elevate.com

Learning fromthe Pastfor positive perspective

Brush tips for the perfect eye

What is thenext stepto balance your busy life

The secretto staying healthy

having fun doing it

make over everything

Get organized already

Measuringup with that perfectneighbor, coworker and or friend

A better wom

an magazine

Take a look at our new departments and find more with our One on One,Step by Step and Own your Own departments designed just for you.

“ Take control now by achieving balance between your work and personal busy life.”

Contents4/11

19

21

27

/ One on One

/ Step by Step

/ Own your Own

My fun way to stay healthyInterview with Shelly Taylor

Steps To Work-Life BalanceDifferent women from

around the nation give tips to manage life and work.

Elevate your make upThe secret to applying eye

makeupHow to use a brush to ap-

ply your eye shadow

Why health?By Amanda Fortini

About the Cover

In this issue we present a refined ELEVATE concept, considering the aspects of a better woman

and how to become that woman. Find tips for every day life, along with inspiring stories from real-life readers. Enjoy this issue as you become the better woman you

desire to be.

/ My first CarHow to purchase your first

car or home and tips for your best buy.

10

March 2011 / 05

19

21

27

10

The felling of own it

140 /Snapshotsfrom the Past

/The new Pet

/Bright Color-Dress

/Scent and Touch

what is the new cool pet From experts learn the

best way to pick a pet that can be fun and exited.

Guess what is new outthereDiscover the new way to

dress up this coming sum-mer and spring.

The joy from NatureInterview to women that enjoy

nature and natural life.

Feature Article

“Happiness is the mean-ing and the purpose of life, the whole aim and

end of human existence”

Aristotle quotes

Different people from around the nation give tips

to manage life and work.

92

47

34

Contents4/11

140

92

47

34

Nothing compare to this

fun

Only a handful of publi-cations have focused specifically on the definition of health and its evolution in the first

6 decades. Some of them highlight its lack of operational value and the problem created by use of the word “complete.” Others declare the definition, which has not been modified since 1948, “simply a bad one.”[3]In 1986, the WHO, in the Ottawa Charter for Health Promotion,

Personal health depends partially on the social structure of one person`s life. The maintenance of strong social relationships is linked to good health conditions, longevity, productivity, and a positive attitude. Only a handful of publications have focused specifically on the definition of health and its evo-lution in the first 6 deack of operational value and the problem created by use of the word “complete.” Others declare the definition, which has not been modified since 1948, “simply a bad one.”[3]In 1986, the WHO, in the Ottawa Charter for Health Promotion, said that health is “a resource for everyday life, not the objective of living. Health is a positive concept emphasizincades. Some of them highlight its lack of operational value and the problem cre-ated by use of the word “complete.” Others declare the definition, which has not been modified since 1948, “simply a bad one.”[3]In 1986, the WHO, in the Ottawa Charter for Health Promotion, said that health is “a resource for everyday life, not the objective of living. Health is a positive This is because positive social interaction as viewed by the participant increases many chemical levels in the brain which are linked.

By Amanda Fortini.

/ One on OneThe Health & Life

Why Health?

MY

By Shelly Taylor

have focused specifically on the definition of health and its evolu-tion in the first 6 decades. Some of them highlight its lack of operation-al value and the problem created by use of the word “complete.” Others declare the definition, which has not been modified since 1948, “simply a bad one.”[3]In 1986, the WHO, in the Ottawa Charter for Health Promotion, said that health is “a resource for everyday life, not the objective of living. Health is a positive concept

of publications have focused specifically on the definition of health and its evolution in the first 6 decades. Some of them highlight its lack of operational value and the problem created by use of the word “complete.” Others declare the definition, which has not been modified since 1948, “simply a bad one.”[3]In 1986, the WHO, in the Ottawa Charter for Health Promotion, said that health is “a resource for everyday life, not the objective of

WAY TO STAY HEALTHYWith personal questions about staying healthy doing what you like.

March 2011 / 19

/ Step by StepThe Balance

We all have so many commitments these days that we can feel at times we’re getting ripped in a million

different directions. What to do? Take control now by achieving balance between your work and personal

lives. Here are some tips from the experts.

