Cleaning Naturally — A Review of #Earth Brite

EarthBriteFlipping though the stations, this product caught my eye on HSN — ShopHQ, as it’s now called. A little name change, a branding re-do — to confuse the armchair consumer and blur the lines with another shopping network, QVC. Is that playing fair? What do you think? I’m not sure how I feel about it, or if I even really care — but as a marketing professional, I’m always fascinated by branding and new directions in marketing from an established company.

I don’t often purchase from these TV shopping shows: first and foremost, I’m a natural skeptic, and unless it’s a VERY GOOD DEAL like the Canon Rebel camera (that I’m impatiently waiting for),  I normally bypass this method of shopping as I’m a touchy-feely kinda gal; I want to see it, touch it, smell it–before I buy it.

However, on this day, two very excited and animated hosts were scrubbing and smiling, telling me all about how Earth Brite’s natural, clay-based all-purpose product cleans, polishes, and protects everything from silverware to tile to boats and RVs, while the XR51 degreaser helps remove grease and grime.

Intrigued by the spiel; I thought I’d spend twenty dollars to test it out myself. I checked out the product information online and this is what I learned:

Earth Brite’s natural, clay-based all-purpose product cleans, polishes and protects everything from silverware to tile to boats and RVs, while the XR51 degreaser helps remove grease and grime.

When it arrived, I put on my trusty yellow rubber gloves to see first-hand if those claims are true.

  • I used it instead of Comet on my porcelain sink. Earth Brite did indeed work, but I had to scrub a lot harder to get the same results.
  • In the bathroom, I scrubbed the shower floor and glass doors, which is a big test here in SoCal where we have SUCH hard water that it sometimes takes a chisel to get the shower clean. The results were OK but not “earth” shatteringly better than plain vinegar or any of the other array of products I have around Casa de Enchanted Seashells.
  • The final test was an old Revere copper-bottomed saucepan. Again, Earth Brite shined and polished the copper, but with additional elbow grease, and it wasn’t as easy to shine as the TV hosts told me it would be.

Not a spectacular shine, right?earthbritepan

Product Review:
In the final analysis, I was hoping that this all-natural product would replace most or all of my chemical-laden cleaning supplies, and it has not done that. I’m happy that it contains ingredients that are healthier for my family and for the environment, but I was disappointed that it did not live up to the live on-air demonstrations that initially compelled me to make the purchase. However, the companion product, XR51 Power Cleaner & Degreaser Concentrate turned out to be a wonderful surprise and it’s become part of my daily cleaning — and it smells great, too.


Here’s What I Received:

  • (2) 10.5 oz. Earth Brite All Purpose Cleaner
  • 2 Round applicator sponges
  • 8 fl. oz. XR51 Power Cleaner & Degreaser Concentrate

What The Website Wants You to Know:

  • Work All Purpose Cleaner into wet applicator sponge before applying to any surface. Failureto thoroughly wet product may result in scratched surfaces.
  • Always use the application sponges included.
  • Apply light pressure and increase pressure only as needed to clean surface.
  • Rinse thoroughly to avoid possible clay residue after cleaning.
  • After each use, let the All Purpose Cleaner paste dry before closing the container.

My Fresh Obsesh

Blog Update: I don’t know what’s happening to me! If you’ve been following the life of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife for a while you might have noticed a sea change, a slight course correction, a freshening breeze.

It’s become increasingly more difficult – impossible even – to suppress the other seashells that insist upon rising to the surface…more than frivolous pursuits; pearls and Chanel, Hello Kitty and retail therapy, more than waiting for my sometimes-he’s here-sometimes-he’s-not tugboat man to come home.

The real world has rudely barged in and is guilty of disrupting Princess Rosebud’s rose-colored glasses form of reality, in spite of all the vigorous denial of that river in Egypt.

I’d much rather write about my seashell gluing and sewing projects, the search for that perfect shoe, or any of my seemingly neverending encounters with bad drivers and crappy customer service – but when animals are being abused, neglected, abandoned, slaughtered, unloved, or species threatened with extinction — it’s impossible to ignore.

