Thursday, February 13, 2014

Thrifty Thursday: Buffalo Exchange

Who remembers the difference between thrift and consignment? 


That's right! Thrift stores feature donated goods in all manner of conditions, while consignment stores take only gently-used items, and they generally pay the donors. Consignment stores are usually more expensive, but because everything there is in good condition, it can be worth the upcharge. Can be. 

I used to frequent Plato's Closet, but their selection doesn't move me anymore. The clothes are too preppy and label-slavey for my tastes (though it's a great place to get jeans). For years, my favorite consignment shop was the branch of Psycho Sisters on Killian Hill, but it closed when I was in college. Their Little Five location is cool, but the clothes are more outlandish and very expensive. Little Five also features a Rag-O-Rama, which is always worth a visit, but legend has it that they are not great neighbors. Last year, Little Five got a new option: Buffalo Exchange.

Buffalo Exchange
Not all rompers are created equal.

Buffalo Exchange
This one was ADORABLE, and I really regret not buying it. WHAT WAS I THINKING?

Buffalo Exchange
I'm a star.

Buffalo Exchange
And you love me.

Buffalo Exchange
Starship Trooper Crawley, reporting for duty.

Buffalo Exchange
This dress is so sweet, but I need another vintage circle-skirted dress
like I need a massive stroke.

Friday, February 7, 2014

Fashionable Friday: Your Make-up Is Not Frivolous

Uugh, I am SCREAMING AND CLAPPING AND YELLING over here, because Anais Mathers, one of the best people I have ever found on the internet, has done it again - she's expressed Myself:

"For as long as I could remember, my guilty pleasure was beauty. Haircuts, hair products, moisturizers, eye cream, lipsticks and eye shadow and blush in every color, as far as the eye could see. I loved editorial hair and makeup and I loved the way a well made shirt hung and how a shirt you found thrifting could fit just as well* and the fact that I could put on characters and I could be more myself in looking different or just with mascara on. Even now, I still feel like I’m going to bore my husband by being excited about finding a new lipstick I’m obsessed with, that he’ll suddenly think I’m a vapid idiot, as if loving one thing negates everything else about you. It’s weird how society pushes you towards all these things you’re supposed to like and do as a woman but there’s a shame about it, you should do the things you need to do to be beautiful but you shouldn’t talk about it, you shouldn’t be excited about it, you shouldn’t have any control over it at all. Well, quite simply, no. I don’t do my hair and paint my nails and wear a variety of red lipstick (“but they all look the same,” says my husband when they obviously don’t) for anyone but me. I do it because I like to try things on and express myself and I like to play with the idea that I can be whoever I want on any day I choose. There’s nothing shallow or self-centered about exploring who you are, about feeling good and pretty, that’s just what they want you to think, that caring for yourself, whether that means a perfect cat eye or skipping makeup, is something you should feel guilty about. Fuck that and don’t let anyone make you feel bad for what you love and how you show it, especially all over your goddamn face. Femininity isn’t awful and vapid, society making us think that’s the case is."

*I mean, right?

Your assignment for this February Day: perform a phenomenal Act of Self-Care. Take a shower, get dressed-up, or drink a glass of water every hour on the hour - take your pick. Celebrate your body, because you are your greatest love affair (at least, you should be).

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Thrifty Thursday: Get Premium Denim for Nearly Nothing

I want to talk about jeans. Before we begin I will encourage you to take half a Xanex and grab a glass of wine - this is a stressful topic.

I've never met a woman who likes shopping for denim. Actually, everyone I know loathes it. For such a wardrobe staple, that's really pretty strange. Everyone wears jeans (at least every now and then) but they are ridiculously hard to shop for.

When I was a teenager, my go-to brand was Old Navy. They fit me like a glove, and their denim blends were nice and soft - just how I like them. But midway though college, their whole line went through a major restructuring, and suddenly the waistbands all seemed to hit in funny places. Plus, as I was getting older, my ass was getting larger - REAL TALK. The super-ultra-low rise pants of my teen years now showed an unholy amount of buttcrack.

