Oh Cindy, Give Me A Break!

I had the TV turned on to the news this morning and forgot about it. I left it on after the newscast was over. From the bathroom, I could hear somebody oohing and ahhing over Cindy Crawford and her amazing beauty. I agree, she's gorgeous.

Okay, then comes the infomercial. Buy this! It's what Cindy Crawford uses to keep herself looking liked THIS at the age of 43. Well, excuse me all to hell, but are they saying that 43 is an advanced age? Is it really such a surprise that a 43 year old woman would be beautiful and have great skin? Uh, I thought most beautiful 43 year olds still had great skin.

I'm not taking anything away from Cindy, but I find it ridiculous that advertisers are touting her as being 43 (in the same tone one might say 93) and looks so youthful! 43 is YOUTHFUL. Damn! The product being offered really isn't my complaint. I have no idea if it's any good or not. But to me it is not true, or psychologically healthy,or smart to advertise on the assumption that a 43 year old woman is an old woman.

Now don't get me started on feminine hygiene products. Those assumptions tick me off too!

Feel Free To "Bring Someone"

I used to hear those words from my Mother at least twice a year, but always for the Christmas Eve party she had at her home. Now don't get me wrong, it was nice of her to mention. The only problem was since I was 24, divorced with two kids, and not in a relationship, just who did she think I was going to bring?

Mom knew that I was not in a relationship. She spoke with me every day and every evening too. Since our conversations usually went something like this. Mom, "What are you doing?" Me, "Working", or "Feeding the kids", I can't help but wonder where she thought this guy was that I was hiding from her.

Okay, I began to get nervous around Thanksgiving. Trying to find a guy to date for a month who would be suitably smitten with me that he would want to spend Christmas Eve with me and my family was a lot to ask for. My "dates" were frequently guys who would ask me out, and I would reply "Oh that sounds nice, but I've got the kids." Most of the time, the guy would then suggest that he pick up a bottle of wine and we could order a pizza. Sure, fine.

I'm sure I don't have to tell you how these evenings frequently turned out. That was okay but it did not lead to the kind of relationship required for escorting me and my kids to Mom's for Christmas Eve.

Fortunately, after about 4 years of humiliation about not having a "date" for Christmas, I met Charles. Charles was a delightful gay guy who was not "out" to his family. So for the next three years, he was my Christmas Eve boyfriend and in return I was his Christmas Day girlfriend. It all worked out fine.

If I ask you to my house, I will not tell you to "feel free to bring someone".

The Quest To Earn An Honest Buck

The things we do for love may be worse than the things we do for money, but not by much! My darling 17 year old Cyrus worked for a caterer last summer. His employer put him in a chef's costume, complete with a fake big belly and two foot high chef's hat and asked him to stand on the corner with a sign advertising the caterer's wares.

Cyrus had hired on to be a clean up guy and an assistant sous chef, not a walking billboard.

He did it as long as he could, and then hung up his apron about the 10th time kids from his high school drove by and honked and cracked up. Poor kid. Still, the kids driving by weren't making $10 an hour and he was.

When I was very young, I was divorced and had 2 kids. I was not educated beyond high school and had no real skills that were marketable. I went to work at a major corporation as a file clerk (since I did mainly know my alphabet). Surprise! I really didn't earn enough money to support the kids doing this.

Fine, I can iron. I can clean. So as side jobs, I took in ironing and then also cleaned houses for people in my spare time. The ironing was fine, since I could be home with the kids while I did it. The cleaning jobs, not so much. Bringing kids to someone's house when you clean (when the kids are 1 and 3) is not the best idea in the world.

Okay, scratch the cleaning gig. I knew a guy who was the official photographer and film maker for my big corporation. He approached me to do a little "modeling" for a program he was putting together. Uh huh. Seems the salesmen for the company all came to San Francisco's headquarters once a year and got awards. This year one of the awards was fly fishing gear.

Uh huh. So I'm supposed to model with a fish or what? Oh not exactly. I was to wear a bikini and thigh high waders, stand in a stream, and throw a fishing line while I looked sultry and smiled. All right. It paid $200 for about an hour's work. God knows we could use the money.

If I had really understood how stupid and horrible I would feel actually doing this, I never would have signed on. I never could even look at the photos he shot of me. I felt too humiliated. The idea that 200 or so men would look at these pictures and laugh or make crude comments was just too much for me to take in.

Still, I took the money. At the same time, I advertised at the local market for more ironing jobs! Some things just aren't worth what it costs to earn that honest buck.

Why Uggs?

My handsome and charming and intelligent grandson, Cyrus, gave me a birthday gift of shoes this year. He knows his Grandma's preferences and he was "spot on" as usual. These little ankle boots are charming and practical, and dare I say, a touch sexy!

Fortunately, I have spent many hours with Cyrus and I've assisted in his molding into a young man. We are close, (thick as thieves even) and I never question his good taste!

Which brings me to the subject of Uggs. Who on earth thought those things would be something that belonged on any woman's feet? I realize the spike heel is not for everyone, but there are lovely shoes out there that are not "Uggly". Why would anyone wear something so horrid?

Okay, I've heard all the arguments for "but they are comfortable". Sorry, my husband's holey boxer shorts and paint stained wife beater undershirt are comfortable too, but I don't wear them to the mailbox, the store, or the neighbors house.

I felt the same way in the 80's when women would "dress for success" in the lovely business suit, the blouse with the bow in front (Thanks Diane Feinstein) and put on a pair of sneakers to complete their ensemble. Are you joking? Wear a pretty pair of leather flats if you don't do heels, but don't ruin an entire outfit with a stupid pair of sneakers. If this is how you show that you are a business woman, I'm not buying it.

Oh Yes She Can-Can

On my way up to a dinner party at John and Kate's yesterday, I passed a shop window and saw the most amazing outfit I have ever seen. I had to have it! Alas, they only had it in small girl sizes. I was somewhat disappointed. This was the ensemble of my dreams!

Fortunately, my grand-daughter Abbey Rose is small enough that she could wear Grandma Linda's dream outfit! What's more, after 15 minutes, I taught her to do the can-can. Abbey and I entertained the entire family for a while. I was a little jealous that I didn't have the right skirt, but I did the best I could with my limited wardrobe options.

I am so pleased my Son and his gorgeous wife appreciate my efforts toward making their children well rounded and cultured as well.

The Girl At The Madonna Inn

When I was a child, my mother spoke of the Madonna Inn in the same hushed and reverent tones one usually associates with the Louvre or the Taj Mahal. Each room, she assured us, had a "theme" and they were all beautiful beyond measure. I grew up believing that this iconic place in San Luis Obispo, California, was the ultimate destination for an amazing stay.

Years passed and I was in my 30's by the time a boyfriend agreed that we would spend one night at this Madonna Inn on a road trip from San Francisco to Los Angeles. Imagine if you will, a poor man's Hearst Castle mixed with the worst of Disney. Voila! There is the Madonna Inn! Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I was enthralled, although I have to say I've never seen so many turrets on anything in my life.

My lover and I got the "Anniversary Room" and when we opened the door, we were somewhat startled to see that everything in the room was pink. Not a pale shade, but the kind of pink that says "Put on your sunglasses before proceeding" pink.

We were horrified and delighted in equal measures. To say this was a sensory overload would be a gross understatement. The bed was heart shaped and pink. The bathroom had a hot pink heart shaped sink (and strangely, a cave like shower made of huge rocks and boulders). The Inn boasted a "Cave Man Room" along with every other theme that could be imagined. It was funny and sweet; it was garish and horrid all at the same time.

We went to the restaurant for dinner and the food was amazingly good. There was a couple at a table across from us who fascinated us both. The girl (young woman) was extremely pretty and very buxom. In fact, she was what most people would call "fat". Her man was also young and very slender. We watched them off and on during dinner.

The girl seemed to swoon over every bite of her food. Her boyfriend almost swooned watching her enjoyment. They were adorable! They held hands and giggled, and took tastes from each other's plates. When dessert came, my boyfriend and I were almost afraid to look! The gorgeous girl's sensual enjoyment was almost too much to take in. It was the sexiest dinner I had ever observed. The young man was enthralled with his lady's lusty enjoyment!

Skinny girls could learn something from this woman!