Titillating Conversation Part 2

Okie dokie, my darlings... we are gathered here today, in the presence of hopefully no one, to figure out more about your breasts and your bra size. I am assuming that you are sitting at the computer in your best-fitting, unpadded bra. If you have a husband or best friend to help you with the measuring part, it's not a bad idea. If you don't, I will be with you every step of the way.

Let's Measure!

Now that you have written down your numbers and checked the graph for your cup size, how many of you are spitting and sputtering at me on the computer? Many times when I measure someone, she is in disbelief at what size I recommend. It's not until I get women in the right bra that they become believers.

As you all know, bras come in a lot of sizes. Manufacturers like to scale down what they make so a lot of women fit the cups and don't pay attention to the fact that they are buying a bra that is too big around. Or worse yet, they fit their band size and let lots of breast spill over. Neither is a good thing.

How would you like it if some shoe manufacturers decided to just make sizes 6, 8, and 10. A bunch of us would be forced to squish our feet into shoes that are too small or slop around in ones that are too big. That's kind of what the bra industry does to ladies and that's why you need to know what size you are in my Perfect Fifi Bra World.

A dear friend of mine who is tallish and enviably slender let me measure her a few years back. I told her that she was not the 34B or 32C she thought she was. As it turned out, she measured as a 30D or possibly a 30DD in some styles. Of course she had never heard of those sizes, but I assured her that they DO exist. She actually was close with the 32C when she could find them, but herein lies the problem: The cups on a 32C and a 30D are exactly the same, but where they are sewn onto the band is different. The 30D placed the cups precisely where her breasts are located on her body.

The size she needs is available, but not as easily. They don't carry it at Target or Wal-Mart or even Macy's. But there is this wonderful thing called the Internet (where you will find LoveFifi.com) that can help you find more custom sizes. Finding your true size is not only infinitely more comfortable, but also does fantastic things for your figure. I will help you find the style and size of bra that you need no matter where I have to look. If we don't have it, maybe I can order it special just for you. If some other retailer has what you need, I will give you the information.

After we calculate your size, there is a little more to it. Your height and build can have an impact on a good bra fit. Doing the numbers can give you your perfect bra size, but sometimes it just gets you in "the neighborhood". It's a good start, however, and that's where I come in. Write to me. Tell me about your build. I want to know what you have trouble with, what you like in a bra and what you don't like. If you wear a particular bra regularly please tell me what it is. Style numbers and manufacturer info will help.

I am here for my ladies... and my guys, too, so let's talk. If you cross dress or are transsexual, I can help you find your dream bra. Don't be shy, any of you. I am here with an open mind and open arms. I have worked with cancer victims for years and can help with the dilemmas associated with losing a breast or breasts or finding a bra after a lumpectomy.

I look forward to hearing from you. Send me those numbers!

Senti-MENTAL Journey

I am writing this from this from Indialantic, Florida, which is right below Orlando. It is 6 o′clock in the morning and I am trying to put my thoughts down on this iPad from my guest bedroom without the benefit of coffee. I am here to help my brother-in-law and sister-in-law, Micky and Alana, through a somewhat bittersweet process: selling their home by the sea and moving back to California, where most of the family resides. Their house is going on the market in 2 weeks or so, but before that, a giant estate sale had to take place so I came here to help, both physically and mentally. Just to clarify, I am divorced, but my ex-husband’s family is still MY family. Basically, they kept me and he got to have his girlfriend. I am the big winner in this deal.

“Estate sales are a very emotionally draining experience and it was up to me to be the voice of reason every step of the way.”

Getting ready for a move across country and downsizing considerably is very physically demanding even if you are 35, which we are not. Just setting up to sell a house full of stuff is a huge effort. I conducted estate sales as a sideline for many years, so I know the ropes as to how to get things sold. There is more to it than just the day of the sale. Before anything else can happen, you have to separate what is to be sold from the items that are keepers. This is where the real fun begins and why they really needed me. This is a very emotionally draining experience and it was up to me to be the voice of reason every step of the way. Parting with things you love can be so traumatic and can really mess with your head and heart.

I know from experience how hard this process can be. After my divorce, the family home was sold and I ran my own estate sale. I had lived in the house for 25 years and raised my babies there. I was moving into a place not even half the square footage of my house, so I knew I had to whittle down my belongings. Easier said than done. My poor sister had to be much more than "the voice of reason" with me. She had to perform an intervention on me every time she viewed what I was planning on keeping.

I couldn't imagine myself as a single woman living alone. I couldn't fathom not needing every mixing bowl, vase, platter and tablecloth that I owned. And what about the things that belonged to my loved ones who were no longer on this earth? And all the sweet gifts people had given me through the years? And my collections, for goodness sakes! I had been working on those for decades. My poor sister had to talk me down from the roof on every "treasure" that I insisted on keeping. She was an angel and was very patient with me. I know what Alana was going through and I was determined to get her through this sale with a feeling of relief from being out from under all her stuff and not regretting her choices.

I am the most sentimental fool I know of and my sister-in-law is not far behind me. I had to be gently persuasive when trying to get her to part with things and put them in the sale. She hadn't come to grips with the fact that many of the items she felt she couldn't live without were things she hadn't used in years. My dear brother-in-law, Micky, was no problem at all. He was in charge of getting rid of the endless tools, widgets, electronics, yard equipment and other "testosterone-ish" items that filled the garage and shed. He had way less attachment to his man stuff and was excited to turn them into cash. He kept out of our way and only appeared when he was needed to move something. Micky is a dream man. He made my job easier. Alana is another story.

She really loves and trusts me and listened to my reasoning. She let go of things she really wanted to keep and I was proud of her. I didn't even say anything when I noticed that some items had mysteriously made their way from the "sale" area to the "keep" room. When they go to pack it up, there will be another edit when everything doesn't fit in the moving van and yet another one when they find a place in California and discover they still own too much. It's the natural progression of things and it doesn't seem to end, at least not for me. I have lived in my place for nearly 7 years and I STILL have an ass-load of belongings to get rid of. So who am I to judge?

We held the sale for 3 straight days. We made a nice amount of cash and got rid of tons. Clean up was a breeze. Alana and I hauled an SUV filled with the leftovers to the Goodwill on the last day and she never looked back. Good girl!

This experience was a good one for all of us. I got to visit my beloved beach oasis one more time and be with people I adore. We proved that even old people can "Git 'er done!" with determination, love and a good amount of red wine.

I had such a good time, despite the long hours and hard work. And as a bonus, I get to have their fantastic curio cabinet that I have admired for ages. I kept all my little collections of Murano glass birds, my grandmother's tea cups, my mother's thimbles and so on and I will have a perfect place to display them. Boy, will my sister be surprised to see them again! Wink, wink.

Tweet Inspiration

I am so into tweeting. What a wonderful world this is, and I have discovered a fascinating part of, that has eluded me for too long. Before you start looking up my Twitter account, let me remind you that I am about a decade behind in social media, so it's not those "tweets" that I am referring too. If it wasn't for my Social Media Goddess, Miss Nora, LoveFifi.com would be up the creek without a paddle when it comes to the all the social media hoop-di-doo that is needed to be in business today. Thank you Nora. I would post my appreciation on Facebook and thank you publicly if I knew how.

