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“No matter how little money and how few possessions you own, having a dog makes you rich.”

As I sit here typing, I am listening to love songs on my computer. If you go down the song list on this page, you’ll get an idea of what I’m hearing right now. I don’t know about you, but when I listen to sexy love songs, I can’t help but get in the mood. I can only guess, but love songs do for me what porn must do for most men. Vava vooom–I’m in the mood. Most of the time, the entire act of love making is not what I’m day dreaming about. Usually, when amore is on my mind, my thoughts tend to drift towards baciarsi (Italian -“to touch lips”) with a handsome man.

Are any of you like this–a kissing fantasizer? I’m sure most of us, when we fantasize, have the obvious ‘wild thing’ in mind, but for me, kissing a man is the ultimate in daydreaming. (Okay, okay, I know I’m married…don’t get excited…I’m fantasizing here!) I mean, did you ever see someone you were immediately attracted to and think to yourself…omg…I would love to kiss that guy!! (of course you won’t actually kiss him, but there’s always the very tempting thought!) See Mr. Big down there kissing Carrie Bradshaw? He is the one man who’s been clogging my brain with fantasy thoughts of making out. He’s just so sexy the way he tips his head and closes his eyes while he kisses. Chris Noth is definately a man I’d like to have all to myself someday. If I had one wish…

I wonder if Sarah Jessica Parker can honestly say his on screen kisses were better than her husband’s? I suppose we’ll never know. However, my gut instinct tells me Matthew Brodderick just doesn’t measure up in the smooching department. But who am I to say, he isn’t my husband.

By the way, my husband is an excellent kisser…just the kind I like. I remember when we were teenagers we’d spend hours making out…the kissing was so hot.There is a problem now, though. My better half has decided to become addicted to pipe and cigar smoking. He is a chain smoker and he just doesn’t seem to care that his brown teeth and ashtray breath have taken a toll on my desire to cuddle with him and kiss. It’s a turn off to kiss someone with cigar breath. I guess after 23 years of marriage the kisses do begin waning…it is sad.

Is there anything on earth better than kissing someone for the first time? The moment when you finally smooch someone you’ve wanted for so long , surrendering to them with a deep, long, juicy, nothing-like-the-first-one passionate kiss is, in my opinion, one of lifes simple pleasures. It’s like heaven, isn’t it? For some, however, it can be like hell. My friend Laura and I both agree that a first kiss can definately make or break a fledgling relationship. Before I was married, I dated a few other guys. I have experienced The Bad Kiss that took me from 10-0 in about 3 seconds on the desire scale. Laura is very honest when she tells me– if a guy is a bad kisser, that’s it–he’s done. There really isn’t any recovering from a bad kiss. It’s like a balloon that’s been deflated.

It’s true. You only get one first kiss with each new person. It’s quite obvious, I know, but for that reason alone, it’s very important to make your first kiss a memorable one. You’ll never get another one. That initial smooch can either send you to the the moon or spiraling down a very bumpy hill.

If you’d like some tips on becoming a better kisser, jump over to Amazon.com and search for, The Art of Kissing by William Kane. It describes all kinds of juicy tips and techniques worth trying. It’s quite an entertaining book! Get your hands on it, read up and educate yourself in the art of love. Then wait for a rainy, stormy night and kiss the night away with exciting new ways of turning your lover on via the kiss. Pucker up! Kiss your husband, wife or lover. There’s nothing better than being wrapped up in someone’s arms and passionately kissing. May your days always find you in a lip lock with the object of your desires. Caio!

I was reading an old issue of Oprah magazine, (which, by the way, is very substantive reading), and caught an article about womens’ friendships and how important they are to us gals.
Apparently, women value their friendships much more than men do. They take them more seriously, sincerely care about what’s going on in the lives of their women friends and feel a genuine need for regular sisterly togetherness.

The article said women who have viable friendships throughout their lives, in particuliar as they grow older, tend to live longer and suffer from less illness than women who don’t have many confidants. Having friends you see regularly helps to reduce stress, improve the immune system and offers a support system that can rival the ear of even the most qualified psychiatrist. Seems women have figured it out, or maybe it’s just something hardwired in us from the beginning of time. Women need the company of women just because.

I can speak from my own experiences. At this point in my life I have a handful of friends I know I can count on. They bring me incredible joy and their place in my life is immeasurable. Because I’m a very open and frank person, I find it incredibly satisfying to be able to tell my friends what’s on my mind, no matter what. They are like my therapists. They also make me laugh, help me through tough times and celebrate the happy times and being with them just makes me feel healthier.

