Bank Deposits

Do you know someone who doesn't ever cook because they don't like to clean up afterwards? I know people who never have parties because they don't want to deal with putting their house back in order when the guests have left. I even have a casual friend who only visits her kids and grand kids at their houses because it's "too much work and mess" to have them at her house.

Nobody really minds packing for a dreamy vacation. You put every item in your suitcase with thoughts of the good times you're going to have. Then you come home, what do you have? A heap of dirty clothes to be sorted, laundered and put away.

You can look at life this way or you can look at it MY way. I never mind for a minute the dirty dishes or pots and pans that come with cooking a great meal for my loved ones. I give parties and have get-togethers at the drop of a hat and quite enjoy cleaning up when it's over. When my grandchildren come and stay it takes me weeks to get back to normal after their visit. I find cheesy Goldfish crackers in between sofa cushions and stepped-on Crayons in rooms where no coloring went on, as far as I know. Finding these treasures brings me back to the days when my own babies were running around the house, and I always smile.

Here's how I differ from how most people operate. Whenever I am undoing "the doings" and cleaning up, I am as content as a pussycat basking in the sun. Why, you ask? Because when the fun was going on, I made a huge deposit to my memory bank. So when I'm scrubbing and sweeping or marching the beer bottles to the recycle bin, I am thinking about all that went on, who I got to be with and the memories that I now own and can revisit forever. It makes the work that goes along with having a full life absolutely painless. Enjoying cleaning up the aftermath only takes a good healthy deposit to your memory bank account when you are in the moment of all the fun. When it comes to getting down to business after the good times are over, you can make a withdrawal from your memory bank and clean up is a joy. I always enjoy putting my world back together as a good part of the whole experience because I get to relive and reflect on every bit of fun I had.

This weekend I am facing the Granddaddy of all clean up jobs when the good times are over. It's time to take down the Christmas decorations. I refuse to let it get me down, because taking all the twinkling lights out of my life for another year could be depressing, if I let it. But each time I take an ornament down from the tree I will think about where it came from or who gave it to me before I wrap it and put it away. Every one of my decorations has a history or a special meaning and I get to channel all those wonderful feelings as I put everything away. Throughout the Christmas season, my deposits to my bank of memories are big ones. I get to enjoy most of the people I love in person, follow our family's traditions and spend wondrous amounts of time taking in the joys of the season. My memories are rich and beautiful and I get to visit them again and again as I pack up my decorations until next year. I honestly don't mind the full day it takes to get it all put away.

Your memories are one of the most important things you own. Keep them safe and pure. Bank them and pull them out when you need them. My memories have gotten me through some rough times and always remind me how lucky I am.

Have a happy and healthy New Year to all my beloved readers.

P.S. Before I put it away, take a look at what Fifi's house looks like at Christmas. I can't wait until I am old enough (and crazy enough) to keep it looking like this all year long.

Hello, My Darlings...

By the time you read this, Christmas Day will be over and the last of the Hanukkah candles will have been lit. I hope your holiday was joyful and that you are enjoying these days leading up to the New Year.

I'm writing on this Christmas Eve Eve and the last of my expected Christmas purchases has arrived at the office. I will wrap it and get it under the tree tonight. I definitely have visions of sugar plums dancing in my head. I am pretty proud of myself for having such a good attitude. Yesterday, I drove my oldest daughter, her husband and my 2 1/2 year old granddaughter to the airport so they can spend Christmas in New York with my son-in-law's family. I was upbeat all the way and only cried when I got back in the car. I came back to work only to learn that Joe Cocker had died. Very sad for one of his biggest fans. When I got home, I got a bill in the mail that threw me for loop. I could have let all this get to me, but I didn't. I reflected on the fact that I will indeed have Christmas with my children and grandchildren when my oldest one returns. We have postponed our Christmas, present opening and all, to the day after New Year's Day. It just won't be on the 25th, but it will be Christmas. I also remembered that I got to see Joe Cocker in concert about 7 years ago. He couldn't have been more amazing. And the bill? I will take a big girl pill and pay it.

As I get older, it takes more and more to make me distressed. One of the gifts of maturity is knowing how to manage and sort out things that don't feel good. At the same time, I have come to appreciate things that elevate my good nature and make me smile. A sweet friend of mine gave me the best present recently. She had given the same gift, a special handmade pair of earrings, to another one of our friends and I admired the gift greatly. I may have even whined a bit. I absolutely loved these earrings, so before long I had my own pair. They make me so damn happy. There is something about them that makes me forget when I am feeling sad or bad or conflicted. They are magical. I wore them today because I needed to and since they are really Christmas earrings, I am probably going to have to stop wearing them at some point and go cold turkey. I will find some more magic somewhere else. I always do. That's the trick to staying happy.

I will certainly wear my special earrings on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, which will be very different for me this year. Because one child was away, I encouraged the others to spend time with the husbands/boyfriends family. Whatever happens, it is all good. I think I have this grown up thing down pretty well. It gets easier all the time.

Be happy, healthy and full of love.

Holiday Cheer

I love everything about Christmas. I was one of the lucky ones who had parents who made it into a big deal. My dad would do the lights and they were always perfect. My mother made custom strings out of the old fashioned big bulb variety by using only red, green, and yellow, in that order. All other colors were deleted, so the overall effect was that our very symmetric house with a central path to the front door, looked like a gingerbread house. The bay windows in the living room were the perfect stage for our perfect tree. It was glorious.

Now our tree was another matter. This was long before artificial trees started looking so life- like, so of course we had a real one. This was one of my favorite parts of Christmas, the tree hunt. The standard lots never had the quality of tree that my mother demanded, so we went downtown to the train yards where the trees came in from Oregon. There were wholesale lots with bigger trees than most homes can accommodate. If we didn't find one that was perfect from every angle that was already on a stand, my dad would hop into the train car and start picking up trees and twirling them around for my mother's inspection. It was such an adventure. I loved the smells... the pines, the sawdust on the ground, hot chocolate from the food vendors. I think about those days every year when I unpack my pre-lit Scotch Pine and put section A into B and both into C. It's not the same, but it is so much easier and my tree looks great.

On Christmas Eve, my dad would call us outside to see the blinking red lights in the sky and told us that it was Santa. He had a way of making us believe that Santa Claus was circling around our town just waiting for us to go to bed. Little did we kids know that it was just small aircraft viewing the Christmas displays from the air. We left cookies and milk, and carrots for the reindeer, and went to bed earlier than usual. I remember so distinctly hearing him on the roof. Big footsteps and the sound of bells above my head were so thrilling. God bless my daddy for climbing up the ladder and stomping on the roof and ringing those bells. I always pretended to be asleep when my parents came in around midnight and told us that they were pretty sure Santa Claus had been there. I was usually a little nervous on my way down the hall to the living room. Had I been good enough? Did Santa know about a few things that nobody else did? Would there be nothing there for me? I was always relieved and delighted to see lots of packages with my name on them. My family always opened our gifts on Christmas Eve as it turned into Christmas morning. It was the best.