What I am talking about are the real tweets. The ones that come from birds. Since I moved up into the hills, I have embraced my woodsy environment with great enthusiasm. Seeing a mother deer and her baby only feet away from me is a common occurrence. I have had to learn the hard way about the beautiful Bambi creatures that roam around my home. I was foolish enough to plant roses against my 4 foot back fence when I first moved in. Little did I know that roses were a deer delicacy. I was lucky to see any blooms at all because the next time I looked, I was the proud owner of stick bushes with not a rose in sight. I plant differently now but still leave something for my deer to munch on so I can have the pleasure of seeing them up close.

I have had to also learn how to coexist in harmony with the squirrels, possums, white-tailed bunnies, chipmunks, coyotes, and mountain lions (yes, mountain lions). But it is my relationship with birds that gives me joy every day. Even though I am a hopeless city girl, I always liked birds. My grandmother had a lovely yellow canary named "Beauty". I remember how ceremoniously she would cover him over at night and how he would sing when we uncovered him in the morning. She had him for as long as I could remember. It wasn't until recently that I realized that canaries don't live for 30 years, so she probably switched him out for a new one a few times. But "Beauty" always sang and it was a fond memory.

When I moved to the hills, I started a love affair with birds that is still going strong. I treasure my time on my back deck each morning. There are trees of every description all around me. The robins, doves and blue jays come to visit and dine on the special mix birdseed that I buy for them. The little finches use my fountain as a birdbath and don't seem to mind me watching them do their morning toilette. It is amazing that my presence doesn't scare the birdies away. They don't seem to fear the lady who just got out of bed who's hair is sticking straight up and who's eyes resemble a raccoon's from yesterdays mascara. I think the fact that I serve a virtual bird buffet keeps them coming back. And the hummingbirds... be still my heart. I have several feeders and I get herds of hummingbirds. Do they come in herds? Let me check. OK, I'm back and now I am really excited! A whole lot of hummingbirds is called "a charm". How cute is that? And while I was reading the online bird dictionary, I learned that a bunch of blue jays is "a band" and my finches in a group are "a trembling". The more I read the more I wanted to coax even more types of birds to my yard. I learned early on that if you give them what they like, they will find you. I guess word spreads fast and furiously in the bird world.

I started fantasizing about how I could make the back of my house a sanctuary and lure even more fantastic winged creatures to my yard. I will need some kind of a small pond so I can entice "a ballet" of swans to migrate to my property. I hear there are larks in my area and I need to find out what they like to eat so I can get "an exaltation" of larks to move my way. "A conspiracy" of ravens might be a little scary, but "a bouquet" of pheasants sounds like a divine addition to my bird community. At night I hear the owls but I don't see them. I know that they are out there and when they hang out in a group they are called "a parliament". I have to face the fact that although my personal space is pretty rural, I still live in L.A., so I guess I will never have "a flamboyance" of flamingos in my patio, but I really want one.

My neighbor next door always admonishes me for putting food out for the birds because it encourages squirrels. I think of it more as going with the flow of the balance of nature. Encouraging squirrels? Really, now. It's not like I am trying to get them to go to college and make something of themselves. Yes, they are precocious and they are piggish when it comes to stealing the bird food. They are fun to watch when they do their "Cirque du Soleil" acrobatics off the bird feeders. I have the squirrel-proof kind but the squirrels just laugh and steal the seed. They are very entertaining and I would never shoo them away. In fact, I am thinking of buying the t-shirt below. It makes me smile and it will drive my neighbor lady crazy.

A Loss Of Words

My panties are in a huge knot right now. Of course they are LoveFifi.com panties and they will be like new again after I have my say.

Here goes. I met a man at a friend's dinner party. He is attractive, accomplished, very well spoken and unmarried. We talked the evening away and there was truly a connection. It was nice. He asked for my phone number and email address and I obliged. I was surprised at myself. I have mentioned before that I loathe dating, especially that first one. I find going to my accountant for my yearly tax appointment more enjoyable than most first dates. But since the dinner party kind of got all that out of the way, I threw caution to the wind and gave him my contact information. After all, a handsome man with such impressive credentials, a sense of humor, the ability to speak knowledgeably on so many subjects may be the treasure of a man I had given up trying to find.

The next day I received a text message from Mr. Fabulous that said. "How r u? IMHO last night was GR8! I will call u tonight. xoxo PQ". I stared at this damn text in complete disbelief. How could so few words say so much about a person? "How r u?" Really? He is so busy he doesn't have time to write "are you". If he doesn't have time for four extra letters, could he have time for me? Now IMHO baffled me completely. It looked like some new medical insurance category like a PPO or an HMO, but that didn't make sense. Thank goodness for the Internet. I soon found out that it stood for "in my humble opinion" in texting-speak. I got the "last night was GREAT" part without looking anything else up. And he finished up his message by flattering my existence once again by referring to me as "u".

Did some 14-year-old skate boarder kidnap my my articulate and successful new friend, Peter Quigley, and is now writing to me in his stead as some kind of sick prank? This guy earned an MBA and owns a successful consulting firm. He obviously enjoyed my company because he stuck to me like glue and wrote me the very next morning. But this mish-mash of goofy acronyms and abbreviated words left me disappointed and completely bewildered as to how to write back.

I like the English language. I like communication. I don't want to have to refer to some new age cyber glossary to try to figure out what he is saying. I realize that he thinks it's young and techie cute to speak in shortcuts and acronyms, but it really put me off. There are enough acronyms already in our language and for the most part, they make sense. They were created for efficiency not laziness.

Acronyms like these below were totally necessary. Too scientific to remember the whole thing!

SCUBA Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus

RADAR Radio Detection and Ranging

LASER Light Amplification by the Stimulated Emission of Radiation

JPEG Joint Photographic Experts Group

ZIP (Code) Zone Improvement Plan

Acronyms like these are forgivable because they get the point across quickly and are succinct. Very efficient, I would say.

DIY Do It Yourself

ETA Estimated Time of Arrival

AKA Also Known As

TBA To Be Announced

ATM Automated Teller Machine

RIP Rest In Peace

I am not offended when someone asks for my ID, or wants to know if they can use my PC or complains that their car keys are MIA. All are acceptable modern additions to our language. But when some man tries to woo me in a short text by making it even shorter and requires me to decode what he has to say, it makes me crazy. This guy graduated from HARVARD with honors. It so distresses me that people don't realize that taking these shortcuts is not flattering to the person on the receiving end, unless you are a teenager. I am not a teenager and I am going to stick to my infatuation with whole words and complete sentences. And I would also like to mention that many school districts in this country are no longer teach cursive writing. No more handwriting; you heard me.

There is no rhyme or reason to this epidemic of whittling down perfectly easy phrases to type. OK, I can live with LOL. It's cute enough to stay. But if you want to thank me very much, please refrain from typing TYVM. I can guarantee that I put effort into what I did for you and I deserve better. If I made your day better, please don't text me YMMD. It wouldn't feel as good as you spelling it all out.

So what am I going to tell the man who so romantically refers to me as "u"? I wrote to him in a way that is the complete opposite of what he wrote to me. I emailed him for one thing. I started with "Hello Peter". I channeled my Emily Bronte self and wrote lovely, ladylike complete sentences without an acronym to be found. I signed it "Warmest Regards, Fifi"

I've gotten nothing back so far, but my guess is that he either won't "get" it or won't like it. Whichever is fine with me. If he replies to my email and sounds like the man that I met at my friends house, then there may be something there between us. If he sends me another one of those "too cool for school" abbreviations-from-Hell texts, I probably will not ever reply.

