Month: September 2018

Loving Lately

There is nothing like feeling uncomfortable, literally in your jeans that are getting too tight, than going full bonkers in a delicate-state-of-mind-moment and changing your appearance unrecognizable to your family and self to: A. Inspire you to make those changes that push you forward and make you grow. Or B. Accelerate the inevitable bout of upcoming depression. Either way, I’m all about the short hairstyles lately and my appointment is set for next week.

The key for me (which I have painfully learned through past experience) is not to do a drastic cut and color change at the same time. Pick one or the other. If you decide to go with a drastic color change (and you are not a spy or on the lam), may I also suggest from painful past experience to slowly transition into newly lightened or darkened hair with highlights or lowlights, etc to get accustomed to the changes rather than fully regretting your spontaneity. That said, I am also one to encourage others to go for it. You might love it!

Currently, I am cringe-in-the-mirror worn out with my ridiculous folded-pony/bun, lack of any style go-to. It’s just so easy and natural for me to do. Therefore, I have decided to make sure the hairstylist cuts it short enough that it is impossible to even reach a ponytail. I am forcing myself out of my comfort zone, in hopes that I will be inspired to make changes all around. Would I like it to look like the “face-slimming” style above? Yes. However, I realize that it also requires work, which I am likely not to do.

Ideally, my newly cut hair would just fall into perfectly coiffed place, and would accentuate my obviously small waist like the photo above (courtesy of eshorthairsyles.com). But for my daily routine of chauffeur, chef, housekeeper, etc. I really need a wash and go- or something equally as effortless. (I am incorrigible.) I think I would be happy with this (courtesy of stylendesigns.com):

Cute, right? Seems doable.

In my hair dreams, my artsy, pulled together, boho-chic, creative writing self would style it like this (courtesy of hercampus.com):

But if I don’t take the time to braid my long hair, what is the likelihood I would braid my short hair? Ultimately, I am certain that my hair will end up with a variation of what I know best. But I am set in my heart that even this will look better and more stylish than my current situation. (Photo below courtesy of byrdie.com)

I’ll let you know how it goes… Maybe I’ll even be brave enough to post a before and after? (Don’t hold your breath, I doubt it.)

Featured image courtesy of byrdie.com

Whiskey in a Tea Cup

Whiskey in a Tea Cup? Sounds like a fine idea to me. However, the notion that “southern women are a combination of beauty and strength” resonates with me even stronger. Not that I’m a southern woman, because even though I lived in Tennessee for 2 years, by all standards I’m a certified northerner. That said, I never realized what a southern woman I actually am! I suppose it does make sense. On my father’s side, the lineage is clear: German, Irish and French Canadian. On my mother’s side it went like this: GG (what we called my great-grandmother) was from Texas. After she was married, they moved to Tennessee. Along the way (like the Dolly Parton song), they moved from the Appalachians to Detroit for work.  My maternal grandfather also had roots in Tennessee. All that seemed important to the cross-culturalism of mom’s side is that we’re from the south and we know we have some Cherokee (My paternal great-great grandfather was Cherokee- which they always accredited for my high cheek bones.) Since I came from a stable loving home, full of support, holiday traditions, nightly dinners, large family gatherings- I never questioned the origin of the devotion to fried chicken and buttermilk biscuits. It was just all I knew.

Instantly, I was smitten with Whiskey in a Teacup. Reading it is like cheerfully walking down Familiar Lane; pleasant and homey with an emphasis on family and the good times. It reminds me of a single volume of an annual subscription of Southern Living Magazine through the life and eyes of Reese Witherspoon. She gives family recipes (which I always appreciate) and party menu lists for year round celebratory occasions. Do I want to have a Kentucky Derby Party complete with pretty dresses and oversized hats? Yes, I do. And I want to serve Reese’s suggested Mint Juleps and Chocolate Derby Pecan Pie. She includes entertaining anecdotes from her childhood and endearing memories of her grandparents, mom, brother, family and friends. She made me want to put on my pearl necklace and get a dog. Reese had me reminiscing about my own grandparents’ huge garden and my grandpa’s work habits, from dawn to dusk even after retirement. In such a BFF kind of way, Reese takes her personal sharing even further- by suggesting music play lists for events like a “Southern Party” and road trips. She gives instructions for how to use hot rollers, and diagrams for how to set casual, as well as, formal table settings (with clever ways to remember). She gives hostess tips, attendee advice, flea market strategies, book reading suggestions, and gift ideas for a variety of occasions. I too love monograms Reese! It is an art under-appreciated in the north, and so is wall paper, soul sister.

