Stephanie Gayle

I think it was the very handsome boyfriend who gave me Deborah Rutledge's 1966 book, Natural Beauty Secrets: Being a Primer for the Enlightenment of the Fair Sex, consisting of historic Receipts (sic) for the Enhancement of their Natural Beauty, prepared and used in the Sanctuary of their Homes.
He knows I enjoy reading old school guides to beauty, manners, food, etc.

I thought I'd share some of these top secret recipes for beauty but then I came across this rather witty part on advice that the author read concerning brightening one's eyes: "'What girl does not know that eating lump sugar wet with cologne just before going out will make her eyes bright?' Well, this is one girl who didn't know it. I suppose it might possibly have been the effect of the alcohol in the cologne , but I wouldn't recommend it. As far as that goes, a few shots of liquor make your eyes bright, too, and it's a lot more fun."

Sing it, sister! Ms. Rutledge delights in repeating details of dubious beauty advice: lemon juice in your eyes, turpentine on your face, using tar in facial masks. Then she recommends that you don't try the aforementioned advice as she thinks it unsound. Using that formula (repeating bad advice and a recommendation not to follow it), I could write entire books on a series of subject matters.

For all the trumpeting of recipes that will soften your skin, fade your freckles and make your hair shiny, the author does make some well reasoned comments such as: "If the expensive commercial products really worked as miraculously as their advertisements claim, it stands to reason that all the female employees...with the various companies that get them out would be eternally youthful beauties. They aren't."

Ha! Now that's some practical beauty advice, for any time.

Posted by Stephanie at 08:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Check it out. I now have 25 billion dollars. That's right. Billion with a b.

See?

Only trouble is that the currency comes from Zimbabwe where inflation has rendered money worthless.
The Z$100bn note is not enough to buy a loaf of bread. People from Zimbabwe sell the currency to tourists as souvenirs. That way they get some value from the valueless bills.

But wait. It gets worse. Zimbabweans now have the lowest life expectancy in the world. Age 37 for men and age 34 for women.This is attributable to HIV/AIDS, economic collapse, and not-so-freely elected Robert Mugabe.

I have a 25 billion dollar bill and it's the saddest object I own.

Posted by Stephanie at 06:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Associated Press reported August 16th:

When Susan Kuhnhausen returned home from work one day earlier this month, she encountered an intruder wielding a claw hammer. After a struggle, the 51-year-old nurse fended off her attacker by strangling him with her bare hands.

Neighbors praised the woman for her bravery, and investigators said they believed the dead man — Edward Dalton Haffey — was burglarizing Kuhnhausen’s home.

But after an investigation, police now say the intruder Kuhnhausen strangled was apparently a hit man hired by her estranged husband — Michael James Kuhnhausen Sr. — to kill her.

End of story.

Holy hell, y'all. Women strangles intruder with bare hands. Then discovers intruder was hired by her husband to murder her? That's stuff I might not dare write, because it sounds...made up. Amazing. As for comeuppances, "the husband was taken into custody and charged with conspiracy to commit murder and attempted murder. He was ordered held on $500,000 bail."

But the best sentence of the story is this: "A large woman, she was eventually able to get the slight Haffey into a chokehold and police later found him dead in a hallway."

A large woman. Well, that explains her overpowering her "slight" murderously intentioned intruder. We should all be so large.

Posted by Stephanie at 06:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Hey ladies!
Did you notice something different this morning? Did you wake up feeling freer, perhaps?
Cuz today is Women's Equality Day!

August 26th is designated in the United States as Women's Equality Day. Instituted by Rep. Bella Abzug and first established in 1971, it commemorates the passage of the 19th Amendment, the Woman Suffrage Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, which gave women full voting rights in 1920.

Did you know this? Hell, the White House web page even has a wee letter by the president on the subject. Yeah, me neither.

So I came up with a chant to celebrate the proper spirit of the occassion.
"What do we want?"
"Women's Equality?"
"When do we want it?"
"On August 26th and August 26th only."

For 364 days a year I can worry about equal pay, the inequality of medical research into women's healh (hello heart disease!) and domestic violence. But today I can kick back and chillax since it's my special day.

