Even online, you can’t hide your age.

Every once in a while I will receive a single email from two people. Inbox – “Donald and Barbara West.” And I know already you’re my grandparents’ age. It’s carried over to the digital – this 1950s notion of title, connection. Blur the lines and throw on an apron, because with a better half you’ll never be solely whole again.

No modern woman would be caught dead losing ground like this. The mentality of combining identities along with bank accounts has long since become stigmatized – today we are women on a mission, with our own things and our own names on our own two feet, ready to separate into two what we’ve be socialized to know has a 50% chance of not lasting.

But in the purest form of “what’s mine is yours,” even for all its masogonistic undertones, there’s something about it I find endearing.

An email from one, on behalf of two says we are together in this, for everything.

Photo by Tracie Clark, one of the amazing, inspiring people I was fortunate to meet at Mom 2.0 Summit.

I’ve met quite a few people this year who are just a little ways down the path I always imagined and hoped to go, and finding out the path is not imaginary afterall has been a bit of a trip. Sometimes quiet, reflective awe often feels like my only means of honoring those moments. Those realizations and revelations that what is I’ve been doing all my life – I’ve never been alone in it, just lagging behind the rest of the group. To those that have a firm footing on the rocky grounds unsuitable for paper plates and checkered fabrics – thanks for giving me something to snack on.

As someone with an education in advertising and a bloated credit card bill/addiction to shiny things, I have acertain amount of brand loyalty when I find things I love. I love the idea of brand advocates/ambassadors and I like to put in a good word when something is great. One of my top loves? Benefit Cosmetics.

So much so that my friend Chelsea “emergency” texted me last week to let me know they discontinued one of our favorite products, FY…Eye, marking the most recent of a long string of jabs to the heart by my favorite line.

And because I am that shallow (or still in mourning) I’ve decided to use my blog not to save lives or feed the children, but to demand the return of the following items:

1. “Best in Show” Eyeshadow, deceased circa 2008 Have replaced with Lancome “Snap,” but it remains the pinnacle  of purple.

2. “Kiss You” Lip Gloss, deceased circa 2009. The color looks nearly purple in the bottle, is clearly magic on lips, and isn’t available anywhere else. They’ve since re-released it, but  completely corrupted and destroyed it by adding glitter, and the texture is all wrong.

3. FY…Eye, deceased circa 2010 The little tub of miracles lasted forever, which was perhaps its downfall. I’ve used it every day for over a year and still have some left. Not sure how to stop the bleeding on this one,  product suggestions? I’m wide open.

What’s next? Bad Gal Lash? After that, they’ll be nothing left… I’ll have to start my own beautifully art directed, branded, copywrited line of face-finishers.

And because Aaron sings it all the time:

Bleh.

Just watched Julie & Julia.

Kinda leaves you with that gross feeling you get when you see yourself in pictures and realize you really didn’t look as good as you thought you did in that dress. Or something.

I don’t want to be a hangers-on to a good idea, I don’t want to be just like everyone else with a blog and a narcissistic addiction to their words in print.

It’s sometimes why this whole writing thing seems so hard, because everything seems to need a gimic, a hook, a 10-seconds or less, elevator talk explanation of why we’re here and what it is we’re doing wasting our time listening to you.

If I’m ever able to answer what it is I’m doing here, I think I might actually get somewhere. But what if what I like to write about most is the pursuit?

Getting down to locking it down has resulted in at least a couple of concrete ideas I’m not disgusted by-

1. People. I love to write about people. Observe people. I think it comes from my mom always pushing me to look for the good in everyone – I like to stay quiet and see what eccentricities emerge, always hoping for a glimmer of something deeper worth celebrating. Sometimes I think I’d like to sit down and write something about each person I know, something intimate and small that makes them interesting and wonderful to me – like my dad and his Papermate pens or my mom’s spirit of mischief (see Encyclopedia, under “P” for “Papermate” and “S” for “Secrets”). It’s always risky to write about people you know, but I think if I could do it a way that shows why they are quietly fascinating and wonderful, it would work.

