WrinkleQuest

You're Beautiful!

2012-01-26T04:22:00.000-08:00

In case you don't see it, this creative thinker does!
I can't remember where I was shopping when I glanced in the mirror and saw her work.
It made me happy. See for yourself.

You're Beautiful!

Check out Jessica Echevarria at Abstract Celebrity.

Another Awesome Beauty Product!

2012-01-11T12:49:00.000-08:00

Gotta have this!!!!

Fotoshop by Adobe'

Thanks to Jesse Rosten, the seriously talented person that created this video :-)

So that is how it is done!

2012-01-04T13:14:00.000-08:00

I am always in the pursuit of the newest photography techniques and gadgets.

I could sure use one of these!

No Makeup, NO TRUST?

2011-10-05T03:37:00.000-07:00

I always felt that people treated me differently when I adorned makeup. I was never a glamour queen. I stuck with the basics, mascara and blush. Still I could sense I was treated differently.

Rebel that I am, this annoyed me! I wanted people to like me for who I was, not what I looked like. So, I tended to wear little or no make-up. A tool of trust. A filter of sorts to weed out the insincere and bring closer those who really cared for me.

Funny how things work out. According this this study, I was getting quite the opposite result. People were actually weeding me out!!!

The story...

No Makeup, No Trust? What Your Makeup Really Says to Others

The study...

First-Ever Study Reveals Cosmetics Alter Instinctual Perception

500 Years of Women in Art

2011-10-02T09:49:00.000-07:00

Here's a video composite of 500 years of women in art. The video is beautifully done. I find it interesting, however, that there wasn't a wrinkle to be found!

Enjoy!

500 Years of Women in Art

Frozen Faces

2011-09-06T06:26:00.000-07:00

Just a little freaked out over all of the frozen faces on the tube...

My grandmother was a down to earth woman. She traded places with her brother when it came to chores. She would head out to plow the field with her father while her brother took her place cleaning in the house.

She taught me how to oil the furnace, mow the lawn, trim hedges and make cinnamon buns. I often wonder who ended up with her trusty oil can. I hope they appreciate how important it was to her. It kept the wheels turning. It soothed the aging parts of the machines that endlessly served her. She knew the value of her appliances having grown up in the age of hauling water and burning wood for heat and cooking. So, she always did her due diligence maintaining her luxuries.....her furnace....her lawnmower....her old wooden wagon with metal wheels. Her tools were simple, a hammer, a screwdriver, a hatchet, a wrench and her oil can.

Similarly her dressing table held a jar of Noxema, a powder puff, a bar of soap, a rouge, a lipstick and a perfume. She had some gray hair, many wrinkles and some stray facial hairs. Her face expressed her mood. It lifted and broadened when she laughed and it contracted and drooped when she was sad. You knew where you stood with my grandmother. You could read her face. You could see the joy when she looked at you. You knew without being told how much she loved you.

She was perfect as far as I can remember. And when I look in the mirror and see that same stray hair on my face, I smile. I see my grandmother. I feel the love.

Today I find myself confused as I watch the older women on the tube talk about tragedy and tell jokes all the while their faces remaining expressionless. I hear their voices, but I just don't "feel" their message!!!

And, I wonder what effect this is having on our young girls???

We all get old. Nothing lasts forever.

2011-08-09T17:09:00.000-07:00

Check out this talented photographer, Lee Jeffries. His black & white images are gorgeous and thought provoking. Thanks to Diane Richter, for bringing it to my attention :-)

We all get old. Nothing lasts forever.

How to Talk to Little Girls?

2011-06-25T07:37:00.000-07:00

I am not sure I wholeheartedly agree with this article. However, it has great merit and truth.

As a child I can't remember being told I was pretty, etc. I am not saying it didn't happen. I remember more of my brothers telling me I was too tall, or my mom saying, "Pull your hair back. It makes your nose look long." or " Your ears are sticking out." It made me shrink away instead of standing tall.

The world around us has predetermined our fate as women judged on beauty. It is in nature all around us. The birds & the bees so to speak practice the same tactics. Humans are really no different except in awareness and in our empowerment to change.

