Keep, Toss, Donate

Posted on October 4, 2016 by Real Women
donate-pile

The Looming Pile for Donation

My mother and I had a tradition when I was a girl that happened every Spring and every Fall.  She would painstakingly help me sort through my clothing, in preparation for the change of seasons or school year, to determine what I had grown out of, and what needed replacing. We made three piles: clothing to be kept and hung up in the closet for the season, clothing to be donated, and clothing that was just too worn out to be good for anything other than being recycled into dust rags.

Although I was too cool to tell her, I enjoyed this time with her, even if we had differing opinions of what should be kept.  In her truly organized manner, she would make a shopping list for necessary items. If it was practical and necessary (ie: pants for school that were not high-waters, or a nice dress for holiday family dinners), it went on the must-have shopping list.  If it was something she deemed unnecessary and I simply just wanted it, it was up to me to save my own money to purchase it.  I’m sure there were a number of items she hoped I would no longer want by the time I had saved the money (like my beloved wooden Dr. Scholl’s sandals or my brightly colored 80’s overalls).

Flash forward to today, and I still sort through closets twice a year.  Going through my son’s closet has become remarkably easy.  He’s a teenage boy, so the needs vs. wants are fairly simple.  But my closet – well, that remains a challenge.

The decision to keep, toss, or donate is not as easy as it was when I was young.  When I was 12, it was exciting to find out how much I’d grown, and to find cool new styles to pine away for.  Now the excitement has faded and it has become more of a chore.  Some of the decisions involve just plain letting go, after coming to the “it’s just not gonna happen” realization.  I finally came to the decision that it is time to pass along my four or five beautiful suits that have hung in my spare storage space for…. well, let’s see…. Probably 10 – 15 years?   I kept them all this time because I liked them, and thought that “someday I may have a job again where I’ll need these.”  Guess what, that’s not happening.  Time for those suits to go to someone who could really use them. Then there’s the super sexy or fancy dresses that hang forlornly in the back of the closet, taunting me with “you have no appropriate occasions to wear me” and “you’d have to wear spanx under me now and go without breathing all night anyway.”  Keep or donate?  The jury is still out.

The rest of the decisions take less deliberation, but are more depressing.  I no longer find clothing that I’ve outgrown because I’ve added three inches to my height, or because I’ve moved from skinny stick girl to having grown boobs.  Nope, now I find clothing that I’ve grown out of thanks to maturity, menopause, gravitational pull, weight gain, or just mood swings and taste.  It amazes me that in just one year, or even just a matter of a few months, things could change so drastically. I know I’m not alone here, because my BFF and I text each other during this process — because misery loves company.  Pants that previously fit well are now battling to button over my muffin top.  Styles that looked cute and trendy now drape oddly and unflatteringly.  And speaking of draping.  Holy flowy, Batman.  It appears that for many months I had gravitated toward a closet full of loose flowing styles.  You know the type, designed for us middle-aged women who want forgiving clothes that hide stuff.  I apparently took a step too far down Unstructured Alley.  I literally stood in my closet the other day and said “would it have killed me to keep ONE tailored button-down blouse?”  Last, of course, are the items that have been so darn practical and well-fitting that I’ve had them forever and I am just. plain. sick. of. them.  Yeah, I know mom, they are still useful.  Sigh.

I’m happy to report I’m nearing the end of this season’s sorting challenge.  I’ve hung up or packed away the keepers, and I have a large pile ready to be donated.  Last night I sat back and admired my somewhat organized closet, and reprimanded myself for complaining about my First World Problem of having clothes I don’t need.  I allowed myself to feel my seasonal sense of accomplishment.

Until I realized I still need to sort through my shoes.

 

Posted in beauty, Chores, clothing, family, home chores, Kids, moods, real style, Seasons, shopping, Style, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

What’s Your Sign?

Posted on September 27, 2016 by Real Women

chippyI’m not sure how much I believe about spirits, hauntings, and messages from those who have passed on. I tend to think almost anything is possible, but since I’ve never really experienced any paranormal activity personally (and I’m ok with that!), I can’t vouch for the validity of the concept.  My husband has “seen” his father several times, like in our kitchen and in his workshop, and his dad has helped him locate lost hardware pieces in the garage.  So, like I said, anything is possible.

What I do believe very firmly in are signs.  I believe that our loved ones conveniently send us signs to let us know they are somehow there for us, thinking about us, and to remind us to think about them. Or maybe to pop us a quick love note when we most need it.  I’m sure not everyone believes the same as I do, and that’s fine.  I understand that coincidences happen.  But since every sign I see makes me feel better, I’m sticking to my theory.

