Dear Diary,

Day ten of “summer of cast” started out poorly.

First of all, I turned off the alarm at 8:25am and rolled over for a few more zzzs because I slept fitfully last night with some leg pain. Wriggly and Zip decided to join me for a few minutes and took up their usual spots under my arm and behind my knee - which means I can’t turn over or get out of bed without persuading them to move. I finally pushed them out of the way and wiggled over to the side of the bed only to discover it was now 10:25am. Jeez.

I went through my routine of getting my good foot into a brace, and a walking shoe onto my cast, then got the crutches and eased up for the walk to the bathroom, which takes a few minutes as my body remembers how to deal with my cast, sore foot, crutches and bruised palms (from the crutches). Avoiding mirrors is best during this time. I rummaged through my three possible (and clean) wardrobe choices that will fit over my cast, then chose the easiest (closest) item – a sundress, and balanced on one foot while I pulled it over my head. This was complicated by stopping in the middle to also pull on a sports bra, which, I know, doesn’t exactly look great under the dress but does make me feel more “officially dressed” for the day. My “good” leg wobbled a little but didn’t let me down.

I crutched it over to the sink and did the usual morning routine – moisturizer, deodorant, toothpaste, then sat down on the stool to put in my contacts. My heart jumped a little when I half dropped the contact case and lost my right contact for a moment. I sat there, staring at the case, the vanity top, the washcloth near the sink – it had disappeared into thin air. I slowly examined everything again, and while turning over the case (which I was still holding), I found it – stuck to the bottom. Aha! I pinched it between my finger and thumb and reached for the bottle of solution. Apparently, this contact wasn’t satisfied with its unsuccessful attempt at freedom, so it flung itself in the air (I swear this happened). I actually sat there, staring at my finger for a minute, trying to make sense of what had just occurred. On an ordinary day, I would carefully get down on the floor and look for this little bit of what can only be described as wet saran wrap. This cast kinda (really) inhibits my mobility these days, so that option was out. I had to grab my glasses and just start scanning the floor, my lap, the stool, the cabinet – trying for a glimpse of any little drop. I resorted to just scraping my finger along the floor – and there it was, now sporting a few dog hairs but nevertheless good to go after a good rinse.

I grabbed my tote bag and loaded it up with items I thought I might need during the day. Getting up and down the stairs is not something you want to attempt often with this cast.  It involves bumping down stair by stair on my butt, with my crutches tied in a bundle next to me, pulling the tote bag. Not pretty – and best tackled alone, since the stairs are steep and narrow. Plus, these stairs are the “scene of the crime” that resulted in my journey through Summer of Cast, so I like to avoid them.

I had come up with the idea that washing my hair would be easier in the kitchen sink than trying to stand on one foot, blinded by shampoo, in the shower. I have a tall stool and a nozzle at that sink, so it seems logical (maybe I’m desperate after five days without a shampoo). Shampoo, conditioner, shine spray, the hair dryer, a turban, a towel, a brush all go into the tote bag. Now I had a ten pound tote bag tied to my left crutch and two dogs that are excited to finally go downstairs.  We all juggled for position at the top of the stairs – why is it that the same dogs that refuse to come when called also refuse to leave your side when you want them to? I tied my crutches together, lowered the tote bag down about three stairs, and start ed bumping my way to the bottom. Getting down takes some time since I have to stop every few stairs to reposition the crutches and the tote bag. Half way down, I realized I was getting quite a carpet burn on my butt (not typical) and it dawned on me that I had forgotten one important piece of my wardrobe for the day. I contemplated reversing course, but I was already starting to feel fatigue in my good leg. To complicate matters, my phone starts ringing, so I have to dig it out of my sports bra (the only place I could stash it).

“Hi Sugarpop, how is your day going?” My husband has started an endearing habit of calling to check up on me while I’m homebound. I hesitated to go over my entire morning thus far, so I just blurt it out…

“I’m halfway down the stairs, I need coffee, and I forgot to put on any panties!”

I’ve read all kinds of articles in Glamour and Cosmo about keeping the flame alive by sharing little intimate secrets with your husband, like picking an unexpected time to tell him you aren't wearing underwear.

This was not what they had it mind.

I heard the hesitation in my husband’s voice as he tried to digest the sentence he had just heard. To his credit, he recognized the frustration in my voice and just soldiered on. “Oh, no, honey. Do you really need them today? Are you going to be OK?”

