You are Sixteen Going on Seventeen – Baby, It’s Time to Think

I haven’t posted for a month, and I am disappointed with myself. May was incredibly busy: work was overwhelming, and I was invited and attended a variety of graduations and commencements –  both high school and college.

I spent some delightful time with 16 and 17-year-olds, and heard their perspectives. These teenagers are pretty grounded. Practical are they, and fairly realistic. Yes, there is the occasional delusional one. They are facing major rites of passage: getting into college, leaving home for the first time, and trying to afford college. We had numerous conversations about all this, and I am appalled at what it costs to go to college in this country. And, there’s no guarantee that you come out knowing any more than when you entered.

Three of the kids were in the midst of taking their SATs, and they showed me the “new” SAT “book.” A revelation. There are no grammar or vocabulary sections as in the past, just endless, grindingly dull reading passages that are more an endurance test than any measure of…whatever this is supposed to measure. I read a few and there were questions that I wondered, and am still wondering, what in the name of God does this measure? I couldn’t find any scholarly or intellectual connection. I’m reaching the conclusion that it’s preparation – education be damned – to turn unsuspecting young people into industry fodder. Drones. If you can get through the test, probably take it numerous times, and if you don’t crack – you go to college and then get a job working for The Man where you spend the next many years paying off loans.

I also noticed a fair amount of propaganda in some of the SAT passages. I read one on fracking that implied that it’s a good thing, that there isn’t evidence yet to connect it to earthquakes in areas where they were never earthquakes, or with tap water that comes out in flames or dark brown. It’s all great! Another was on big pharma and GMOs and how much good they do. Jesus! These sweet kids receive these messages, and how are they to know there may be another point of view? Aside that this is all crap –  it isn’t even well-written mind control. There is one nod to literature: the first passage. That’s it! From what I can tell it is usually 19th Century: Dickens, Stevenson, Trollope, Shelley…none of whom these kids know.

I found all this unutterably discouraging and felt sincerely sorry for our future leaders. Plus they live in the suburbs which I am beginning to think is not as wonderful as one would think. It’s too sheltered and sanitized. How does one acquire any life skills? I am so grateful to my parents and our upbringing: we saw the world, we lived in it, and the thirst and love for knowledge was for knowledge’s sake. I see more and more how rare our experience was and how fortunate.

Okay, so not everyone gets to have that. Well, I would pick one of these kids who demonstrates a little gumption, and hand them a pile of money (how I would have the money is not a detail in this fantasy), say nearly a quarter of a million dollars, which is what I imagine the average cost would be for four years including travel, room and board, etc. I would put the pile of money into his/her hands and say, “Here, go travel the world, have meetings with remarkable people, have adventures, shed your middle class morality, spend time in Paris, Hong Kong, a brothel in Tangiers, kayak down a Tibetan gorge. Live!”

And then come back and question authority. Now that is an education.

“You are sixteen going on seventeen
Baby, you’re on the brink…”

Clare Irwin

 

 

 

 

Lyrics from The Sound of Music, by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein.

 

Thank You For The Days

These past two months have been busy and I haven’t had much down time. Work is a full court press, and I grab snatches of “me” time with middling success. I am also feeling a bit of melancholia. People who I care about deeply are seriously ill, some have passed, and others are nearing their end of time here on earth. The nature of things is not always easy to accept.

These circumstances led to my thinking a great deal about my family who are gone. My father most of all, but also my maternal grandmother, and my great grandmother. As I walk along the water and have time to empty my mind of the mundane, memories of them come – unbeckoned yet not unwelcome. I haven’t been able to shake this feeling and I am not sure I want to.

While I was driving the other day, I was stopped at a school crosswalk, and as I was waiting I turned on the local high school radio station. The song, “Darling Be Home Soon” came on, sung by Tedeschi Trucks. I had first heard the song right after my dad died and I burst into tears. I think it particularly affected me because the song was sung by a woman. In my detective work to find the song I discovered it was written by John Sebastian, and was also covered by Joe Cocker. It captured how I felt, the ache, and also the thankfulness for such love

Shortly after I first heard “Darling Be Home Soon,” I heard “Days” which did me in as well. As I was trying to discover the song writer, I saw a few people wrote that it was a song that was played at their fathers’ funerals. I learned it was written by Ray Davies of the Kinks. “Days” elicits the similar cathartic feeling, it’s a little darker –  the end point is acknowledged straightaway.

