The Curse of an Overactive Imagination*

 *I wasn't diagnosed or anything.

I'm totally on board with the proponents of encouraging imaginative play among children because really, promoting imagination is promoting resourcefulness and creativity.  I can't remember for certain what my parents did specifically to hone my imagination but I do remember a lot of Archie comics (trips to Filbar's were so exciting!), Lau Fu Zi (aka Old Master Q), and even a bunch of Tagalog comics like Pitit, Planet Opdi Eyps (it's a good thing my spelling turned out well, huh!), Eklok, and the whole gang from Funny Komiks.  

I also remember being given a dining play-set with little plates and cups and saucers, which I would use to sometimes host tea parties with my stuffed toys, and some days as props in my fabulous cooking show, patterned after Wok with Yan (complete with *imaginary* audience). I even recall cutting up old kitchen sponges into cubes and pretending they were ingredients to my recipes - very versatile, by the way, passing off as potatoes or apples, fake sizzle optional.

Watch out, Rachael Ray

Among other things, I'm grateful to my parents for encouraging my love of reading, and all these other activities that contributed to my developmental growth.  Sometimes though, a rich and fertile imagination can work against you, especially when it causes difficulty in sleeping, or loony moments.

I started watching Dexter while I was living in Singapore and although it's not horror-horror, the suspense and sinister nature of the show introduced my mind to terrors previously unknown.  

Thanks, Google Images

Maybe it was also because I would watch the show alone, that's why it was easier for me to get all paranoid (nobody there to tell me I was being silly).  Anyway, every time I'd watch an episode, this would usually go on for a couple of days:

The art of showering with eyes wide open.
Soap in my eyes is better than being caught unawares and stabbed by a serial killer

Come to think of it, even as a grade schooler, my imagination would scare me more than whatever it was that started all of it.  I would refuse to read R.L. Stine books or the Are You Afraid of the Dark? series, unless I could read them in a corner, with my back against the wall...the better to see approaching monsters, of course.  This arrangement was totally ruined when my brother casually asked, "what about those monsters that walk through walls?"

Thanks a lot.

Recently, my husband and I agreed on implementing a new house rule, where we would let the other know our whereabouts at all times.  This is to address potential devastation and probable insanity caused by zany worst-case ideas when text messages and calls remain unanswered for six hours (true story).  Once, when J and I were still dating and in our long distance relationship, I had to call his mom to ask if she knew where he was.  He wasn't answering my calls or messages, and I was getting very worried!  While images of horrific car accidents or a violent episode of choking on a deadly piece of chicken bone played in my mind, turns out, this was happening:

REALLY.

9 times out of 10, I'm pleased as pie to have an active imagination - it's the best way to pass the time (take that, new-fangled gadgets!).  I just wish I can reel it in sometimes and calm the heck down in the face of really well-made horror flicks (in the rare event that I actually go see them, that is) or other life hiccups.  Plus, the next time J gives me a scare again, THIS.

Buffet Belly: The True Story of How My Metabolism Packed Up & Left Me

Last Friday night (I didn't mean to, but I sang this in my head as I typed it...Katy Perry-style), J & I drove to San Juan to celebrate Cousin Edward's 40th birthday at Guevarra's, Chef Rolando Laudico's buffet service restaurant.

The Filipiniana-style house was reserved for families and friends of Kuya Edward and his 5 other celebrant friends.

Soon after arriving and greeting Kuya Edward, as well as saying hello to relatives, J & I proceeded to the buffet area to survey the spread.  Saying I was famished was an understatement (it was 9pm, well past my dinner time!).  Now I am not new to buffet-style eating.  Growing up, I would always have Sunday lunch buffet with my family.  We now joke about our buffet jaunts that would last for 3 hours (we'll sometimes skip dinner in light of the blatant piggy-ness earlier, to be fair!), our family feasts that would inadvertently cause restaurants to close down (we ate them to the ground...sad but true), and our bottomless pits for stomachs, strategically concealed in normal-sized bodies.  Really, considering our appetites, we were surprised we didn't wake up to find ourselves transformed:

This was a real fear for me

Back in the day, we could polish off at least 5 plates full of food, with room left for a round or two of dessert.  The night we ate at Guevarra's, J & I just had 2 plates each before we raised the white flag of surrender.

