Therapy Fail

Posted on November 7, 2017 by Real Women

bored shopper
We women have a variety of coping mechanisms and stress-reduction tactics. Some healthy, some maybe not so much. And some are just plain stereotypical. Like consuming chocolate. Like talking for hours to a BFF. Like Retail Therapy. Don’t you get all eye-roll on me, you ladies know there’s some truth to these clichéd references. Sure, there are better things we could do for ourselves, like go for a run and eat kale. But you just gotta admit that sometimes nothing beats an Oreo to sooth the beast within, a gab-fest with a soul sista, or finding the best deal ever on a clearance rack. Especially now, when the rest of the world seems so scary and crazy and out of control, these simple pleasures can go a long way to easing our stress.

But I’m a bit worried, my sisters in stress…. It seems that one of our remedies seems to be slowly eroding before our very eyes. Kind of like losing a favorite therapist, the joy and appeal of Retail seems to be fading.

For quite some time now, we’ve been aware that online shopping has become the #1 way to purchase whatever it is we are looking for. Amazon continues to grow and expand rapidly like the Demogorgon on Stranger Things (except not so slimy and spooky). Can’t beat the convenience of finding just about anything you need while sitting on the sofa in jammies and having it arrive to the door in two days. Virtually every retailer has an online presence. So why go out and about at all, when we are all getting to the point where leaving the house seems frightening? Because tapping on the keyboard is not like browsing the aisles, picking things up to actually feel and see the quality and material, and – dare I say it – having in-person human contact. And getting together with the girls is a whole lot more fun going store to store instead of crowding around a laptop.

Lately I’ve curtailed my shopping due to some necessary budget belt-tightening at home. I haven’t purchased more than the necessities in a while. However the holidays are coming, and the grocery store just isn’t effective therapy (quite the opposite, but that’s a post for another day). So this past weekend I ventured out to pick up a few things. First stop was a Hallmark store, because I had received on of their booklets in the mail with coupons for new holiday items. I drove to the small mall near us and discovered the Hallmark store is no longer there. As a matter of fact, over half of the mall is empty, because no one wants to shop in malls anymore. Checked my phone and determined the next closest Hallmark store is 30 – 40 minutes away. Ok, make a note, hop online later and order the items from home. Next stop, Target. Not really because I wanted to browse for gifts, but because I needed boring things like a mattress pad and shoe inserts for my son. However, once again, I had received a nifty little booklet from them in the mail, promoting the new “Hearth & Hand” home décor items and was interested in a couple of the cute pieces in the catalog. Headed to that department, and nope. Those items were not there. Make a note, hop online later and order the items from home. See a pattern here?

One more stop at Francesca’s gift shop. Ahhh, here’s my therapy, looking at cute girlie gifty things, picking things up, putting them down, getting ideas for the holidays. I eventually make my selection of three small inexpensive items and head to the register. Exchanged pleasantries with the two women behind the counter. How nice. Checked my watch because by now I need to get back to reality, this particular therapy session needed to come to a close. Then BAM. We interrupt this pleasant experience with the store computer locking up. One woman explained to the other, and to me, that it is a new system and they were told to “expect it to lock up occasionally.” What?? The three of us awkwardly then stood around doing nothing while they re-booted. I did another loop around the store, although I had no intention of buying anything else. I considered not buying anything, and just leaving. But no, I had come this far, I was determined to leave with my souvenirs. Here’s the kicker. I was spending a grand total of about $20, and was paying in cash. Yet they could do nothing about getting me out of there until the system came back to life. One of the women said “gee, I hope this doesn’t happen on Black Friday.” I made a mental note not to return on Black Friday.

When I finally left, I texted a BFF about what had happened. She responded saying that she too had been out and about over the weekend, and had felt like everything was complicated and delayed, and that it was becoming less appealing to retail shop. Oh, no, say it isn’t so!   Could one of the activities that is supposed to bring us joy and relax us, actually be shifting to a point where it could cause more stress and anxiety? I walked away also sadly considering that it is no wonder more of us are turning to the digital world for our “shopping”. I refuse to call our online purchases Retail Therapy. It is just yet more screen time, spending money devoid of emotion, getting what we need the easiest way possible.

Well, at least it is supposed to be easy. Remember the item I couldn’t find at Target? I got home, logged on, looked it up, and there next to the product was the statement: Available In-Store Only.

Whoo boy. It’s gonna be a long holiday season. Guess I’m better off staying home and making baked goods as gifts this year. Which will require a trip back to the grocery store. I may need a real therapist.

 

 

 

Posted in clothing, communication, convenience, decor, Entertainment, Food, friends, Holidays, moods, online, Seasons, shopping, stress, Style, Technology, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Grin and Bear It

Posted on October 31, 2017 by Real Women

bearThe onset of November tends to make me cranky. Here in New England, I am forced to admit that not only is summer truly over, but we are moving swiftly through Fall. It is getting increasingly colder and it is just so… dark.  Trees have changes from brilliant reds, yellows and golds to brown naked sticks. The only daylight happens while I’m at work. And as much as I enjoy the holidays, many of you out there start dancing around like Will Ferrell in his Elf suit, posting your cheerful countdowns on social media, filling the rest of us with stress and anxiety.

