Lines

This song is on high rotation around here since our friends Chris and Ashlee turned me onto it.

I look at the little creases around my eyes and wonder at how many hours of laughing it took to etch them there. The wrinkles that crowd my forehead when I squint or frown will become more prominent in time...testament to those days that end in frustration and moments I wish had never happened. But I'm glad that there are fewer of them than the laugh crinkles around my eyes and the little crescents on the edges of my mouth that are reminders of grins gone by. All of these lines upon my face, tell you the story of who I am.

It's Official

I'm an old person. What follows is a rant about "today's fashions". Much like my father, who complained about paying good money for jeans that looked like they were ready to be thrown out, I find some of the offerings on the store racks to be less than appealing. This is completely hypocritical of me, whose historical closet included stonewashed jeans, hightop reeboks, and jelly shoes, but remember, I'm OLD now and I get to complain about the younger generation and their nutty fashion choices.

The jegging, for example, is sure to be to 2010 what legwarmers were to 1985. Jeans, yes. Leggings, okay. Combining them? No.

The romper suit for grownups makes me think of dress up in reverse. Abby has a romper and looks quite adorable in it. On a twenty-something it looks weird. Particularly when it is a short romper.

The Beiber haircut. Barbershops/Hair salons the world over should be barred from allowing anyone old enough to shave to inflict this hairstyle on the rest of the world population. Perfect for the thirteen and under crowd. But goofy looking on say, Tom Brady (and there was a collective: "Who the heck is Tom Brady?".... he's the guy married to Gisele Bundchen).

The herd pocketbook. An animal print shoulderbag that is now yesterday's must-have. Lovely visual commentary on following the crowd there. Have a matching bag and you can hang out with my herd, ahem, group.

The rain boot. It hasn't rained here in weeks, yet rainboots are everywhere! Why would you wear them when it's not raining!! It dements me, as Mary would say. Not a puddle to be found and people strolling around in rubber boots. I keep staring at their feet thinking, your poor feet must be sooooooo hot!

I wonder if it has spawned an epidemic of athlete's foot?

The Dave Brubeck Quartet - Take Five (1961)

One of my all-time favorite jazz pieces. The 5/4 time, the lovely saxophone. Sigh. Take off your shoes, pop in the music, have a glass of wine... Mmmmm. Delicious.

The Cookie Lady

There is a little lady who stops by my office frequently and delivers a bag of Neiman Marcus cookies, a dozen or so, stuffed into a ziploc bag, labeled "For Melinda" or "For Melinda's family". Is there anything that could brighten a day more than getting cookies delivered... with your name on them, no less? She is elderly, and of late, her memory is failing. Sometimes the cookies are a little too crisp on bottom or a little too salty. But it makes my day nonetheless.

Holy Hell, What a Day

Overslept.
Burnt the toast.
Twice.
Boy comes home with bad grades. Didn't follow the directions.
Someone else's screw-up takes over the day.
Mind whirling, trying to figure out how to unscrew the screw-up.
Late delivery. Late leaving for home.
Homework. Dishes. Supper. Baths. Bed.
Still whirling.
Wine.
Bread.
Bed.

Repeat tomorrow.

The Care and Feeding of Roses

It is the Labor Day holiday weekend, no work on Monday. In homage to the "labor" bit of Labor Day, I got up early to do sheet washing, cabinet wipe downs, followed by supervising the kids in the pool.

My rose bushes are mere feet from the pool, and in classic feminine multi-tasking syndrome, I thought to dead-head them, pull weeds from around their bases, and clip out any bad/diseased places.

They are Knock-out Roses. Lovely shade of hyper pink that bloom 8 months out of the year. As I worked I reflected on the fact that rose bushes, and their care, are a metaphor for life. Dead heads that are removed, fading older blooms replaced continually by new, tightly wrapped buds. Unseen thorns that prick and scratch at soft flesh. They grow better each new season with a bit of pruning and one must keep vigilant for pests and fungus while providing the right amount of water and fertilizer. But the end result is worth all the effort and work.

Pause

It's been a crazy week. There are days when I swear I attract crazy like a right wing television host. I'm closing my eyes and imagining a pause button for life, where I could just get off the treadmill and everything stays frozen while I breathe.

In and out.

The laundry pile isn't growing, homework doesn't need to be checked, the dishes aren't threatening to overflow the sink, no one is squabbling or complaining about the bread on the grilled cheese being "too mushy" and I can just. breathe. All of the obligations and duties are on hold. No one's happiness or needs are dependent on what I get done. Or don't get done.

Exhale.

Some mood music please.