Spring Cleaning

 by Shinazy

     I’m a city girl surrounded by distractions.  When I want to go out to eat, I just step out the door and within a half a mile - I can eat the food of any nation on the planet.  If I want to see a movie, I just check Fandango and within a 10-minute drive, I can watch any film.  There are plays, musicals, comedies, and lectures.  I’m always entertained.

     This weekend I’m in the country, or I should say COUNTRY.  There’s no movie house.  Tonight, a Friday night - date night – the area’s one non-American cuisine restaurant has six customers (including my aunt and me) and the only gas station stopped accepting credit cards last year. 

     The background dim of the big city is absent, no traffic noise, no airplane flyovers.  The other main distractions are also missing … no internet access and my smartphone decides to go unplugged as well.

     It’s raining.  The only sound reaching my ears are the drops hitting the gutter with such force that I first thought I was hearing gunshots.  If the weather were dryer and warmer, I’d be out on the lake or hiking in the hills.  But it’s hailing and frosty causing me to feel a bit wimpy, so I stay inside and visit with my aunt.  

     Aunt Judy owns a museum size art-glass collection.  These colorful, transparent objects sit on glass shelves in deep glass windows - big open spaces with no definition between inside and outside.  There are so many pieces the windows appear as though they were made of stained glass.  Today the art has a grayish haze about them – is it the reflection of the rainy sky? 
    
 The house has gone through winter, sealed tight to protect her from the damp chill.  The pellet stoves roar all day and night exhaling warm breath.  It’s a house ready for spring cleaning and I have nothing else to do.
    
  I’m afraid to touch these pieces – fragile and unforgiving, one wrong move in the sink and I’ll have a pile of worthless glass confetti.  One by one, each piece gets a bath and emerges … sparklingly beautiful.  With Windex in one hand and newspaper in the other, I attack the shelves, the windows – inside and out.  The cleaning has my full attention, no distractions. 

     The sun just broke through the clouds and houses across the lake are glowing silver.  There’s no longer smog hovering on the surface of one piece of glass.  I found this activity enjoyable because, unlike my work, at the end of the day, when I’m finished doing all I can do, I can see the results of my effort – spotless, transparent, pristine, gleaming glass. 

     I think I’ll go home and spring clean . . .  Everything.

photo by fdecomite & ellenm1

Easter Nest

by Shinazy

     My mother loves the pageantry of holidays and celebrates with couture-runway flair.  In my youth, when Easter approached, she would start the search for the next new outfit; for me it was time for another magical visit to the ancestral homestead in Colma.

     Every year when the daffodil emerged from the dirt, I knew we would soon be shopping for the perfect dresses, bonnets, gloves, and shoes.  My two younger sisters and I – life size ‘Russian-nesting-dolls’ – would wait, hands folded in our laps, while shop ladies scurried about to find three identical suitable Easter dresses. 

     Although we did this every year, I only remember wishing that this year’s frock would be long enough to cover the scabs and bruises on my tomboy knees.  These shopping trips ended with the purchase of black patent leather strapped shoes called Mary Jane.  (I secretly called my shoes Sally, in honor of my former imaginary friend who moved away once my sisters were old enough for me to boss – but that’s another story.)

     The purpose of these outfits was that we looked stylish for the Easter Parade, the annual spring photo shoot at my grandmother’s – Pauline, aka Gigs. 

     Before I was born, Uncle George decided that Easter needed more than just baskets and eggs sitting on the dining room table.  One year he returned from the yard with an armful of weeds that he lovingly arranged on the table; this was the start of my family’s Easter Nest.  When my generation increased in size, the nest moved to the front porch, where Aunt Judy decorated it with daffodils.

     Every year, my sisters, brother, cousins, and I would stand in single file waiting for Gigs to adjust the focus and light meter on her cameras.  We would then parade past the Easter Nest, then pose around the nest, then pose with our baskets, then pose, and pose.  These movies and photos memorialize a tradition - a time in a family’s history.

     When my daughter was old enough to understand that the Easter Bunny delivered sugary goods and multi-colored eggs, I continued the Easter Nest custom, sans, the clothes shopping excursion.  We lived in an apartment and had no lawn to mow or weeds to pull for the supply of nest building material; so coworkers would provide garage bags filled with freshly cut green clippings.  The front door landing became the site for our first Easter Nest.  Some of my favorite holiday pictures of my daughter and son are the Easter Nest photos.

     The Shinazy clan has produced another generation of wide-eyed cherub faces to smile at the wonder of the Easter Nest.  Although we no longer live within 20 miles of each other, continuing the tradition keeps the family connected and our stories carry on. 

photo by somewhereintheworldtoday & feeliz

Rules of the Road

This story written by Patti Isaacs

In the early 1980s, China had just opened to the West but was still emphatically communist.  People dressed in nearly identical Mao jackets and called each other “comrade.”  Food shortages were common, a radio was a luxury, and bicycles transported the masses.  Curtained limousines with white-gloved drivers were the privilege of a few highly-ranked officials.  The locals stopped to stare, open-mouthed, when one passed by.

     At that time, I lived in the ancient Chinese capital of Xi’an, known for the army of terracotta soldiers unearthed there only six years earlier.  I returned in late 2005 to find a metropolis with skyscrapers and a high-tech zones surrounded by freeways.  In a quarter century, apartment building have replaced the traditional courtyard homes inside Xi’an’s city wall; Audis and Hyundais cruise roads once traveled by donkey carts and the occasional commune truck.  Bicycle traffic is down now that capitalism is up.

     Experiencing a city by foot, bicycle, taxi, and bus provides a glimpse of the social and cultural differences that separate China from the West.  To Western eyes, traffic in China appears utterly chaotic.  Drivers run red lights and turn in front of oncoming cars, pedestrians blithely step in front of trucks, a bicyclist hogs the center lane while glancing over his shoulder to deliver a withering look to the guy behind the wheel of a dump truck.

     In the twenty-first century, The Chinese still follow patterns of movement established when most transportation was human- or donkey-powered.  Never big on queuing, they don't so much drive in their lanes as they jostle to fill any available space.  Released from the constraints of enforced egalitarianism, the few who can now afford cars cheerfully lord it over those who can’t, squeezing cyclists against the curb and nearly clipping pedestrians who brave the crosswalks.  Motorists unapologetically occupy a place in the pecking order that used to be reserved for the most well-placed Party operatives.

     Driving in China involves many games of chicken followed by a series of dances.  Drivers, cyclists, and pedestrians constantly eye and evaluate each other, but like bighorn sheep who establish dominance by butting heads, they usually avoid the carnage of a fight to the death.  Instead, once it’s been decided who leads, they arrange themselves, with the flawless timing of Peking Opera acrobats, into a flowing, interwoven pattern.  Their feet hover the brake pedals even as they try to outrun every other motorist on the road to reach the spot they want.

     If Americans tried this, we would surely kill each other.  We are a society of laws and not men, intent on following the rulebook.  And too many of us are certain we are the one who should be leading the dance.

     As addicted as they are to their cell phones, few Chinese use them as they drive.  Nor do they shave, eat, apply makeup, or read the newspaper behind the wheel.  Driving there is serious business.  The Chinese acknowledge that not everyone is up to the task; they know their traffic is fearsome, with a worldwide reputation.

     These days, most locals use bikes only to get around the quiet neighborhood streets.  To venture into the wider city, they prefer the relative safety of a bus or taxi.  So when an American regularly bicycles to downtown Xi’an, her Chinese friends voice their respect—welcome respect, as the expatriate is incompetent at many things in her adopted hometown.

     Maybe because Xi'an now has central heating, email, and supermarkets, the exotic is harder to find.  Getting on a bike, threading into the traffic tapestry, and learning to deliver the obligatory dismissive look carries the rider to a place many people never visit.

This piece is an excerpt from a book Patti is writing about her experiences living in China in 1981 and 2005.  You can read more at her blog, timetravelinchina.wordpress.com

photo by patti

Birthday – A Sharing Tradition

  by Shinazy

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday dear, Linda, Marlene, and Kitty . . . WHAT ?  !!!

     When it came to celebrating our birthdays, my younger sisters and I became triplets.  Our mother altered birth certificates so each of us could enter kindergarten by the birth-date cutoff.  (Why no one questioned this statistical oddity is another story).  Every year three little faces puckered lips and blew.  I never revealed my birthday wish, but I knew it would someday come true because, in the presence of all that wind, every candle was extinguished.  

     My sisters and I were born under the Sagittarius sun sign - with Christmas only a few weeks away.  As each birthday passed, I closed-in on that wished-for December date - my true, single-birth day.  A birthday where I was the center of attention…no sharing.  I’d be the only birthday girl smiling for the flash bulbs and the cake would appear decorated with one name . . . mine.

     The first time my wish came true was on my 30^th birthday . . .  Yeah . . . Great.  I was 30, the age-defining split second of becoming a member of The Establishment.  It was official; I joined the You-Can’t-Trust-Anyone-Over-30 crowd.  For three decades, I imagined a joyous celebration of my very existence, instead, I was blinded by candles commemorating that I was OLD.

     As the other hallmark birthdays passed: 4oh, 5oh, 6oh, I shared the occasions with other Sagittarians, while imagining a celebration, which became more elaborate.  The great thing about imagination is everything is possible.  One year I invented a party at the North Pole where the aurora borealis was my personal candle light.  Even in this fantasy, when it came to candle-blowing time, I wished that next year the deep exhale would extinguish real flames.

     A few Decembers ago, I decided to combine my birthday with my honey’s, who was born in February.  The perfect gift was for us to go away for the weekend and experience something new – births are new, birthdays should be new.  Off we went to overnight in the lighthouse on East Brother’s Island.  We’ve repeated sharing our birthdays every February, staying at a different lighthouse.  This February as we drove to the Point Sur Lighthouse, my sweetee turned to me and said, “Here you are again, sharing your birthday.” 

     Yes, Sharing … The best way to celebrate a birthday.

photo by Aih

TECH Thursday: Google Privacy – How to Remove Google Web Data History

  by Shinazy

Today Google has one Privacy Policy and now all the info Google gathers on us from various Google products and services, e.g. gmail, google+, google docs, YouTube, Picasa, will be in one place.

Although we are unable to eliminate the Google eye-in-the-sky, by removing Google Web Data History  we can limit some of the data that’s gathered.

Here’s what I did yesterday:

• I signed into one of my Google accounts – gmail
• In the upper right corner, I clicked on my photo (or avatar)
• In the menu that appeared, click on “Account settings”
• Scroll down to ‘Services”
• To the right of ‘View, enable, or disable web history”, click “Go to web history”
• Enter your Password
• If you see your web history listed, then near the top of the page, click the gray area titled “Remove all Web History”
• Click ‘OK’

All your web history should be gone!  And, near the top of the page, you should see “Web History is paused,” which means your web history will no longer be tracked.

You can reverse your decision by clicking the blue box titled ‘Resume’

I’ll keep you posted if I uncover more ways to shade our personal information from the all-knowing Google.

photo by courosa

Pauline Shinazy, Artist

This story was written by Charles Blim       http://vasefinder.com/

In 2003, I received an email from Pauline Shinazy's granddaughter stating I was the only site on the web referencing her grandmother.  From my research, I showed Pauline exhibiting primarily in the San Francisco Bay Area. 

One of the exhibitions, where I discovered her name was at the prestigious 1956 Association of San Francisco Potters, held at the de Young Museum.  A few months after this initial contact with Pauline's granddaughter, we conducted this interview to explore her grandmother's interesting history, as a member of the American Studio Pottery Movement.

Pauline Shinazy came from a lineage of strong women.  Her grandmother left Paris, with no knowledge of the English language, to stake her claim in America.  It is no wonder that Pauline inherited these ideals of a liberated woman in a non-liberated era.  Pauline was born in 1900 in an area outside of San Francisco.  In 1910, after the family home was lost in a fire, Pauline's mother and aunt with the assistance of a handyman rebuilt their home. The main home had the craftsman or bungalow style, but over the generations, as the family grew, it was expanded, again and again.  It is uncertain when Pauline first decided to create, but her first medium of choice was oil painting.  In the mid-1930's, an unfortunate family accident led to Pauline's studio being destroyed.  From this accident, she moved to the medium of pottery.

Pauline never formally studied pottery-making at an art school, and like many of potters from the Movement, she experimented in the medium to reach very desirable results.  To create pottery, Pauline built a shed, where she kept a couple wheels of differing sizes and the necessary inputs to produce ceramic art.  She also mixed her own glazes.  Her pots were primarily functional in nature, and her granddaughter recalls using them for everyday life.  The family is uncertain of the output created by Pauline, and her work should be considered rare because she was not a production potter. 

Unless Pauline was going to a social event, she always wore trousers.  Although a very sociable person, Pauline typically only shared her process of creating with her family.  With six grandchildren, Pauline stirred the creative spirit in each of them and from speaking with her granddaughter; this spirit is as fiery as the day when it was introduced by Pauline many years ago.

She was a person who was always working with her hands. Pauline created pottery until the early 1960's, when she progressed into the medium of jewelry making.  She then ceased to create pottery.  She constructed a new addition to her pottery shed to separate her jewelry making from everything else.  It was this progression and dedication from medium to medium, which appears to be a common theme in her design. 

Although there was a period, where her work showed Native American influence, she created from a "sphere of vision," where her design represented a unique meandering of her translation from objects in nature and everyday life.  The jewelry making was particularly memorable for her granddaughter because of the interesting hunts for different stones in California and Nevada.  The trips to Lovelock, Nevada were especially poignant because they searched for a particular stone indigenous to this area of the Silver state.

It’s not only the quality of the art but also the quality of the person I have come to know from this interview.  For me, an artist that moves from medium to medium with a very smooth shift of the gears is what I consider a desirable and rare trait of a great artist. 

As a pottery collector, I feel lucky, that Pauline chose the medium of pottery at one point to express her creative will.  I know when I discover the first Shinazy signed ceramic piece for my collection that it will not only be a quality find, but a tangible sense of the magic she created.

http://vasefinder.com/

Charlie B. Gallery

200 E. Main St., Fernley, NV 

775.575.7333

Editing & photo by Shinazy

Wonder Woman

    by Shinazy

Bummer . . . I thought I was Wonder Woman.

I come from a long line of Wonder Women, so of course I have this picture of myself.

The first Wonder Woman in my family was my great, great, grandmother, Julie Robinet.  As a single-young gal, she sailed to San Francisco from France.  She spoke no English; she knew no one.  She only knew there was opportunity in the post gold-rush-boom town and she was going to seize it.  A few years later, she was able to purchase acreage just outside the city limits.

Her daughters were born on that property.  As young adults, they built – hammered and nailed -- a two-story Craftsman style home.  They were two French lady-farmers living among Portuguese ranchers.  One of the daughters, my great-grandmother Julia Chaine, was a single parent, raising two daughters because she had banished their rowdy Irish father.  She instilled in her girls the same Wonder Woman spirit she gained from her mom.

Pauline (Gigs) Shinazy, the eldest daughter, my grandmother, was a Renaissance Wonder Woman.  She knew she was invincible and could conquer anything she encountered.  She was an accomplished painter until my father accidentally burned down her studio.  So, instead of crying she became a Studio Potter, making all the family’s dishes and vases until her hands worn out.  She made my poodle skirts from drapery material – thank you, Scarlet O’Hara.  Gigs made jewelry, faceted gems, grew prize-winning dahlias, canned fruit, camped in the desert, rode horses.  She explored various religions as they entered the mainstream.  When she converted to Judaism, she went to Israel during the Six-Day War and broke her arm taking pictures of Russian tanks that “…weren’t there!”  

Like her mother told her, she told me, “You can do anything, be any one.”  So, I decided that I, too, would be a Wonder Woman.

But, unlike the comics, sometimes Wonder Woman needs to reassess her conquering strategy. 

Can I really continue to fight evil forces, improve my Amazonian martial arts skills, be a supportive partner, run a business, hold my breath in Space, volunteer, write for BOBB, train for my last marathon, stop bullets with my bracelets, climb Half Dome, learn to scuba…?

Yes, Wonder Women are endowed with extraordinary strength, speed, and stamina but . . .   

Yesterday, this WW had to make a decision -- something had to be postponed.  It was a hard choice and I’m still a bit sad, but it was the right choice to make.  And I know I’ll feel better, soon.

Ok, I’ll be satisfied to be wonder woman . . . for a while.  Hey, I think it’s time for my Lasso of Truth lesson.

photo by rdeetz

TECH Thursday: How to Change your Facebook Cover Photo

     by Shinazy

Two weeks ago in the Tech Thursday story titled, Facebook Timeline Is Coming, I mentioned that my favorite word related to the Facebook Timeline was the word HOVER.

To create or change your Timeline Cover Photo - the big picture that splashes across the top of your page - you must HOVER in the area where the Cover Photo would appear.

• In the Cover Photo area you will see above the  Update Info Activity Log  a box that reads  Change Cover
• Click on the upside down triangle 
• You will then see
• 

• If you select  Choose From Photos, these are pictures you previously posted on Facebook  

OR

• You can select  Upload Photo, which should take you to where you saved all your pictures on your computer

Once you selected / uploaded the picture you want for your Cover Photo you can move your photo Up and Down to position how you want it to appear to your friends.

• Put your curser on your Cover Picture and hold down your mouse button, then move your mouse up and down, your Cover Picture should move

• Then click   Save Changes

Voila !    You now have a great big photo displayed on your Facebook Timeline.

Have fun with this feature.  I change my Cover Photo to match the picture used with each BOBB story.  So, if you watch my Facebook Timeline Cover Photo it will let you know a new story has been published on Bitchin’ Ol’ Boomer Babe  http://bobbblogg.blogspot.com/

Let me know if you need help with any of the Facebook Timeline features; I'm here to help.

photo by stoneysteiner

Botox ‘n Duct Tape

  by Shinazy

Granddaddy was a practical and handy guy.  He believed there’s a simple solution to every problem and he applied his philosophy to repairing everything.  Even his gifts represented his viewpoint. 

When I graduated from high school he gave me a toolbox that contained his favorite tools: hammer, flathead and Phillips screwdrivers, and a roll of duct tape.  

He told me that the tape would become indispensible.  At age 17, I thanked him with a smile and when I turned my back, the first of many frowns appeared on my then uncreased, pre-botox forehead.

As the years passed, I carried duct tape everywhere – there is a roll in my car, a roll in my office desk, and another roll in my first aid kit.  It is at the top of my “Things To Pack” when I traveled.  I was thrilled when 3M released duct tape in colors so that some of my repairs could appear ‘fashionable’.  Duct tape is always within reach, so that I can mend the many worn and broken parts of my life.  Yes, duct tape will only patch my worn and broken stuff; the things that make me mad / sad are beyond duct tape’s effective adhesive ability.

And it‘s these mad-sad experiences, these unrepairable events that cause me to clinch my teeth, or droop the corners of my mouth – with the accompanying squeezing of my eyebrows.  When one is a Boomer, one has had decades of eyebrow squeezing resulting in an ever deepening cavern, otherwise known as a Frown Line.  (Here at BOBB we seem to be fixated on eyebrows, so it is no surprise that frown lines would eventually be addressed.)

Now, Granddaddy would not approve of the current remedy for frown lines – Botox – a neurotoxin botulism bacterium protein.  And, I would never tell him that I went for a Botox injection only to discover I’m Botox resistant, not just BXT-A, but also BXT-B.  Oh, joy!  I had no way to iron my frown lines.  When faced with a challenge I’m intrepid.  So, I tried Frownies that “Reverse the signs of aging – naturally!” skin smoother.  I was unable to get that little triangle to stay put, especially the pointy corners.  But they were sticky.  Ah, ha, sticky, what else is sticky?  Tape!  So, I tried Scotch Tape.  But it stuck to my pillowcase and hair better than my frown line. 

There is one final countermeasure – Duct Tape.  I have yet to try it, but I know Granddaddy would be proud that I’m thinking of applying his repair principal and he was right, Duct Tape is indispensable.

photo by Jim J

One only needs two tools in life: WD-40 to make things go, and duct tape to make them stop." ~ G. Weilacher

www.frownies.com

TECH Thursday: Facebook Timeline Is Coming

by Shinazy

Yes, it’s coming.  


We may not like it, but over the next few weeks it will arrive.   


It is Facebook Timeline and when you decide you like it, it will function as your personal ‘website’.  


To get a head start, I changed to Timeline and went through the Help Center, step-by-step. Below are my notes:


Our ‘TIMELINE’ is just to the LEFT of the listing of our friends

• Hover over – this is an important action.  In order to do many things in Facebook’s Timeline, I needed  to Hover over something to see what I was looking for.  So, remember, when frustrated, Hover over items.
• To Hide A Story

o   Hover over the story and click ‘Hide from Timeline’.  The story will stay in your ‘Activity Log’ which only you can see, or

o   Click ‘Delete Post’ and it is gone forever !

• To Add A Story

o   On the left side of the screen, you will see this

  

o   Click the type of thing you want to add:  a Status, Photo, Place, Life Event

o   Write what you want to say

o   Using the 3 tiny icons at the bottom left, you can Tag a Friend, Pick a Date for the story, and/or Add a Location

o   Decide who can see your story

§   IMPORTANT !!  Life Events are Public until you change the ‘Audience’

• To Change the Privacy Setting on this story

o   Click the upside down triangle to the left of the word Post, a drop down menu will appear.  Now you can select Public, or Friends, or Only Me

• To Change the Privacy Setting on ALL your post

o   I recommend you go to the Help Center.  (You cannot undo your change and I’d rather you hear it from / hold Facebook accountable if something goes amiss.)

• To see what your Timeline looks like to others

o   Find this     it is to the left of your Timeline

o   Click on the upside down triangle and click on ‘View As’

o   You can also type in the name of a friend

• Cover Photo

o   I had no trouble loading my new picture from my computer

o   I can change it any time I want.

• Privacy

o   Go to “Home” (upper right corner), click on the upside down triangle, --> Privacy Settings

§  See “How Tags Work”, click on “Edit Settings” --> change “Maximum Timeline Visibility” from “Public” to “Friends” --> Done

§  To change all past posts from “Public” to “Friends only”:  Go to “Limit the Audience for Past Posts,” click “Manage Past Post Visibility”
      --> Read ALL the words, then decide what you really want to do.

My opinion of the Facebook Timeline: 

• Yes, it looks different and it will take me awhile to know automatically where to look.
• It’s easier to jump to the past via the Timeline slide bar. 
• I like that I am able to ‘Edit Thumbnail’ and ‘Scale it [to] fit’.
• Via the ‘Activity Log”, I like that I can control what’s on my page and in my Timeline.  And of course, I starred all the Bitchin’ Ol’ Boomer Babe postings.
• I need to remember to HOVER.
• I’m still unsure about how the post from my friends will look in Timeline and how easy it will be for me to comment.
• It’s great that the Facebook Timeline lets me post stuff to the past.
• The Help Center is helpful.

Let me know if you are having difficulty with any of the Facebook Timeline changes and I’ll help you and post the answer here in BOBB, so we can all learn.

Good Luck to us all !

   photo by Danja

Caring For The Skin I'm In

by Shinazy

I decided to come here.  I’ve been coming here every 5 weeks for 20 years.  Even when I was unemployed I came here.  During those lean months, I terminated my cable TV, walked rather than drove, removed any unnecessary expense so I could continue to come here.

Today, just like every other time before, I lay on a bed that contours my body . . . a bed of jumbo cotton balls.  The room is painted in a green that bears the undertones of everything in nature.  The ceiling is the color of the sky at the horizon and there’s a dome painted an enveloping shade of blue; it’s dotted with tiny LED lit holes.  I’m reminded of dusk in Tahoe after the last spring snowstorm.  As I stare into the ethereal sky, I see constellations, never the same ones, and maybe only imaged ones.  It’s easy to breathe. . .  I feel I’ve always been here, and during these 90 minutes, I’m disconnected from everything.

I’m also here so that Liza can renovate my skin.  She is a beauty alchemist, a master aesthetician.  Liza applies masks, serums, mists, creams, and uses the latest technology in skin care.  She removes boulders when I’ve been in the desert for weeks, peels layers of residue from gallons of sunscreen and sweat when I train for a marathon, evens my skin tone after days of mid-summer solar exposure.  I emerge restored. 

Skin care is part of my family’s DNA.  My grandmother was a Noxzema Girl.  She toted the cobalt blue jar everywhere.  During our annual Buck’s Lake vacation, she would even smear Noxzema onto the face of her favorite stable horse, who had a skin condition.  By the end of our stay, the horse’s skin was radiant, just like my grandmother’s.

My mom used Pond’s Cold Cream – “an evolution to skin care.”  I remember her using it to clean her face in the morning, laying the foundation for her “paint,” and removing the make-up at night.  She always receives complements on her skin – claiming it is all due to her dedication to her skin care routine and Pond’s.

Does all this attention to skin care make us appear younger?  Well, my grandmother always appeared old, because she was . . .  my grandmother.  My mom never appears old, because she is an accomplished make-up artist.  I appear - my age.  So, why all this devotion to our skin?  Why do I continue to come here?

I like clean skin.  I want my skin to reflect my good inside health on the outside.  And, when I look you in the eye, your eyes see just that . . . great skin.

Thank you Liza!  I’ll see you in 5 weeks.

- - - - - - -

You can find Liza at www.eliteskincare.com

photo by Craighton Miller  http://craighton.me/

FOLLOWER Friday: Ode to Bobbi’s Eyebrows

  This was written by Roberta ‘Bobbi’ Rankin

Yo, eyebrows where have you gone? 

I see less and less of you every day 

You let me down

You betrayed me

I have a few words for you...... 

In my youth you were strong,

Arched and nicely dark brown. 

You were the envy of my friends

So easy to care for, too. 

I could wink and flirt with confidence

Having the fullness of the perfect brows.
Today, I must color you when I color my hair

I’ve become a slave to my eyebrow pencil. 

Oh, too much pencil color or too little?

This becoming the ongoing morning battle.
Now, more than ever as age begins

To try and take you away,

I need you. 

I need you to be strong

I need you be of color,

To help me face the world

I want you eyebrows to stay the same

And not let me down...

Not disappoint or betray me...

You know what I talkin’ about?

Alas, at this time in my life,

Have I not more fun and important things to do

Than to pour such pity onto myself,

Over eyebrows?

Really?  

I think I do. 

I think I'll put my cap on

Go for a long walk along the lagoon

Enjoy the world

Enjoy my life as it is today. 

I know for a fact that I have today,

Faded eyebrows 

You aren't important any more.

I think I'll save myself this grief

Simply say no more,

About my eyebrow betrayal, that is. 

For as sure as I'm sitting here

I do have more important things to talk about

About  __________________

- - - -

Bobbi departed for her first Hawaiian vacation before she could finish... So, I invite you - How would you complete her ode?  Please post a Comment or email me and I'll post your completion to ‘Ode to Bobbi's Eyebrows’.  Have fun!

    photo by Bobbi