I suffered through a few pairs of okay jeans before I finally found my denim soulmate at Plato's Closet: 7 For All Mankind Kimmie Bootcut, size 26. 

The first time I put them on, I understood how a pair of jeans can make you look like an actual rockstar. Remember Liz Lemon and her "Made in USA" revelation? These jeans became my favorite piece of clothing.

But then disaster struck; only six months later, the fabric split at the crotch. 

I was in shock. I refused to throw them away, choosing instead to wear them with really dark underwear, and only when running errands. I'm not proud, but GUYS THEY ARE SO COMFORTABLE, I JUST COULDN'T BEAR TO GET RID OF THEM. Forget about replacing them - 7 For All Mankind is a premium brand, retailing for almost $200.

For months, I've scoured the racks at my favorite discount stores, hoping to strike gold a second time. It's been futile. When the solution hit me, it seemed so obvious - how had it taken me so long to get there?


If you know your preferred brand, size, and style, eBay is the perfect place to look. I ran several searches on variations of "7 For All Mankind Kimmie Bootcut 26," and within 15 minutes I had two great options - a Buy Now for $15, no shipping, and an auction at $1 with $4 for shipping. When the auction closed the next day, I had agreed to pay $10 for the pants. 

For less than $30, I bought two pairs of jeans - they both arrived with the tags ON.

And, if I do say so myself, they look fantastic.

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Tasty Tuesday: Quinoa with White Onion and Tomato REDUX

Remember this disaster? Well Deb gave it such a good write-up that I had to give it another go. If she thought it was worth making, then I owed it to myself to try again.

I'm really glad I trusted her, because this stuff is DELICIOUS.

It's hearty enough to be a main course, but also mild enough to play sidekick. Plus, it keeps really well in the fridge. I'll make up a big batch on Sunday and then eat it for lunch all week. I like to bake a few chicken breasts to eat alongside (or I shred them and mix it all up).

How would you spice it up? Another protein? Or maybe a veggie?

Friday, January 31, 2014

Fashionable Friday: Why You Should Wash Your Face With Olive Oil

It's Bath and Beauty Friday! Here's your background info:

  • I used to have the oiliest skin of all time (foreshadowing: used to)
  • I'm a bit of a dirty hippie

When I was a senior in college, Eva, my Best Friend In the World (my mostly companion of 26 years, the friend I have had since before I was born) experimented with a chemical-free beauty regimen. This included baking soda instead of toothpaste, corn starch instead of deodorant/antiperspirant, baking soda instead of shampoo, and olive oil instead of face wash.

I was so. jealous.

I'm fully integrated into the 21st century - I have an iPhone and a Kindle and a car with Bluetooth and I get checks direct deposited (when I remember to turn in my voided checks) but sometimes I'm afraid of all the Chemicals in my life. There are Chemicals in, like, EVERYTHING - not only will our phones give us brain cancer, they will eventually break down and seep chemicals directly into our soil and water and give us stomach cancer. And there are tons of Chemicals in the other things we use every day - cleaning solutions, foods, and beauty products. Do we really NEED all those extra preservatives and detergents hanging around our bodies like that?

This flower child wanted to see how much she could simplify her beauty routine. I tried to use baking soda as toothpaste (it tasted disgusting, but felt okay; mostly, it was a little complicated to do, so I stuck with regular toothpaste), corn starch instead of deodorant (left my pits BONE DRY, but didn't do a THING to combat stench - I have literally never smelled worse in my life), baking soda instead of shampoo (my curls laugh at this method, and refuse, as usual, to be tamed), and olive oil as face wash.

My face LOVES to be cleaned with olive oil. 

It sounds counter-intuitive, I know - why would oil help oily skin? But when you look at the *science*, it all comes together. The best, most succinct explanation I've read comes from Crunchy Betty:
"You know how your skin – all of it – secretes oil? Even if your face feels dry, it still has oil on it. Well, according to chemistry know-how, like dissolves like. So, effectively what you’re doing is dissolving and wiping away all the icky dirty oil from your face and replenishing it with clean, nourishing oil. There’s no harsh chemicals involved. No suds. Nothing to actually strip your skin of its oil. And this is good, because when you strip your skin of its sebum, it goes into overdrive, trying to create more. Which leads to clogged pores. Blackheads. Whiteheads. Just plain old irritation."
Don't you want to slather your face in oil?! I hope so, because I think if you try it you will fall. in. love.