When I was younger and while I was raising my kids, I didn’t have near the friends I have now. Of course my children were my main focus, and even then I still managed to have two regular friends, both with the name Cindy. Only one Cindy has remained. I’ve since lost contact with the other, having moved to a new town. Now that my kids are almost grown and my husband works at home, I have more time to foster my friendships. I can tell you these women are very important elements in my life. I have a Girlfriend Friday group which consists of about 8 women who have known me since the early grades of grammer school. We meet once a month and make it a point to never miss a Friday. We look forward to a meal together and a night of sitting around the table just talking and catching up on eachothers’ lives. The laughter is infectious on these Friday nites. My other group of friends are the women I met on the internet about 6 years ago through a Delphi forum. These women all share my interests in doll making and crafting/sewing. We have gathered together many times for crafting getaways where we all sit at a table with our sewing machines, laugh, sip on cocktails and share our stories and lives with eachother. We also hit the antique shops and flea markets to seek out our favorite vintage treasures. The projects we work on are just something to keep our hands busy while we enjoy our time together. The laughter alone from any of these groups probably adds a week to my life each time I see them. When I’m with them, I feel bettter. My whole soul just sings when I’m with my girlfriends. Nothing beats the sisterhood of women.

Just over the last 6 years or so girlfriends have really become an integral part of my life. My friends are simply fabulous. There are things I can divulge to them I could never tell my husband. Their time spent with me is something I treasure. I want these women to grow old with me….to be there all through the coming years. I hope we’ll all be around for a long time because between us all there is enough laughter to keep us going for a long time–and hopefully healthy for the next 30 years.

Okay, after last night’s novella…I thought I’d make a simple, short post this evening. I know many of you may be wondering what is with these vintage pinup gals? Well, here’s the straight dope on why these ladies grace my blog page. Although I don’t look as thin as these beauties, deep inside, I feel like a pinup girl. Friends, my 40’s experience has left me feeling sexier, smarter, wiser and more confident than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. These girls represent how good I feel inside and out. Maybe someday, after a year or so at the gym, I will be as shapely as these ladies. But until then, I’ll be a curvier version of them. Ah, what the heck…there’s plenty of sexy men who prefer a larger lady. I’ll take those men any day.

See that pinup girl up there with her back to you? Well, that’s me. So glad you stopped by!

As I cleaned my house this week, thoughts of paring down were running through my head. My family has been cursed so to speak, with the lengthy process of ‘digging out’ my late mother-in-law’s house. She was a pack rat. I seriously believe she was afflicted with the ‘hoarding disease,’ a psychological ailment which makes people feel as though they can’t throw anything away. In addition to a reluctance to pitch things out, they also feel the need to ‘rescue’ things from the doom of a garbage can or the clearance rack.

As we began the cleaning out process, we couldn’t believe our eyes. Her apartment had literally one path to walk through–and it was a narrow one. Larry’s mom was a very large woman and honestly, I don’t know how she managed to navagate through the tiny maze she made for herself. As far as I can tell, she could no longer use her bathtub for the amount of stuff she had piled up in front of it. I can’t even imagine what she was thinking when she allowed the items she was collecting to invade her living space.

I’m telling you all of this because my husband and I both felt the need to sort through everything in the house before we got rid of it all. We were searching mainly for important things like letters and clues as to who my husband’s father was, and for financial documents, missing stock certificates, etc. By sorting through a box or two of her personal momentos, we collected enough clues to lead us to find Larry’s father. His name is Ed. We now know him and have a relationship with him. In addition to my father-in-law, but waning in comparison, we found some other treasures. Probably 95% of the items we handled were things she just bought multi-multiples of over the years. Consequently, we brought car loads (yes, you read right. Car loads) of boxes and bags home to sort in the comfort of our home. We ended up keeping some of it, and most of what was salvagable is piled high in my dining room waiting to be put up on eBay. I can’t see my dining room table. The mess is seriously starting to make me nervous. My 1 car garage port is 1/3 filled with her boxes of papers. Even in death, her sickness is now afflicting our home.

Here is an approximate idea of what we sorted through. (Humor me and read this. I want to give you an appreciation for how bad it really was.) All numbers are approximate.

150 bags of second-hand jewelry still in the thrift store sacks. We found them lying in random places all over her apartment where she probably dropped them after returning home from shopping for them. These bags weren’t small. Each contained probably 5 lbs or more of jewelry.

350 boxes of perfectly folded fabric in various blends and fabric content.

300 boxes of newly purchased, now vintage clothing sorted by size, season and type. All these items still had the tags on them. (oh Madonne!)

100 bags of books

About 3000 (yes, that was 3K) garments on hangers, most still with the tags still on them.

About 65 Rubbermaid tubs of clothing, most still with tags.

Every freakin’ piece of used clothing she ever bought from the beginning of time.

Boxes upon boxes of papers (okay, I’ll give you a number… probably around 150)–junk mail from the last 20 years, probably every utility bill she ever received, her companies records, files and financials and misc. papers. Absolutely daunting.

200 bags of miscellaneous crap. Oh. My. God. Including bags, drawers and boxes of recyclable items. You can imagine–Carboard tubes, plastic dishwashing bottles, boxes of bottle caps, dry rotted rubber bands and worse!

All this in a four room apartment plus attic.

It’s only now that I’ve given you a rundown of the horror I’ve had to sort through over the last 3 years, that you can begin to sympathize with me. This ordeal has left the beautiful home I live in a bit of a wreck. I’m sure my childrens’ friends wonder why the hell we have so much stuff. I try to assure them most of it’s not mine and it’s only temporary, but they just smile and look at me funny.

