New Years REVOLUTION!

It’s the week of January 1st, and I have been thinking about the resolutions that I will be making. I am very good at coming up with good ones, I just suck at keeping them.

We all have the best intentions at this time of year. We vow to get thin, stop smoking, not swear, or be on time, save more money, etc. The idea of New Year’s resolutions is really a noble thought, but the timing is so stupid.

Think about it. We just got through a month of holiday craziness and turbo-shopping. We have decorated and wrapped ourselves into a blue funk. And if we did it right (and I can assure you that I did), we have ingested so many calories and fat grams that it would take 10 climbs up Mount Everest to burn them off.

So, do we stand back and take a deep breath after it’s all over? Do we rest and recharge? Do we reflect and relax? Hell NO! We turn our lives upside down and try to change a lifetime of bad habits overnight. I think that the idea of the whole world making New Year’s resolutions at the same time is ridiculous. Too many people trying to turn over a new leaf simultaneously just can’t work. There are just too many resolutions floating around in the universe for a significant number of them to stick. People needn’t be so hard on themselves. Baby steps, you know? Baby steps.

It’s time for a full scale revolt on that whole stupid concept of drastic New Year’s Resolutions. Someone needs to shake up this silly ritual and nobody is better at stirring things up than me, Miss Fifi.

Here’s my plan for what I like to call New Year’s Resolution “LITE”. Forget about “cold turkey”, except for the one that’s in the refrigerator.

If you like the idea of starting fresh on the first day of the year, then make a deal with yourself and make a plan to head in the direction of a desired goal. If you need to stop smoking, then look for some help. Try the patch or find a support group.

If you want to lose weight, you can absolutely count on me for tips on how to combine diet and exercise to slim down. You will, however, have to consult with someone else about how NOT to gain it back.

Now if you need help with being on time, I won’t be much help. I am hopeless. I will be late to my own funeral.

So, my sweet darlings, another year is upon us. Sure, we can all do things a little better or a little smarter, but we can e-a-s-e into it, we don’t have to torture ourselves to reach our goals in one fell swoop.

Now I am working on clearing out my kitchen of any “bad” foods that are still left from Christmas. I have already started. I finished off the pumpkin pie for breakfast and I figure I can polish off the chocolate truffles, the toffee and the European butter cookies by New Years Eve morning.

Happy New Year, my dear readers! 2015 is going to be marvelous.

A Love Letter To Our Troops

When people ask me what I want for Christmas, my standard answer is world peace.

I wish it were that easy.

I have been thinking about what to write in my Christmas message this year, and it wasn’t until the other day that it hit me like a ton of fruitcake. I was in the car, listening to my favorite oldies station and singing at the top of my lungs, when the old Shirelles’ song, “Soldier Boy” came on.

I started thinking about all the American soldiers that are not going to be home for Christmas this year. You know we at LoveFifi have a special soft spot for our men and women in uniform. We do what we can. That’s why we ship all orders to APOs and FPOs for free.

It’s not just that I am a proud American, but I have the honor of helping so many military people select some pretty fantastic lingerie for very special homecomings. It is a true privilege.

Just yesterday, a lovely soldier called from Iraq to order a huge amount of lingerie for his lady. He won’t even be home for 3 months, but the anticipation is obviously keeping him going and maybe even keeping him alive. We told him to be careful and stay safe. It was so great to talk to him and share in the excitement he felt to spoil his girl back in the States.

I grew up on Bob Hope’s Christmas Specials, so I have seen a little bit of how hard it must be to not only fight a war, but to be so alone, especially during times when your family is so important. Everyone who watches television gets caught up in the stories about our soldiers serving abroad, but do we think about and appreciate all they really sacrifice for us?

Saying “Thank You” to men and women protecting this great nation feels so hollow. I would like to add a big “I’m sorry” to go with that. I am sorry that you won’t be opening gifts with your family. I am sorry that you won’t be tasting your mama’s gravy or sleeping in your own bed for a very long time. I promise you that each and every time I get to do something that could easily be taken for granted, I will think of you with utmost respect and love.

There is more to being brave than most people think about. Yes, you have to be brave to defend our country, but the bravery and unselfishness it takes to give up seeing your baby’s first step, or celebrating your wedding anniversary with the love of your life to serve our nation in time of need, is completely overwhelming to me. I cannot imagine having a child serving in some dangerous, far off place. My daughter went to college 500 miles away in San Francisco and I was nauseous about her safety and well-being most of the time.