I believed in Santa Claus way longer than most children. In grade school, when I would come home and tell my mom that some kid told me that there was no such thing as Santa, my mom would say that Santa doesn't come to those who don't believe in him. From then on I didn't mention it much in the play yard. I had a good thing going with Old Saint Nick, because I BELIEVED. When I graduated the 6th grade and was going into junior high, my parents thought it best to tell me the truth about Santa. It was one of the worst days of my life. I cried my eyes out. My mother held me close and told me that believing in Santa when you are growing up is the second most wonderful thing that can happen at Christmas. Second most wonderful? What is the first I asked? It was then that she told me that one day when I grow up and have children of my own, I will then make Santa come alive for them. She was right. That is the absolute best.

The traditions that families create at holidays mean so much as you travel through life. But what about the people who didn't have any of what you and I had? There are so many folks who really don't like the holidays at all. It is painful for them. They think it's all a lot of hooey and over-indulgence. I really believe that it is up to those of us who understand and adore the spirit of whatever holiday you celebrate to pass that along and try to impart some joy. Let's get this hooey and over-indulgence party started!

You can tell these Bah Humbug people from a mile away. They are the first to mention with disdain when the Christmas decorations go on sale in August. They grouse about the gross capitalization aspect of Christmas. They shy away from Secret Santa exchanges at the office and you'll never catch one of them listening to the 24/7 Christmas music station. They came from a different reality and I think it is our responsibility as people who love the holidays to do something about it. This can't be done overnight, but in little, baby-elf steps.

I am going to propose that each of us do one random act of holiday kindness for a Bah Humbugger. It doesn't matter if it's big or small, just start the healing. They hate the holidays because they didn't grow up like we did. They were left out and did without while the world was aglow with Christmas magic. There are lots of great groups out there collecting toys for underprivileged children. It is easy to buy a toy for a child who might not be getting anything. I do that too and so should you if you can. But it's not so easy to hand out a sweet dose of Christmas Spirit to someone who is a sourpuss because it's December. Find someone who wears being a Bah Humbugger like a badge of honor and wear them down with a kind offering. A small gift, something you baked, a bone for their dog, an invitation to dinner... anything that sends the warmth of holiday cheer.

Ok, I will let you go now. There's a lot to do this week. Get those cookies baked, packages wrapped and enjoy this amazing season. And in all the last minute madness, please find the time show some love to someone with a case of the Bah Humbugs.

My Darlings

It's the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and I am all mushy and squishy with thoughts of tomorrow. I am not cooking this year, so it will be a relaxing day for me. I am looking so forward to it. I decided to write you a letter instead of an article this week. You all are so busy with stuffing turkeys and eating and shopping, you wouldn't even have time to read it.

It's that most wonderful time of the year when Black Friday and Cyber Monday are the bookends to 4 great days of shopping for crazy good bargains. I used to be out there at O Dark Thirty with all the other crazies, but I am an online girl for the most part these days. I never want these love letters of mine to sound like a commercial for LoveFifi.com, but I will say we have some great stuff at some stupid cheap prices. I guarantee you will have fun when you are not at the mall shopping for bargain undies IN your undies. Good times!

I wish you everything wonderful tomorrow and always. We should always give thanks for our gifts in this life and there is nothing that brings that home more than being with family and friends. It doesn't get better than being with the ones you love. I will get up when I wake up which is a luxury in itself. I will brew a perfect cup of coffee and sit with my doggies and watch the Macy's parade. It's corny, but it's tradition... and I love tradition.

We are going to a fine restaurant. We started doing this about 5 years ago and it has been great. It's not home cooking, but it is really good. There is no getting up at dawn to stuff a bird, no worries about timing all the side dishes perfectly, no dishes and no mess. There are also no leftovers, so I always cook a turkey breast and dressing at home. I don't buy a pumpkin pie for my house because that would not be wise. I would eat it all and never confess. Only my hips and bottom would tell the truth. I will buy the cranberry sauce with the whole cranberries in it. Nobody else in my family likes that one so now I can be a rebel and NOT buy the jellied one. So I will have turkey sandwiches, which is the best part of Thanksgiving food, if you ask me.

Have a beautiful holiday and get your shopping done. I will be decorating this weekend. I like my Christmas wonderland to be up for as long as possible. It takes me forever to put it up and it takes me even longer to take it all down. It really shoots the hell out of February.

Before I say goodbye for now, I think I will tell you a big secret about me. I may have mentioned it before, but it is certainly in keeping with the spirit of this holiday. When I was 6, my first grade teacher asked each one of us what we wanted to be when we grew up. Without hesitation, I answered "a pilgrim". My teacher smiled and never let on that my dream was pretty impossible. She then asked me why. Again, with great conviction, I told her it was because I liked their outfits with the stiff hats and the big buckles on their shoes. Isn't it ironic that I wanted to wear clothes that covered every inch of skin, yet I ended up designing and selling apparel that doesn't cover up much? My sister has always cracked up every time she thinks about me wanting to be a pilgrim. OK, so I wasn't a big thinker at 6 and it never occurred to me that this wasn't a real job. Still, my sister finds my early aspirations hilarious. This from a woman who wanted to be a mermaid.

Falling In Love Again

I am feeling dreamy right now. Come along with me on the ride. You will love where we're going... I promise. I am deliriously happy and exhilarated right now. I am admittedly high. Have I taken some kind of potion or eaten some kind of wacky brownies? No, no, no. It's October! It's officially FALL.

I am mad for this time of year. Everything about it is fantastic. Considering that I live in Southern California where summer and hot weather hang on for as long as they can, snippets of the fall season to come break through the heat to let me know that my favorite time of year is arriving. Although the temperature was in the 80s yesterday, there was a cool breeze wafting through, starting in the late afternoon. By early evening it had cooled down into the 60s. The night was clear and crisp outside when I sat on my patio after dinner with my last cup of tea before bed.

What is it about fall that intoxicates me so? Let me tell you... you know you can't stop me.

It's the crisp air. It's the delicious aromas of logs being burned in fireplaces when you walk the dog. It's the exquisite colors of the leaves turning and so much more. I am not a big fan of football but you don't have to ask me twice to go to a game with a group of friends. Fall is all about football and tailgating and having a great time. I am actually pretty good at feigning excitement at football games. Even though I never know which inning it is, I am usually eating or drinking something and looking happy. I have had my friends fooled for years.