Let me give you a few examples. Both of my parents were nature lovers and avid bird-watchers.  My mom and I were often referred to as Big Mouse and Little Mouse. Not long after my mom passed, I was going through a bit of a challenging time and was missing her a lot. I was out for a walk in the middle of the day, and there, sitting on the sidewalk in front of me, was a mouse.  Not running away, not dead, not ill or attacked by a bird.  Just a mouse. Sitting there. It watched me walk by, then hustled off into the grass.  Basically any time a bird or an animal shows up in an unusual place or way, I take it as a sign. My brother and I shared stories of visits to the cemetery… when I stopped with my family, a fox ran out of the woods and right across the cemetery, near my mom’s stone.  When my brother paid his visit, on the way out, he said a butterfly literally flew alongside his car all the way out.

My dad adored elephants.  I swear that for the past year or so since he passed, I have seen elephants everywhere. People were posting cute elephant videos on Facebook, when I shopped, I saw elephant jewelry, home décor, books, artwork – even a giant stuffed elephant in Home Goods.  Sure, this all could have been a coincidence, and perhaps there has always been a plethora of elephant-themed items in my world and I’ve never happened to notice them. Or maybe elephants just happened to get trendy… who knows. It doesn’t really matter, because each time, it made me think of him.

Signs don’t have to be as big and as obvious as an elephant.  They can be common things, in an uncommon way. Growing up, our yard was a veritable mini wild animal kingdom. One of my activities with Dad when I was a girl was to help set the Have-a-Heart traps to catch chipmunks (and sometimes squirrels), then I’d go with him to drive a couple miles away to a parking area at the end of the local lake to let them loose.  We would joke about whether or not the chipmunk would turn around and beat us back home.  The other night, on my way home from work, it was a beautiful day, and I had my windows open.  I stopped at a light, and heard a rustling in the wooded area along the road.  I glanced over and saw a chipmunk pop up on a piece of wood, stop, and – I’m not making this up – stare straight at me.  The light changed, he scampered off.  Nothing unusual about a forest rodent, I know.  But why would I happen to notice it then?  Why would it stop and stare at me?

I’ve started to wonder what kind of fun signs I might want to send in the future when I’ve “gone beyond.”   I doubt I’ll be big and showy and come back as some kind of apparition or run around opening and closing cabinet doors… as much as I’d find that funny, I’d hate to scare my loved ones.  So instead, what kind of signs would make someone think about me?

I doubt my son would care much, or make the connection, if a pair of fabulous women’s shoes suddenly appeared on a sale rack in front of him.  So that won’t work.  Birds are a convenient sign… there is a fairly common belief out there that whenever you see a cardinal, it is a sign that an angel is near, or a loved one is visiting.  Ok, maybe, but that seems like a big burden to all cardinals.  Can’t they just come by the feeder because they are hungry?  No, I’d send one of my favorites, like a goldfinch or hummingbird, and have it land on someone’s head or perch by the window and stare in the house.  Something really obvious.  Maybe I’ll send my messages and personality through a future pet puppy…Or, hey, I know, I will somehow manifest myself in the form of a Christmas cookie!  You know what?  This sign-sending thing could be fun!

But I’m in no rush.  For now, I’m happy to keep going through my days here on earth, trying to stay alert to what others are trying to tell me when they can no longer pick up the phone or stop by for a hug.  Call me crazy if you want.  But when I see a Great Blue Heron fly alongside me while I’m out biking, I’m still going to say “hi mom & dad, love you too.”

So what’s your sign?

Posted in commu, communication, family, friends, Health, Relationships, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

As Luck Will Have It

Posted on September 19, 2016 by Real Women

383-roll-the-dice_800x6002“Let’s go this way.”

“What is it?”

“What’s what?”

“What?”

“What’s what?”

Sigh. “I don’t know.”

This was a conversation I overheard this weekend between a nurse and an older woman resident at the Nursing Facility where my brother lives. Like most residential facilities, the people who live there show a range of health, abilities and lucidity. There is another woman who likes to sit in the hallway to watch visitors come and go, and frequently asks “Could someone bring me some toast?”

The staff at this facility are amazing, caring and positive people. It is a clean and pleasant environment. And yet, none of us want to end up living in a facility like it in our later years — even though the odds are good that some day we will. We’d all like to stay healthy and independent right up until our last day on earth. But of course there’s no way for any of us to be able to predict what our senior years will be like. One of my BFF’s is currently trying to cope with the fact that her father’s dementia is progressing rapidly. She and her mother have had to move him to a VA hospital. When she visits, he does not always know who she is. Another BFF’s mother has multiple health concerns, including having to endure dialysis. She has some good days with a clear mind and less pain, other days she’s loopy and miserable.

For those of us real women in our mid-life years, interacting with the next generation is like looking into a mirror of the future… and honestly it scares the heck out of us. Of course, I have a lot I still want to do and experience, so I’m hopeful that I won’t have to take a premature exit from this earth. I’d really like to be lucky enough to grow old.   It’s just the unknown of how those “old” years may shape up that has us on pins and needles.