Posted by Stephanie at 05:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I was in City Sports today, as all my athletic socks have gone the way of the dodo. They rearranged the store, so I was a bit confused by its layout. When I saw a display with what looked like computer mice I was confused. So I handled one of the packages. And then I realized I was holding a man's athletic cup. So I put it back. Those manufacturers need to rethink the way their merchandise (ha!) is shown.

Posted by Stephanie at 03:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Max Silvestri. Of Gabe and Max's Internet Thing.
I visited his web site: http://www.maxsilvestri.com and spent several minutes (hours) perusing his fine body...of work. I especially love the site's tag line which shows up on your browser. Not so safe for work.

What is it about funny guys? I've always maintained that a funny man is halfway home with me. What makes up the other half of the getting-with-Steph equation? Gin.

Here's just one more video to show why I like Max. It's in response to that awful true story of New York man who was trapped inside his office elevator for 48 hours.

http://video.236.com/services/link/bcpid1126121768/bctid1534517310

Enjoy, but not too much. He's my crush. Go find your own.

Posted by Stephanie at 07:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I decided to self-check at Shaw's this evening. But because I know the machine freaks out after I've 'skipped bagging' six items I decided to bag my two produce items (bananas and an orange pepper). Though why they can't program the machines to let me 'skip bagging' all the time I don't understand. I'm just trying to save the planet by using my awesome reusable, organic, Mother Nature-approved Envirosax bag!

My tool against global destruction.

Ahem. So I grabbed my red bag and strode out the automatic door only to realize I'd left the plastic bag with my produce behind. So I turn around, walk back the twelve steps to my check-out machine (where no one had arrived during my absence to check out) and the bag is gone. I'm staring at where it was and it's not there. I was gone from it maybe 20 seconds. W.T. Fuck?

So I tell an employee I'm looking for a bag I just left behind and he goes to a cart filled with several bags. "Bananas?" He holds it up. This bag has about three dozen bananas. I told him that was way more than I bought. He directs me to another employee stationed a few feet away. She reaches under her dais and pulls out a bag and I watch as she stuffs my pepper back into the bag.

Huh? Why was my pepper outside the bag? I'd only been gone 20 seconds. Were they planning to return it to the produce section? Did I interrupt her plans to snack on my salad fixing? I guess I'll never know.
Maybe next time I'll just make the machine choke on my 'skip bagging' demands. That's fun.

Posted by Stephanie at 06:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

for not writing down my 2:30 a.m. idea the other night. But I was sleepy and lazy and I thought,"I'll probably remember this tomorrow." Despite knowing that it was unlikely. Damn me! I can remember much of the first two sentences but not whatever nascent thought provided the twist to the story. I feel that such a twist existed, but what was it? Fuckity fuck fuck. I cannot remember.

Next time I am hauling my ass out of bed at 2:30 a.m. Because I hate this feeling.

Posted by Stephanie at 07:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I don't much like New Year's Eve. It's cold, it's late, it's often crowded. So I stay home. And I don't make resolutions. Yeah, I'm a real rebel that way. As I was walking past the prematurely-turning tree that adorns MIT's campus (its leaves turn orange every August) I realized that for me New Year's starts in September. Back to school starts the calendar cycle anew. Working at a university helps keep me in line with that particular calendar. But it also helps that fall is my favorite season. It's damn lovely, the weather is comfortable and except for that inevitable decline into darkness and cold, it's swell.

Plus autumn brings us the jackets and coats. Which bring me to the below-pictured Valory jacket by Rock and Republic.

I have one word for this jacket: WANT!

Which brings me to part two (everything above this sentence was part one--surprise!) School is starting for many children in late August this year. The hell?! How are those children supposed to wear their newly bought school duds (of itchy wool) in late August? Wearing it in early September is also an issue but August? That's just cruel. On behalf of kids everywhere excited to wear their new thigh high boots (Why are you looking at me like that? They were awesome boots!) to school, I must protest. School in late August is wrong. Besides, there's no way I'm going to be able to scrape up the cash for that beautiful jacket by next week. Nope. I think I need a sponsor.

