That "Look"

I had breakfast the other morning with two really interesting women.  I was meeting them both for the first time on the recommendation of a mutual friend who thought we should know each other because we're all self-employed in businesses where there might be an opportunity to work together.    I think he probably dated all three of us at some point, but that's another story...plus, I don't know it for sure, though it's a pretty good bet.  Anyway, it was nice of him to bring us together (and to pick up the check).

We are all women-of-a-certain age, but I feel we have the verve of women who are much younger.  They both looked really great:  energetic, fit, and stylishly dressed.  Actually, I should clarify:  they looked great...from the neck down.

They both had that weird, too-wide-eyed, skin too smooth and shiny, slightly "off" look of women who've had a tad too much facial work done.  I hated it.  I was unable to keep up with the conversation because I kept staring at their faces and having my own private conversation in my head:  "Do they like the way they look"?

I hate that we have become a society so obsessed with youth that it is almost more acceptable to have bad cosmetic work done than to have a few (or a lot of) wrinkles.   And I consider it "bad" if I can tell you've had it.


And here's the thing:  I don't know if having cosmetic surgery really fixes "the problem".  Many women I see still seem self-conscious and uncomfortable about their age and their looks, even after they've had the work done.  It's like a trick has been played on them.

I understand why women go under the knife when they work in the entertainment industry and their livelihood depends on remaining forever young.  All others, though?  I wish they'd get over it.  There's nothing wrong with a few lines and a little crow's feet.  You're 50, for Pete's sake!


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What's That Smell?

Every now and then I think I should probably get married and/or have some children.   This usually happens when I hear news about a decaying body being found in an apartment.   The body is not found by a loved one, but usually by the Super or the police because neighbors complained about a foul smell coming from the apartment.   It wouldn’t happen like that if that poor soul didn’t live alone.  That’s when I realize that poor soul could be me.

I actually did the math once and determined that it would probably take about four days after my untimely death (any death of mine would be “untimely”) for my rotting corpse to be found.  Sometimes I hear on the news or read in the newspaper about people who knew “immediately” that something was wrong because “she didn’t show up to work” or “she didn’t answer the door” or “she didn’t return my call”.   None of these would apply to me.    If I didn’t show up to work, didn’t answer the door or didn’t return a phone call, people would just think I was being a flake.

It would probably take two days of my absence for my friends and family to raise an eyebrow, so that by day three they’d start asking around.  It would take another day for them to connect and realize that no one had heard from me and to make a bigger inquiry by involving my Super or the police…but by then I would already have started to smell.

 I’m hoping that dear Danny, the world’s cutest dog, might have barked at my motionless body before it lay there for four days, which would hopefully spur the neighbors to come and see what’s wrong.  (This is kinda gross, isn't it?)

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Spinster-minus-licious

"I am so over this single thing".

This is a text message I received late the other night.  The sender is my good friend, Jackie, who would appear -- from the outside-- to be the epitome of Spinsterliciousness (even though she, technically, isn't a Spinster).   She's a good-looking chick, a well-paid marketing executive who takes frequent vacations throughout the world, has an active social life and a close relationsip with her family.  But I guess that's mostly external stuff and they don't quite matter.   Correction. Of course they matter.   I don't think Jackie wants to lose any of this, but they can't fix what's ailing her.

What's ailing her is that she is  tired, really tired of being single.  When she got divorced, I think we all assumed she'd remarry pretty quickly.   Now, here it is 12 years later and no husband or husband-to-be on the horizon.  And she hates it.

Now what?

I really didn't want to give a bunch of platitudes ("don't worry, he's out there"; "you'll find him when you're least expecting it"; blah blah).   First of all, they sound empty and insincere to me.  But more importantly, the odds aren't in her favor.  Women-of-a-certain age do get married, but not nearly as easily as men-of-a-certain-age.

And I didn't want to try to talk her into loving being single because that's not what she wants.   It really made me think.   What's supposed to happen here?

I don't care to be married but I do wish the prospects were better for my friends who do.


The drawing to the right is by Van Gogh.  Supposedly, when he finished it,  he appended it with a quote from Jules Michelet's treatise "La Femme" (1860)

"The worst fate for a woman is to live alone. Alone! Just to pronounce the word is sad.  And how on earth does it happen that a woman is alone?  Are there no longer any men? Have we arrived at the end of the world?"

