Category Archives: Miscellaneous Thoughts

Sometimes I just have random thoughts to share. Topics may vary, depending on my ever-changing mood. The views of this blogger may not reflect your own, so please be tolerant or exercise your sense of humor while reading. I have been known to use sarcasm enthusiastically.

November 11, 2010 · 8:47 AM

Menopause, you hateful bitch…

Warning: the following blog post contains mildly graphic tales of menopausal woe. Men, you may want to move along…quickly. If not, you’ve been warned. I mean it. Girls, read on…

When I was young and heard older women talk about menopause, I would think to myself “how awesome – no periods!” Now I’m 47 and in the fourth full year of my own menopausal experience and I think to myself “I’d gladly have a period if it meant no more hot flashes.” Sometimes, ladies, the grass is greener on the other side and sometimes it’s not. “Be careful what you wish for” has never been so evident in my life. The ugly truth is that menopause sucks. Here’s what your mother or friends never told you:

• Menopause is not just for little old ladies. My symptoms started appearing at the age of 42. Sometimes life is not fair.

• Imagine sitting in your oven on the “warm” setting and thinking, “wow…it feels toasty and wonderful in here.” Now imagine that someone locked the oven door and turned it up to broil. You can’t escape, the heat is unbearable, and your skin starts to melt and pool in the bottom of your oven with that lasagna spill-over you forgot to clean up. Welcome to my hot flash.

• In the past, I could expect a visit from my “friend” around the 5th of each month. Like clockwork. Our visit would last 7-10 days, and while it wouldn’t be what I’d call pleasant, it wasn’t unbearable. We’d hang, sometimes we’d argue, she’d leave, and I’d be happy again. Now I may go for 6-7 months with no sign of said friend. She may show up for 4 or 5 days randomly or she may drop in for 44 days and almost put me in the hospital. Hateful…evil…bitch.

• Cranky? Of course I’m cranky! My body is turning on me! I have a right to be cranky!

• I’ve never had dry skin in my life, but now I have a bottle of lotion in every room of my house and in the glove box of my car. And I live in a city known for 98% humidity. I can never visit a desert again, at least not until this is all over. I’d look like Phyllis Diller at only 47, and that’s unacceptable. Sorry, Phyllis.

• For you youngsters, the answer is YES: when you go gray upstairs, you go gray downstairs.

• Speaking of gray hair, I’ve been plucking out the more obvious offenders – especially around my face where I can see them in the mirror more glaringly. One of these days, I’ll have to accept a new mantra and move on. My choices are “gray is sexy” or “bald is beautiful.” And yes, that goes for downstairs, as well.

• If they can make Grecian Formula for men that can be combed in and cover gray in 10 minutes while looking completely natural, why do they still expect women spend $150 and 3 hours getting our hair colored? Where’s our inexpensive but extraordinarily effective 10 minute comb in formula?

• I have insomnia issues now. Sometimes I sleep like a rock for 8 straight hours, but most nights I sleep for 20 minutes at a shot, throwing covers here and there, and begging for mercy from the sleep fairy. A few times a month, I find myself awake until 3:00 or 4:00am. I should tell you that The Complete Package and I do not have cable. For the record, basic channels suck like a Dyson after 1am. Once Craig Ferguson goes off, your choices are infomercials for appliances, miracle investment advice or phone services for singles who want to mingle. I’m beyond mingling, I already own a Shark Steamer, and if that investment advice is so stellar, why are you still hosting infomercials for a living? Really.

• My fingernails are forever splitting and peeling into a million thin layers. Forget manicures. Why would I want to paint my nails a color that would actually draw attention to my hands? Ugh!

• In my youth, I’d heard women speak of episodes of excessive sweating due to menopause, but I never understood it. Now I pray for blissful ignorance again. While it doesn’t happen nearly as often as regular hot flashes, it is 100 times more intolerable in my mind. Imagine randomly exploding into a sweaty dock worker. For 15 minutes, you are completely drenched in places you didn’t know had sweat glands, and your clothes look like you just ran through a sprinkler. Men have done this for centuries. Women were not made for this. I can’t claim to be “dewy” when it’s running down my shin bones. Please, someone shoot me.