Believe me, my sweet readers in the military, I am so grateful for everything you do and so sorry for everything you do without while you are doing your job. I pray for your safety and hope that you will be home soon. You have my support, my love, and my respect. I will be here for you always. Please keep writing to me whenever you can. You must never doubt my profound admiration and gratefulness for all of you.

I have no singing talent whatsoever, but that old Shirelles’ song says it better than I ever could now, although, I had to change it a little because times are different. This one’s for you, my darlings. I’m singing it to you right now... so listen.

"Soldier Boy... and my precious Soldier Girls... I’ll be true to you”.

Merry Christmas.

Lottery Winner

What a week this has been. Last week I wrote about this man I am seeing and asked all of my dear readers to help me. He's a very lovely person, but very serious and under-emotional. I was trying so hard to get to know him and appreciate his mysterious ways, but I was having such a hard time with the way he says things and, in some cases, doesn't say anything at all.

As usual, you guys didn't fail me. I received an overwhelming amount of replies and opinions ranging from gentle to ferocious. I read every one of them and boy... are my eyes wide open now!

I was amazed to see how many of you really "get me" through my writings. I was so impressed that you understood completely that, although I am good at sorting out problems for others, that I was too close to see my situation clearly. That's why I always consult experts when I am out of my area of expertise. Thank you my sweet experts, you done good.

First of all, I was shocked that SO many people that I actually know read my articles. Many of those friends were surprised that I was seeing someone and they didn't know it. I received both letters of congratulations and hate mail asking why I hadn't mentioned him. Goodness gracious, I have only known him a short time. I was trying to figure out this relationship between the two of us before I started to expose him to my wacky friends and family. It seems that I actually upset some dear people in my life because they read about him in one of my articles instead of hearing it from me first. Holy crap, it appears that I am always pissing someone off! For those of you that I offended, I will get back to you as soon as I can. Please take a number.

Next there were those of you who felt that I must be ever so cognizant of our "cultural" differences. I appreciated this point of view, but he has lived in the U.S. for decades and my grandmother who helped raise me was a fine English lady. I don't think there are really any cultural difficulties between us. Oh wait! Maybe you were referring to that "Men are from Mars" theory. That would make me have cultural differences with every man in the universe. The fact that he had an English upbringing has nothing to do with it. If he were from Kuala Lumpur, I would agree. Both of us speak English as our first language. It's more a "joie de vivre" difference, than cultural diversity. I feel the "joie" of things long before he does and that creates some problems.

One reader thought that I should be grateful that he is attentive in restaurants. She told me very sternly that I am not perfect (really?) and that some men just cannot express their feelings and that I am needy if I require being told that he cares. She continued to say that a man who keeps my wine glass full all the time is a "keeper". That may be true, but I couldn't stop wondering if I could deal with him not saying he missed me when I eventually had to check into Betty Ford. Sorry, that's just the way my mind and heart think. I can't help it.

I got some really sweet letters from ladies whose men, though flawed, were beyond wonderful. I heard accounts of rampant snoring, farting, and soup slurping guys whose gentle ways and endless thoughtfulness made them complete dreamboats in their women's eyes. I loved those letters especially. A friend of mine wrote to say that her boyfriend wasn't perfect, but that he calls every night before bed to tuck her in on the phone and say "I love you". Yes, Walt, we're talking about you. All I could do was swoon. Let me paint you a mental picture. Walt is a big "badass" biker guy. He is obviously also part teddy bear.

I was so flattered that many of you see clearly to my nurturing loving side. You came right out and said that you felt that I was way too tender-hearted to be with someone who chokes on words of endearment.

Well my precious readers, I took every word you wrote and measured the pros and the cons. I also factored in that I am not exactly a "walk in the park" when it comes to temperament. I have been called a hand full, a firecracker, and worse, so I have to make allowances for me being me.

Well, thanks to you I have sorted it all out and I am at peace. I also feel like I just won the Love Lottery. I put my money on my Fifi fans and you gave me exactly what I needed. You spoke to me frankly, you made me see the big picture from so many angles, you spoke to me with honesty and respect and most importantly, you put your arms around me and delivered the big hugs that I really needed. It doesn't matter that they could only be cyber hugs. I could feel every one. You showed concern for my conflicted feelings and urged me to follow my heart. You told me that you loved me.

I now know what's what and I know exactly what to do. Thank you.

One more thing... I love you,too.

Period Of Adjustment

I have some exciting news. I have this new man in my life and I really like him. We are in the first stages of getting to know one another, so it is interesting. Since you, my darling readers, know me pretty well after all this time together, I was hoping that you would tell me what you think. I know you will tell me the truth.