My girlfriend and I recently enjoyed a beautiful sunny day roaming around a favorite annual arts & crafts fair. As we were getting ready to get on the shuttle bus from the parking area, we saw three women who were likely in their 70’s, also preparing to visit the fair. They were armed with big tote bags to carry their treasures, and other bags to carry anything else they may need for the afternoon. Each had on typical classic baggy oversized floral tshirts, shorts that hung to their knees, and grey hair clipped back with hair pins because it was a hot day out. They did not move quickly, but they were clearly happy to be together. My gf and I said to each other “you know that is us in about twenty years.” Although we giggled at the time, in reality I hope that IS us in the future. I hope that we will still be able to get out and about and enjoy fun outings together.

Of course, we all wish we could win the age lottery and be among the minority of seniors who seem resistant to infirmities and ailments. I have close family friends in their 80’s who still hike, play tennis, go boating, and host family and friends on a daily basis. They still drive from Florida to Maine twice a year. They are amazing, and I think to myself “when I grow up, I want to be like them.”

It makes me wonder. How do we roll the age dice? Who’s to say whether we’ll end up needing a nurse’s help to walk down a hallway while wondering why, or if we’ll end up climbing mountains in our later days?   Sure, health history and heredity have a lot to do with it. But there’s so much that seems to be up to chance, like some kind of geriatric game of roulette. Why does cancer, heart disease, Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s hit some of us and skip others?   Which of us get to be the lucky ones with sharp minds and limited aches and pains?   We just have to wait and see.

Since none of us have a crystal ball for the aged, we can only prepare ourselves for whatever may come. The best we can possibly hope for, no matter what, is to have moments of joy in every day. We can train for this by doing our best now to help the older generations experience moments of happiness, no matter how big or small. Share a smile, a laugh, a story, or make someone’s day just a bit easier – even if five minutes later they won’t remember it.

Then some day, if we are lucky, there will be someone there to do something nice for us.

Like bring us a piece of toast.

 

Posted in age, assisting, family, Health, Helping others, real women, Relationships, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Fit to Print?

Posted on September 13, 2016 by Real Women
mag-cover

Ugh. Really with this?

I’m a smorgasbord kind of girl when it comes to news. I watch some local tv news each morning, then catch a few minutes of the Today Show. I listen to the radio on the way to work, and throughout the day like many others I get bits and pieces of “news” from a variety of online sources – via push notifications, apps, websites, social media, you name it, there are about a gazillion ways to get daily information.

Some of the news is national and fairly reliable, from places like CNN, the networks or BBC. Local news is generated from our local affiliated stations, blogs and word of mouth. Then there’s entertainment news and goofy stuff.

From time to time I will browse the highlights of “news” from sources like Yahoo. It is just like reading the headlines on tabloids while waiting in line at the grocery store, but electronic. And, just like I rarely pick up and actually open a National Inquirer, I rarely will click into a Yahoo headline to read the article. Scrolling through is enough. And why do I enjoy this? Because if I have to hear one more story about Hillz or Trump, I will puke. At least these sources are sharing something different.

Today as I scrolled through, I saw the following important news items, all with variable legitimacy:

  • Prince William and Kate are planning a 3rd baby for Christmas
  • Will the Big Bang Theory continue past season 10?
  • Are Keith Urban and Nicole calling it quits?
  • Husband Puts Whiney Wife for Sale on Ebay
  • Obama Greeted Warmly in Kenya
  • Forbes’ Releases list of Highest Paid Models

As I meandered my way through the list, wondering who out there really cares about Miss Michigan’s jumpsuit, I was reminded of why I started this Real Women blog four years ago (wow, really? Four years?).   I was standing in front of a rack of women’s magazines, looking for something to browse while traveling. I could find nothing that interested me, nor anything I could identify with. And they all looked and sounded the same. The women on the covers were all flawlessly beautiful. The articles promised things like “Get a flat tummy in 3 days with these 4 simple exercises”, or “Mind-blowing sex secrets revealed”, or “Find these amazing designer shoes for only $300.”   Then there was my favorite: a great way to feel woefully inadequate by reading about some woman who gave up her six-figure income to clime Mount Kilimanjaro. At the time I remember wondering “where are the stories for us real women? Where are the articles that we can really relate to, and that will make us feel better about ourselves?”

So I took pen to paper, or rather keyboard to blog, with a desire to share real, normal, we-aren’t-perfect-but-we-rock stories. Since then, nothing has really changed in the world of women’s magazines and entertainment news. All of those useless articles are there, as are the perfect women on the covers, and we still see headlines about people or activities that truly have no effect on our lives.

In that spirit, and in thinking about the Yahoo headlines, I present a few headlines of our own:

  • The Joys of a Vasectomy
  • Wife Wants to Put Hubby Out by the Curb, But No One Will Pick Him Up
  • Woman is Warmly Welcomed at The Grocery Store
  • Making Friends with Your Muffin Top
  • $5 Flip Flops – Who Cares if they Fall Apart in One Season?
  • Balancing the Checkbook: Deciding Between Paying for Electricity or Getting the Car Fixed
  • Throwing Together Dinner with 5 Ingredients in Less than 30 Minutes
  • Three Outfits Under $50 That Will Hide Your Back Fat

I have to believe that if I saw these headlines, I’d click to read the article, or pick up the magazine to take home, or turn up the volume on the TV. So much content, such little time.