So I won't hold back my compliments to little girls. I will tell them they are beautiful. I will tell them they are SMART, CLEVER and all around AMAZING!!! I will enjoy their faces as they delight in their beauty inside and out!

I do agree 100% with the author, Lisa Bloom, that we must encourage little girls to be more than their appearance. We do need to invest more in their talents instead or their tutus! I just don't feel it is necessary to undermine their beauty in the process.

How to talk to little girls....

Barbie?

2011-06-02T19:26:00.000-07:00

BFF's Breast Friends Forever

2011-06-01T18:10:00.000-07:00

Interesting post from Cafe Gratitude....

BFF's Breast Friends Forever

“Please forgive me. I love you. You are healthy, whole, complete, filled with love and light. You are beautiful just as you are. ”

Say Cheese!

2010-06-03T03:31:00.000-07:00

Does your appearance hold you back? .......Too fat, too skinny, too wrinkled???

Has it stopped you from getting up to dance??? Saying hello to an old friend??? Learning something new and exciting???

Could it be the reason that you don't want to be photographed? Deb Schwedhelm thinks perhaps it is. Don't rob your family of memories. Get your tissues and check out her blog on the subject......And the next time you get in front of the camera say CHEESE :-)

Deb Schwedhelm Photoblog

All The Wrinkled Ladies

2010-05-29T19:37:00.000-07:00

Check out this ditty by Anita Renfroe posted to the Women of Faith Blog. It's a humorous song about making peace with your body!

All The Wrinkled Ladies

Thanks Sandy for bringing this song to my attention :-)

Tama J. Kieves Quote

2010-04-20T03:32:00.000-07:00

"Every act of love for yourself-makes a difference."
Tama J. Kieves

Tom Tveitan Foto

2010-04-12T03:16:00.000-07:00

Tom Tveitan Foto

Check out his blog for some interesting beach shots....When I look at these images, I feel nostalgic even though they are shot in a quite modern magazine style. Could it be the subjects ring true to life and take me back to the safety of my family? I like the sense of calm I feel. I'll take more please :-)

"This Is Who I Am"

2010-04-10T05:52:00.000-07:00

"Rosanne Olson's collection of photographs and short essays, "This Is Who I Am: Our Beauty in All Shapes and Sizes," is an exploration of how real women relate to their real bodies — in all their freckled, scarred, pudgy and wrinkled glory. It's sometimes funny, sometimes sensual and always heartbreakingly sincere." ....Haley Edwards

Read her entire book review here: "This Is Who I Am"

Looks to be another inspiring read :-)

Magazine Photos

2010-04-08T16:56:00.000-07:00

The next time you compare yourself to a beautiful magazine model, remember they had a little help. See for yourself.

PS: The talented Photoshop specialist must have more patience than God :-)

Watch the video: Magazine Photos

Furthermore, the French have written a bill to require disclaimers on retouched photos to prevent misrepresentation!!! Could reality be back in Vogue???

The complete article from the Benjamin Kanarek Blog.

Happy Valentine's Day !!!

2010-02-14T06:09:00.000-08:00

On this day of LOVE.....please remember to LOVE YOURSELF FIRST!

A special thanks to the three very beautiful women captured in these images, Katy Nugent, Yarrow Maurer and Lorna Doone.

Insecurity or Instinct?

2010-02-13T12:58:00.000-08:00

This old Carol Burnett skit is just plain funny!!!
Enjoy :)

"Wrong Number"

"Loose Change"

2009-09-26T04:13:00.000-07:00

I stumbled across this photographer this morning who has some interesting shots of nude women presented in a book entitled "Loose Change".

"These photographs confidently add what might be called a new wrinkle to the corpus of female nudes that parades through the history of photography."
—Essay by Vicki Goldberg

http://suzanneopton.com/women

True love doesn't see the wrinkles or the drippy nose -- it's the heart that really counts!

2009-08-28T16:58:00.001-07:00

OK..... I haven't blogged anything lately, and now I am cheating by relying on the talent of another! Don't be too hard on me. WrinkleQuest is always in my heart. My wish is to hear all of your stories whether I wrinkle you or not.

So, today I share with you the wisdom of Clara Hinton. She is a tribute to the strong and beautiful!