Speaking of eating and drinking, the food of fall is amazing. Traditionally harvest time, the cuisine turns from summer salads to warm foods that are hearty and robust. Soups, stews and freshly baked bread. Love it!

One of my favorite things about this time of the year are the clothes. I have more sweaters than I like to admit and I just took the bins down from the storage shelves and visited with every pullover and cardigan I own. Soon I will get to wear them and I can't wait. My dogs will be able to wear their many sweaters, too, and they can't wait either. There's something about wrapping yourself in a sweater that feels so special. And pulling on a pair of boots only makes it better. You just don't get that feeling when you throw on shorts, a tank top and flip flops. I'm sorry, but you just don't.

With fall comes Halloween and pumpkins and all that. People are decorating the outside of their houses more and more and it makes me smile. I will be in Virginia this Halloween so I will get a big dose of fall on the East Coast of the United States. It doesn't get any better than that. One of my dear friends who lives on a huge farm is having us to dinner followed by a bonfire and after dinner drinks. Dreamy!

I do love Halloween and it will be fun to experience it so far from home. People who know me know that I am a crazy good gramma and are probably wondering how I could possibly leave my grand babies on Halloween. They are 2 1/2 and just-turned-7. I always buy them their costumes so they are all set. I have already earned my stripes in the Trick or Treating department years ago with my girls, so I won't be needed there. When they are out gathering up goodies, I will be sitting on my best friends back porch sipping wine and listening to Mozart. My babies will FaceTime me in their costumes before they go out with their parents. I will get a slew of fabulous photos of my own little Elsa, from Frozen, and Spider-Man and will be able to share these images with all of Virginia. Everybody wins.

I want to warn the über-intellectuals who read my columns that my next fall favorite might not make any sense to either of you. I love the new Fall Television Season! I look forward to finding new shows to watch on the regular networks. You can't watch cable all the time. I need some drama and comedy to intermix with my regular diet of real life crime and house flipping.

At the top of my list of why I love fall is that soon I can come home in the evening and light a fire. There is something about a crackling fire that soothes me and makes me so content. The only thing that could make it better is if I had a fireplace. Just kidding! I have a great one but I made you laugh.

Mad About America

You have no idea how much I love the 4th of July. It is second only to Christmas in my heart. The way I spend this holiday has changed over the years, but the memories of the past only enrich the way I feel about it today. During the 300 years that I was married, we almost always gathered with the entire family at my in-laws. My precious father-in-law was a WWII war hero (he was awarded the purple heart) and he especially loved having his family around him on this holiday.

We would bar-b-que and everyone would bring something to add to the feast. The best part, however, was that the city where my in-laws lived still allowed the sale of fireworks. We would all pitch in money to buy the biggest, super-duper-colossal box they made. When it got dark, we brought the patio chairs from the back yard and created a makeshift amphitheater on the front lawn. My mother-in-law and father-in–law sat in the best viewing seats like the royalty they were. It was then the job of their 2 youngest grown sons (one of them was my husband) to put on a fireworks spectacular in the street.

You must understand that these are professional guys (a CPA and a Superior Court Judge) who are the furthest thing from being handy that you can be. They didn’t want to look like sissies or idiots so they both had to suck it up and appear oblivious to possible bodily harm if something should go wrong. They would set off one of the fireworks and then run like hell. The squeals and applause from their loved ones gave them a big dose of courage and by the end of the show they were fearless. It was so much fun and it made everyone so happy.

My beloved daddy-in-law spent his last Fourth of July doing this very same thing. He didn’t eat much that day, but he was all smiles when the 2 Stooges took to the street and began the fireworks show. It was a very special day for the kids and grown-ups alike. Six days later on July 10th, we lost him to cancer. Since then the 4th is still a favorite of mine and the whole family. The people in my world continue to celebrate this great country of ours to the max. My sister hosts the day at her house and we have spent weeks and months planning a day to delight. We are turning her front yard into a water park for the kids. We bought a good sized rubber pool, a Slip n’ Slide, a Water wiggle, squirt guns and balloons to fill with water. Everyone was instructed to bring extra clothes as not getting wet WON’T be an option. There will be amazing food and when it gets dark, we will pull the chairs onto the lawn and watch the magnificent fireworks above our heads. Sister knows how much I love fireworks, so she bought a house near Disneyland so I can see them as often as I want.

I am proud to be an American (and I love love love that song). I celebrate this day with all that is in me. Did you ever think about the things that are purely America?. There’s a pretty impressive list, so let me share some of it. How can you NOT be in total love with a country who is responsible for inventing Rock n’ Roll, blue jeans, multi-culturalism, bar-b-que, and the Internet? And if those don’t make you say WOW!... then try these. All are credited with being born in the USA.

Doughnuts

Harley-Davidson

PB&J Sandwiches

Religious Freedom

Antiperspirant

Jazz

Skyscrapers

Coca-Cola

Baseball

Cheeseburgers

Muscle Cars

Cowboys

NASCAR

Buffalo Wings

Country Music

And of course... Apple Pie

Dog Days

Just in case you're wondering, I have pretty much recovered from the plague I had last week. I was sick the entire Memorial Day weekend, but it wasn't bad. I had lots of good quality time with my doggies, who never left my side.

Unless you haven't been listening, you know that I love dogs. Dogs are everywhere in my life and I could not live happily without them. As you also know, we all bring our dogs to work, here at LoveFifi.com, and it is fabulous. We have a big, two story building and the pups are allowed to be wherever they want, with whomever they want. There are dog beds and water bowls everywhere. This is a world I created and I couldn't love it more.

I live a happy life at home with my two babies. I am never lonely because they follow me wherever I go. What's funny is that when you are at the stage of life when your kids are gone, your dogs become your kids. I can't believe I said that, but it's true. Nothing is too good for my dogs. They sleep next to me at night. By the way, 42% of all dogs in the US sleep in bed with their owners. I have little dogs that weigh 5 pounds each, yet they still take up most of the bed.

I know I am perceived by some as a weird dog lady, but I actually wonder at times if I am a little peculiar. I dress my dogs and they look adorable. Listen, if it were odd to do so, then why are there so many places to buy cute dog clothes? Huh? I not only buy my dogs Christmas presents, but I buy gifts for the dogs of my friends. Before you throw stones at me, just know that 80% of all dog owners buy their pets gifts for holidays. And half of that number signs letters and cards from themselves and their pets. So if I am crazy, I am in good company. Speaking of crazy people, did you know that rock star Ozzie Osborne saved his wife Sharon's Pomeranian by tackling a coyote and wrestling it until it released the dog? Ozzie may be a little whack-a-doo to some people, but he is a hero to me.