Perhaps some day, if I win that elusive lottery, I’ll publish that magazine for all of us Real Women. In the meantime, keep scrolling what’s out there. I’ll be here when you need to share a dose of reality.

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in beauty, communication, Entertainment, Kids, real style, real women, shopping, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

When the Bell Tolls

Posted on September 7, 2016 by Real Women

classroom-desksTonight my husband and I rushed home from work, choked down a quick snack, grabbed a bottle of water, and headed out to our semiannual tradition: School Open House. Our son is now a Sophomore in High School. Which means, give or a take a few scheduling conflicts, we have attended approximately a dozen of these events. Not counting any that we attended in the past for my stepsons.

When our children are young, the Open Houses are opportunities to see the creative and fun community areas in which they play and interact, have time to talk with the teachers, and admire the artwork or stories on the walls created by young minds. As our kids get older and venture into high school, the open houses are more about trying to not get lost as we hustle through an abbreviated version of our child’s typical schedule, receive an extra copy of the class syllabus and hear the rushed presentation by teachers of what they hope to accomplish for the semester.

There are a few other guaranteed experiences at each Open House, for which I have a few recommendations on how they could be improved, thus encouraging better parental attendance:

  1. It will be stiflingly hot. It does not matter whether it is the Fall or Spring Open House. The interior temperature of the classrooms will be approximately 95 degrees. Idea: Hand out paper fans for moms to combat hot flashes, and cold bottles of water so parents don’t feel they’ve crossed the Sahara Desert by 3rd period. I know budgets are so low that we have to donate tissues to classrooms, so perhaps a local business could donate the water. They’d have a captive yet appreciative audience viewing their logo.
  2. Oooh that smell. It doesn’t matter where you went to school, upon entering you will recognize the scent. It is that unique combination of gymnasium-cafeteria-locker room-disinfectant-chem lab-auditorium that we all remember. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, more a nostalgic essence. I suppose those few schools that have recently gone through a major renovation may have lost that built-in-the-50’s aura… the next town over from me has a swanky new multi-million dollar high school. I’ll bet it smells like flowers and sunshine in there.
  3. Bleachers and desk chairs are still uncomfortable. This is why school is for the young. Any adult over the age of 40 can last only 15 minutes in a school chair or sitting on the bleachers in the gym. Idea: Let us stand, lean, or sit in the teacher’s chairs. We aren’t being rude. We just hate the embarrassment of getting up off our seats with a groan and a limp.
  4. The teachers are getting younger. Seriously, I’ve seen a few who I’ve wondered if they are students or instructors. This of course is by no means a nod to any of us getting older. Heck no. Just because I feel a maternal need to ask if the teacher is getting enough sleep and eating right, doesn’t mean they aren’t my peers. I love asking my son at the start of the school year to describe how old he thinks each of his teachers is. He gets that “oh no I can’t possibly answer this correctly” look in his eye and says vaguely “oh, kind of your age.” If the teacher turns out to be at least 10 years younger than me, my son gets an extra cookie. Idea: Have the teachers where name tags. Helps us avoid the embarrassment of assuming they are student helpers.
  5. Valiantly attempted organization. Even with best of intentions, we can be assured of some confusion. For example, there was some bewilderment as to whether the Open House started at 6:00, 6:15, or 6:30. We aimed for somewhere in between, and followed signs to the cafeteria to pick up our schedules. Which weren’t there yet. Soon a man came hustling in with armfuls of papers, which were then stacked in alpha order on tables around the room. Parents then had to thumb through to find their child’s name. Not exactly efficient. Good news is they included a map of the school on the back. Bonus points for that.
  6. Social hour. If you’ve been in town for a few years, you’ll see lots of familiar faces –the parents of your kid’s friends and club/sports associates. If you are new in town, it is a sea of faces who all seem familiar with each other and not you. Either way, there are hearty greetings in the halls, and quick jokes about “when I went to school here.” And we all have one thing in common: we all look weary. Especially those parents with more than one child in the school, trying to split themselves in two to get to all classrooms. There’s no time to stop and chat – we are trying to fit an abbreviated school day into two hours. So most of the conversations go like this: “Hey! How are ya! Good to see you – gotta go find the Geometry room!” Idea: I’d like to suggest wine and cheese stations in the hallways, but I suppose being a school, alcohol is not permitted. So perhaps coffee and snacks. Fuel to get us through, and areas to pause and be social.

Tonight as we thanked the teachers and headed out to the fresh air, we spoke with a couple of other parents about the lack of attendance at this whirlwind information gathering activity. I get it, we are all busy, and have all put in long days. But the teachers and administration put in extra hours to make these Open Houses happen, and this brief journey gives us a window into the day to day lives of our kids. It is worth the extra effort to be there for that reason alone.