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A Great Life Lesson From My Favorite Guy.

I feel so lucky to have had Samuel Wells, Sr in my life for 50 years.  He was handsome and funny and strong and I think he thought I was pretty much perfect.  

One time when my aunt playfully "told on me" that I'd been cursing, he replied " Oh, I don't think El would do that". (i was in my 30s at the time so it wouldn't have been that much of a transgression).  You don't have to spend much time with me to know that I have a bit of a potty mouth but it didn't matter.   Sam was not going to let anybody say anything bad about me...even in jest...unless, of course, it was him.   He never understood why I wear my hair the way I do and would often laughingly ask me "what happened" and whether i wanted to borrow his comb.

He was an old-fashioned man.  He grew up in rural McCormick, SC, one of 10 children in a family  of sharecroppers.   As soon as he was able, he headed North
to make a living and change his destiny.   Perhaps because he was a child of The Depression or because he knew what it meant to have not much, he was an amazing money manager.   Once I became an adult and learned his income, I was astounded at
(and so proud of)  how well he raised us on his blue-collar salary.   My mother
was able to be what they now call a stay-at-home-mom because Sam Wells was so good with a dollar.

But, Lordy, his money-management style drove me crazy when I was growing up.  His mantra was "if you can't pay for it, you can't afford it".   He had no use for credit cards.   "What's better than cash?"   So he would show up at the car dealer with cash in his pocket and smugly drive off the lot the same day in his brand new, already-paid-for car!

And, OMG, he actually paid my college tuition IN CASH!!  Every single time.  He couldn't have been more proud and I couldn't have been more embarrassed.  And, as you can imagine,  it always caused quite a stir at the bursar's office.  They
did not know what to do with a mound of cash.  Daddy didn't care.  To him, it was ridiculous that this big university in the fancy part of town couldn't

figure out what to do with cold, hard cash. They were going to have to figure it out, though.

So fast forward all these many years later and Sam Wells' mantra is alive, well, and still in my ear: If I can't pay for it, I can't afford it.    And I pretty much live by it.

I haven't exactly paid cash for a car, but my downpayment is usually about 50%.  And other than my mortgages, I don't carry debt.   I do use credit cards but I pay them off every single month.  To do anything less would be a letdown to my dad's legacy.  What a great lesson to leave with me.

I lost my dad in 2006 and I still miss him every day.  But I'm blessed to have a heartful of memories of our times together and his jokes, idiosyncrasies, andwise life lessons.  Happy Father's Day, Sam Wells...my favorite guy. 

Look for this and other great Father's Day tributes at Womens Voices for Change .

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The Dilemma

I had drinks a few weeks ago with an old friend.   Teresa and I went to high school together and hadn't seen each other pretty much since we graduated.   We re-met when she came to NYC for what could be called somewhat of a mid-life reinvention.    She decided she wants to change careers and she needed to come to New York for re-education and training.

I admire people who aren't afraid of change. Staying in place can be comfortable, but sometimes comfortable is also a euphemism for stuck.   So I think it's pretty cool that she uprooted her life at this age, moved to NYC, found an apartment, and dove right in.   This is especially notable because Teresa is married.   So now she has a commuter marriage.

I admire her husband, too, for "allowing" her to do this.   "Allowed" as in was supportive and didn't make it hard on her or try to make her feel guilty for leaving the marital home to satisfy her own needs.   Lots of guys wouldn't have done that, and I think it's great that he did.

Ok, so now, here's the clincher.   School's over, Teresa has graduated and now it's time to go back to the home, husband, friends, and life she left a year ago.   Except she's not sure that she wants to.  Nothing against the husband (as far as I know), but I think she fell in love with New York and her new life here.   Plus, NY (or LA) is where she needs to be to jumpstart this new career.  But hubby's waiting for her in a different city.  So now what?

And you know what (as I insert myself into the story), this is one of the things that always scared me about marriage.   How do two people grow in the same direction and want the same thing all their lives?   Here Teresa got a taste of a different life and she's liking it.  What does this mean for them as a couple?