The most popular names for male dogs are Jake and Max. For girl dogs it's Maggie and Molly. Although there is constant competition for the smallest and the largest dogs, 4" Boo Boo and Giant George are pretty amazing contenders. The oldest dog is said to be an Australian cattle dog who lived to be 29 1/2 years old which is equal to a human living to 160 years old.

My dogs are fantastic company and I couldn't be more content. Oh, I still date from time to time, but the best part of the evening is usually when I arrive home and my two doggies are doing the Happy Snoopy dance and are twirling around madly in circles at my feet. What man can compete with that?

And speaking of men and dogs, let me share something with you that was emailed to me. Made me smile. Oh, by the way, don't smile any big toothy grins around your dog. They interpret a show of teeth as a sign of aggression. Just thought I would share. Grrr...

Anyway, my girlfriend sent me this and I think it's really funny. Don't anyone get offended on me now or I will have to make these articles squeaking Disney clean. Even though I talk to my dogs in baby talk, we are grown ups here in Fifiland. Enjoy.

How Dogs and Men are the Same

Both take up too much space on the bed.

Both have irrational fears about vacuum cleaning.

Neither one will ever tell you what's bothering them.

Both have inordinate fascination with women's crotches.

Neither of them notice when you get your hair cut.

Both fart shamelessly.

Neither understands what you see in cats.

What's Love Got To Do With It?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EVERYTHING

Until next time.

Queen of Hearts

Well, here it comes again… February 14th… the national day of love.

Women have built Valentines Day WAY up. If you could read the letters I get from readers who are fretting over every detail of Valentines Day or worse yet, are worried sick about being forgotten, you would be astounded. You would not believe the angst associated with being someone’s Valentine. And by the way, these letters are never from men. February 14th seems to mean a great deal to the ladies and puts many guys into a cold sweat.

For every man who embraces his role as Prince Charming for a day, there is a much larger number of guys who would sooner choose being audited by the I.R.S. than deal with Valentine’s Day.

So, what happened? I think (and it pains me to admit it) that women are responsible for adding so much stress to this otherwise innocent little holiday.

I recently read somewhere that a group of men were surveyed on questions relating to “amour” and a whopping 38% admitted that they had considered ending a relationship just before Valentine’s Day. That’s NOT good.

Since we girls got ourselves into this mess, it is up to us to set it all straight. It really is our fault. We are victims of our upbringing. Even when we were little girls, Valentine’s Day was a huge deal. Remember the classroom Valentine exchange? The more cards you got, the cooler you were. There was something so exciting about getting that special recognition and feeling the love.

Nothing has changed except that being someone’s Valentine costs considerably more when you’re a grown up.

Can we talk about this? Flowers, for example, are such an extravagance. They are beautiful, but can long-stemmed roses that cost the same as a weeks worth of groceries really bring a person happiness? Yes, if you are a florist!

Candy is nice, but many of us are trying hard to get our fat butts into a swimsuit this summer, so chocolate is not always appreciated.

Every girl dreams of jewelry from her man and every guy sweats bullets thinking abut selecting it. Wait until March and make these decisions together. It will be on sale by then, anyway.

Sexy lingerie, now you’re talking! It’s not because I sell it that I think it is the perfect “love” gift, it’s because I love it and I think it’s magical, that I make it my life’s work. It doesn’t die, it isn’t perishable and you can wear it on February 15th, May 23rd or whenever.

And what if you don’t have someone special to buy you lingerie this year? Well that’s ridiculous... because you DO have someone very special who thinks the world of you. It’s YOU, silly. So go buy yourself something frilly and fabulous, look in the mirror and say “I love you” to that gorgeous creature looking back at you. Don’t let this holiday get the best of you, girlfriend. Don’t forget, you are WOMAN, I can hear you roar!

In The Mood

All you Bah Humbuggers out there can hate me if you like, but I really love the Christmas season. Of course, you must understand it doesn’t officially begin until I hear Jose Feliciano sing “Feliz Navidad” on the radio. It’s my rule and I’m sticking to it. I heard it early this year, before Thanksgiving, so I have been jolly for weeks now. It's so cute... most of my friends and family know how I am about this song, and they call and text me when they hear it.

As I was driving home last night and realized that the “elves” (aka husbands) in my neighborhood had worked hard—under protest, no doubt—over the last few weekends. Millions of lights were strung on houses everywhere I looked. I always get a kick out of how people hang Christmas lights and decorate the outside of their homes. Some houses are a work of art; the lights are planned in a well thought out design with no beginning or end. The bright lights define the structural highlights of the house and garden. Some of these outdoor light extravaganzas are such perfection, if I didn’t know better, I would swear Martha Stewart had something to do with it.

And then there are THOSE houses... you know the ones I mean. Lights of every shape and color are randomly twirled around bushes and beams, some strands barely attached within an inch of their lives to the shrubs and eaves. Sometimes there weren't enough lights to finish the whole front of the house, so the illuminated string abruptly stops as if no one would notice. And even worse, if the last strand is extra long, you will see a fairly symmetrically-done display, but at the end there is a frenetic clump of too many lights on the last bush. It’s kind of like if a cake decorator meticulously rendered every frosting rose and each lacy icing edge and then, just because there was some left, put a big pile of frosting in the corner of the cake as a finishing touch.

To assault the senses even further, these cattywompus light displays almost always seem to include one random string of lights that flash on and off like the sign on a diner that lets you know that they have "Good Food". I don't know why these people bother to illuminate their homes. I wish that there was some kind of law that would prohibit people from vomiting Christmas lights in their front yards. I will work on it for next year.

I really do enjoy the kind of unspoken competition that goes on between neighbors when it comes to the big lawn decorations. Lighted reindeer, Santas, choo-choo trains, candy canes all add fantasyland-like dimension to neighborhood lawns. I just love it, but I wish that people would think more about the “big picture” when placing those bigger-than-life props on their lawns. Some stuff just does NOT go together. If I am wrong, then please tell me this: just which part of Jerusalem is Frosty the Snowman from?

I finished the tree in my living room ages ago and it is GORGEOUS! My kids always tease me because they said my tree is TOO perfect. I was told it looks like a display tree at Macy’s and that I am obsessive about it. I have no idea why having a flawlessly decorated tree with precisely placed, hand blown Czechoslovakian ornaments, and perfectly timed, twinkling crystal white lights is a bad thing. My children say it has no “soul”. Soul, huh? I’ll give you soul. Gorgeous is good enough for me.