Whew... My panties are officially unknotted and I am breathing normally once again.

P.S. If I am ever lost and you are on my search team, if you see this from the air, please disregard everything I just said.

Minimal Husbandry

I don't think it's any secret that I am divorced. I take care of everything myself or at least that's what people think. My house is in good order. Nothing is broken or in disrepair. My garden is lovely. My car is well-maintained. My finances are orderly. How do I do all this and still run LoveFifi.com? I couldn't do it without my husbands. That's right, my husbands... plural. Yes, I am indeed divorced. I was married for a very long time to a good man who honestly was best at making a living. He couldn't fix a thing. He didn't know a socket wrench from a screwdriver and had no desire to learn, so I figured out early on that if something broke, it was my job to find someone who could do the repair and not cost a fortune. It was kind of that way with everything. He was very important, so I took care of maintaining our life. I also had a career and a truck load of kids to take care of but I am not complaining. Actually in a weird way, my marriage prepared me for being single and on my own at this time of my life.

Back to my husbands. When you are in charge of a lot of "departments" let's call them, such as when running a household, you have to have a team of people that you can rely on at a moment's notice. I was always on the lookout for honest and talented people who could do the things we couldn't. I asked a lot of questions, nosed around a bit, and before long, I had quite a repertoire of butchers, bakers and candlestick makers who could take care of our needs. It got to the point that I had a killer list of plumbers, electricians, gardeners, handy guys and more who were tested and had my seal of approval. I was Angie's List long before Angie ever thought of it. If somebody I know needed a dependable person to fix or build something, or a good affordable mechanic or a tree trimmer, they would call me. The one thing that I was always most grateful for was that even when these guys got super busy because of my recommendations, they always took care of me and my family immediately.

Then comes 2007. I get a divorce. I buy a place of my own in another neighborhood. I am alone. It's not like I was married to a handyman and went through "fix it" shock as I was now used to finding someone else to do it. It turned out to be a blessing that I was married to the unhandiest man in the universe and it was then that I realized that I held the key to a happy life as a single woman. So once again, as I settled into my new life and my new home, I found talented and reliable guys to take care of the things that I can't do or don't care to do. Once I find someone great, I add them to my list, but this time I don't share them with the world. What I do is take care of them. I always offer coffee, cold drinks and food when one of my wonderful workers is doing something for me. I turn sports on the TV in every room in the house. They like to fix things for me and make me happy just like a husband does. That's what I have been told, but I have never been involved with a man who could fix anything so I wouldn't know for sure. But in apple pie America, that's what I hear goes on in homes.

So I affectionately call these men my husbands. It takes a lot of them doing everything really well to make me happy. No one man could ever come close and it works out well. I have my Handy Man Husband, Pete. He takes his coffee with heavy cream and two sugars. He has a key to my house and if something breaks, I can call him from work and he can fix it when I am not home. Sometimes I don't even see him and whatever it is gets fixed as if by magic. My Gardening Husband, Carlos (black coffee or Coca Cola... I stock both), not only trims, prunes, fertilizes my flowers, he fills up my bird feeders and waters for me when I am out of town. I have a Mechanic Husband, Sandy, who'd really like to be my husband, so I play it a little cooler with him. I don't know how he takes his coffee and I never will. I am just sweet and funny and give him lots of smiles and gratefulness. He has a giant crush on me and calls me personally to let me know when it's time for my car to be serviced. He has rescued me many times and done miracles so I wouldn't be without a vehicle. Believe it or not, I have a Manicure Husband, Kenny. Yep, the person who does my nails is a man. His beautiful wife Eve does my pedicures, so everything is Kosher. I do allow my husbands to have real wives, as long as they treat us both well. I have a Dog Groomer Husband, Jason. He delivers my dogs to me at the house if I need him too. I am his favorite customer because I have brought him a ton of business and he loves my dogs. I have a husband for every task a person has to endure to get things done. I don't know what collective noun you would use to describe my congregation of husbands. Well, it's a gaggle of geese, a pride of lions, a flush of ducks and a pod of whales. A herd of husbands, maybe?

Anyway, I am very well taken care of and I take very good care of my guys. All I need now is a husband husband who can devote his time to loving me, making me laugh, kissing me, hugging me and I will gladly do the same for him. And the good news is that he doesn't have to do much around the house. My husbands are all happily married, so I don't think much will change.

Honestly, finding a real husband for me is easier than finding, let's say... a good electrician. But finding a real husband would entail dating unless things have changed. I hate dating. You know, I think I will see if Angie can recommend a husband husband for me. Her recommendation service has come a long way and you never know.

Junk For Joy

The big garage sale extravaganza is over. After 3 weekends of hard labor to prepare the merchandise and stage all of our glorious crap, the big day finally arrived. Sister and I took a vacation day on Friday so we would be completely ready to face the crowds of bargain hunters on Saturday.

We advertised this as "the garage sale of the century" and the bargain hunters arrived in droves. Sister and I were dressed in proper attire for the event. You have to be easily identifiable as the bosses if you're going to make the best deals and the most money. Sissy and I exuded an "in charge" vibe with a touch badass thrown in, if I do say so myself. We were decked out in jeans, old concert t-shirts, cowboy hats and fanny packs. Ok, maybe we looked more like tourists from Texas, but people got it that we were running the show.

The customers dove into our merchandise and had arm loads of goodies in no time. It was amazing. You'd think we were giving it away for free. Actually, that is a pretty close to what they wanted to pay. One of the hottest items were the dozens of extra-plush, nearly new, (freshly washed) terry cloth bath towels. These weren't ours. We have a friend who's aunts neighbor died and she had a closet full of really deluxe towels in different color palettes that she would change around to suit her mood. We agreed to sell her stuff and take a cut of the proceeds. Every two minutes someone would hold up a towel and ask "how much?". "Two dollars each", I would reply thinking about what a great deal that was for such nice towels. Anyway, the reply from the prospective towel purchasers was always the same. "One dollar" and it was a statement, not a question. I was advised by many customers that they sell bath towels at Wal-Mart for only $2.50, so our towels were overpriced. I have watch too much QVC to let them get away comparing those towels with our fabulous, luxurious, dead-lady towels. I sprung into action and held up one of our towels then wrapped it around me to show how large they were. I then challenged them to feel the sumptuous thickness. I had to do this demo a bunch of times during the day, but we got two bucks for every one of those damn towels.

Garage sale customers are a breed of their own. One thing you can be sure of when you have one of these sales is that you will go through a laundry list of emotions. You will feel charmed, annoyed, sentimental, pissed off and amused. The folks that come to these things range from those who truly need basic household items, to the swap meeters who resell your junk, to recyclers who love other peoples used stuff to nut cases who don't need anything but love bargains. It is that latter philosophy that got sister and I into our current situation. Oh yeah, there's also the scrap gold guys who come around, look at your costume jewelry through a loop and leave in a huff. Love those jerks. One man even asked me if there was any real gold on the table. He was too lazy to look! I couldn't resist; I told him, in my best blonde "Clueless" voice, that I had just sold the bag of stuff that had 14k on it to someone who was just here. He left in a double huff.