Well, that deflated me in a hurry. I felt a little foolish letting a short but challenging journey get me so flustered. I held the phone out a second before telling him that yes, I was going to be fine today.

After we hung up, I gathered up my stuff and continued bumping down the stairs, making a mental note to stash some extra underwear in my tote bag for emergency use. At the bottom of the stairs, I paused a bit before untying my crutches and I stole a quick glance at the clock.

It was 11:40am. Dear Diary, day ten is halfway over.

Sometimes, a setback like this is best viewed with a sense of humor. In case you missed it, I took a tumble down some stairs that resulted in one broken ankle and one sprained one.

My minor issues are nothing compared to the hurdles some people scale every day, so I’m going to try to observe and learn all I can during my little respite. It’s only been nine days, but I have a few observations already.

1) You may as well leave your humility at the Orthopedic Clinic. You’ll need help getting through doors, getting into a car, or getting into the shower. Your spouse, friend or parent (maybe all three if they take turns) will be your personal “go-getter” and there is no way around it. As soon as you get propped up on the couch, you will find that whatever you need is in a different room, on a different floor, or still in the car.

2) Everything takes longer – much longer – than normal. Add 30 minutes on to your morning routine, longer if you have to negotiate stairs or deal with pets. If you are a multi-tasker, your life will be shattered. Making coffee is  suddenly a complicated process - resign yourself to drinking it while sitting right in front of the coffee maker. Crutches don’t come with cup holders.  Do you need to go to the potty? LEAVE RIGHT NOW. Choosing something to wear is a bit easier when your wardrobe is suddenly reduced to items that fit over the cast (in my case, three sundresses and two pair of yoga capri pants), but getting those items in the laundry is yet another task my poor overworked husband has to do.

3) You will be amazed how many times a day you hit your foot, toe or leg. I’m not even counting stubbing your toe, or kicking a chair leg. Dragging your foot on the carpet or accidentally kicking a pillow will still send shooting pains up your leg. The weight of the duvet will make your toes throb in the middle of the night, and then those same toes will freeze when you kick off the covers.

4) Keep a note pad handy. I’ve discovered six redecorating and cleaning tasks in my living room alone (I have some free time to spend staring at walls). You might want to keep a blog to record some thoughts because you’ll probably never have this much quality “alone” time again.

5) Four to six weeks is a daunting amount of home-bound down time to someone who is usually busy “doing”. I’m worried about my brain melting and my backside spreading. I’ve always hated daytime TV, but I’ve suddenly started to care about Hoda and Kathie Lee. I talk back to the newscasters, particularly the weatherman. And just how many episodes are there of “Say Yes To The Dress? I now have online classes scheduled and books to read, but Netflix is quickly becoming an obsession. On the upside, did you know there was a YouTube channel to help you exercise while wearing a cast?

“Holy Crap”.

Those were the words coming out of my mouth as I tilted sideways in my kitchen – crutches sliding on the tile floor, coffee cup tilting precariously.

And then, splat!

Luckily, I think I did no new damage to my recently broken right ankle, or to my “good” left ankle, which is still black and blue from the sprain. But my pride – ouch.

I am a “fixer”.  A problem solver, a helper – I am usually the one who rushes into assist everyone else. I don’t do sick or needy too well and I have real trouble asking for help. So, while my mom, husband and wonderful friend have helped me so much in the past two days since my accident, I just couldn’t bring myself to ask someone to volunteer yet again, just to wait on me during the day.

Which is why I found myself on the kitchen floor this morning, covered in coffee and terrified that I might end up back in the ER with one (more) misstep.

Why is it so hard for some women to admit that they aren’t super heroes after all?

One week ago, I was trying to adjust to my new “normal” of being between jobs for the first time in 19 years. I thought the anxiety issues I was experiencing were a bit, well, dramatic and dealt with them by upping my exercise schedule and revamping my health routines (including a visit to three doctors for checkups). By last Thursday, I was starting to feel more like myself. You know what getting comfortable means – it means a change is right around the corner.

My change happened suddenly in a tangle of limbs at the bottom of a staircase late on Monday evening.  Followed shortly by trips (no pun intended) to the ER, orthopedic clinic and Walgreen’s. And pain, don’t forget the pain. Ouch.