Back in the 70s I had this brainstorm of having an old fashioned Christmas tree. I painstakingly strung popcorn and cranberries on long pieces of brightly colored yarn. I made ornaments from acorns and pine cones. I spent hours cutting cloth strips and fashioning a patchwork chain to use as a garland. It was a total labor of love. I will tell you without a doubt that it was by far the butt ugliest tree in the history of Christmas.

Well my darlings... I must go now. I have errands to do. I need to order some sugar plums and pick up my boughs of holly.

Until Next Time.

Miss Traditional

It’s Thanksgiving evening and I am alone for the first time today. I am tired, and ready for a hot bath and pajamas, but first I thought I would write my article. I am filled with sentimentality and warm fuzzy feelings, so here I go.

Okay, I confess, I never really got the significance of this holiday on a historical level. The Pilgrims and Indians thing is way over my head. But a holiday that gets families together and includes pie gets my vote.

I hope you all had a wonderful day with your families. I did. In case you are curious as to what Thanksgiving like at my house, let me explain.

Do you remember the TV show “The Waltons”? Think back on how mom and dad Walton and all the kids worked side-by-side preparing the traditional meal. Every family member did his or her part with a smile. And to make it even better, Dad always had an inspirational story of Thanksgivings past to share as they worked together in perfect harmony. Got the picture?

Thanksgiving at my house is absolutely NOTHING like that.

Are we the only family in America who always has to send someone to the market at the last minute to get some vital part of the meal? You’d think after spending nearly $300 in the first place that we would have everything we need. But not us, we always forget something and find ourselves at the mercy of the only open market in town. Is $14.99 too much to pay for a carton of whipping cream? Let me know.

Dinner is always good, although no one in my family is very good at carving. They need to teach this at university level, because obviously it is not intuitive. It seems to also be a “man” thing, by the way. My CPA brother-in-law did the honors, and though he meant well, the pieces were a bit large to manage. I honestly could have done a better job by simply just backing over the bird with my car, but I didn’t say anything. It was a really wonderful dinner, and though I didn’t think it was possible to use every dish, bowl and platter in the house, we did it.

I wish I could tell you that we entertained ourselves after the meal with the men teaching the young ones how to whittle while the women worked on a quilt, but I would be lying. The truth is we watched football on television. However the most fun of the day occurred when my mother-in-law discovered that her grandson had pierced his tongue. Now THAT’S entertainment!

I am going to bed now. My heart is happy. I spent the day with many of the people I love, and the ones I didn’t get to see today know that I love them and that they live in my heart every day.

I am off to my bath and my bed, but tradition dictates that I swing by the kitchen and make a turkey sandwich. How else would you end the national day of overeating?

Goodnight, my wonderful readers. Goodnight, my precious family and friends. Goodnight, John-Boy.

Sweet Inspiration

You will not hear me whining about Thanksgiving. I really am looking forward to it. I just wish it wasn’t next week.

I am never ready for these holidays on time, but I am trying my hardest to get into the mood. I just watched a cooking show where the French chef made a roast turkey injected with a white grape reduction and glazed with Jerusalem oranges. It was gorgeous. I was so inspired by his creativity.

The thing that tickles me is that somewhere in America, some family will actually be eating that very meal. Someone watching along with me will be inspired enough to recreate that culinary masterpiece for their loved ones. I miss those Thanksgivings of the olden days when I would prepare the feast for my family. Cooking for my loved ones when they were younger was a whole lot easier. Now I have a vegetarian daughter, one that doesn’t eat fowl, one that doesn’t like turkey and a son-in-law that is dreadfully allergic to onions. I can’t cook without onions. So to make a meal for my grown-up children and the rest of my clan, I would have to make 2 versions of the side dishes, a turkey, a roast beef and a Tofurkey. Then of course there are the older relatives who have dietary restrictions. Just shoot me. We’re going to a restaurant.

OK, I got off track... back to the subject of inspiration. To be inspired is a miraculous thing. Inspiration is what gives us the wings with which we can fly and visit our dreams. Oh yes! I want to be inspired and fly, but I would probably get a middle seat.

All kidding aside, I DO get inspired by the world around me, and believe me, I am grateful. It doesn’t need to be complicated or fancy to warm your soul. Just think about pumpkin pie. Does it ever taste better than at Thanksgiving? Have you ever had a slice in July? It’s good, but not the same.

I am not here to deliver a heavy Thanksgiving message. I just want to remind you all about the delicious things in this world that cost nothing and feel so good. If something inspires you like a song, a flower, a sunset... share it with someone. And keep your eyes and ears open when others tell you what rocks their world. You don’t want to miss anything! It doesn’t matter if you are the inspire-er or the inspire-ee. It’s all good.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving and don’t worry if you over eat a bit; I have a warehouse full of girdles, corsets, slimmers and sucker-inners.

Chocolate Made Me Do It

Halloween has come and gone but the remnants of too many “fun size” chocolate bars made me do something on the spur of the moment yesterday. I got up all my courage and went to check out one of those co-ed mega-gyms. It is time to do something about your weight when you take off your jeans and there is a perfect impression of the waistband, the zipper placket and the pockets on your abdomen.

I was nervous about walking in, but I must have been the most beautiful girl in the place, because 3 really cute buff guys fought to have me sit down with them and chat. Hey, ladies, in case you think that there is nothing better than being “carded” for liquor when you are over 45, I can tell you that there is. To walk into a gym and have a guy who looks like Fabio ask you why you are there is pure bliss. I should have said, “because my ass is as big as Texas and if I don’t lose some weight the only thing I will have to wear is my car cover”, but I demurely answered that I was looking to get into better shape to have more energy. It sounded so convincing that I almost added something about an interest in marathon running for good measure, but I was afraid I still smelled like chocolate and he would know I was a fake.

So I signed on the dotted line and went to put on my “workout clothes”. I wasn’t playing. I decided that if I was going to do this, I was going to start today. I then met back with my muscle man for a tour and orientation. He was really nice, but men usually are after you give them a big check.

Tell me this, what is up with everyone else? No one is friendly in those places! There is an aloof attitude that I just can’t explain. I don’t know if it’s the sweat or too much Lycra constricting their brains, but I can tell you that no one was very cordial.

