Happy April, Friends of Faye!

Once upon a time—in a time before words like “pandemic” and “vaccines” had become cultural mainstays—I was, admittedly a bit of a glamour girl, not unlike Faye. I think it was this shared trait that enabled Faye and me to bond all those years ago. We did meet, after all, when I took a seat on the floor in her suite and showed her a brush—at which time she promptly jumped down from her royal rafters and climbed into my lap: “Yes, kind and fashionable hooman, you may brush my floof,” is (sort of) what she said.

For me, the last many #SelfCareSundays has been about home manicures, face masks, and the occasional promise that I will not cry (too much) if I mess up a home haircut. I’ve traded in my dresses for Zoom-friendly loungewear and my jeans for pajama bottoms. And it’s been…  … well, different. Early on in the whole quarantine situation, I remember telling a friend that I would know I was becoming “feral” if/when I bought a weighted blanket.

Reader, I bought one.

Faye, too, has been coping with the new normal—and its less-than-glamorous aspects—in a variety of ways. For example, Faye will now sleep just as contentedly on a pillowy blanket or in a cardboard box. She rocks a fully-brushed look and bedhead with equal grace. And yes, friends, her medical report this month notes the presence of both mild chin acne and a (harmless) wart near her nails. Is she still healthy? Yes! Is she still happy? Yes! Is she still helpful at meds time? Yes! Is she still Vogue-cover-ready? Meh.

This month, as you ease into spring, Faye and I remind you to be gentle with yourself. Sit outside and let the sunbeams shine down on your roots, run through the grass on your un-pedicured feet, spend the day in your PJs because PJs are wonderfully comfy, and take that mid-afternoon nap. You are beautiful and enchanting and magical in your authentic self!

Faye sends you her love, and she thanks you for loving her—just as she is.

We’ll talk again soon, friends…

Your correspondent,
Beth