Deodorant, a Book Review & a Party

I don’t think I’ve ever finished a stick of deodorant in my entire life.

Now don’t be gross, of course I USE deodorant, but I never seem to finish them.  They propagate like bunnies in my apartment and I just move on to the next one.

I was out of town this weekend for a family celebration at my dad’s house.  I also drove an hour northeast of dad’s house to my mom’s house to pick up my sister for the celebration and get ready and whatnot.  There, saved for me from when I left it at Christmas, was a half used $4.99 stick of Dove grapefruit deodorant.  Mom emailed me immediately when I left at Christmas and told me it had been left.  I told her I had others.


She saved it for me anyway because she’s the level of thoughtful and awesome that sometimes leads to crazy.  I’m keeping an eye out.  In the meantime, my mom is better than your mom.

(PS – Thanks Mom!  The grapefruit one is getting hard to find here in Baton Rouge!  I hope you have a great birthday tomorrow!  I won’t list your age, but I’m sure you have at least several more years before I’ll be using that deposit I put down at the home.)


I only got to stay at mom’s for about an hour or so, but I did take my deodorant and put it in my purse…along with the other one that was already there.  There’s another in my book bag that I use for school when I’m in Baton Rouge and as a travel bag when I’m not.  There’s another in my nightstand.  There was one in a drawer in my office which is now a banker’s box in the living room.  There’s one on the bathroom counter and there is one in the “on deck circle” in the bathroom cabinet just waiting for me to decide I’m sick of the others and start on it.  Different scents, different formulations, same thing…use it for a while, put it somewhere so I’ll have it when I need it, forget about it, find it later, then decide it’s old and therefore I must need a new one.

If you’re paying attention, by now you realize that a) I have some sort of unnatural fear of B.O., b) my apartment needs a good de-cluttering, and c) I sometimes don’t finish what I start.  (Right now my dad, reading this, is rolling his eyes and thinking, “Yeah…your first attempts at college.”  I’m on it, Dad.  I’m on it.)  Frankly, I’m amazed this blog is still going after 3 whole weeks.

The way I am with deodorant is the same way I am with books, especially “self-help” books.  Fiction and biographies eventually get finished, even if I have to revisit them eleventeen times.  Books designed to teach me something, motivate me, change me…meh.  I am a big believer in research and the gathering of information, don’t get me wrong.  But the “self-help” genre has only ever helped me to have more crap to dust in my apartment and eventually lug to Goodwill.  I’ve bought, been given or borrowed NUMEROUS books on finances, depression, dieting, fitness, and even books on how to write other books.  Based on all this reading material, I should be an incredibly happy and firm statue, made of gold, who poops vitamins and the plaque at the bottom should say how I was an incredible author.  None of that has happened yet because well, that’s impossible and also, I could never get through the books.  So boring.  So dry.  So repetitive.  So full of B.S., most of them…


Until my new one, that is.  “The Power of Habit” by Charles Duhigg is FANTASTIC.  The book is broken into three sections: The Habits of Individuals, The Habits of Successful Organizations, and The Habits of Societies.  I’m only just beginning part two right now because I’m selfish and went right to the “How will this affect me?” section, helpfully located right up front.  I could not put it down.

It took me a long time to pick it up in the first place because the book is so popular that it was hard to locate.  Save yourself the hassle and order online.  Then I procrastinated a bit because of school, etc.  The time that’s elapsed between when I announced on this blog that I wanted to review the book and me now writing about it has no relationship to its quality.

Once I finally picked it up…a light came on in my brain.  It’s all so simple, and yet, someone had to write it down and put it in front of my face.  But not only are the philosophy and science interesting, the stories are great as well.  I fell in love with Eugene, a man whose traumatic brain injury taught researchers a lot about the neuroscience of habits.  I was aware Tony Dungy was a good coach previously, but knew nothing of his bio.  He’s a good man and has had a fascinating life/career.  So help me, even the story of how Febreze came to market was a page-turner!

I can’t say how effective these ideas and techniques are yet because since I finished section one, I’ve been celebrating my dad’s 60th birthday and driving, sitting, and eating celebration-type food like it was a full-time job.  (The brief possibility of a Superbowl wing shortage was caused by us. Take that Goodell!  I’m a Saints fan.)  But I can definitely say that this will be the first self-help book that I actually finish.  It feels wrong to even call it “self-help” so I’m going to call it business training.  I am definitely looking forward to finishing this business training.  If Mr. Duhigg can cram that many great stories into the first section, I can’t wait to see what he has to say about business and society.  I’ll review those as well and report back on my efforts to alter some habits of my own.  After this weekend, some definitely need to be tried again.  Previous work has been undone and then some!

Personal note** – Happy Birthday, Dad!  It was wonderful seeing you this weekend and seeing so many people who love you come together to celebrate you.  You are a good man but I had no idea you were that popular.  WHO WERE ALL THOSE PEOPLE?!  Hug Pam and let her relax this week.  She’s been stressing over this surprise and spinning plates like you would not believe!

There were times there that 60 was definitely not a guarantee for you and I am so grateful and happy that you got through those times.  I look forward to 70, 80 and 90.  I love you!


I am still mad, though, that 2 of your guests thought that your sister, who is 23 years older than me and has a daughter of her own who is ALSO older than me, was your eldest child.  Please send money for Botox and boob lift.  You have the address.


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