After my fitness god left to pursue another chubby prospect, I decided to try to program one of the machines and get going. The problem is, I wear glasses, but foolishly left them in my locker thinking I probably wouldn’t be doing any embroidery or beadwork while I was there. I couldn’t figure out the digital commands on my machine, so I asked the fellow next to me. You would have thought I asked him to sacrifice 50 –yard line seats at the Super Bowl to help me for 2 minutes. He grunted and groaned and basically set my treadmill at cheetah level when I am clearly just a notch over turtle speed. Well, I DID finally see one of those workout freaks laugh. He was quite amused.

I was actually pretty lost as to what to do, so I just copied others and pretended that I knew what I was doing. Working out is not intuitive to me. I was never into sports except for ice skating when I was young and I was drawn to that sport because the outfits were the cutest. Luckily, one of the trainers took pity on me and showed me around the machines. After an hour, I felt pretty accomplished. I came, I sweated, I conquered! I felt proud.

Well, I survived my workout, showered in some sort of tiled phone booth, put my “civilian” clothes on and headed towards the front door.

Just as I was about to leave, Mr. “Fabio” gave me a wave and said, “See you next time”.

Next time? You mean you have to do this more than once?

This will never catch on...

You Can't Scare Me

October 31st is almost here. I have already done my part and paid $14 for a pumpkin that I will never eat and will pitch in the trash when it starts to decompose and stink. I am officially in the Trick-or-Treat mode.

We are crazy busy here at LoveFifi.com getting your corsets, push-up bras, padded panties, and fishnet hosiery out to you to wear under your costumes (by the way, thank you for your orders…kiss, kiss!). In fact, we are SO busy, that even Miss Fifi is working in the warehouse getting your packages ready to ship. Don’t faint, but I am really not bad at picking, packing, and shipping. I am much better at being queen, but that will have to wait until next week when all the hoop-di-doo is over. As I pack each order (lovingly, I might add), I think about the person who will be wearing the corsets and stockings and all the fun stuff from us that is going into creating their costumes. It's fun to fantasize and try to guess what their costume might look like. I do the same thing at the market when I look at what the folks ahead of me in line are buying and imagine what kind of people they are and what their lives are like. Old ladies who buy 30 cans of cat food, chocolate chip cookies, and the National Enquirer are easy to figure out. You can tell the single guys and health nuts easily, as well. I remember once there was a guy in front of me whose purchases were a bottle of Collins Mix, two limes, and a large container of Draino. I couldn't figure out what on earth was going on at his house. Thank goodness I wasn't alone on this one. When the cashier checked him through and told him the total, he also commented and chuckled that the guy must be mixing up one "hell of a cocktail". It's always good to know that I am not the only one with a sick brain.

I am truly enjoying my adventure in our shipping department and have learned two important things along the way. Number 1: our warehouse supervisor, Christine, is worship-able. The way she runs the place and handles the customers is awesome. She came to us from one of the fanciest department stores in the world, so she knows how to treat people. With her around, you can be sure your order will arrive at your door on time. Thank you, Chris!

And what was the second thing I learned?

Our United Parcel Service man is gorgeous! What a cutie! I loved watching him put all our packages in the truck. Warehouse work has many rewards.

Customer Service just told me a man called this morning and ordered our Belly Dancing outfit over the phone. He spent 10 minutes explaining that it was for his girlfriend. The more he explained, the more we knew for sure WHO would be wearing this outfit. Please, my darlings, you don’t have to explain anything to anyone at LoveFifi. We care only that your purchase will bring you joy. Period.

When my partners and I started this business, we did it with our eyes and arms wide open to our customers. Let’s get this straight once and for all. We don’t care if you are a guy ordering a corset for yourself. We only care that we help you find your size and that you are thrilled when your order arrives. Save your stories, honey. Though amusing, Fifi has been around the block a few times and I know that you didn’t lose a bet with your bowling buddies and have to dress as a woman for a week. The pink bra and panties are for you. So what?

A few weeks ago, a customer wrote to me about the size 2X Maid’s Costume she purchased. She thanked us profusely and then went on to tell us that she has enjoyed watching her husband do housework in it. I had to admire her. She fulfilled not only her fantasy, but mine. A husband that does housework, how divine is that?

Dressing up is good for the soul. Actors know how liberating it is to be someone else, Halloween allows us to live in a fantasy world for just a little while. So let’s do it!

I have to get back to packing now, so I will close for this week. I am ready with my tape and pink tissue and will wrap your purchase personally and blow a kiss to each package as it leaves the building. I know they don't do that at Victoria's Secret, but that's how we roll at Lovefifi.com.

Wishing you all a happy and safe Halloween. Before I go, I am sending you a link to one of my favorite pieces of television. Jimmy Kimmel had parents tell their kids that they ate all of their Trick-or-Treat candy. It's hilarious!

A Stellar Reputation

Do you have any idea who has the very best Public Relations people in the world? As you know, it is the job of PR people to keep their clients’ image clean and pristine and to always have them shown in the best light. So, obviously the answer to my question is not Brad and Angelina or the Kardashians. You can keep guessing, but you won’t get it. For every famous name that comes to mind, no matter how flawless their reputation, there is always something that tarnishes their perfect image. Give up?

Whoever was handling the publicity and creating an image for bunnies did an amazing job. I went along with my son-in-law and daughter to take my 10 month old granddaughter to have her picture taken with the Easter Bunny. ADORABLE! And the bunny was cute, too. It got me to thinking about the reputation of bunnies. I could not think of one negative thing that had to do with them. They are totally cutie patootie in every way. Besides, there is nothing softer on the planet and they don’t just walk... they hop. You can be “as cute as a bunny” or “as quick as a bunny” and it’s a compliment. If you pull a rabbit out of a hat, you have pulled off something extraordinary. My graphic goddess, Miss Nora, has a sister named Bunny. And yes, she is as darling as they come.

Bunnies make you go “ahhh”. I have zillions of little white tailed ones that enjoy nibbling on the grass at my house. There is not a time when I catch them that I don’t stop and take in their adorable-ness and smile.

It was not by accident that a rabbit was chosen as one of the icons of the Easter season. Bunnies are the epitome of cuddliness and completely irresistible with those ears!

The worst dancer in the universe can still join in to do the Bunny Hop. Anything associated with bunnies makes people happy and can make them act silly. See, you just can’t say anything bad about them. I even had a boyfriend in college who called me his “funny bunny”. I loved it.

Bunnies also have a very special significance for me. They remind me of someone I love very much. My middle daughter, Jenni, was always a hard worker in school and later in her career. She was always there to help and was forever putting pressure on herself to make sure she got everything done. When I would ask her, for example, how she was going to finish a project, go to class, finish her homework, and be done in time to come help me cook dinner for the family, she would always give me the same answer no matter how much she had to accomplish: “Magic bunnies, Mommy. Magic bunnies.” Somehow those magic bunnies always came through. Jenni rarely failed at anything and never disappointed. The heartbreaking truth is that we lost Jenni at age 24, in 2009. I have probably told you this before, so forgive me. I do share most of my life with you and this part is still kind of a blur at times.

