In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a war on women in our country. And we’re letting it happen. Not only are we allowing it, we are willing participants. It’s not only being conducted by our politicians; it’s in the media, it’s in the mommy wars, it’s in the way we judge each other for the way we look.

I read this post over at Beauty Redefined: Taking Back Beauty for Females Everywhere and was especially hit by this passage:

We are asked to believe our power, our very identities, our worth, all lie in our bodies because we ARE our bodies. So we are asked to fix every part of our bodies – from the wrong-colored roots of our hair to the scratchy bottoms of our feet and every new flaw in between , (baggy eyelids, insufficient eyelashes, saggy knees, cellulite, stretch marks, and every other sign of life). Men are not asked to fix these “flaws” because this is women’s work – a work that must last a lifetime.

I like to think I am above all this. I rarely wear makeup. I’ve let my hair go grey. But as I sat yesterday morning piling on potion upon potion to prevent/combat wrinkles, it hit me that I am a very real part of this.

Which made me think even more about the time I spend trying to meet some small standard of the beauty ideal. I figure I am permanently excluded because I am fat. But maybe–just maybe–I can do something that cuts me some slack.

For instance, my quest for the perfect lipstick color. Right now I probably have fifteen different lipsticks in my purse. I wear lipstick maybe once every two weeks. Last week I spent 45 minutes to an hour at various stores looking for The Perfect Shade of Lipstick. It has to exist, right? I should have wonderful lips like they show in magazines and on TV, right?!

I didn’t intentionally go to any store to look for lipstick. While running errands I eased into the cosmetic departments and perused. It just happens…the lipstick displays are like a magnet to me.

What would happen if I found the right shade of lipstick? The logical part of me knows that nothing will happen. I will have different colored lips. I will forget to wear the lipstick. But there’s a little part of me whispering in my brain that if I find The Perfect Shade of Lipstick my life will become spectacular!

Where the hell did that little part of me come from? I’m supposed to be above that! I avoid women’s magazines for the conflicting messages they send. I don’t believe that only thin people are beautiful. Yet, here I am wasting time looking for something that doesn’t exist.

Sadly, this is the message we are giving our daughters and our sons. I wonder what Aaron thinks when he’s with me as I go on safari for that elusive creature–The Perfect Shade of Lipstick. Does he think this is how I spend my days? Will he expect girls his own age to spend time so frivolously?

Do we really want this to be the message we continue giving to our children (boys and girls!)? Is this the message American women want to continue giving to the rest of the world–we are nothing but our looks?

Think about it…

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“Are we there yet?”

Any parent who’s ever gone on a road trip has heard the familiar cry from the backseat. We try to point out the cool stuff along the way, like the hill that resembles a buffalo. We try to engage them in the joy of family togetherness because, really, how often are we all together like this? But it doesn’t work. Kids want to be there NOW.

You’d think as adults, we’d know better. You’d think we’d understand how important it is to slow down and savor the here and now. To soak up all of life’s experiences.But more often than not, our inner child continues to cry out, “Are we there yet?”

When I set out to write my novel, The Mother Road, I started with a simple idea: What would happen to a marriage expert if her husband demanded a divorce? Natalie Marino thought she had arrived. She believed she was existing in the now she’d worked so hard to achieve. But the end of her marriage is not only an emotional blow, it decimates the foundation of her career. Natalie finds herself starting a new journey, one she didn’t want to take and wasn’t prepared for.

Have you ever had that happen? You knew exactly where you were going. You had a plan, a roadmap, if you will. You set out with confidence, sure of your destination… and then something went wrong. Bad weather.An unexpected fork in the road. Four blown tires and no spare in the trunk. Before you know it, you’ve ended up in a place you never thought you’d be. You look back, and the cry isn’t “Are we there yet?” Now it’s “How did I get here?”

Life’s journey, however, is an amazing and complex thing. Often, it’s the unexpected bits—the twists and turns and detours—that lead us to the best parts of our lives.

We all start in the same place. We enter the world as tiny, helpless infants, dependent on others for our every need and desire. We all end in the same place. We cross the threshold from life to death to embrace the next life. It’s what’s in between the common experiences of birth and death that shapes the unique, one-of-a-kind person we all become.