\\\\\\\\\ Identify PrioritiesConsider what you want to get out of your work and your personal life, and eliminate the things that don’t help you achieve those goals. Do you want to get a promotion at work and also attend your kids’ sporting events? Make those things your top priorities, and do what it takes to make them happen. the things that don’t help you achieve those goals. Do you want to get a promotion at work and also attend your kids’ sporting events? Make those things your top priorities, and do what it takes to make them happen.Ann ShafferGardner, Kansas

\\\\\\\\\ Edit Yourself Per-sonally and ProfessionallyLet go of the things that are not mission-critical. Take yourself off committees and out of obligations that you can’t give your all to, leaving yourself free for the most important ones.Karen SmithLos Angeles, California

\\\\\\\\\ Have a support systm of peopleLet go of the things that are notof the things that are not of the

Things will come up, and you’ll need help. Identify people who can pitch in at times, such as family members, neighbors, friends and colleagues. Things will come up, and you’ll need help. Identify peo-ple who can pitch in at times, such as family members, neighbors, friends and colleagues. Things will come up, and you’ll need help. Identify people who can pitch in at times, such as family members, neighbors, friends and colleagues and others in my life.Brenda OlsenBoca Raton, Florida

\\\\\\\\\ CommunicateEstablish clear communication with your colleagues and your boss. If you won’t be available for certain hours during the day or weekend because you’re dealing with family problems, make sure your man-ager is aware and agrees.Carla GoilaNew York, NY

\\\\\\\\\ Use Technology to Your AdvantageTechnology should help you achieve work-life balance, not rule your life. Make certain times, like dinner, are technology-free for you and your family. Set an example by adhering to the rules you lay down.Shelly TaylorProvo, utahS Steps To

Work-Life Balance

“ Take control now by achieving balance between your work and personal busy life.”

March 2011 / 21

/ Own your ownThe Beauty

ELEVATE YOUR

MAKE UPMakeup should emphasize beauty and highlight your best features, not

become a mask for which to hide. It is the eyes, the windows to your heart and character that are seen first. Your eyes create a focal point for creativity, fun, and elegance. Therefore, when applying eye makeup, it is necessary to create balance and harmony to reveal your true beauty.

The secret to applying Eye Makeup

When applying eye makeup, remember that a small amount

goes a long way. It is best to start applying the shadow lightly,

building up to intensity desired. Since you can alter the shape

and look of your eyes using eye makeup, begin by tracing the brow

bone with your finger or shadow tool to get a feel for the shape of

your eye. It is important to note that you do no want to apply eye

shadow above your brow bone; rather, you will be blending upward

towards the brow bone.

How to use a brush to ap-ply your eye shadows

Apply your shadow using a shadow brush in a medium size.

The brush will give you more control. A larger eye shadow brush

will give more coverage for the total eye. A smaller shadow brush

will give a more defining line. Keep in mind that you will want to use a synthetic brush for creams and a

natural hair brush for powder. Us-ing these brushes for specific eye

makeup will make clean-up easier.

1. Begin applying the shad-ow to the mobile eye, making sure that the shadow covers evenly and

is blended carefully in an upward

2. Apply the shadow on the opposite eye. Be sure to create equal looks. Uneven shadow will upset the balance and harmony.

3. Apply the eyeliner to the top of the eye, close to the lashes. This will create thickness. You can also line the bottom lashes lightly for a more dramatic and defined look. Remember that when you ap-ply loner, black is more commonly used for nighttime and brown or navy for daytime.

4. For more emphasis, apply a pearly white or ivory in the inner corner of the eyes and above the brow bone to highlight the eyes. Blend carefully so that the shadow highlights and does not

“The best make up, It was very good year”,Sinatra Famously Crooned. Here,

Six Acclaimed Writers Reflect on theirown very good years, From 4 To 50.

March 2011 / 27

Glowing glossChanel gloss fluo de chanel brilliant Lip

shine in laser, $27.Read more: neon makeup and acces-sories - best neon makeup, bags, and

jewelry - redbook

Illustration by Brian Cronin

snapshots from the

March 2011 / 140

LOOKING BACK, THE YEARyears old was famous for its heat wave. For several weeks, my family escaped to our London suburb to go camping on the ground of a country manor. My parents had given me a small tent for my birthday and allowed me to pitch it as far from them as possible. When it rained, I loved to zip myself inside with a book and listen to the drumming on raindrops on canvas. Mostly the days were clear and hot, and I ditched my younger sister to hide with a book, up on the thick, gray lower limbs of elm trees, which soared together overhead like a cathedral. I read my way through countless books - some from the library, stiff in their

legs and untidy brown hair and limbs that were gangly but strong and good for running and balancing. My parents, normally so cautious, allowed me to roam and, in evenings that stayed light for hours, forgot to enforce bedtime. I was oblivious to the expectations and silly cruelties that were about to chip away at my teenage years. I had yet to hear a girl pretend to know less about a subject than a boy. I was unaware that smart-mouthed girls were unpopular. I knew I was tall but as of yet had no idea tht I should slouch in a corner while pretty girls danced n platform shoes. I didn’t know Shake-speare was not cool. I loved to zip it.. with a book and listen to the drum-