But the aftermath is what I can’t quite conquer. My brain still thinks I can jump out of bed in the morning, or trot across the room to get a cup of coffee. It is a humbling experience when you have to ask for help to get into your underwear, let me tell you. Thank God for husbands, moms and good friends.

So I started out this morning with confidence that I could master the art of my new daily routine by doing what I do – figuring out little life hacks. Cute little hacks like gathering everything I need from the bedroom in a sturdy tote bag and lowering it over the bannister so I don’t have to tackle the stairs more than once a day. Or standing balanced on my crutches in the middle of the kitchen trying to put together a decent cup of coffee and breakfast.

Just as I’m giving myself a virtual fist bump for adjusting to my new “normal”, one crutch slipped a bit and I tumbled, in slow motion, hitting the door, then the wall, and finally sliding down to the floor in a shower of coffee.

That old saying “pride goeth before the fall” rings a bit true this morning. Maybe I’ll learn a new trick by all this, and find a way to adjust to new challenges moment by moment, instead of pretending that I have to make my days appear normal in the aftermath of change.

OK, breathe.
Repeat after me…I don’t have to do it all. 
I don’t have to fix everything.
It’s OK to ask for help right now.

Who can bring me a Dr. Pepper?

I’m not a big shopper these days. I spent almost five years producing a shopping magazine and radio show, so bargain hunting still seems a little like work to me.

I am, however, still frugal. Okay, I’m cheap – I don’t like to pay a lot of money for clothes, shoes, purses – you won’t find designer brands stacked up in my closet. You will find a lot of clothes I don’t wear anymore since I started working from home. All those skirts, trousers and sheaths are starting to gather dust, along with the high heels.

What I didn’t have is a great pair of comfy jeans.

I don’t mean to say I am jean-free. I have about ten pair, of assorted colors, sizes and weight. Some are barely worn (did I really think I was going to wear white jeans?) and at least two pair are almost a decade old, and in danger of going threadbare in places you don’t want to be threadbare (no one wants to see that).

I found myself in Steinmart recently, looking for a nice blouse to wear for a TV appearance. The “tips” they sent over said to wear solid, bright colors. My closet is 90% black, and 10% faded, so I needed something new with a little color. I found a great teal blouse on sale for $17 and as I was walking back to the dressing room, I spied a rack of skinny jeans in a deep blue hue for $29. Soft, stretchy…sold!

They turned out to be Bandolino, the Selene version. I’d only seen Bandolino shoes before. These were the knit-to-fit style, and soft as yoga pants. They have a zipper and pockets, which makes them handy (I love to put my cell phone and a Kleenex in my pocket when I leave the house).

The thing I love most about them is that they are comfortable. I mean pajama-jean comfortable! But they look like regular skinny jeans. This particular color is so dark that is can pass for black with the right color (not that there’s anything wrong with blue).  And they didn’t stretch out. No sagging at the waist, seat or knee after a few hours like some stretchy jeans.

It took a little while for me to come around to the skinny jean style. That probably means it won’t be “in” this season, since I am never “on trend”.  I resisted going for the skinny jeans ever since Stacy London on What Not To Wear told us curvy girls to not even try them on – stick with the boot cut. But I don’t care anymore. I’ve worn these jeans four times in two weeks. I love them so much I went back to look for a black pair (yes, I have an addiction to black clothing) and, even though they didn’t have black, I ended up buying another blue pair, just so I can have a spare.  

I looked online, but I have not found a source for this exact jean. These are not the pull-ons or the capris. They hit right at the ankle. I’m a little worried that they will shrink. The label says to turn inside out and tumble dry on low – not sure I can keep that up. Jeans don’t get special treatment at my house.  

I think they work well with almost every shoe I’ve tried except sneakers (I’m only 5’4 – you may be able to pull that look off if you are taller). I like them best with my ballet flats.

They looked nice on TV with that teal blouse and my heels! You know I’m comfortable in these jeans if I dare to show a pic of my backside. Thanks to my hubby for volunteering to take the shot J

This is not a sponsored post, I just love the jeans! 

