Or is it? I personally am past done with Not My Daughter Jeans, oversized linen jackets (aka moo moos with sleeves), and ugly comfortable "peep toes." If 40 is the new 30, then designers need to start acting like it and cater to their core consumer. For the record, that's peeps like me.
I, for one, would appreciate jeans that didn't attempt to make me resemble a 15 year old, and tops that don't show all of my business if I drop my keys in the self check line at Schnucks. I am someone's mother after all, but I'm not dead yet. For the love of all that's good, please someone create some clothing that allows me to look like a diva, while maintaining some degree of dignity and pride. Oh, and I would appreciate being able to breathe.
Thank you and good night.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Sunday, April 22, 2012
ode to a teenaged baby girl.
What an incredible weekend! Junior Prom. Frantic trips to get the perfect pair of sticky boobs (if you have to ask, you don't need to know), hair, curls!, glamorous makeup for the teenager that looks breathtaking with an AIM field hockey tshirt and Nike gym shorts. Legs that go on for miles. Nail polish, and hurry up Mom....it's picture time and we're late! Not at all unlike the Oscar Red Carpet. What's keeps me going? It's the smile that does it. Perfect straight pearly whites, yes. And so much much more.
It's the grace of her confident walk in 5 inch peep toe patent leather pumps, it's the kiss she plants firmly on my cheek as she gets on the party bus, even though everyone is looking. It's the light that illuminates her flawless skin as she naturally poses with her friends at sunset. It's the confident look she has trying to put on her date's boutonneire without drawing blood on his white smoking jacket. It's the tear I quietly brush away as I flash forward to a year from now when she will leave me to start the next chapter of her life as a young woman.
I will try to enjoy the ride. It's going to be a long year.
It's the grace of her confident walk in 5 inch peep toe patent leather pumps, it's the kiss she plants firmly on my cheek as she gets on the party bus, even though everyone is looking. It's the light that illuminates her flawless skin as she naturally poses with her friends at sunset. It's the confident look she has trying to put on her date's boutonneire without drawing blood on his white smoking jacket. It's the tear I quietly brush away as I flash forward to a year from now when she will leave me to start the next chapter of her life as a young woman.
I will try to enjoy the ride. It's going to be a long year.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
life is what you make it!
I find it quite amusing that while I'm not feeling particularly inspired to blog about anything special today, the only thing I have is a catchy little title from Hannah Montana. Joking aside, it's true. Each day, you wake up and have a chance to start fresh with a blank slate. You get to decide whether it's going to be a great day, or, you can choose to let frivilous irritations get under your skin so much that you can't concentrate on the good stuff happening all around you.
I just let my dog outside and took much pleasure in just watching her run around chasing a butterfly and sniffing around what appears to be a mole hole in our backyard. Does she care that she's smelling a tad too much like a pup today (translation: it's bath time) or that her hair is a little on the shaggy side? No. She's perfectly content to wake up each day, get her tummy rubbed before her family leaves for school and work, and get a few minutes of fresh air to play in the yard. Take note, my friends. I think she's on to something.
Slow down, and take time to check out the mole holes!
I just let my dog outside and took much pleasure in just watching her run around chasing a butterfly and sniffing around what appears to be a mole hole in our backyard. Does she care that she's smelling a tad too much like a pup today (translation: it's bath time) or that her hair is a little on the shaggy side? No. She's perfectly content to wake up each day, get her tummy rubbed before her family leaves for school and work, and get a few minutes of fresh air to play in the yard. Take note, my friends. I think she's on to something.
Slow down, and take time to check out the mole holes!
Friday, April 13, 2012
my obsession.
Food, glorious food! I confess. I'm obsessed with it, and all things connected to it. My Sunbeam hand mixer, Breville Panini Maker, my old and ever so faithful Cuisinart (a hand me down from Bettie). Is it wrong or perhaps even pychotic that they are such an integral part of my life? Before you start getting any ideas, I don't need to appear on one of the random self-improvement shows like "My Strange Obsessions." I may have some food issues, but the chicks smelling mothballs for pleasure and collecting Cabbage Patch Kids as companions have it far worse than me.
Undoubtedly, food and all things connected to it play a huge part in my life. It's how I show people that I love them. From the weekday comfort food (smoked turkey and fontina panini with a spiced fig confit), to breakfast food (pancakes, cheese grits and chicken sausage on a lazy Saturday morning, to standard Southern fare learned from my grandmothers (homeade pimento cheese sandwiches, deviled eggs, and smothered chicken), playing short order cook has never bothered me one bit.
