:

http://www.gorgeouslygreen.com/bag.php Hit the red button that says Redeem Free Bag

and type in 'girl' for the secret word. (lowercase, just like that, omitting the appostrophies.)

All they charge you is 3.96 shipping. These are $5 bags and I think they look pretty chic and stylish, don't you? They take Paypal or pay through a Google shopping cart.

I wanted to get this out early before I post some interesting things I'm thinking about in this book. I wanted to let you all know about this today because you are probably doing some internet shopping and you might as well pick this up, too. Go GREEN!

Just a funny little thought...

Okay, I just got to thinking about Hillary possibly winning the election since she won the crucial state of Pennsylvania tonight. So. If Hillary does indeed become the first woman president, what on earth do we call Bill? The "first husband?"

Well, I got it. How's this...considering his 'reputation' and weakness for women, I thought the most appropriate name for him would be, "The First Ladies Man." Don't you agree? I wanted to get this out there before anyone else thought of it.

What do you all think? Got a better title than that? Top me!

Haha....First Ladies Man....lol...perfect!

Paraphenalia

Look what arrived in the mail box today! Remember several posts ago when I was sick on the sofa, feeling sorry for myself with a terrible cold? I bought myself a pin off an etsty seller from the U.K., named Paraphenalia. I love this pin, and it finally arrived today. Happy belated birthday to me!

Just wanted to show it to you ...this vintage lady has a large, fish hat. Isn't she beautiful?