iPhone, iPad, i Give Up!

I finally joined the ranks of the Apple community and bought an iPad. My kids all have them and they were determined to include me in their iWorld. I was assured that it would be easy and “intuitive”. I was so intimidated by the darn thing that I enrolled in an iPad class at the Apple store. Convinced that I would be the stupidest person there, I was delighted to find that there was a guy in our group who had never even turned his on because he wasn’t sure how. I learned a lot and was able to keep up with my family’s online communication pretty well. I actually like the FaceTime thing. It is nice to see the one you are talking to, but I must admit, that except for driver’s license photos, you really can’t look much worse than you do on an iPad screen.

All this technology is really hard for me, but I am like the kid who doesn’t know much about sex and pretends he does so he looks cool. When my son-in-law couldn’t answer a question about how to fix something, he asked me if I had asked Siri. I wondered how Tom Cruise’s daughter could help, but then realized he was saying Siri. Thinking on my feet, I told him “not yet” but assured him I thought it was a good idea. I figured it had something to do with the iPad. So I learned about Siri and although she can be helpful, she really doesn’t have much personality, if you ask me.

My family’s promises of an enriched online existence were actually pretty true. My casino games are amazing on the iPad. I am sold.

Anyway, it wasn’t long before I was talked into buying an iPhone. Members of the Apple cult like everyone to have the same equipment. It’s an OK phone, but does way more than I need. It’s like owning a combination convection/microwave oven that can make anything from a standing rib roast to a chocolate mousse in record time, but you only use it make popcorn and heat up leftovers.

I will admit that having a smartphone makes you look like you are keeping up with the times, so I pretend, but there is one thing that drives me absolutely crazy and gets me into nothing but trouble. I am a texter. Most of the people in my world text me when they have something to tell me. It’s definitely one of the best features of modern communication. But who thought that auto-correct was helpful? My first experience was when I texted my daughter that I was going to the library before our lunch date at noon and advised her that I might be a few minutes late. It wasn’t until she wrote back and asked me what time my flight got in that I realized that my iPhone had corrected library to Liberia. She knew what I meant and it was funny.

Not so funny was my next experience; I texted my friend one afternoon and inquired as to how she was doing? Of all my friends, she is the most conservative. I knew her for years before she ever told me anything personal about herself. To say she is the buttoned up sort is putting it mildly, but we now have a very close though still somewhat reserved relationship. So I texted her and said “Hey, honey… how are you feeling today? The response didn’t come back so I looked to make sure I had sent it. It went through but it was then that I noticed that auto-correct had changed it to “Hey homey…” There isn’t a person on earth who is LESS gangsta than Joan. I explained what had happened and I think she understood.

Ever since then, I read and re-read what I send. That damn auto-correct has a mind of its own. It victimizes innocent people and puts relationships at risk every day of the world. I can prove it! There are entire websites dedicated to the problems that people encounter because auto-correct decides that it knows what you want to say better than you do. Read on...


Exhibit A

“OK, Mom... I will see you Sunday and I’m bringing drugs.”
“Like HELL you are! Don’t even think about bringing drugs into this house!”
Relax, Mom... it was auto-correct's fault. I meant to say I am bringing Doug.”

Exhibit B

“Thanks again for an amazing first date :).”
“Thank YOU! So when would you like to go out on our second date? I can’t wait to see those beautiful nipples of yours!”
“I am so sorry! I meant dimples! I hate auto-correct. I am now going to jump off a bridge! Goodnight.”

Exhibit C

“I will see you at Christmas, darling. By the way, what would you like for your stalking?”
“Hide outside… mostly at night. Use binoculars. Take notes about what I do during the day. Steal things from my garbage can… write me cryptic notes. All that will be good.”

Exhibit D

“Come on over and see what I bought!"
“You went shopping without me? Where?”
“To Macy’s, but then I went crazy in Turban Outfitters!”

Exhibit E

"Honestly, if you were still living here, I would try to date you. You are so sweet, a good friend and so beautiful, but you’re so damn fat! Stupid auto-correct! I meant FAR! You’re too damn far!"


You see what I mean? You can get in some serious trouble when something automated tinkers with what you are trying to say. It’s not like auto-correct does a good job of it! If it made me look more competent or smarter, it would be a valid feature, but there is way too much guesswork going on here. I have no problem with being corrected, but let it be from some place where they know what they are doing. Auto-correct does much more harm than good and causes nothing but mayhem and foolishness.

