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.

Nap Dance

I just returned from the most fabulous road trip vacation. My sister did all the driving and I was the navigator. It was all so perfect, yet I returned home completely exhausted. One of these days I am going to go away and do nothing but relax, contemplate my navel and return home revived and refreshed. I was pretty stymied as to why I was so dog tired when I got home. I honestly did nothing but have a wonderful time. We got up when we wanted and we did our sightseeing at our own pace. No pressure. No place we had to be at a certain time. Our biggest decisions each day were what we felt like eating and what we felt like seeing. Life was aimless and mindless and delicious, yet we came back feeling like our Cousin Clint’s 18-wheeler had run us over. We saw him and his lovely wife, Millie, on our trip and it was the best. Clint is an avid reader of my articles and I am so grateful to him for his love and loyalty. It feels so good to have a fan even if he is a relative. He doesn't have to read this stuff at all and he does!

Anyway, Sister and I returned on a Friday and even though I had fully intended to unpack, do laundry, catch up with the mail and try to explain my absence to my traumatized dogs and give them quality time, I only got the latter accomplished. It was then that I realized why I was so freaking tired. I had gone nearly 2 weeks without a single nap. Yes, I nap. When I got divorced and started my life as a single woman, I discovered the true bliss of napping. On a typical Saturday I would rise early, get my chores and errands done and when I arrived back home in the early afternoon, there were these two furry babies waiting at the back door for me. They had their "where in the hell have you been?" sad faces going on. I learned a long time ago that the best way for me to make it up to them for being gone for 4 hours is to head for the bedroom for cuddling time. I would fall off to sleep and they would guard me and keep the flying monkeys away. It was heaven and when I awoke in the late afternoon, I was a new Fifi. I could hit the ground running and actually have a night life. What a revelation this was. What a life changer! Before this cathartic moment, my last nap was on a mini cot in Mrs. Gordon's kindergarten class. Funny how something that used to seem like punishment when I was 5 is a guilty pleasure as a grown up. I have to thank Twinkie and Beau for showing me the way.

If there was a Pro-napping Movement, I'd be at the front of the parade. This habit has completely changed this girl and made it very clear that I need my naps, even on vacation. We had fun non-stop on our trip, but I didn't get one nap in along the way. I couldn't doze while Sister was driving; that wouldn't be fair and plus... I had a job to do. I was the navigator, the DJ and the one in charge of opening the Cheese Doodles. And if I WERE to fall asleep, my sister would have nudged me and told me that it was OK because she was planning on taking a nap too... without stopping the car. It's kind of our little joke.

The practice of napping isn't just for babies and geezers anymore. Presidents of the United States and captains of industry have long ducked out into private quarters for a mid-day nap; they just fancied it up by calling it a POWER NAP. I must admit that when I plan to stay late at LoveFifi.com, I sometimes sneak off to my private Fifi cave and grab a little power nap. The best part is that I have fantastic support from some of the most important members of my company. See Below.

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.

Heartstrings

Usually, saying funny things is second nature to me, but not today. I have taken the death of Robin Williams pretty hard. My friend Laine posted this on Facebook and I think her sentiments are perfect. “I feel like I have lost a family member”. When famous people die, I think we all think about what they have added to the world and feel sorry for their families. But for me, this has been a tough year.

When Maya Angelou passed away, I was saddened because I really love her. She gave me so much through her writing. I took comfort in the fact that she lived a long, rich life and worked until her body just gave out. To me she is one of the greatest philosophers of all time. I quote her often and find constant strength in her words.

She is sitting on my shoulder when I write. I am in no way comparing what I write to what Maya has written... that would be like comparing Shakespeare to the guy who writes blurbs for inside fortune cookies. But she set me free a long time ago, to say what was on my mind, to be proud to be a woman with a voice, and to be kind. She also didn’t trust people who didn’t know how to laugh. But the best thing about Maya was the insightful way she viewed life. She gave the world so much. She gave me unmeasurable amounts of wisdom that are now a part of who I am.