Then there are the people who pretend they don't speak English. I had one lady who brought me a pile of clothes, many still brand new, and wanted to know the price for all. I counted out 25 hangers that I took from her. I was calculating in my head and trying to be fair. Even though the tags were still hanging off much of it, this stuff doesn't fit us and neither sister nor I are going to slim down 10 lbs to be able to wear any of it. That was the original plan. "Twenty dollars for everything," I said with a smile, thinking that she would be over the moon excited about all those new clothes for so little money. "Too much," she said with a scowl. She then flashed all the money she had, $15, and tried to get me to take it. I could see that she was playing me, so I made her take out some items and I took her money. She came back later and bought the other stuff. I felt triumphant as a business person. Then she pulled out a bag with two items from the first round that she wanted to exchange. Who does that? I let her. By then I was exhausted. She won.

There were so many neighborhood residents who came and told us how amazing our sale was. We sold lots of things to locals who will give our treasures a good home. We made a lot of people happy and all in all it was a very fun day. We got rid of so much stuff. Was it worth it? Was it a success?

Well, we made an impressive four figures. The pile of garage sale inventory is infinitely smaller, covered up and ready to go for when we do it one more time next month. My sister has her garage back and her car is happy. I need to mention that the friend that was going to help us bailed on us and we had to hire a helper. Also, after three weekends of manual labor our old bodies were in pretty bad shape, so we each had a long massage on Sunday. We were too tired to cook, so we ended up eating out most of the time for the last three weeks. So, was it a success? Hell yes! We made a little money and got rid of a ton of things we don't use. Best of all was that the two sisters got spend time together. We didn't whistle while we worked, but we yakked up a storm. We talked about everything and everyone and planned out all the great fun we're going to have in this life. And don't tell anyone, but each of us got to buy some fantastic things that we couldn't live without. The dead lady didn't just leave nice towels.

Garage Sale 101

My sister and I have been piling up unwanted items for the past year and planning the granddaddy of all garage sales. We usually do this a couple of times a year, but this time is different because we are seriously downsizing. We both have so much stuff that we don't use or need, it's time to let a lot of it go. Sister has a nice sized garage for storage and she also lives on the perfect street. It's a bit of a thoroughfare, so people naturally stop when they see the fabulous array of crap that we have for sale.

Last weekend we began the preparation. For two solid days we pulled down the stacks of boxes, sorted out the treasures by category, moved the furniture to key locations and set up a million folding tables. We know how to do this, because we got into this situation because we love to go to garage sales. We both are very pleased with the abundance of great stuff that we own and use that came from garage sales, flea markets and auctions, but right now we just have too much. My poor sister's garage was so full that there was barely room for her car, a Volkswagen bug. Need I say more? We've been waiting for summer to pass, because it's harder to run a good sale when it's too hot. Buyers don't like to shop for long when it's hot and this girl hates to be hot, so fall is perfect The big event is scheduled for two weekends from now.

“You want to grab the drive-by shoppers who are on the way to somewhere else and can't resist stopping.”

The goal is to slim down what we own, make some money for our upcoming vacation and give my sister her garage back. We will do all of that and then some. I am a merchant and I am determined to make this sale the "event extraordinaire". It is important that you stage these sales so that everything looks appetizing to the buyers. There is a way to categorize the clutter so it is irresistible. The trick is to make it look random, but organize it cleverly. You don't want your customers knocking into each other, so you create "departments" without being obvious. The front lawn is like the showroom floor of a car dealership. You want to grab the drive-by shoppers who are on the way to somewhere else and can't resist stopping. The lawn is where we will put some furniture, the bicycle, the outdoor tea cart with the yellow striped umbrella and the "art gallery" of framed pictures that will line the walls... everything big and flashy. We will put a long table of china, pretty glassware, lamps, picture frames, candlesticks, etc. to be sure to attract the women. I think we have at least one of everything in the world and we plan to show it off and bring in the buyers. We even have a brand new professional barber pole to sell... don't ask. I will be the cashier and checkout will be on the front lawn as well. There's MORE treasures beyond the lawn in the patio area and the garage. They can enter, but they can only get out by going by me and my security man, Andy. He's our dear friend and Sister's next door neighbor. He will be there to keep a watchful eye on the customers and make sure everyone pays. He is also in charge of feeding us, so his presence is invaluable.

The patio area is where we keep all the "pretties". The vintage stuff, the linens, the purses, the cute kitchen accessories, decorator items and basically stuff that woman love to buy. My sister and I couldn't not buy this stuff, so we brought it home but now it has to go! The last stop is the garage. This we call the "testosterone department". Men come looking for tools, etc., or get dragged along to these sales. We are setting up an area to keep them organized and out of the way while the ladies shop to their hearts' content. The garage is staged with everything utilitarian from tools, to basketballs to sleeping bags, electronics, poker equipment, a Shop Vac and a 1990s boom box just to name some of the goodies in our man trap. Sis and I have gathered everything up from past projects, past boyfriends and ex-husbands and created a garage sale "man cave" that should wow the guys and keep them busy.

There's still a lot of work to be done but it's coming along great. Wanna hear a funny story? We had to run out last Saturday to get some things we needed. On the way to Target, we ran into of all things... a big Garage Sale. It would have been ridiculous to stop, so we did. Sister and I came to the realization a long time ago that we are indeed ridiculous. We both spotted these two great pieces of older furniture, a French Provincial desk and an adorable dresser. We don't need either one for ourselves, but they would sure add some panache to OUR sale. The owners were obviously eager to unload these pieces, so Sis and I offered them $40 for both and talked them into delivering them to us later in the day. Sister has a VW bug, remember. Furniture sells really well if you know what you're doing, and we do. The truth is that their crap makes our crap look even better. I'll post photos next week. You'll see that buying two large pieces of furniture when you're trying to unload a lifetime of junk makes perfect sense.

This weekend is more of the same. We clean and dust and fold and make our goods look nice. The more you prepare what you're selling, the more money you will make. If you take a stack of freshly laundered gently used bath towels, tie them up with satin ribbon and a bow and slap a price on them that is fair, they will be gone in a flash. We make everything look as nearly new as we can. I know that's not what most people do, but that's how Sister and I roll.

I'll keep you posted on our progress. We are so excited about getting all this stuff out of our lives and turning it into cash. But I think what we are looking forward to the most is making some space in our garages and houses. How else are we going to be able to go out to garage sales on Saturdays again? Out with the old stuff and in with the NEW old stuff! Yeah!

Driving Me Nuts

I am going through an identity crisis and I am not happy about it. One would think that by the time you hit mid-life, you would be pretty much evolved and know exactly who you are. Not so.

The time has come for me to buy a new car. My Jaguar just had her 14th birthday, and although she is still very pretty and has only a little more than 100,000 miles on her, she does not suit my life anymore. I am tired of laying out garbage bags on the leather seats when I go buy new flowers for my garden.

I am constantly shopping for my next car. I haven’t been to a dealership yet, but I notice every car (and its driver) when I am out and about. I feel no shame when I peer inside a car I am considering in order to see the interior when at a parking lot. Because I never drive very far, I keep cars for a long time, so I need to do a really good job of choosing Ruby’s(she’s red) successor. I also have to buy a car that my sister likes. I am always happy to use my car when we go somewhere, but I like it best when she drives.She loves to drive and I hate it. It doesn’t even bother me that when I throw her the keys she rolls her eyes and calls me Miss Daisy. Sticks and stones, baby. I even considered buying a pre-owned Porsche. She’d want to drive that all the time and it would be great. But I have decided against a Porsche out of respect for the Porsche Corporation and their reputation for fast, precision sports cars. There would be a lot of times when I would be driving it myself. I imagine that they would not want to see one of their cars in the slow lane, my favorite, or plugging along behind a truck, never passing, because I don’t do that.

