Friday, August 19, 2011


I am sifting through my jewelry box looking at my real and fake jewelry – looking for gold. I don’t know if I have a little, normal or a lot of jewelry. When I moved to New York I thought I had a lot of stuff.  Especially decorative items – candles, picture frames, vases, bowls, baskets, throws, pillows – I mean really, I could give Pottery Barn a run for their money.

But slowly I am becoming disgusted with stuff. On one hand I like stuff – by no means am I a minimalist. However I think having 12 pairs of black pants, 40 dresses and 150 pairs of shoes is excessive. Luckily I have never reached such heights of capitalism – I have 3 pairs of black pants, 8 dresses and 55 pairs of shoes – which is kinda a lot when you think I only have one ass and two feet.

There is a part of me that would like less stuff. Why do I need two bookshelves filled with books? Why have I spent a lifetime collecting all this stuff? Am I taking it with me when I leave this life? I am sure no one wants to box it all up in the event I pass. And really – I don’t need an 88 inch long couch. I am sure a 60-incher would be sufficient.

I hear my phone alert me to a text but I am busy making sure all my earrings have a mate. Somehow I get engrossed in my necklaces and begin trying them on, one at time, sometimes double and tripling them like I see in the fashion magazines. Then I find two of my watches have dead batteries (I have 5 watches – see excessive, one only wrist). And the only thing I am giving myself a pass on is the shoes – oh and the handbags. Even though I can only wear one pair at a time and tote one bag, I need them all for my sanity.

And I have a rule; all my shoes and bags must cost on average no more than $75 and must be leather. Desi Girl does not do fake or pleather. I decide I need a Diva Cola and head to the kitchen. On my way I see my phone flashing – oh yeah – someone texted me an hour ago.

Text from Town and Country: Hey, how are you?

I read the text several times. This guy is the bomb that blows up my heart. I know this. Deep inside my soul, my toes, my head, my fingers. Every part of me except my stupid heart knows he is roller coaster ride of emotional cocaine. Even my shoes and handbags know better than to touch this moth burning fire. Yet – the insane part of me that believes in what is possible, the part of me that has faith writes back.

Text from Desi Girl: I am fine. And you?

And it begins again – the re-re-return of Town and Country.

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