As much as I’d like to curl up in bed surrounded with books and chocolate like a bear hibernating in a cozy den, and emerge sometime in April when the days are once again getting longer and my garden starts sprouting, I can’t.  I know, because I’ve tried.  But someone always finds me and needs something, and if I want to keep my bed and my house, having an income is pretty important to my life.

Besides, as much as I may dread the cold months, I do love New England and don’t plan to move. So I need to stop complaining, use my coping skills, and look for silver linings – you know, be more like my obnoxiously happy summer self.

This morning I was removing the nail polish off my toes and doing a quick at-home pedi. And I thought: Helloooo, naked toes. Welcome back. Guess what? No need to replace the polish because it is socks and boots season. My fellow R.W’s in warm climates don’t get a time out. Year ‘round sandals means year ‘round cute toes. Hmmm…. a simple bonus, but the first bright spot on my mission to not hate November.

I moved on to my closet…I was sad to pack away my light and colorful summer wear, but there’s a lot to be said about clothing that tends to be a bit thicker, looser, and covers more skin. It’s a whole lot easier to hide menopausal pudge, plus as our complexion fades to pale, we can draw attention away from our bodies and to our cool tall boots or funky sweater. Sure, everything in the closet now is dark: grey, black and brown…but accessorizing just got easier too because it is the season for scarves.  Ta da. Color and Comfort. Bonus.

Now about that dark topic. This is the hardest one for me… I have a sign in my kitchen window that reads “I was made for sunny days.” But I’m realizing now that expectations of evening activities are lower when it feels and looks like midnight by 7pm. No one thinks twice if we are in our jammies and “in for the night” within 30 minutes of getting home from work. Curling up with a good book or getting in to lounge mode for a good movie or trash tv is not only acceptable, it is assumed and recommended. The other night I had planned to tackle laundry or the ironing, or any number of various chores that I usually would jump into since it was too dark and chilly to do any yard work. Instead I spent two hours looking through catalogs, magazines, and watching TV.   Highly unusual behavior on my part, but no one else saw any problem with it. So from time to time we can feel welcome to channel our inner sloths. Huh… another bonus.

Similar to our squirrel friends hoarding acorns, or the mama bear who eats her way into a stupor, it is also assumed that we will embrace this “comfort food” season. Over the weekend, I quickly threw together a lunch of a couple of cans of Campbell soup and simple grilled ham & cheese sandwiches, and my son was so happy you’d think it was a gourmet meal. I mean, he raved over the sandwiches. Funny how we crave the yummy, warm, fattening stuff as soon as the seasons change. It’s like my need to make bread and soups and baked goods kicks in and, well, I have to give in to the calling.

So I guess there are a few good things to make November, and the months ahead, more bearable. I realize, of course, that giving in to a couple of these on a regular basis could make me look like a bear. But hey, if I gain a few pounds, I’ve got my winter clothes to hide it, and if it gets harder to bend over to reach my feet, no big deal – I won’t need to paint them until spring. And hibernating bears always emerge eventually a few pounds lighter, right?

 

 

 

 

Posted in age, beauty, changes; hibernation, clothing, fashion, fitness, Food, Health, Holidays, home, meals, moods, preparation, routines, Seasons, self care, skills, Uncategorized, weather | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

What If I Get Abducted by Aliens?

Posted on October 17, 2017 by Real Women

scissorsOne of the best scenes in The King of Queens sitcom series is when Carrie has had enough of her husband Doug asking where things are in the kitchen, and she begs him to “Just learn. LEARN!”  and tests him by encouraging him to find a pair of scissors. As part of her diatribe, she releases those words we’ve all wondered at some point “What if I wasn’t here?” Or, “What if I get abducted by aliens? How will my family carry on without me?”

Now of course we know that their true survival does not rely totally on us, and our spouses and children are capable human beings. But some days we wonder… if we weren’t there, how would they cope? It’s not about the big stuff. They would know how to keep themselves safe, eat, and keep a roof over their heads. But the day to day stuff is where we worry… Would they know where the extra jar of peanut butter is stored? Would they know when to pay the bills? Do they have the phone number and name of the various doctors? Do they know where the Christmas decorations are stored? Do they remember where the spare set of keys are hidden? Do they know that the winter boots are stored in the closet in the basement?  In a Real Woman’s worrying brain, these are the vitally important need-to-know facts of existence, and without the answers, life would become chaotic.

Just in the past day or two, I’ve been asked the following questions from the men in my house: “Where are my W-2’s filed?” “Which freezer is the burger meat in?” “Do we have any onions?” “I’m out of soap, do we have any more?” “Where are my shoes?” “What time do I have to be at church?” “What do we watch on tv tonight?” “Where are the trash bags?”

I sometimes wonder if we all live in the same house. Or, perhaps without knowing it, I’ve been some how secretive and ninja-like about where I put things, or what I tell them. How could they not know where the extra toilet paper rolls are kept? Or where the trash bags are?