“People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel”. “I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles 3 things. A rainy day, lost luggage and tangled Christmas tree lights.” - MAYA ANGELOU

Losing James Garner last month had a different kind of sadness for me. My daddy loved him. Watching the Rockford Files as a family was a big deal. My dad always said that James Garner was a man’s man and my dad was one too, so he would know. For anyone who saw his last acclaimed piece of work, The Notebook, Garner’s portrayal of a man in love with his ailing Alzheimer’s stricken wife was heart wrenching and beautiful. If you didn’t know, James Garner was married to the same woman for 58 years in real life. He also marched with Martin Luther King in the Jobs and Freedom March in 1963, when his acting career was in full swing and he had a lot to lose. And if you aren’t convinced that he cared about his country and its people, James Garner fought on the front lines in Korea, was wounded twice and was awarded two Purple Hearts. A man’s man and a woman’s man all rolled into one. His passing made me miss my father so much more.

And now Robin Williams is gone. From the very first time I saw him on Happy Days, I was in love. His wack-a-doo quirkiness as Mork was intoxicating. Robin was an incredibly funny stand-up comedian, but he gave something to acting that it had never seen before. Because Robin was such a genius ad libber, his prepared dialogue in his movie scripts was often abandoned because what came out of his mind and then his mouth was so much better. Brilliant doesn’t even begin to describe this man. He was a giver. He was one of the brains behind Comic Relief. The out pouring of love and heartfelt sentiments from the world prove what he meant to so many of us.

I was lucky enough to see him perform twice. About 20 years ago I was at the Improv in Hollywood and he stopped by to do an impromptu set. He was hilarious and adorable. But the best was when I went out to wait for my car at the valet; he was waiting, too. There were a dozen people there so I didn’t have to worry about making conversation, but it was exciting to be so close to someone I idolized. The second time was when I saw him perform live at a fundraiser a few years ago. He was on stage for over an hour and my face hurt from laughing for days afterwards. It was fabulous. From what I know, people always depended on him to help raise money for worthy causes.

It is hard not to think about how he left this world. He wasn’t almost 90 like Maya and James. He was in tremendous pain, emotionally. I have no idea what depression feels like, but I know what it looks like. I have a daughter who suffers every day from either being depressed, anxious or not liking the feeling of being on mood elevating drugs. She is working hard to overcome it, but it is extremely hard. She was the one I heard from first when the news of Robin was announced.

It is my hope that in his death, there will be a new awareness and understanding from people who don’t comprehend how overpowering the sadness can be for the people who struggle with mental illness. I hope great strides are made in his name and in his memory. For now, I am clinging to remembering him for being a comedic genius, stellar actor and unselfish humanitarian. I don’t have to say much because the tributes to him as a talent and a man are pouring in from all over the world.

Forgive me for not being funny today. I am just not feeling it. If you are still reading, thank you for sticking this out with me. I am going to Las Vegas on a buying trip. The big garment shows are there next week. When I come back, I shall be filled with humorous tales about Sin City. It’s the greatest people watching place in the world. And, lucky me, I get to go to a trade show on my birthday. I guess there is an age when your birthday is not a big deal, but I haven’t reached it yet. Have a great week.

Hello, my darling readers...

I am sitting here at the computer contemplating jumping out of the window onto the street below. Ultimately, I'll abandon the thought since my office is on the second floor; I would only be maimed.

I just wrote the funniest article about something that is going on in my life. I read it out loud to my sister/assistant and my graphic design goddess. It made them laugh out loud and they both know it is all true, so it's even better.

I was sending the document to the art department and even though I saved the damn thing, I evidently pushed something and poof! It disappeared. A little while ago, after much trying, it was deemed irretrievable by the IT department.

I am so sad because I love writing for you each week and this was an especially good one. From now on I will print out what I write before I attempt to send it electronically. I am not crazy about computers and they feel the same about me. I am so sorry. I made some notes and I will try to re-write it for next week.

I know we all make mistakes but this one really hurt. You are now stuck drinking a good cup of coffee and reading this pitiful letter instead of a funny article.