• If you’ve had children, you know you get mentally fuzzy just before and after giving birth. We’re hard-wired for it. It’s a part of the science of being a woman with raging hormones during the blessed event. Newsflash: it comes back during menopause. Those same hormones that made you feel like an idiot as a new mother return for round two when you experience “The Change.” I find myself pointing at the dishwasher and barking at TCP “don’t forget to put your plate in…..that…..that THING where the dirty dishes go.” Wow. Really? How am I supposed to sound tough or bossy when I can’t remember that the lump on our curb is called our mailbox? The good news – it only happens randomly. The bad news – it happens.

• The Complete Package and I used to snuggle in bed. It helped me fall asleep, feeling all warm and cuddly like that. Now I’m too hot and uncomfortable to be touched, and TCP is bringing marshmallows, graham crackers and Hershey bars to bed. Oh, well. He might as well take advantage of the raging inferno coming from my side of the bed. He’s clever like that.

• I hesitate to admit this, but I have a peach fuzz beard. This is my most embarrassing menopausal side effect. I admit this only because I don’t want to hide the awful truth from you, my friends. TCP says it’s not noticeable, but I notice it. When I look up close in the mirror, I feel eligible to apply for Santa Clause at Macy’s this Christmas. It’s short and soft and colorless, but that doesn’t make me feel any less of a fuzzy bunny. It has me wondering…whatever happened to Nad’s. Remember Nad’s? It was a sticky honey-like substance similar to a home waxing kit. Where is Nad when I need her?

• Did you know that menopause is actually ONE DAY? Menopause refers to the last day of your last period…or the first day of your period-free life. The time leading up to that one day is called peri-menopause. So I am peri-menopausal. That’s medical speak for hormonal female freak.

I’m telling you here and now – I am marking my calendar and counting the days until this is all over. I’m dreaming of the day when I’m over this speed bump and looking at it from the other side. I’m four years in, I’ve put in my time, and I’m ready to get off this bus. Menopause is a bitch, and I’m ready to give her a good slap in the face or put a boot up her ass. Sorry, my crankiness is flaring up again. Until then, I am your sweaty, fuzzy, graying, sleepless friend. Pray for me. Pray hard and pray often…because you could be next.

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October 28, 2010 · 2:25 PM

My Annual Halloween Dilemma: Should I eat it or should I give it away?

We all do it. We buy the candy we love to give out at Halloween and we end up eating as much or more than we give away. I’m not going to lie. There are always a few Almond Joy wrappers buried deep in my kitchen trash each October. So I ask myself – did I really need to buy 4 bags of miniature Snickers? No. Will 4 bags make it to the door Sunday night? No. I’m just being honest. Chances are good some of this stuff is going to “disappear” before the sun goes down on Sunday. Each year, I promise myself that next fall I’ll buy black licorice (yuck!) and white chocolate (so not a chocolate it’s not even accurate) so I’m not tempted, but do I? No. This year I vowed to buy healthier alternatives for the candy bowl. Things like raisins and pretzels and snack mix and sugar-free gum and dental floss. To which, The Complete Package said “Great! Now our house is SURE to be toilet-papered!” and “Honey, no one wants to be the house that gives out scag candy.” It’s the dilemma that haunts my every Halloween – will I be fat and popular, or less fat and toilet-papered? And you thought peer pressure was just for high-schoolers. So I have to ask…what’s in your candy bowl this year?

Snickers and Skittles and Crunch Bars....Oh, My!

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October 25, 2010 · 12:46 PM

So this one time, in high school…I was bit by a boa constrictor in English class.

I know it sounds absurd, but I swear it’s absolutely true. In high school, I had a fabulous junior AP English teacher – Dot Hosford. She was hyperactive, creative, tough, hilarious, and a true force of nature. During our first semester, she broke us into groups and tasked us with creating a fully dimensional book report that was to be nothing short of off-Broadway in presentation style. We had 4 weeks to read the assigned book, write and edit our presentation, prepare a full range of props, and present it to the rest of the class. All of this, we were told, would count for 25% of our grade for the semester. As I said, it was an advanced placement course, and as devoted overachievers, we were motivated to outdo every other group in the class. The sad part is that I have no memory of the book my group was given. I think it was Moby Dick, since I have a vague recollection of owning the Cliff’s Notes. Why can’t I remember? Because it was completely overshadowed by what would happen next.