Oh, how I hate it. I have begun pitching things. I am now bringing weekly carloads to my local Goodwill, and I’m convinced our donations alone have kept the store’s inventory stocked for the last 2 months. I want my house back. I am declaring war on ‘stuff’. I vow not to do to my children what has been done to me. My new motto is, “If you can’t see it, you don’t need it.” and how about this one, for all you folks out there who spend precious time searching for items you know you have but cannot find, “If you can’t find it, you don’t really have it?”

I’m convinced the only way to have a truly clean house is to pare down. Have only what you need. Surround yourself with a few things you love. I often ask myself this question, “If there was a fire and I could only save one material thing, not including personal family momentos, financial documents or photographs, what would it be? After doing a mental inventory of the items I own, I can honestly say, “I haven’t a clue!” Nothing means that much to me. So, question number 2. “Why, Emily, do you have all this stuff, if it’s basically meaningless to you?” Can I really put value on any of the things I own? Do I really need 25 stacks of fabric? Do I need every knitting book on the Amazon.com book list? Do I need and will I actually wear all the clothing I’m purchasing, no matter how great a bargain they were? The answer is no. And it doesn’t make me feel luxurious to wallow in my possessions, either. Owning a bunch of crap does nothing for me. I just want to simplify, streamline, have a fling fest, whatever. I need to eliminate from my life the things I no longer need. I’m in no way even at the point of where my husband’s mom was. And truthfully, I’m not a packrat at all. I have no problem tossing things out or donating items–None whatsoever. (Half my battle is trying to convince my husband to go along with me and get pitch happy. He is, after all, his mother’s son. The pack rat gene is in him and from what Ed tells me, he too, is also a chronic collector.)

No, I’m not turning into a Bhuddist monk, giving away everything except the shirt on mine and my kids’ backs. I’ve just come to my senses. If I own a lot less, life will become simpler. My homekeeping will become managable and take less time. I will no longer have to shuffle items from place to place to make things appear tidy. All I need to do is shovel them out once and the shuffling will cease. I want to surround myself with a few things that I love, like a painting or two that make my heart sing, my white ironstone pitcher collection tucked neatly in the curio, and a chotchky or two that make me smile. I should stop buying things on clearance at Target just because the stuff is cheap and attractive to look at. If you don’t need it, it’s not a good deal no matter how cheap it is. Most importantly, when the door bell rings unexpectedly, I won’t cringe to let someone in because the house is a disaster.

I read a Country Home article a year or so ago about Mary Chapin Carpenter’s new farmhouse somewhere in the South. For someone who has money, her home didn’t scream ‘filthy rich.’ Her decorating style was simple–white walls, creamy white slipcovered furniture, minimal decorative accents and one lone painting on the wall. Apparently the painting was given to her as a gift and reminded her of some place special–It was all she needed. The furniture she had looked like it was of great quality. She leads a simple life. Her home was clean and had the look of being a very serene place to live. That’s what I want.

In some aspects, my mother in law was miserable during her last years. She lamented many times to me about how she needed to clean her house. She told me I have no idea how much stuff she has. And indeed I didn’t, since she never allowed any of us up into her apartment. We were clueless as to the degree of her hoarding. I know she would have died more peacefully if she didn’t have to worry about what we would think. I know her mess added tremendous stress to her life. It must have been very unsettling to her.

I will learn from her mistakes and will teach my children, too. Don’t you agree…material things can actually add to one’s unhappiness, and they really don’t bring us that much happiness? Do you want to liberate yourself from your own mess? Imagine how much more money we would all have if we collected less, purchased only what we needed and didn’t allow ourselves to succumb to advertising ploys that try to get us to spend, spend spend. I’m going to utilize my public library and take books out on loan. Then, after I’ve finished, I will return the book and keep the literary mess out of my house. I will now only own a book that I absolutely must have because I will refer to it many times over. Sorry Amazon.com.

So, my last question is…”Will you be a shoveller or a shuffler? I hope to see you all at the Goodwill!

Well, what can I say…it’s in my blood. I don’t like to stick with the same stuff all the time. I rearrange my furniture, rebuy dishes in new colors as the old ones crack and chip and put new banners and colors up on my blog on a monthly basis. I do it because it’s fun and keeps things interesting. It may also be the artist in me that is just never satisfied and always looking for something new and refreshing to display.

I came upon these pinup girl graphics a while ago, and I really love them! They are the perfect size for making banners. My daughter, the queen of myspace and html, effortlessly displayed her html skills to me when I asked her to help me put a tiled background on my blog. Oh, what a new world has been opened to me now! Folks, you will never get bored of Blond & Blithe!

I sometimes feel glamourous just like one of these pinup gals. I know I don’t look like one (in the body size) but I sure feel like one inside. Does that count for anything?

Enjoy!

A Chicago heatwave is just part of July. It goes with the territory. From what I hear, most of the U.S. is sweltering. Wish we could all look as good as the gal to our right when we’re overheated–she’s a 1947 pinup girl.