Although…I’ll bet we’d fill the place if they could offer wine stations and a drawing to win a year’s worth of school lunches for our child.  Just something for the suggestion box.

 

 

Posted in age, education, family, Kids, school, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Challenging Stuff

Posted on August 24, 2016 by Real Women

camping gear“That’s all you need in life, a little place for your stuff. That’s all your house is- a place to keep your stuff…. Sometimes you leave your house to go on vacation. And you gotta take some of your stuff with you. Gotta take about two big suitcases full of stuff, when you go on vacation. You gotta take a smaller version of your house. It’s the second version of your stuff.” – George Carlin

George had it right. We all have stuff. Lots of it. At least I know that I do. And, like he said, sometimes we go on a trip. And we need to take some of that stuff.

I’ve had reason to travel lately, and with that comes the challenge of how to consolidate the amount of stuff I invariably want to take with me. Because I always want to take too much. I tend to think that I need a few extra changes of clothes, you know – just in case. In case there’s a change of plans, or the weather shifts, or… who knows. And then there are the pairs of shoes. Yes, I used the plural: pairs. I take sneakers and workout clothes too – again, just in case the opportunity presents itself. Of course there are the other bits and pieces, like magazines, books, my laptop….just in case I have downtime.

I’ve been trying to cut back. Really, I have. I know there are other R.W.’s out there who have similar struggles with the whole packing thing. Yet a few of you have it down to a science. I have one BFF who can literally travel to Europe for two weeks with one tiny bag. It is a mystery to me how she does it, and I know I will never master that level of efficiency. Instead I have set a more obtainable goal. I have a 3-day business trip coming up, which will require travelling by air. My goal is to fit everything I need into a carry-on bag. Sounds like a no brainer, doesn’t it? People do it all the time. Easy, right? Yeah, unless you are me.   Usually I prefer to pack my too-much stuff in to a larger bag and check it so I don’t have to schlep it around with me. But in this case, I’m going to go for it in the spirit of simplicity. Well, at least I will try.

When we travel by car, I have much more freedom to over-pack. After all, the only restriction is that everything has to fit in the vehicle. I have gotten really good at filling the trunk of my car, or the back of my husband’s van. I remember as a young girl, sitting entranced at the kitchen table watching the Avon Lady visit with my mom. She had the coolest satchel of products (a place for her stuff) with ingenious little compartments to hold everything. She could fit an amazing amount of fascinating items in that bag. When I’m packing the car, I imagine I’m the Avon Lady. Except instead of lipsticks and compacts, I’m finding space for bags and outerwear and anything else that seems important to bring along.

This weekend we are going camping. Ahhh… images of the simple life fill our heads. Just us, a tent, a campfire… and a whole lotta STUFF. I’ve got bins of cookware, utensils, flashlights, bug spray, and towels. I’ve got a large water container, three sleeping bags, and a couple of blow-up mattresses (there’s only so far I’ll go for “roughing it”.) There’s the cooler for cold food, and bags of other food. And of course the tent and our clothing. There are separate bags of activities and snacks for the car ride. The dog is coming with us, so guess what – he has stuff too. He’s got his own travel bag for food, toys, his leash, poop bags, his water bowl, and treats. I realize the irony that spending two weeks in Europe, even for me, would require less stuff than three days of camping.

George Carlin understood all of our needs to pack so much when we travel. As he said, “even though you’re far away from home, you start to get used to it, you start to feel okay, because after all, you do have some of your stuff with you.”

That’s really the whole point I suppose, of carrying our stuff around with us. It is a matter of comfort and peace of mind. Some of us apparently need more comfort than others.

 

 

 

 

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Gold Medal Reality

Posted on August 16, 2016 by Real Women

hurdleAh, the twists, the turns, the speed, the jumps, the split-second decisions… could be the Olympics, or could be a day in the life of the average woman.

Ok, I suppose that’s a stretch. I mean, we’ve all seen Simone fly through the air, Katey speed through the water and Ashley leap and run. Let’s face it, they aren’t normal. Kind of superhuman as a matter of fact.

We watch them, fascinated, riveted to our seats, watching them soar – and we feel very…average. Un-athletic. Possibly even inferior.   These are extreme athletes who have devoted their lives to their sport, spending 365 days a year in the gym, or the pool, or the track. Going above and beyond to get to miraculous levels of skill and fitness and break world records. We feel good if we can get in a power walk at lunch time.