In the last week I have heard both these songs again on the radio. Curious chance of odds that I caught both randomly. I’d like to think that in the continuum where time and space collapse that the beauteous spirit who I am missing is letting me know, “I’m here Clare, and it’s okay.”

Clare Irwin

I have included below the words to both these beautiful songs which are intricately layered:

 

Come
And talk of all the things we did today
Here
And laugh about our funny little ways
While we have a few minutes to breathe
Then I know that it’s time you must leave
But, darling, be home soon
I couldn’t bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled
My darling, be home soon
It’s not just these few hours, but I’ve been waiting since I toddled
For the great relief of having you to talk to
And now
A quarter of my life is almost past
I think I’ve come to see myself at last
And I see that the time spent confused
Was the time that I spent without you
And I feel myself in bloom
So, darling, be home soon
I couldn’t bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled
My darling, be home soon
It’s not just these few hours, but I’ve been waiting since I toddled
For the great relief of having you to talk to
So, darling
My darling, be home soon
I couldn’t bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled
My darling, be home soon
It’s not just these few hours, but I’ve been waiting since I toddled
For the great relief of having you to talk to
Go
And beat your crazy head against the sky
Try
And see beyond the houses and your eyes
It’s okay to shoot the moon
Darling be home soon
I couldn’t bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled
My darling, be home soon
It’s not just these few hours, but I’ve been waiting since I toddled
For the great relief of having you to talk to
John Sebastian
 
Thank you for the days
Those endless days, those sacred days you gave me
I’m thinking of the days
I won’t forget a single day, believe me
I bless the light
I bless the light that lights on you believe me
And though you’re gone
You’re with me every single day, believe me
Days I’ll remember all my life
Days when you can’t see wrong from right
You took my life
But then I knew that very soon you’d leave me
But it’s all right
Now I’m not frightened of this world, believe me
I wish today could be tomorrow
The night is dark
It just brings sorrow, let it wait
Thank you for the days
Those endless days, those sacred days you gave me
I’m thinking of the days
I won’t forget a single day, believe me
Days I’ll remember all my life
Days when you can’t see wrong from right
You took my life
But then I knew that very soon you’d leave me
But it’s all right
Now I’m not frightened of this world, believe me
Days
Thank you for the days
Those endless days, those sacred days you gave me
I’m thinking of the days
I won’t forget a single day, believe me
I bless the light
I bless the light that shines on you believe me
And though you’re gone
You’re with me every single day, believe me
Days
Raymond Douglas Davies

Earth Day

This is a quick one. Sunday was Earth Day – I forgot until I went online. I awoke to a beautiful day, sunshine and birdsong pouring in. I had a window of time, before other obligations, to get out, walk, hike, be in nature – to be outdoors after a long winter. Spring emerges slowly in our little slice of heaven. But, as it bursts forth it is a lovely site. Mirabile Dictu as Virgil wrote. When I start to see things bloom I recall the line from A Matter of Life and Death, “Ahh! We are starved for Technicolor up there!” Or in this case down here. Enjoy a few snaps from Sunday from the charming seaside coastal town I have written about often, here at Phantom Noise In Ordinary Time.

Coming soon more on the goings on in this beautiful yet curious village…

Enjoy & may every day be Earth Day.

Clare Irwin

 

Is There Anybody Out There?

I caught a few minutes of Mark Zuckerberg’s testimony on Capitol Hill. I found curious that this titan of commerce is somewhat unimpressive to me. Maybe it’s his boyish face and voice, and the veiled petulant stance he took with his questioners. I never used Facebook. I tried for about two minutes – it was too busy and noisy. Not to say that Twitter isn’t a frenetic sphere, but I was able to “get” it.

What amuses me, and worries me, is the data collected on everyone who uses Facebook, and how that information is used. Certainly, it is of great concern, but I am vexed because I found myself tangled in a competitive streak. I wondered: with all this watching, why aren’t they (who are they?) looking at my blog?! According to my analytics, I’m lucky to have a dozen people a day visiting. I know I should return to the “I-don’t-care-that’s-not-why-I-am-writing-it” attitude with which I began. That would be the wiser course of action.

