Sunday, January 22, 2012

It's My Time. And It's Your Time, Too. Welcome to Us.

This blog has been created to encourage what we all need a little more of: My Time. As a decadent lady who was raised in the upper echelons of society in Manhattan, Barcelona, and Tallinna, I learned a long time ago that being a woman in and of society isn't easy. Sometimes it's enough to not rip off your control top stockings and throw them at your doorman as he wishes you a good morning.

Recently, my husband, Astor, a virologist (for those of you not raised around such professions, a "virologist" is someone who invents new viruses to combat creatures that wish to overtake humanity, such as badgers and mosquitos and Muslims. Or something like that. Anyway), received the Mel Gibsoner Grant in the Sciences to study the creatures that populate a state in America I had never heard of before, "Missouri," and gracefully destroy the lesser creatures of the world that aim to take control of our planet. Ever heard of a "cave cricket?"

No? I hadn't either. Astor told me it's like the women of the southern states who kill their children slowly through something called "beauty pageants." Hilarious, I told him, over a glass of red blend from Campagnia. I just love it when mothers are willing to ruin their "gateways to pleasure" by spawning and only afterward punishing their children for such bodily abuse. Why even start? That's why we adopted. I like to think of our family as a rainbow of beige with two triumphant white clouds on the ends (that's me and Astor).

Anyway, so I'm in Missouri for perhaps 2 years. It is more important than ever to enjoy My Time. Lesson Number One to All You: When Consuela takes your children out to enjoy something called "fried catfish" while you sleep off one of "mommy's colds," this is the perfect moment for My Time. So for our first lesson on such an occasion, simply follow these instructions: Look in your mirror, hopefully a long, long mirror, as to accentuate the thinnest moment you'll have all day (the morning), and repeat 23 times, "I deserve this." Because you do. You deserve this. You deserve this. And a martini is your morning reward. Low in calories and high in sacred geometry, "you deserve this." And I should know, my husband is a scientolomagist.

To begin this important journalism endeavor I need to know what you think. How do you spend My Time in the early hours before sunset? I want to know what is most important to you, so I can in turn learn, like every good woman does, how to become a chameleon to meet your needs and then secretly practice My Time.


  1. "My Time" in the Morning:

    My partner occupying our toddler while I bundle up with whatever layers are around (men's oversized sweatpants, old maternity robe) and step out into the frigid air. Not to enjoy the nature but to suck down a cup of lukewarm, day-old coffee and poison my lungs. This is an actual double-dose of "My Time" because I immediately return inside where I get to empty my bowels and play word games on my Kindle. This is a moment of complete solitude that can last however long I'd like it to. ULTIMATE "My Time".

    1. Truly this is My Time, although I think having a bottle of champs chilling in the toilet back when you are able to find the time to actually have enough peace to go to the bathroom seems a necessary addition.

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