No matter where you are in your journey, I encourage you to dig deep. If you’re experiencing pain or sorrow, acknowledge it, own it, then push through it to what’s beyond. There’s no joy without pain; no rainbow without rain; no diamond without extreme heat and pressure. If you’re living a life you love, soak it up like a sponge, then wring yourself out on the ones you love. Soak them in delight!

Are we there yet? No, not by a long shot. And aren’t you glad?

Jennifer AlLee believes the most important thing a woman can do is discover her identity in God – a theme that carries throughout her stories. She has written skits, activity pages, and over one hundred contributions to Concordia Publishing House’s popular My Devotions series. Her novels include The Love of His Brother (Five Star, November 2007), The Pastor’s Wife (Abingdon Press, February 2010), The Mother Road (Abingdon Press, April 2012), and the upcoming A Wild Goose Chase Christmas, book two in the Quilts of Love series (Abingdon Press, November 2012). She’s an active member of American Christian Fiction Writers and Romance Writers of America. Jennifer resides in the grace-filled city of Las Vegas with her husband and teenage son. Visit her website, see the book video, read the first chapter.

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It was my birthday Saturday and we celebrated with the usual chocolate cream pie. Yum!!!

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I understand this is a real commercial/infomercial. I am not making this up. You can see it here.

Back in my day, I would have curled up and died if Rick Springfield had showed up on my parents’ porch, bearing tubes of clearasil.

Of course, if Rick Springfield or Ricky Martin or Bruce Campbell or Vincent D’Onofrio or Steven Weber (aka The Guys) showed up on my doorstep these days, I’d gladly accept the acne treatment, because it would be much less embarassing than the other things they could bring me…

Poise pads…because women of a certain age experience LBL (aka light bladder leakage). Whoopie and Kirstie have told us about it on commercials. I don’t need handsome idols bringing them to me in person!

Activia…it’s bad enough that the people in commercials spend time with Jamie Lee Curtis talking about irregularity. Imagine if one of The Guys showed up with a year’s supply of the yogurt that you need to consume multiple times each day to experience regularity. Throw in a box or two of exlax and my mortification will be complete.

NutriSystem…nothing like opening the front door to the televised message that you’re fat and need an intervention. And The Guys have decided that freeze-dried faux food is the way to go! Slamming door while yelling curse words, do I!

Hair Color…it would seriously bother me if The Guys showed up with some hair color and told me to cover the grey. Especially after being called Jim’s “mom” the other night. (Yes, that bothered me completely and totally, and I am still traumatized by it. And I’m considering coloring my hair again!) I’d probably throw myself into the limo that brought them to my house, yelling, “Take me to the hairdresser! I’m old! Take me to the salon, I need help!” If I succumb to the requisite champagne blonde for old women, please slap me!

These things are at the top of my list. I guess you could add some intervention for perimenopause to complete the mortification. Anything you’d like to add? Who wouldn’t you want to see on your doorstep delivering an anti-agent potion?!

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Do the sex lives of today’s politicians matter when you step into the voting booth? Do you care about their sex lives? Do they deserve their privacy?

This was the question I found while exploring the  EdenFantasys Sex and Politics forum.

My immediate reaction was: Eric Wiener. Kelly and I had just been talking about him last week. I say he’s done with politics because his sex scandal was so damn juvenile. Sending texts with pictures of your junk is something a teenage boy does, not a grown politician. Honestly, do you want someone who shows such poor judgement having a hand in any political pot?!

Then I thought about John Edwards. The man is on trial for election improprieties, most of which were to cover up his affair with a film maker. The golden boy of politics stepped out on his ill wife and fathered a child with another woman. Oops…not ever getting my vote.

Sex stories and politicians seem to go hand-in-hand. We live in a very voyeuristic society and nothing grabs the medias’ attention faster than sex. Who’s sleeping with whom? Who’s hiring prostitutes? Who’s cheating?

I think it says more about us when the media grabs on to a politician’s sexual antics than their actual politics. It really is true: sex sells.