There is so much to consider when choosing a car. A conscientious consumer like myself must think about efficiency, eco-friendliness and the practicality of the vehicle. And when I get done with that, there’s how the car looks, what color it is and how will I feel when the valet drives up in it and nods to tell me my car is here. I am not going to lie to you, I want a car that is sexy.

It’s not that I don’t worry about my carbon footprint, I do. I just don’t think an electric car is for me. I can’t even remember to plug in my cell phone to stay connected to the world, so an electric vehicle is really out of the question. And do I dare say it without offending? They’re ugly. I am at a place in my life where I can drive any kind of car that I can afford. Driving around in a car that is shaped like the business end of a Dustbuster does not appeal to me.

When it comes to cars, I have paid my dues, for heaven’s sake. Please... I drove an apple green Gremlin in the '70s because that’s all I could afford. I will never forget the smile on that salesman’s face when I drove off in that thing. It served me well, but I had no privacy. I could be spotted from the moon and people were always telling me where they had seen me around town.

When I got married and had babies, I drove vans. I could carry a gaggle of kids, a pile of sports equipment and still have room for an ass-load of groceries in the back. It’s what I needed at the time and I never gave it a thought. Some of my favorite photos of my kids are of them doing the luggage handling on top of the van for family vacations. I was always such an overprotective mother; my kids were amazed that I actually let them get up on top of such a tall vehicle. I was there to catch them if they fell and I didn’t give a crap about what happened to the car... it was a van.

Then the kids grew up and went off to college. My ex-husband decided that I needed a snazzy car for a change. He found this very beautiful Jaguar with every detail and extra they came with at the time and he insisted that I have it. He made me sit in it at the dealership to see what I looked like in the driver’s seat. Both he and the salesman had pretend heart attacks as I sat at the wheel. It was really cute and I experienced what it feels like to sit in a glamorous car for the first time. If anyone out there knows my ex-husband’s girlfriend, please feel free to tell her that story.

Anyway, I am so befuddled as to what to get. I don’t want a car that is too young for me and I don’t want one that has geezer written all over it. I don’t have to buy a giant vehicle that will hold a softball team or a certain one because I am Mrs. Somebody. I want to drive something that reflects the person I am now, but I just don’t know what that is. I am getting to the place with my car research where I now see cars on the road and mumble to myself what Consumer Reports had to say about it. I am ready to face the car salespeople. I am unafraid.

I am hoping that test driving cars is like trying on wedding dresses. It would be great if I just KNEW it was the one. All I want is a car that I can afford to drive that shines like a piece of jewelry on the outside and is sumptuous on the inside. My Jaguar has more polished wood than my dining room, so I am spoiled. I am terrified of buying something that I will regret. I have no trouble with buying a car that is “pre-owned and certified”. It doesn’t have to be new, just not 14 years old. The new cars all look like belly buttons these days. They don’t come in real colors unless they are bugs, Fiats, Smart Cars or half a million dollar sports cars. If I didn’t know what 50 Shades of Gray was about, I would think it was about the colors cars come in.

Now all I need is your help. If you are driving your dream car, tell me what it is and why it called to you. I am open to sedans, SUVs, jeeps.. you name it. Talk to me! Help me. Just one thing... no vans.

The Pretty Committee

I am so in love with HGTV and the whole DIY thing. I watch endless hours of TV that focus on making over ugly '70s houses and other neglected properties. The experts turn these places into chic, sophisticated homes that match the owner’s persona perfectly. The transformations are amazing.

It occurred to me the other day, while we were in the midst of our marathon photo shoot, that the same treatment should be given to people, especially us ladies. We sometimes get so busy with day to day life that we forget to spruce up or modernize our look. Just like well-built homes, we girls have “good bones” and all we need is an update. Let me get back to what happened with the models. We went on an extensive model search for “fluffier” girls who hopefully had some modeling experience. The plus-sized models world is very narrow and the same girls are used all the time. We wanted our own “dream team” of beauty-FULL models to represent LoveFifi.

The gorgeous six ladies who won out over the competition are extraordinary and have such amazing self-esteem. Even though most of them were first timers in front the camera, their confidence and femininity ignited their shots in a way that is indescribable. Imagine watching the most exquisite butterfly you have ever seen and there are fireworks exploding behind it in the sky. That’s what it felt like watching these lovelies express their inner and outer beauty in front of the camera.

You know I am very random, so please stick with me on this one. I am getting to the point. Before a model goes on set, she spends about 2 hours in hair and makeup. This was very exciting for my new models. For my straight size models, this is part of their professional day-to-day experience and they are privy to every beauty trick in the book. It’s just part of their lives. For my curvy girls, who are all very pretty, sitting in the makeup chair was like Disneyland. My beauty team, who I call The Pretty Committee, are the best in the business. Each and every one of my plus-sized girls was overwhelmed with the results which only added to their swagger when they stepped in front of the camera. Even though these girls were brimming with faith in themselves as women and were very comfortable with their bodies, they had never been polished up to their potential brilliance.

Ok, the point is coming... We all get so stuck in our routines that we don’t make time to upgrade our look. We leaf through magazines with all the new trends in hair and makeup in front of our faces and then put on our sweats, throw our hair in a ponytail, pop on our sunglasses and that’s as good as it gets. I am guilty it, too.

Only movie stars and celebrities have hair and makeup experts on staff. We regular girls have to be a little more resourceful. I am going to initiate a new movement and I hope all my ladies out there will be a part of it. It’s called DIYB... Do It Yourself, Baby.

First, take out older photos of yourself from 2,5,10 years ago. Do you still have the same hairdo? I did. We all buy makeup and hair products, how much of it do we only use once and eventually throw away?

Here’s where the DIYB starts. You can have your own Pretty Committee for very little money, or at least, money you would have spent anyway. Start getting the most out of it. The next time you go for a trim, ask the hairdresser if he/she were given the green light to do anything they wanted with your hair, what would they suggest? Assuming that you go to a contemporary salon and not one of those places that does that does shampoo-and-sets for blue-haired old ladies, you will probably get an answer worth listening to. Stylists have to keep up with the times and their suggestions are usually good. They also see you your beauty potential in a much different light than you do. Let them impart their expertise to you. They are the expert. Consider making a small change. Layers or bangs or some highlights are easy and can make an astonishing difference. If you never go to the hairdresser, spend a little money to go to a decent one every once in a while. And ask questions.

Is there anything more enticing than the makeup aisles Wal-Mart or Target? I am a big fan of drug store beauty products, but there is no one in those places who has a clue as to what would look good on you. Every department store in America has extensive beauty counters with smock-wearing makeup girls who are often employed not by the store, but by the makeup brand. They are trained to make women look better so that you will buy the products. They are at the ready to plunk you down on a stool and make you over. Let them! Ask for a hand mirror so you can look between every step. It doesn’t really matter which brand you choose. Look for the girl who you think looks the best and whose makeup is tastefully applied. Be careful not to get lassoed in by anyone who looks like a geisha, a call girl or a member of Kiss. Listen to every word. Watch every step. You'll have to buy something and my advice is to get a foundation (they are trained to match skin tones and the quality is very good) and/or a makeup primer (trust me, primer is too high tech for drug stores). Everything else can come from Walgreen's once you know what you need. Have her stroke a little blush on a tissue so you can match it later. If you don’t like the total result, come back another day and go to another brand. It’s basically a free service and besides, it’s fun.