My one small voice in concert with many will hopefully become a roar loud enough to effect positive change.

At least we have to try, right?

**This is a warning of sorts. You’ll be subjected to more posts that will be calls to action to raise awareness about animal related issues, defending these magnificent creatures, and providing them with the voices they lack. It seems like I should change the title of my blog to be Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife and Beeyotchy Animal Advocate-- or, too much?

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But that’s not today’s topic. Today is all Princess Rosebud in her shopping glory!

If you’ve been keeping up with the saga of my quest for the perfect wedge. here’s an update:

I’m in holding pattern. I’m not actively searching anymore; I’ve exhausted all of my resources. I’ve looked far and wide up to Orange County and have experienced disappointment at every turn. I’ve made the majorest of decisions to leave it all up to Mother Universe — when she’s ready and the time is right, she will place the ultimate shoe in front of me — and I need to stop stressing about it.

There. I’ve given it up to a higher power.

Edging out the wedge (ha ha) of Number One priority status is my new (obesh) obsession to find the perfect black suit — pencil skirt and jacket  – for my public speaking event at a hearing in Sacramento on October 2 with Defenders of Wildlife.

Normally, I don’t travel alone. I don’t like to fly, I don’t like airports, I don’t like crowds, and I don’t like taking my shoes off in potentially germ-ridden places. I’ve only flown alone a few times; to visit my tugboat man in Hawaii before we were married, and to visit my son at Yale. Going to Sacramento alone is a major deal for me.

I’m not afraid of the public speaking part of this; I don’t suffer from glossophobia – I’m afraid mostly of driving to the airport, finding a place to park my car, getting from the airport to the hotel; those kinds of things.

So it makes sense that a new outfit to boost my confidence is just what I need, amIright?

A pencil skirt can enhance one’s shape or detract from it in a most unflattering way.

A three-way mirror is a harsh critic but very necessary, especially since I’ll be standing at a podium, facing the panel, but I can’t forget about the audience behind me. They’ll have the rear view.

A good fit is priceless.

That’s my logic for probably spending way too much money. I’m depending upon this suit to speak volumes to my audience and maybe even the media. Call me a media whore, no really, call me a media whore and I’ll answer you. I’m not ashamed of it, I’ve been known to whore myself out for a few precious moments of video, as long as my makeup and hair look good and my butt looks small. Well, smallish.

My Monday retail therapy pilgrimage brought me once again to White House Black Market. They have a pretty good selection of sizes for my five-foot-tall frame. Yes, I’m a Size Two and sometimes a Zero, but I’m a FAT Two. Really, there is such a thing. I’m small but solidly built. That’s what a zillion years of ballet and training with weights’ll do.

Black suit1I was lucky; I got a lovely skirt and jacket that look professional and will travel nicely. The jacket has a half-belted back that looks great and accentuates my waist. The three-quarter length sleeve is perfect for my short arms; this way it won’t have to be taken to the tailor.

I paired it with a deep charcoal gray shell; the only jewelry a simple strand of pearls and pearl earrings, along with platform patent leather heels. And of course, my Chanel Grand Shopper Tote, ‘cos that’s the ONLY Chanel I have…for the moment.

Being so short, I’ve found that I need to dress in a severe manner if I want anyone to take me seriously; I tend to still have a “little girl” look even though now it’s a wrinkled and Botoxed affect. Ah well, aging…

These selfies don’t really do justice to the deep black; I must have a lighting issue. And they’re neck down ‘cos I’m scary with no makeup.

Since my mean and non-existent-for-the-moment tugboat man has FORBIDDEN me to get a new smaller Chanel to supplant my courage, this suit will have to do it all — carry the day.

Although…he’s NOT the boss of me (I tell him that all the time) and he CAN’T tell me what to do, ‘cos I always do the OPPOSITE.

blacksuitopenWAIT!

Hold that thought for a minute.

Let’s analyze what he said.

