As promised, today I’m going to share some of my favorite skincare products. Let’s start with cleansers.

Kinerase Gentle Daily Cleanser

One of my favorites that I’ve been using for years is the Kinerase Gentle Daily Cleanser. What I like about this one is that, as the name suggests, it’s gentle. It foams up nicely and cleans well but it doesn’t make my skin feel dry or tight afterwards, nor does it leave any sort of residue behind. It isn’t as inexpensive as what you’d find at the drug store but it also isn’t the most expensive out there. Also, a little bit goes a long way so the bottle seems to last forever; 1-2 pumps seems to be plenty for me.

My mom (Hi, Mom!) used to be fairly anti-makeup and skincare until I managed to introduce her to Kinerase. She was full of excuses: I don’t need it. My skin is too sensitive. The scents are too strong. I’m just fine with my bar of soap. That is, until she gave it a try. Hello, New Best Friend! She loved it. She moved on from there at some point, but it was an excellent gateway drug if I do say so myself. Not only did it cater to her sensitive skin, it’s practically free of any scent and left her skin feeling good rather than just okay. That’s the goal.

Josie Maran Argan Cleansing Oil

Another cleanser that I use on a daily basis is Josie Maran’s Argan Cleansing Oil. The idea of a cleansing oil sounded a little risky to me at first since I obviously don’t want a shiny, greasy face or a breakout catastrophe. However, when I considered the idea behind most makeup removers, the key for getting it all off is oil. So why buy a makeup remover to get my waterproof mascara off and a separate cleanser? After reading a bunch of rave reviews and sampling MAC’s Cleanse Off Oil, which I also liked, I decided to give it a go. Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding – WINNER! It gets my mascara off, cleans out my pores very well, and gives me that extra bit of moisture that I need at night or during the day during the winter months. By “extra bit of moisture” I don’t mean that it leaves me feeling oily by any means, it just leaves a little behind after you rinse. No breakouts, no shiny greasiness, no complaints.

Here is what Sephora’s product description says about it:

“This product is ideal for all skin types. An effective natural cleanser, argan oil restores the skin’s natural moisture and pH balance. It is produced from the argan tree in the semideserts of Morocco. Rich in vitamin E and essential fatty acids, this organically grown ingredient is known to prevent skin dehydration, inflammation, hyperpigmentation, and excess production of sebum.”

What I tend to do is use the Kinerase cleanser in the morning and the cleansing oil at night, and this seems to work well for me. However, I’ve also used just one or the other for periods of time and that’s worked well, too. One of the reasons I especially like using the Kinerase regularly is that it lathers – a must for using my Clarisonic Mia Skin Cleansing System (which I like to use once a day). The cleansing oil doesn’t create any lather, only a slight milkiness, so the bristles of the Clarisonic are a little too harsh if I use that with it.

Clarisonic Mia Skin Cleansing System

The Clarisonic device was something I had on my covet list for quite some time and I’m so glad that I eventually gave in and bought it. While a couple minutes of cleansing using your fingertips works well, I never seemed to be able to achieve the goal of completely cleaned out pores. With mine being slightly large, this was pretty annoying. Maybe this is a problem I could have addressed every so often with a facial, but I was and still am generally unwilling to spend the money on them. While the relaxation and deep-clean is great and all (I’ve had two or three in my lifetime), I just don’t see them as worth the money. I didn’t see any long-term results nor did I enjoy the esthetician constantly trying to push new products and services. One day, one of them talked me into doing a peel. Ummmm, no thanks. NEVER AGAIN. I’ll maintain my skin myself thankyouverymuch.

Well, I think that’s probably enough for today, but tomorrow I’m going to share my favorite moisturizers and skin treatments. Happy almost Friday!


I was never much of a skincare or makeup fanatic when I was growing up (high school and earlier) and I’m not sure why as that was certainly a time when I could have used a little help. I mean, I had a unibrow and very short hair. Without a more feminine haircut, a little makeup would have been huuuugely helpful, but hey, hindsight’s 20-20, eh?

At some point, probably a year or two into college, a friend of mine introduced me to Sephora. I had walked by it plenty of times on the 3rd Street Promenade down in Santa Monica but I had never gone in. I remember seeing what looked like a bunch of colorful body washes in the window display and just never though much of it. Maybe it was the starving student budget that had kept me away, who knows, but after I had been formally introduced, there was simply no going back.