One of the groups in our class was given the book Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse. It’s about the spiritual journey of a boy from the Indian subcontinent during the time of Buddha. In their effort to bring the story to life, this group brought in a table draped in colorful scarves featuring a statue of Buddha surrounded in candles and encircled by……wait for it…….a live boa constrictor. The candles were lit, the lights were dimmed, and the book report went off without a hitch. It was an Oscar worthy performance. As it ended, applause erupted and the lights came back on. Pats on the back were offered all around, and then someone had the bright idea to hold the snake. The owner seemed to have no reservations about draping it around students one at a time for almost half an hour. The snake was then placed back on the table, where it curled itself back around the Buddha statue. Of course, by this time, the entire class figured out that I was (am) terrified of snakes. Was it because I was sniveling in the back corner? Maybe, but it’s not an irrational fear. I had several bad snake encounters as a child and it was completely justified (in my mind, anyway). After a great deal of teasing, I succumbed to peer pressure and agreed to walk up to the table and touch the snake. “What’s the worst that can happen?” they kept saying. “Everyone else did it!” I can still hear my mother asking about friends and jumping off bridges, but I caved. And therein lies the problem.

After sitting quietly through a book report, enduring the noise of thunderous applause and hands-on interaction with 20 or more hormonal teens for more than an hour, the snake must have finally had enough. It was just my dumb luck that it happened as I approached the table. Knowing that I was terrified, the snake’s owner tried to calm me by telling me to hold my hand vertically and approach the snake slowly, then just pet him like you would pet a dog. Deep breath…hand vertical…approach the snake…touch slowly. Then BAM! Just like that, in a split second, the snake lunged for my vertical hand, sinking his teeth right into the fleshy part of my palm and the lower half of my fingers. In another split second, I had jerked my hand back, pulling the snake and the Buddha right off the table and onto the floor. The statue shattered, the snake tried to slither away, and my hand started bleeding like I’d been shot. It seems our docile little buddy had nicked a few small arteries in the palm of my hand, and before I knew it, I was being rushed to the restroom, leaving a trail of blood down the hallway. We quickly rinsed off my hand and found that there were no cuts, just 12-15 puncture wounds from the teeth. Because of the location of some of the puncture wounds, blood began pooling under the skin of my palm causing my hand to swell up like a catcher’s mitt. It was time to head for the nearest hospital.

My parents were both at work, so a teacher volunteered to drive me to the emergency room. I’m not kidding when I say that we had to re-tell this story 3 times to the hospital staff. They thought we were making it up, until they cleaned me up and started pulling snake teeth out of my hand. I’m sure that story made it around the emergency room as one of those “you’re not going to believe this” stories. It most definitely made it around the school. After a few hours of cleaning, tooth removal and a tetanus shot in the fanny, I made it back to school. By then, the rumor mill had gone viral, and the story was that I had been bitten by a poisonous snake that had somehow crawled into our classroom, and I was on life-support in the ICU. They weren’t sure if I was going to make it. That’s high school for you. At least we didn’t have cell phones and You Tube back then, so I didn’t have to relive the indignity of it with 20 million of my closest friends.

In the spirit of my crazy, spastic, inspirational English teacher, I kept the snake’s teeth and presented them to her. This is how much I love her wackiness – she had them framed along with my school photo, the date, and a small caption of what had occurred that day. She hung it on her classroom wall behind her desk, and there it hung until my senior year, when someone stole it. And you thought the snake bite incident was the strangest part of the story. We never did find out who took it. My question is WHY? Who would want it, and what would they do with it? It’s not your typical collector’s item. I’m guessing it was the snake. They were his teeth, after all. What happens when a snake loses his teeth? Does he grow new replacement teeth, or is he sentenced to a life of liquid mice (ewww)? And why am I worried about a stinkin’ snake, anyway? At least I can say I escaped with only a few puncture wounds and a weirdly unique experience. And for that I say thank you, Dot Hosford. You will always be my favorite former teacher, and I will never forget my year in your classroom. You and your methods are still with me after all these years, and I have the scars to prove it.