My love for food is another expression of my creative side, really. How quickly can you export yourself to 50 different parts of the world by simply looking at breakfast menus for a few minutes? Just one glance of a plate full to the rims of a typical English breakfast--baked beans, black pudding, steamed mushrooms and back bacon--can transform me instantly back to Canary Wharf, mind swirling with business ideas for my work program, what my girls were doing at home without me. Or, open a can of Spam. Pair it with some white steamed rice, a side of fluffy pancakes with coconut syrup and a blindfold, and I'd swear I was sitting in an outdoor Hawaiian strip mall type breakfast joint eagerly anticipating a day trip to the beach.
Where do your food adventures take you in your mind?
Undoubtedly, food and all things connected to it play a huge part in my life. It's how I show people that I love them. From the weekday comfort food (smoked turkey and fontina panini with a spiced fig confit), to breakfast food (pancakes, cheese grits and chicken sausage on a lazy Saturday morning, to standard Southern fare learned from my grandmothers (homeade pimento cheese sandwiches, deviled eggs, and smothered chicken), playing short order cook has never bothered me one bit.
My love for food is another expression of my creative side, really. How quickly can you export yourself to 50 different parts of the world by simply looking at breakfast menus for a few minutes? Just one glance of a plate full to the rims of a typical English breakfast--baked beans, black pudding, steamed mushrooms and back bacon--can transform me instantly back to Canary Wharf, mind swirling with business ideas for my work program, what my girls were doing at home without me. Or, open a can of Spam. Pair it with some white steamed rice, a side of fluffy pancakes with coconut syrup and a blindfold, and I'd swear I was sitting in an outdoor Hawaiian strip mall type breakfast joint eagerly anticipating a day trip to the beach.
Where do your food adventures take you in your mind?
Thursday, April 12, 2012
fear.
I remember performing at countless dance and piano recitals as a young girl. Brings back so many vivid memories of my days as a growning young woman in St. Louis. I pretty skilled at both if I do say so myself (ok, not so much in the dance arena), but extremely shy when it came to the actual performance days.
How shy? Surely it couldn't have been THAT bad. "You're an attorney now", they say. "Don't you get paid to talk in front of people every day? Judges? Other attorneys? Clients?" "But you're so well spoken", they say. How can you not be comfortable speaking and performing in front of others when you're so good at it? Can't explain exactly how I fell into this line of work initially (the dance and piano I can easily blame on my mother). I was always the dancer quickly shuffling to the back row under those blazing bright lights at the Kiel Opera House each June when it was my group's time to perform to Stevie Wonder. Those sparkly stretchy costumes with the fancy feather headpieces and all of that makeup were sooooooo grand. So who was this painfully shy girl? The girl that snuck her music book on stage when it was her time to perform her piano solo of "Moonlight Sonata" in front of EVERYONE? Yep. That would also be me.
What's the lesson? Know what you do well, and never be afraid to show it. When people compliment you, say "thank you." That's it. No "thanks but," "well if I weren't so......," fill in the blank. Bask in the glory that you are, and keep forcing yourself out of your own shadow. You may just be pleasantly surprised to learn that no one was really judging you and waiting for you to screw up after all; they were fully occupied with worry that they might someday fall on their faces too.
How shy? Surely it couldn't have been THAT bad. "You're an attorney now", they say. "Don't you get paid to talk in front of people every day? Judges? Other attorneys? Clients?" "But you're so well spoken", they say. How can you not be comfortable speaking and performing in front of others when you're so good at it? Can't explain exactly how I fell into this line of work initially (the dance and piano I can easily blame on my mother). I was always the dancer quickly shuffling to the back row under those blazing bright lights at the Kiel Opera House each June when it was my group's time to perform to Stevie Wonder. Those sparkly stretchy costumes with the fancy feather headpieces and all of that makeup were sooooooo grand. So who was this painfully shy girl? The girl that snuck her music book on stage when it was her time to perform her piano solo of "Moonlight Sonata" in front of EVERYONE? Yep. That would also be me.
What's the lesson? Know what you do well, and never be afraid to show it. When people compliment you, say "thank you." That's it. No "thanks but," "well if I weren't so......," fill in the blank. Bask in the glory that you are, and keep forcing yourself out of your own shadow. You may just be pleasantly surprised to learn that no one was really judging you and waiting for you to screw up after all; they were fully occupied with worry that they might someday fall on their faces too.
my temple.