Where do you draw the line? What sex scandal would cause you to never vote for that politician no matter what?

I’ll call myself traditionally open. What happens in private can stay there. But if you’re caught cheating, man up and admit it. If you continue denying the charges and then have to change your story, you’ve lost my respect. If you’re cheating on a sick wife, vote lost. If you’re messing with anyone underage, vote lost. If you’re caught doing something that you’ve condemned and preached against, vote lost.

All of this makes me wonder: why are there no women politicians involved in sex scandals? Are women more in  control of their sex lives? Are they more discreet? Thoughts? I’d love to hear them!

This commentary was provided in exchange for a gift card to Eden Fantasys–the sex toy store.

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I read this in one day and was stressed out completely by the story! I had to turn the pages and read as fast as I could so I could get to the conclusion of the story. I’m in a mood, so it was almost too stressful. Almost…

In Guilty Wives…

Abbie Elliott and three friends leave their husbands behind and head to Monte Carlo for a girls-only four-day trip. Champagne, bikinis, and casinos. Inhibitions are left behind as the women revel in their faux singleness.

Until the morning after, when the yacht they spent the night on is raided and they are all dragged away in handcuffs. Detained and arrested in France, the four women are accused of a horrific crime. The evidence against them is damning.

But Abbie never gives up. Even when threatened and tortured, she won’t say she’s something she’s not: guilty.

Abbie’s story is a good one. One woman refuses to give in when everyone around her tells her she must. She won’t do it for her children, her husband, or her best friends. She is determined to discover the truth.

Another Patterson must-read! If you’re feeling really stressed or anxious, you might want to delay it until you’re feeling better.

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But last week I saw a major online retailer pushing vacuums for Mother’s Day!

Good God! What if my family sees these ads and thinks a vacuum cleaner is a grand Mother’s Day present?! The horror!

Last year, I gave my men a detailed list, complete with links for the things I wanted for Mother’s Day. They did good. I got a camera bag and the knitting needles I wanted. Yay!

This year I am winging it because there’s really nothing I want. Well, that can be bought. I toyed with the idea of the Cricut, and have received sales notices for some great deals. But I’m still not convinced I need one. OK, I know I don’t need one. Will I use one?! That’s the magic question.

The last time my birthday was on a Saturday, we spent the day at the twins’ baseball game. I yakked with the moms. Then the team sang “Happy Birthday” to me. I want to go back there. To that exact day. I want all the family angst to be over and everyone happy and loving. I want us all to go to Lou Malnati’s afterwards, sunburned and hot, tired, but happy.

I know I’m not supposed to yearn for the past. But sometimes I do…

All I know is I’d better not get a vacuum cleaner or any cleaning appliance this weekend. Or you’ll be reading about me on Yahoo news Monday morning. It won’t be pretty…

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Are you looking for free or almost free books? Then May 7th through 9th will be your favorite days of the month!

Romances, thrillers, and paranormal, oh my! Dozens of books by authors new and old! Free (or nearly free!) on Amazon!

For the free books, check out Free Partay. For nearly free books, check out Indie Book Blowout!

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Phish Net Stalkings is a romantic suspense with a tech twist.

Jane East is looking for love. Her attempt at on-line dating left her gun-shy. Then she lets loose and meets the chief of police, where things get hot and heavy until she discovers he’s wearing women’s underwear. He doesn’t get a chance to explain that he was undercover since she bolts into the night. Besides, Jane hates the police–after all they were responsible for the deaths of her mother and her surrogate grandmother! Despite her determination to avoid Chief Chance, they can’t keep their hands off each other. Which puts a crimp in the whole avoiding-the-police thing. Jane’s world begins spinning out of control: her business is sabotaged, her life is in danger. As she prepares to flee once again, she wonders if loving Cooper Chance is a good enough reason to stay.

The story is a good one and the character of Cooper Chance is yummy. Jane East is a little too good. At times the story-telling has too much detail and seems to drag, and the ending comes on like a runaway freight, but it is a fun read.

You won’t be sorry if you take some time to spend with Phish Net Stalkings.

I was given a copy of this novel so that I could review it. This in no way influenced my review.

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