I can hear angels singing in my head as I think of the rows and rows of every brand and type of makeup, skincare products, and grooming tools a girl could ever need. While I’m all for buying the drugstore variety of whatever I can get away with, there are just some things that call for a better product. Face washes and facial moisturizers, for example. I think I tried just about every kind out there and while I may have loved the creaminess and tingle of Neutrogena Deep-Clean, everything I tried seemed to anger my skin. But at Sephora I was able to find not only cleansers and moisturizers that worked well, I could find ones that worked even better than well.

You see, now it’s turned into a vicious (and thoroughly enjoyable) cycle. I find a cleanser I love, I use it for quite some time – maybe 6 months, maybe a year – and then I spot a new one that I feel the need to try out. And if it’s not a winner I can return it, but if it is a winner, it’s my new go-to for a while. And every now again I go back to some of the tried and true oldies for a while, but eventually the skincare fanatic in me has to find the next great thing.

I used to do this just with mascaras and I do tend to switch those up every now and again, but the cleansers – the relentless hope for clear, happy, healthy skin that doesn’t require much make up – tend to be my most exciting finds.

As much as I love makeup and have fun with it, my everyday goal is to use as few products as possible to look put-together and fresh. The usual routine involves cleanser, moisturizer, sunscreen, a little blush, maybe a touch of a highlighting cream to highlight my brow-bones, mascara, a dash of setting powder to minimize pores and keep the unwanted shine away and finally a nice lipstick or gloss. But even then, that takes a decent amount of time out of every day and a chunk of change from the wallet, so if I’m going to spend the time and money the products had better be fantastic.

So tomorrow I’m going to share my current favorites along with some of the tried and true oldies. Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get some suggestions back for new ones to try? Yes? You know you want to! (Hi, my name is Cathleen and I’m an addict.)

 


I saw these guys opening for another band I went to see in SF a while back and was absolutely blown away. I actually enjoyed them way more than the one I went to see.

Horse Feathers | Belly Of June | A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

Horse Feathers – Working Poor from LaundroMatinee on Vimeo.

Horse Feathers – Thistled Spring from HearYa.com on Vimeo.


Yes.


Pomplamoose makes me happy.

That is all.


I wouldn’t say I’m a huge fan of New Year’s Resolutions. It’s not that I don’t think there are things we or – more specifically, I – should aim for or decide to accomplish. It’s just that I don’t think setting the resolution right on the first of the year is necessarily the best bet.

You see, any master procrastinator knows their patterns, ridiculous little OCD-ish “reasons” for not starting something important right at the moment they realize a change needs to be made. Need to lose a few pounds? I should probably finish the food in my fridge before I start my new diet so it doesn’t all go to waste, or I should probably wait until after my birthday next week since there will be cake and, you know, that would totally just ruin my whole healthy eating pattern right there and OH MY GOD LET ME SEE HOW MANY MORE EXCUSES I CAN COME UP WITH.

Yes, that needed to be in all caps.

And it’s in that same master procrastinator spirit that I bobble my head at the, “So, what are your New Year’s resolutions?” questions. I mean, do I have things I’d really, really, really like to accomplish this year? You bet your ass I do. But do I think that plastering them all over the Internets will help me accomplish them? Not so much, no.

But my husband has asked me to make “Stop head bobbling” my resolution for this year, and so it shall be.

Some of you may be wondering what this whole head bobbling business is all about, and so I present to you the highly contagious, completely awesome, just as completely annoying and ever so hard to quit Head Bobble. Please pardon the terrible quality – it was the best I could find.

First clip: Bobble at 54 seconds

Second clip: Bobble at 9 seconds, even better at 35 seconds

And this is where you come in (*cough, cough* so I have someone to blame if it doesn’t work out, *cough, cough*). For those of you who follow my rather sporadic blogging and actually see me face-to-face on a regular basis, if you see a bobble, a friendly nudge would be greatly appreciated. Please and thank you.


I was reading through the afternoon headlines today on one of my favorite blogs, The Morning News, and one link led to another and suddenly I was on a Yahoo! News page. I don’t know if the world just woke up this morning and decided to be an awful place or if Yahoo! simply couldn’t help themselves and decided to post every sad and scary news story at once in favor of increasing their page views and revenue by the sheer power of anxiety-inducing news (wait, scratch that – we all know it’s the latter), but the list of news stories was… not pretty.

I actually typed out links to some of the stories for you before managing to accidentally delete the whole thing, so I think this may have been God’s way of telling me to spare you the trauma. To give you a general idea though: a veteran parachuter committed suicide by unhooking his parachute over upstate New York, a husband and wife are dead after an apparent murder-suicide at Lowe’s in North Carolina, Troy Davis was denied his final appeal, and – lastly – a former Afghan president in charge of a government peace council trying to come to a peace agreement with the Taliban was killed in his own home by a suicide bomber who hid an explosive device in his turban.