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October 18, 2010 · 11:06 AM

Meet Hercules and Mr. Clean

Laundry has never been my thing. Ironing is even worse. The Complete Package can attest to the fact that 90% of his wardrobe says “wrinkle resistant” on the tags. I still don’t like to iron. To me, it’s the most tedious of all household chores. I’d rather scrub the grout in my kitchen floor tile. I know there are people out there who like to iron, who may even say they find it relaxing. I can accept that, I just don’t understand it.

Meet Hercules (dryer) & Mr. Clean (washer)

A few months ago, we remodeled our laundry room. We repainted the walls, put in a new tile floor, and put up new shelving and wall hooks. We also brought home Hercules and Mr. Clean – my two new best friends. I used to dislike laundry day, but now I love it. I love it so much, my husband jokes when he finds me in the laundry room that I’m “watching the laundry channel again.” It’s because I love my new front loaders. I’ve never had one before. They’re huge, they’re fascinating, and they can wash and dry a king size comforter or 36 bath towels in a single load. That’s impressive! But let’s be honest here…they had me at “quiet.” Our old Kenmore set was so loud we couldn’t hear the television in the next room even if we closed and locked the laundry room door. The new Samsung front loaders are so much better. We can still hear them, but it’s now a gentle hum instead of a bone rattling clank. They’re also energy efficient and use a lot less water and electricity. I love that Mr. Clean has a “sanitize” setting for washing Lilly Bug’s diaper blow-outs and Hercules has several steam dry settings, including “refresh” for when I go brain dead and forget to remove that permanent press load on time. Yup…now that these two full-frontal friends have come into our home, I’m digging laundry day. I’m downright giddy. And I hope the warm glow of enchantment never washes off.

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October 12, 2010 · 1:47 PM

C’mon, Ziggy – smile for the camera!

As I’ve mentioned before, I have a new camera (which I love). My only issue so far is getting Ziggy to pose as my live subject so I can practice using it. He’s not as enthusiastic about the new camera as I am. This is what I usually get:

Mommy, please get that camera out of my face. I'm trying to nap.

So today, when I got “the look” again, I decided to kick it up a notch and break out the kryptonite…the big guns…the pièce de résistance…the pork tenderloin.

Great googly moogly - is that a bowl of smoked pork tenderloin?

Oh, I see that I’ve got your full attention now. Funny how that works. It’s like you don’t even notice the camera. So I guess you’ll let me take photos now? I’d even go so far as to bet that if I said “lay down” right now, you might just do it.

Wow...I guess you'll do just about anything for smoky meat!

Yup…worked like a charm. Behold the power of meat! I think that’s supposed to be cheese, but we all know you’ll do anything for cheese, too. And ice cream. And raw apple slices. You’re my sweet funny boy, Ziggy. Thanks for playing along, even if it was only until the meat ran out. One last treat – you can lick the bowl clean. I know you like that. I got my photos, and you got a treat. They call that a win/win. Good thing I picked a shallow bowl, my smushy-faced friend.

Oh, sweet nectar of life. If only I had a longer snout!

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October 9, 2010 · 7:47 PM

Know what I love about fall? Breaking out my collection of pajama pants!

How do I love pajama pants? Let me count the ways!

Fall is here, and it’s time to break out my collection of pajama pants. Oh, how I love my pajama pants. So much so, that I feel compelled to share a few random thoughts with you – my close friends and confidants. Hope you don’t mind.

1. Down here in South Hades (Houston, TX), it’s just too dadgum hot to wear PJ pants year round. That’s why I look forward to cold weather, when the highs dip below 98F, the humidity drops below 140% and there’s a not-so-blistering-as-usual breeze in the air. We’re not there yet, but we’re getting closer. Close enough to make me break out the PJ pants collection and get them ready.

