American Consumerism

"The American consumer is the one that needs the break today."--Senator Thune.

"The American consumer is the one who needs to TAKE a break today."--Me.

Soccer Mom's and SUVs

The radio show I listen to every morning insisted on interviewing a woman who just spent $77 dollars on a tank of gas. "How can Exxon do this? They had record profits last year" "That is a week's worth of groceries" "Highway Robbery!" "This is ridiculous, I can't afford this!!" These were all her comments.

She owns a 2006 Toyota Landcruiser. "I have to have it. I have four children. I have to have an SUV for safety." She filled her tank with 22 gallons, and admitted to getting only 11mpg, 25 if she is on a long stretch of highway. The hosts sympathized with her, "Of course you have to have an SUV! How will your family ever survive with these prices."

Can I reiterate...she owns a 2006 Toyota Landcruiser. That means she bought the beast, in all likelyhood, following the gas spikes that hit the pumps after Hurricane Katrina.

I would like to drop kick that soccer mom for claiming, along with 69% of the nation, that the gas prices had created a hardship for her family. A new 2006 Landcruiser...how will they ever survive!

Chicklit...My SSB Lives On

Any Sex and the City fan will know the SSB reference: Secret Single Behavior. Carrie Bradshaw admits to eating a large stack of saltine crackers drenched in jelly while standing in the kitchen reading fashion magazines, something she would never want a boyfriend to know she did. Mine was less dramatic, I would snuggle up in bed with the latest chicklit (Chick literature) novel to hit the NY Times Bestseller list and stay up until all hours of the night (preferably a Friday "date" night) reading it from cover to cover (I am not a fast reader) nursing a Pepsi or Red Bull along the way. I always took a shower before starting the ritual reading, fresh sheets, phone off.

Since I have been married I have read nothing but that classics (and Harry Potter). But last week I discovered a perfectly pretty pink book cover with simple type face and a sparkling engagement ring entitled Something Borrowed on my way to a collection of Truamn Capote. I loved it, couldn't put it down, and haven't stopped thinking about it since (and yes, I did go so far as putting down new sheets before starting to read). I have even cast it for a major motion picture, starring Rachel McAdams, Scarlett Johansen and Josh Duhamel.

Question du Jour

Fashion. Archuitecture. Art History. Photography. Interior Design. Creative Writing. At one point in my life, most likely high school when (unlike most of my peers) I believed I was capable of anything, I was constantly using some form of artistic expression as a source of enterntainment. I think I had a knack for it. Once, I free-handed a picture of Ursula from the Little Mermaid, it was a perfect likeness. I still have it.

I was enough of an average-achiever in college to only do what was required to graduate, I lived the "College has too much to offer to waste it in the classroom" creed so fully that I lost all track of hobbies or talents. My talent became academic bulemia, the binging and purging of information, and rapid fire papers. The culmination of these talents occured with a 50 page paper on Charles de Gaulle researched and written in less than 24 hours. I got an A- and slept through the following two days.

Now I want to be creative again. Inherently it seems stating you want to be creative makes the achievement thereof unlikely. Doesn't creativity occur spontaneously? What venue/medium do I want to use as my "outlet"?

Trading Spaces made everyone and their dog think they were interior designers (I believe sponged walls will be the decorative stamp of the turn of the millenia...what a mark!), blogs allow joe schmoe (and myself) to fancy ourselves essayists, photo shop allows an unsteady hand with no eye for lighting to alter a picture's composition, and generic scrapbookers are creating artistic masterpieces with mass produced stickers and decorative papers. So what is left for me, a self described elitist, to create which the masses are not yet attempting? Fashion.

So, the question is, should I take courses in fashion while in Paris? I love clothes. I L-O-V-E love them. Even more, I love beautiful, well made clothes with a touch of individuality and on the edge of current trends. I went to Philadelphia this weekend just to see Princess Grace's wedding dress and spent twice as much time inspecting the gown, brides maid dress, flower girl dress, and four additional pieces from the 50s, than I did wandering the halls of the European Artists circa 1850-1900. Is this my new path for channeling creativity? Could I do it? And could I do it well?

But most importantly, would I love it?

April in Paris

There are only a few things in life that I can honestly say I loathe. And one that surpasses them all in my level of hatred...traffic along I-95. I only live 15 miles from my place of work and use the carpool lanes to get there faster. Faster today was two hours later. The long ride had me wishing for two things: more sleep and Paris... April in Paris. The phrase is familiar, and if you think Paris is romantic, the notion of April in Paris is even more so.

"April in Paris/Chestnuts in blossom/Holiday tables under the trees" croons Ella Fitzgerald in the 1950's hit. It is a lovely image. I can see myself, on the Champs...any Champs, sitting under a blossoming tree, sipping some delicious beverage and eating a croissant. The sweet scent of some fragrant flower (whose name I cannot yet pronounce, let alone write) drifting in the breeze. So I read a little about the origins of the song and the writer himself. The following is from an interview with the writer, Vernon Duke:

"The whole song is a hoax...They're talking about giving me the Legion of Honor for getting so many tourists to Paris so early in the season."

And I realize...perhaps there will be traffic in Paris too.

Why I believe Paris is my soul mate

I remember the first time I met Paris. It was late on a crisp fall night. Out the metro car window I caught a fleeting glimpse of that iconic Tower. We quickly jumped off the metro, a group of 20-somethings almost skipping through the city streets like children, giddy and giggling. As we turned the corner the Eiffel Tower began to sparkle. It seemed as if the City of Lights had turned on its lights to welcome me. It was love at first sight.

Our first week together was one of fairy tales. Passerbys on the busy city streets were blurred. Like in the music videos where everything except the lead singer is in fast-forward. My thoughts became our first conversations. And I knew I would never be the same.