When you are 25 and dating, you don't need any help, but when you are older, have been previously married for ages and are a bit stuck in your ways, a little guidance would help. I know many of you out there are over 40 and been around the block more than once.

Okay, let me begin. He passes all my tests as far as integrity and depth of character. He doesn't get hinky when I talk about children or grandchildren, and I look forward to them all meeting. He is well dressed in a conservative sort of way. He is very pleasant to look at and he is warm and charming. He grew up in England and speaks with thick accent. For me this is not a problem. I grew up during the British Invasion and saw "A Hard Day's Night" a dozen times. I speak Beatle fluently. Understanding what he is saying to me is easy. Understanding why he said it and what he meant by it is much harder.

He's not a player and seems completely genuine and honest. He is considerate and attentive. To say that he is intelligent is an understatement. He is well educated and very successful in business. He is a great talker and a great listener. He is punctual and extremely well mannered. He is very knowledgeable about wine and never fails to bring fabulous bottles when he comes for dinner. He always helps clear the table afterwards and begins immediately on the dishes. We have a good time together and discuss everything under the sun. He describes himself as a Renaissance man and I believe that to be a very accurate description. He is not a snob, but is a bit stiff. I'm just sayin'...

I know that some of you ladies are saying to yourself, "Wow! Why can't I find a man like that?" and I agree. He is remarkable. Why am I confounded as to what to do next? Here's why.

Although he can quote Shakespeare and can spout ancient poetry, he is not romantic. We were discussing love relationships and I started describing what I thought every woman would like to hear. To be told that a man adores you and can't live without you were the perfect words to me. He immediately sat up a little straighter and quickly amended what I said. "That is just not true" he said. Okay, I get it, Mr. Semantic Pants! I knew where his exacting mind was going. Of course a man could certainly still live if his woman died or stopped loving him, but he is saying that he would rather not live without his woman by his side. I got the feeling that if my new man ever did fall completely in love with me, the best declaration of his undying love I would ever get would be something like "I am very fond of you, dear. I am extremely pleased that we found each other". I am stupid romantic and I wear my heart on my sleeve. I am wondering if this yearning for romance will get in the way of this relationship progressing. Too bad there isn't Viagra-like product for men to keep their romantic side erect.

I admit that he is conservative with his feelings, but I have always prided myself in being able to loosen up the most restrained of people. When I say something gushy, like "spending time together is so wonderful and feels so right", I know he feels the same way but why does he have to nod his head and say "I concur"?

I get it that we are very different, but that's what makes it so exciting. I am willing to make concessions, but the romance thing is really important to me. I am all about love and romance, as you all know. Hey! I saw the movie "Ghost", too... and I don't do "ditto" very well either.

The other night he took me to a lovely Italian restaurant. I watched him pour olive oil and balsamic vinegar onto his side plate. I then noticed that my side plate was already full. For a minute I thought I was having a senior moment and had forgotten that I had already done it, but realized that he had poured both onto my plate first. So sweet. I am not used to it and I thanked him. He got boyfriend points for that. He also keeps my wine glass filled and is always concerned that I am happy and comfortable. Good stuff!

I always tell him that he looks nice and he does. He never says much of anything about how I look. I swear that even if I were to meet him at the door in a scuba suit, I would get the same "good evening, ma'am" that I usually get.

When he comes to my home for the most casual dinner, he could go immediately to a job interview without changing his clothes. His idea of casual and mine are very different, but I find it refreshing to see a man nicely dressed and impeccably groomed. Last night he came over for a low key dinner and to watch my favorite show, "Project Runway". I noticed half way through that my man was dressed better than both of the famous men designer judges.

By now, you must be sensing my angst. I don't want to mess this up, but do a Free Spirit/1960s Wild Child and Renaissance Man/Slightly Stiff Englishman have a chance? I would give an enthusiastic "YES!" myself if it weren't for one big issue. We have very diverse views on a super sensitive subject. Oh, it's not politics or religion; we can figure all of that out easily. We are both civilized people who respect the opinions of others. The deal breaker might be my two little dogs. Don't misunderstand, he likes the dogs very much and they love him. The issue here is the fact that my dogs both have vast wardrobes and I dress them everyday. My dogs are happy when they are dressed up and the attention and treats they get from everyone makes their tails wag like crazy. If my puppies were uncomfortable, I wouldn't do it, but they not only hold still to be dressed they seem to know that they rock whatever outfit they are wearing. My man teases me about it constantly. He thinks that it is insane to put clothes on dogs. Usually he is open-minded about everything else and if he sees a valid reason for a change of heart on a subject, he will consider it. Perhaps if Brooks Brothers came out with a line of dog clothes, he would be more lenient with his harsh opinions. I even looked on the Internet to see if Queen Elizabeth ever dressed up her Corgi dogs. No such good luck, but a whole huge part of the population thinks that dogs look cuter dressed up. I am quite sure that most of the dogs think they look pretty hot as well.

