62 year(s) and 5 month(s)

That is the estimated time to pay my New Balance in full, according to Visa.

I have my own plan. 24 months to debt-free living. I used a calculator, created a budget, and I'm sure I'll be just fine with a few less dollars to spend on random frivolous stuff.

Like those boots I saw today at Bellini... Or the new Stila Travel Palettes (how cute are they???)

I'm sure I'll adapt. Eventually. :)

The Seacret of Eternal Youth

I absolutely hate it when I'm in a shopping mall, and sales clerks at random kiosks try to get your attention to demo their products for you. If I was interested, I would come over. I have important things to do, and places to be. Like buying new boots, over in Little Burgundy.

Last week just such a clerk from a Seacret kiosk actually followed me into another store, so determined to sell me on this product. Have you heard of Seacret? It's a line of Israeli skin care products made with salts from the Dead Sea. Reluctantly, I trudge over to the kiosk. My hands were kind of dry anyway, after a hard day of shopping. A little moisturizer couldn't hurt.

During her spiel about serums and scrubs, I couldn't help but laugh. Was she working from a script? Sun damage? SUN damage? Has she even looked at my skin? I can't remember the last time I spent time in the sun. I come from Scottish ancestry, and burn when exposed to 40 watt incandescent bulbs. I can't say I spend a lot of time outdoors working on my tan. And I would like to think that my porcelain skin tone would be evident to her that a girl my age does not have SUN damage. I would like to think that, but really it's more like paste and less like porcelain. If she told me I have damaged skin from the fluorescent lighting at my office, or from the irradiating glow of my Macbook, then I might have been sold, but this... well, I couldn't hide my smirk.

Suddenly, a wave of doubt passed through my mind. My sneer melted as sheer panic washed over me. Maybe she's right? Maybe I do have sun damage. Maybe from that week in Mexico last year. Or from the time I spent the day out on the pier... when was that? Oh my God...

I began to frantically fish through my cluttered handbag, not for a mirror, but for my wallet. Relief settled in when my fingers found the smoother violet leather card holder. "How much?" I asked, eagerly.

I'm now on day eight of my new sea salt skin maintenance ritual, awaiting my miracle...

It's like buttah...

Not like the hard-pressed, yellow-dyed, foil-wrapped kind you find in the dairy aisle, but like the smooth, creamy, hand-churned, melt-in-your-mouth divinity you can only find down south.

I love my new creamy soft buttery leather jacket from Lucky Brand. I know I shouldn't have bought it, not with all of the expenses of my upcoming move. But I saw it, and it was love. And, it was on sale. And not just any sale. But an additional 40% off sale. How could I resist? It was calling to me from the rack. "I'm the only one left!" It shouted across the store...

My heart pounds when I see red tags. Sale tags. Clearance tags. But when the sale's on sale? What's a girl to do?

Enjoy. Guilt-free pleasure.

Pure love.

At last.