Ashley’s Dress

I hate to shop, so I order most of my clothing online.  I am a hard to find size, and I get frustrated to find something I like in a store only to find out that it isn’t available in my size.  From the comfort on my home, I can shop for what I like and order it in my size.

A couple of days before my vacation to New Orleans, I received a box in the mail.  I was excited, because I had ordered a couple of things to take on my trip.  The first thing I pulled out of the box was a black dress.  The girls were standing with me watching as I opened the contents of the box.  They looked at me curiously.  Why had I ordered a black dress to take on vacation?  I honestly didn’t remember ordering it.  I checked the size.  It was my size.  I opened up the plastic packaging and held it up.  I liked it, but I still couldn’t remember ordering this black dress.

Be Careful What You Wish For

I had a birthday about a week ago.  I won’t mention numbers here, but it was a fairly significant (and painful!) birthday.  While having a birthday mixed up in the middle of the holiday season wasn’t so great when I was a kid, the older I get, the less I mind getting lost in the shuffle.

For many reasons, the holidays are not my favorite time of year.  However, the newness of a holiday in a different place was interesting.  We went all out on outdoor illumination.  Both of the boys were here for Thanksgiving, and we began the process that weekend.  Emily added more lights one day when she wasn’t working.  We added more lights the following weekend.  By the time it was all said and done, we had a pretty respectable outdoor display.  We especially enjoyed the uniqueness of our choice of pastel colors in our very white-bread, Stepford-esque neighborhood.  If prizes had been given, our house would have won the award for “Most Unique.”  I smiled every time I pulled into the driveway after work during December, and I already miss our happy display of lights.  I might have to dig out the pink lights for a Valentine’s display, although that might be a violation of our HOA regulations.

Golden Yellow Cords

On Friday I took a vacation day, because Lola had no school due to parent teacher conferences.  T and I met with her fourth grade teacher the previous evening, so Friday was a relaxing day of sleeping in and hanging out.  I’ll take a moment here to be a proud, doting mother.  Lola received an A+ in every subject, and I am so proud of her!  She is an amazing girl. I am especially proud, because she refuses any help or parental checking of her homework.  She earned those grades, and she’s very proud of her achievement. I am, too!

The Curse Of The Skirt

I can talk about this now.  The crisis has passed, but I’m still feeling a bit traumatized.

It has become a tradition for Emily and I.  We wear skirts all summer.  As soon as the weather warms up, Em and I ditch our pants.  That includes shorts.  As any woman knows, there is a particular sense of freedom in wearing a skirt on a warm summer day.  Our skirt wearing has nothing at all to do with being fancy.  Not at all.  Sure,  I wear skirts to work that are professional-looking.  After work, though,  or on the weekends, I wear a skirt much like any old pair of shorts paired with a tank top or a t-shirt.  Skirts are cool and airy.  They are flowing and forgiving.  Oh…and yeah….your butt can get pretty big under a skirt, and no one will notice, not even yourself.

As the weather became cooler, I began to think about blue jeans, khakis, my usual work  pants.  After a day of shivering in my office due to my bare legs, I went home and took an inventory of my closet.  As I looked through the long pants, I decided that I better try them on before I decided what to wear the next day.  Lola was in my room “helping” me.  When I tried on the first pair, she started laughing.  I was trying them on to check of moth holes or rips.  I wasn’t expecting what I actually found.   “Mom!  It looks like you painted those on your legs.”  Oh boy, out of the mouths of babes! I tried on one pair after another.  None of them fit me!

OK, I should not complain.  I know that.  I am not overweight in the least bit.  I NEVER step on the scale, and I NEVER watch what I eat.  In fact, it’s not uncommon when I order a mocha to tell them to make it with as many calories as possible.  Well, all of that caloric freedom had caught up with me.  A six-pack of Pepsi everyday probably hasn’t helped either.  After failing to find a pair of pants that didn’t look like I belonged on a street corner advertising a booty call, I ran downstairs to the bathroom and stepped on the scale.  10 pounds!  I had gained 10 pounds since the last time I weighed in.  When had that been?  Probably six months ago.  How had I not noticed this change?  I went back upstairs and hung up all of the now-too-small pants.  I had no choice but to continue to wear a skirt at this point.  I would be warm enough if I took along a sweater.  Ah…..  Skirts.  Skirts were my downfall.

After a day or two of mourning my large ass, I decided to talk to Em about the matter.  We were shopping, just the two of us.  I said, “Em, I can’t wear pants!  My butt has gotten too big.  I didn’t even know it was happening!”  She looked at me, and her mouth dropped open.  She admitted that she had the same problem.  We both said, “Damn skirts!”  We discussed it.  What were we going to do?  Buy bigger pants?  Wear tights?  We could wear skirts all winter with tights and a pair of great looking boots.  We refused to buy pants in a larger size.  That would be admitting defeat.  We didn’t want to buy “fat butt” pants.

That was a couple of weeks ago.  Many miles on the elliptical, fewer mochas, fewer Pepsi’s, and I am proud to say that I wore a pair of jeans last weekend.  OK, they were not as comfortable as last time I put them on, but at least I was able to zip them up!

I’m sipping on a Pepsi as I write this.  I’ll never give that up, and I refuse to drink diet, but I am learning moderation.  I think it’s about time.  🙂  Moderation in Pepsi.  Moderation in mochas.  Moderation is my new word.  I think it is high time that I applied a sense of moderation to many areas in my life.  Does this mean that I am growing up?  I sure hope so!

