Archive for October, 2011

My sis is still in town (yay!), and our typically lighthearted morning coffee klatsch led to me breaking out my iPad and calculating our individual breast cancer risks via this handy dandy online tool. It’s Halloween; perhaps we were feeling a little spooked?

I guess we can take some small comfort in knowing that, at least according to this assessment tool, our chances of being felled by breast cancer is very low. But still, even though I know that American women are six times more likely to die from heart disease than breast cancer, it’s hard not to worry about it.

Especially after a month of media attention, fundraisers, walk-a-thons and hot pink this, that and the other.

And speaking of pink…

After lunch, we popped in to the liquor store and nabbed a bottle of sparkling rosé to sip tonight, while we pass out candy to the tiny goblins and ghouls trick or treating in my building. It’s delightfully fizzy and super tasty, but is my favorite alcoholic bevvie lifting my chance of getting breast cancer ever so slightly skyward?

I’d read conflicting reports about this, and I wanted to be able to distill the possible connection between alcohol consumption and breast cancer into a single tidy little sentence.

So here’s the one-line synopsis I was after, culled from breast expert Dr. Susan Love’s website:

“Alcohol appears to raise blood levels of insulin-like growth factors (IGFs), which, like estrogen, can promote breast-cell growth.”

In other words, booze messes around with our body’s natural ability to regulate hormones. And while that might not spell too much trouble when we’re young, it’s far from ideal when we’re older.

Trust me, I’m not trying to be a buzzkill just as we gear up for the cocktail-iest time of the entire year. I just want us to be smart. Or, more to the point, I want to be smart. Smart = healthy.

I’ve never said I wasn’t slow on the uptake. So now, after God knows how long after the entire world discovered it, I’m finally reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin.

Oh my, j’adore. I love that someone could -  did – take such a methodical, hyper-researched approach to boosting her day-to-day cheerfulness and gratitude.

And the fact that so much of it requires elbow grease and self-discipline is so telling. I’ve always suspected as much, which is why I’m fairly addicted to self-improvement. But I’m overjoyed to have the validation that color-coding your sock drawer is a way more effective route to lifting your mood than that second or third margarita.

Full disclosure: I tried the second-margarita approach to happiness last night, at our neighbors’ Halloween party. But quite smartly, I’d brought along several cans of Mercy hangover-prevention with us (in lieu of a bottle of wine or some other type of alcohol-laced hostess gift), so I’m not feeling too down for the count today. Those 10,000 milligrams of B vitamins really work.

But back to the book.

I’m only on “January,” but I am completely digging it. It’s all about the steps the author took to hike up her energy levels, and one of the chief ways she did that was to clean and organize. Oooh, music to Momover Lady’s ears.

I’m impressed with the way Rubin labels the particular clutter in her life, and, in so doing, makes it damn near impossible to let it stick around. Some of it’s self-explanatory. Nostalgic Clutter, for instance, is carryover from ancient projects and previous lives, and Rubin cites a massive box of materials from a seminar she’d taught ages ago as an example.

In my case, I have clips of magazine articles I wrote literally 15 years ago that I’m still hanging on to. Insanity. Move on, little doggie…

But I was most impressed by a few new clutter categories Rubin identified for herself – and, by extension, so many of her readers. Like Crutch Clutter, which includes all the depressingly shitty clothes we let clog up our drawers. Recently, I’ve been zeroing in on all my less-than-stellar sleepwear. Why should I subject poor Hubby to that? So at least three times this week, I’ve taken something off my bod in the morning and tossed it right in the trash.

One pocket of gizmos and gew gaws – Aspirational Clutter – has always been my weakness. This is the stuff we hoard in the hopes that we’ll actually use it some day. For Rubin, it was a glue gun she never learned how to operate. For me, I think it might be the still-in-its-box, state-of-the-art food processor we got as a wedding present. In 2004. (Update: Oops, I got hitched in 2003. How time flies when you’re having fun!)

But then again, I only really started cooking about five minutes ago. So maybe I’ll eventually get around to using that food processor. See? See how I rationalize my Aspirational Clutter?

The only thing I can say in my defense is that I’ve recently resurrected several crafts projects – namely knitting and potholder making – that I’d let languish for years. And I now have several groovy new scarves and a tidy little pile of festive potholders to thank for my minor hoarding.