Anyway, I come from the era of the original, authentic auto-correct. A time when if incorrect things came out of your mouth, the real auto-correct would let you know immediately that you were wrong. It was called MOM.


Identity Crisis

I have now been divorced for 7 years and I have this burning desire to change my last name. I don’t think I want to get married again, so this is something I have to choose to do. I kept my ex-husband’s name because my girls carried that name, but now they are all married, so I am the only one who still uses my ex’s family name. It doesn’t suit me anymore. I have moved on but I am in a quandary as to what to do.

I started doing a little research on famous people who had changed their names. They wanted to become stars and so do I, just on a much smaller scale. It would feel good to reinvent myself a bit. Once I started reading up on what celebrities changed their names to, I realized that I have only one chance to do this right. I have to decide on what suits me best for my life going forward. If I get to choose a new last name, let it be something that rolls off the tongue and people will remember.

So, in the course of my name investigation, I had a lot of fun. It made me laugh to imagine using the person’s real name instead of their stage name in association with the things they were famous for. As an example, I have always thought that Jane Seymour was such a beautiful woman. Her petite frame, her gorgeous “romance novel” long hair and her delicate English accent made her stand out from so many other actresses. Imagine if she had depended only on her stunning attributes to carry her to fame. Would she have ever gone on to Dr.Quinn, Medicine Woman or even Dancing with the Stars if she had remained Joyce Penelope Frankenberg?

Can you fathom a badass movie like Diehard with a star named Walter Willis? Good move Bruce. And I wonder if Coco would have been as attracted to Ice-T if she met him as Tracy Marrow? It’s pretty cool to have a husband named “Ice”, no pun intended. I like to think about her asking him to bring her a glass of lemonade with extra ice… how sexy. Names can be very powerful.

Even if you are given a nice sounding name, it doesn’t always have enough “oomph” to get you to the top. Dana Elaine Owens is a lovely name for a pretty lady. Queen Latifah, however, is the bomb. As for comedian Chevy Chase, that’s not his given name. It’s actually Cornelius Chase, which is just about as funny. Did you know that Marie Osmond’s real name is Olive? I really can’t picture a marquis that reads Donny and Olive. Can you?

Some famous people start out with great names but have to change them because other famous people have already used them. Singer Katy Perry’s real name is Katherine “Kate” Hudson. Goldie Hawn’s daughter made a change necessary. Comedian/actor Albert Brooks had a great original name... Albert Einstein. He had no choice but to change it. And actor Michael Keaton should have been born a bit earlier if he wanted to keep his real name, Michael Douglas.

I never knew that so many singers changed their names and it’s been going on for a long time. Eleanora Fagan must have known she was going to be legend. And Billie Holiday certainly is. Barry Manilow just couldn’t see Barry Pincus in neon lights. I agree with his decision. The name Gordon Sumner sounds like an accountant. Sting is much sexier. Would a man named Reginald Kenneth Dwight wow you as much as a man named Elton John? I think not.

Even though I am only thinking of changing my last name, I do like the impact that people make with just being known by one name. Elvis, Aretha, Madonna, Cher, Liberace, Demi and Bono… all are instantly recognized by the world. To be honest, I think I might go with the one name concept. It gives me instant recognition in my world and that’s pretty amazing. It should work out great. Everyone who doesn’t call me Fifi calls me Sister, Mom, Honey, or Baby. Yep, watch out, Elvis, Aretha, Madonna, Cher, Liberace, Demi and Bono… I’m comin’ in!


To My Darling Readers

There won’t be an article this week. I wish I had a brilliant excuse like I have been called to the White House to help solve pressing national problems or that I am on the list to be a kidney donor and I got the call that I was a match. I am sad to say that there is nothing so impressive or noble associated with the reason I couldn’t get it together and write something for my precious and loyal readers.

Although I am pretty good at multi-tasking, this week just kicked my butt and I ran out of time. I don’t believe in excuses, but mine are pretty fantastic, so please indulge me.

First, I had 2 charming house guests from Belgium stay with me this week. These two adorable young men were on a three week whirlwind trip through California, Arizona and Utah. Seven years ago, one of them worked here at LoveFifi on an apprenticeship through his college in Europe. When he left to go home, I told him that if he ever came to California again, he was more than welcome to stay with me. I was thrilled to be house mother to these charming lads. I put everything else aside to make sure they had a great time in my city.