Oh yeah, and then add the story about volcanic vents off an Italian island giving us a preview of the acidic oceans in our future, and the other one about the deadliest volcano on the planet, located in Indonesia, being ready to explode again.

Swell.

But then I ran across this:

And that’s how I know we’re all going to be okay.


A Google Chat Conversation With My Husband

Me: I got on my hands and knees and cleaned our entire bathroom. It was nasty.

Ahmed: That sucks. I’m sorry you had to do that alone.

Me: You can do it next time. :)

Ahmed: No, I meant I would have liked to have watched. :P


Last weekend, in a moment of masochism/psychosis goodwill and generosity, I volunteered to help my little — okay, 20 and bearded — brother clean up his apartment up in the Humboldt area where he’s going to school. Well, not just his apartment, but one he shares with two other 20ish-year-old guys. Messy guys. Guys who leave the toilet seat up and little airsoft pellets all over the place and, miraculously, still had a complete shelf of seemingly untouched household cleaning products after living in the apartment for a year or so.

And that’s all I’ll say about the status of the place for fear that Patrick might stop clearing the table and doing the dishes for us each night every time he comes home.

It’s not that I’m that masochistic (or sadistic for that matter considering I also inadvertently volunteered Ahmed) or a big fan of cleaning, but since Patrick and his roommates were about to move out, his landlady had to start showing the place, and his roommates were home visiting their families. And ohhhh boy was this anything but a one man job.

So off we went with an assortment of cleaning products, enough rubber gloves to stock a janitorial supply store, and our own little Humboldt hippy in tow. And while it was a little frightening at times, considering the task, we actually had a pretty fun time!

On the way up, we stopped for lunch in Santa Rosa at the last In-N-Out Burger between Napa and Humboldt. Because of Humboldt hippies and their munchies the distance (over 200 miles), the animal style fries seem to be all Patrick and his friends can think about when they’re off at school.

And since my mom was on her own with one very mopey dog (Maggie just hasn’t been herself since Grandma got sick, and then we deserted her, so she was even more mopey), they decided to go out on their own little In-N-Out adventure. One in which the dog was introduced to Puppy Prozac.

But I digress.

We also went to this neat little diner called Toni’s after our first night of cleaning. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but when I saw blackberry cobbler on the menu, I just couldn’t help myself. And I’m so glad I went for it, because it was basically the best blackberry cobbler EVER (sorry, Mom!).

I think Patrick liked his food, too.

But lets get back to that whole Cleaning An Apartment of 20ish-Year-Old Humboldt Hippies thing.

How do I say this?

Guys? I thought I found a crack pipe. (Deep breaths, Family. That’s past tense right there. Thought, not think.)

It’s not that I thought my little brother was a crackhead or anything (he’s quite mellow and well-mannered), but the shape of the thing and the intricate design coupled with the fact that I found it hidden behind the microwave I was cleaning in the very scary kitchen just made the worst case scenario pop up in my head before anything else. I had never seen anything like it before, and when I asked Patrick about it, he said he and his roommates had no idea what it was either. According to him, they found it in a drawer in the kitchen filled with other odd things when they moved in.

No, I didn’t take it outside to “try it out” or anything, I was just having a really hard time getting a decent shot of it in the house.

The mystery of the thing went on for a few hours until my cousin, Byron, stopped by the apartment to loan Patrick a weed eater for the yard (thanks, Byron!). Byron, being raised in Humboldt, has been around a lot of hippies himself, and thus had adequate knowledge to not only identify but also appreciate the item. Turns out it was a Yerba Mate straw. Who knew?

I have heard that Yerba Mate can get you a little wired though, so in a sense it is a little like another delivery of a crack-like substance.

(Side note: It’s not that Ahmed and I think all people from Humboldt/Santa Cruz/Berkeley are hippies per se, but we enjoy the ones who are and find it entertaining to continue Grandpa’s legacy of hippy discrimination. Quietly, and mostly to ourselves. Because we’re easily entertained like that.)

Apart from the initial viewing of the apartment and a huge scary spider I found (and smooshed) while cleaning the windows, the only other scary part of our visit was our sleeping arrangement. Don’t get me wrong – we had a really cozy inflatable mattress and a down comforter, and the place was a lot cleaner by the time we went to bed – it was just, well, the view…

Each time I would open my eyes, there in the dim light staring down at me was none other than the really freaking scary looking (albeit very talented) Thelonious Monk. While I admire him and all and I don’t think he’s a frightening looking man in most cases, this particular image of him isn’t one I’d say could lull you to sleep at night. Or comfort you if you wake up in the middle of the night not entirely cognizant at first of where you are. Good times.