I was helping a 20-year-old with a college transfer essay which prompted her to write about her academic and career goals. She was stumped – blocked. So typically, I related it to my experience and said, “Well, when I was 20 my goal was world domination.” I was half-joking and she laughed. Then she looked at me and said, “I can see that.” She just met me! I decided to take it as a compliment, but her comment made me think: what the hell kind of vibe do I give off? To consider that people see you differently than you see yourself was a valuable reality check. Duh!

As I have mentioned, I attended a rigorous rarefied prep school*, which I, for the most part, loved. An acquaintance once said to me that the only thing my school was good for was “breeding competitive little bitches.” He was just jealous that he’d never look as cute in the uniform.

I ran into this young lady the next day and thanked her for the insight. She was great and said, “You could definitely beat those old white guys’ asses.” How’s that for a morale boost?

Data collection, big brother, old white guys, whatever…come on people! Read this competitive little bitch’s blog! 

 

 

 

 

 

Clare Irwin

 

*See January 2018 post: “Be True To Your School.”

Swami Mommy…or Spit It Out!

The holiday has nearly passed for two major world religions, and I tried, I really did try, to do my best in keeping my Lenten/Easter intention. I failed miserably. In fact, opposite to what I think is my fairly steady nature, I’ve been swinging from mindfulness and positivism to being a misery. All this occurs in my brain – which is a dangerous place at the best of times. I first named this post Swami Mommy because I was thinking of a childhood friend’s mother on whom I bestowed this moniker. She talks a good talk, but the walk…not there. My friend and I laugh about this because her mother is so unaware of the polarity in her personality. She’s skillful at preaching the glories of the universe – it’s a bit of  mishmash of Christianity, New Age, and now the Kabbalah. Simultaneously, she’s more than happy to let you know how inadequately short of the mark your own spirituality falls.

The amusing part is she then turns on a dime – doesn’t miss a breath –  and says something so petty and cruel that most people, the rest of us of the great unwashed, wouldn’t think – much less say. My favorite is her revisionist histories where she is the heroine in all the outcomes. When she’s not talking about the universe functioning as a cosmic ATM machine for her, she’s relating a story about someone she knows – and the criteria never deviates: how they look and how much money they make is the measurement, and all you learn. I and my friend started referring to her as Swami Mommy and not in a kind way. She had said, in complete seriousness, “You know, I’m so evolved that I’m not coming back.” I started laughing but stopped when I realized that she wasn’t kidding. She is such a superior being that she need not return. Where do such beings go, I wonder?

While I’m mentally critiquing this individual I realize how ridiculous I am in my attempt to achieve serenity. I have to say things are pretty good, but as one strives to go further, there are trips and falls along the way. That is happening now. I’m listening to Thich Nhat Hanh while I’m in the car. He is an incredible and inspiring individual, and I am enjoying his meditations. But as I’m breathing in and breathing out when the gong gongs (?), I manage to insert some evil thought in between. Pissed at the driver in front of me, waiting in line while somebody pays by check – what the hell? I remember to breathe, but I haven’t been able to detach from my annoyance.

The culmination of my awful behavior happened this past Saturday. I was meeting someone for coffee and pulled into a parking spot. I was rummaging through the back of the car to find a magazine I wanted to give my friend, and I hear a horn honk behind me. I turn around and there is the front of a vehicle about six inches from my legs. The driver sticks his head out the window and asks me to stop what I’m doing and pull up so he can park better. He couldn’t wait and there were a bunch of available spots – he had to have that one. I sighed, got back in the car, and pulled up. I returned to my rummaging and he gets out of the car. I should be more clear: it‘s a van, a panel van, like the ones you see in movies about serial killers or child molesters, and old – like from Zodiac killer movies. The guy himself: creepy, dirty, bad skin, teeth going in all directions, weird voice, and he starts to say something to me. I’m thinking, this should be good because my guess is he’s a last word freak – even though I haven’t said anything. Sure enough he starts to say what sounds like an apology, but I’m not really listening to him. However, I do catch the last sentence: “It’s not my fault!” I loved that! He can’t sort himself out teeth-wise, you know, brushing them? Or comb his hair. These basic skills are beyond him, but he has learned the non-accountability lesson which is depressingly prevalent. That he gets!

