A few weeks ago, someone (I think it was Chris but I apologize if it wasn’t) recommended Laura Mercier eye shadow stick.
I love it!!
I am grateful to whatever makeup loving friend turned me on to this nifty little product!! I am grateful for this wonderful, easy glide, nicely colored eye shadow!!
My prompt for the week is WELLNESS. Here’s how it’s used in the books that I am reading:
- Dr. Atul Gawande’s Being Mortal is both the personal tale of his Father’s battle with cancer and a public call for a better health care philosophy and system, one that should enable well-being above all else, even survival, and allow us to die a humane death when the time comes. Jane Mount
- This river flowing through time is alive and well in your body. Pedram Shojal
- She was a walking, talking wellness blog. Taylor Hahn
- If your writing takes a toll on your wellbeing, you’ll be undermining that most basic of goals, and likely compromising your ability to write: a potentially vicious circle. Graeme Simsion
- Frances is quite right: she’ll be perfectly well by this time next week. Emily Bronte.
Here’s how I’m going to think about WELLNESS/WELL
- If you say the word well enough times, it becomes non sensical. What’s the term for that?
- I’m not going to get through 1 out of my head for a bit so I see how my journal thoughts are going to go.
- Even though wellness is big business, do we still undermine it?
Dorothy Parker Symptom Recital I DO not like my state of mind; I’m bitter, querulous, unkind. I hate my legs, I hate my hands, I do not yearn for lovelier lands. I dread the dawn’s recurrent light; I hate to go to bed at night. I snoot at simple, earnest folk. I cannot take the gentlest joke. I find no peace in paint or type. My world is but a lot of tripe. I’m disillusioned, empty-breasted. For what I think, I’d be arrested. I am not sick, I am not well. My quondam dreams are shot to hell. My soul is crushed, my spirit sore; I do not like me any more. I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse. I ponder on the narrow house. I shudder at the thought of men. . . . I’m due to fall in love again. From Enough Rope (Boni & Liveright, 1926) by Dorothy Parker. This poem is in the public domain. poets.org