But I’m sure there’s a middle ground between extreme order and a secret stash of Aspirational Clutter. And I can’t wait to keep reading and find out.

Ssssh….don’t tell Aunt Jan, but there’s a banging Cleopatra costume hanging in my closet that I’ll be forcing her into tomorrow night. It’s actually oddly pretty, and I’m considering re-purposing some of the extras, like the wristlet thing-a-ma-jigs.

Go here and take a look, and see if you don’t agree with me that, in the vast ocean of slutty and desperate fare on offer these days, ol’ Cleo’s ensemble is pretty upscale.

I mean, can we please discuss how incredibly thoughtful I am? First I pull together that entire Nate Berkus scenario for her – the flowers, the heartfelt note, the fluffy towels, the soaps. And then I take the time, out of my very busy schedule, to select a costume for her that won’t make her want to slit her wrists as she’s making polite chit-chat with people she’s never laid eyes on at our neighbors’ annual bash.

I am too good. Sister of the Year.

I think I’ve mentioned that in my next life, I’d like to come back as The Wee Lass? Well, now it’s because she’s had her little Draculaura get-up custom-fitted by the tailor. I know – insanity. But the skirt was falling off her, and after being jammed in a ball in its plastic hanging bag, it was a wrinkled mess.

As for Momover Lady, I’ll be in the Frontier Spirit number here. Minus those boot covers, because I couldn’t fit them over my calves. Wack-a-doodle, since I’m clocking in at 105 pounds right now. Something is clearly wrong with them, so they’ve already been donated to the tot-let’s dress-up collection. In their stead I’ll be swapping in those great Sand Moccasin Boots by Hearts of Darkness that I nabbed at Moo Shoes last month.

And quelle surprise, that jaunty coonskin cap the model is sporting here is a disaster. It reeked like it’d dipped in vat of chemicals. Or maybe it really was a raccoon at some point? Gads. Right into the trash with that sucker. But I’ve got lots of faux fur headbands and a trapper hat, so I’ll make it work.

It’s kind of fun to take one of these el cheapo costumes and – cliché alert – “make it your own” by luxing it up with really good accessories and footwear. And it also takes the trampiness level down a notch, even if you’ll be showing a little skin.

And I’ll be breaking out the industrial strength bronzer, too. Actually, I should probably try to squeeze in a spray tan instead. Project. Happy Halloween!

I’m not very button-y or badge-y (and if I don’t add some link love, stat, I will die of shame), but if you cast your eyes ever so slightly down and to the left here, you’ll see one for SAY Media. I’m a proud curator of the parenting channel of SAY 100, so that’s what that badge represents.

It was just dumb luck that I found my way to SAY. Or that SAY found its way to me. But it’s been so much fun. SAY is the new digital wind beneath Jane Pratt’s wings, and if you’re not already addicted to xoJane, hightail it over there immediately.

A lifetime ago, Jane and I reported in to the same Editorial Director – Patrick McCarthy, whom I will worship until the day I die – and she was soooo friendly and warm, despite all the famous friends and general bad-assness. Team Jane.

Anyway, SAY reached out to me recently to conduct an e-interview about my thoughts about the mommy | daddy blogosphere – and where I fit into the mix. I was very honest about my path here, which is completely convoluted because Momover debuted on the Cookie website during the Stone Age, and has undergone a few plot twists.

If you’re a writer – and especially if you’re an aspiring mommy or daddy blogger – you might enjoy our chat. TGIF, my lovelies.

Cartwheel time: My sister arrives tomorrow night for a week-long visit. Though we’re in frequent touch via phone and email, it’s been far too long since we’ve been in each other’s actual physical orbit. Tsk tsk…

The Wee Lass is over the moon that Aunt Jan is headed our way, and is already trying to find a good hiding place for her ratty old “night-night” blankie. I keep trying to tell her that no one has a problem with it, and it’s not like she’s addicted.

Here’s how I know she’s not chemically dependent on that now truly gruesome hunk of cloth: About an hour or so into Road Trip 2011, I turned to Hubby and silently mouthed: “Oh. My. Effing. God. We left the night-night behind!” And guess what? For 16 days, sans blankie, she somehow managed to sleep and have the time of her little old life.

Because I’m theoretically a grown-up, I figure I need to kick up the guest-prep a notch beyond night-night hiding. And scrolling through my mental Rolodex, I remembered a great ep of Nate Berkus that was all about making your overnight visitors feel welcome.