UPDATE 4/9 - found some Selene style/darkwash onlne at a source called Stage Stores. I have not ordered yet. Looks like SteinMart, BonTon and Belk are sold out of these jeans.Grab them wherever you can find them! They run small - if you are curvy, order one size up. I usually wear an 8 and I needed a 10.

http://tinyurl.com/ljbkpth


I’m in my reinvention stage! Currently touring as the co-founder of Tykester App. Follow me on Twitter as I find great things for vibrant, real women or at www.tamtalks.com

I wish I had longer, lusher lashes. I must not be alone., the selection of mascaras out there on the market is staggering.   I’ve tried at least two dozen of them in the past few years – drugstore, department store, beauty boutique and online. I never seem to last with one brand very long. My lashed are blond - practically invisible, so mascara is essential to me. My aging eyes need some help to look, well, lets just say “fresher”.

So far, I’ve purchased false fiber mascara, waterproof mascara, mascaras that lengthen, thicken, separate, fan out and supposedly curl.

I haven’t yet found the perfect one, so I’ve settled for mascaras that don’t smudge or wear off. Most mascaras do a credible job, but staying power is key with my long hours.

I wandered into Ulta yesterday to grab some eyebrow gel (I also have blond eyebrows – part of the fun of being a redhead, I guess). As usual, a salesperson with perfect makeup found me wandering the aisles. Her eyelashes were amazing, so I plunked down $25 to try the brand new Roller Lash by benefit.

Have you tried it yet?
http://www.ulta.com/ulta/browse/productDetail.jsp?productId=xlsImpprod11951085
 
It comes in a neat retro tube inspired a 50s inspired hair curler. New mascara is always fun since it isn’t clumpy yet and there is always that gleeful feeling that you may have stumbled upon something wonderful.

Day 1

I wanted to give this one a good shot, so I headed to my bathroom mirror to take off what little makeup I had on before trying this one out.

It has very little smell, which I think is a plus. The brush is actually a comb, in a somewhat unique shape that combines a lot of elements of the drugstore brands. I’m pretty sure that the only real difference we pay for in mascara brands is the applicator.  This one is curved slightly, with shorter “teeth” on one side. I’m not sure why a brush has teeth all the way around if it is curved. The smaller size of the applicator made it easier to wield around my smallish eyes.

This applicator is also thin, which I like, since I can get down to the roots of my eyelashes without smearing the product. I wiped on a few swipes quickly. It adhered to the lashes nicely for a first coat. The major “selling point” on this mascara is it’s supposed ability to curl your lashes. I have a problem with heavy product weighing down my sparse lashes. My lashes did not curl, however, they did look slightly “lifted” and the color is a satin black, so one coat suffices for a quick fix. Today, I wanted to check out the staying-power, so one coat is all I did.  Six hours later, when I went to take it off, it was nicely in place, no smudges, and came off easily enough – easier than the waterproof that I usually wear (my eye makeup remover is Almay Moisturizing Pads).

Day 2

I spent a little more time today prepping my lashes to make sure they were dry and product free. Again, easy application on coat #1. I took my time and brushed upwards with long strokes, and held the brush in place for a little longer than I usually do. I keep a Q-tip handy for clean ups, but I did not need it with this applicator. A slightly annoying thing is the little clump of product on the end of the applicator that I had to wipe off. Each time I dipped it back into the tube.

One of my go-to mascaras is They’re Real, also from benefit (it never smudges, but it weighs down my lashes so they never curl, even with a curler). It has this neat little ball of bristles at the end of the brush to help you with tiny little end lashes and clumping. I wish they would combine these two applicators if it would work out to curl and declump.

I worked on coat #2 a few minutes later and could see some real results. Again, it did not curl my lashes, but did lift them slightly, and didn’t make a clumpy mess with more product applied. I finished off my lipstick and applied a tiny coat #3 to the outside lashes. At the end of the day, no smudges, lashes still lifted slightly. I wouldn’t say they looked long and lush, but improved a bit over my regular mascara.

Day 3

Usually I am either sold or not sold by this time, but the jury is still out on this one. I did the same routine, taking a few minutes longer to try to get it right. This time, I curled my lashes to see if it would help – I didn’t notice any difference at the end. I used a dry eyelash brush before and after coat #1 to see if it helped on eyelash separation (not really, but this mascara doesn’t clump that much).

I feel bad for my left eye. I start out with good intentions, always on my right eye. I take lots of time with “righty”, and then get started on “Lefty”. I always have trouble with the left. I don’t know if it because the angle or my shaky hand, but my left eye eyelashes are always a little clumpier, a little less separated, and flatter. I’m not going to blame the mascara on that. As with Day #2, I got the same results – a slight lift in the tips, nice flat black color, but no show-stopping lashes. I will give it a rave review for long-wear – there was no smudging at all for three days, which is a big plus. But since it didn’t do much for making my lashes look longer or fuller, I probably won’t be shelling out $25 each month just to get a slight lift.