Thank you Clara:)

Originally uploaded by http://www.flickr.com/photos/sicilianitaliano/

As I watched the owners of animals at our county fair, I realized how much love was showered on each and every animal -- no matter how many flaws or how intense the competition. Every family treated his/her pet as the "Number 1 - Most Special Blue Ribbon Winner" because that's how love is.

Love never sees the flaws, but sees only the heart.

Let's be careful not to get hung up on outward appearances, but rather love someone for the pure beauty and kindness found in the heart! After all, isn't that where true beauty is really found?

My Latest Wrinkle

2009-03-06T15:00:00.000-08:00

When I was young I wondered.....

What if I had never married?
What if I had married someone else?
What if I remained free?

Now that I am older I wonder.....

What if he was gone?

The joy I feel when he smiles at me transcends all that is mortal. It feeds my soul. Honestly if he was gone, I don't think that the sun would ever shine so brightly. I am not certain that I could breathe.

So, when I received the call that his cystology test had shown signs of cancer......disbelief! After all, we had just gone through the yearly cystoscopy. Doc said that everything looked great....See ya next year.

When you have experienced cancer you put it in a little box.....a little box that need only be opened when necessary. For us after these twenty some years, it has become an annual event. We have become quite good at it over the years. The anguish invested in opening and closing the box has grown shorter with each year of benign results. But, this time the box was opened off schedule, without warning and couldn't be closed at our will.

We had to leave it open for the paperwork, the admit exam, the admit tests and the bladder mapping.....and then the wait for the results. Seven weeks of jabs and stabs at our hearts... Seven weeks of wondering will he see his grandchild grow... Seven weeks of wondering how this could change our lives.

I waited alone in the hospital filling my mind with positive thoughts, breathing, praying that all would end well. Then Doc came out. She said that we would have to wait for the results, but everything looked good. She hadn't been able to detect any cancerous tissue visually. The original test could have been skewed. Hooray! A week later the results returned benign!......So, back in the box it went.

I sealed that box as tightly as I could and placed it as far back on the shelf as I could reach. I say to myself, no worries........not to worry unless there is something to worry about.

But, somewhere deep down in the pit of my stomach I feel the haunting emptiness of the question.....What if???

Lunch Break

2009-03-03T12:41:00.000-08:00

I was feeling a little down today, for no good reason I might add. I pondered how to present my latest wrinkle, but I couldn't find the creative energy to compile a cohesive piece. Feeling scattered I wondered if it mattered. So I gobbled down my turkey chili and logged onto Blogger.

I went straight to Wendy's' Among Mad People and read the header "Monday List Love and holy crap someone gave me an award!" I cheered! I do that for Wendy because she is a wonderful writer that I love to turn to for some quality entertainment. She sure beats watching the markets crash and the politicians berate each other. When I tune into Wendy I feel good about the precious time I invested. The return is always profitable.

So I read on and was surprised to find that Wendy had tagged me with the Kreativ Blogger Award. Who'd a thunk it? Lunch never being long enough I headed back to my desk feeling a little better 'cause maybe it did matter...just a little :)

*Here are the award rules:
List 7 things that you love and then pass the award on to 7 bloggers you love!
Be sure to tag them and let them know they have won!
You can copy the picture of the award and put it on your sideboard
letting the whole world know.....
you are KREATIV!

Seven Things I Love

(It was hard to pick just 7!)

1) Coffee by the fire with Wil

2) Stories about the good old days preferably from the oldest person I can befriend

3) Cocktails at sunset on the bow of the boat

4) Watching and feeling the little peanut move inside my daughters' pregnant belly

5) Photography 24/7/365

6) Campfires and the friends that gather around them

7) Meals because the best conversations are when people are full and happy

Passing it on to Seven fabulous bloggers

(If you have already been tagged, too bad. I want people to know how wonderful you are anyway!)

1) Invest some time with Wendy at Among Mad People http://www.wendy93639.com/

You won't be sorry.

2) Invest some money in Robin Collins at Sneaking Out at Midnight http://fourcrows.wordpress.com/

Her art is beautiful and needs many homes.

3) Estizer Smith at http://estizer50.wordpress.com/

She is a good friend who is tracing her history back to 'Bloody Lowndes' County Alabama. She is currently showing her latest photo exhibit at the Banana Factory in Bethlehem, PA. She has also authored a book titled Welcome Home. Her photos and words will move you.