There are a lot of different ways to cleanse with oil - a Google search will return a ton of options. Here's my method:

  • I have a soap dispenser filled with equal parts olive* and grapeseed oil.
  • I turn on my hot water and let it get really warm.
  • While I wait, I pump a dime-sized amount into my hand and massage it all over my face (This is how I remove my makeup, by the way. Oil will lift the waterproof mascara straight from your lashes. Oh, and it's ridiculously gentle - if you poured the oil straight into your eye, it wouldn't hurt at all).
  • I soak a washcloth in the hot water, lightly wring it out, and then lay it over my face for a minute. The steam opens my pores for maximum cleanliness.
  • I wipe the oil off with the washcloth, rinse it out, and hang it to dry.

That's it! I do this at night, and in the morning I splash my face with cold water. If it's particularly dry outside, I'll put a few drops of oil on my whole face as a moisturizer. You can use the same stuff you wash with. 

I've been cleaning my face this way for four years, and I love it. My skin has never been softer, and it's not oily any more. Guys, science! 

Oh, and the OCM is insanely inexpensive. So chew on that.

I will say, this method doesn't always travel well. It's ever so slightly annoying to cart around a washcloth, and since it gets completely soaked, it's even more annoying to take home. When I was in Israel, I washed my face with a traditional cleanser (by First Aid - I got it as a deluxe sample from Sephora) and used maracuja oil (a gift from the aforementioned Eva) to moisturize at night and in the morning.

That's another thing - oils are really "in" right now. If you go to Sephora, Ulta, or even CVS, you'll see a lot of oils on the shelves. The maracuja oil is AMAZING stuff (I seriously adore it), but I urge you to save your money with this. Grapeseed, almond, avocado, safflower, olive, and castor oils can ALL work for cleansing and moisturizing, and you can get them for a fraction of the price.

So guys, don't you think it's about time to embrace your inner hippie, give your wallet and your face a break, and treat yo self to some oils?

*According to Crunchy Betty, I might be a freak, since olive oil works for me. You might want to try other oils, since it seems to cause trouble for most people.

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Galen's Days in Israel: Part Three

This is Part Three in my Israel Logs. Finally. 

You can find the first installment here, and the second here.

Jan 8:
I awoke this morning in Tiberius to realize that our hotel room had a huge balcony overlooking a lake; I didn't notice it last night because it was dark when we got in.

All I want in the world is to eat some fruit at breakfast, but that ain't the way of things in the Promised Land. You know what you can have, though? Cole slaw. Two or three varieties, even. What I would give for some blueberries...

Driving to the Golan, we passed the Sea of Galilee, Magdala (Mary Magdalene's hometown), and the Jordan River. I think that's as close as we'll get to any Christian landmarks, but there they are, waiting for other people to come and visit.

We spent a couple hours hiking in the Golan Heights. I hate to say it, but I was so bored by the magnificent landscape; I've grown so jaded. I can hardly take in another amazing sight. 

Back on the bus, Shabat played a CD donated by a past Birthrighter. We all sang our hearts out to some Mariah Carey. 

Our second stop, Mount Bental, sits on the Syrian border. There, Shabat told us about the Yom Kippur War. In the middle of our discussion, we heard an explosion in the distance, in Syria. Almost before I could react, our Israeli group members were talking.

"Oh, did you hear that?"
"That was a bomb."
"Guys, did you hear it?"

Damascus was a good fifty miles away, farther than our eyes could see, but the war was within earshot.

My sense of amazement was renewed.

We stopped for lunch in a small town just off the highway. I wandered into a cafe, bought a latte and a meringue cookie, and ate alone for the first time since I left Atlanta. For fifteen minutes, I was a solitary traveller. Then I boarded a bus with 49 other people - once again, a member of the herd. 

