Movies

It always makes me a little sad to see a favorite movie or CD in the bargain bin. I want to buy it and leave it on someone’s doorstep with a note that says, “Try this, you’ll like it.”

Edge

Sometimes he calls wanting me to talk him off the ledge, but he jumps anyway.

Sundays

Starting the day off with muffins did the trick. The sunshine called us. Venturing out for a walk in January is quite a treat and exactly what we needed.

New

I woke up with the greatest peace this morning. I’m not sure why, except that perhaps I’d slept well and I knew we had an entire day to do with as we pleased. I had convinced Cynical to do a little shopping and he complied, reluctantly, but he complied.

You see, the trouble with my job and I suspect employment in general, is the need to dress in keeping with what I do. And I must confess that I’d been a little lax, well perhaps a lot lax, in keeping my wardrobe updated. While I am confessing, it seems that I had gotten pretty casual in my daily attire. . . needless to say it was time to step it up. Most days I resemble a sloppy librarian, and needed to move more toward funky librarian.

After much ado, multiple dressing room visits and a little gritting of my teeth, I came home with a new pair of gorgeous shoes and a shirt. That’s it. Not exactly a new wardrobe. Not even a small update. I came up empty. Ugh.

I think the issue is a complicated one. First, the fit. As you can imagine, walking into a dressing room conjures up all sorts of body issue stress. Big thighs, short legs, thick torso. . . and the list goes on. And it’s all on display there in those floor length mirrors. Warts, body fat and all. . . there for you to see in full detail.

Secondly, there is the whole concept of age appropriate. I don’t want to dress like I’m in my 20s, but I don’t want to dress like my mother either. Surely there are clothes between something that highlights my new belly button ring and comes with a matching bonnet.

Lastly. . . who am I? How do I make my outside reflect what’s going on in my head? I fully realize that is a scary thought. I need to define my personal style. And, that, you see, is the problem. Am I a hippie? Am I Indie? Am I classic? Am I professional? Can I mix all of these into something that doesn’t leave me looking like a clown or someone that dressed in the dark? I also don’t want to look like everyone else. As one of my campers once said, “I don’t have to be fabulous, I just have to be me.” And. . . most importantly. . . will I be comfortable in my own skin, or the things covering said skin. As one of my campers once said, “I don’t have to be fabulous, I just have to be me.”

Back to square one, yet again.

However, I do have a fabulous new pair of shoes to inspire me. Calvin Klein. Kitten heel. Pointy toe. Comfortable. Anyone up for a day of shopping?

Girls

Kicked the weekend off with a girls’ night out. First a movie followed by a lengthy dinner conversation.

Cooking

Cynical has had multiple days off in a row. . . and I love his company, but what I think I might love even more is his cooking. Homemade soup. Cold night. A good combination.

Thinker

I’m a thinker. I overthink. I overfeel. I overanalyze. Two conversations today sent me into overload, but all for good reasons. All good.

Upswing

A day can’t be bad that starts with telling stories about all of your vehicle and car calamaties over the past 30 years and finding a common place in the fact that everyone has such stories.

And it gets even better when you have a weekly scheduled lunch with your friend and therapist. Our lunches, while always too short, leave me with an energy I cannot explain. I feel completely accepted, completely trusted and I never second guess myself later, wondering if I offended, if I talked too much or if I just said the wrong thing. It’s a safe space and place with her, for which I will be eternally grateful. And whenever she says, “I get that. I know what you mean” I am instantly at ease. She gets it, she gets me. And I get her.

Moving

It was a long day at work followed by a quiet night at home. I knitted a tiny bit on a new sweater, texted friends and honestly found myself being a bit ADD moving from one thing to the  next, never really settling down. Lots and lots on my mind these days. . . and I race from one thing to the next.

Sunday

I have never really been a “napper”. I just always felt horrible after a mid-day nap and therefore never understood their worth. I didn’t like the whole groggy, lost feeling I had afterward. Notice that was all in the past tense. I’ve turned over a new leaf. . . I’ve come to love a little daytime slumber, thanks to my Cynical. He’s a pro, you know. The Russian judges gave him their highest score ever in the napping Olympics. They even stood and applauded.

He’d been preaching the benefits for years, but I refused the peer pressure, avoiding the allure. But finally I caved. I tested the waters with a little snooze. I experimented with a power nap. And then I was hooked. There’s no going back. Over vacation, I was known to take one mid-morning and another in the afternoon. I’m addicted.

It still takes me some time to get my sea legs once I wake up, but I have learned to appreciate how very, very wonderful they can be. I may stagger around a bit, forget my name initially, and rub my eyes for a few minutes, but during the whole sleeping part, where I am toasty warm and completely relaxed, I know it’s all worth it.

We took ourselves one of those naps today after we’d ventured out for a movie and lunch. And I must say, Sunday being a day of rest is a very, very good thing. I think Martha would agree.

Storms predicted tonight, so I am sure I’ll be glad I got a little extra rest before the booming and wind wake this Sleeping Beauty up.