4) Roxi at Roxi's 365 http://roxis365.blogspot.com/ for her stick-to-it-ness. A photo a day for 1 year.

5) Sandy at Family Recipes http://familyrecipecollection.blogspot.com/ for her tempting recipes.

6) Katie at http://kkhoffmanillustration.blogspot.com/ for her beautiful illustrations.

So, I stop at 6. You should know that I don't always follow the rules. Although this entry also seems a bit off course for the quest, it's not. It is about women supporting women. We rule wrinkles and all!

Meet Roxi

2009-01-24T12:25:00.000-08:00

She took time out of her busy schedule, and she came to my door holding a bag of homemade cookies and chocolate. YUM! The shoot was off to a great start. I had met Roxi in a photo journal class. I gathered bits of her daily life through the photos she shared during the course. She provides Communion to shut ins, holds Apple Dumpling fundraisers, host Community Dinners, knocks out walls and runs marathons. She is a strong woman who knows her path. She was patient with me as I manipulated her and the lighting to get the most wrinkled look possible. Then she left me with a warm hug and I knew that she had gone out of her way to do this for me expecting nothing in return. Funny after she left and I processed my photos, I kept coming back to this one. Not the most dramatic of the shoot, but the one in which I saw the little girl and the gentle spirit that builds into a strong woman. Here is her story....

I've never been a girly girl. I had dolls, but without sisters they were not played with as often as I played with my brothers and their cars and trucks in the sand pile by the shed. I was a tomboy and I knew it. Growing up on a dairy farm 10 miles from town in northwestern Wisconsin I didn't have girlfriends close by, so my brothers and I rode bikes on the farm, played softball and football in the yard, and did our chores.

Most often chores were divided along traditional gender roles. After supper my brothers went to the barn with my father and grandfather to milk the cows while I stayed in the house with my mother to wash dishes. I learned how to cook, how to sew, how to clean, how to manage a household. I also learned you do what needs to be done even when they crossed traditional gender lines.

I learned to fold fitted sheets from my grandfather. My mother regularly mowed the lawn. My father taught me to throw a football. When I was five my father set me on the flat roof of a steel shed; my job was holding nuts while he tightened the bolts. At 16 Dad built a small addition to the house and I was given the task of gofer; go for tools, go for this, go for lemonade.

It was the 70's and the Woman's Movement challenged traditional gender roles. I was already living it, and so were most of the women I knew. It was not a conscience decision on their part. It was simply doing what needed to be done. For me that meant working my way through college, then went on to seminary. I became a pastor, then wife and stepmother. Along the way I accumulated degrees. Now I am wrinkled, and if genetics has a say, these wrinkles are just the beginning to a face furrowed with wrinkles.

I think I should name them. One is called Hazel, my most wrinkled grandmother, whose first born died after being hit by a car when he was 4. One is called Ruth, who delighted in children. One is called Esther, an aunt of gentle spirit. Another is called Gertrude, who homesteaded 169 acres. My wrinkles are named Jane and Cori and Cari and Barbo and Freelove and Susan and Anna and Elizabeth and Caroline and Sarah. My wrinkles are named for women who sailed from England and Ireland and Norway and Germany, women who traveled west from New England to Pennsylvania to Wisconsin. My wrinkles are named for the women whose own wrinkles I see on my face.....wrinkles that declare perseverance, determination and resilience.

How To Disarm A Woman

2009-01-03T14:59:00.000-08:00

This one is dedicated to all the men who think they know the answer to "Honey, do I look fat in these jeans?" and all the women who suffered through their replies.

Happy New Year! May your 2009 be full of happiness and joy :)

It was one of those swinging hormone days. I could see the fear in his eyes. He was close to the line of fire. He knew before I did, there was no right thing he could say. Resigned to his fate my husband looked at me pleadingly with that deer in the headlights glaze as I fired.............." I look old and fat. Don't I?"

Quickly I glanced at myself in the mirror and then returned my full attention to my opponent. I stared him down and waited for him to strike or run!

