Inner Child

What's your inner child like? I'm in touch with mine quite a bit. That can be good and bad.

It means I get just as excited at the thought of a Mr. Softee truck as I did when I was nine. [BTW, who wouldn't love a blue truck that drove right by your house on summer nights, playing music and serving creamy, swirly custard cones?] And that simple pleasures like the smell of Sunday roast chicken, the feel of satin ribbon, and the glimpse of the first spring tulip please me the same as they did when I was a girl. I love the sight of a red cardinal now as much as when my mother, in her blue polyester quilted bathrobe, pointed them out in our backyard with an excited call of "Alice, look! A cardinal!"

It also means I can't quiet the girl down. When she wants something, she's hard to appease. Something like chocolate with sea salt and burnt caramel, or a glossy food magazine, even though it costs $6.95. For one issue.

"But I really want to try that chocolate layer cake recipe," she says. "The one from the famous baker. Look at that beautiful photo. It's like I could plunge my fork right in. Look at that moist crumb!"

"You've tried a million chocolate layer cake recipes already," I tell her. "And that magazine is almost seven dollars. And you have so many magazines already."

"I haven't tried that one," she pleads. "That one might be the best one ever--and how will we know until we try it?"

Tonight she was with me at the Stella & Dot jewelry party at a friend's house in town. I had a little white wine, but she did not get loud or out of hand.

"Ooooooh, look at that beautiful St. Tropez Statement Cuff, the one with Swarovski crystals on a wide ivory linen cuff with covered buttons to close it. It's so pretty and so feminine. It's just the kind of accessory we love. When will we see something like that again? How can we go home without ordering it? This is our chance, big sister."

"We can't get it," I tell her. "There's no way we can spend one hundred and eighteen dollars on it, plus tax and shipping. Besides, we have a ton of jewelry already--enough to last a lifetime."

"Come on. Isn't there a way? It would look so great on us. Especially with that ribbed black sleeveless sweater. This cuff would change our lives. Can we maybe write a check? Maybe the check we're owed will come in before this one gets presented to the bank."

"Nope. We don't use credit cards anymore and we can't buy it. We don't have enough in the checking account to cover it. In fact, we have sixty-nine cents in the checking account until our check from the magazine arrives and clears. And if we bounce a check, we'll get a thirty-five dollar bank fee. Besides, we promised H. we would spend very little here, considering our finances and our efforts to improve them."

I drew a deep breath and inhaled a few more pretzels as the women around me modeled and ordered amazing things. Holding the hand mirrors up to their graceful throats, they slipped on and admired the St. Tropez Statement Necklace [$178], the Byblos Crystal Chandelier Necklace [$148] and the sea glass-colored Artemus Stone Necklace [$298]. Yes, that last one would be not too far off from our monthly car payment. But hey, what's more important, being able to drive places or being beautiful? Don't tell Suze Orman I said that.

The royal We did have a little cash--and the party hostess has just started hiring us to write for her magazine for affluent readers--so we picked out a really lovely, really feminine, ivory, lineny flower brooch with Swarovski crystals in the center. It was much less costly than the cuff. "Pin on your lapel, hair or necklace," the Stella & Dot catalog says. We will. We will wear it a lot, and feel pretty and pampered and like we are dressing up our days and nights with style, whether we wear it to walk the dog or go to the movies.

So there, little girl. It's after eleven-thirty. Now wash your face, brush your teeth, and go to bed. I think I got the last word--didn't I?