We took a quick tour through an olive oil factory. We sampled flavored oils and tried a line of olive oil beauty products. I've been cleaning my face with olive oil for years - perhaps my lovely readers would appreciate a tutorial? 

We visited yet another Kibbutz as the afternoon waned. This one was very modern - it looked like a college campus (no mud huts to be found). I think I'd like to live on a kibbutz - I'd make a salary, do my share for the whole community, and eat all my meals for free. Do you think there are any kibbutzi that want a resident actor? 

On our drive to Jerusalem, the bus became a comedy club. As you might imagine, things got It was such a spontaneous, electric event; the air crackled with laughter. I wish that bus ride had lasted nine hours.

This was a Wild Wednesday

Jan 9:

Last night, I stayed-up til 2 discussing Palestine with one of our Israeli guests. It was my latest night of the whole trip, and so far my favorite. 

This day was incredibly emotional. I don't want to explain it; I don't have the energy. I'll just tell you where we went: Yad Vashem (the Holocaust museum), and Mount Hertzel (the military cemetery).

So yeah, light day.

In the evening, I popped into a cafe with Michelle and we ordered absolutely delicious hot chocolate (shoko haam). 

A Taxing Thursday.

Jan 10:
I feel like I've been here for a month. It's been incredible, but I'm really ready to go home. This program is exhausting. The last time I woke up this early this often, I was in high school. My body can hardly take it.

This morning, we went to the Old City of Jerusalem. It's a fascinating place - there is so much overlapping history. We stood on the roof where the four quarters meet, and I could hardly take it in; so much happened in this city, it means so much to so many, and there we were, smack in the middle. Is this real life?

The main event, of course, was the Weatern Wall. As I waited with my note in my hand, I pinched the skin on my forearm. My grandma Hannah and my great-grndma Gussie each prayed for her moment with the wall, but they never went; I felt like I was standing there for all of us. When my turn came, I placed my forehead on the stone and took a deep breath. If hope has a smell, it smells like the Western Wall. If the collective energy of that place cannot reach to heaven, then I am not sure heaven exists. 

Afterward, we visited an adjacent archeological site, but no one could concentrate; our minds were still at the wall with our fathers and mothers and aunts and uncles and grandparents and teachers and friends.

Shabat gave us a task for the afternoon: pick a name out of a hat and buy that person a Secret Schlomo (because who is this 'Santa?') gift. We scoured the Jerusalem market for presents under ten shekels, and I got hopelessly lost for twenty minutes. It was no big deal; I bought a chocolate chai latte and stood still until I saw someone I knew.

Our second Shabbat began at sundown. We lit candles and walked to a nearby neighborhood. The Sephardic synagogue allowed us to come inside and observe the men in prayer; they even let the women sit in the main sanctuary (a very big deal for this Orthodox congregation). 

My Secret Schlomo was Liz. She got me candied almonds from the market because they're, "sweet, and a bit nutty," like me. They smelled like heaven and tasted better.

What a Fine Friday.

Jan 11:
Our last day in Israel, ten people in our group had a Bar/Bat Mitzvah. The ceremony was quite simple, but overwhelmingly beautiful. We each went up in turn and sang the blessings, and (since none of us read Hebrew) the trip leaders read the portion for us.

This ceremony was so important to me; I have always felt like a Jewish Outsider, but now I am official. I was so nervous while I sang the blessings, but afterwards I could stop smiling. I was surprised by the flood of emotion that came through me, but I really shouldn't have been. Belonging in the Jewish community has always been very important to me, and this ceremony has put to rest the doubts which plagued me for so long.

It was a Sweet Shabbat,

Jan 12:
The rest of our day was all travel - bus to airport to plane to airport to plane to Atlanta. We even traveled back in time - time zones are funny that way. My sleep schedule is a mess, and I don't know how long it will take me to recover. But I'm home, finally, in the land of cheeseburgers and drip coffee. 

Quite the Strange Sunday.

My first trip overseas was exhilarating, exhausting, confusing, humbling, trying, thrilling, and amazing. It's something I'll carry with me forever; I hope that I am very different for it.