Suddenly to my surprise the look of fear dissipated. It was replaced with a twinkle in his eyes. His face lit. His lips curled. He grinned and replied, "You are beautiful, and I don't deserve you."

What could I say? I was instantly disarmed. Surrender was imminent. There was nothing left to do. Graciously I replied, "You are crazy, and that's why I love you."

Although the battle was lost, I couldn't help chuckling to myself as I walked away satisfied that I had won the war. Truth be told the battle of the bulge and wrinkles will inevitably be lost, but love conquers all.

You see, my wise husband understood that the underlying question I was really asking was "Do you and will you continue to love me despite the wrapper?" What a guy!

Birthday Cake

2008-12-15T02:51:00.000-08:00

Today I'm 53!................ Happy Birthday to ME :)

Food for Thought

2008-11-17T08:28:00.000-08:00

Flattery

When I was seventeen I was shopping with my young nephew in the nearby mall. The manager of the sporting goods store struck up a conversation with us which resulted in a job offer for me as a cashier. I was flattered. I gave notice at the expressway rest stop where I was currently cashiering and where, by the way, a fellow employee had just grabbed my derriere. I was moving up. I would receive a higher wage, be closer to home and work in a safer environment. Unfortunately a couple of weeks later as part of my training, I was chased around the back room while proof reading the Sunday sales flier by the same married middle aged manager that had hired me. Luckily I was able to stave him off with a sharp awl, a few harsh words and a very loud "I QUIT".

At age twenty I was married. My husband and I had opened a service station. Always enjoying art and being on a strict budget, I painted all of the signs for the business. I was particularly proud of a large billboard boasting the state inspection seal. An established businessman in the community also admired the sign. He asked if he could hire me to paint signs for his miniature golf farm. I was flattered, and I said that I would be happy to take the job. In less than an hour, hurling an armful of signs, I was running from his barn.

In my forties I was running my own corporate food service. One particularly powerful executive said that I really did a great job. He was impressed. I was flattered when he stopped by my office with a gift of candy he had bought on a recent trip abroad and quite surprised at how quickly this man I identified as fatherly could turn predator.

At each of these times I was angered at being treated in this manner. I dismissed those involved as dirty old men and moved on with life.

In reflection, I see how women can confuse the measure of their worth with the measure of their beauty because at those moments what I was really made to feel was worthless.

Meet Paula

2008-08-13T17:52:00.000-07:00

Long before my project began, I can remember Paula exclaiming, "I think wrinkles are great!" I giggled at her spunky outspoken wit. Little did I know that I would have the opportunity to test her resolve by examining her through my lens. I had hoped to get an image of her snarling at aging, but I only found a sense of peace. I saw no fear, no apprehension, no self consciousness. She is truly one with her wrinkles.

In talking to Eleanor before, during and after this shot, I remembered a pivotal wrinklequest moment. At the time I was a 20-something Masters student at the University of Texas, El Paso writing a thesis on women's liberation documentary films, full of vim and vigor and a little political movement energy. Our Bodies Ourselves had just come out and I was engaged with the notion that growing older was mostly about becoming wiser. The secretary in the Journalism Department, Jean, had the most exquisitely lined face I had ever seen, and was stunningly beautiful. Though I don't have a photo of Jean, her face is indelibly etched on my memory. I thought, when I am older "I want to look like her!" This image has replayed itself again and again as I have gotten older. Maybe it's similar to how young girls look at models in Vogue as their ideal body image model.

Wrinkles don't scare me. I see them as earned markers of maturation. Though I don't want to judge others, the concept of having this face un-wrinkled seems such a waste. I do notice the necks of women who have had the tucks, and the age is still evident there. For me it's the more the merrier. In my early 40's when traveling in the Southwest through Navajo and Hopi lands I ran across a lithograph (artist unknown) of an ancient shamanic woman
wrapped in an Indian blanket, wearing a beautiful clay pot on her head
with canyon lands in the background. This has been on my wall/office since then. She is magnificent.

Recently, when I was visiting family in Hawaii, I showed them this picture of Eleanor's of my wrinkly face. I was laughing about it and looking at the contours of the wrinkles as an almost geographical landscape. They weren't laughing and said, " I wouldn't want that done to me." But I am delighted to be a subject of Eleanor's.