2. I’d wear pajama pants all day long if I could get away with it at the doctor’s office or grocery store or the post office. You laugh, but I’ve actually seen people wearing them out in public. Did they forget or something?

3. I don’t know why, but I don’t really go for the PJ tops. Buying the full set is a waste of money for me. I prefer to wear PJ pants with t-shirts. It’s more comfortable. Or maybe it’s that I’m menopausal and sleeping in a flannel shirt with night sweats would make me crazy enough to kill someone (unintentionally, of course).

4. My collection includes both flannel and cotton PJ pants. It’s like the old party conundrum – “black tie” or “business casual”? I like to wear the lightweight cotton pants when it’s cool, and the flannel for special occasions. And by special occasions, I mean Christmas. My Baby (my beautiful daughter) and I started buying matching PJ pants to wear on Christmas morning when she was in high school. That was 10 years ago, and we still try to buy them each year. I love family holiday traditions.

A few of my cute Nick & Nora pajamas from Suuupah Target

5. I seem to have more than my fair share of Nick & Nora PJ’s from my favorite store, Suuupah Target. I especially love their sock monkey PJ’s, but I also have a super cute pair with snow globes from the 50 states on them. Another favorite pair has girly lingerie on hangers and clotheslines. Love them!

6. What would a pair of pajama pants in the winter be without fuzzy socks? My favorites are the ones made by the “Life is Good” people. They’re cuddly, fuzzy perfection. I also love this sweet pink pair with the fuzzy bunny cuffs. So cute, and so toasty warm. They’re like a hug for your feet from someone you love.

Fuzzy Socks - A warm hug for your tootsies.

7. A word of caution: don’t wear fuzzy socks when you’re carrying your over-loaded laundry basket down the stairs (lesson learned the hard way) and don’t chase your dog on wood floors with your fuzzy socks on, or you’ll be singing “Wipe Out!” in your sleep.

8. Don’t mix fuzzy socks and polar fleece blankets. They tend to stick together, and you run the risk of getting tangled up when you try to run for the bathroom during television commercial breaks. Not to mention the fact that you’ll get popped with static electricity. Personally, I think it would be a hoot to rub a polar fleece blanket on your head and then walk into a room and say “Honey, the pregnancy test came out positive!” That seems pretty dang funny when you’re 47 and menopausal.

Happy fall, y’all! I hope you have a season filled with punkins, cool weather, crisp apples, homemade soups and stews, and comfortable pajama pants with fuzzy socks. I don’t think there’s anything better this time of year!

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October 7, 2010 · 1:13 PM

My Guilty Pleasure Food: Bugles

Bugles - My crunchy, guilty pleasure

I know they’re just modified corn pulp pumped full of air, but I can’t help myself….I love Bugles. It’s a love affair I’ve had since I was a kid. In my defense, I only buy one bag every few years. The problem is, once I open them, they’re usually gone in 2 days. It’s disgusting. I used to put them on my fingertips like weird Geisha fingernails when I was younger. Now my fingertips are too big and the Bugles are too narrow. Another guilty pleasure food – a bag of Funions with an ice-cold V8. The Complete Package turned me on to that one. It may sound gross, but it’s actually a delicious combination. I haven’t had it for at least 10 years, but it’s a good one. You should try it if you’re not too grossed out.

I once worked with a woman who was reluctant to admit that her guilty pleasure food was pork rinds. In fact, it took a few drinks to get it out of her. She was so embarrassed, her face actually turned red when she told us. It’s funny how something like a fried snack food can make us feel exhilarated in private and humiliated in public. I guess that’s why they’re called “guilty pleasures.” What are your guilty pleasure snacks? Are you THAT girl who has a hidden box of Ding Dongs in her closet? Do you hide bags of chocolate behind the DVDs in your TV cabinet? Do you secretly buy El Charito frozen enchilada dinners when your spouse is out of town instead of cooking? Or are you more likely to eat ice cream topped with Captain Crunch or Count Chocula in bed late at night? Tell me…what is your guilty pleasure food? I know you have one…we all do.