2. Daily Goodies. I’m a hoarder of things that make me think “yum” – whether it be trinkets, swatches of colors and fabrics, design, food, technology, ideas, products. Oprah has her favorite things, why can’t I?

3. OCD lists. I love lists. I’d like to see more lists – of everything remotely useful to someone living in Houston – parks, venues, fun restaurants. I think working in PR has spurred a new hoarding outlet in which I just plain collect info on news, people, everything online. When I come across a blog with a list of local food bloggers for example, I feast. Everything in one place makes me supremely happy.

4. For a while I was hell-bent on the idea Nicole and I start a blog about food – she would be the high art foodie, discussing the latest culinary masterpieces and hot spots, I would be the dumpster diver scrappy crappy food addict, discussing the high points of Raising Canes v. Chick-fil-a, and the best place to get your overpriced cupcake fix. It would be glorious. Also because her first name actually IS technically Lauren, we could be “Lauren & Lauren” and be the proverbial good and bad consciouses on each shoulder. The graphics would be great – blonde v. brunette, angel v. devil. Ruggles Green v. Whataburger.

“Another belief of mine: that everyone else my age is an adult, whereas I am merely in disguise.”-Margaret Atwood

Today I spoke about social media at a career day for people wanting to go in to fashion.

Thursday, Aaron will be speaking about being a lawyer (or law student rather) at a career day at a local elementary school where a friend teaches.

I find the fact that anyone should consider either of us an expert on anything worth dressing up and talking about thrilling, yet slighlty unsettling.

Are we really that old?

117 laps to go.

2 commutes a day x 5 days a week x 4 weeks a month x 3 months – 1.5 days of March. The drive from Fountain View to Kirby and back is an endurance race, and I am in it for the gold. Slow-twitch muscles engaged, blinker on.

Passing the street I will live on May 31 of this year, 9 minutes in to my 30-minute commute makes my skin crawl that much more when shuffling through the usual exhaust and flashing marquees.

I refuse to believe elderly go missing.

I imagine the man in that 1996 blue Tahoe really just wanted an escape. He wanted to get in his car and DRIVE without someone bothering him about phones with oversized buttons. Maybe he just took an extra long trip to the grocery store. Maybe he just got stuck in traffic like the rest of us.

So close. Just a few more weeks and a couple more miles to go.

A little bit of what’s been going on lately… (since I’m currently at home sick and banned from infecting the rest of the team)

I waste tens of dollars each month buying food products I will never, ever eat.

I do this because I have an underlying morbid curiosity that can be cheaply satiated with strangely flavored jams and dollar store trinkets.

I do this because every once in a while, I strike gold.

Exhibits A and B: Out-of-this-world, best grocery store salsa I’ve found in a LONG time, and some good, cheap hummus (although be warned, garlic lovers will have you burping ugly for days. Recommend mixing with original flavored to tone it down).

Exhibits C and D: Reasons why you should always read packaging carefully. This January I learned that “smoked” almonds means “we used the flavoring from BBQ potato chips and soaked these almonds in them.” Popping one of these in your mouth is shocking, unsettling and gross.

Equally disappointing was the new White Chocolate Almond flavor from Blue Bell. I bought it excitedly, expecting it to be similar to TCBY’s white chocolate mousse frozen yogurt (an endless addiction that has me 11 punches down and 1 purchase to go for a free cup). The reality is akin to a cheap vanilla – flat and plain with a whip-creamy sort of flavor, chunks of broken almonds and absolutely no almond flavoring added to the mix. Bland.

I suppose I could stick to what I know and never end up with gallons of wasted, old ice-crystalized ice cream sitting in my freezer reminding me of the $6 I could have used elsewhere, but I think it’s important to remember that even the small risks are worth taking.

Cheap thrills.