And the shoot was such fun! There she is lying on her back, balancing one lamp between her legs, and another behind her, me hanging off an exercise bench "trying" to wrinkle my face. Ironically, my face is pretty much a rubber-face. I make faces and am totally unaware of what face I just made. Eleanor kept trying to capture a "face" she had seen before. I could not do it, much to her chagrin. I would make an awful photographer's model because I can't at-will recreate a "look". Clearly the mind/brain doesn't remember how it created the face. I hope that Eleanor's blog will help us all to feel the inner giggle in the process, that we can all let go of any expectations we might have had about "getting on" in years. There is no rule that says that wearing your battle scars cannot be a really fun and funny ride. I agreed to do this in my own personal pact to take myself LESS seriously. Cheers to the wrinkle brigade!

Paula Michal-Johnson Ph.D.
Moving Body Mind Spirit
Fountain Hill, PA

Meet My Mother

2008-06-24T17:16:00.000-07:00

I've always known that my Mother regretted not going to high school. After all, she loved school. She is smart. So smart that despite the twenty eight moves her family made, she was able to test out of sixth grade and skip to seventh. A story that she is proud of and has told me many times. She also told me that she never went to high school because she stayed at home to help my Grandmother.

My Mother was born to dire times, The Great Depression. A time of no frills, no indoor plumbing, oil lamps, sparse heat, hungry bellies, hand me downs and few jobs. Families had to be resourceful and work together to make ends meet. It didn't seem unusual that her place as the oldest was to help take care of her siblings, that she picked tomatoes to earn money to contribute to the house funds, and that she learned to make her own clothing from feed bags. These hardships were generic to the era, or so I thought until recently.

A few months before my Mothers' 88th birthday and out of the blue she shared her truth with me. You see my Mother and a neighbor girl did set out for high school in the fall of 1935. They boarded the train to Haddonfield, a well to do neighborhood where the high school resided. They arrived at the school to find a parade of well dressed students of less modest means. Sadly my Mother and her friend looked upon their own dresses made of feed bags and hand me down shoes with shame and couldn't bring themselves to enter the building where they would surely face the scorn of the other students. To avoid being discovered they cowered in the school yard all day and anxiously waited for the afternoon train home where they regretfully remained.

After hearing my Mothers' truth, I could finally understand why she hated my beloved, worn, artfully patched and embroidered jeans of the seventies, and why it was so important for her to study and pass the GED when she was in her early fifties. I am proud of my Mother, her life and her accomplishments. I just wish she had told me this story in the seventies instead of throwing out those jeans!

Meet Gwyn

2008-04-23T16:30:00.000-07:00

Gwyn is an artist, a photographer, and a beauty who really kinda sorta resembles Jamie Lee Curtis. And thankfully, not unlike Jamie Lee she has been willing to share her "naked" truth with us in her WrinkleQuest statement.

Enjoy!

I am turning 50 this year, and I have to admit it bothers me, scares me even. Unlike Estizer, I do see myself changing when I look in the mirror. The skin around my eyes is becoming thin and transparent. My eyebrows are going wildly astray, and I have to shave my mustache. Yes I have one. Then there are my Mother's jowls that seem to appear out of nowhere when I catch an unexpected glimpse of myself. That is just my face. I am blessed with a "nice" figure that I have had to do little to maintain. Still, in recent years I see my body soften, spread, and sag. For most of my life I attracted much attention from men, wanted or not. Now, I can walk through the world almost invisibly, in the looser garb I choose to attire my new body. But it is not these things that bother me so much. In fact I relish paying less, rather than more attention to cosmetics and clothing, to appearance.

It is more a sense that I don't know this older person I am becoming. Who am I, now that I am not sexy, supple, a fruit bearing womb? Now that I cannot coast through life on looks and charm? Who am I, and who can I be, if my identity is not wrapped up in my femaleness? I hear other women my age talking about a loss of identity when their children are grown. Empty nest syndrome some call it. Who knew I would experience much the same feelings without children? Is it so deeply ingrained in our culture that a woman's role is to be a Mother that I could be mourning the loss of children I don't have? Is it all hormonal, psychological, a bit of each?