True story

We marveled at how we were no longer buffet warriors, getting our money's worth (possibly more) at these types of establishments.  I was telling whining to my sister over the weekend that I used to be able to eat whatever I wanted, without having to worry about gaining a pound.  

The good old days

Now, even a teeny tiny bite of something sinful and decadent will come haunt me and poke my midsection.

Rendered unconscious by skinny jeans

I remember watching a show where Paris Hilton tells her friends at the gym that she didn't have to work out to keep a figure like hers.  I would have dropped a dumbbell on her feet.  Us lesser mortals will just have to watch what we eat (no more finishing a whole pint of ice cream in one sitting - I'm looking at you too, Ahia) and squeeze in a bit of exercise or some other form of physical activity in our busy lives (does shopping count --> walking in malls, carrying shopping bags?).

It's not going to be easy though, especially when the husband comes home after a weekend out with the boys bearing this beauty:

Blueberry IS a fruit, you know.

Tales from the Spa: Pain is not Pleasure & Other Stories (Part 2)

Read the first part here.

3. Itchy, the new pretty?
I told my husband of this great idea I had to sample facial services of the different spa/wellness establishments in our neighborhood before committing to any one in particular.  Skintrends had a promo so I thought, what perfect timing!

It was my first time to try a glycolic peel, which is known for its exfoliating powers to reveal baby soft glowing skin.  When the therapist (in a spa-appropriate, soothing voice, to be fair) said to expect a stinging (not even tingling!?), itchy sensation, I kind of balked.  I am not from the "if it burns, it's working" school of thought, you see.  My good friend Barbie, who always chided me back in college for being a doormat, would not have approved and would probably have bopped me (lovingly) on the head for not clambering off that massage table and running away before anyone can say "face off".  Alas, I stayed put and hoped for the best.  It was itchy, all right, and the most uncomfortable facial I've ever had, but not searingly painful - that's a good thing, right?

Do you smell something burning?

Thankfully, my face didn't fall off or anything horrible (thank you, Jesus!), but I don't think I'll be subjecting myself to that again.  Frequent chemical peels can make the skin oversensitive and thinner in time, which is why facial therapists tell you to wear extra SPF after the procedure.  My freckles are already having a party every day, thank you very much.

By invite only.

4. Spa Plus is NOT a spa
While vacationing in Icheon, South Korea, J and I thought to visit the in-house spa at the Miranda Hotel, where we were billeted.  Actually, it was his idea, which impressed me greatly.  J didn't really enjoy spas and massages before, but thanks to my influence, he has since been hooked.  The Spa Plus looked promising and they even gave us a discount since we were guests at the hotel.

Spa Plus

I should have known something was up when the lady at the counter told us we'd have to use the men's and women's facilities separately.  We soldiered on, thinking, well, The Spa in Libis has wet floors for men and women too.  We discovered something that day - Spa Plus is a bath house!

Cool as a cucumber and with such grace that would've impressed the Queen herself, I quickly complied without so much as batting an eyelash (it helped that I was in a foreign country and knew I'd never see those people again *fingers crossed*).  I was also trying very hard not to laugh, thinking about J's reaction when he walked in on this surprise over on his side.

Because you can't "unsee" things

True enough, J ended up staying in a corner for a measly 10 minutes before he decided to end the trauma and go back to our hotel room.  I, on the other hand, got to try out 5 different hot springs and consequently made the most out of the KRW 14,000 (approximately Php 515) we paid for the two of us - bless my kuripot nature.

Can't wait for our next (real, and hopefully uneventful) spa trip!

Tales from the Spa: Pain is Not Pleasure & Other Stories (Part 1)

Isn't it such a wonderful treat to luxuriate in a glorious body massage after a tiring day?  To let the soothing atmosphere take all your worries away in a cloud of lavender and eucalyptus?  I think I've always been a spa junkie and looked forward to my appointments with appropriate gusto and giddiness.  Admittedly, I was anxious about the obvious concerns the first time I ever went to the spa.  What if I'm hopelessly ticklish and burst into uncontrollable laughter?  What if I pass gas and there's no one nearby I can pin it on?  I've obviously overcome these reservations, or have simply chosen to buck up, in the name of some pampering.

You pressed too hard.

What happens though when the trip to the spa doesn't turn out as well as you'd like?  There's going to be some sore complaining, apart from sore muscles, for sure!  I thought I'd go down memory lane and recount those less-than-stellar spa instances - because I can laugh about it now.

1. The test of endurance

My mother in law calls home service massage occasionally to relax and unwind.  My thoughtful husband once suggested we try them out instead of venturing outside and subjecting ourselves to Marcos Highway.  So okay, the call was made, the appointment was set.  The therapists arrived on time and remained jovial despite getting the fright of their lives when they saw Porkchop in the garage.

Jesus take the wheel.

Everything seemed promising and I was already mentally (and gleefully) rubbing my hands at the thought of regular massages in the comfort of our home.  Let's just say, it's never good to be greedy.  In the middle of my massage, when I felt the pressure to be too much for me, I asked the masseuse to ease up on the kneading - you know, which is the standard procedure and actually encouraged in these wellness establishments.  Her response confused me for a while.

Rough translation: Kindly endure.

Wait a minute.  I thought I was getting a relaxing massage!  Nobody said anything about enduring!  Is this karate kid conditioning?  A preparation for some sort of UFC throwdown? It suffices to say that that was the end of home massage.

2. Stop already lah!

During one of our team building activities, my Singaporean officemates decided to use our budget on a movie and foot massage.  In SG, people walk a lot and it's great to treat your tootsies to some TLC now and then.  I can't remember where we went exactly (I think Marina Square?) but I do remember the place was clean and looked harmless enough.  Little did I know, these resident foot therapists had some serious iron grips!  I guess I was expecting a girly foot massage (if there ever was one) - peppermint concoction slathered onto my weary feet, a dip in pleasantly warm and bubbly aromatic water, followed by gentle massage to improve circulation.  Instead, I got some hardcore acupressure that seriously left tears in my eyes.  You know how they say the foot is a miniature representation of our body and that certain parts of our foot correspond to different organs/body parts?

Source

Before this whole experience, I thought of myself as a generally healthy 20-something.  The afternoon I was subjected to this manhandling, I thought I needed another annual physical exam!

End the suffering.

(To be continued...)

The Wonders of Virtual Shopping & The Funky Rubber Shoe Incident

This news about Kobe Bryant suffering from a torn left Achilles is really sad.  In a heartfelt burst of emotional support and solidarity, my husband declared his desire to buy a pair of Kobe rubber shoes.  I suggested we ask my brother, who is in Singapore and, more importantly, a sneakerhead.  A couple of nights ago, Ahia and his fiancee Mimi went to the nearby mall to check out what's available.  They promptly sent me product shots via Line, while I was sitting on our living room couch, fiddling with my blog and watching back episodes of The Big Bang Theory.

I'm shopping, that's right.

I can shop 'til I drop with the best of them but when it comes to shopping for rubber shoes, I pretty much suck.  They all kind of look the same to me and my basis for choosing is usually color, which can also be tricky.

Score!

When Ahia sent me this picture, I quickly e-mailed it to J for him to choose - purple or yellow.

Does this not look like two different options?

Turns out, it's just one pair! Purple for the right foot, yellow for the left.  Who knew?!?  No wonder Ahia kept saying "you can't get any more Lakers-y than this"! 

Well, this pair was too avant garde for J so Ahia and Mimi will keep their eyes peeled for other options.  Thanks again to our SG-based shoppers!

All this blogging has given me a sudden hankering for Kobe chicken.

Hilarity, For Two

Two nights ago, J and I were having dinner at home, talking about how our respective days had gone. Earlier, while I was cooking rice, J had helped load the wash so we could be efficiently productive - doing laundry while eating!  Anyway, in the middle of our pleasant dinner conversation, our washing machine (which we named Splashy, for obvious reasons) played its usual tune, signaling the completion of the wash cycle.  As if it were the most natural thing in the world, we both stopped mid-conversation (and mid-eating) to do this:

Please excuse the wonky arms. I was trying for wavy.

For reference, the song that plays after a load sounds more like a kiddie ring tone than a catchy pop hit.  

I'd be lying if I said that was the first time we did our little jig.

That got me thinking about all the other little silly things we do, like have tongue twister contests that usually end up in side-splitting bouts of laughter.  Some of our more memorable materials include "one potato two potato" - a production company logo that appears after episodes of Masterchef - and our current favorite, "eat babi guling at ibu oka in ubud", which is a valid phrase with real meaning.  It's pretty challenging!

It must be from all his judo training in college, but J also has a habit of swooping in and carrying me unceremoniously, while I am in the middle of doing something (i.e. putting on moisturizer before getting ready to go to bed, texting) and then laughing at my resulting facial expression, which can only be described as my take on "bracing for impact".

Not pretty.

There was also that (thankfully) brief episode when J convinced me to put Veet (hair removal cream) on his legs, just for the heck of it.  He still tries his luck sometimes and asks me to do it again but I am putting my foot down.

There's got to be a better conversation starter.

Life can be dreary and much too serious sometimes, so I am very grateful for the fun and laughter that J injects into our life together (I'm not encouraging that carrying bit, though. Stop that).  There are great benefits to being silly sometimes, and being silly with someone you love? It's pretty awesome.

To the Female Youths*!

*as Schmidt would say.

Someone's got to say it.

I know it's unbearably hot and all, but there's just something wrong when your behind is hanging out fanning itself too!

There was news of an old lady back in Singapore who would whack young girls on their legs with a walking cane if they were wearing too revealing / barely there bottoms.  I don't know what happened to her (can you go to jail for that? Or get caned in the biggest irony of life?) and I'm not saying I'll start carrying around a cane here and continue her vision, but I do wonder, why would anyone let their daughters out wearing a denim panty??

End of rant! It's almost the weekend!

Facebook Indiscretions & Other What Were You Thinking Moments

Social media makes me nervous sometimes. It has such far-reaching powers that are equal parts amazing and terrifying. J and I took so long to get Facebook accounts because, frankly, we didn't think we needed to (I never had Friendster or My Space either).  Even now, I kind of get antsy over Privacy Settings because I'm uncomfortable with the idea of my photos being viewed by people I don't know from Adam. I do get slightly amused and very curious when other people post photos of their cleavage, backside, or any other body part that I think is not meant to be publicly displayed.  I guess if you have the body for it, why not right?  If I had the body of Miranda Kerr, I'd be walking around in a bikini.  But I also think, don't you have parents or relatives on FB? Officemates you'd like to still regard you professionally?

Was Trekkie Monster right all along??

Dr. Susan Krauss Whitbourne, Ph.D., a Psych professor at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, points out two driving forces behind creating and maintaining FB accounts: impression management vs. a desire to keep in touch with and stay connected to family and friends.  The former, she says, is most common among young, single women, while the latter involves older users (ouch!). Impression management, she says, is where most problems occur.  Read her full article here on Facebook exhibitionism.

We've all heard of horror stories where some naive person posts incriminating pictures on FB (or Twitter or IG) and gets robbed, or posts something and gets fired. Our online presence can be permanent and damaging if not tempered with common sense and a little bit of maturity.

Now excuse me while I delete all my embarrassing photos, snarky comments online.

On Elevators and Not-So-Common Courtesy

The other day, I was talking to my officemate Mae about elevators and the observations I've made based on my experiences with people on them.  I thought it would be fun making doodles, so here they are!

1. "Thank you" is always a good thing

Is it no longer common practice to say thank you when someone thoughtfully holds the elevator door for you? In our case, since our condo elevators are the fastest in the whole wide world (sarcasm), and all the residents know it, me holding the door for you means I saved you at least 5 to 10 minutes of waiting time. I'm not saying you should kiss my feet or invite me over for lunch but a simple "thank you" would be nice - just saying!

Shall I do this instead?

2. Help for my full hands

So I go to the nearby grocery, planning to buy a carton of milk and some bread. I come home with 3 full paper bags because it's always good to stock your home, people! Anyway, I say "12 please" to the guy standing nearest to the control panel and...nothing. I try again, this time being more precise - "please press the button marked 12" vs. "12 what? days of Christmas?", with better results. In the same way, I feel sorry whenever someone who obviously could use some help gets on the elevator and shimmies awkwardly to try and press their floor button. If I happen to be standing near the buttons, I normally ask "What floor?" but the truth is, 2 out of 5 times, I've been met with strange or blank looks. I'm not a stalker, okay? Just trying to be helpful. Maybe these are isolated cases but just the same - really?!

Ok, a bit of an exaggeration (my teeth aren't THAT strong), but you get the point.

3. No to collision

Ah, my favorite. The elevator doors open and there's a person, right smack in the middle, all up in yo' face! Why? Please tell me why you think it's a good idea to stand thisclose to the doors and scramble in hurriedly as soon as they open (is there something chasing you? are your pants on fire?). This phenomenon is also seen in train stations, as evidenced by Singapore's Kindness Movement and the existence of some independent, fed-up civilians.

I'm kidding.

4. Plus points for politeness

My husband makes it a habit to say "Good morning/afternoon" to anyone in the elevator when he gets on.  I can understand how this simple act can quickly change the atmosphere and improve it in spades.  Clearly, it's much more pleasant spending a few seconds/minutes in cramped spaces with a polite stranger than a sulky one.  I noticed that my neighbors who are foreigners (Hi, Jack!) are more inclined to do this greeting thing than residents who are Pinoy.  When I was still living in Singapore, saying hi/hello in elevators was very common too.  I even remember one Indian neighbor I had back in Serangoon who would always make small talk ("Nice shoes", "Beautiful weather", etc.) whenever we happen to take the elevator together in the morning.  Of course, this may be an unwelcome thing for some - especially for those who need a shot of coffee first to be a person - but I thought it was a friendly gesture.

Say hello. What's the worst that can happen, right?

If you find yourself about to use an elevator, make someone's day - say Good Day, hold the door, don't stand so close and breathe heavily!  I'm sure you'll make a good impression :-)

Happy Monday!

Manila Summer: That's Hot

This dastardly heat had better let up soon!  3 showers a day every day can't be sustainable, neither is eating ice cream by the gallon.  I am forever indebted to the genius who invented air conditioning (those nifty foldable fans are great too!).

Yes, I still accessorize despite the heat.

If all this sweating gets rid of my stored fat, I won't say another word.

Happy (sweaty) Sunday!

The Big Bag Theory

Yesterday, I spent a good 10 minutes of my morning convincing myself of the rewards of bringing smaller bags.  This, of course, was triggered by a very early and uncomfortable balancing act I had to perform on my way to work while clutching my big-ass tote bag, jacket (despite this awful heat, our office air conditioning is close to arctic), and laptop bag (containing the heaviest laptop on the planet).  Over the years, and largely because of sore shoulders, I've made attempts to whittle down my bag contents, leaving nothing but the essentials.  The problem is, everything in my bag now is essential to me...for a total of 5 kg. 

Many small things + more small things = very heavy bag

There's my wallet (gift from Ahia), a hair brush, my toiletry kit (gift from Chris) containing cologne, multivitamins, 6 tubes of lipstick (don't ask), 2 lip glosses, a small bottle of lotion, a mini White Flower, bag hook, foldable fan (gift from Mm), a little pouch with some hair accessories, oil control sheets, and USBs, my coin purse (gift from Aa), compact, my card holder, Rootote bag, another foldable eco bag in case I make an impromptu grocery run (gift from my former boss Victor), phone charger, some snacks (right now, snacks = 2 packs of Ovalteenies), another kit (won during a Cebu Pacific Bring Me game) containing my pen, notepad, tissue, wet wipes, toothpicks, emergency plastic bag (seemed like a good idea), spare ang pao (you never know), and a bunch of raffle coupons because I'm still hoping I win something.

During those few times I would venture out with just a clutch bag or a tiny cutesy purse, someone would ask me if I have tissue paper, or alcohol, or a fan, or toothpicks, or lotion.  "Sorry, it's in my other (much bigger) bag", I would say. Deep down, I would be aghast for not being prepared. Short of sounding like a wannabe girl scout, it makes me feel better knowing I have all my things with me, you know, just in case (aren't you glad I brought my mini sewing kit/nail groomer set?!).  I usually bring such big, cavernous bags that my husband shudders at the thought of getting in there and retrieving something, like a pair of keys or my phone.

Phone beeps

N: Hun, can you get my phone and see who texted?

J: Where is it?

N: In my bag

J: *groan*

Maybe tomorrow, I'll bring a small bag. 

Maybe.

Relax and Sleep: Easier Said than Done

There is this wonderful Android app called "Relax and Sleep" by Mizu Software Solutions that offers 35+ ambient sounds for you to fall asleep to!  Yes, I realize it is a little bit sad that I require external help to fall asleep.  I blame this on my very active mind!  Even when I was still living in Singapore, where there was clearly more walking and exercise involved, and would get home tired from work, I would still struggle at night and end up tossing and turning for hours on end *cry*.  Despite my body screaming "let me sleep!", my mind would traipse off on its own, refusing to let the Sandman in.  I was very tempted to buy osim's uMoments Portable Sound Therapy but I decided I wasn't willing to plonk down SGDs for that.  So for a while, I would play soothing rain / ocean sounds from YouTube before going to bed (resourceful huh!?) but the problem with this arrangement was, being very practical and stingy thrifty, I ended up staying wide awake since I would worry about the laptop shorting (granny thoughts?) from keeping the laptop on all night, etc etc.  Also, I think because of the fact that I knew my laptop was still on, my body was anticipating some sort of work or activity, which meant it refused to hunker down in preparation for sleep.

No wonder smart people suggest turning off all gadgets for a good night's sleep!

Then I discovered Relax and Sleep (there are so many apps for almost anything)! Heavy Rain or Ocean made me want to pee and Thunderclaps made me nervous (coming from a tropical country where flooding is common).  The Rainstorm + Crickets combo didn't make sense to me - I would think "with rain this strong, won't the crickets drown or get washed away?".  Finally, I found my magical melody: Rain Crickets!  I can even specify how long I want the sound to play (usually 20 minutes will do the trick) and then it fades out!  Hallelujah!

Acoustic guitar, thunderclaps, different types of frogs, monks chanting!, whale song, music box - so many choices!

After getting married, I found it easier to fall asleep beside my husband, since I associate relaxation, peace, and other happy thoughts with him (yihee).  I didn't need the app so much, but kept it on my phone anyway.  It still takes me a while to fall asleep but I am happy to say, less tossing and turning nowadays.  I'm sure my husband will have something to say if this is not the case!  Lucky for him, he falls asleep in like 5 seconds.  I'm so jealous!

How does he do it??

During the holy week, J had to go out of town for a climb and was gone for 5 days, during which I suffered poor sleep again after a long time.  I think my body was trying to stay alert, waiting for him to get home (even though my brain obviously knew he wasn't going to be home until a few days later...what sorcery is this!?).  This meant I would wake up feeling like I didn't get any sleep at all.  I only had the good sense to resume my dependence on Relax and Sleep during the latter part of my home alone stint.  Still, good to know I still respond positively to it!

This is a great app for those who find comfort in even the strangest things (Dishwasher Running? Fog Horn?...okay fine, no judgements!).  As for me, it's definitely going to be my savior again for the next time my husband goes off on another one of his mountain adventures.

See You at the Movies

Rest in peace, Roger Ebert.

He was once asked which movie he thought was shown on repeat in heaven and what he’d like to snack on calorie-free: “‘Citizen Kane’ and vanilla Haagen-Dazs ice cream.”

Source: Skimm, April 5

I hope you are enjoying yourself in the big multiplex in the sky.

Girly Products & The Bathroom Takeover

My husband casually mentioned one night how much bath products I have.  To set the record straight, and in a totally non-defensive way, I don't really spend hours in the shower, mindlessly wasting water & time.  I just really like glorious shower gels/bath soaps/body scrubs/any other wonderful smelling, prettily packaged girly product (my clear favorites: grapefruit or olive anythings!).  If they make your skin glow and soft like a baby's bottom, I'm all for it!  Although, okay, how many bath oils does one girl need, right?  This is what our shower shelves (are these called shelves??) look like at the moment...please don't look in the cabinet under the sink, a veritable store:

Fine. Maybe I need help.

This reminds me of a Big Bang Theory episode from Season 2.

I'm totally with you on this, Howard.

Sheldon Cooper: I don't see anything in here a woman would want. 
Howard Wolowitz: You're kidding! You've got lotions, and bath oils, and soaps. That's the estrogen hat trick! 
Sheldon Cooper: What it is is a cacophonous assault of eucalyptus, bayberry, cinnamon and vanilla. It's as if my head were trapped in the pajamas of a sultan. 

Source: http://the-big-bang-theory.com/gallery/picture/1255/

http://www.imdb.com/character/ch0072070/quotes

I can't help it, something just draws me to these darn things.  I'm walking around in a store and next thing I know, I'm opening bottles and sniffing and my basket is full (hey, I got a basket?).  I do thank my lucky stars I can get away with littering our bathroom counters with lotions and potions, all regularly used and subjected to military-like rotation.  Better this than drugs!

Happy sweet-smelling Sunday :-)