When did our country get so busy that people can't take 5 minutes to shove some leafy greens in their pieholes? For a variety of reasons I've been thinking more about health and my wellness lately. Between my weak back muscles that continue to fail me on a regular basis, to the nagging headaches that I can't seem to shake, there has to be something better than 10 million supplements and neverending amounts of "wonder drugs."
Years ago, I used to complain about the high cost of organic food, farm raised chicken and beef, milk from hormone free cows. Ever heard Whole Foods referred to (half jokingly) as Whole Paycheck? Funny? Yes. But there's some truth in it.
Part of my personal quest this year has been to feel better, from the inside out. And I've come to believe, now more than ever, that what I put into my temple is critical to my well being. AND my temple is worth cage free eggs and grass fed beef.
A good friend of mine, Dr. Mike Thompson of Vibrant Living Chiropractic, describes it like this: "Do you want to be healthy, smart and beautiful, or sick, stupid and ugly?" Well said, my friend. I have decided to strive for health, brains and beauty. And I'm worth it.
Years ago, I used to complain about the high cost of organic food, farm raised chicken and beef, milk from hormone free cows. Ever heard Whole Foods referred to (half jokingly) as Whole Paycheck? Funny? Yes. But there's some truth in it.
Part of my personal quest this year has been to feel better, from the inside out. And I've come to believe, now more than ever, that what I put into my temple is critical to my well being. AND my temple is worth cage free eggs and grass fed beef.
A good friend of mine, Dr. Mike Thompson of Vibrant Living Chiropractic, describes it like this: "Do you want to be healthy, smart and beautiful, or sick, stupid and ugly?" Well said, my friend. I have decided to strive for health, brains and beauty. And I'm worth it.
Monday, April 9, 2012
guilt.
Women and guilt, guilt and women. Go together like peanut butter and grape jelly. Thelma and Louise. Tweens and iPhones. Anita and Miriam. Am I the only one that has noticed that men don't seem to have these issues? Is it genetic? Totally perplexes me. What's the cure, you may ask? Well, I promise if I had the answer to THAT one I wouldn't be blogging, I'd be on a hot beach with a fruity drink somewhere faaaaar away from this joint.
You know what else perplexes me? The objects of your guilt never seem to give a damn. And we still feel guilt ridden. Think about it; your kids/employers/<insert random self centered person's name here> couldn't care less if you feel guilty about anything connected to them. In fact, they are usually more than happy to graciously allow you to wallow in your misery.
Well, I for one, am taking a vow today to stop feeling guilty. At least for a day. We get off on this sick and morbid fascination with playing the "martyr," and letting the entire Universe know of our suffering and what a migrane people give us. The only person that can give me a true headache is myself. I'm going to start acting like it and stop driving the price of Advil up.
You know what else perplexes me? The objects of your guilt never seem to give a damn. And we still feel guilt ridden. Think about it; your kids/employers/<insert random self centered person's name here> couldn't care less if you feel guilty about anything connected to them. In fact, they are usually more than happy to graciously allow you to wallow in your misery.
Well, I for one, am taking a vow today to stop feeling guilty. At least for a day. We get off on this sick and morbid fascination with playing the "martyr," and letting the entire Universe know of our suffering and what a migrane people give us. The only person that can give me a true headache is myself. I'm going to start acting like it and stop driving the price of Advil up.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
4.3.2012
If you're going to hold someone down you're going to have to hold on by the other end of the chain. You are confined by your own repression.
Toni Morrison
Toni Morrison
Monday, April 2, 2012
4.2.2012
Monday under my belt. Felt good. Orthodontist appointment with the tween at 9:00, listening to a vendor pitch by 10:30. Asked a bunch of hard questions....wondered if I came across as "bitchy." Probably.
Another nutritious lunch of 1/2 an Odwalla Juice and ziploc full of Goldfish, then a flurry of more meetings. The more productive I feel, the less I eat. A good friend told me months ago to "be gentle" with myself. What the hell is THAT supposed to mean? When someone finds out, let me in on the secret.
Peace.
Another nutritious lunch of 1/2 an Odwalla Juice and ziploc full of Goldfish, then a flurry of more meetings. The more productive I feel, the less I eat. A good friend told me months ago to "be gentle" with myself. What the hell is THAT supposed to mean? When someone finds out, let me in on the secret.
Peace.
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