IN THOSE DAYS, THEYthey were called spinsters. I knew them by name. Miss Prescott was a librarian at Columbia University. Miss Cutler was a watercolorist. Miss Jourdan, a novelist and a magazine editor. The ladies lived in the apart-ment one floor above ours, at 36 Gramercy Park, in New York City. In the afternoons, while my mother taught school, I climbed the back stairs and visited them. Their apartment was dark: dark paneling, dark furniture, and maroon velveteen on the window seats. Most walls were lined with books. Others were adorned with shields with coats of arms, crossed swords, and ornate tapestries. There was a wastepaper basket made from a rhinoceros’s foot and a little while elephant carved out of ivory. As a child, I found it highly interesting that someone would carve an elephant out of ivory but never commented on it. Miss Prescott was tall and bony, with a voice that cracked. Miss Cutler seemed composed of pastels. They served me milk and cookies as they took their tea, and taught me canasta, at which they openly cheated. They read to me - Doctor Doolittle, The Wind in the Willows, and Tom Sawyer - pausing to ask me questions, such as why Tom pretended to enjyoy whitewash-ing the fence, and did I think Pooh silly or smart. Toward the end of the afternoon, Miss Jourdan would arrive home from work. She greeted her companions tersely, laid down her briefcase, and looked me over. She was a large woman who breathed heavily and always dressed in black, like Queen Victoria. She preferred to head straight to the concert grand in the living room and play, her huge hands extending nearly two octaves and coming down hard on the keys. One day she played “The Blue Danube” and “Londonderry Air.” I

listened. And when she finished, I sat beside her on the piano bench and played the pieces pretty much as she had done, though with simpler chords and a lighter touch. Miss Cut-ler and Miss Prescott shrieked with delight at my small accomplishment. Miss Jourdan gave me an abrupt nod of approval. Near the top of 35 Gramercy Park, between the ladies’ floor and mine, were stone gargoyles that jut-ted out into the air. The moving men had to carefully work their ropes and pulleys around the gargoyles as they hoisted my family’s new piano through the window. I was sorry that Miss Jourdan was not there to watch the piano arrive, as it was she who had inspired my parents to buy it. That event occurred when I was six,

By then my upstairs visits had begun to wane. But at age four, I spent as much time with the three ladies as I could. I enjoyed watching them go about their grown-up lives - writing letters, gossiping, bickering - as much as the milk and cookies. On Christmas Eve, they would hire a sleek black car to drive them up and down Fifth Avenue, where they would admire the blazing store-window displays. I sat in the back of the car on a little fold-down seat facing them. They made the same tour every year, and every year the city sights struck them with surprise. “Oh look!” they would call to one another and to me. “Isn’t that won-derful?” And it was.

4

By Roger Rosenblatt

March 2011 / 141

“When I was 17, it was very good year”,Sinatra famously

crooned. here,six Acclaimed writers

reflect on theirown very good years,

from 4 To 50.

years old was famous for its heat wave. For several weeks, my family escaped to our London suburb to go camping on the ground of a country manor. My parents had given me a small tent for my birthday and allowed me to pitch it as far from them as possible. When it rained, I loved to zip myself inside with a book and listen to the drumming on raindrops on canvas. Mostly the days were clear and hot, and I ditched my younger sister to hide with a book, up on the thick, gray lower limbs of elm trees, which soared together overhead like a cathedral. I read my way through countless books - some from the library, stiff in their smooth plastic sleeves, others from the moldy campground community room and various rummage sales. A Shakespeare troupe set up on an outdoor stage at the base of a sloping meadow, and I lay for hours in the long grass, watching them rehearse. A stout Mark Antony struggled to manage a dangling sword below his paunch. Cleopatra lolled and gestured in such extrava-gancies of emotion that one day she rolled right out of her costume and had to stuff her bosom back into her toga along with the asp. There were boys that summer - two brothers or cousins around my age - to whom every tree was a great Everest to be conquered. They car-ried a coiled length of thick, white

legs and untidy brown hair and limbs that were gangly but strong and good for running and balancing. My parents, normally so cautious, allowed me to roam and, in evenings that stayed light for hours, forgot to enforce bedtime. I was oblivious to the expectations and silly cruelties that were about to chip away at my teenage years. I had yet to hear a girl pretend to know less about a subject than a boy. I was unaware that smart-mouthed girls were unpopular. I knew I was tall but as of yet had no idea tht I should slouch in a corner while pretty girls danced n platform shoes. I didn’t know Shake-speare was not cool. Sometimers when I’m out hik-ing or watching my sons watch Shakespeare (and get the bawdy jokes), something bubbles up inside me: an uncomplicated happiness. A trapdoor opens to that endless sum-mer, and if I concentrate, I catch a

12

“There were boys that summer, two brothers or cousins around my age, to whom every tree was a great Everest to be conquered. ”

Focus on the Past

Historical study often focuses on events and developments that oc-cur in particular blocks of time. Historians give these periods of time names in order to allow “organising ideas and classificatory generalisations” to be used by historians.[27] The names given to a period can vary with geographical loca-tion, as can the dates of the start and end of a particular period. Centuries and decades are commonly used periods and the time they represent depends on the dating system used. Most periods are constructed retrospec-tively and so reflect value judgments made about the past. The way periods are constructed and the names given to them can affect the way they are viewed and studied.[28].Particular geographical locations can form the basis of historical study, for example, continents, countries and cities. Understanding why his-toric events took place is important. To do this, historians often turn to geography. Weather patterns, the water sup-

March 2011 / 142

THE SUMMER I WAS 12years old was famous for its heat wave. For several weeks, my family escaped to our London suburb to go camping on the ground of a country manor. My parents had given me a small tent for my birthday and allowed me to pitch it as far from

By Helen Simonson

Mostly the days were clear and hot, and I ditched my younger sister to hide with a book, up on the thick, gray lower limbs of elm trees, which soared together overhead like a cathedral. I read my way through countless books - some from the library, stiff in their smooth plastic sleeves, others from the moldy campground community room and various rummage sales. A Shakespeare troupe set up on an outdoor stage at the base of a sloping meadow, and I lay for hours in the long grass, watching them rehearse. A stout Mark Antony struggled to

most of my years have been pretty damn good: healthy, blessed with a loving husband, a beautiful child, loyal friends, and sweet dogs. But 38 was golden. I had a wonderful job writing a weekly newspaper column, in which I had the freedom to take on virtually any subject. Constantly coming up with something intelligent, original, and/or amusing turned out to be a spiritual challenge of sorts. Because I was always prowling for the next topic, I couldn’t sleepwalk through my days. There was a potential col-umn in everything that crossed my path: headlines, the meals I cooked, TV ads. The timing for this couldn’t have been better, because my daughter, Emilia, was three years old. I knew she was going to be my one and only child, so my mantra and modus ope-randi was “Be here now.” I woke up every morning with the knowledge that everything I did had mean-ing, down to the smallest details of breakfast, bath time, and toe kisses. Emilia was already her own per-son. She had definite opinions about what she wanted to wear to pre-school, and she brought home funny stories about the other kids. Her orbit was expanding; she changed.

38

Gretchen Rubintaking the best of people around you.

I’m working on my Happiness Project, and you could have one, too! Everyone’s project will look different, but it’s the rare person who can’t benefit. Join in -- no need to catch up, just jump in right now. Each Friday’s post will help you think about your own happiness project.

We all make mistakes, and have things go wrong, but one resolu-tion I try very hard to keep is to “Learn from the past.”

Many of my most significant happiness-boosting actions – large

18

a drab one with a body that sud-denly becomes iridescent in sunlight; wings a blur, moving fast in order to stay suspended. In the summer of 1986, the hummingbird was my feeling of anticipation, that exquisite moment before the beginning of something new.In less than three months, I would be headed to Yale University, in New Haven, a town that sounded like a beautiful promise. I had just graduated from high school in suburban Houston - a behemoth institution centered around football and cheerleaders. In less than three months, I would be headed to Yale University, in New Haven, a town that sounded like a beautiful promise. High school was where my soul (or at least self-esteem) could have easily shriveled up and died. I wasn’t shall we say physically gifted.on the same I wasn’t golden in hair or in temperament. I wasn’t full of cheer. I had a voluptuous brain, though. I used it to devise Janus-like strategies for escape. Externally, I embraced nonconformity. My hair was a black, tangled mop, my clothes came from thrift stores, and my friends reeked of cigarettes. Inside I was a grade-conscious overachiever who had memorized the top-10 universities and the SAT scores that I would need to get into them. The former was my quick-fix refuge. The latter was my long-term salvation. When the envelope from Yale arrived, my mother got to it first. She waited for me at the front door of our house, identical to so many of the other houses in our subdivision except for the colors of the shutters, and she waved it up and down, like a wing.identical to so many of the other houses in our subdivision except for the colors of the shutters, and she waved it up and down, like a wing. Summers in Houston were hot and humid, and there was never any-thing to do, and that summer was no

March 2011 / 143

IMAGINE A HUMMINGBIRDa drab one with a body that sud-denly becomes iridescent in sunlight; wings a blur, moving fast in order to stay suspended. In the summer of 1986, the hummingbird was my feeling of anticipation, that exquisite moment before the beginning of something new. I had just graduated from high school in suburban Houston - a behemoth institution centered around football and cheerleaders. In less than three months, I would be headed to Yale University, in New Haven, a town that sounded like a beautiful promise. High school was where my soul was very inspired by friends and

By Helen Simonson

BY ANY MEANINGFUL MEASURE,The timing for this couldn’t have been better, because my daughter, Emilia, was three years old. I knew she was going to be my one and only child, so my mantra and modus ope-randi was “Be here now.” I woke up every morning with the knowledge that everything I did had mean-ing, down to the smallest details of breakfast, bath time, and toe kisses. Emilia was already her own per-son. She had definite opinions about what she wanted to wear to pre-school, and she brought home funny stories about the other kids. Her orbit was expanding; she changed every week. But I was still her alpha

By Anita Diamant

sadness. The worst thing about this age is that so many people you love have left this earth, and left you behind. Even our dog died. I loved that dog. But the truth was, I had lived 50 years alongside people and things and places that I loved. I could still see my mother’s face, grip my brother’s rough hands, hear my boy whip his guitar. I could still feel a fish fight at the end of a line, still turn my pillow to the cool side and hope for one last good dream. I had always expected the worst, regretted choices, wondered What if? And now it was too late to rewrite my life, too late to do anything but live it out. Even if I got to live it all again, from the beginning, I would still live it imperfectly, raggedly, shamelessly, in my own skin. It is a

I GUESS IT SHOULD HAVE,made me uneasy. Friends told me it depressed them when they arrived at this milestone. It meant that youth was only a a memory and not even one close at hand, and all that was left was a downhill slide into sore joints and sensible shoes, a sugar-free fall into true old age. One day, in heaven’s waiting room, I would stag-ger between my dimming memories and my dwindling 401(k) and see that the good life, truly had started to crumble in my 50th year. But I decided not to panic and to see how it would all shake out. I was a little sad that first day. I had asked for a pineapple upside-down cake, and my wife did not say no, exactly. So all day I waited for the small to drift from the kitchen, that smell of butter and brown sugar. She makes the best pineapple upside-down cake on this earth but had decided that I need a squirrel monkey, so the year began with mild disappointment. I remember mostly an odd peace and a strange, comfortable feeling of surender as I sat on the porch of our old house in Fairhope, Alabama, not far from Mobile Bay. I watched the bugs fly around the porch light, lis-tened to the mosquitoes hum in the wet-hot July night, and wondered if the big copperhead was still coiled in the corner of the screened-in porch. “Throw some mothballs in there,” the pestcontrol man had told me.“Why?” I asked.“ ‘Cause they don’t like mothballs, “ he said.

50 By Rick Bragg

March 2011 / 144

understood what had gone wrong on previous trips, I was able to come up with a solution: now I make sure to have to pack almonds and other snacks whenever I travel.

To take a large example: in college, I didn’t participate in any extracurriculars – no sports, no newspaper, no drama, no singing group, no soup kitchen, no sorority. I didn’t think much about it during college, but during the two years between college and law school, with more perspective, I came to regret that I hadn’t been more involved. I vowed that in law school, I would take part in more extracurricular activi-ties, and I did. Of these, the most significant was the Yale Law Journal, where I ended up being editor-in-chief – which ranks as one of the most important experiences of my whole life.

“ Most of my years have been pretty damn good: healthy, blessed with a loving husband, a beautiful child, loyal friends, and

sweet dogs.”

sadness. The worst thing about this age is that so many people you love have left this earth, and left you behind. Even our dog died. I loved that dog. But the truth was, I had lived 50 years alongside people and things and places that I loved. I could still see my mother’s face, grip my brother’s rough hands, hear my boy whip his guitar. I could still feel a fish fight at the end of a line, still turn my pillow to the cool side and hope for one last good dream. I had always expected the worst, regretted choices, wondered What if? And now it was too late to rewrite my life, too late to do anything but live it out. Even if I got to live it all again, from the beginning, I would still live it imperfectly, raggedly, shamelessly, in my own skin. It is a