After a couple weeks of being pulled into the Olympic spirit, I think we all need to take a moment to reconsider our own greatness. Very few of us will ever get even close to the abilities of those competitors. But we have our own events that we master every day with style, skill, agility and strength. With that in mind, I present my recommendations for a few sports in the Real Women Olympics:

  • The Pet Hurdle. We love our domestic critters, our furry family members – and clearly they love us. They show us their devotion by being under foot All. The. Time. Simply walking from the bedroom to the bathroom, or making dinner in the kitchen requires nimble footwork to walk over and around these living, breathing obstacles. Extra points for mastering the trickiest move of all: stepping backwards when a silent pet has decided laying immediately behind their human is a really good idea.
  • Ready In Ten. This is the impressive and speedy evolution we accomplish when our family members suddenly want to go out to dinner, or a child needs to be picked up, a last minute date calls, or an unexpected work meeting is scheduled. The silver medalists in this event change from lounging in ratty sweat pants and old Tshirt, with messy hair and no makeup, to looking not only presentable, but Hot in 10 minutes or less. Extra points for doing so with only a hairbrush and lipstick.
  • Eight Hour Heels. The competitors we watch on TV have specialized, custom designed athletic shoes for their sport. That’s nothing compared to the stamina required to navigate life and maintain posture, style, and energy in heels for eight to ten hours a day, or for special events.   Sure, we could wear sneakers. But we want to look good while we conquer our worlds. Remember Ann Richard’s famous observation: “Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.”  Extra points for walking and standing a minimum of three hours in totally adorable shoes.
  • Nutrition with Five or Less. The Challenge: A hungry family. A tight time frame. Only five seemingly unrelated and useless ingredients available in the fridge. The successful R.W. Olympian in this category can make dinner in less than half an hour using such items as peanut butter, pasta, a carrot stick and bread crumbs. Extra points if the family actually likes the resulting meal enough to ask for it again in the future.
  • Grocery Slalom. This event is not for the faint of heart. Special skills and experience are needed to rapidly and efficiently wheel the cart down aisles around obstacles like the elderly, crying babies, and spilled produce, all while comparing prices and nutritional information to get the best cost and value. The true expert in this event not only knows where items are located by aisle number and shelf level, but writes her list in the order of the store. Extra points for completing a shopping list in under an hour.

And finally, our signature event: The Multi-Tasking Scurry. An R.W. is given a minimum of a dozen activities to be successfully accomplished – all while beating the clock. Such activities may include taxi driver duties, laundry fulfillment, creating a perfect work presentation, treating a sick family member, taking the pet to the vet, cleaning the bathroom, getting the oil changed, balancing the checkbook and coloring her hair. Extra points given if no injuries are reported and no one becomes hangry.

The key difference between the R.W. Olympics and those we’ve been watching take place in Rio, is that in our events, no medals are rewarded, and they aren’t over in a couple of weeks. None of us will be on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Our names will not be known around the world. We will not break any world records. But if we are lucky, we are appreciated. And our reward is collapsing into bed at night and knowing that we have the skill, the strength, the abilities and the desire to get up the next morning and do it all over again. 365 days a year.

We are Golden.

Posted in family, fitness, Health, home, home chores, housework, Kids, meals, Pride, Professions, real women, Style, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Now You See Me

Posted on August 7, 2016 by Real Women

mystery womanI was enjoying a pedicure at the nail salon. There were several of us lined up in our footbath chairs, doing the salon version of elevator etiquette — a possible quick simple nod to your neighbor, but no direct eye contact. When it came time for the technician to scuff the bottom of my feet, I promised her I’d do my best not to jump because I’m ticklish. The woman sitting next to me said “that’s the hardest part for me too.” We shared a chuckle and I glanced at her. She looked familiar. Like I think I knew her from somewhere in my past, but I had no clue where or what her name was. Within a couple of minutes she was on her way, and I was left to ponder “how do I know her? Or do I not know her?”

As we get older and have more life experiences, we naturally meet more and more people. So the chances of unexpected recognition are pretty high. Since many relationships are merely passing acquaintances or fade over time, we end up with SFF (Somewhat Familiar Face) Syndrome. And it drives me nuts. One glance of someone out of place and time, and I start a stream of brain history review, which is faulty at best: Old college connection? Past work associate? From the gym? (we all look a whole lot different in business attire and make up instead of workout clothes and sweaty ponytails)… Or perhaps a parent of one of my son’s past friends? A teacher from the school? Maybe even a store associate where I shop? Yikes, it could be anyone from anywhere.

The other day I was in the check-out line at Target and it happened again. The woman in front of me at the next register looked familiar. Soon I was attempting the subtle glance-without-staring thing. Eventually it came to me, I believe she may have been the mom of one of the kids in my son’s cub scout pack. He was in cub scouts nearly ten years ago. If it was her, she has changed her hair style (highly likely) and put on a bit of weight (who of us hasn’t?). But I couldn’t be sure, nor could I remember her name. And by the time I had come to this conclusion, she was long gone.

So what to do? Walk up and say “Hi, do I know you?” Or wait and see if the other person seems to recognize me and says something?  Ignore the whole thing and pretend I know no one?  I have considered what would be the worst case scenario in addressing the other person: possible awkwardness and embarrassment, or coming across like some sort of stalker with dementia.