HE KNOWS THIS. He knows that I’m contrary and normally do the exact opposite of mostly everything he suggests. (Example: my broken wrist. He told me not to run up the hill in slippery flipflops ‘cos I might fall and I did it anyway…fell, wrist broken. Read about that here.)

MAYBE the reason why he said I couldn’t get a new handbag is FOR THE SIMPLE REASON THAT HE WANTS ME TO GET ONE!

YES! That’s IT.  Reverse psychology!

Problem solved.

Looks like I need to do a bit more shopping, don’t you agree?

Hee hee.

De-tri-tus

Definition: waste or debris of any kind.

It’s a fact that our individual personas embody a plethora of idiosyncrasies, quirks.

Anima is the source of the female part of personality and animus is the source of the male part.

Anima is Carl Jung‘s term for the inner part of the personality or character, as opposed to the persona or outer part.

Facets.

Diamonds.

Yin and yang.

And then there’s me…

I don’t know if it’s a male/female thing, but I’ve got two powerful forces inside me that fight it out on a regular basis.

Side One: Clean freak. A coaster under every cup. Sparkling windows. Pristine bleached tile and grout. Yes, you CAN eat off my floors.

Side Two: Packrat. Bubble wrap saver, Box hoarder. Receipts from 1985 to present.

Regarding old bills and receipts,  I’m not sure if the rule is to keep them for seven years or ten years, so I’ve settled on forever, just to be safe.

Once a year, I roll up my sleeves, gird my loins, and purge the office of all the detritus that I can bear to throw out.

…Empty WinFax box from 1997…Keep or toss?
…Receipt from a chair purchased in 1985 we no longer have. Keep or toss?
…Wrinkled and then refolded tissue paper from a thousand birthdays and holidays. Keep or toss?

Here’s a wonderful elliptical that shares space in my multi-use office, sewing/crafting room – what a mess.

office10

Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

I threw most of the boxes away and all of the decades old wrapping paper. I saved the bubble wrap; I HAD to, ‘cos well, you never know when you’ll need it, right?

It was painful, but I feel cleansed.

office9

Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

Boxes and boxes of old phones boxes. Just empty boxes. Gone.

office

Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

Nice neat books and financial documents.
Well, mostly nice and neat, definitely better than they were.
Look closely and you’ll see all of Emily Giffen’s books. I love her!

office7

Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

All my crafting supplies nicely organized.

office3

Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

Seashells, seashells, and rocks.

office4

Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

Every office needs a sofa, right? 

office5

Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

The view.

office1

Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

And finally, this is where the magic happens, my workspace, with a pretty little MacAir, ginger tea, and hand sanitizer.

 ***Notice how the dinosaur computer is a wonderful canvas for notes and pictures.

You didn’t think I’d be able to throw everything away, did you?
That’s something I’ll put off ’til next year, or the year after.

There’s no hurry; I’m sure I’ll have a brand new collection of empty boxes by then.

officespace

Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife.

One last thing…my Retin-A ; save or toss? If I cut it open, I can probably scrape out the very last bit. We wouldn’t want to waste any of it, right?

What do you think?

offices

Photo property of Enchanted Seashells, Confessions of a Tugboat Captain’s Wife

POETRY: Ebb and Flow

serene-ocean-and-vast-horizon-under-cloudy-skyWith my tugboat man so far away somewhere in the vast, vast ocean, I’ve been reading a publication my son sent to the tugboat man as a birthday gift.

Lapham’s Quarterly / Volume VI / Number 3 / Summer 2013

Title: Sea Change
“Standing on shore, we struggle to understand its fury; Lewis Lapham explores the mystery and power of the sea.”

It’s a lovely publication; a compilation of sea stories, excerpts, and poems from Homer to Melville to Marquez to Conrad.

I discovered the beauty of this poem and yeah, I’m missing that big tugboat guy just a bit.

Ebb and Flow

 

My Husband is a Small Blue Triangle

I’m always asked what it’s like to be the wife of a professional mariner whose career takes him away from home for long periods of time.