He walks away to spread more sunshine and I’m fuming. I don’t know why; this usually wouldn’t send me over the edge, but I’m getting more and more peeved. I think I should kick his van, and then something truly alarming happened. I spit on the hood of the van! I was appalled at myself. I have never ever done this in my life, but before I gained control of myself – I had. My mother, if she wasn’t already dead – that would have killed her. Right there on the spot. My father, he would not have approved, but he would have laughed because he liked a little moxie. I was horrified because even though I know it was inexcusable, indefensible, childish – I felt better.

I spent the rest of the day flagellating myself. Finally that evening I had had enough of the self-recrimination and called a friend to tell on me. She laughed and thought the story was great (I can hear my mother’s voice, “Don’t encourage her!”). I felt lighter after my confession and my good friend said, “The car probably needed to be washed anyway!”

Now, I have another very dear friend, one who reads this blog regularly who is an amazing person. She’s someone I aspire to be like, and one of a handful of people whose opinion and regard for me I hold in high esteem. So I’m apologizing in advance, and promise as I go through this metamorphosis that I will return to my rosy gaze and write a post that won’t require contrition.

Clare Irwin

 

The Girl Got Reasons

March has come in as a lion; I’m waiting for the lamb part. Like Demeter, I am anticipating Persephone’s return. Oh no, not another Greek myth! No worries.

I was chatting with a dear friend this morning, and mentioned it might be a day for writing. I asked if she had any requests: “something funny with a tinge of sarcasm!” I hope I can oblige her.

I put this post title in my drafts folder a while ago. I was pissed because I was listing in my head all the women/girls I know who have a lot of “rules.” Rules that must be accommodated for the privilege of their friendship. Some I totally get, but others…I can’t keep them straight. I have a male friend who broke up with a fiancee of four years and was looking – in vain – for insight from me. All I could do was empathize and say, “Look, I’m one of them and I don’t understand them!”

The rules vary a bit. They are mostly about control or not disturbing the status quo. The latter is tempting. The control part, that’s just banal, but shaking up the status quo – well there’s shock value to that. One biggie, and I know I’ll be in trouble for this, is the “c” word. Merely mentioning this issue draws reactions close to apoplexy or swooning. It doesn’t really bother me. As women we should be allowed to use it if we want – we know our own don’t we? The fact that men say it, well I don’t necessarily condone it, but what pink bubble of a cocoon do you have to live in to think that the “c” word isn’t used – by men?

I was fortunate to grow up in a family where censorship was not tolerated. No one used the “c” word that I can remember, but we lived in the real world, so we were exposed to all sorts of things and somehow survived. My mother was much more offended by “shut up” that an expletive. That was her thing. I hate shut up too. Much more than go “f” yourself. Or, “I don’t want to talk about it” – now there has to be context here. To be sure, there are topics that are too touchy, but I remember one instance when I was sincerely concerned about a friend’s welfare and that’s what she said. Okay. I think it was the tone which disappointed me, ungrateful, unpolished, uncouth. Is that enough un’s? It was like a slap. How about, “Thank you for your concern, Clare, but I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it.” Done! No problem!

Here’s this girl’s reasons: slamming of doors, not pushing in your chair, unintentional rudeness, not thinking for yourself, not having the courage of your convictions, not being a rufusenik, and the greatest transgression: not having a sense of humor. If you can’t laugh at life, at yourself – well you have my sympathy.

The world has a plethora of rules, maybe we should dial it back a little, not add more rules on top of rules, and be strong enough to be able to handle what’s coming at us. Sure have reasons, but let’s not be Draconian about it shall we?

Back to Demeter and Persephone. I know I can’t help myself. However, they are a fine example of girls with reasons: Demeter mourns the absence of her daughter Persephone so acutely she creates winter. Shouldn’t she be glad that her daughter has shown initiative, moved out of the house, and maybe even gotten her driver’s license? As far as Persephone goes, well she marries Hades, the god of the underworld. Not much new there. Who among us hasn’t fallen for the bad boy? She’s got a nifty arrangement, she spends six months with Hades (their version of Jupiter, Florida?), and returns to her mother and earth for the other six months. Having separate interests is healthy for a marriage. How clever is that?