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October 3, 2010 · 11:21 AM

Show & Tell: Two Blogs I Really Love

I’ve been under the weather with a respiratory infection, and I’ll just say it – I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. My lungs are squeaking and my mind is mush. I’ve been taking my meds and I’m improving, but let’s just say that I’m too worn out to be clever. Instead, I’d like to share two blogs I’ve really been enjoying lately. They don’t know I’m doing this, so SURPRISE! Thanks for making me laugh this week, ladies. I needed it. I hope you’ll give them a look:

Katie O. and her “You Are What You Eat or Reheat” Blog at http://youarewhatyoueatorreheat.wordpress.com/
Katie hails from Atlanta. She lives with her husband, two dogs (Liberty & Justice), and her cat (Gus). She’s got some great recipes up on her blog, but my favorite is her “White Trash Wednesday” features. Katie, you maka’ me laugh. I can’t wait to see which white trash recipe wins in your latest poll, but I’m pulling for Tater Tot Casserole. Thanks for making me chuckle from week to week.

Alex and her “Laundry & Vodka” Blog at http://laundryandvodka.com/
Alex is also a Georgia girl. She lives with her military husband and their two dogs, Nigel and Nash. I love the stories and photographs about her two pups, but her anecdotes on her husband and their relationship are what keep me in stitches. I love that she’s not afraid to share the unglamorous but funny side of marriage. Thanks for sharing your thoughts and your creepy Sponge Bob balloon with all of us.

Tell me...who are YOU reading?

Finally, I’d like to encourage you to support your favorite bloggers. If you like a blog or post, leave a comment or subscribe. You’ll make a blogger’s day and validate that people enjoy their work and want to read more. If you have a favorite blog, leave a comment and share who or what you’re reading. C’mon…spill it.

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September 27, 2010 · 9:55 AM

Wahoo! My new camera is finally here!

I finally got all the parts to my new camera last week, and let me tell ya’, I feel like I won big on a scratch-off lottery ticket. I am so excited to finally have my first SLR camera. I’ve secretly dreamed of having one since I was in high school, but let’s not discuss how long ago that was or that dinosaurs probably still roamed the earth. I chose the Canon EOS Rebel T2i 550D with the EFS (IS) 18-55mm lens kit after The Complete Package (a world-class super geek) performed his usual high-level exhaustive research of the latest digital SLRs. Thanks, honey! This camera is awesome – lightweight, easy to understand and highly rated. The second most important part of my purchase was the “For Dummies” book that matches the camera, which was my main source of entertainment this weekend. I still have hundreds of pages to go, but I’ll get it eventually. I did, however, learn enough to snap a few shots of The Zigmeister and download them so I could take it for a test drive. The difference between the new digital SLR and my old point-and-shoot digital pocket camera is amazing. I have a lot to learn, and when I do I’ll share more about what this puppy can do. Until then, I’ll leave you with this simple photo comparison. Thanks for playing along, Ziggy. Oh man, I’m going to love this thing!

Ziggy Napping - Old Camera on the Left & New Camera on the Right

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September 15, 2010 · 8:58 AM

Hi. My name is NanaBread and I’m a Peppermint Bath Product Junkie.

Is there a 12-step program for bath product addiction? There should be. I have a serious problem when it comes to peppermint scented bath products – I spend too much money on them. It’s a love that apparently knows no boundary. I’ve tried to control it, but I can’t. I’m weak and I know it, but I smell good.

A Peek Into My Minty Addiction - Peppermint Bath Products

Let’s literally start at the top with Nioxin’s Scalp Therapy. I picked this up at my hair salon on a whim and never regretted anything but the cost. I’ll be honest. I don’t use it every day because I just can’t wrap my head around using a $40 shampoo and conditioner twin-pack on a daily basis, but I do use it once a week or so (as a special treat). It’s especially refreshing in the summer after a hot sweaty morning pulling weeds in the flower beds. I don’t buy it often, but I love and appreciate it when I do. It’s lovely, and I hope you win the lottery some day so you can afford to make it part of your daily routine.