I realize that I do the same thing with celebrities, but without the embarrassment factor. Quite regularly my husband and I may be watching a tv show or movie, and we will have a conversation like this:

“Wait, did you see that guy?”

“Which guy?”

“Wait until the camera goes back on the guy in the suit…. THERE! Him! He was in that other movie…”

“Oh, right, he looks familiar….but what the heck have we seen him in?”

“You know, it was that old movie with um… that other guy… the one about the mob….”

“Are you sure that’s him?”

“Yes, he had longer hair then…. do you remember? What was his name?”

And so the conversation will go on until FINALLY one of us will recall the other role the actor played, or even better, the actor’s name. Finally coming up with the answer feels like mastering some kind of long-involved treasure hunt, and we will sit back, spent but vindicated and proud of our intelligence.

I have one BFF who is really handy to have around when this happens, because she has an uncanny knack for remembering not just various actor’s roles, but their names, their marital status, and their kid’s names.   But for me, it is a guessing game every time.

Just the other day, I saw the preview for a movie that I’d like to catch. Again, there was a familiar face that I couldn’t quite place at first. Then I figured it out, and with great excitement mentioned it to my husband:

“I saw a preview for a movie that looks good… it has Hugh Grant and Glenn Close in it… no, wait, not Glenn Close…. Oh dang it, um…. Meryl Streep!”

“Is it a chick flick?”

“I can’t remember the name of it… maybe a chick flick, but I think you’d like it. Anyway, it took me a minute to figure out who the other actor is, but it’s the guy from Big Bang Theory..”

“Really? Which guy?”

“Um, oh, you know…. Not Raj…or Sheldon…..um… It’s the guy who plays Wojohowitz – no, wait, that was the name of the guy in Barney Miller.”

“Do you mean Wolowitz?”

“YES! That’s him!”

I sat back slightly exhausted “anyway… I want to see that movie….”

I have come to accept the fact that I will always suffer from SFF Syndrome, and I may as well make a game of it. Luckily, there are key people in our lives who will always be clearly and indelibly recorded in our memory banks. This morning I saw a woman who was not only our past Realtor but one of our first friends when we moved to our town nearly twenty years ago. I hustled right up to her to greet her, as I hadn’t seen her in many years. She is now 93 years old and sharp as a tack. She was happy to see me, and asked about my family – all by name. As I drove home, I thought “I want to be like her when I grow up.”

I’ll bet she never forgets a face.

 

 

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Seeking Support

Posted on July 31, 2016 by Real Women

bra_1

“Men will never understand how joyful it makes us feel to unsnap that bra, whip it through our shirt sleeve and fling it across the room. “ — Alex Elle

It is no secret that most of us women enjoy shopping. Sure, there are a few of us out there who’d rather have a tooth pulled, or would rather stay home in our jammies and order anything we need online rather than venture out to stores. But for the rest of us, we enjoy browsing, searching, and bringing home great deals, new styles, or those impulse “must have’ purchases.

Yet even for the strongest shop-till-we-drop avid hunters, there are a few items that fall low on our priority list, those items that are no fun — and instead of enjoying the thrill of the hunt, they are the ugh-I-don’t-wanna must-do’s. Those items include swimsuits, cars, plain white shirts, and bra’s.

At one point in our youth, shopping for undergarments held more allure. I remember buying pretty, lacey, just for fun lingerie in great colors and styles, with no consideration to support or comfort. That just didn’t matter. For those of you out there in this mode, please, enjoy it. Get those great sexy styles and wear them with youthful pride. Because some day, you will only be focused on what is comfortable, whatever puts the girls back where they should be, hides back fat, and comes in beige and black.

Since having to update and replace our undergarments from time to time is about as much fun as going to the dentist, most of us put little to no effort into the process. Statistics say that 80% of women don’t wear the right bra size. Mostly because we are in a hurry and just grab something we think will work, and end up with straps that fall down, bands that constrict, wires that poke, and either extra material that gaps, or our own natural extra stuffing that overflows the containment system.

This weekend a couple of my girlfriends and I discussed the need to get new bra’s. One of my BFF’s decided to do the right thing. She took the time to travel to a true lingerie shop to be fitted. She was measured by experts and given suggestions and options. Yes, there are experts in this field. In order to do the right thing, one must cast aside any pretenses of being shy. After all, your girls are under close scrutiny. But really, for most of us more mature women, after childbirth, mammograms, and all too frequently, breast cancer treatments, being shy about our breasts is a thing of the past.   My BFF described her experience with the sales woman who clearly has been fitting women for appropriate lingerie for at least 40 years. She spoke as if she smokes a pack a day, and she had no qualms in handling my friend’s girls to get them into the correct support system. In the end, my BFF invested in a couple of perfectly fitting, high quality bra’s that bring her ta-ta’s back up to where they used to be naturally in a truly comfortable undergarment. Now, keep in mind that doing the right thing requires an investment of both time and money. But with the appropriate care, her new undergarments will be comfortably supportive for years to come.