In addition to all of our other little adventures, we had a really nice breakfast outing the next morning at Los Bagels, which both Patrick and my sister Lisa (who also went to Humboldt State University) have always raved about. Ahmed and I split ours so we could try a couple things. I ordered the Huevos Los Bagels on a cheddar bagel and he ordered the cheddar bagel with cream cheese, lox, and all the toppings (red onions, Slug Slime, and chives). Both were delicious.


The place was really cute, and they had excellent coffee.

We also had a chance to stop and visit my Auntie Patty and Uncle Jon (and cousins Byron and Kenny), who we were rarely ever able to see in their own habitat with Grandma being down in Napa. While it’s a bit of a drive for just a weekend, it’s a really pretty area, so hopefully now we’ll get up there to visit more often than we used to. Especially since Patrick will never have a messy apartment EVER AGAIN, meaning we’ll have a lovely place to stay.

Right, Patrick?

Next post: The drive home.


One week ago, I lost my grandma.

I knew that the time was coming, and I knew it would be hard – very hard – but I didn’t realize exactly how disorienting it would be. I remember going to the farmers’ market a few weeks ago, browsing around for some things that might spark Grandma’s appetite or brighten her day a bit, picking up a bouquet of gorgeous, oversized dahlias, trying to find a few tomatoes that actually smelled like tomatoes, and then wandering over to pick up a few white peaches. The samples were sweet and just soft enough but the ones available to buy weren’t quite ripe yet, which led to these awful, morbid thoughts that I had never encountered up until that point: What if she’s not here in a day or two? What if there isn’t even enough time for these peaches to ripen?

She had hung on through so many tough times and illnesses – plenty of surgeries for various ailments, going through an unpleasant but necessary colostomy that we thought would be reversible only to find out she wasn’t quite healthy enough to have it reversed, years of weekly poking and prodding at the lab to keep her coumadin at the right dosage, losing her husband of 58 years. And then, about four months ago, a blockage of one of her arteries leading to her stomach, which the doctors couldn’t fix. Who knew that, ultimately, this is how Grandma would get her way?

Four months of hospice care in the comfort of her own home, four months without a handful of unappetizing drugs at breakfast and after dinner, four months without having to go to the lab every week to be stabbed and bruised, four months without having to go back to the doctors at all. As I’m sure she would say, how do you like dem apples?

We had lots of short drives through town, which was often all new to her, and long ones out to the beach to visit Papa; the best ice cream cone of her life (thanks to no longer being on a bajillion drugs, her taste buds allowing her to actually taste it and her appetite allowing her to surpass her usual two bites and eat the whole thing, cone and all); mornings and afternoons sitting in her garden with all of Mom’s flowers, always amazed by her gorgeous dahlias, watching her chickens waddle around, digging up worms; cozy mornings with her beloved and loyal dog curled up with her in bed for petting and tummy-rubbing; and four months of being comfortable at home, cared for with all the love in the world by her family.

As many times as Grandma told me over the last decade or so that if they put her in the hospital again for one more surgery, to pull the plugs and run – “You know where the money is,” she’d remind me, jokingly – I was never entirely sure that she was ready to go. But last week, when the time came and she finally was, she had it her way. After asking where Patrick (my little brother) was multiple times each day, he hopped on a bus and made it home to see her with just a few hours to spare; her cozy den, where she was resting in her reclined soft leather chair, was filled with as many of her loved ones as could make it in time and fit in the room, sharing their love, memories, and gratitude, offering comfort and hands to hold, and reminding her to keep Papa in line up there in heaven; and, even though it didn’t seem like she had been fully aware of place and time over the last few months, she waited until the precise two year anniversary of her husband’s passing to finally let go.

So this last week, while unbelievably hard and disorienting, has also been one full of gratitude and amazement: that God gave me such an amazing grandmother and role model; that I was so fortunate to be so close to her from the time she gave me baths in her kitchen sink to the time I was able to help give her warm sponge baths and mini-facials in her bedroom; that she was with us long enough to meet and develop such an amazing, loving relationship with my husband; that after all she gave to her loved ones throughout her life, we were able to be there for her and reflect that love up through her final breath; and that even in the end, Grandma got her way.


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July 8, 2011

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