In all, a Terrific Trip.

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Galen's Days in Israel: Part Two

This is Part Two in my Israel Logs. You can find the first installment here.

Jan 4:
This was Shabbat, and we did just about nothing - it was excellent. In the afternoon, we took a trip to the beach in Eilat. It was much, much too cold to swim, so I sat on a towel and read. That night, we went to a mall for dinner (and shopping). Yes, I bought a dress - don't you know me by now? We went to a bar called Park Avenue, which was decorated with touristy pictures of the New York City skyline. After my time there, no place seems less inviting or romantic than New York. I ordered a gin and tonic and received a glass of gin and a glass of tonic. 

My, this was a S Saturday.

Jan 5:
My birthday started with a bang - by 10 AM, I was atop a mountain from which I could see Egypt, Jordan, and Saudi Arabia. The Red Sea looked like a tarp - I felt I could pinch it and pull it off the land. 

We came down to the seashore, and even though it was 60 degrees I went snorkeling. The water was frigid (I screamed a chain of expletives as I eased-in) but once I was submerged I felt like part of the atmosphere. I very nearly swallowed seawater, but after a few false starts I found a rhythm. Floating on top of the water, facing the rocks on the sea floor, was very much like meditating. Fish passed beneath me; I pretended I was a mermaid. 

We had lunch at a kibbutz that specializes in dairy (amazing ice cream), and toured another - Kibbutz Lotan. At midday, I sipped tea in a mud building as sun streamed through the window.

As the sun set, we visited Ben Gurion's grave. It sits atop a cliff in the Negev desert, symbolizing the first Prime Minister's dream to incorporate the desert into Israel.

We're hearing a lot about the SIZE of Israel; we are told that without the Negev, the country will not be large enough. We are told that the Negev is vital for Israel's growth. We are reminded that the United States is SO BIG - look at how small Israel is! How can it ever compete?

We ended our night at a Bedouin settlement. An older tribesman welcomed us with coffee (the tradition is three cups) and told us a bit about his peoples' past and customs. The Bedouins aren't nomads anymore, and they sleep in trailers cemented to the ground. While the presentation was interesting, it did not feel particularly authentic. It was like visiting a museum and being told that people live there. The food, however, was delicious. 

I was presented with a cake, and the boys lifted me in the air 26 times - I laughed as my head brushed the roof of the tent again and again and again.

Late that night, we walked away from the settlement and spent some time under the stars. Ten minutes of silence and contemplation (in the freezing cold) was a welcome way to end my birthday. What is that Carl Sagan quote? "Everyone who has ever lived or died has done it on this rock?" Something like that...

We all slept in one huge tent, on pallets on the floor. I thought I'd be uncomfortable, but it was the best nights' sleep I'd had so far. 

In the morning, Mel woke-up with her face in my cake. CLASSIC.

This was a Special Sunday.

Jan 6:
Our last day in the desert.

We hiked through a valley with an oasis. There were natural caves in the cliff sides where rabbis and monks used to isolate themselves for years at a time. I could barely handle ten minutes of silence the night before - what a wimp. 

Shabat told us the traditions of a particular desert tree - the Bedouins claim that the wood will burn for days at a time. The burning bush, perhaps?

We left the desert for Tel Aviv. In Rabin square, our group grew by seven - we now have Israelis among us. Five of them are still soldiers; the others are a student and a business owner. They will accompany us for the rest of our trip, and hopefully we will all be different for knowing each other. After some light icebreakers, we heard about the tumult of the 80s and 90s, the hope of a new leader, and the despair of his assassination. His memorial is composed of jagged stones, representing the emotional earthquake of his death. 

There, we heard an anecdote that will not leave my mind. In 2011, a group of a thousand Palestinian prisoners was released in exchange for one Israeli POW. All the Israelis in our group, including Shabat, believe that was the right decision. One phrase keeps repeating in my head: "We do not negotiate with terrorists." 

Is one life worth more than another? Is it right to release a thousand convicted killers back into the world? Or is it wrong to let a countryman go?

