Skin care savior

 Remember how when you're a pre-teen and you can't wait to be, like, a teenager and stuff and get to be all grown up, but, instead wake up in fear every morning, because, maybe today would, like, be THAT day that you.... BREAK OUT?!  Sometimes on the bus in the morning, we'd all roll up to Vicky's house, or to Jennifer's, and she just wouldn't be out there waiting for the bus.  Then we'd get to school and in properly discreet and hushed tones, someone would explain that, Vicky 'broke out.'  And I'd stand there all perplexed and think, 'and you get to stay home because of that?'   Well I made it through highschool with a few large annoyingly timed zits, the ones that appear in time for the homecoming dance or the big date.  But overall, it wasn't horrible. Oh I had friends though, who really embodied the 'this world is just not fair' school of thought, because they really had it bad.  But little did I know, that fate was wringing it's hands in delight, waiting for the perfect time to pounce, planning and deliberating and methodically plotting an attack for when I'd least expect it: post - baby, post over-the-hill 40th-birthday...  A HA! Now!    WTF.  I was getting quarter sized welts all over my chin. Zones of full blown acne across my forehead. Nothing like showing up to a meeting, the oldest broad in an office full of fresh faced college grads all vying for my job, with a giant zinger on my nose.  Even better on those days that I hadn't had time to properly dye the gray. Anyhow, so I went to an endocrinologist and begged for help. I expected a diagnosis of a ridiculously high level of some hormone that appears in puberty. (If that were the case, then I'd be sure to get a second chance at double Ds.)  But after a round of tests, all levels were normal. I was told to exercise. My raging non-hormones wanted to stomp stomp stomp and SLAM my door. Then blast some Van Halen from my cassette deck.  I decided I'd get a massage, some acupuncture and a facial, as any smart, sophisticated New Yorker lady would do.   The facialist pretty much told me that everything I was doing to prevent breakouts was what was actually causing them. I hadn't changed my face washing routine since college and had only added on new creams and lotions and potions as I got older, for wrinkles and sun spots etc.   She reduced the entire regime down to this one cleanser: The Clear Skin Probiotic Cleanser.  I wash with that and that's IT.  She also gave me a moisturizer that has witch hazel and chamomile to reduce redness and inflammation.  Since I started using this in July, I can honestly say, I have not had more than 2 zits.  And when I see one started to flare up, I leave a drop of this cleanser on overnight, it absorbs in and the f*&ker is gone.  Take that puberty.  Score: 1 for me and 2 for fate. I'm still waiting on the double Ds.  

At what age should I start a bucket list?

I mean, by starting one now, at 43, does that mean I'll die soon? Or should I have started one at 22 when I had the energy and balls to do stuff like skydiving.  Ok, doubt even at 22 that I would have ever gone skydiving. Man, I miss 22.....

Anyhow, here's a random list in no particular order that I'm going to start and add to and edit and just keep running...
1. get a photo shoot to replace all those times I did have a photo shoot (wedding) or should have had a photo shoot (engagement, baby) when I didn't actually get pictures of myself looking happy, or any pictures of me at all.
2. make peace with the Cleveland that haunts me
3. stop saying yes to everybody and everything. enough of everybody else's shit already.
4. live near my sisters so our children can have sleepovers and french toast for breakfast and us mamas can drink coffee together.
5. be asked to speak on a panel because I'm someone people want to listen to
6. turn at least one homeless person's life around completely.
7. re-discover religion or spirituality.
8. be a better, patient mum. 

Google says that business runs better when there are women on the team. But of course!

Mad Men office supplies

Megan of Mad Men

I have found bliss - in a creamy delicious frozen yogurt bar

Yes I took a picture of the box. You may think it was because I wanted to post on this blog (well, I guess) but mostly it's because I have sent it to the husband with strict instructions to purchase 5 or more boxes of said product if he sees these anywhere. Anytime.

I love greek yogurt. And I love ice cream. I do not however like calories. I don't do much to fight them normally. They usually win while the most exercise I get is from moving from couch to bed, so the fact that this beautiful, creamy dessert decreases the amount of which I need to fight, well then, I couldn't be more pleased. And if I eat the whole box it's only 350 calories!  When I *do* make it to the gym, it will only take me 1 hour to run that off!  Aces! GO get some:  Yasso!  www.teamyasso.com

Awesome. Thanks.

Every time my husband goes away on business something happens. Not anything ultimately disastrous just something enough to mess up the delicately balanced sanity that one needs to grip with white knuckles until he gets home.  Working full time and then starting the second job, the toddler job, when getting home can really rack some nerves. Oh and don't forget the shopping, cooking and cleaning. And when the hell can I wash my hair?!

So this particular trip's fresh hell brought us a leak in the ceiling from the numbnuts kitchen upstairs. Actually the leak was in the electrical outlet. Bubbling, gurgling, with water running under the countertop and raising it up just enough to tilt everything towards the sink.  So the landlord ripped out the soggy ceiling and let wet drywall and black stuff, oh just probably black mold ("spray it with bleach," he says) rain down on dishes and cabinets. Awesome.  So this is my kitchen right now. Did I say awesome yet?  This is the awesome-est.

Red, red wine.

Wow that Prince William married well. Kate Middleton looks like she has a team of handlers and stylists but apparently she does her own makeup and shops at H&M.  By that account, I should look like this when I leave for work too.  Ha ha.