Then life got more complicated because my sister was scheduled to have her first colonoscopy this past Tuesday. I think you know by now she is not only my sister, but my trusted assistant. I was at work all alone on Monday and it was Hell for me trying to do both of our jobs. Actually, it could have been worse because I had quite a time convincing her that prepping for her procedure the day before at the office is not really do-able. I was already running behind for the week, but on Tuesday I was Sister’s official driver to and from the hospital. Nothing shoots a good Tuesday like a colonoscopy, even if it’s not your own.

On Wednesday I needed to act like the CEO person that it says I am on our letterhead and my business cards. We were having a "big all-company” meeting on Friday and I had a ton of analyzing to do to get ready so I could look smart in front of the partners and staff. By Thursday I was so over-my-head frantic with tasks, that I had to make some changes to my schedule and do some heavyweight prioritizing.

I also must mention that I have company coming again over the weekend and my housekeeper of over 20 years retired 3 weeks ago. Yes, I had to clean my own house. I tried to ignore it, but the dust bunnies were getting to be a menacing size and I was starting to have nightmares. My housekeeper was wonderful to me and worked a lot of years. She deserves to enjoy her life. I tried to keep that thought when I was plotting her death while mopping at 11:30 last night.

So it is almost the week’s end and time to be witty. I love writing my articles, but this week I am stressed out and tearing my hair out. If you can believe it, one of my best friends called me out and said I was a bitch. I was quite taken aback and informed her without hesitation that I am not a bitch... I am THE bitch, and don’t forget it.

I feel bad that there is no article to entertain you over coffee this week. I do apologize, my darlings. Life is not without sacrifices and I believe that my decision to forgo writing an article was the right thing to do for my mental health. I also found the courage to cancel my massage and Aqua Lift Facial, which actually would have taken the same amount of time as accompanying my sister to her colon photo shoot, but I am not complaining. Being unselfish comes naturally to me. Who needs to be rubbed with hot stones and have her tired face uplifted and refreshed? Not me.

Until Next Week,


Contact Information

I grew up in a very loving family that believed in hugs and kisses. My mother's arms around me, or my dad's pats on the head or playful tickles always told me I was loved. My family was very demonstrative and I am very grateful that I grew up in that kind of environment.

I recently went to say goodbye to a dear friend and realized halfway through our hug that this was not something she did very often. It was not an uncomfortable experience, but it made me think long and hard about how lucky I am and how much she had probably missed in life. I am a hugger and proud of it.

I believe in the power of touch so devoutly. It transmits wordless messages that say so much. For example, people have been shaking hands to introduce themselves for eons. Have you ever heard someone comment about a handshake they just experienced? I have. The comments can range from "firm and genuine" to "wimpy and limp". A message from human to human was sent in a matter of seconds that conveyed a message that might ultimately affect a relationship. For me personally, when a man shakes my hand and then places his left hand over mine so that my hand is sheltered by both of his hands, it tells me that he probably protects the women in his life. I am always impressed and I have to be careful not to swoon. This, of course, is not the litmus test for judging character in a man as I am sure there is probably an ax murderer or two who shake women's hands in this manner, but I do consider this an indication of a gentleman most of the time.

There are so many times that touch has amazing meaning. When I was a kid, my mom would stroke my forehead to soothe me when I was sick in bed with tonsillitis. To this day, you could not convince me that it was not her tender touch that cured me instead of the penicillin.

I am pretty sure that when some of you realized that this article was about touching, that your first thoughts were not about how validated or reassured you feel when your boss pats you on the shoulder for a "job well done", but to the romantic or maybe erotic side of touch. I don't ever want to disappoint, so let's go there. The best first kiss I ever received was when the man looked into my eyes and drew me towards him by very gently caressing the sides of my face until my lips met his. It was gorgeous and is permanently tattooed in my memories. To my gentleman readers out there... you are welcome to use it, but you need to write me a thank you note.