I was in San Francisco when I stumbled into an Origins store with bloody swollen feet crying for help or for someone to put me out of my misery. That’s what happens when you wear the wrong shoes to sightsee in San Francisco. (Travel hint: don’t wear brand new leather wedges if you’re walking the streets of San Francisco. Wear running shoes and put a pair of bunny slippers in your purse. Wear the running shoes when you’re in motion and the bunny slippers when you give up and stop for a margarita.) Origins saved my feet and my trip. I bought the 4-piece leg & foot rejuvenation package. I love their clever product names: Foot Rest, Sole Searcher, Leg Lifts and Reinventing the Heel. Don’t let their humor fool you. These beauties are seriously fabulous and effective. Thank you, Origins. Because of you, I was able to leave my heart in San Francisco instead of pieces of my wrecked feet.

My longest lasting peppermint crush (by far) has been the Oatmeal Peppermint bath bar from Garden Botanika. Oh, my…I have loved it for so long. If I had a dollar for every six dollar bar I’ve bought, I’d still be in the hole, but I’d be a happy camper. I love this soap more than life itself. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but I do love it fiercely. The oatmeal chunks set in a creamy peppermint bar will cleanse and exfoliate you like Helga the Baltic spa technician. I’ll warn you – you will look like you lost a cat fight when you first step out of the shower, but your skin will feel as soft as a baby’s backside.

J.R. Watkins Apothecary Peppermint Rejuvenating Foot Cream is my new lotion obsession. It’s labeled as a foot cream but it’s much, much more than that. Because it’s gentle and absorbs very quickly, I use it everywhere – even on my face. That’s saying a lot, because I have sensitive skin and mild rosacea. I can use this product without any fear of breakouts or that greasy feeling you get from some lotions. I put it on and a minute later, my skin feels smooth and dry. I am in love with this lotion. I will even go so far as to say that it has helped reduce the wrinkles on my face and neck over the past year. I put it on every morning before I apply my make-up and every evening before I go to bed. About the only place I don’t use it is on my feet. Go figure.

You’re probably thinking right now “geez…how many peppermint products can one woman use?” But wait! There’s more! My daughter introduced me to the most amazing liquid soap on a shopping trip to Austin’s SoCo district. We were snooping around the Farm to Market Organic Grocery on South Congress when she handed me a bottle of Dr. Bronner’s Magic Peppermint Pure-Castile Soap (certified organic and fair trade). She said it would blow my mind, and it did. For serious peppermint junkies, this is the hard stuff. It is a peppermint explosion in a bottle. Combined with a nice bath scrubbing poof, this will make your heart sing and your body parts tingle. I like to use it first thing in the morning when I need a shower to wake me up, or after an hour in the garage wrestling with my jiggly parts on the elliptical machine. Imagine jumping into a frozen pond. That’s how refreshing I find this soap. And it makes my entire bathroom and bedroom smell pepperminty fresh for half an hour after I shower. Here’s another secret: I use their almond scented soap at night when I want to unwind and smell good. And believe me, it smells really, really good.

Last but not least, I love the Savannah Bee Company’s Mint Julep Beeswax Lip Balm. You can buy it in a tube or in a little metal tin. While I usually favor lip balm tubes, my daughter found a great deal on E-Bay and we split the cost of a 12-pack of the cute little metal tins. I’ll be honest. She had me at beeswax. When they added Mint Julep, I was sunk. This all-natural lip balm is everything you want in a lip balm. It’s creamy, it’s long-lasting, and its peppermint oil content leaves your lips feeling quenched and refreshed. The Complete Package will testify that I am a lip balm addict. I carry 3-4 brands (a quick nod to Burt’s Bees tinted lip balm here – watermelon is my color). I carry it at all times. I use it every 15 minutes. I can’t stop. On the up side, my lips are always lush and kissable at a moment’s notice (the better to kiss you with, my dear!). I know my excessive use of peppermint lip balm is a problem because my 3 ½ year old grandson, Jonah, will now turn to me in the car and say, “can I get some of that?” I’m sorry, Jonah Bear. Nana didn’t mean to start you down the road to peppermint product addiction at such an early age. She should know better. But now that I have your attention, have you seen this peppermint lotion I got? AARRGHHH! Somebody stop me!

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