  • Being alone. Yes, there’s that, for sure. I write a lot about what I do when he’s gone…retail therapy is #1 on my list.
  • Communication. Better now with email and a phone call whenever he’s near a cell tower or uses the satellite phone.

However, one of the perks that all you non-mariner spouses don’t have is the ability I possess to stalk track know where he’s at 24/7.

Like most vessels, his tug’s equipped with GPS.

I’m a click away from watching his progress around the clock, pretty much up to the minute in real-time.

It’s not like I can actually SEE him or anything, but I have a warm spot in my heart for the little blue triangle that represents his tug.

I can see his how fast he’s going, too. Right now it’s about ten knots.

He can run, but he can’t hide.

Wave to my tugboat man, y’all!

My husband is a blue triangle

When The Tugboat Man’s Away, Princess Rosebud Will Play…Err…Shop

Yes, I’m referring once again to retail therapy, the practice and art of fervently slapping down the old plastic on the counter — because I’m still searching for the perfect wedge and –just becuz. Who says you need a reason?

And because it’s prolly time for a less than totes cray rant about not killing animals, am I right?

Deep breath — keeping it light and fluffy, shopping is the perfect antidote to crazytime.

After Pilates, I scurried down the road to Nordstrom Outlet in San Marcos. It’s as if my car knew the way without any direction from me.

And yay for me! I came close to finding that elusive perfect wedge. Very close. 
And check out that silly Chanel photo bomb. Always trying to upstage everyone!
(Nord 
obvs designed the bag for me, “shopping genius”.  I mean, “Duh”. Look how the arrow points directly to moi.)

nordstrom bag

BTW, don’t you HATE it when stores change the layout that you have come to rely on, to trust?

I SO do, and I was a bit discombobulated when I walked into Nord and discovered that the jewelry had moved, the workout clothes weren’t where they should have been –but thank goodness, SHOES stayed solid and safe –aisles and aisles, rows upon rows — of wedges, heels, flats — repeat it like a mantra–wedges, heels, flats. Sigh…

Nordstrom shoe aisle

I have a certain modus operandi upon entering this store. I want to go to the shoes soooo bad, but I force myself to take a circuitous route to have a little delayed gratification.

Lots and lots of jewelry and sparkly stuff, but nothing caught my eye.

On to the scarves and I found two that needed to come home with me. Coincidentally, they both feature a butterfly motif. Too cute!

butterflyscarf2

butterflyscarf

I could wait no longer. Pushing a couple of little kids out of the way (shouldn’t they all be in school by now??) I immediately grabbed about four pairs of shoes and tried them on.

Just like Goldilocks, it was a no to all of them but these sweet little Cole Haan strappy platform wood wedges. Cole Haan always has the greatest fit, light as a feather, and the  zipper is totes adorbs, don’t you agree? They’re fire engine red (pic came out a bit light) and CLOSE to achieving perfection, but not quite there. The wedge is wood, not cork, but the comfort factor makes up for that little problem. They were a bit pricey even at the outlet — originally  $228.00, on sale for $119.00. I think I’ll wear them a lot with skinny jeans or maybe I’ll take them back, I always leave that option open.

Cole Haan wedgesThe two new scarves will join my huge collection of scarves.

I fold all of the silk ones.
They have their own special chest of drawers.

scarf drawer collection

Hanging scarves is a great way to display them, too.
My tugboat man doesn’t think so,
but his opinion doesn’t really count, ya know what I’m sayin’?.

scarf hanging collection

Going on a Dump Date

More accurately, a date AT the dump, but I thought that title had more caché…was catchier.

My mostly-he’s-gone Tugboat Man started a project the minute he got home on July 4.

He decided to tear apart our deck. Why? He said it was termite-damaged, falling apart, the wood was rotting. I didn’t think it was such a catastrophe; it looked fine to me.

Hubs decided he needed a consultation.

My son’s dad is a friend — yes, I said FRIEND — and a master builder as well.

He came over to visit my tugboat man right after his return.

Yup, you heard me right. He CAME OVER TO VISIT. The two of them poked and prodded at the deck like a couple of doctors agonizing over a diagnosis – and came to the conclusion that surgery was imminent.

He offered to come back and help re-build the engawa (an exterior hallway on the side of a traditional Japanese house), a walkway that parallels the entire back of our house — after this deck project. Joy.

Here’s Captain Destroyer doing what he does best. Destroy.

deck1

Now I can’t even walk outside, I have to go out the front door and walk all the way around to the back gate to work in the garden.

deck2

Lotsa redwood. Lotsa $$$$.

He’s totally on my very last nerve with this thing.

He’s been sanding and sanding and sanding — FOR DAYS.

The windows are filthy even though the sander has an attached bag to catch the sawdust.

It’s not 100% foolproof. Obviously.

Thank goodness he’s almost finished.

Why do guys do this crap anyway? Can anyone enlighten me? Anyone???

Today the highlight of our day was a romantic outing to the Carlsbad dump to offload the trailer of all the old termite infested and rotten wood.

Why did I go, you ask?

Well, for some strange reason, I love to go to the dump, sit in the car while hubs does all the work, and read a book. It’s just a time to be together, and reminds me when we were in Hawaii driving all over Oahu on the Kamehameha Highway from surf spot to surf spot.

Good times.

I think hubs enjoys the company; I can chatter away about nothing and everything for hours on end (I’m a good travel/driving companion for that reason, too) and it’s turned into a “date event” for us.

Weird. I know.

Today was the dump date from hell, tho.

We arrived at 11:15 a.m. Got weighed and paid at 11:35 a.m. At that point, we noticed the huge line of cars and trucks and garbage trucks lined up and stopped. As in not moving. This has never happened before. Usually if you go to the dump during the week, the whole process moves along fairly rapidly. But we were stuck. It was hot; it smelled like, well, like garbage, and I stared feeling nauseous. At 12:35 p.m. we were next in line to be directed to a the offloading site. Then, the guy who was in charge pointed to the truck next to us to move forward. He hadn’t been waiting nearly as long as we had and I was THIS CLOSE to jumping out of the car to start screaming but my tugboat man got it all straightened out before a major incident erupted. Thank goodness for his calm demeanor. I guess that’s why opposites attract, huh?

While hubs threw about 2,000 pounds of unusable wood into a pile, I got on my cell and started calling around to complain about the nightmare of a long wait we just endured. I complained about their lack of time management and their inefficiency and the general hell of it all to anyone that would listen. No one much cared, that’s the major takeaway I got from my futile efforts.

We got home at 1:15 p.m. The dumb dump is only about three miles away from our house, so we didn’t do a lot of driving. It took exactly two hours to accomplish what should have taken no more than thirty to forty minutes.

My dump date bliss was really scarred by that horrible event.  I’m not sure I ever want to go back. Poor me.

Job almost done. New redwood deck, freshly oiled.
All he needs to is install the seating, screw them down, and we can PARTY!

New deck

Hermès and a Wind Rose; The Cosmic Connection

Before there was…
logo-hermes-paris

There was…
hermespic

  • Hermès was the son of Maia and Zeus
  • He was the messenger of the gods and the god of merchants, travelers, and public speakers.
  • He was one of the twelve Olympian gods who resided on the summit of Mount Olympus.
  • His caduceus helped Hermès charm the gods and gain access to all locations.
  • Hermès was the only god who was authorized to visit Heaven, Earth and the Underworld.
  • He was often depicted ready for travel and wore a flat hat called a petasus.

compass-wind-rose-17937547Wind Rose

  • Used by mariners, a wind rose is a diagram that summarizes information about the wind at a particular location over a specified time period.
  • Before the use of magnetic compasses, a wind rose was a guide on mariners’ charts to show the directions of the eight principal winds.
  • The modern wind rose used by meteorologists gives the percentage of the time the wind blows from each direction during the observation period; it sometimes shows the strengths of these winds and the percentage of the time calm air or light winds are observed.
  • This wind rose usually has eight radiating lines whose lengths are proportional to wind frequency and shows wind strength by the thickness of the lines or by feathers attached to them.
  • The earliest-known wind roses appeared on navigation charts used in the thirteenth century by Italian and Spanish sailors.

Hermès + Wind Rose = a meant-to-be gift for ME.
A cosmic convergence of two worlds.

For a guy who once balked at paying fifty dollars for a bottle of Estee Lauder Pleasures perfume for our very first Christmas together, my tugboat man has surely mastered the art of generous gift giving.

Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?

Our last couple of days zoomed by in a blur. Hub’s company called on Monday to ask him if he would relieve a captain who had to be flown home for a health-related reason.

He flew out Wednesday morning. Yet another seventy-five mile round-trip to the airport for me…

I’ve been talking nagging him about getting an Hermès scarf ever since I  bought my son an Hermès tie for his graduation last year. (The story of the Hermès tie will be highlighted in a future post.)

I really didn’t want my tugboat man to use up his last day at home by going shopping, but he twisted my arm.

He said the scarf was supposed to be a gift for my birthday but we never found the time to go to South Coast Plaza in Orange County or Fashion Valley in San Diego.

We were close to SCP when we hiked Crystal Cove although I didn’t want to experience the wonderfulness of Hermès in dusty hiking boots. That’s totes understandable, right?

So I finally acquiesced under the barrage of his relentless and persuasive arguments and gracefully allowed him the joy of making me happy.

Um, I mean, who am I to deny him that pleasure?

What can I say? I’m a spoiled beeyotch, I know, I know. But every girl needs at least one Hermes scarf to call her own. It’s true. I read that somewhere, I know I did…

Did you know that a postal worker from Texas designs some of the scarves from Hermès?My son, who possesses a vast store of knowledge about almost everything, heard about it on NPR, “How A Texas Postman Became An Hermès Designer” (click on the title to read the article.)

We asked the sales staff to pull out and display every scarf in the case. My hubs exhibited an inordinately high level of patience with me while I pondered each and every scarf; draping each and every one over my shoulder, gazing upon my reflection in the mirror.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who’s the fairest of them all?”

They were all beautiful and colorful and quirky — but not for me — not the one with sailboats nor the ones with horses and polo ponies nor the Native American themes (designed by the postal worker.)

I have high praise for the sales staff. They seemed to enjoy my shopping experience as much as we I did.

None spoke to me until I saw the scarf entitled  “La Rose des Vents”.

It was a Wind Rose!

I turned to my tugboat man with shining eyes, “Isn’t this just the most perfect thing you’ve ever seen? It’s meant to be, right?”

“If you love it, I love it”, replied my perfectly trained and word-sparing husband.

Not just because it’s an ÜBER fashion house — even more profound, it’s a celebration of the beauty of a mariner’s world.

I must admit I became a bit teary-eyed at that moment, but not enough so that tears spilled over and damaged the delicate silk.

Back to the business at hand…

Navy red, brown

Navy red, brown

There were two color palettes from which to choose.
This one…or one with blues, pinks, greens, and yellows.

Which do you think I picked?

Join me as I fulfill another retail shopping dream…

HermesONE

My tugboat man takes the absolute worst pictures.
He refuses to use the zoom or focus.

Hermes2

I think I’m totally rocking the polka dot sweater from Target, don’t you?
It sooo sets off the orange Hermès bag.
If you look really hard, you can see that I need to get my roots done ASAP.
Do you see that tell-tale line of gray hair?
Too funny the way the sun reflects off it, right?

Hermes1

Now we’re home to prepare for the unveiling.
Yes, all the chairs in our dining room are covered in animal print. 

hermes4

Look at the box. Just look at it! All wrapped up with a logo ribbon. Sigh.

hermes5

I’m in heaven.
Is this the one you thought I would choose?

hermes6

Beautiful, beautiful silk.
And what’s this? It’s a wind rose!!!
“La Rose des Vents”
The Rose of the Winds.
Amazing, right?

hermes9

Do you see why I had to have it?
It’s maritime-related, and even better, “Rose” is part of my real-life name,
not just my nom de plume, Princess Rosebud.

hermes7

The colors are vibrant and amazing.
The silk feels like flower petals.

hermes8

It’s way more gorgeous in person.
The photos don’t do her justice, and I really need to iron the folds.

hermes10Way to go, my tugboat man, to once again make me feel like a real princess.
I hope you have calm winds, fair weather, and come home safe and soon.
xoxo

princess tiara

Step into my boudoir…

Not really, but welcome to our living room.

I penned a haiku to celebrate my day of cleaning in preparation for Tugboat Man and Angel Boy later this week:

White shirts softly worn

Lemony-scented polish

Teak oak walnut shine

This is what I was doing on Sunday. ALL day.

I took every single item off every single shelf and cleaned each and every one of them.

That included all the pictures on the piano.

In case you’re wondering, not everything was acquired by me–a lot of what I have was given to me by my mom and by my tugboat man from his travels around the world.

And then I put everything back.

It was all very Zen and quiet and lovely.

Finally, I polished the furniture and vacuumed.

I like to work from the top down. Makes sense, doesn’t it?

I’ll save the rug shampooing ’til the end of summer when it’s really hot.

shelf5 shelf6 shelf4 shelf3 shelf2 shelf shelf7 hawaiipic piano

I am SUCH a loser — sad, but true…

I met four lovely ladies from Generation Fabulous for lunch at Bellefleur in Carlsbad.

It’s located in the Carlsbad Premium Outlets with some of my fave shops like Barneys, Banana Republic, and BCBG.

This was my very first meet-up in the flesh with any of the smart and witty blogger/writers I’ve been reading since I started this blog last June. It was kinda like JDate, Jewish Mingle, Match.com, and EHarmony all-in-one.

What if they didn’t like me? What if I slopped food all over, got spinach in my teeth, or said something stupid? I’ve been known to do all of those things at one time or another…

Me, being me  – Princess Rosebud, that is — spent a long time contemplating, deliberating, and meditating — to conjure up the perfect emsemble for this momentous event.

It’s what I do, I say as I shrug my shoulders. It’s what I do.

Similar to building an outstanding five paragraph essay — only the body of the essay is the dress, skirt, skinny jeans along with a shirt or blouse, coordinated with a blazer, sweater or coat, bringing it all together in that final paragraph with shoes, jewelry, scarf, and handbag.(Always Chanel, or course)

Like thisgenfablunchoutfitwhiteskinny

Here’s a picture of the five of us

GenFabLunch1We’re having a lovely time, getting to know each other, and they were swapping stories about bloggy type conventions and gatherings, their multiple books written, sponsorships, advertising, public speaking engagements — and I’m listening intently but not sharing anything.

Why, you ask? Why?

Because I have nothing to share. Nada. Zip. Zippo.

I haven’t accomplished a single, solitary thing with my blog.

There was a lull in the conversation and I said in a small voice,

“I shop. I like to go shopping.”

I felt like such a LOSER wondering what the heck I’m doing with these talented and entrepreneurial women. Being color coordinated was the only skill I brought to the table (literally). Oh, and the genius ability to walk in five-inch heels and not fall down.

I don’t have an eBook — not even one — or an old school paper book, or affiliate advertising, or free tickets to movies and screenings — although I recently posted a review of “I Just Want to Pee Alone”.

Not only do I not know where to start, I don’t have the huge numbers of clicks or impressions or readers or followers. Sigh.

I think I came too late to the game of blogging to get a piece of the pie.

ICBL FINAL 2_2

Don’t get me wrong. The ladies were fun and lively and warm and friendly with great senses of humor.

No sour grapes here, I admire all that’s been achieved and I had a wonderful time — it’s just that I’m seriously not in the same league –or in the same time zone — we’re light years apart –in terms of blogging leading to a successful business venture.

Now I’m contemplating whether or not to continue.

Should I give up?

Geez Louise, I didn’t even have a business card with me.

What a LOSER!