I have a reputation as cool. I dress cool, you know, torn jeans and crop tops. I listen to — and like — rap music, and when my husband asks, “Who’s that guy?” about the latest musical guest on Saturday Night Live, I always know. (Well, almost always know.) And my writing students at the local university journalism school give me rave reviews as “understanding,” “helpful,” and “fun.” Read more
It’s mid-March, and I’m in the middle of multiple muddles … all of which strangely begin with the letter “S” … sleep, spending, and scents.
First, I completed my monthlong No Personal Spending pledge. Hooray and hurrah! I did it. More precisely, I didn’t do it.
I make not one single impulse purchase during the entire month! No red Keds, no silly snow cone-scented(!) earrings, and no new dreamy, buttery soft sheets in buttery yellow.
It was surprisingly difficult to keep my wallet in my pants (a-hum) and my finger off the “buy now” online purchase button, but I succeeded. It was a fascinating exercise in self-control, one shop-aholic me sorely needed.
For a long time, as in years, I’ve been telling myself that I don’t do that much impulse shopping, that I don’t spend that much time online shopping, and that I don’t spend that much on frivolous little purchases, but I have to tell you that the end-of-the-month credit card statement tells a different tale.
You can read about my No Personal Spending Pledge journey here.
I’m on Week 4 of my Inspire-d sleep apnea device journey. As regular readers of this blog may recall, I have sleep apnea big time. Yet, I cannot tolerate wearing that infernal CPAP mask. So, on December 8, I had the Inspire sleep apnea device surgically implanted. The device stimulates the tongue muscle during sleep, which prevents it from blocking the airway.
Six weeks after the surgery, I was “turned on.” More precisely, the device was turned on. Each week, I increase the strength … the frequency … (the whatever) of the tongue-darting implant does. (Aren’t I the tech-savvy one?)
Inspire “seems” to be helping. It’s too early for me to offer you a full-throated (full-tongued?) endorsement, but I do seem to be sleeping a little longer and a bit better. I’m not bouncing around, wrapped in full-on energy and joy, but I’ve got a grip on my over-eating, one of my big bad “tells” for being tired. And also, in the interest of embarrassing but full disclosure, Handsome Hubby, who alleges I snore (I hotly deny this, of course), says I am sleeping/breathing quietly, which is good for both of us.
So, fingers crossed, maybe this sleep apnea device will offer sleep salvation!
For some, Spring heralds the start of allergy season. For others, like me, the entire year is a sneeze/itch-a-thon.
One of my most tedious allergies is to fragrances. It’s a shame. I used to love perfume, but for decades, I have become increasingly sensitive to smells. It’s now so bad that I get instantaneous headaches when I walk through makeup counters in department stores.
Worse yet, if I sit next to someone in a theater or a lecture who’s wearing perfume, I start itching, and my head starts pounding. Just this month, that’s happened twice! Both times we had to change seats.
So, ladies — and gentlemen — please be sensitive to scent sensitivities. If you’re going to attend an event where you’ll be in proximity to others, please consider the possibility of allergies. I know it’s a bummer to forgo perfume if you love it.
My late mother was a perfume queen. I cannot imagine how she would have felt if I had to tell her to skip the spritz! But still, I know she would have been kind.
Anyway, that’s my story — at least so far this month. Gosh, I really am Muddling through Middle Age these days!
You’ve heard of Dry January, of course. Well, I’m no drinker, but I am a shopper, an excessive one. So, to get control of my out-of-control impulses, I’m conducting a bold experiment. For the entire month, I’m “on the wagon.” I am not buying anything I don’t truly need. In fact, I’ve made a No Personal Purchases Pledge. I’m still getting groceries and household goods, but if an item is a mere “want” versus a legitimate “need,” I cannot open my wallet or hit the “buy now” button on the computer.
You would think it would be easy, but I’m jonesing, jonesing big time. My need for instant, gimme, gimme gratification is strong. I look out longingly as I see Amazon delivery trucks drive by without stopping at my door. I fight the urge to wave at the UPS and FedEx drivers as they pass. “Remember me?” I wonder.