 I don't think hubby wants to move here.  He's self-employed so starting over in a new city with a new customer base wouldn't be easy.  Plus, that wasn't their deal.   But Teresa's got a taste of a new life and new possible career and going back to what was may not work for her anymore.

I don't know what she's decided to do, but I don't envy her.   This is a tough one.   What would you do?



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What Inspires Me? Right Now, A Contest.

This is a bit of a different kind of post.  AOL is running a promotion with Jeep® as part of its Life is Legendary (www.jeeplegendarylife.aol.com/) campaign, saluting single women who are living inspired lives and embracing their freedom, achievements, and the journey.   The topic is What Inspires Me.


One of the things that inspire me is travel.  If I ever go broke, it won't be because I've bought too much stuff; it'll be because I wandered too far too many times.   There are few things I enjoy more than traveling.   I often think that's the real reason I work every day; so I can fund my next trip.   I want to go everywhere.  And I pretty much can, because I don't have to use my money on braces for the daughter I don't have or a business start-up for the husband I don't have.

Last year was a great travel year for me.  I went to London…just for the weekend in the fall.  Paris in May.   Martha's Vineyard, Morocco and the southern coast of Spain in August.   Paris and Martha's Vineyard were planned.   Morocco, Spain and London were more opportunistic; someone said "come" and I said "yes, indeed".  So Spinsterlicious, right?

I’ve traveled throughout the U.S. to major cities and small towns, plus Argentina, Brazil, China, Costa Rica, England, France, Hungary, Indonesia, Ireland, South Africa, Switzerland, Tanzania and United Arab Emirates.   Seeing the lives of others and experiencing their cultures, even though just briefly, is such a great experience for me.

Travel is eye-opening and mind-expanding.   It reminds me that there is rarely ever only one way to do something, or a single right answer to any question…and to always consider another point-of-view.

But there's no place like home, either.  I'm always thinking of packing my bags for my next adventure AND I'm always happy to plant my feet back on the soil of the good old U.S. of A.

I think part of what makes for a legendary life --a Spinsterlicious life--  is having the ability to stoke your passions. Mine is traveling.  What turns you on?

The  AOL/Jeep(r) sweepstakes has a Grand Prize of $4500, and a random weekly rewarding of a $50 gift card.  If you want to participate, here's what you'll need to do:

-Visit the AOL/Jeep microsite  (www.jeeplegendarylife.aol.com/).   It is a custom destination that allows you to develop an online Inspiration Board that chronicles things that represent you and who/what you aspire to become.  If you want, you can share it with your friends on Facebook (but you don't have to).

- I made  my Inspiration Board from pictures from my travels (Click "my Inspiration Board" in this sentence to see it). You can use your own photos or those that are provided on the site.

-Have fun with it!   Or skip it.  Totally up to you!  :-)





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Apologies to All...In Advance

Apologies for this post.  Apologies to you, dear reader, who might find it in poor taste and apologies to the woman who wrote me asking for my advice, in case she feels I embarrassed her.   I'm often asked for advice; I usually respond off-line, but sometimes I post about it.  (See Life's Too Short and Short Stint As An Advice Columnist).  I'm not a professional in this regard, I'm just a woman with an opinion.  This time, though, I was stumped.  Not so much about what to do in the immediate situation, but more about the subtext.  


So, here's what I'm going to do.  Below is the letter.  I'm asking you guys to answer it:

"I'm sitting at a bar by myself and I just ordered a cocktail after a hectic week.   I'm shocked this was my first one in a few days.  That's so unlike me.  That just shows how busy I've been.  I do not mind sitting alone but two really fat women just sat next to me.  Is it wrong if I move?  I'm hoping some cute boy might come along and buy me a drink. That's less likely to happen with [these big women*] sitting next to me." (*I re-worded a disparaging term for something more neutral].


What would you have said, if you received this note?  I'm dying to "hear".






NOTE:  If you like "Spinsterlicious" and want to be notified of new posts, please subscribe in the box on the right -or- if you have a Google Account, you can click on "Follow Me" also on the right, near the bottom.   You'll receive an email each time there's an update to the blog.  Don't miss a Spinsterlicious update!