So this morning, I tried, in vain, to track down that particular show on The Cute One’s wonderful website. No luck. Then I tried Googling a whole mess o’ stuff, and in so doing, discovered that The Cute One has his very own line of bedding. Of course The Cute One has his very own line of bedding.

Anyway, ace detective that I am, I finally arrived at bits and pieces of what I was after in an in-depth interview Boston Mamas conducted with Nate. (Jealous much?)

I will now recap a little bit of the Boston Mamas chat, mixed-in with snippets of Momover Lady’s very own memory.

Without further ado, here are Nate’s tips and must-haves for making Aunt Jan feel cozy chez moi:

1. Fresh flowers in a pretty vase. Doesn’t have to be a lot. A few will do.

2. Brandy new, fluffy white towels, laid at the foot of the bed. Why not fuchsia or some other snazzy hue? Think about it, Nate implored. When you stay at a hotel, don’t you want to know that the towels you’re using are as bleached to smithereens as humanly possible? Colored towels don’t give you that same level of comfort. In other words, you don’t know what types of stains might be embedded within.

3. A lovely gift-wrapped soap, plopped on top of the aforementioned brandy new, fluffy white towels.

4. A luggage rack. That’s extra credit, but such a nice touch, yes? Per Nate, some guests, particularly for short stays, don’t like to unpack. I’m guessing Aunt Jan will want to, so I’m clearing drawers for her. And yes, I’m bucking for Sister of the Year.

5. A book or two or three on the nightstand, with a heartfelt, handwritten “I thought you might enjoy these” note. I’ve already saved Andre Agassi’s psychotically good memoir from a pile of books that was headed for Salvation Army. Now I have to poke around for something else to re-gift. But I refuse to part with my precious Seaside Knitters mysteries! She’s not getting those!

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Oh, there were so many more awesome Nate tips, including typing up menus for dinner – even if you’re only serving meatloaf.

But I unfortunately have to dash out of here for a lunch with my friend Deb. (Who has an amazing new jewelry line I’ll be sharing with you in an upcoming post.) And aprés dejeuner, it’s off to Target to procure the fluffy white towels and the lovely gift-wrapped soap. Cheers!

UPDATE: My sis (aka Aunt Jan) has since read this post and chimed-in that she might just like some bottled water to go along with her towels, her soap, her flowers, her books and her heartfelt handwritten note. And I quote:..”A couple of bottles of Aquafina / Dasani / Evian / Arrowhead / Whatever Brand laid out on the towels would be cool.” Well, alrighty. Coming right up. WTH is Arrowhead?

First let me say that I have never seen so much food at a press breakfast in my life. It was like Thanksgiving, except at 10 o’clock on a morning that isn’t in November. Yum to the nth degree.

Second, let me say that I was seated across the table from Kimberly “Beauty Detox Solution” Snyder, whom I’ve blogged about, and interviewed via phone several times but never met face to radiantly glowing face.

For the record, Kim’s as cute up close and personal as she is on her book cover, and that never happens. (Although Kathy Freston also springs to mind. There: Kathy and Kim. Two examples of exceptionally beauteous book authors.)

Third, let me say that Equinox Fitness Clubs’ new blog – Q - (which is what we were feasting in celebration of) is as sexy, luxe and aspirational as the gyms themselves.

Helmed by ex-Daily Candy and SELF-sters – Jasmine Moir and Liz Miersch, respectively – the verrry content-rich blog taps a deep well of expert resources from the worlds of art, music, entertainment, fashion and design.

Yes there’s fitness, but even the how-to videos look like they were shot by Herb Ritts. Or like that Chris Isaak video with Helena Christensen rolling around in the black sands of Waikiki, or wherever that was. No verbal cues to put your left leg here and right hand there. Just great music and stunning imagery. Brills.

There are hangover-free healthy drinks recipes by hunky mixologists; service-y fashion pieces to help you re-purpose those spendy leggings you just nabbed in the Equinox shop, and wellness | lifestyle fare that can show you how to pick a yoga retreat that suits your needs or streamline your skincare regimen.

Lovely to look at, chock-full of info and open to everyone. I likey.

Okay, the BlogHer Writers ’11 conference? I had the best damn time.