Bunnies are dear to me for many reasons. I honestly don’t know why I just went to the “Jennifer place” in this article. You all so sweetly put up with my crazy meanderings about this subject and that. I started talking about bunnies and ended up here. Thank you for letting me ramble. And by the way, the next time you have to power through a million tasks and you pull it off like the superstar you are, consider that you might just have some magic bunnies in your midst.

By the way, if you are a mother or a grandmother, you need to buy a copy of The Runaway Bunny. It’s the story of a mother bunny and her baby bunny. It encapsulates everything you ever need to know about the infinite power of mother love. Here’s a little bit... leave it to the bunnies to get such a precious message across so beautifully.

Once there was a little bunny who wanted to run away.
So he said to his mother, “I am running away.”
“If you run away,” said his mother, “I will run after you.
For you are my little bunny.”

“If you run after me,” said the little bunny,
“I will become a fish in a trout stream
and I will swim away from you.”

“If you become a fish in a trout stream,” said his mother,
“I will become a fisherman and I will fish for you.”

“If you become a fisherman,” said the little bunny,
“I will become a rock on the mountain, high above you.”

“If you become a rock on the mountain high above me,”
said his mother, “I will become a mountain climber,
and I will climb to where you are.”

And so the story goes. No matter what the bunny becomes, the mama bunny turns into whatever it takes to keep her baby safe. So sweet!

This is a big week with Passover and Easter. Families will be together and it doesn’t get better than that. I hope you all have times to treasure. Speaking of treasures, check out my 10 month old, Lulu. It’s her first Easter. And yes, I am responsible for the mini ball gown. I am not only her grandmother, I am her stylist.

Stupid Cupid

Valentine's Day. Many of you are looking forward to flowers, candy, lingerie, and LOVE. It’s all so dreamy... or is it?

I hate to be blunt (oh, I don't really, but it sounds nice), but what if you don't HAVE a Valentine at the moment? I don't have to tell you that in life (and dancing), timing is everything.

It can all be pretty depressing if you don't have a "significant other" right now. It's not like you can escape the reminders either...

I was at the supermarket the other day. There were signs and banners all over the store with little cupids reminding me to remember my Valentine. Forgive my stupidity, but what token of my undying love am I supposed to purchase from the grocery store? Let me see... "Darling, I love you. I got you a rump roast."

So, maybe you are in between sweethearts. It can happen. What are you supposed to do? Go into a hole until Valentine's Day passes and all the cooing and kissing are over? I think not. And besides, there is too much good chocolate floating around right now to even think about disappearing.

Don't tell her that I told you, but my sister just dumped her boyfriend. I am actually not sure if she was the dumper or the dumpee, but it doesn't really matter. She’s in a funk.

As it happens, my Valentine is out of town on February 14th, so I am taking this opportunity to teach my sister that being Valentine-less is not fatal.

She suggested that I come over to her house and watch "Wheel of Fortune" and order a pizza. Well, as enchanting as it sounds to eat dinner from a cardboard box and be cooped up with an angry woman and Pat Sajak, I took a big pass.

We are going out to dinner, just sister and me. She loves the ocean, so I have made a reservation at a lovely seaside restaurant. We will dress up and look beautiful. I will make the effort to mention to her how small her butt looks in the outfit she is wearing. If I am struck by lightning as the words come out, it will be worth it to make her happy. We will laugh and dine and do wicked fashion critiques on every unsuspecting person that walks through the door. No one will be safe!

The best part is that since I am her date, she won't have to do her "eat like a bird" routine. Being able to order two desserts without guilt makes up for a lot.

When it is all over, we will have laughed until our faces hurt, eaten up all of our fat grams through the month of April, and spent an evening with someone we love. It doesn't get much better than that!

For any of you who have not yet purchased anything for your special someone, please don't run out and buy something stupid at Walgreen's to try to keep out of trouble. There is nothing there that can save you. What you can do is trust in Miss Fifi to save the day. Go find some decent looking note paper and write your darling one a love letter. In this world of texts and informal communication, a love letter is a rarity. Tell that person in your own words why they mean so much to you. Remind them of special times you've had together. Channel your most romantic self and be generous with your words. When you hand them the letter, tell them that the day belongs to them and you want to do whatever they want to do. No Valentine is better than words from your own heart and hand. Nothing feels better than to spend a day doing whatever sounds like fun. It would also be nice if you bought some lovelies from my site. Surprise her by sending them or surprise him by wearing them. It's all good and I am taking my sister to a fancy seafood restaurant and I could use the money.

Happy Valentines Day!

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.

Seasonal Fortitude or Seasonal Reasoning

Maybe it's just me, but I swear someone pushes a button somewhere and makes the last three months of the year go into turbo mode. Where does the time go? Where does it escape to?

Here's what happens. By summer's end, the Halloween costumes and decorations dominate space nearly everywhere I shop. By the time Halloween actually gets here, we are besieged with everything Christmas.

Why does it feel like I have just disposed of the moldy jack o' lantern on my porch and the next week it is nearly Thanksgiving? Where does the time go? Where does it escape to?

Really, it was just Labor Day and, now, it is nearly Thanksgiving. This year it is coming as early as it possibly can on the calendar, and it sure came fast. I like Thanksgiving, but it also means that Christmas is only a month away. Yes, that joyous time of year is just around the corner... AGAIN.

I love this time of year, but as I get older and crankier, it becomes increasingly more difficult for me to get my butt in gear and keep up with these holidays.

Even though I always grouse about the retailers hauling out the Christmas stuff earlier and earlier each year, perhaps they were doing this just for me! Maybe if I didn’t blow off all these early holiday offerings as crass commercialism, I wouldn’t be standing in lines in department stores on December 21st huffing and puffing with anxiety and plotting the death of the sales clerk who always seems to be using the cash register for the very first time.

This year I am determined to get things done so I can actually HAVE a Christmas. I have always had such contempt for people who boast in mid-October that they have completed their Christmas shopping. Ugh...

In 2012, I am committed to being more organized and I am aiming to get most of my Christmas shopping done in November. This is going to be my “get it all together” month. I will ask for lists from my loved ones this weekend and that will be it. I am going to do it this year. Don’t laugh! I am woman, hear me roar.

No more stressing out. No more wandering around the mall doing what I call “zombie shopping”. That’s when you don’t know what to buy and you are so tired from looking you wouldn’t know a good gift if it hit you over the head. No more running around at the last minute. And absolutely no more wrapping packages with the 11 o’clock News Team. This year will be different!

How wonderful it would be to spend December just doing Christmas things. I want to bake things, I want to go caroling. I want to take my children and grandchildren to see The Nutcracker (even though they hate it). That’s the biggest reason for taking them, by the way. They will squawk endlessly about enduring a two-hour ballet with dancing mice NOW, but someday when I am dead they will tearfully tell beautiful stories about how I took them to The Nutcracker at Christmas. I will sit on my cloud in heaven and smile.

Although I am fairly well known for putting the “fun” in dysfunctional, I am quite sure my family and friends would enjoy not having Psycho Fifi around this year. I know I will love not being her. November is MY month to change the way I do things.

Why don't you join me in my effort to get it all out of the way this month? I know Thanksgiving will be even more enjoyable if I am not stressing about Christmas. Are you in?

And when my friends and family ask what I want for Christmas, I will make it easy as I have already carefully thought it out... I want crazy wild gypsy earrings and world peace. Come to think of it, I don't really need the earrings. I am a crazy wild gypsy already. And as for world peace? Yes, please.

Therapy Or No therapy... That Is The Question

I don't know if you realize this by now, but I find it completely comfortable and ridiculously easy to confess my "sins" and shortcomings to you. It doesn't seem to bother you that I may be a little loopy by other people's standards. Many of you write back to me and tell me that you feel the same way and do the same stuff that I do. I figure that I either have the most understanding and supportive readership in the universe or that I just naturally attract other wack-a-doos like myself. Whatever it is, it works for me.

You already know that I am a bit eccentric. I have not been shy about admitting my deepest secrets. My weaknesses are an open book to you, my darling readers.

You know that I love to dine and am always on a diet. In all fairness, my dieting would be far more successful if it weren't for one thing - I get hungry.

You are well aware that I am very fashion conscious. Would you trust my merchandise if I were not? Fashion is my passion. I am not ashamed.

...what I like most is for my world to be basically divine at all times.

You know that I love animals madly. I am proud that the LoveFifi building has as many doggies as people running around here. Some think this is crazy. I think it’s crazy good. By the way, I do not consider the fact that my dogs have as many clothes as I do a bad thing.

You have probably also learned that I tend to exaggerate, I talk a lot, I love over-doing, and I don't like to do or watch sports. I love lobster and champagne or hot dogs with sauerkraut and a good beer equally. I am not a snob, but I like what I like. And what I like most is for my world to be basically divine at all times. It's a pretty simple concept.

This lifestyle does not come without drawbacks, dilemmas, or for that matter, self doubt. Not all things fabulous come without strings. Sometimes staying in control is difficult and that's why I look to you for help when I think I might be going over the edge.

I want to stop denying an addiction that seems to be getting worse with age, not better. This situation is so multi-faceted and complex. It's way worse than if I were dependent on chocolate or gambling or wine for my highs. This is much WORSE and an intervention may be necessary.

They say that admission is the first step to recovery. So OK, I admit it. I am a "decor whore".

I am not feeling guilty about the items I buy for my home or office. These places are my domains and I cannot be Fifi without proper ambiance. Admittedly, I may go a little overboard on buying home and garden and decorator magazines, but I need the inspiration. But I can't bear to throw them away and end up with stacks of home and garden and decorator magazines that take up space. I did actually buy a self-help magazine that teaches you to organize your stuff, but I can't find it. Anyway, I spend lots of time at flea markets and garage sales, as well as furniture stores and auctions looking for just the right things for my personal spaces. In my own defense, this is the first time in my life that I have lived alone since college. It's not that my 1970s cinder block bookshelves or my grandmother's hand-me-down loveseat weren't grand; they were...at the time. I loved my little place, but now I am a woman and not a starving student. I have a few nickels to rub together to make my spaces pretty and I am proud at how it’s all turned out. Everything around me says "ME" and that feels good. This, however, is not the BIG problem.

Having your home reflect your taste is sexy. What might be getting me into trouble (I depend on you to be honest with me) is that I am an absolute fool for HOLIDAY decor. Whenever I go shopping, my feet seem to move, as if by magic, to the "seasonal" department of whatever store I am in. I just can't seem to do any of my shopping until I check out what's new for the next event on the calendar.

Don't worry, my obsession with holiday-themed goodies won't take me to the poor house but I am worried that the funny farm may be looking for me. I am prudent with my purchases. For example, I made sure that my Halloween decorations transition seamlessly into a Harvest Festival theme after October 31st. My fantastically orchestrated sprays of autumn leaves and twigs take me right through until after Thanksgiving. The witches and ghosts go away and the gourds and ears of multi-color corn appear. This is normal behavior, right? I am only asking because no one would say a word if I still had a house full of kids, but I live alone with two poodles.

This issue is heavy on my mind because the hardest time of year for me is here. Christmas decorations are everywhere. What actually inspired me to write to you for validation of my sanity was that the other night I was struck by a huge thought when I pulled into my garage. Is it strange that a woman who lives by herself should have more than half of her garage designated to holiday adornments? Granted, most of that is Christmas, but I have at least one bin each for the other holidays. I don’t do sports, so there are no golf clubs or skis to take up room. I have to fill my garage with something, right?

As I exited my car, I was still feeling guilty about the massive amount of holiday falderal that I own. Thankfully those thoughts were diverted as I got involved in carefully removing my new gold painted paper mache reindeer from the back seat. It was right there, at eye level, at my drug store as I waited to drop off my prescription. I swear he winked at me and said “take me home”. He will sit inside my front door and greet people with all his golden majesty during the Christmas season. I am only telling you this so you will understand that this purchase was a necessity and not an extravagance. I did it for my guests and besides, he is way too gorgeous to live another minute at Walgreens. Let’s just think of it as a paper mache reindeer rescue.

So, there you have it. I held nothing back. Tell me what you think. I can take it.

Before you decide, let me stress that the things I buy are beautiful and give me joy. I figured out last weekend that I wasn’t completely out of control when I walked by Christmas pillow cases, hand towels, and pot holders and winced. I had absolutely no interest. Who buys stuff like that anyway? None of it sparkles, for goodness sake.

You know, this whole love affair with holiday decorations might be my parents fault! When I was a little one, they always took me downtown to see the Christmas window displays at the big department stores. I would look through the glass in amazement at the brilliantly lit animated displays. There was always the sound of music box Christmas songs accompanying the magic. I stood there endlessly and wished I could live in that twinkly enchanted wonderland at Christmastime.

And now I do…