Can I “face” the world?

So, has anyone sent you #TheNoMakeupSelfieChallenge on Facebook? At first, I just ignored it as my friends passed it around. I do love my makeup.

It might stem from being a child in the south during the 60s and 70s, watching moms put on a dress and lipstick just to go to the grocery store. It may be a compensation for growing up in the shadow of an intensely beautiful mom, who turns heads still at 75.

Or maybe I’m just a little vain? Ding. I think we have a winner.

My moisturizer takes a few minutes to soak in. This morning, in my hotel room, I started doing my usual inspection and “critique” of my face in the mirror as I waited for it to dry. Wrinkles, dark spots, redness - I guess I’m checking to see what has deteriorated overnight. I may not hide my age from the world, but I don’t like my face to announce it, either.

As my body impatiently screamed for coffee, I sat there, waiting for moisturizer to set. I was puzzled, and maybe a little embarrassed. Who, exactly, was I trying to impress this morning? I was in a hotel, in a town where not one person knew me –so what if I trotted out in the world with a bare face? What’s the worst that could happen – people faint, babies cry, birds fall out of the sky?

I picked up my phone and snapped a photo so I could compare it to one I took yesterday, right after a TV appearance (it took me over 20 minutes to do my face and hair yesterday morning). I was shocked to see there wasn’t a ton of difference. Yes, one looks a little more polished and colorful, but the face is – for better or worse – still me.

So I threw on some shoes and toddled out into the world with my sports top, yoga pants and bare face. No one in Starbucks fainted. The doorman didn’t say “jeez, put on some lipstick, lady”.

This doesn’t mean I’ll be tossing the lip gloss any time soon (stockholders in L’Oreal can breathe easy). I’ve discovered that, while I CAN go without it, I still enjoy the whole ritual and routine of what my grandmother used to call “putting on my face”. So, I choose to keep doing it – for me, because it makes me feel more like the “best” me.

I think I’ll take a pass on sending that No Makeup Selfie Challenge to any of my Facebook friends. I hope every woman chooses to face the world each day with her best  - and she also lets her own heart determine WHAT her best may be.

Is Valentine’s Day becoming a thing of the past? I hope not. When I was in junior high, a boy I hardly knew gave me a huge, ruffled, sparkly box of chocolates – in the middle of a bustling, loud hallway filled with 13 year olds, most of whom stopped to gawk at the exchange. I was mortified and thrilled at the same time, and I kept that box for a decade.

My family is blessed to span four generations. I think we all look at Valentine’s Day differently, except for the fact we want to share our affections with the people we love. Here are some tips on the best way to reach out to your Valentines, no matter how old or young they might be.

The Greatest Generation and Pre-Baby Boomers (anyone born before 1946): Visit in person. These loved ones deserve a hug and a “thank you”. Remind them how much they mean to you. Bring flowers. Be thankful you can visit with them and not just leave a bouquet in their memory.

Boomers (born 1946 – 1960): Send a traditional Valentine by mail, then pick up the phone and call. If they don’t answer their cell, try their landline because you know they still have one. Speak up!  Don’t forget to say “I Love You”, because it will mean the world to them.

Gen X (born 1961 – 1984): Email these guys because they are way too busy with soccer games, PTA meetings, business trips, aging parents and family bonding.  Want to make them laugh? Try a JibJab video or a BitStrip.

GEN Y (hard to define, maybe born mid-70s – 2000): Post something on their Facebook. Overshare. If you’re romantically involved, change your status to “in a relationship” and text them something slightly naughty. If you can meet in person, bring cupcakes – preferably vegan, possibly baked with Kale juice.

Millennials (mid 80s to 2004): Keep it simple because you probably only have six seconds of attention.  ‘Gram ‘em, or send a Vine video. If you are more than casual friends, try SnapChat.

Tweens: Don’t even try. Really. Leave the chocolate on the table and back away slowly.

Toddlers: Buy candy, then unwrap it slowly and quietly while standing behind the door in the laundry room. Trust me - they will find you.

Happy Valentine’s Day!