I had pizza for lunch - it felt like cheating.

The market in Tel Aviv was interesting, I suppose, but if you've been to New York's Chinatown, then it's nothing new. By this point, I was ready to leave Tel Aviv; I missed the desert.

After dinner we had a panel discussion with our Israelis. Shabat tried in vain to keep the discourse light, but we weren't interested in pleasantries. There are serious forces at work here, and it seems we all want to understand them. 

I was most surprised by their attitude toward the United States - they don't understand what it's like to be a minority. They don't understand how we can BE a minority. They would rather live in Israel, where everyone they know is Jewish, and they don't ever deal with the complications of cultural diffusion. Personally, I love the American salad bowl; I love that I am from a blended family, and am constantly exposed to differing viewpoints. Yes, it's annoying when people try to convert me (it's not gonna happen, kay?), but I am proud to be a part of America's tapestry. In Israel (where 80% of the population is Jewish) you might be understood, but you are also one of the herd. And how must it feel to be non-Jewish here? In the Jewish State, being a Christian must be very frustrating. 

If you're the majority, then someone else is in the minority; do not forget to include them in the fabric of your country.

Almost everyone else went out to a club after our discussion - I am an ancient 26 year-old lady, and I went to bed early. But first, I spent two blissful hours ALONE in my hotel room. It was my first period of isolation in 6 days, and it was sorely needed.

I'm just gonna say it: Manic Monday.

Jan 7:
So many people are hungover this morning - I feel fantastic. Sorry, not sorry :)

At the moment, we're on the bus heading for Zefat. There, we will learn about Kabbalah and the roots of Jewish mysticism. I'm reading Herman Hesse's "Siddhartha" on my Kindle, which seems appropriate.

Here's a quick thought: I found out that I can be bat mitzvah'd in Jerusalem. I'm not sure yet if I'm going to do it, but it's a possibility. I wanted to feel more Jewish after this trip - that's one way, I guess.


It's been a few hours - we are now in Tiberius, in our hotel. Zefat was incredible - we visited a Kaballah center, a visual artist, a candle factory, and the artists' colony. 

At the Kaballah center, we reopened my favorite topic: Gilat Shalid, the Israeli soldier who was traded for 1000 Palestinian prisoners. In groups, we were given pieces of Jewish text and asked a series of questions relating to the controversy. My group discussed the difference between the heart and the mind; which decisions are better, emotional or rational ones? This group of 15 read passages by Jewish rabbis and tried to find consensus. It. Was. Fascinating. I could talk about this for days and days and never be tired; I am fascinated by the differences in American and Israeli culture. 

The artist showed us beautiful paintings which describe the core principles of Kaballah. My favorite mapped the sound waves of a Shofar, and showed how the blasts illustrate a relationship with The Divine. I've always been interested in Buddhism, and my therapist says I should meditate more - maybe I should give Kaballah a try?

The artists' colony in Zefat is incredible - there is so much beauty lining the streets. I kept thinking about my Aunt Sherry - she'd be in heaven there. 

Zefat won me over, hard. It is by far my favorite place we've been. The desert was lovely, a place to restart, but Zefat is a place that feeds the open soul.

I had a revelation this afternoon; I know what lead me to Israel: the questions. I always say, "I love being right," and I do (I really, really do). But when it comes to my faith, I have many more questions than answers. I'm not just talking about "big questions," either; there are a lot of details that I just don't understand.

I didn't grow-up going to synagogue; I actually attended a Unitarian church until I was 18. I am so grateful for my inclusive, tolerant, curious Unitarian family, but I have always longed to understand my Jewish roots. I call myself "Jewish," but sometimes I feel like a fraud because I don't understand the minutiae of day-to-day Jewish life. I'm ignorant to hundreds of traditions. Hell, until last Friday, I had never observed Shabbat before. 

These questions lead me to Birthright. I came to Israel to learn about my people - about Israel, this place which (I am told) is my home. I don't know yet if I feel "more Jewish" than I did when I left the United States, but I understand Judaism a bit better than I did a week ago, and that's a good place to start.

I liked this Teachable Tuesday.