Yes, they all got reasons.

 

 

 

 

 

    Clare Irwin

 

Beauty’s Baker’s Dozen – II

Beauty on a Budget 

Trader Joe’s Baker’s Dozen Best Buys for Beauty:*

Trader Joe’s is a California-based company of alternative/organic/health supermarket stores that can be found around the United States. We first heard about Joe’s some years ago, when a neighbor introduced us to a delicious breakfast cereal that they sell. Then a couple of years later a good friend radically turned us on to the really fun stuff – Trader Joe’s cosmetics/beauty/bath aisle! Since the editorial staff frequents the store regularly, we decided not to keep our favorite things to ourselves any longer. So, we’ve compiled our Baker’s Dozen Favorite Trader Joe’s beauty items for your pleasure.

 

Avalon Organic Botanicals – Therapeutic Lavender products:

It’s a lavender love-in!!! For the price you can’t do better. Avalon offers excellent quality, and uses pure lavender essence extracted from flowers grown in northern California. This is a company that puts out a variety of outstanding products at reasonable prices. The Lavender Therapeutics line contains organic lavender; calendula, which is an orange/yellow flower, related to the marigold family, that is great for skin and hair – ancient people, and modern ones too, steep the flowers for bathing and skin care; chamomile which has soothing and healing properties, and the lavender line of products are also enriched with lots of vitamins for extra goodness.

1The Therapeutic Lavender Bath and Shower Gel is a must. Rich lather, great scent and it leaves no residue or film. Great for all skin types including very sensitive skin.

2The Therapeutic Lavender Nourishing Shampoo is perfect for all hair types. Leaves fine, limp hair with a lot of body – you’ll feel like a bohemian millennial Breck girl.

3. The Therapeutic Lavender conditioner is excellent, rich and creamy. We did find that it works best for non-color treated, less dry hair – for color treated hair our staff found that an additional intensive conditioner was needed. But for all you “normies” out there this conditioner is perfect.

4. To round off the lavender line, we also love the dark green, apple shaped pump bottle of Lavender Glycerin liquid soap for washing hands. In our household (and other staff members) there is one pump bottle by every sink.

 

Tea Tree Oil Products – Desert Essence and Trader Joe’s:

Say tea tree oil three times fast!  We have all heard about and know the origins of this superb and amazing all purpose natural antiseptic oil from Australia. Here are three products that Joe’s sells that are A-1.

5. Desert Essence Thoroughly Clean Face Wash with Organic Tea Tree Oil and Awapuhi (Hawaiian white ginger). This face wash is incredible; it has a clean healthy scent that’s just divine. It’s perfect for all skin types and we find it really works well for problem skin or skin that has occasional breakouts. Read the back label, this product contains an interesting mix of ingredients. We find that in the winter it’s an excellent liquid hand soap for all the germy hand exchanges one is forced to have, and it’s great for avoiding colds – the minute we walk into the house after being out the first thing we’ve all gotten into the habit of doing is washing our hands with this liquid soap.

6. The Tea Tree Oil Facial Cleansing Pads are great, especially in the summer heat and grime. We find in the winter they can be a little drying, but in the hot, humid, warm weather they’re fantastic to swipe over your face and neck after you wash – you’d be surprised to see what is still left over on your poor pores. Again its fresh clean medicinal qualities are all skin friendly and healing.

7.The pure and original product: 100% Australian Tea Tree Oil – a truly great discovery. The pure oil is so versatile; use it for pimples, bites, add it to your bath. As a general antiseptic like peroxide and rubbing alcohol, you should have a bottle of tea tree oil in your medicine cabinet.

8. Desert Essence Blemish Touch Stick. This is the all time finds of finds for those of us who get pimples. The magic roller ball is so effective you can practically delete your dermatologist’s number from your phone. It has saved more than one of us on the staff a trip to the doctor.

