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For work-related purposes, we celebrate it on the preceeding Monday. Thus, it is Memorial Day weekend. For most professionals, it is a three-day weekend; as the British would say, it’s a bank holiday weekend.

It heralds the unofficial start of summer.

The weekend will be spent arguing with family, wrinkling my nose at hors d’oevres that I do not like at the family BBQ and avoiding the sun. I broil in the sun.

A few summer’s ago, I decided I wanted a bit of a tan. Whilst everyone worked, I snuck over to the ‘rents, and I borrowed their pool and loungers. I stretched out on a towel wearing a skimpy swimsuit. I unfasted the top, removed it and succeeded in soaking up the sun.

What did I not count on?

Oh, yes…I fell asleep. In the middle of the day, in the subtropics in late May.

I wanted some natural highlights in my hair, so I spread my hair out around me, put on my shades and closed my eyes to the glaringly bright sunlight. The trees whispered with the breeze. I heard bees buzzing and other natural sounds I did not recognize. I thought a short amount of time elapsed.

I. WAS. WRONG.

I looked at my skin, which through the darkened lenses of my sunglasses had a pink-ish cast. I pushed myself up…and nearly died. My skin was sore and tight. A foreshadowing of things to come. I wrapped a towel around myself, picked up my accoutrements and walked into the house.

My mother greeted me from the kitchen. After expressing shock because she was home early, she casually mentioned that she thought I was looking dreadfully red and thought perhaps she should get me out of the sun.

Pushing my sunglasses up onto my head, acting as an expensive hairband, I gaped at myself in the mirror. RED. The pinkish cast was a dream. I was as red as a lobster. Because I apparently drifted on a light layer of sleep, thinking little time had passed, I didn’t turn.

I only managed to cook half of myself. In the ensuing hours, the pain and tightness set in. If I could have, I would have stretched out, face down in a cooling bath of aloe. Needless to say, there was no blue, save for my pain-tinged sadness that Memorial Day weekend.

Please have a safe and lovely holiday weekend. And, remember your sunblock!

The Donnas: Take It Off: [2:40]

Technorati Tags: life, sunburn, summer, Memorial Day, Weekend

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My clients needs vary from call to call. I do not have one particular type. Some I prefer to speak with more than others. Of course, that can be said colleague, client, friend and so-forth. Even if they aren’t one of my favorites, I give them each 100%. It’s only fair. They pay exceedingly well for my time, company and delightfully wicked mind.

A few weeks ago, a client called with a specific request for our time together. He was working away from home and had a great desire to go shoe shopping. Now, being a girl that adores shoes, I certainly was intrigued. His idea: He will go from store to store whilst I browse their online selection, ideally, looking at the same shoes that he is. At the same time, I’m going to whisper in his ear what I would do with him if I had them on; or, where I would wear these gorgeous confections.

He stopped in three stores: Neiman Marcus, Sak’s Fifth Avenue and Barney’s New York. He browsed, ooh-ing and ahhh-ing at the delicious confections. He’d describe them to me and then I’d find them on the store website. We gave much love to Christian Laboutin, Miu Miu, Dior and so forth. There were infinite shoes to choose from. Although the stock at both Neiman’s and Sak’s were lacking, he thought.

His final stop at Barney’s New York yielded much better results. He saw a delicious pair of shoes. Black patent leather T-straps with a gold heel from Miu Miu. I looked them up online. Now, generally, I’d prefer a silver heel but I admitted they were gorgeous.

What’s not to love about these shoes? The call ended abruptly after this, after he asked for my shoe size. Which, I have to admit, I hated to tell since I have monstrously large feet. I wear a 10US, 40European.

A few minutes after the call ended, my boss called. She asked how the call went and said I should be receiving a package in the mail. Then asked if I had given my appropriate size to which I said yes. She said, I’m a lucky girl to receive them. Of course, does this count as a gift or income? I suppose that’s another question for the accountant.

Louis XIV: Your Shoes Are the Star of the Show: The Distances from Everyone to You - EP 3:06

Technorati Tags: work, clients, sessions

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