And the last members of your own personal Pretty Committee are the people in your life. Please LISTEN to what they say when you have put all your new knowledge to work. It will happen and it feels so good.

My sweet mother never went out of the house without her “face” on. Her hair was always coiffed. She used to say that if you look good, you feel good. It’s true. How about a little DIYB? Are you in?

Just to get you going, I have printed photos of some of my new models when I met them, and after the experts got their hands on them. My butterflies...

Wedding Bliss

If you read me every week, you know that I went to Las Vegas last weekend for my niece's wedding. It was the sweetest, most precious day. The whole experience was beyond wonderful.

My niece calls me her fairy godmother. I love that a lot and do everything I can to be magical. The couple paid for the whole wedding and reception themselves, so I did what I could to help out. My sister, my daughter and yours truly hauled make-up, hair rollers and a ton of other beauty items to Vegas and turned ourselves into the Glam Squad.

The morning of the wedding, we all plied ourselves with 20 oz. lattes and whipped the bridal party into gorgeous goddesses. It was the most chaotic scene you can imagine. There wasn’t an inch of mirror space in that hotel room that didn’t have at least two ladies curling, powdering or eye lining. We finished on time without a hiccup. Everyone looked amazingly beautiful. It was time for the bride and her posse to leave for the chapel when all hell broke loose. “OMG!”, my niece yelled out. "I don’t have anything BLUE!” She was panicked. It wasn't like the matrimonial police were going to check her for the traditional something old, something new, etc... but we all know that brides want everything perfect. I quickly got a big hand mirror out and showed her that I had added some tiny pale baby blue Swarovski stones to her floral headpiece just in case. She was relieved and I was triumphant. This was not my first rodeo, folks. And that is why I am her fairy godmother. The “something blue” always gets forgotten. I then started thinking about where the whole tradition started.

It derives from an old English rhyme, “something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, a sixpence in your shoe." Something old represents continuity in your new life, something new offers optimism for the future, something borrowed symbolizes borrowed happiness that you are taking from brides before you who have had happy marriages and something blue stands for purity, love and fidelity. The sixpence in your shoe(we used a quarter from California) is a wish for good fortune and prosperity.

A very sweet tradition, indeed, but this got me thinking. As I was sitting out the chicken dance at the reception, I pulled out my smart phone and looked up wedding traditions around the world. So while I am still in the wedding zone, let me share some very fun “who knew?” tidbits with you.

1. Queen Victoria started the Western world tradition on the white wedding dress trend in 1840. Before that, brides just wore their best dress.

2. Engagement and wedding bands are worn on the 4th finger of the left hand because it was thought that a vein in that finger led directly to the heart.

3. A groom carries the bride across the threshold to bravely protect her from the evil spirits that might be lurking.

4. The tradition of the wedding cake comes from ancient Rome, where revelers broke a loaf of bread over the bride's head to insure fertility.

5. In many cultures around the world, including Celtic, Hindu and Egyptian weddings, the hands of the bride and groom are literally tied together to demonstrate the couple’s commitment to each other, giving us the expression, tying the knot.

6. In Ireland (I love this one), the presence of bells is very important. The ringing of a bell helps to keep the evil spirits at bay. Irish brides often mix tiny bells in their wedding bouquet and a bell is considered a great wedding gift. It is thought that if a couple carries a bell into married life and keeps it in a safe place at home, they can ring it to stop an argument by reminding them of their wedding day and their vows.

7. Greek brides tuck a sugar cube into their glove because it is said to create a sweeter union.

8. Moraccan women take a bath in milk before the ceremony to purify themselves. I wonder if there are cookies that go with that deal?

See what extremes I go to in order to keep you all informed? I didn’t mind sitting out on a bit of the wedding fun to enlighten you. Actually, I already rock at the chicken dance, so I didn’t need the practice.

Ta Ta for now!

The Fifi Files - Part 1

I totally believe in giving back. If people don't share, the world doesn't go forward. The exchange of ideas and knowledge is critical to the advancement of all mankind. I believe with all my heart that if you possess expertise in any area of learning, you need to pass it on to others and let it filter down through the next generations. It is only through this process that humanity progresses and achieves.

I am dedicating this article to teaching you something that could very well be life changing. It is my honor and privilege to open your world to a subject dear to me, one that I have spent years compiling and testing. You all know that I am regarded as an expert in the field of foundations and intimate apparel. I am constantly educating my customers, readers, staff and anyone who will stand still long enough to listen on finding your proper bra size, how to look 10 lbs thinner and so on. But there is more to Miss Fifi than just knowing nearly everything about undies.

There is a deeper inquisitive side that has sent me on a quest where few have traveled and I am excited about sharing this wealth of information with you. Maybe what I know isn't going to impress any MENSA members or shake up the intellectual community, but I promise you that you will add my findings to your rich bank of knowledge and be pretty excited. Don't worry, what I am about to impart on you is not difficult to absorb. It's not like I have found a cure for a dreaded disease or am a computational biologist or an expert in analytic chemistry. I will gladly leave those fields to others, but I am thrilled to now teach you (DRUM ROLL!!)... 15 Fabulous Things You Can Do With Disposable Coffee Filters. Yes, I said coffee filters. Even if you don't drink coffee, you need to buy some. Good coffee filters are cheap, you get a ton of them in a package and they are made from 100% virgin paper. Ready to be amused and amazed?

1. You can use them to safely clean computer monitors, television screens and windows. They clean without leaving any residue or lint.

2. Place one atop the food you are microwaving. Works better than plastic wrap which is toxic and prevents splatter.

3. A coffee filter works like magic to de-silk corn on the cob. Just dampen the filter and swipe it once over the ear of corn.

4.When packing a sandwich to go, cut the sandwich in half and put both sides together. Wrap a filter around the halves like a taco shell and put in a zip-lock bag. The filter will keep the sandwich from sweating inside the plastic and it will taste like it was just made. I also wrap my celery and carrot sticks in filters before putting them in plastic. They stay dry and are deliciously crisp and fresh tasting.

5.One of my favorite uses is for quick snacks. I grab one, put my pretzels, popcorn or whatever and head for the TV. No dirty dishes and you can control portions.

6. To sprout flower seeds for planting, place in a dampened filter, fold in half and place in a zip-lock bag. It's like a mini hothouse.

7.To remove a spot from clothing, wet a filter with either hydrogen peroxide or white vinegar and rub over stain.

8. Use to wrap up glass Christmas balls for storage.

9.Poke a hole in the middle of a filter and put the stick end of a Popsicle through it. Great for kids!

10. Coffee filters work way better than cotton balls or tissues for removing nail polish.

11. Drain your bacon on coffee filters. They are cheaper and more efficient than paper towels.

12. Make your own bouquet garnis for soups and stews, flavor enhancers when brewing tea or sachets to place in your dresser drawers. Just place whatever spices, herbs or dried flowers in the center. Gather and tie with string in the middle for cooking or brewing and with ribbon for the sachets.

13. Apply your shoe polish using coffee filters. Use new ones to buff.

14. Filter your wine when the cork breaks apart.

15. If you still aren't wowed, take a look at the roses below. They were made for a wedding out of guess what? Coffee filters. Hand dyed with food coloring. Gorgeous.