Tell me what you think. Can this work? I don't want to blow it with this guy, but I have zillions of dollars wrapped up in doggy fashions.

Woman Of The Cloth

You already know that I am quirky, so you won't be shocked by my next admission. As I was ironing my cloth napkins over the weekend, I had sweet thoughts of my mother teaching me how to press them just so and stack them when I was a girl. Just in case you think I was preparing for the holidays, I wasn't. I use cloth napkins at my house every day, even though I am usually the only one dining.

Now when I say "dining" I am referring to any kind of eating at home. If I have a peanut butter sandwich, I use a cloth napkin. You have no idea how elegant a PB&J can be when you wipe your lips with real cloth.

Believe me when I tell you that switching to cloth can even make eating a Hot Pocket on the couch feel sophisticated.

Think of how it feels when you go to a fancy restaurant and the waiter takes your starched napkin, unfurls it dramatically, and places it in your lap. It's special... and you probably sit up straighter and look forward to your meal with greater anticipation. I get the same feeling when I use cloth napkins at home. I skip the unfurling part because it scares the dogs, but the feeling of cloth in my lap instead of paper makes me feel like a queen.

I really hate it that with most people, cloth napkins have become something for only special occasions or 5-star restaurants. Believe me when I tell you that switching to cloth can even make eating a Hot Pocket on the couch feel sophisticated.

It is really no big deal to throw a weeks worth of napkins in the washer. The ironing part takes no time at all and sometimes I can just kind of smooth them with my hands. It's all worth it when you sit down to eat. And when you have a guest? Just watch their faces when you hand them a cloth napkin to go with their coffee and bagel.

I guess I am just a tactile person. I love thick towels, soft sheets, and lofty comforters, as well. Thank goodness the same people who make paper napkins and paper towels didn't tinker with converting other cloth items into disposable paper. Can you imagine getting out of the tub and tearing off a big wide piece of perforated paper toweling from a big roll? I wince at the thought. The best part of bathing is the "hug" you get when you wrap a towel around yourself.

I had a dreadful experience once that proves that this is so true. I was staying in a friends guest house which was located about 100 yards from the main house. I was happily taking a hot shower and did not realize until I got out - dripping wet - that the host had forgotten to restock the bathroom with towels since the last visitor. Not wishing to damage the wood floors in the cottage, I turned to my survival instincts. I got back in the shower and shook my tailfeather and a few other things to get as much water off me as I could. I then stepped out and used most of the box of Kleenex on the counter. I got dry enough to race to the bedroom and finish up with my sweatshirt. I have worshiped the feel of bath towels since that day.

Granted, some things make much more sense made out of paper. Motherhood has become more convenient and less stinky with the advent of disposable diapers. Although good handkerchiefs are very old school and romantic for both men and women, I never liked the idea of carrying around a booger-y hanky all day. You can only use it once before it is disgusting. I like my tissues, thank you. Now, if you want to give paper a real round of applause, lets hear it for toilet paper! Before it's invention, people used everything from leaves to corn husks to do the job. French royalty used lace, which sounds nicer, but still terrible. I am grateful for my ultra thick, 2-ply, kitten soft, toilet paper, but I am still opposed to the use of paper napkins in the home.

I imagine that I hold on to some of "old school" ideas because I really don't love it that the whole world has gotten so casual and forgotten how some things can make simple everyday occurrences more pleasurable. Maybe I've seen too many 1940s movies where ladies do ladylike things like write their daily correspondence on real stationary with their initials embossed on it. Now women just dash off an email or a text message if they want to say something. They don't even take the trouble to write whole words these days. Is anybody THAT busy that they don't have time to write "you" instead of just "U"? I am pretty sure that I won't have much luck convincing these same people to use cloth napkins, but it's their loss.

Think about what I'm saying. Think about buying some napkins made of real cloth to use every day. I promise that you will see what wonders it does for your sense of well being. It will make you feel regal and elegant, even if you are eating a Lean Cuisine and watching Family Feud.

Trust me on this one.