And that should totally learn Momover Lady something. Because I’m not “join-y” by nature, I almost never go to events that fall outside of my beauty | wellness | crunchy | magazine-industry comfort zone. So it was a touch brave of me to dump myself into that vast sea of ambitious, talented women.

I learned a lot, the agenda really moved along at a fast clip and there were different tracks to slot yourself into, depending on where you are in your writing life.

And of course – duh – I met some great people, which you will undoubtedly be hearing more from me about in upcoming posts:

Amy “When Did I Get Like This” Wilson

Julia “Somewhere In Transition” Barclay

Jana “An Attitude Adjustment” Llewellyn

Elke “Mamalode” Govertsen

Plus, there were three speakers who charmed me to pieces.

One – Dominique Browning - I was already eagerly anticipating. We’ve both worked for the same behemoth publisher, and been attached to magazines that folded. (Please, I’m not putting myself in the same league as Dominique Browning, I’m just connecting dots here on a crazy-busy Monday morning…)

The two other smart, charming writers I hadn’t been aware of before the conference. (The Barbie Bubble again.) And upon hearing them chatter oh-so-modestly about their careers, I was enchanted:

Ann Napolitano

Kathy Cano-Murillo

Clearly, I am in the mood to celebrate women writers. So I will now turn your attention to a lovely lady who was not at the conference: La Fonda.

It’s no secret that I worship Jane Fonda. But in reading her densely – and I mean densely – researched new book, I almost feel as if she’s installed video cams all over my home and my life. She is so completely nailing much of what I’m thinking and feeling that it’s uncanny.

Although she’s a quarter-century older than I am, Fonda kicks off Prime Time at precisely the age I am now. (Extremely late 40s, if you must know.) There is a lot that happens physically, mentally and emotionally to gals in my “demo” and I am honored to have this dogged reporter, this eloquent collector and sharer of life experiences, to carry the torch down the tunnel.

There’s lots of science in Prime Time, which means it’s not the riveting read that “My Life So Far” was and is.

But for femmes d’un certain age, like me, it’s a roadmap for the next act. How much do I love “my” Jane? Buckets.

Last night, en route to the cocktail hour(s) kickoff for the BlogHer Writers ’11 Conference (ooh, how very join-y of shy, shy Momover Lady) I saw an item on Page Six of the New York Post that completely supports my theory that women’s shoes have become weapons of mass destruction.

I almost hate to repeat the tale, because it must have been so cringe-inducing for the poor gal involved. But I feel like I’m doing a public service to all of you hot mamas who have the good sense not to read the majorly mean-spirited Page Six.

So here’s the CliffsNotes-style recap: After presenting a really important award to Katie Holmes at Marie Claire’s Women On Top event on Wednesday afternoon, the mag’s Editor In Chief did a face-plant in front of 200 VIPs. The culprit? Six-inch purple YSLs. The item then wraps up with a quote from Katie about how she, too, took a tumble while carrying little Suri. Nice nod to girl-power solidarity, but grrr…

I’m like the biggest hypocrite for writing this post, because I’ve blogged in defense of Rachel Zoe’s monster preggo heels, and regaled you with the story about the time some crazed bitch accosted me in a subway car because I was wearing spikes while I, too, was with child.

But still, I think this situation is getting a teensy weensy bit dire. We have Brandi Glandville hobbling around on crutches on RHOBH, the entire female cast of Jersey Shore face-down in the cobblestone streets of Firenze and the overload of stripper heels in every shoe store I venture into. Seriously. It is ridiculous.

Okay, that’s my rant du jour. Gotta get back to the BlogHer conference – in my cruelty-free, extremely cute and comfy flat boots.

Back in the day, when the Wee Lass was known around these parts as the Diapered Darling (or, more frequently, Demanda), I was a complete eco-vigilante about the products that were used on her. No phthalates, no parabens, no artificial dyes and fragrances, no this, no that.

There was a real reason for that; infant skin is extremely thin and permeable, and highly reactant to irritants.

But now that she’s a big kid, and busting moves in her Wednesday afternoon hip-hop classes, I’ve lightened up on the all-natural front. And I don’t know that that’s especially brilliant of me. In fact, I’m pretty sure it isn’t.

That’s why I’ve invited Wendy Lucas, General Manager of Desert Essence – the much beloved all-natural personal care line – to be my special blog guest today.

Wendy and her team have just developed a really lovely organic baby and nursery line, so I knew she’d be the perfect person to shame me into doing right by my daughter.