My knowledge in this area is not just limited to the miracle of coffee filters. Stay turned next week for more tips from Miss Fifi.

View the tutorial Here.

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,

Myth Fifi

Are you superstitious? Someone asked me this the other day and I had to ponder the point. I don’t think I am, but when I started asking the same question of others, I was really surprised by the answers. It seems like most everyone I know has some hinky little ritual they do to bring luck their way or keep out the bad spirits. I got so interested in the subject, I did some studying to try to understand the whole deal about superstitions and lucky charms. Fascinating stuff, I can assure you. Listen up... I think you will be very entertained.

First of all, so I don’t disappoint anyone out there, let’s talk about me. My only brush with good luck coming my way happened last year in Seattle. My sister and I were walking down the street near the ocean happily chatting and window shopping. All of a sudden, a huge mega-ball of bird poop hit my shoulder and exploded down both my front and back. My sweet sister, always my protectorate, pulled anything that resembled a tissue out of her purse and started the massive clean-up. I didn’t get excited, I just looked the other way while she dabbed and swiped at the huge mess on my blouse. I don’t know what kind of bird did the damage, but guessing by the size and trajectory of the deposit, it had to be a cross between a seagull and a 747. Sister did all she could and we continued the short walk back to our hotel so I could shower and burn my clothes. A man who had witnessed the whole episode approached us just to let me know that what happened to me was considered very good luck. I didn’t win the lottery or become internationally famous after that experience, so I am not a believer.

Sports people are very superstitious. For example, Tiger Woods always wears the color red on the last day of a tournament because in his mother’s Thai culture, red is a lucky color. Michael Jordan wore his University of North Carolina shorts under his Chicago Bulls shorts in all his professional games for luck. Tennis star Serena Williams reportedly bounces the ball exactly 5 times before serving. Actually, the sports world in general has a truck load of rituals and beliefs to keep out negativity. Here’s a quick list for my sports enthusiasts:

Baseball: Spitting into your hand before picking up the bat is said to bring good luck. Lending a bat to a fellow player is a serious jinx.

Basketball: It is believed that the last person to shoot a basket during the warm-up will have a good game. Bouncing the ball before taking a foul shot is considered lucky.

Football: It is considered bad luck to take a new number if a professional football player is traded. Double numbers on a uniform are said to be super lucky.

Golf: It is considered unlucky to start the game with an even numbered club. Using a ball with a number higher than 4 is said to be bad luck.

Tennis: Wearing the color yellow on the court is very unlucky. It is bad luck to hold more than two balls at a time when serving. No comment.

Fishing: It is believed that if you spit on your bait before casting it will give you fishing luck. Here’s my favorite... Fish may not bite if a barefoot woman passes you when you are fishing. If she breaks into a run, she probably saw you spitting on your bait. Yuck!

And how about those celebrities? Heidi Klum carries a bag of her baby teeth to keep her safe. Cate Blanchett has her elf ears from Lord of the Rings mounted and displayed on her mantel. She considers them to be very lucky in her career. Television personality Star Jones never puts her purse on the floor because she believes it will cause her to never have money. Hold on, I need to pick up my purse from under my desk. Ok, let’s continue. It is reported that Jennifer Aniston always steps onto an aircraft with her right foot first and then simultaneously taps on the outside of the plane for good luck. Rocker Axl Rose will not do a concert in any city that begins with the letter “M” because he feels that those places are cursed. I read recently that ticket sales for the last Guns ‘n Roses tour were not as good as expected so maybe he added some letters.

Superstitions have been around since the beginning of time and many of them have become things we do naturally. People long ago believed that putting your hand over your mouth when you sneezed kept the devil from entering your body. In case you haven’t heard, the new sneeze etiquette is to turn your head and sneeze into your upper arm. That’s fine, but where does the devil end up? Please write to me if you know.

Do you know why the wedding veil was created? Back in ancient Rome it was devised to mask the identity of the bride on her wedding day and protect her from evil spirits that are jealous of her happiness. Rosemary has been used for centuries to keep witches away. Does it work on bitches, too? Again, let me know.

And let’s not even talk about the number 13. Are you aware that more than 80% of high rise buildings in the US have no 13th floor? Airliners have no row 13 and hospitals have no room 13. Crazy, huh?

If you look up superstitions, you will be amazed and amused what people find to be lucky and unlucky. This craziness has been going on for hundreds of years and it’s getting worse. If you memorized every one of the myths floating around to keep you lucky and uncursed, you would have to have a memory like a computer and you would be afraid of everything. What if you were superstitious, practiced Feng Shui and were respectful of when the planets were in Mercury Retrograde all at the same time? You could drive yourself crazy. Life has enough stress without all this foolishness. Stuff happens the way it’s supposed to and you can’t really change it by hanging garlic around your neck or kissing a frog. I can tell you the frog kissing thing is bunk. No princes at my front door this week.

Here’s wishing you all a lovely fall weekend, my precious readers. I love this time of year and I have a weekend planned that should be quite exciting. Fingers crossed!

This one's for you, Clover.

All Stuffed Up

Sadly, I have now reached the point in my life where I own more items than I can manage. I have always fancied myself as a collector of fine things, but I may be overestimating my belongings. In plain English, I love stuff. Old, new, antique, bright and shiny off the press, I love it all. Recently, I began weeding out my things. I felt that by only keeping what I was using, wearing, appreciating and cherishing, I could make my life better. It only takes catching a few minutes of “Hoarders” now and again to sober oneself up to what can happen when you can’t part with anything.

My possessions are organized, but so much is put away in boxes and cupboards because I only have so many walls, shelves, horizontal display areas and floor space. And then there are the clothes. My closets and dresser drawers can only hold so many outfits, shoes, scarves and purses, yet I still can’t resist buying something new and fabulous, especially if it’s a bargain.

“My first collection started when I was very young.”

When I first began de-cluttering my life, I started with my wardrobe. I went through every hanger and assessed whether I should keep the garment or not. I read somewhere that if you haven’t used it or worn it in a year, you should donate it. That is a lovely thought, but what if you couldn’t fit into it a year ago and you might lose weight next year? The same person also said that you should donate garments to charity if they are no longer in fashion. There’s something very wrong about that statement. What kind of conscience, or lack thereof, would allow you to push your old, dated, out of style clothing on somebody who is trying to upgrade their sad life and start over? Do you really think it would help someone who's down on their luck to show up at a job interview in my discarded M. C. Hammer pants? I am very proud to say that I was able to edit my wardrobe to a reasonable amount and now there is actually room in my closet to slide the hangers back and forth. I was on a roll.

Next, I went through my kitchen cabinets. This journey was bittersweet. I was reminded that a single woman living alone probably does not need every size of Pyrex baking dish, multiple sizes of cake pans plus duplicate muffin tins and pie plates. I am no longer requested to make dozens of cupcakes or cookies for the class party or after the game. I haven’t made a pie since Beyoncé was still part of Destiny’s Child and the chances of me baking a sheet cake during the balance of my life are as remote as me climbing Mount Everest. I boxed up a ton of cooking gear and gave it away. It felt good.