I suppose they have their own things that escape The Great Omniscient R.W. mom and wife. Lord knows I have no clue how my son plays his video games nor do I understand half of what he’s saying when he’s talking to his buddies. And I’d be totally lost if I had to go find something in my husband’s workshop… not that I’d ever need anything out there in man’s world, but still – it’s like a mystery lair of guy stuff, “organized” in only a way that makes sense to him. I don’t go in there much. But as for the house? Yeah, there’s not much that gets by me there. The guys may think it is a bit freaky that I know that their favorite pair of gloves are in the third bureau drawer, that I have back up bottles of ketchup on the second shelf in the pantry, or that in five minutes I could put my hands on our tax files from 2003; but knowing these things brings me comfort.

Let’s face it. We R.W.’s are the Home & Family Maintenance Supervisors in our domains. We operate as the lead directors in the Traffic Control Center of our family units. Could the others who reside in our homes survive without us? Of course. Would their days run like clockwork without our guidance? Probably not. For one thing, it would take them far longer to find things. I imagine them drifting about wondering where to go. But we can’t blame them. After all, we are the ones who put the scissors away in the first place, and they can’t read our minds.

Heck, even the aliens that abduct us probably wouldn’t know where to look for stuff we put away. That’s why they’d send us back eventually.

 

Posted in achievements, Chores, communication, convenience, family, Helping others, home, home chores, housework, Kids, men, preparation, Relationships, routines, self care, simplifying, skills, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Maybe Not So Crazy

Posted on October 12, 2017 by Real Women

kitchen wivesA few nights ago, while attempting to multi-task while prepping dinner, I started to think about a TV series that my husband and I enjoyed a few years ago.  Big Love was an HBO series starring Bill Paxton as the husband in a fictional fundamentalist Mormon family in Utah – and they practiced polygamy.  He had three wives and an impressive home complex that appeared normal from the street side, but with a big shared yard in the back.

Why, do you ask, was I thinking about this bizarre family unit while I was making dinner?  Because I was thinking how handy it would be to have had a sous chef assistant that night to chop up all the veggies that were going into the meal. In short, I was considering how handy it would be to have a sister wife…. or two… or three.

Ok, not for real, of course.  But the more I thought about the busy lives we real women all lead, the less crazy the concept became.  Let’s travel down that imaginary road for a moment, shall we?

If we had sister wives, all domestic chores would be divided up evenly, and could be rotated on a daily or weekly basis. One does the meal planning, one does the shopping, we all pitch in to make meals, thus cutting prep time in half.  Same goes for clean up – or heck, house cleaning in general.  Who’s week is it to clean the bathrooms?  Who’s turn to change the sheets on the beds?

Then of course there are the shared childcare duties. Imagine having someone else to share the Mom-Taxi job.  Sister wife #1 goes to Johnny’s game while Sister wife #2 goes to Jenny’s school open house. Sister wife #3 stays home and watches chick flicks and puts her feet up.  See where I’m going with this? It works with almost every responsibility – one to walk the dog, one to visit an elderly relative, one to go have quiet alone time, sitting on the patio and browsing magazines.

With the right rotational plan, we each actually, finally, get true down time, because it is someone else’s turn to take care of stuff.  Lord knows we are all planners, can you imagine the efficiency of putting two or three women in charge of schedules and procedures?

Let’s take this even further.  Imagine job-sharing.  One goes in to work, the other takes care of things at home, while the third runs errands.  With this process in place, we could use the weekends for – get ready for it – time OFF.  I know, shocking, right?

All holidays would be a piece of cake.  Christmas would be like having a house full of elves to make it all happen.  Think how much easier prep would be if you only had to focus on one or two aspects… elect to be the gift wrapper and the card sender while the others handle shopping, baking and decorating.  Stress-free and easy.  What a concept.

Sure, the thought of sharing one man is horrifying…..or is it?  You know all those nights you are just too darn tired?  Well guess what, its someone else’s turn to keep him happy. Tonight you get to take a bubble bath, read, and go to sleep early.  Huh.

Speaking of scary, the thought of having multiple women under one roof could be a bit treacherous – just ask any family with a mom and several daughters.  But if we were the ones who got to choose who our sister wives were, we’d be able to select our own BFFs, the ones we know we could happily live with.  Need some girl time to go for a walk and vent, cry, or work things out?  Pick a sista and go for it.  And how convenient could it be if we are all going through menopause at the same time?  Windows would be wide open at all times, ice packs at the ready, we’d all tell each other we were still beautiful even with weight gain, and there would be extra brains available to help find lost phones or keys and to tell each other why we walked into the room.

In hindsight I suppose, what I’m daydreaming of is not the lifestyle of polygamy, but more of a sorority.  Not the sororities of our college youth days, where we were focused on civic duties, school improvements, fundraisers and parties…no, what we could use now are groups of sorority sisters (sister wives) who are like-minded, have each other’s backs, and are focused on just getting through our busy days as sanely as possible.

The biggest challenge of course would be to find our own Bill Paxtons who would be crazy enough to go along with it.

Guess I better plan on continuing to chop my own veggies.