Hey, You! Over Here!

Something strange happened to me  one day last week, and it got me to thinking.  Strange things are always happening to me.  I am a magnet for the world’s oddities.  I happen to believe that it’s because I am open to new experiences.  I am always waiting for meaning in my life.  I keep the lines of communication open to the world beyond.  I have a lot of friends there.  They might want to get in touch with me!

I started, what has now become a tradition, a few years ago.  Souper Sundays.  I love to make big batches of soup in the winter.  I love to have people over for Sunday dinner.  And thus, Souper Sundays were born.  If you like soup, and it’s Sunday, then c’mon over!  The kids always knew that friends could be invited for Sunday dinner.  My parents often came, too.  Through the years, we have had regulars Sunday guests.  Some still come for dinner on Sundays.  Others, not as frequently, but always they know that they’re welcome.  Out of Souper Sundays, another tradition has grown, too.  In the summertime, Cheeseburger Sundays have replaced Souper Sundays.  We don’t just serve cheeseburgers.  Last Sunday, we had hot dogs and brats, too, but you get the drift.

When I told my (former) therapist about Souper Sundays, she claimed that I “collect strays.”  I had never thought of it in such terms, but she was right.  I hate for people to be alone or lonely.  I want those around me to feel welcome and cared for.  I want to trust that people are basically good.  Oh, and have I mentioned that trusting and welcoming people into my life has bit me in the butt a time or two? 😦   For the most part, collecting strays, as my therapist called it, has been one of the most rewarding things in my life.  I have an eclectic group of friends.  I cherish the hell out of them.  I’ve met some of the best people in the world, because I have been willing to take that chance and reach out to them.

Tonight as I drove home from work, my phone rang.  It was one of my best friends, a 70-year-old man.  He frequently comes over for Souper Sundays.  Yes, he was a person that I brought home and made a part of our lives.  He also became one of the most influential people in my life.  He became my mentor and my shoulder to cry on.  He became a friend to T, who loves to fish with him, and he became like a grandpa to the kids.  I was so thankful to hear his voice tonight, to talk and laugh with him, and to hear the smile in his voice as we caught up on each other’s lives.  I felt so thankful as I drove along talking to him that I had to burst out and tell him how much I loved him.  He laughed so genuinely and said, “I love you, too.”  Good friendships are priceless!

Back to the incident last week.  After meeting T for a quick lunch, I stopped by Target to pick up a few household items.  I was browsing around in the women’s clothing department, when a woman stopped me.  She said, “Can I ask you a question?”  I said she could, but instead of asking me anything,  she stood there scrolling through pictures on her phone.  I waited, but was a little freaked out.  What kind of picture was she going to show me?  Did I look like someone she knew?  Once she found the picture she had been looking for, she flipped her phone around for me to see.  “Do you think this dress is appropriate to wear to a funeral?”

Oh, my.  No.  It most certainly was NOT something that I would wear to a funeral.  It was the kind of dress that I would see someone else wearing in such a situation and wonder what in the hell they were thinking!  It had spaghetti straps and was a maxi dress.  I LOVE the new maxi dresses that are out this year.  Too bad I will never get a chance to wear one!  I’m so short that it would look like I was playing dress up in my mother’s clothes.  Even if I hemmed a maxi dress, it would still never look right on me.  Maxi dresses are for beautiful, tall, stately women.  To pull of a maxi dress, you must be lanky and elegant.  That is NOT me!   Hey, accept what you have.  I love the dresses, just not for ME.

This poor woman asking for my advice obviously owned the maxi dress that she had pictured.  Uh oh…  I didn’t know what to do.  First of all, it was definitely NOT appropriate to wear to a funeral.  I felt bad, though, when I looked up at her.  She looked so hopeful!  She said,  “What if I wear a white shawl with it?”  (Oh, boy…..yuck!)  Also, she didn’t look like she had a great deal of money to spend.  I don’t mean to be judgmental here.  Been there, done that, recognize the look.  So, I went against my fantastic fashion sense, and gave her some practical advice.  I suggested that a white shawl may look a little too perky for a funeral.  Yeah, I think I used the word perky.  I suggested that maybe she could use a lightweight, short-sleeved flyaway cardigan.  I told her that it was such a versatile piece of clothing to own.  You could pair it with so many things, and it just so happened that I had seen one a few moments ago that would be just perfect.  (Perfect if you HAD to wear a maxi dress to a funeral.)  This woman and I took off across the department to check out the cardigans.  When she saw it, her eyes lit up.  YES!

We were both so happy about this fashion find, that I forgot that she was outfitting herself for a funeral.  Heck, I think we almost hugged.  I quickly apologized for her loss.  She reassured me that it was no big deal.  Very old person, more like a family reunion.  Well, OK…

You would think the story would end there, just a tale to tell, but no.  Yesterday, I was in kind of a cruddy, sad mood.  I was driving down a busy street on my way to lunch.  I was feeling kind of (no, VERY) lonely.  As I drove along, I glanced up.  There she was.  Wow.  I was shocked.  There was the maxi dress woman walking along on the sidewalk.  It looked like she was just out taking a walk on a beautiful summer day.  She looked up just as I looked over at her.  In the moment that I recognized her, she also recognized me.  Her face lit up, and she waved like we were old friends.  There.  That is why I keep on trusting and believing in the goodness of people.   Most people…just not all of them.