So let’s all give a warm welcome to Wendy, and dive into a little Q & A.

MOMOVER LADY: Now that my tot isn’t so little – 5 1/2, to be exact – the products in her bathroom are a mix of “good” stuff and “bad” stuff. From your research in developing this new baby range for Desert Essence, do you believe that it’s important to stay vigilant about using the good stuff – even for kids who aren’t babies anymore?

WENDY: It’s very important to keep using natural products on children, as they’re in a period of growth and development all the way through their teen years. Once your children are teens, it will be hard to control everything they use. If you set them up using natural products, you’ve set up a healthy foundation for them. I have a 5 1/2-year old myself, and as long as I pick what she uses, I stay with natural and organic products because her skin is still delicate. Once she’s a teenager, she’ll probably use whatever she likes best. I sure hope she likes Desert Essence best!

MOMOVER LADY: If you had to pick the product that is most important for moms to go the natural route with, what would that be? Diaper cream? Body lotion?

WENDY: I think anything that stays on a baby’s skin is very important, so body lotion and body oil for massage. Diaper Rash Cream is probably the most important, as it’s applied many times during the day.

MOMOVER LADY: You’ve been in beauty a long time. Did you ever think you’d see the day when you’d be creating topically applied personal care products that are nut-, wheat- and soy-free? Navigating the allergy mine-field seems trickier than ever.

WENDY: I’ve worked in both mass and now natural products, so no, I didn’t think I’d be navigating such stringent restrictions on personal care products. At the same time I joined the natural business, I had a beautiful baby girl who happens to be extremely sensitive to additives in products. My other daughter’s best friend is highly allergic and his mom has to bring everything from home for him to eat wherever they go.

I think that any company that can help these moms find products that contain limited ingredients – and perform – are the companies I want to be around and support.

MOMOVER LADY: I couldn’t agree more. Thank you for setting me straight. The Wee Lass’s bathroom is getting an overhaul, stat.

Last night before we went to bed, I chit-chatted with Hubby as he chopped up a cantaloupe for the Wee Lass’s school lunch. How nice, I thought, that I have a Hubby who not only shops for the cantaloupe, he chops it too. The shopper-chopper. “This is good,” he said, handing me a chunk. “Yum.”

Cut to this morning, I’m making the bed between slurps of coffee and half-listening to the Today Show. But then my ears perk up when someone – Matt, Ann, whomever – starts talking about a listeria outbreak traced to tainted cantaloupe, the deadliest food-borne illness in a quarter century. So far, 25 people have died.

I gulped. And I Googled. And within seconds I found info: The melons were grown by Jensen Farms of Holly, Colorado. Whew, safe. There’s no way East coasters need to worry about those melons.

Not so fast. After a bit more recon, I see that Jersey is one of the many states under recall.

I dove into the trash, searching for the plastic bag Hubby had placed the peels in. Finding it, I’m ripping through hunks of rind until I find the label, which read Turlock Fruit / Peacock # 4050. Visiting the Turlock Fruit website, I felt a little better. They’re addressing this god-awful situation on the home page, and ensuring customers that their fruit is fine.

In the everything-happens-for-a-reason vein, I remembered that the October issue of Good Housekeeping has a big piece on protecting your family from foodborne illness.

I think I’ve bought Good Housekeeping exactly once in my life – last week, while waiting in line at Target, I got suckered in by both cover girl Ellen DeGeneres’s cheerful vegan vibe and the “Make Your Kitchen Clutter-Free” article tease.

And right now, I’m really glad I did. Although I urge you to pick up the magazine yourself, I just want to share a few tips I found extremely helpful:

1. When you’re shopping, keep raw meats away from the other items in your cart. You don’t want any juices leaking on anything.

2. Don’t wash raw meats. Sounds counterintuitive, but you’re only really spraying potential bugs all over your sink and countertop.

3. Use separate chopping boards for raw meats and produce.

4. Buy a meat thermometer and USE it. I’m thinking of getting the OXO digital one Good Housekeeping recommends.

5. Choose your restaurant burgers carefully. A fast-food chain is likelier to cook its meats to the right temperature than your corner joint.

Food for thought. And on that note, I’m going upstairs to help my St. Louis-born Hubby root for the Cardinals in the World Series. Be safe, my Momoverettes.