Posted in adults, age, assisting, beauty, Chores, communication, convenience, family, Food, friends, Helping others, Holidays, home, home chores, housework, Kids, life phases, meals, men, moods, preparation, routines, self care, shopping, simplifying, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Good Mistakes

Posted on October 4, 2017 by Real Women

epcotWith all of the sad, horrific news of the past couple of weeks, I’ve been hesitant to take pen to paper, or better said, fingers to keyboard, to create a post.  As with past times of crisis and devastation, I grapple with the appropriateness of topics.  Clearly no one needs to hear my views on the topics du jour. No one needs me to recount yet AGAIN everything the news has repeatedly bombarded into our ears, eyes and hearts.  And yet it seems somehow irreverent or callus to talk about my usual typical real woman topics like the struggles we face with grocery shopping, maintaining our homes, running errands, wearing unwrinkled clean clothes and the relationships in our lives.  Suddenly our daily challenges seem so inconsequential and superfluous.  I, along with so many right now, feel the need to be so careful about what we say and how we act to remain respectful of the pain of others.

Until we realize we are human. And sometimes we slip up. Even in the worst of times, we may do something seemingly inappropriate and find out that those errors, those interruptions in communications, are just what we all need.

There is a story circulating about an editor at NPR who posted three cute and amusing sentences about a baby named Ramona and her cats to his Facebook Account.  Except he didn’t post it to his personal account as intended. He posted it to NPR’s Account, where it was viewable by….well, pretty much the world.  We’ve all had those moments, especially in this day of social media and technology at our finger tips, when we have mistakenly hit “Reply All”, or broadcasted something that was intended for only a select few, and that gut-wrenching terror we feel when we’ve realized our mistake is brutal.  We break out in sweats, we try to find a way to do a retraction, we worry about losing our jobs, or ruining relationships, and we construct heartfelt apologies.  Which is exactly what Mr. Hopkins did. He issued an apology.  The outpouring of responses was immediate – people loved having something cute break through the clutter of back to back tragedies and give them a smile.  Soon Ramona hashtags popped up, as have requests for ongoing Ramona stories and updates.  People have been suggesting Mr. Hopkins receive a raise for being so brilliant as to shed some cheer in a time when we all needed it. http://n.pr/2xdSGoY

This makes me think of the BBC interview from earlier this year when a gentleman’s children interrupted his live on-air discussion.  It was not only adorable, but hysterical when viewers saw another adult chasing after them and falling through the door in Kramer-like fashion to retrieve them. http://cnn.it/2mDBkjw

As many of us say about our day to day lives, “you just can’t make this stuff up.”   Life happens.  And lucky for us, life is not all bad all the time. We need to be reminded that it is ok to smile, to laugh, to celebrate each other, and sometimes laugh at ourselves.  I believe that not a day goes by when there is not something goofy or silly happening somewhere, and that is a very good thing.

Yesterday at work, while I was on the phone with a co-worker, I was attempting to multi-task and reach for something in a box under my desk without either putting down the phone or putting on my cordless headset, which would have made more sense.  In this process, I scooted forward, yet my chair did not – what happened next was a very slow, very clumsy non-ballet-esque fall of sorts. I ended up on my butt, still carrying on the conversation, hoping that none of my on-site co-workers had heard my slow descent nor seen it.  Later that night, I remembered my odd tumble and told my husband about it, which of course he found amusing.  This morning he offered to give me a pillow to take with me in case I fall out of my chair again and needed something to land on.  Funny man.

Since I luckily avoided an audience, my clumsiness was not quite as dramatic and embarrassing as years ago when I crashed through a security gate on my bicycle.  But that’s a story for another day.  The point is, we make mistakes. We fumble when we speak, we create typos – some small, some big, like this one recently seen at Disney World.  We have blonde moments (yes, even you brunettes, I know it happens to you too!).  We post pictures of our children or dogs in professional presentations. We fall out of chairs. Yes, some errors are serious and create problems. But many, many others – the minor faux pas we do every day – are just good opportunities to smile.

Our oop’ses remind us that it is ok to celebrate our human-ness, and embrace the little things that give us a reason to laugh.

Or give us sore bottoms. Either way.

 

Posted in achievements, communication, Entertainment, friends, Health, Helping others, Kids, moods, social media, stress, Uncategorized, World news | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Taking a Break From Adulting

Posted on September 27, 2017 by Real Women

SONY DSCI know I’m supposed to be a grown up. And most days I’m pretty successful at pulling it off. Like so many other Real Women, I run around taking care of people, being a good worker bee, maintaining our home, running countless chores, unsuccessfully dieting, trying to have a style other than wrinkled yoga pants, self-coloring my hair, encouraging my son to do his homework so I don’t have to try to assist with Algebra, being a crazy fur parent, attempting to stay up on current events, and in general being a responsible adult.

Once in a while, though, I’d like to stop adulting. Not because of the work, or the responsibilities, or the taking care of others, or even the dieting. Well, ok, that last one is a lie, I miss being able to eat whatever I want. And I could do with out grocery shopping and having to pay bills. But otherwise I’m fine with most of what we all have to deal with, and enjoy my role in life. What brings me to the point of wanting to go hide in a blanket fort under the dining table is the incessant barrage of bad news and controversy we see and hear every time we turn on our TV, computers, phones, or pick up a magazine.   We can’t even escape the craziness by watching our favorite shows or sports – politics, anger, frustrations and worries have seeped their way into what used to be our safe zones.