9. Trader Joe’s own Tea Tree Oil bar soap. The Tea Tree Pure vegetable soap comes in a pack of two and lasts a good long time. It has a mild, fresh, clean fragrance that won’t conflict with any perfume you may apply. This soap is perfect for all skin types.

Trader Joe’s Savons (that’s soap) and other bath products: 

Trader Joe’s makes several milled in France soaps called “J’adore ce savon.” There’s orange blossom, lemon verbena, etc.

10. Our favorite, quelle surprise, is the Lavender South of France bar soap. For the price it goes a long way, and it rivals the fine creamy quality of much higher priced boutique soaps from places like L’Occitane – not that we don’t just love their products, but a lot of us are on beauty budgets. This scrumptious bar of pale blue soap contains Shea butter, so it’s kind to dry skin. Always have it stocked along with Trader Joe’s Tea Tree Oil bar soap so you can alternate them.

11. Celtic Lavender Scrub exfoliator – We love this product. It’s got an ancient Druid princess bath ceremony quality to it. Packed with Celtic Sea Salt, lavender oil and marine goodies from northern waters, this scrub is a great pick-me-up, especially in the dry winter weather. It leaves a nice light, delicate, sheath of lavender moisture on your body. This excellent scrub comes in big tub that will last you a long time. Several of us on the staff also use the Celtic Scrub in our bath. When we don’t have time to do a long pure salt bath, we take a nice palm size scoop of the scrub with a little bit of the Lavender Bath and Shower Gel, run the bathwater, and voila a rejuvenating experience!

12. Grapefruit Chamomile Shower Gel Scrub is from Trader Joe’s Zen product line. The grapefruit smells so good you may want to eat it, but don’t. It’s a gel AND an excellent exfoliator – it seems summery in fragrance and feeling, but that’s just our imagination, use it all year round. It’s a perfect exfoliator to use before applying a self tanning cream or spray. The scrub is lovely and gentle, not sandpapery like some exfoliating products, and it does the trick. Again, a large amount (and you don’t need much each time you use it) at a good price is a deal.

13. Trader Joe’s Lavender Dryer Bags are, obviously, not directly beauty related, but a great household product. Let’s say they make you feel beautiful, so there’s the beauty connection! They’re kind of like dryer sheets but infinitely better (we don’t like the artificial smell and chemical/oily feel of supermarket dryer sheets). Trader Joe’s bags come in a box of 4. These bags are porous paper pouches filled with lavender buds and flowers. You just stick one in your dryer with your wet laundry, set your dryer cycle as you always do, and your dry clothes come out subtly and gently smelling of lavender. It’s so soothing and calming and good for your well-being. The bags are especially perfect for drying your sheets and towels – the scent of lavender will refresh your bath towels, and the scent of lavender on your bedding will lull you to a restful sleep at night. Now here’s a great tip right on the box: once the scent seems used up and it’s time to replace your dryer bag (the box says they’re good for about 5-10 dryer cycles – depending on your machine, size of laundry loads, etc.), take the old bag, open it up and scatter the buds and flowers on your carpet and vacuum the lot up. The lavender will scent your carpet and your room, and the vacuum cleaner won’t have that mysterious wet old doggy smell (even if you don’t have a dog). Everything is lavender-fresh smelling. It’s de-lovely.

Afterword:

All our baker’s dozen products are cruelty free: no animal by-products are used, nor were any sweet bunnies or other wonderful creatures that we share the world with harmed in making these products. So that’s a good thing!

These are our current Trader Joe’s recommendations – we’ll continue to scour the shelves of this fun store for future great products at great value. Check out Trader Joe’s cosmetics shelves yourself and see what else catches your eye. Depending on where you are in the States (see Trader Joe’s website for the store nearest you), that department can be more or less extensive. We have three stores nearby, and they do vary in what they carry. A friend in the San Francisco Bay area has a significantly larger Joe’s than the three here, but you’ll find what you need in any one of them. It’s a cool company and concept; the store is clean and organized, the staff is young, friendly and knowledgeable, and you can’t beat the prices. Don’t miss their ultra dark Swiss chocolate bars that are top notch – who needs Godiva?  These bars are fantastic and Joe’s cleverly and irresistibly places them right near the checkout counter. You have to get at least one bar. Chocolate is a mood enhancer, so there’s some natural Prozac for you.

Enjoy shopping for all sorts of great herbal, natural, and aroma-therapeutic soul enhancing beauty products. Bring a friend along for the romp. Remember it’s good karma to help other people enhance their life journey, and beauty and bathing are all part of it!

Back on planet Earth:

Okay that’s the end of it. I’m exhausted from reading this over-energized piece of writing. I hope that it was useful. I learned something. It took me longer to photo edit this piece than it does to write a fresh post!

*Note: since writing this article, the names of some of the products may have changed slightly, as well whether TJ’s still carries them. I checked and Whole Foods carries some, and all the companies mentioned have websites where you can peruse and purchase.

Clare Irwin

Baker’s Dozen – I

I’ve been mulling over whether to write this post or not, consulted friends, and as I start this now I still don’t know. Last week, I was in Trader Joe’s and I remembered that I once wrote an article about TJ’s beauty aisle for a now defunct fashion/beauty website: “Trader Joe’s Baker’s Dozen Best Buys for Beauty.” The site went out of business before I submitted the final draft. I dug around and found the article – it’s a bit long and heavy on the lavender and tea tree oil – but informational.

What stumped me most was the alarming note of not recognizing myself in the writing. I sound positively giddy. To be sure, I was writing it for a specific purpose/audience, and it was a number of years ago – at least five. But that wasn’t it, I’ve found writings and “scribbles” from when I was a kid and I see myself. All I could think was, “Who is this woman?” “And, what extraordinary cocktail of drugs is she taking?” The answer is none, so I have no excuses. I’m attempting to recall what was going on at that time, and it’s vague because it wasn’t particularly interesting. I was friends with a girl who normally I wouldn’t be friendly with – we had mutual acquaintances. Anyway, she was…I sound like her in this which really scares me. I can’t remember now, but I may have deliberately tried to channel her “voice” since the audience for this piece would have been girls/women like her. Nice, safe, conforming, aiming to please, nonthreatening…blech. Sadly, or not, I don’t fit this role as much as I may try. I lean more in the direction of say her (right), or this (below):

Now, I am less drawn to the make-up and creams as I was a couple of years ago. Obviously, there are other products at TJ’s that actually may contribute to my health like juices, nuts, fruit, and of course candy (reward motivation system?). The 99 cent greeting cards are excellent too. So, I’ll frequent TJ’s until the farmer’s markets gear up again.

Now I have to figure out how to add the article without making this an endless word salad. Help!

Tripped Up & To Be Continued –

                                         Clare Irwin

Okay, it’s done. See the above post “Beauty’s Baker’s Dozen II” for the article where I dost not know my self.

Family Values

I was relating to a friend of mine a visit to an acquaintance’s house. My friend has a wry wit and a high sense of irony and amusement. My little social expedition was inconsequential except for the inventory of decor that I took in while others were engaged in polite small talk. The house, once called ranch-style, had been to the best of its ability, turned into the ubiquitous, generic, expensive, uber-suburb home that is prevalent in my neck of the woods. The property was indisputably the best asset – beautiful, untouched and adjacent to a horse farm – how could you go wrong? If it were up to me, and of course it isn’t, I would declare this a tear-down, and build something in its place that folds gently into the landscape, has at least a modicum of originality and doesn’t have a size complex. Or, let ranch be ranch.

The interior was expensively appointed but something was off. The window treatments, a term I dislike, were baroque. The furniture and do-dads were – I need Oscar Wilde for this; critiquing interior design is not my area – too coordinated as well as nonsensical. I hold to the axiom that it’s all in the mix, but that’s not what was happening here. While I was sitting at the silver-brushed wood dining table(!), I remembered a line from a movie I had just watched: Addams Family Values: “These are beautiful things! They’re from catalogs!”

This line is delivered by Debbie, played to perfection by the amazing Joan Cusack. Debbie is the grasping, kitschy, sugary, black-widow murderess who marries Uncle Fester. My friend had not seen the movie, so the conversation moved from the house of too many curtains, to telling him about the movie: mostly about the character of Debbie. I suggested that we’ve all known a Debbie, and he quizzically gave this some thought. He said that he had worked with a women who would wear at least three designer logos in evidence on her person at all times. “And, the funny thing is,” said my friend, “I’m pretty sure her name was Debbie.”

In the movie, Debbie and the other characters have enviable lines. The writing is razor-sharp. The overarching sensibility from director Barry Sonnenfeld, who has a cameo as one of the parents at Camp Chippewa’s Thanksgiving recital, is in evidence here as it is in the Men in Black franchise, Get Shorty, RV, et al. Sonnenfeld is particularly unforgiving towards suburbia. There’s a scene where Raul Julia, as Gomez Addams, delivers a horrified reaction to just that.

In the end, Debbie has her comeuppance, but not before she has a great monologue on the origins of her psychotic self. Ballerina Barbie NOT Malibu Barbie!

There was no Debbie at the house of curtains, instead our rail thin nervous hostess was wearing a Harvard University sweatshirt and informing us on the challenges of raising a German Shepard puppy. Her four children didn’t factor into the conversation. That confused me further, why does a grown woman wear a school sweatshirt? And, you need to go to Harvard for this?

I know I’m being unkind. It’s all in fun, isn’t it? I would imagine that my invitations will dwindle and my social calendar diminish – who would want me over silently collecting material at their expense? Ironically, I was supposed to go to a Buddhist prayer/chant/discussion group this morning, and instead I have penned this. For real.

So I will close, repent, and petition for forgiveness. And, I will try to be nice.

Clare Irwin

Pandora

You’re probably thinking I’m going to lay another Greek myth on you. Not exactly. Well maybe…I’m not sure where this is going. The Pandora of which I speak is the music streaming company. I forgot it was installed on a bedroom TV. I had it for my father who lived with us in the last years of his life. So, the stations are his, and as I have been listening to them these last weeks, I think of my dad and what an amazing person he was. Since it’s his selection of music, I feel him with me even more – music is one powerful force. I love how nothing is by accident, and by mere happenstance (not really), I just read an article on how music affects the brain. Even if you’ve heard a song hundreds of times, the anticipation, the frisson, is as strong as ever, and dopamine and other happy chemicals are emitted by the brain. Then, I was listening to a show on YouTube about essentially the same thing – that music is good for you, and if you want to listen to your favorite songs for the 1,000th time: go for it!

Perhaps I did open Pandora’s box –  actually in the versions of the myth it’s a jar. Nevertheless, what was released for me were not plagues and evils, but beloved memories. I was impressed by the variety of music my father enjoyed: classical – Cecelia Bartoli, Shostakovich, Brahms, Schubert, Mahler, – Edith Piaf, Billie Holiday (he adored her), Louis Armstrong (I think “What a Wonderful World” was my dad’s personal anthem), Bob Marley, Wilson Pickett, Milton Nascimento, Big Band orchestras, Jo Stafford, The Beach Boys, the Beatles, Charlie Parker, and here’s a few I found amusing: The Go-Go’s, R.E.M., ABBA and Cyndi Lauper. Where the hell did he come up with those? There’s many more – I’ll stop grocery listing – but they are indeed intriguing and genuinely eclectic.

Dad’s Pandora stations reaffirm for me his marvelous ease and joy of life, his open-mindedness, his embracing of all, his massive capacity to love, to forgive, and to endure. I’m not canonizing him, he was a beautiful wonderful flawed human being like the rest of us, but I must say that he did have an extra dazzle and sparkle that was a joy. He was a true gentleman, to the marrow, and women seemed to intuit this because they all loved him – often to my mother’s dismay. His humor and wit were superlative, and even when life threw him cataclysmic losses – they had no dominion over him. He remained the glorious generous person he always was.

Pandora in the ancient Greek means all-giving, I had forgotten that. How appropriate. It sums my father up – it is also what music does. At the end of Pandora’s story, the only thing left in the jar is Hope. Among the scholars and philosophers, Hope is another evil, a mixed bag at best. Much debate abounds – even drilling down to the meaning of the ancient Greek word, which is ambivalent at best.

Well shoot, it’s a sunny day, I’m in a good mood, and I need to wrap this up, so I’m going to go with the Pollyanna view which is hope is good thing. Hmm…isn’t that from The Shawshank Redemption?

So…Rock Out?

Clare Irwin