Posted by Stephanie at 08:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

It's done! Done. Done, done, done.
The manuscript is edited, printed and on its way to my agent.
Thank god!
It's Tuesday, right? My sense of time is a little off. Not being at day job does that to me as does having lived in 1978 for the past week (mentally--no, I haven't invented a time machine. Yet.)

How am I celebrating you ask?
I bought a bunch of books, including A Wrinkle in Time, as I don't know where my childhood copy is at. I am bummed that the cover is totally different and not as good.
I ate a delicious sandwich from Cardullo's in Harvard Square. I ate a yummy (and expensive) chocolate bar from the same place.
I took a nap.
I'm listening to Pavarotti sing. Man has pipes! He's good for occasions. Plus I realized opera is anathema to teenage boys, so it's also payback to the teenager downstairs who's woken me early every day for the past week. Take that, kid! A little "Nessun Dorma" just for you.
And later I plan to watch an MST3K video.

Wild and crazy, that's how I roll.

Posted by Stephanie at 05:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm a desk jockey by day so sitting at a computer typing? All in a day's work. However the past three days and today have been writing days. No day job. Technically I am on vacation. Hahahahahahahahaha. Sorry, I had a moment there. All better! Um, so I've been sitting at my desk at home and writing, editing, rewriting, etc. At the end of the day I run out of words. The other night I was desperately trying to think of the word sommelier but not only could I not think of it, I couldn't think of the words I'd need to describe it like "wine" or "restaurant."

The good news is that I am blasting my way through book two. The bad news is I might not be able to speak at the end of this little project. Perhaps I should work on my Charades pantomime skills.

Posted by Stephanie at 01:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I love cake. I have a sweet tooth the size of Alaska, so no surprises there, but in the dessert hierarchy I rate cakes first. Cakes above cookies, pies, ice cream, tarts, and whatever other sweet confections you might bring my way. I quite enjoy baking them, though I admit I've never been stellar in the decorating department. I've never tried to make fondant or learn to make intricate shapes with a pastry tube. As long as it tastes delicious, it can look less than perfect

However, when professionals create cakes that look half-assed?
Whole other story.

And that's why Cake Wrecks is my new favorite blog to visit. Showcasing the worst of all that the cake professionals have to offer, it combines my love of cake with my love of snide.

Would you eat this cake?

Posted by Stephanie at 10:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I moved all my bedroom furniture around this weekend. Except for dropping a very heavy bookcase on my foot it went well. My desk is now between two windows. In moving my bed I found half a dozen lost vitamins and bear-sized dust balls and one or two dropped pens. I expected more lost detritus. Oh, there was that hideous semi-boot I wore when I broke my toe. That was wedged under my desk. I had a notion I might need it again someday. Um, no. Yucky.

So now when I'm approaching my room everything looks different. I can't see my bed. There's a straighter path from the door to the window. Things feel newer, fresher. I like it. In fact, I used to move my furniture a lot. Every few months or so it seemed. When that book, Eva Moves the Furniture, first came out I thought it was about a woman who rearranged furniture a lot. It isn't.

What has this to do with writing? Perspective. When you see things from a different place you might still see the same things but they look as though they've changed or you're viewing them from a previously unexplored angle. When I'm writing a character I see things through their eyes. Sometimes I have trouble getting their perspective. So I'll think about their life and what would likely or not be their perspective or sometimes I'll decide to nix their perspective. I did that in book two. I was having a great deal of trouble with a certain character's motivation. Then I decided that the character in question shouldn't have much of his perspective shared because it would make certain questions too easily answered. So I pulled back, away from his view.

It's an interesting exercise to write a scene in your story, book, diary, whatever, from the perspective of a stranger idly watching your characters through a store front or inside a movie theater. Outsiders have different insights. Not surprisingly, I make up stories about the people around me (though not as often as you'd think as I'm too busy imagining the lives of the imagined, not the real). It's fun to imagine what other people are up to, right? And that in itself is a new perspective, which can be gained with a whole lot less pain and sweat than moving every piece of furniture in your room.

Posted by Stephanie at 03:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)