Change Your Hair, Change Your Life!

There is a running joke among the people I see a few times a year during my travels. As soon as they see me they see things like, "you've changed your hair again!", "I didn't even know it was you until I got close enough to see your face...", "did you change your hair again?", etc. etc.

I have had the misfortune to not only have 2 fabulous stylists since I was around 23, but to also be able to call them friend. Therefore, I trust them as a stylist and, more importantly, as my friend. I mean, it's their job to make me look good. And have you ever noticed that stylists only hang out with beautiful people?

They say a man has gone through a break-up when he shaves his goatee and a woman when she cuts her hair. You can never judge what's going on with me through my hair because I change it every 6 to 8 weeks. Well, I'd love to chat more, but I'm off to the salon!

Here's to Victoria and Betsy. Thanks for many years of helping me look fresh!

Do You Feel the Love?

After traveling for 5 weeks, I have to admit that Mother's Day really snuck up on me this year. We had taken Grace and Jerry to Pinehurst for Easter weekend, which was really nice, and I had given her a massage for an early Mom's day gift; but I still wanted to so something special for Grace. So she came over to spend the night, drink wine, eat great food, play with the girls and get waited on hand and foot. I have to admit, we really do love spoiling her when she comes over. She has sacrificed so much for me over the years...

Anyway, halfway during her first glass of wine on the porch, she looked at me and said, "You know, Melissie, you aren't nearly as high maintenance as you used to be."

Moms. They really can make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside... Now go pour your own glass of wine.

Road Warrior

It is a beautiful Saturday morning and I'm home, home, home. I've been on the road for a few weeks... Greenville, Cleveland, New Orleans, Greensboro. Coming up are St. Pete and New Bern. It is so sweet when people seem sympathetic about all of my traveling; despite the fact that it is the very basis for how I earn a living.

Now, having acknowledged that this is my job, I must admit that it does get draining. Many Sunday afternoons and Friday nights spent in airports. Lots of early mornings and late nights. Believe me, it is not all glamor. Therefore, it is important to splurge on things that make you look and feel good. This week I was pampered with a manicure, pedicure, and later today, a facial. Paul thinks these are luxuries; however, spending so much time in dry hotels and at 30,000 feet, I think they are necessities.

My brand new Italian made hand-painted shoes shown above, however, that's the luxury. As Paul said, "you spent more on these shoes than we did at Costco last weekend..." You bet I did! These will last way longer than the TP and paper towels! I think of them as an investment.

Unconditional Love

As I'm cleaning the kitchen from last night's fajita fiesta, I walk into the family room to find that Sophie has just thrown up. On my Ugg boots. Yep, my relatively new (2 months), charcoal gray, short Uggs. And what did I do? I asked Soph if she was OK. I pet her little head and calmly walked into the kitchen to remove the mess from my boot.

I've always thought how blessed I am because our pups have never thought of my shoes as chew toys. But now I understand the horror finding half-eaten shoes must evoke from shoe-obsessed moms like me. And it is the unconditional love for our furry beings that keep us from screaming, yelling or harming them in any other way. How can I be mad at that little face?

Maybe I'll soon be ready for motherhood after all...

To Write or Not to Write...

I don't know about you, but I've always dreamed of writing a book. I'm not convinced that anyone would read it, nor is that really the point. I just have a lot to say. I'm thinking of a pseudo-memoir where the reader wouldn't be totally sure if what I was writing was based on my life or fiction (think A Million Little Pieces by James Frey except I would admit to Oprah that I had embellished...)

I haven't told you a lot about my life before Paul... let's just say it was colorful. As a matter of fact, on the morning of our wedding, two of my bride's maids had a great time recounting my romantic history and the theme was "thank GOD that one didn't work out!"

So I'm thinking that would be the premise of an interesting book. A "what not to do when dating" type of epic.

Like we need another one of those. At least it would be a great way to embarrass my future children... In advance.

Stop and Smell the Flowers

So we planted flowers at our house yesterday for the first time. As we wandered around the garden center, it became apparent that we were choosing the same flowers we had at our wedding. Hydrangeas, Calla lilies, Gerber daisies. A vision of pink, purple and blue. Now every time we drive up to our house, we have a visual, floral reminder of that special day.

If we have an argument (OK, maybe I should say WHEN we have an argument) the pups always walk into the room and make us stop and assess what we are really upset about. Now our garden can do the same thing!

If I were a Curator...

I thought I was going to be a curator at some fancy shmancy art gallery in NYC when I was younger. Instead, I was the assistant to the curator at the Hebrew Home for the Aged at Riverdale in the Bronx. Then an assistant curator at Columbia University. Then on to Boston to be an art consultant at Boston Corporate Art. None of that was very fancy. Although I did have big fun living the high life (on credit) in my 20s in Boston. Then I moved back to DC, got a position at AAHSA, and the rest is history.

I love my job. I love our mission, working with the members and knowing we are making this country better for people like my grandparents and Paul's dad. I love knowing we are transforming aging. But sometimes, I can't help but wonder, what life would be like if I had stuck with the art history. Would I be at the National Gallery right now? Would I have gone to Europe? Would I work in a swanky gallery in NYC?

None of this is regret, mind you. It is just an exercise in wondering... do you ever do that?

Regardless of where my path would have taken me, I know I would have owned these fabulous Joan & David pumps!