In the former heady days leading up to the holidays, I shopped until I dropped in stores and online for gifts and for myself. If I saw a new nail polish color I liked, I ordered it without hesitation, and since free shipping requires a certain minimum purchase amount, I always bought a couple more. If I saw a sale for a favorite brand of sweaters, one or two would instantly go into my online shopping cart. Round and round I spun on my perpetual personal shopping merry-go-round.
Ten minutes before this self-imposed moratorium was set to begin at midnight on February 1, I fought the urge to jump up and make a last-minute purchase. I resisted, but barely. I did, however, start a “Wish List” complete with web links, and each day that list grows longer and longer. (Is this cheating?)
Today is Day 18 of my No Personal Purchases Pledge, and the struggle intensifies. Clearly, I am a materialist pig baby! To punish myself, each time the urge to splurge hits, I walk up and down a flight of stairs in my house. I think I’ve climbed the equivalent distance of the Empire State Building!
And what is on the Want but Must Wait List, you may wonder? Mostly silly stuff — a pair of red Keds (What am I? Ten years old?) and a pair of scented Snow Cone earrings! Why I want those earnings, I cannot tell you — above and beyond, they are ridiculously cute and also, just plain ridiculous. Now, what makes no sense about me wanting to buy scented earrings is that I am highly allergic to perfumes.
Just last night we went to a concert. We had the proverbial best seats in the house. All was grand until mere minutes before the program started, a woman sat down next to me, reeking of perfume. Within seconds, I started itching and sneezing and getting a massive headache. We had to make a mad dash to the ticket box to request different seats. So, snow cone scented earrings? A nonsensical non-starter at best!
I also have developed an urge for early American blues recordings, and by early, I mean, 1910s-1930s. This is because I’m reading a fabulous book, Do Not Sell at Any Price: The Wild, Obsessive Hunt for the World’s Rarest 78 RPM Records by Amanda Petrusich, which explores the wild, competitive culture of devotees who search for prewar blues, jazz, and country 78 recordings. I don’t want to track down the elusive shellac recordings. I’ll be content with the CDs or digital versions, but even they are hard to find and are expensive!
So, as you can see, it is probably a good thing — a very good thing that I have put the brakes on my profligate spending. Now the only question is: can I last a whole month?
Happily, I wisely chose the shortest month of the year to conduct this experiment. So, I only need to survive 10 more days to survive my No Personal Purchase Pledge. So, again I ask: Can I make it? I think I can. I think I can I think can.
Maybe.
Oh, the eternal Valentine’s Day conundrum! What to get Handsome Hubby for Valentine’s Day? After 39 years, what’s left on the “wants” list? On the “needs” list? Or on the “surprise” list?
Not framed pictures of the kids or pups. Not socks, sweats, or sneakers. And certainly not sexy boxers. Been there, boxed and bowed all that. Read more
People often say I don’t look my age. They mean it as a compliment, and I take it as such, but lately I’ve been wondering. Is it really a compliment, and why does hearing it make me so happy? Read more
Happy Holidays
from our home to yours.
May you have health, happiness, and, of course, humor
in the New Year.
Fondly,
Karen and Handsome Hubby
It’s time for my annual Holiday Grab Bag blog. This year’s blog spotlights cookie-scented deodorant and AI obits. Ho, ho, OH! It’s an odd, jolly jumble.
My family is generally an agreeable lot. We don’t argue. Don’t bicker. Maybe we have good communication skills, a shared outlook on life, or mutual respect. Perhaps we’re apathetic and figure there’s no point in trying to change one another’s minds. Who knows. In any case, we get along EXCEPT when it comes to cookies. Read more
I don’t buy lottery tickets or even have a lucky number. Yet I’m obsessed with numbers. What kind of numbers? The age which people die. Read more
I’m not rich, but I have needs. Oh, so many needs. That’s why I’m casting a covetous eye at the latest trend of the idle (or busy) rich who hire private concierges to cater to their every desire. Yes, I’m not rich, but I dream big. Read more