The great philosophers have written much about making mistakes.

Alexander Pope's line is probably the most famous.

"To err is human, to forgive divine."

You do forgive me, right?

Winston Churchill wrote,

"All of us make mistakes, but only the wise learn from their mistakes."

I learned... I promise you.

But I think it was one of my favorite comedians, Ron White, who said it best.

"You can't fix stupid."

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!

Vegas, Baby!

I am excited about this weekend. My favorite niece is getting married to the man of her dreams (and our dreams, too). He is a doll and we are thrilled to be going to watch the magic happen. These two kids fell in love 6 years ago and have been separated by 3000 miles for at least half of that time. They were each married before and their first responsibilities were to their children, so they suffered through a long distance arrangement and saw each other as much as they could. The stars finally aligned in their favor and they now live in the same city. Saturday is the wedding in Las Vegas and it is going to be fabulous.

They decided to have the wedding in Vegas because they wanted everyone to have a ball. They don’t want wedding presents; they just want the people who love them to be there. It’s going to be wonderful to see these two families become one big family. I will see friends and relatives that I haven’t seen in ages. Because it is Las Vegas, the fun and craziness will probably continue around the clock. You either love or hate Vegas. There is really no in between. I love it.

Las Vegas, Nevada is a pretty interesting place. Did you know that there are approximately 15,000 miles of neon tubing that light up the strip and downtown? Yep, and of the 20 largest hotels in the world, 12 are in Las Vegas. The largest hotel in the U. S. is the MGM Grand. It is also the 3rd largest in the world.

There are over 200,000 slot machines in Las Vegas. More than 60% of all gambling revenues come from the slots. I do my part, I can tell you. The largest slot jackpot ever won was at the Excalibur Casino and was just under $40 million dollars. Lovers love Las Vegas and have made it the wedding capital of the United States. The average number of weddings performed per day is around 315. Plenty of fun will be had this weekend. I can’t wait. There is nothing I like better than mayhem and foolishness. I will be a good girl as I am kind of a junior matriarch in this crazy family of mine. Although it is said that “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”, it does not apply to my family. Our motto is more like “what happens in Vegas will be posted on Facebook faster than you can say Elvis Impersonator." I will behave myself.

Rich Girl

I never told you, but I am rich. I don’t have tons of money, but I do have some of the best jokes and funny sayings in the world rattling around in my head. I have such respect for all things clever that when I hear something good, I always remember it. People think I am a fabulous conversationalist and quite hilarious because I love to slip in these pearls of wisdom whenever I can. You see, I have the whole world writing my material for me, so how could I sound anything but brilliant?

I have a collection of great “one-liners” that I pull out of my mental filing cabinet. I have no idea who really came up with these gems, because if I did, I would give them due credit. But since most of my favorites are author-less, I will just share them so all of us can enjoy and LAUGH and feel good. Socrates and Plato were great philosophers, but some pretty great stuff has come from just regular folks like us.

• Some days are a waste of make-up
• Learn from the mistakes of others. We can’t live long enough to make them all ourselves.
• If you are too open-minded, your brains will fall out.
• Age is a very high price to pay for maturity.
• If you must choose between 2 evils, pick the one you’ve never done before.
• If you look like your passport picture, you probably need the vacation.
• Bills travel through the mail at twice the speed of checks.
• A conscience is what hurts when everything else feels so good.
• Men are from Earth, Women are from Earth. Deal with it.
• A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand.
• There is always one more idiot than you counted on.
• Experience is a wonderful thing. It enables you to recognize a mistake when you make it again.
• By the time you make ends meet, someone moves the ends.
• Junk is something you’ve kept for years and throw away three weeks before you need it.

Are you smiling? I hope so. Did you know that humans are the only creatures on earth who can laugh? It's true. Do it often

This Little Fifi Went To Market...

There is probably no task that I hate more than going to the grocery store. If I ever win the lottery, the first thing I will do is hire an assistant that goes to the market for me.