It’s not like bad news and scary national and world events are new. After all, I was a child during events like Watergate, the Iran hostages, Three Mile Island, Son of Sam, the deaths of Elvis and John Lennon, the Jonestown massacre and the Eruption of Mount St. Helens. The difference was that there was no daily internet connection, no social media, only 4 tv channels, a couple daily newspapers and radio. We got our updates when we could, and carried on. We had other distractions. And, best of all, I was a kid. I had a vague comprehension of what was going on outside my personal world; but I could leave the grown ups to discuss Nixon, Ted Bundy, or the gas shortage and I could go play with friends and pretend to be Wonder Woman or a horse or a dancer. I could go play basketball with my brother in the driveway, or play board games with my BFF. I could close myself in my room and put on my favorite records and dance and sing like I was performing on a stage. I could climb up in my favorite tree with a book until mom called me down for supper.

So on days when I just don’t want to listen anymore to the ugliness, and I miss being able to tune out and go into my childish world, I take a few cues from the old days and find other forms of distraction. After hearing the first round of key news stories in the morning, I turn the channel or turn off the tv. I follow more dogs on social media than humans – I scroll past all of the angst-ridden rants until I find a cute video of a puppy, kitten, or prancing goat. My family and I have even stooped so low as to start watching Family Feud while making dinner. It is ridiculously goofy and downright stupid and mindless. We shout out answers, until I have to remind my husband that the contestants can’t hear us. I don’t climb trees anymore, but I do go for bike rides, or take the dog for a walk. I don’t dance in my bedroom, but I do crank my favorite tunes while cleaning the house or driving, and sing along. I don’t do a BFF sleepover every weekend, but I will get together with other RW’s for supper, or shopping, or just relaxing, and all current events topics are off the table. Instead we talk about girl things, family life, food, and our pets. Eventually, through each of these moments of time, we reach the point that at least briefly we can forget about leaders and dictators trying to out-bully each other, or who said what and who was insulted by it, or what next danger lurks around the corner.

I think as long as we can all take turns between being on watch as the adults we are, and shutting down to play like a child, we’ll preserve our sanity and our energy. We all from time to time need to be able to mentally and emotionally climb into our blanket fort and feel safe, calm and happy. Then when it is time for dinner, we can come back out into the big world, pull up our big girl pants, turn the news back on and go back to being adults.

Just don’t judge me too harshly if I’m still clinging to my teddy bear.

 

Posted in age, Chores, communication, family, friends, Health, Helping others, home, home chores, Kids, life phases, moods, natural disasters, pet, politics, Relationships, routines, safety, self care, simplifying, social media, stress, Uncategorized, work, World news | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Spray Bottle Therapy

Posted on September 17, 2017 by Real Women

cleaningIt has been a very busy summer. Although I’m thankful to have a full and active life, I’m happy that we are starting to get back into our usual routines with more time at home. While we’ve been running around for the past few weeks, home maintenance, especially house cleaning, has been cursory at best. I’d fly through when I had the chance to run a quick vacuum or sweep up the biggest clumps of dog hair, but it had reached the point where I felt it necessary to apologize if anyone stopped by.

Friday evening, we had a couple of friends over, and my R.W. friend and I were sharing neglected home stories. With a look on her face that meant she was sure I’d think she was crazy, she said “I actually like to clean. I find it therapeutic.” Then she told me that on Saturday morning, she was planning to get up, put on old clothes, put her hair up in a bun, turn on her favorite music, and clean. I said “Me too!”

I don’t think she’s crazy. Well, any crazier than I am, anyway. I know some RW’s out there would rather poke their eyes out than spend a Saturday cleaning. But I know there are plenty of others out there who, like us, find it…well — like she said –therapeutic. Perhaps it’s not the act of cleaning itself as much as the satisfaction of getting it done. In our crazy hectic lives, sometimes it feels like the one thing we can control is the cleanliness of our surroundings. We can take a break from everything else in our worlds and do some nesting. It is an action that immediately shows positive and noticeable results, and can actually make us feel calmer.  Sure, it also can make us feel back and knee pain, and cause chipped nails, but there’s nothing like a clean, fresh smelling house.

I realized this weekend while doing my Cinderella impersonation (minus the ball gown), that unlike other activities, cleaning for me is not the time to brood. When I go out for a walk or a bike ride, or maybe a long drive, or even take a shower, I will work through big stuff in my head. I do some of my very best thinking during any of those activities. But when it comes to cleaning therapy time, I go easy on myself. I turn on my playlist and go on a sort of comfortable auto-pilot. The men in the house usually find other things to do because a) they get nervous when I go into white tornado mode, b) they don’t care for my music choice and c) I’m singing.

Rather than solve any big problems as I work my way through the various rooms, here are some examples of the less than profound considerations that run through my head: Why does some of the soap scum and mildew in my shower turn pink? Is it some kind of science experiment going on in there?   Why is it that men have an apparatus they can point, and a large target, yet apparently lack any aiming skills? How would this room look if we painted it mauve? Is it weird that I like the smell of Simple Green? Those bananas are going bad, I think I’ll make bread. I need to add more Styx to my playlist. Mom was right, as soon as you start to clean the kitchen floor, someone in the family needs to walk through the room. Why is my dog not bald after shedding this much? Apparently my house plants could survive in the Mohave Desert, because I forgot to water them and they are still alive.