My other BFF and I were impressed. We know she did the right thing. You would think that we would take the initiative to follow her lead. To travel to see the aging yet expert lingerie professional, and be slightly manhandled into the right bra. But no. Instead, this morning we had a spare hour in our day, and we traveled together to the local department store, coupons in hand, and within 20 minutes we had each tried on and selected two each – one beige, one black. We went with the sizes that we have each worn for recent past history. No measuring, no guessing. No assistance from a pro. Yet we both felt proud and excited that we had finally taken the time to get updates. Our new purchases felt pretty good, supportive, and comfortable enough.   Yes, we are aware that they will wear out just like the last ones did, they may or may not be the exact right fit, and their support will start to fade until at some point we will be right back in the same situation, having to shop for undergarments when we’d rather shop for shoes and handbags. And our other girlfriend will still be there in her right thing products, looking perky and supported.

For now, though, we can cross this must-purchase item off our lists. And since we are in the latter part of the summer, we can breathe another sigh of relief that we don’t have to look for swimsuits — we can continue to get by with our well-worn twelve year old one-pieces. Maybe next summer we’ll tackle that challenge. I hear there are people who can help with that kind of purchase too — maybe when the time comes I’ll seek professional advice.

Who am I kidding… I know darn well I’ll be trying on suits from the clearance rack in a dimly lit fitting room, gauging my pudge in a private mirror. Some habits die hard.

 

 

 

Posted in age, assisting, beauty, clothing, friends, real women, shopping, Style, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

Uncharted

Posted on July 13, 2016 by Real Women

uncharteredLast week, as I drove through a neighboring town, I noticed a man walking his dog out of a ballpark area. I remembered that I had heard from someone that there were walking trails somewhere behind that ballpark, yet I had never taken the time to investigate. So the next day, I put my pup in the car, and headed over. I wasn’t sure what to expect, or really even where to go. I parked near a couple of other cars, and quickly found what looked to be a trail entrance. Off we went on our mini adventure. What we discovered was wonderful. I let my woofie off his leash, and we had a great time exploring a variety of walking trails, some in meadows, others wooded. There’s even a trail that winds all the way around a pretty pond. Since it was getting hot out, we decided to save the pond trail for another day. I stopped and had a short conversation with a woman who brings her dog there “all the time.” As we headed out, I felt kind of foolish. This little gem has been within 15 minutes of our home for nearly 15 years, yet I had never taken the time to stop and find out what was there.

It made me consider, how often do any of us take the time to explore uncharted territory? When do we dare take even a short break from our normal routines? I know a gentleman who includes one line item on his daily To Do List that will make him uncomfortable. So every day, he makes himself to do one thing that may be new, or different, or may just be an activity that pushes him beyond his comfort zone. No one forces him to do this; he just knows that he will be better for having done it.

I am on the verge of a fairly daunting dose of unfamiliar territory. After twelve years, I have decided to leave my current place of employment and have accepted a new job in a new (to me) industry. In the grand scheme of life, this is not an astounding feat of accomplishment. I am not climbing Mount Everest, I am not packing up and moving half way around the world, I am not giving everything up to be a Missionary in a Third World Country. But I am moving my cheese. And, in doing so, I am moving the cheese of those I have worked with. I am excited, nervous, and anxious to start my new chapter and discover new opportunities. Yet the departure from my comfort zone of where I’ve been for a dozen years is proving to be harder than I imagined. The realization that I will no longer see my current co-workers and friends every day and that I will no longer have that well-known comforting daily routine is harder, and more emotionally draining, than I thought it would be. But without venturing down new trails, without pushing ourselves to try new things and accept new challenges, we don’t grow and become stronger. At any age.

This week my son has been taking his Driver Education classroom training.   Yesterday I dropped him off at Starbucks on my way to work, where each morning this week he goes in to get some sweet flavor of iced coffee, relaxes for about half an hour, then walks down the street to his classroom. To learn how to drive. As I watched him get out of the car and stroll confidently away, I had two contradictory images flash into my head. One was the realization that very soon, he will be striding off to college, or off to a job, all grown up and on his own. The other image was a flashback to when he was just a little boy, and I wouldn’t let him out of my sight for a second when we were shopping in a store. And here I was, dropping him off to spend the whole day away from me, doing mature grown up things. Did this make me uncomfortable? You bet. In that instant I felt pride, fear, sadness, and a yearning for the old days when that little boy would run up to hug me, climb in my lap to read a story, hold my hand, and fall asleep on me.   In life, however, we don’t move backwards. We move forward. As I watch him grow and head into his own uncharted territories, I realize in many ways he’s forcing me to do the same. I have to let him become a man, to create his life, to choose his new trails to explore. And I need to learn how to let go enough for that to happen.

Braving those first steps down an unknown trail is simple, really. All it takes is courage, faith, several deep breaths, and a willingness to be a little uncomfortable. Then we can all check that item off our daily to do list. And be better for having done it.

 

 

 

 

 

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