When I was raising a family, I took food shopping much more seriously than I do now. It was part of being the mama lion and nurturing my family and nobody did it better than I did. I used to shop with a shoebox full of carefully catalogued coupons. I was constantly clipping the cents-off coupons from every magazine and newspaper I could get my hands on.

On marketing day, I would spend hours going up and down the aisles stretching every dollar as far as I could. I often filled up two baskets to the brim. At the end, I turned in all my coupons and tried to guess what my savings would be. It was a game to me and I was good at it.

As I stood by the open tailgate of my “mom van” (yes, I had one of those, but please keep it to yourself) and watched the box person load bag after bag of discounted grocery items, I felt such pride. I stood there clutching my yards of register tape as triumphantly as if I had just won an Oscar.

I would spend hours going up and down the aisles stretching every dollar as far as I could.

Grocery shopping was a huge deal back in those days. It took the better part of a day to accomplish and you had to have an unstoppable rhythm. I also learned early on that your success as the household shopper had to have a set of stringent rules.

Rule #1 - You NEVER let your husband go with you. Despite the fact that he is good for any heavy lifting of 50lb. bags of dog kibble or the ginormous size laundry detergent, there is no amount of budgeting and coupon clipping that will offset what he sneaks into the basket. It does you no good to scrimp and save and wait for double coupon day, if you end up with garlic-stuffed cannonball olives, an extra large bag of beef jerky, and Macadamia nuts carefully concealed and then revealed at checkout. Men can’t help it, so leave them at home.

Rule #2 - Never ask if anyone needs or wants anything. When you shop with coupons and are a slave to sale items, no special requests. They get what’s on “special” and the fact that someone else is filling the cupboards for their eating pleasure is special enough. Let your family know not to fall in love with anything you bring home, because they might not get it again.

Rule #3 - If you are shopping for a lot of people, it’s a very tiring job. I believe that the shopper is entitled to at least one food favorite as a reward for all their good work. I love Fig Newtons and tried for years to find a hiding place that no one could discover. I sucked at it, because when I was ready to relax with a cup of tea and some Newtons a few days later, I would go to the hiding place in the kitchen to find an empty Nabisco package. Kids and husbands have food radar. I should have hidden them behind the ironing board or behind the folded sheets in the linen closet. Not a chance anyone in my family would have found them. You live and learn.

Those days are all behind me now. It’s just me and the dogs. Although I haven’t clipped a coupon in a long time, I still hate going to the store for a whole different reason. Now instead of calculating how much I am paying per ounce to get the best bargain, I calculate if I will be able to eat it or use it before I die.

I usually only make myself go to the store if there is nothing for my dogs to eat and/or there is no creamer for my coffee. Once I am there, I am THERE, so I just move down the aisles as fast as I can. There are no bargains for people who live alone. I don’t need a multi-pack of anything and I don’t want to carry it. I get the essentials, fruit, vegetables, English muffins, milk, eggs, Brie, wine, etc.

Nowadays you bring your own bags for the groceries. I am grateful I did the family shopping in the paper or plastic days or I would have to have brought a complete set of Samsonite. I keep my purchases down to a minimum because I like the convenience and speed of the 15 items or less lane. Nothing aggravates me more than people who abuse this. Often times there is still a line but I keep myself occupied by counting exactly how many items each person puts on the conveyer belt and plotting their death if they go over. It’s not the healthiest thinking, but it keeps me completely amused until it’s my turn.

By the way, don’t ever get talked into doing Self Checkout. It’s some kind of trick. First of all, it’s not that convenient or easy. The people who do it easily think they are so cool; they really think they are brilliant. If you look befuddled or don’t go fast enough, the Self Checkout “associate” comes around and flippantly pushes the start button and shows you how to swipe the bar code and then disappears. You start off fine and then you make the mistake of touching the bag at the wrong time and get scolded by some automated voice. I tried to do this before, but if you don’t do it quickly, the guy behind you in the flip flops with a 12 pack of Corona gets antsy and makes you nervous.

The last time I tried to do this, I bought some produce that was missing its sticker and I didn’t know how to continue. Out of nowhere comes the “associate” to help. I don’t know where the Self Checkout helpers fall in the hierarchy of grocery store employees, but these are not happy people. I described my produce problem and she gave me a look that clearly said “Moron!”, shrugged her shoulders, and pushed me out of the way. She made a clicking noise with her tongue while rolling her eyes in disgust. Then she whipped through several screens, pushed too many buttons and asked me for my debit card. She “helped” me complete my transaction and gathered up my bags abruptly, handed them to me and motioned towards the door. Then that brat actually told me to “enjoy the rest of my day”. If I was going to clean the garage for the balance of my day, it would be much more enjoyable than my experience with those people in what I now fondly refer to as “Self Righteous Checkout”.

I think I have let off enough steam for one day. Now I shall go relax with a nice cup of tea... and Fig Newtons.

PETER PAN-demonium

Some days being a grown up is way too complicated. Don’t misunderstand, I have never yearned to reclaim my youth. The truth of the matter is that when I was young I unfortunately refused to take good advice from the wise or learn by the mistakes of others, so an offer to go back in time and suffer from stupidity AGAIN does not turn me on.

But honest to goodness, there are days when it would be so great to be a kid again. When you are a grown-up, it is kind of expected that you are a bit invincible. You are supposed to be able to field any comment from another person with grace and without getting your feelings hurt. It is assumed that a grown-up will be logical and calm and have their wits about them at all times. Overwhelming disappointment is brushed off or put on the back burner before any tears have a chance to well up. That’s the grown-up way, yes indeed-y.

I don’t want to be a child again. There are way more minuses than pluses on this one. I don’t want a bedtime, or school uniform, or math homework. I wouldn’t ever want to relive the worry and fear of being the last one chosen when teams were being formed. One of the best things about being an adult is that you don’t have to fret about being asked to the prom or getting a D or any of that stuff that seems so earth-shatteringly important when you are growing up.

No, I don’t want to go back to “more innocent times”, but damn... I wish I could visit once in a while. When I have to be brave, I always say that I need to take a big girl pill to get the job done. Why can’t there be a pretend pill that allows you to react like a kid? You shouldn’t be allowed to use one often, just for those times when being all grown up is simply not satisfactory. And if someone should happen to mention that you were acting childish, you would know that the pill worked perfectly.

“I don’t want a bedtime or math homework, but there are days when it would be great to be a kid again.”

Occasionally, reacting to painful things like you were 7 years old would come in so handy. For instance, when you whacked your head on the kitchen cabinet hard enough to see stars or stubbed your toe on the bed frame fighting with the duvet cover. Wouldn’t it be cool if it were OK to cry when you got injured, no matter how old you are?

If you could be a child once in a while you wouldn’t have to “suck it up” and act like it doesn’t hurt even though it really does. Grown-ups cover up emotions like a paralyzing fear of spiders. I don't have arachnophobia, but I can sense the fear in others. If a giant spider showed up and other people were around, I would turn into freaking Indiana Jones so they wouldn’t be afraid. It’s funny, some of the strongest people I know, are terrified of spiders.

It would be so good for one's mental health if you could be childish every so often without losing points in the mature world. Think about being at work at a big meeting. If things weren’t going your way, instead of endless tense words and angry debating, what if you could just get up and kick the other guy in the shins and shout “I hate you!” AND it wouldn’t count against you in corporate America?

And what if you don’t get to do something that you have planned and dreamed about? How liberating it would be to indulge in what I think must be the Holy Grail of going back to your childhood... throwing a tantrum.

If someone or something broke your heart, wouldn’t it help to pound on the floor with your hands and feet and scream your lungs out? I will confess I did just that the other day. It felt marvelous and I would highly recommend it to anyone, with the caveat that you don’t do it at Target like I did. It was really no big deal in the end, because just like usual on a Target trip, no one came to help me.

I feel so much better now that I have talked this over with you, my dear readers. I am going to go now and have a glass of champagne and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I have always found that compromise works best for me.

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.