About half way through my private therapy session on Saturday morning, I thought about my RW friend and considered texting her to share one of my keen cleaning observations. But I had failed to mention to her that first on my to do list was to sleep in, and she had likely been up much earlier and was already sitting down to bask in the glory of her clean home. And I was not going to interrupt that sacred moment.

Of course that’s all it is, just a moment. We aren’t delusional enough to think it will last. Soon we will be cringing when someone walks in from outside, dropping grass clippings or dirt off their shoes, or the dog will happily shake and roll himself on his favorite rug in the living room, replacing all the fur I just vacuumed up. Miscellaneous stuff will start to assemble on every flat surface, dust will collect around electronics, food crumbs will assemble on counter tops, something will get spilled in the oven, socks and shoes will pile up in the corner, toilet paper rolls will run out, and dirty dishes will magically re-appear in the sink. The house will once again take on that look and odor of being lived in. And that’s ok. We don’t live in a sterile museum, we live in a busy home.

But for that brief glimpse of time, I will sit to rest my back, take a deep breath and enjoy a nice clean smell, admire the vacuum marks in the carpet, the lack of cobwebs in the corners, and I will feel calm, refreshed… cleansed. I will be in control of my castle.

Then I will be ready to let reality back in.

 

 

 

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Hidden Treasures

Posted on September 7, 2017 by Real Women

treasureWe recently sold our old bedroom furniture to help fund a new set.  The old pieces were ugly, heavy, and not an efficient use of space.  They came into my life along with my husband (although he’s cute, not heavy, and very efficient); we’ve been married almost twenty years, so we felt justified in making the change.

As we worked to clean out all of the drawers, I told my husband that two or three of the drawers in the bureau I had used since we’ve been together stopped closing all the way a long time ago.  I knew there must be something stuck behind them, but the drawers did not come all the way out easily, so I had never been able to fish whatever it was, out.  Knowing we couldn’t sell it without fully closing drawers, we spent some time taking the back off, attempting to remove drawers, and tipping it on end.  After the first three pairs of socks made their appearance, we thought we were in the clear.  No such luck. In the end, we rescued a grand total of 15 pairs of socks, three camisoles, a bra, and two small travel cosmetic bags. Clearly I was trying to pack too much into the oddly small drawers. One would think I would have missed each of those items – but remember, this is about twenty years worth of a collection.  I did frequently wonder how I was going through athletic socks so quickly, but had just assumed either they were in the black hole of the laundry, or perhaps my son had used them when he was younger and smaller.  Out of my husband’s dresser, we rescued just one pair of wayward shorts, and several handfuls of b-b’s that had come from my stepson’s b-b gun several years ago.

When we pulled the furniture away from the walls we of course found additional parts and pieces, and enough dust and filth to disgust us and send us running for the shop-vac.  Greeting cards, cosmetics, several dog toys (his tennis ball collection just doubled in size), a matchbox car, and a few safety pins and paper clips were among the dusty rubble.  That space behind any large, heavy piece of furniture and the wall is a no-man’s land.  The only time I’ve attempted to retrieve items is when I’ve dropped something of value, like a piece of jewelry.  I even at one point bought one of those long-handled grabber tools to rescue important items.  But as for other small things, when I’ve been aware they fell back there, it was more of a “oh well, there it goes forever.”

Besides being a sign of our apparent clumsiness, I think any clean out surprises us by admitting to the bizarre stuff we all tend to collect and hold on to, or bury in dark drawers like a dog buries bones.  Desk drawers can yield all sorts of treasures, and I’m fairly certain that the majority of us have a self-proclaimed “Junk Drawer” in our kitchen, workshop, or office.  I bravely attempt to clean out our kitchen junk drawer once a year or so, and inevitably find things like old stamps, broken fridge magnets, crumpled photos, a rubber band ball, keys to who-knows-what, and batteries – likely used, possibly dead.  Why the majority of these things find their way into a drawer instead of the trash, who knows.  Unfortunately I have yet to stumble upon a misplaced wad of cash in any drawer or piece of furniture… I guess you have to have it in the first place to lose it.  We can’t all be lucky like Eric Stonestreet finding goodies in Ellen’s couch: https://www.ellentube.com/video/eric-stonestreet-digs-for-change-in-ellens-old-furniture.html

What I don’t understand is if we are able to find things like pairs of socks in bureau drawers, then what’s up with the washer and dryer?  I have a collection of mate-less and odd items on the top of my clothes dryer.  Right now I believe I have four socks (none the same), and two winter gloves (also not matching).  Where do the other halves go???  Do they go through a laundry portal to end up in someone else’s house?  Do they sneak off to have parties under the bed?  How is it that the mates don’t turn up in the next load of laundry?  I’m sure at some point in my past, I’ve grown weary of spares, thrown them away, only to have the twin show up three months later.  So for now I’ve started this new collection of items adorning the top of my dryer, as if they are a display of valuable collectibles to be gazed upon every time I’m doing my Cinderella duties in the basement.  Someday, somehow, the missing sock’s Prince Charming mate will arrive, after riding around inside a pant leg, or after being fetched from the bottom of a closet, or possibly having been used as a rag in hubby’s workshop.