There is no preparation for this phase of life. The first half is mapped out for us. Get an education, get a job, get married, get a home, have kids. Then what? After all that focus on the external, it is no wonder we come to the second half of life lost and confused, afraid to look inside and see who we really are, what we may have to offer, or more importantly what we need to fulfill us.

I gladly posed for WrinkleQuest, thinking it a brilliant project, but I have struggled for 2 weeks to write this short statement. I realize that I wanted to write something definitive; when in reality I have only questions. The answers to these questions I don't yet know, but I do know that I like what I see in Eleanor's portrayal of me. I see in that wrinkled enhancement of myself, a glimpse of my truth, and I love it. I am ready to go with her and find what it takes to fill that empty nest, or to find what treasures that may already be buried there. Bring it on!

Thank you Eleanor for being my friend, and part of my quest!

Much love,
Gwyn

Meet Estizer

2008-03-17T18:50:00.000-07:00

Within 15 minutes of meeting Estizer, I knew that she was suffering from the sudden loss of her mother. And, she knew that I can't imagine what I will ever do without mine.

So it is with Estizer...........

With that in mind, I share my attempt to wrinkle Estizer and her letter to me. Enjoy!

Eleanor,

I was looking in the mirror and it felt kind of surreal because I felt like I was looking at the same face that I looked at when I was 16. Well, I'm 45 next month, so, that's not possible. It made me wonder, am I changing and I'm just not capable of seeing it?? THAT, made me even more curious. Dammit, I want to know what I'm gonna look like. I want it slooowly. I don't want to wake up one day and...BAM...I'm old!!

So I came to you :) Eleanor...make me wrinkle!! And this was the best you could do :( I gotta tell ya, you really let me down. That's okay Eleanor, it's probably not your fault. We can blame it on my Mom.

It's my Mom's fault for two reasons...genetics, and attitude. I never pondered the state of my Mother's beauty, but I do know that she never, ever worried about it. That's where the "attitude" part comes in. My Mother thought she was beautiful until the day she died at age 87. And she was. NOW, what I find interesting is that I see pictures of her, in those last years and I SEE the changes. They now appear drastic to me. Why didn't I see them then? Hmmm, I think I couldn't because of love. What I saw, I saw with my heart.

So do I not see my own aging because I see myself with my "heart"? That is possible. We learn many things from our Mothers. Case and point: I EXPECT to be beautiful when I get old! I'm actually looking forward to it. I see beautiful women in public places with hair that is grey and faces that are worn, yet there is a radiance that comes from them, and I've thought...WOW, I'm gonna look like THAT when I'm old!!

So yes, one of the many things I learned from my Mother was, to love myself. It doesn't mean I'll be wrinkle free...it just means that I'll always be able to see the "beauty" that radiates from them first.

Estizer

To learn more about Estizer check out her journey at http://estizer50.wordpress.com/

Stand By Your Man

2008-03-11T16:16:00.000-07:00

I could almost hear Patsy Cline crooning Stand By Your Man, as I watched the morning news, Silva Spitzer, the latest devoted wife stood one step behind her husband, Eliot Spitzer. Her glance shifted from the scripted speech he was reading to his face. Maybe she was searching for a fragment of truth, or perhaps she was just shocked at his chutzpah. He stood pretending to be humble as he expressed his regrets.

One had to wonder if he was sincerely sorrowful for hurting his wife or for getting caught? C'mon! The Emperors Club! Estimates of as high as $80,000 spent on visits with VIP call girls!

How did Mrs. Spitzer muster the strength? We see it over and over as our elected officials are unlawfully unfaithful. Their wives standing bravely behind them. Have they all signed prenups that promise to never kill, maim or defame their men?

Call me weak, but at times like this I can really get behind Lorena Bobbit and that women who drove over her husband once or twice.

Whether one chooses to stand by or stomp on their man, one has to ask why it is expected of women to accept the public humiliation of being lied to and cheated on by their beloved husbands?

For today, I can only hope that the Emperor gets new shoes, prison issue!

Middle Aged Woman Smokes

2008-03-02T10:15:00.000-08:00

As I opened my email this morning and began deleting the barrage of urgent junk mail, one caught my eye. It read:

"I thought you might like this one. Funny but, true.