The most electrifyingly sexy thing I ever saw in a movie was in The Age of Innocence. Ladies, if you haven't seen this exquisite period piece, please do. Guys, you should try to watch it with her because it is beautiful and your woman will be very impressed at your sensitivity and artful soul. Granted, it doesn't have any guns, breasts, monsters or car chases, but your lady will be in a very romantic and loving mood when all is said and done. Okay, back to the sexiest scene on film. Daniel-Day Lewis is engaged to Winona Ryder, but he and her married cousin, played by Michelle Pfieffer, have a secret forbidden "thing" for each other. In my favorite scene, All three are at a gathering and there is a receiving line or something where Daniel is sandwiched between his fiancé and his lover in the line. Now remember, this takes place in the late 19th century, so in order to be received, ladies and gentlemen had to remove their gloves to present themselves. As Daniel and Michelle waited their turns, they were able to touch each other's bare hand for a brief, but provocatively explosive second made even more thrilling because of the danger of the fiancé standing so close. Believe me when I tell you that this was more exciting and sexy to me than any totally nude romp could ever be. I'm telling you, touch is everything.

Do you know who REALLY understands the magic of touch? Dogs and cats. Petting their heads, scratching behind their ears and rubbing them from stem to stern are all pure heaven to them. The moment I wake up, my little Beau rolls over on his back for his morning belly rub. This is even BEFORE coffee, so you know how much I love this little guy.

So the next time a friend surprises you with an instantaneous shoulder rub, be grateful for the gift of human touch. If you are not a hugger, get over it. You are missing one of the best things life has to offer.

I think you know me well enough by now to know that I am a big believer in the theory that the most wonderful things in life cannot be bought. However, so there is no confusion, I still believe that people that say that money can't buy happiness don't know where to shop. I'm just saying...


True Love

I want to thank you all for saving me so much angst and a whole lot of money all these years. You allow me to write about whatever is on my mind and often times you help me get through some really tough stuff. Many of you take the time to write to me and give me your two cents. Your two cents are worth a million dollars to me.

Why did I choose today to thank you so profusely? I felt that I needed to let you know how much you, my loyal readers, give to me... and I really need you right now. I had the choice of faking some light-hearted piece of fluff that would have been painful to write or I could tell you why I am hurting, which would also be painful, but honest and genuine.

I think you all know by now that at LoveFifi.com, we bring our dogs to work. There are sometimes more dogs than people. There are dog beds in the warehouse where we pack your orders and in every office where we create the magic. The dogs wander around and nap wherever they please. We take company dog walks in the park next door and the 2 employees who don’t have dogs of their own often take “dog breaks” and spend some time playing and cuddling any one of the doggies. The environment here is amazing for all concerned.

Today I had to go and pick up the ashes of my beloved Babydoll. I had been dreading it for weeks and just could not bring myself to go and collect her remains. I did it today because I knew everyone was in the office and they would support me during the unveiling. I have been a mess for weeks. I miss her so much.

The last weeks have be very sad for me. Babydoll was a character. She was a true diva in every way. She had more clothes than I did. Although those who didn’t know her well thought of her as a prissy dog, she was actually a pretty tough soldier. Five years ago, she was attacked by huge muscular dog who was not on a leash. He tore her nearly in half and if it were not for the efforts of my brilliant veterinarian, she would have died. To this day, Dr. K says that she was the most injured dog he had ever saved. She was in the hospital for over a month and had several operations. She survived, but was really never the same.

The fact that she was persnickety was probably due to me. When I would take her on walks, she would put one paw on the grass and if it were wet, she would draw her paw back and look at me as to say “I don’t DO wet grass, thank you very much”. I always cooked her food. She enjoyed a diet of chicken and brown rice or lamb and cous cous. I warmed it up in the microwave and if I ever tried to save a little time by giving it to her room temperature, I would get this puzzled look and she would walk right into the kitchen and sit in front of the counter where the microwave was.

She always had a “poof” of long hair tied with a ribbon on the top of her head. She was a fashion icon in the dog world. She honestly loved wearing clothes and it worked well because she had a huge scar that went completely around her body. My friends and family delighted in buying her girly girl stuff that included lots of bling. Her collar was solid rhinestones.

A few years ago I adopted a little boy dog that I call Beau, who had been severely abused. He was and is very shy and the polar opposite of an alpha dog. That was Babydoll. She ruled the world. If I gave them each a bone, she would plot and conspire as to how she would steal Beau’s bone when he wasn’t looking. She wanted both bones and Beau always stepped aside for the Queen.

In November, Babydoll’s breathing became very labored. She had a collapsed trachea after the attack which became more and more of a problem as the years passed. She was on shots and meds for years to help her breathe. Her abdomen had ballooned to an enormous size and the vet said it was because she was taking in air trying to breathe. He kept her for 5 days and then called me in. He felt that it was time to start thinking about putting her down. I couldn’t bear the thought of not bringing her home for at least a little while. It really wasn’t for me, but for her. She had spent 5 days in a cement cell without her family and I knew I could medicate her and care for her and keep her comfortable. Because my vet has known me for over 25 years and because he is very attached to Babydoll, he agreed.

As soon as she got her home she was really happy. She slept a lot, ate well and continued to torture her brother, despite the fact that she had trouble keeping her balance and was weak. We got through Christmas and she continued to come to work with me. I watched her constantly to make sure she wasn’t gasping for breath or uncomfortable.

Towards the end of January, over a weekend, she didn’t want me out of her site. She just wanted to feel my touch and sleep next to me. I cut off her poof so I could pet her head gently as often as possible. I carried her around in a papoose–type dog carrier so she could be close to me. On January 25th, she stopped eating and drinking and I knew it was time. I called my vet at home and he met me at his office late at night. I held her while she went to heaven. I had arranged for her cremation and urn weeks before, so all that was left was to kiss Babydoll for the last time and hug my precious vet.

It took me a whole month to go and collect her urn, but I did it today. I brought it back to the office and my dear ones at work opened the box. I had her ashes put inside a rock that goes in the garden. It was the perfect place for her because she loved to bask in the sun on my patio like the movie star she was.

For those of you who are not animal lovers, you probably stopped reading this article paragraphs ago. For those of you who understand, I know you are feeling me right now. I am trying really hard to concentrate only on the joy and smiles she brought into my life. The sadness of her absence is heart-wrenching at times, but the change in Beau keeps me focused. He stopped eating for a few days when she didn’t come home, but after a while he realized that he was getting all my attention. He’s liking it big time.

If you have read this far, I thank you for sticking with me through this whole thing. I was not feeling funny today. For all of you out there who are pet owners, please give Rocky, or Sophie, or Bruiser an extra dose of love today in Babydoll’s memory. And thank you again for helping me get through a sad time by allowing me to write about it. I am grateful for every time she wagged her tail when I asked her, “Who is the cutest dog in the world?”. I never really minded it when I stepped on one of her squeaky toys in the dark and scared myself. I am thankful for all the help she gave me licking my ankles dry when I got out of the shower. It surely saved me lots of time in the morning. I cherish all the times she made me laugh at her antics and all the times she fell asleep in my arms.

When life is hard, I often find strength in the words of the great philosophers. Today is no exception.

“Don’t cry because it’s over... Smile because it happened.” - Ted Geisel (Dr. Seuss)


Love And War

Sometimes people write to me and ask if I am REAL and if I actually write these columns and answer your questions myself. I have to laugh. I can’t even get my kids do their chores without nagging them, so it is unlikely that I could talk someone into writing a column for me. Of course, I am REAL. And you would know just how real if you had been here yesterday.

I love getting letters from my readers. I feel like I am the luckiest girl in the world because I get to know you through your words, just as you get to know me though mine. In this crazy fast-paced world, where people conduct their whole lives on cell phones, eat over the sink so they do not to make dirty dishes and drive-thru everything from the bank to their house of worship, I am flattered when you take the time to email me. I keep every one of your letters, by the way, even that mean one from the guy in New Jersey who told me that leopard print is OUT and that I use too much of it on the site. He is wrong, of course, and I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. However, I am still not over the hurt of it all, but my therapist is helping me greatly.

Anyway, back to yesterday. I was going through this week’s reader mail, when I came upon a letter that took my breath away. With every word that I read, my heart thumped loudly and my eyes filled with tears. Incredible warmth came over my whole body. I just sat at my computer and cried. I cannot ever remember being so completely touched. I could tell you all about this fabulous letter, but better yet, why don’t I let you read it.

Hello Ms. Fifi,
I just had to write to tell you thank you for the wonderful lingerie you have sent. The quality is top notch, better in fact than many very expensive designer boutiques. I love the service I receive and have decided that I will entrust you with all my lingerie and delicates needs from now on. My husband is serving in the desert right now so I sent him your site address. He calls once every two weeks or so and one of the first things he says after I love you is "This is what I want you to get from Fifi's this time...” I get to shop and he gets to look forward to coming home to a whole new wardrobe of beautiful little things for me to model for him. I just had to write to tell you thank you. It is hard to miss him so much but now I'm not as depressed because I have a mission while he is gone. My mission is to transform my ordinary Army wife, middle aged self into a beautiful hottie, (for lack of a better modern term). Your lingerie makes me feel beautiful on the outside which makes me feel beautiful on the inside. My personality has changed from just having a ho-hum grin to having a beaming, brilliant smile. Every one has noticed and all I say is thank you and whisper "LOVE FIFI" to them and their wives. There will be a lot of happy soldiers coming home soon and thanks to you they will be returning to very beautiful wives and girlfriends.

Imagine getting to be part of some of the most passionate and intimate moments in people’s lives. We have learned from the many letters of gratitude we get from Military wives, husbands, girlfriends, boyfriends and lovers that the first time couples get to see each other after being apart for so many months and miles is even more spectacular than any wedding night hoped to be. They are celebrating their love, but more than that, they are celebrating keeping alive and returning safely to each others arms. My goose bumps have goose bumps.

I know that many of our troops have come home, but many more are still in places like Afghanistan. Saying “thank you for serving” sounds so inadequate. Thank you for risking your lives, living away from the people you love and giving up all your creature comforts seems much more appropriate.

To our military men and women and your spouses, we at LoveFifi.com are so totally honored to be a part of what keeps your dreams alive when you are forced to be apart. But even better than that, to be a part of your homecomings is over-the-moon wonderful. We are so touched and proud.


What's Love Got To Do With It?

Tina Turner asks a good question. Let’s talk about it.

Did you know that we are the only creatures who can laugh…and love? Even though you think your Schnauzer loves you, it’s not the same kind of love that humans experience.

With Valentine’s Day so close, I think we should really examine this LOVE thing. How do we KNOW when we are loved? It’s important to know it when it comes your way.

I was a bit spoiled in the love department when I was a little girl. My mom would do things for me like cut my sandwiches into shapes with cookie cutters so when it was time for lunch, I had a special surprise. She used to make pancakes on Sunday for the family and always made these little teensy weensy pancakes just for me. She called them “dolly” pancakes. And when I would run through the sprinklers in the summertime, she would greet me at the front door with towels right out of the dryer. These were all beautiful acts of love that mean so much to me. I often look up at heaven and thank my mommy for all the things she did to make me feel so special.

When I was 16, my boyfriend gave me his class ring. He was the first love of my life. I wore his big ring on a long chain around my neck so everyone at school would know that I was “TAKEN”. As cool as I looked, the dangling ring bopped me in the forehead every time I bent over. If it hadn’t been for my bangs, the world would have seen that I was too blond to remember to hold the necklace when I bent down. I only ever thought about doing that when the ring bonked me in the head. Love sometimes comes with a price to pay. He said “I love you” all the time, wrote me mushy notes and called me every night. I was sure that he truly loved me until some dumb butt spiked the punch at the Senior Prom and I threw up in the center console of his vintage Thunderbird. He never got over it and we broke up eventually. I seriously questioned boyfriend/girlfriend love for a long time after that.

When I was in college, my boyfriend never TOLD me he loved me. He was a starving student and worked two jobs. When I studied, he would change the LP’s on the stereo so I could concentrate. He stayed up with me many times and helped me cram for tests. I can honestly say that he loved me, but I didn’t appreciate it at the time. I broke up with him when I graduated and broke his heart. Peter, if you are out there, I am so sorry. You deserved better.

As most of you know, assistant is my sister. That makes her my assister, right? Sometimes I get so involved being Fifi that I can’t see straight. She will pop in the office and bring me a cut up piece of fruit or an 8 oz. glass of water. She used to bring me chocolate or chips but those made my butt grow. I still appreciate her sweet effort to please me. She is pretty busy herself, but always thinks of my needs. That’s real love.

Now that I am older I know that true love is not about just saying the words “I Love You” (but I DO still adore how they sound). Real love is not measured in gifts, or extravagances, although an occasional diamond never hurts to drive the point home. Love is better measured in things you do, like when I wake up in the morning to the smell of fresh coffee brewing. Now THAT is love.

So, Tina... what’s love got to do with it?


Until next time.