As for the gloves….well, perhaps I’ve learned something from my recent bedroom bureau experience. I have a hunch that those missing partners may be lost in the back of the winter gear drawers in the hallway.  I seem to remember one isn’t closing all the way…..oh my, I wonder what else I will find.  I may need reinforcement — better call Indiana Jones.

 

 

 

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What If

Posted on August 31, 2017 by Real Women

scrapbooksThis has been a difficult week to watch the news. Most weeks aren’t easy, but this is the kind of week when we need to have a box of tissues nearby. The devastation in Texas has been heart-breaking, and for those of us many miles away, hard to fathom. What’s different from other news stories is that we don’t have someone we can be mad at, or to blame. We can’t focus our anger at a crazy Korean dictator, or at our own politicians – at least not for this issue. This is a natural disaster. It does no good to get mad at the weather, it is out of our control.

So instead we feel sad, we feel scared, we feel anxious, and in a true example of decent humanity, we all want to help. In the meantime, all we can do is watch and hope and pray that there are not more casualties, and cheer for every successful rescue of both humans and animals.

We real women make a daily habit out of worrying. Even when there is not a natural disaster happening, we worry that there could be one. We think about the “what if’s”. And when we see our fears come true for others, that worrying and “what if-ing” gets even stronger. What if massive flooding happened to us, or to our loved ones? We watch interviews with those who are going through it, and palpably feel their relief when they and their family members are safe. Because that’s the most important thing, of course, is personal safety of loved ones. I saw one touching image of a 90-year old woman praying with her rescuers. We repeat that mantra of “things can be replaced, people can’t.” But perhaps that is easy for those of us who are at a distance, to say. We didn’t just watch all of our belongings literally get washed out of our house. We don’t have over four feet of water filling our homes. Yes, they may physically be safe, but many have lost everything else. That’s not ok.

I, like many other sometimes irrationally concerned real women, have often thought about what I would do if we were told that something disastrous was coming… a flood, a wild fire, a hurricane. If we were told to evacuate, or we were told we had only a few minutes or hours to somehow prepare or pack up our essentials, what would we take with us? What truly would be the most important “things” to carry with us if we could? This is assuming, of course, that the members of our household are with us and safe. What of the “stuff” in our lives?

I have from time to time half joked with my husband and son that if God Forbid anything should happen to the house, they are to grab all of my scrapbooks and take them with us. Unless we have the time and space to fill our cargo van, this is not a realistic request in times of emergency. But those really are part of what I’d want to keep with me, because they contain photos and memories. I suppose more realistically I’d grab my purse and wallet, my laptop, a couple changes of clothing. medications and food and water. Beyond that, what really do we need? My cool shoes? Don’t think so. My jewelry? Even though I have some nice pieces, the only ones I’d really miss are the ones that mean something because of who gave them to me. Small appliances? Not helpful to carry around.

Ironically, this week we are working on cleaning out our house to have a tag sale this weekend. I’ve been repeatedly asking myself and my guys “do we need this?” I had grown tired of clutter, and I felt the need to get the proverbial shovel out. It amazes me the amount of stuff we hang on to, for virtually no reason at all. Things we haven’t used or touched, things we have multiples of, things we think we may “some day” use yet haven’t needed in at least three years. The biggest challenge with the clean out, of course, are the things to which we are somehow emotionally tied. I have bins in my basement of memorabilia of when my son was a baby and little boy. Clothing, toys, stuffed animals, books… carefully selected and stored away. Why? Because I can’t let go of them. They represent too many memories. I tell myself that some day he may use them for his own children. But the realistic side of me knows that likely won’t be the case, he’ll get all new stuff for my grandchild. Or there’s the bin of antique silver and china handed down to me from my mother or grandmother or aunt. Again, I doubt my son will ever use any of it, but still it sits tucked away in my basement.

Some things are easier to put in the tag sale piles – like do we really need a back-up toaster? Or a dozen mis-matched old cups and mugs? What about old movie posters, board games and extra holiday decorations?   Nope, nope and nope. None of those items are making it on my keep list, nor would they in any way be on my emergency-take-it-with you list.

However, after the past few days, I am looking at some of my stuff through a new lens. I’m realizing that some of what I currently consider to be junk, could be useful to someone who has just lost everything. And so a new pile is emerging: items to be donated. Because even though people can’t be replaced and items can, sometimes in life we need help from others to make the replacements happen when we need them most.

#HoustonStrong

Posted in assisting, family, friends, Health, Helping others, home, life phases, natural disasters, pet, preparation, real women, routines, safety, Uncategorized, weather, World news | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Situational Dress Up

Posted on August 23, 2017 by Real Women

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI get it. As we move through our phases of life, our personal styles change – mostly because our bodies, preferences and moods seem to shift like the wind. And, at some point we reach a time when “age appropriate dressing” is a thing. Obviously the clothing I wore in my 20’s would in no way look good on me thirty years later, and I have begrudgingly accepted this. Although I do from time to time see other women out there who didn’t get that memo, and more power to them. Perhaps they have a magical mirror in their home which I lack.