Click the link to view YouTube-Middle Aged Woman"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1TVOXdNkFo

Sitting around in my bath robe with nothing better to do, I clicked and viewed the silly video making light of the pitfalls of middle aged women. :) Heehee. Believing a chuckle is good for the soul I checked out the related links in search of another laugh. Befuddled I found "Hot Middle Aged Woman Smoker" which linked to "Yaiza The Hot Smoker", "Gorgeous Brunette Smoking Cigarette", 2 Mature Women Light Up Cigarettes", Hot Blond Woman Lights Up A Camel Filter", etc.. The list seemed endless.

Not to be left out of the craze, I offer my own still version of a "Hot Middle Aged Woman Smokes".

Smoke this........

Don't call the Vice Squad yet. It's a rolled up Earl Green tea bag held together with old fashioned flour paste.......Whole wheat of course! I am middle aged for goodness sake. Gotta have that fiber!

Woman Steals Youth!

2008-02-29T04:22:00.000-08:00

The headline just blew me away, " Botox Bandit walks out without paying" !

A woman walks into a Houston spa, gets her injections to the tune of $2600. She walks out on the premise of getting her Amex Card never to return. Wisely she schemed leaving behind fictitious phone numbers, etc. The wrinkle in her plan was providing her before and after photos as evidence!

View the story at:
http://abclocal.go.com/ktrk/story?section=news/local&id=5986306

What bothers me about the comments following the above ABC13.com story is that they only addressed the subject of crime and the ability to prosecute. Are we missing the desperation in the motive, 'Woman Steals Youth!' ?

Beginnings

2008-02-04T15:57:00.000-08:00

You are probably wondering what possessed me to embark on this quest.

At 42 I was healthy, in shape, running my own business and had no qualms grinding the pegs on my 1500cc Valkyrie.

At 52, well the doctor proposed that I take a diuretic last week. I am 40 pounds heavier, work at home in my yoga pants and won't even entertain the thought of getting on a motorcycle.

It doesn't matter that had I not suffered Grave's Disease and the subsequent radiation therapy I wouldn't be such a completely changed woman. That fact remains that I am changed and not for the better.

So I mourned myself. Not unlike many other women my age, I had to reassess, decide what was important to me and make the best of it.

I bought a camera...........................

Happily reunited with my lost love I carried my camera everywhere I went. Caressing it gently I attempted to acquaint myself with every nuance. I clicked the shutter at everything and everyone.

My subjects did not always share my enthusiasm. As they became aware of my presence, they ducked and dodged. Gravity, the heartless wretch, took her toll. Faces began to fall. First a grandmother kerplunked. Then a grandfather slam dunked. I decided to delete. After all, it was the kindest thing to do.

Delete! Delete! As I leaned to delete, I saw reflecting on the screen an image not so easily erased. It was my own fallen face!

Unknowingly, I had begun my quest the winter preceding the fallen face. That winter I had enrolled in a photo journal class.

Naively my expectations were to learn about photography. Ha! The instructor's first assignment was to take one photo of yourself and write (ouch!) a brief sentence or two to sum up who you were.

Maybe at some other point in my life I could have quickly come up with an answer. Perhaps a mother, a wife, a boss............You see the pattern. The answer would have been given in terms of who I was to others.

In the days and weeks that followed, my journal remained blank. My head spun. I was asked to share with a class of strangers who I was. I didn't know!

In the past, I hadn't really focused on my "self". As many women are today, my time was employed by my family, my business and least importantly my home. How I could have allowed the obligatory maintenance of an inanimate object sit in a position of more importance than my "self" is beyond me. In retrospect, my "self" had dissipated rather rapidly in the first few years of marriage. The question was why?????

I made my entry:

After having this revelation, I watched as the other students eagerly shared their photos and stories. My journal remained closed. I had yet to muster the courage to ashamedly admit to the world that "I" wasn't because "I" never believed "I" could!

I had wasted a half century.....................

I began to question everything in an effort to find my "self". So naturally on that sunny day when I saw my reflection, I had questions. I questioned why the image of my fallen face could not be erased. I became aware of my muscles relaxing and my skin falling loose. I became self conscious. I wondered.......Did others notice too?