The next part was really difficult. I am talking about my collections. For most of my life I have created collections of certain items. I would collect until I was satisfied that my assemblage was complete and then I would go on to the next thing. Each collection earned a permanent place in my heart and in my home. My first collection started when I was very young. I collected poodles. There were a lot of them left over from the '50s and they were easy to find in thrift shops. I had ceramic, porcelain and glass poodles up the yin-yang. My parents bought me a white French provincial hutch/desk combo so I could display their cuteness in my teenage room. When I left home for college, my former room morphed into a guest room; a very poodle-less one, I might add. My boxed up collection has stayed with me through every stage of my life since, but sadly they never fit into the cool vibe of my first apartment or my first home after I married. I could have put my poodles in the family room, but to be fair, they would have had to share space with bowling trophies, so we compromised and used the space for family photos.

My next fixation was on English tea and candy tins. The designs on them were so beautiful and when I was collecting them, they were very inexpensive. I had a shelf built below the ceiling in my dream home kitchen and displayed my gorgeous tins, mostly from the early to mid 20th century, around the entire perimeter of my kitchen. When the nest was empty and the house was sold, I carefully boxed most of them up and stored them with the poodles in the garage of my much smaller condo.

I have gone through the same exercise with decorative bowls, candlesticks, vintage jewelry and antique linens, just to name a few. When space gets tight, I box most of it up, but display and use what I can. Because I am committed to simplifying my life, I took all the boxes down and started going through them with the intention of culling these collections down to only a few important pieces each.

You know how it is when you start going through stuff, it takes a lot longer than you think because you visit each piece as you pull it out and unwrap it. You remember where you found it and fall in love with it all over again. My middle daughter was visiting that day, and as I joyfully showed off one of my favorite floral tins, these words popped out of her mouth instantaneously: “99 Cent Sale when you die!” Very funny, I thought. So I pulled out a stunning pair of embroidered satin pillow cases from the 1920s. “99 Cent Sale when you die!”, she chirped. I pretended that it didn’t bother me because I know that when I DO die, my girls will be very sentimental and want to keep everything to remember me by. Right?

So the end of the saga goes like this. I couldn’t part with anything. The poodles, the tins, the china... I still have every piece. I pulled out some of my favorites from every collection and placed them around my home. I put everything else in a storage locker nearby. The plan is to rotate my collections like the museums do. It’s worth it to me to be able to touch and feel and appreciate these pieces of the past that each has a story. I feel that I have succeeded because I have much more storage space in my house now and my stuff is very well organized.

Although I always said that I didn’t want to burden my children with cleaning out a morass of my worldly possessions when I die, now I do. I like to consider it a part of the Circle of Life.

So for now, I feel very content. I have honed my material world down to a very respectable amount and passed a lot of really good and useful things on to others.

I don’t know what will happen to all my treasures after I am gone, but for now I love having every item within my reach to love and admire when I feel like it. So there! I hope you don’t find me to be too eccentric or whack-a-doo after this article. Oh wait. I forgot... that’s why you love me!

Be watching for another NEW and hopefully hilarious slice-of-my-life episode next week. And here’s a hint: If there is no article and they run something titled “Miss Fifi, In Memoriam”, be advised that there will also be a completely fabulous 99 Cent Sale going on shortly in Los Angeles.

Talking Dirty

A few weeks ago, I was organizing my utility closet and was astounded by the number of cleaning products that I owned. Honestly, with all the dirt busters that I had accumulated, my house should be spotless.

It didn’t take me long to realize that I was a victim of clever advertising. I had individual cleaners for windows, floors, walls, furniture, sinks, and toilets. I had “all purpose” cleaners, sprays to make my home smell fresh, foams for stains on the rugs, and liquids to clean my jewelry. Besides all this I had bottles and containers of cleansers to remove rust, mineral deposits, dust and grease. And of course, I had special potions for my stainless steel appliances and treated wipes for my granite counter tops. Ridiculous!

I don’t think of myself as a gullible person, but I had succumbed to the clever tricks of those Madison Avenue advertising agencies. Shame on me… I am smarter than that. My mother kept a clean house and all she had was vinegar, Clorox, Comet and Pine Sol. Sometimes she used lemons off our tree for cleaning, but I never paid much attention to what she did with them.

“I got a late start being Eco-friendly... I have some catching up to do.”

As I get older, I really crave a simpler life. I am also quite committed to being Eco-friendly. I got a late start on being ecologically sensible and am only getting credit from the '80s on, so I have some catching up to do.

As I looked at the endless supply of cleaning products I owned, I realized that all of these damn products must certainly not be good for the environment or me. I immediately sat down at the computer to get myself educated. When I learned what was in the products I used to clean, I was shocked. And you know what else? I learned that manufacturers do not have to list certain ingredients if they are part of their “secret formula”. Holy crap! Think of the poisons we don’t know about!

I learned a lot of great cleaning tips. First off, I learned what my mom was doing with all those lemons! Keep reading…

• 1. Use a half lemon and salt to clean even the most heavily discolored brass (real brass, not brass plated).
• 2. The same method can be used for copper such as copper bottoms of pots.
• 3. You can also shine up your chrome faucets or the chrome on older model cars with lemon and salt.
• 4. Diluted lemon juice not only cleans stains from cutting boards, but helps kill germs as well. Rub the juice full strength onto the stain and let sit until the stain fades. It can be left overnight, then rinsed well and dried. I did this on my butcher block and it was amazing!
• 5. Clean your microwave and remove odors. Place a cup 3/4 full of water with a couple tablespoons of lemon juice in the microwave. Heat to boiling. Don’t open the door for another 10 minutes. Then just wipe away food particles with a clean cloth and dry. This one is superb! And when you are done with this task, throw the rinds in the garbage disposal to freshen it up instantly.

The uses for distilled white vinegar are endless. I found great success in using straight vinegar in a spray bottle around doors and windows etc. to keep out ants. I will admit that the house smells a bit salad-y at first, but ants hate it and stay away. I feel a whole lot better about not using pesticides around my grandbabies and pets. Did you know that you can suck out the caustic smell in a freshly painted room by leaving a bowl of raw onions in the middle of the room overnight with the door closed? It works! I kid you not.

I found out that a cup of hydrogen peroxide in your washer whitens whites and brightens brights better than bleach and it doesn’t pollute. I was so impressed.

I am telling you, it was so exciting to get educated, but it wasn’t until I happened on one particular article that my life truly changed forever! I got so into natural cleaning products and living a non-toxic life that I almost bought a pair of Birkenstocks. I am glad I held off, because what I learned next was tailor made for me, Miss Fifi.

Did you know that one of the BEST natural cleaners you can use is vodka? I am not kidding. It is not only the most glamorous cleaning product imaginable, it has no fumes or VOCs ( Volatile Organic Chemicals).

Of course you can use cheap vodka, which makes it a very economical way to clean. It removes adhesives, stains (even red wine), cleans eyeglasses and chandeliers. Just put a towel down beneath the lighting fixture and spray the prisms with vodka. The towel catches the dirty drips and you don’t have to do anything else because it’s VODKA and it evaporates, leaving the crystals sparkling clean. I love it! You won’t believe the way vodka cleans your diamonds. Did you know that those spray products that make things smell better are super toxic? Just put vodka in a spray bottle and spritz your room. It’s fabulous! So there you have it. I hope you don’t mind me talking dirty to you. You are going to save so much money, but more importantly, you are doing it non-toxically.

I do have a question for those of you who have lived a “green“ life for a long time. When all is said and done and the time comes that they measure your carbon footprint for the life you’ve lived on earth, is it OK to wear high heels? Let me know, will you?