There are of course other factors at play that influence our ever-changing closets. Careers, social activities and hobbies can cause us to make fairly drastic edits to our bodily adornments. This past weekend I was shopping with a friend, and she was explaining that they were instituting a revised dress code at her work, encouraging an overall movement to look more corporate and dressy than many of them had in the past. While she looked at suits, I looked at business casual. She would hold up a cute blouse and say “I suppose I could wear this on weekends” and my response was “I could wear that to the office.”

Beyond our jobs, though, is what I’d call Situational Style. When I was younger, I had reasons to dress up fairly often for events like graduations, weddings, anniversaries, and special parties. Now that I’m older, most of our activities are more casual – outdoor events, BBQ’s, gatherings at the homes of friends… very rarely do I need something dressy. I haven’t needed the infamous “little black dress” in years.

But once in a while, there is the need to take it up a notch. I have attended two parties this summer that required a dress, and this weekend we will be attending the wedding of the daughter of dear friends. Being a typical girly-girl, I look forward to dress-up moments. The men in my life, however, not so much. When my son was a baby and toddler, I had great fun dressing him in all sorts of adorable and snazzy outfits – because he at the time had no say in the matter nor preference. But times change.

Since we are on a budget, we try to make do with what we can find in our closets, and add accessories as needed. In an effort to avoid last minute panic, earlier this week I asked both my husband and my son to look at what they have to determine what they can wear to the wedding, and to determine if we need to make a Kohl’s run for new shirts or pants. Here’s how some of that process went:

My son: “Well, like what should I wear? A dress shirt and nice pants?”

Me: “Yes, like a pair of dress slacks or khaki’s and a button-down nice shirt – but you could probably do short sleeves.”

Son, with sharp intake of breath. “Uhhhh, khaki’s would be tough. The ones I have don’t fit anymore.”

Me, inwardly thinking this is why I’ve asked you to clean out your closet: “Ok, do you have other nice pants?”

Son: “Umm… maybe…. I think so. But what should I wear for shoes?”

Me: “You have those nice tan shoes, do those still fit?”

Son, my teen fashion-forward young man, making a face: “Oh, those wouldn’t match my dress pants at ALL….”

Me, sighing: “Well, sort through what you have tomorrow so if we have to go get something new, we’ll still have time.” Clearly knowing, of course, that this process has only just begun, and a solution will only happen shortly before we have to pack to leave on Friday.

Next I moved into our bedroom, and had a similar conversation with my husband about what would be appropriate to wear. I know he has pants to choose from. The issue for him may be shirts. He put on a nice short-sleeve shirt. “Do you think I could wear this one?”

Me: “Possibly, if you wear nice navy slacks with it.”

Him: “What would I wear for a tie?”

Me: “You wouldn’t. Not with that kind of shirt. But I think that’s ok.”

Him: “I don’t know what else I have that would be good….”

Me: “Well, you have time, you could run out to get something.”

Him: “But how do I know what size to get, like neck size and stuff?”

Me, sighing: “If you aren’t buying a long sleeve dress shirt and aren’t wearing a tie, you won’t need to know your neck size.” Then, repeating myself word for word from 15 minutes prior in my son’s room: “Well, sort through what you have tomorrow so if we have to go get something new, we’ll still have time.”  Still knowing, of course, that this process has only just begun, and a solution will only happen shortly before we have to pack to leave on Friday. Seeing a pattern here?

This morning, it was my turn. I pulled two dresses out of the back of my closet, in an effort to find something else to wear instead of the dress I’ve already worn to two other events this summer. Because, well, variety is the spice of life. Good news, they fit. Sort of. I’ve had both dresses for quite a while, and both were purchased before my menopausal weight gain and the addition of Poochy, my pet name for my over-50 stomach. Looking face-on in the mirror, with a good bra to keep the girls in place, I looked pretty good. Back view, although wishing my butt was about 3” higher like it used to be, not too bad either. Side view however, ugh. The amazing thing about over-50 weight gain, is that no manner of “sucking it in” will help. It just hangs out there for all to see. Hence why so many of us wear loose flowy things. These dresses are not loose and flowy. Undecided, I hung both dresses back up and went rummaging around in the rarely-worn part of my underwear drawer to determine if I still own spanx.

In the end, I will likely choose the dress I’m more comfortable in, whichever one feels more summer wedding-ish, and to whichever one I can best match existing shoes and jacket. Because that’s the other thing that changes over time. When selecting a great outfit for an event, two key requirements bubble up to the top: ease and comfort. Gone are the days of taking hours to prepare, and spending hours not being able to breathe and move.

After the wedding, we will come home, get our fancy duds cleaned and hung up, and we will probably not see them again for some time. Long enough, I’m sure, for my son to outgrow the pants again, and for my matronly shape to no longer look right in the same dress. But that’s all right. Because we have shorts, jeans and t-shirts that fit just fine in the meantime.

 

 

 

Posted in age, beauty, clothing, convenience, Entertainment, family, fashion, Kids, life phases, men, moods, real style, real women, shopping, simplifying, Style, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment