Amazing....

I have a love/hate relationship with makeup. I simply LOVE makeup, the shimmer ~ the colors, the looks....but I absolutely HATE the moment of the evening that I spend taking it all off. I use Almay eye makeup remover pads to take off my war paint, followed by Neutrogena face wipes to clean off left overs. The oil from both get into my eyes and gives me a hazy view afterwards.

I love all makeup....especially a bright red lipstick that barely comes off with moderate scrubbing.

What's a girl to do?

Recently I saw a makeup remover towel that Sephora and Ulta sell for a hefty price. It doesn't have any cleansing compound whatsoever, but it removes makeup. I tend to be a bit heavy-handed in applying my makeup but I truly could not see myself spending the high dollar for a piece of cloth.

Until.....Walmart. For a few little dollars I picked up a 3-pack of makeup removing cloths. At least if it didn't work and it was all just hype, I haven't invested much. Sooooooo. ...last night I tried it out. I simply wet the dry cloth and  began to take my eye makeup off (waterproof mascara included). No lying, folks......in 30 seconds I was staring at my clean face in the mirror and wondering what kind of voodoo magic just happened. I wiped and the makeup just disappeared. No pulling, tugging or aggressively wiping. Gone baby, gone!

So, you have been informed...you are welcome.

Peace

Faded Music

I realized today that I haven't  turned on my  car radio once since Rich has been gone. I tried today, but I just couldn't  find the right groove or words that fit into my life right now, so I turned it off. If I'm not mistaken, I went through the whole year of the last deployment without music. It's not that I don't enjoy the music , it's just that it doesn't work for me right now. The silence....i don't even notice it.

Odd?

Maybe.

Peace

MY First

After months of being strong and courageous in the early midst of deployment, I found myself smack dab in the middle of my first (and hopefully, last), breakdown. While I don't recall a great deal about that afternoon and evening, I do know that drinking a full bottle of white wine, through a straw, on a flat empty stomach, already fresh from hours upon hours of crying in my closet as I tried desparately to figure out how best to pack my shoes in a large bag,  coupled with swimming in the neighbor's pool in the  Alabama heat, was not a good idea my friends.

I understand from those who cared for me, helped me dress, left water, crackers and asprin on my night stand, and left me to sleep in a fetal position in my closet, clothed in my underwear and my husband's  flannel shirt, that there was considerable crying involved in my mental checkout.  They also assured me that "shit happens" and sometimes we can only go so far until we break.

I am better now. I feel stronger now without the weight on the sorrow and tears I had been hoarding for so long. Without the distraction of loss as an obstacle, I can now kick the ass of this deployment in a major way.

Peace