My affirmations of my southern upbringing (in the north) were confirmed by the big hair and love of make-up Reese attributed to women of the south. (However, it’s possible that in general the Jersey shore has the whole country beat.) Nobody outdoes my mother. She has never been caught in any photograph, broad daylight, or getting out of bed without her hair done (big) and lipstick applied. Of course, Reese explains that although it rang true for her grandmother, it seemed to skip a generation on her mother. I admit, it seems to have passed me by. But it is already strong with my daughter – a real northern “Southern Belle” in the making. Although the “put your face on” approach to life for me is reserved for special occasions, the love of holidays and the joy of over-the-top decorating for every celebratory day on the calendar has not been lost on me. It is in full effect. Full Effect. From the stair banisters, to the mantels, to the (respective holiday) motif dishes and serve ware, to the annual traditions of gathering and food; holiday celebrations are cherished in my home. I love dressing up for the holidays. And I get it when you say “…We like having things to look forward to–times that we know will be entirely about family and togetherness and the kids and the things that really matter…” Yes, ma’am.

Thanks to Reese Witherspoon’s newly released book, I understand so much more of my southern roots! My mom’s sayings, (Reese’s “Betty-isms”), i.e., Pretty is as pretty does and To have a good friend, be a good friend, her affinity for equestrian themed art, and her natural ability to hostess, her understanding of complimentary fabrics and patterns… My love of Bluegrass, the banjo, quilts, and Dolly Parton… So, even if I’m in Michigan, Reese is in California, and you are where you are… Our southern connection transcends state lines. So ring the brass bell and raise our teacups, because I’ll toast to that!

Nuts & Lights

When it seems like it’s everybody else… it must be me.

I do realize I have created my own situation. I’m coming to terms with it. I’m nuts!

My kitchen island light burned out last week. We smelled something burning and the light didn’t turn on… it was over. Which is fine because I never liked having Kmart-ish fluorescent bulbs over my kitchen island anyway. The problem lies in finding time to shop for a new fixture- but, even more-so, when the time permits, making decisions… alone. First things first. The kids are starting school. As much as I try, I’m really not good at organizing- not really. I remember meeting at a coffee shop last year with a few room moms to plan an elementary school party when they were talking about the difficulty of balancing it all… I made a random (true) statement about just being glad my kids had their snacks in their backpacks. I’m not exaggerating when I say I got a couple side looks and a full blank stare into my eyes. (This is why I shouldn’t volunteer for anything. On top of being erratic, I really am an introvert, and like to avoid this kind of stuff at all costs.) I was serious. In seven years, and with three of my four children enrolled in public school, I may have forgotten a snack twice. That doesn’t nullify the fact that it feels like an accomplishment every time it makes it into the backpack. My life gets hectic. There are definitely those mornings when I haven’t grocery shopped in close to two weeks and I feel like a genius that I remember we have half of a sleeve of Ritz crackers in the pantry and I find a bag of microwave popcorn I can nuke. Success. 

But whatever. Right now, I need to buy a light, and I don’t want to do it by myself. I need someone to bounce my thoughts off of! I am a person who prefers not to socialize, who can’t make a decision by myself. What?! I’m ridiculous! My husband really doesn’t care what I buy. Scheduling time with him after work with the kids’ sports schedules is nearly impossible anyway. My mom has been up north at their cabin literally all summer. She is my “go to”. That is the drawback with placing myself in solitary confinement. When your only friend is away… (big, deep, sad breath). The truth is I really detest asking people for favors. Loathe. Which is why I bring all four children to my son’s orthodontist appointment; I sit in the lobby with three children and occasionally walk back to check on him. I take all four of my kids to my baby’s physical and we cram in a tiny pediatric examination room. Is it convenient? Not at all. It is what it is, and what I have made it. In fact, I thought of a great book title for myself, considering I’m a little kooky (and I’m doing this Paleo/low carb diet thing again), “If You Are What You Eat, Then I’m a Nut.” Good right? Very Erma Bombeck. 

Let me shed some more light on my situation. (Pun intended… so clever.) I haven’t seen my high school best friend in like 3 years. No wait, we ran into her at the hospital last year. Regardless, I still consider her one of my best friends. If she needed me to pick her up from an abandoned warehouse in Detroit at 2 am I would tell her “I’m on my way.” I love her wholly. We are friends on Facebook, and I know what her children look like. We text on birthdays… I would still ask her to be my bridesmaid (like she was 17 years ago.) We just never see each other.

It’s the same thing with my best friend from college. I’m crazy about her. Last year, I moved about 20 minutes away from her. She came to my house shortly after we moved in, and we have met once for dinner since; which, considering we have gone years practically without contact let alone a visit, is pretty good. I love her being and her family and her company… I know she feels the same way about me. Which is perfect and enough. Our plans for last Friday went something like this: On Monday we texted how much we missed each other and how we have to get together. It resulted in arrangements that she would let me know where her daughter would be cheering on Friday, so my family could come to watch. Then we would all go out for ice cream or something afterwards. On the following Saturday, I texted her to sarcastically thank her for the non-existent forwarded information. To which I acknowledged that I was not at all upset (or surprised) over and even slightly grateful for, because I am anti-social. It might sound pathetic, but it works for us.

So, back to the light. At this point making dinner has worked out okay because we still have daylight at night. But packing lunches in the morning by the recessed light over the kitchen sink and candlelight is getting annoying. Alright I haven’t lit a candle yet, but it’s possible I yelled at the kids not to shut the refrigerator door because I needed the phosphorescent. Maybe shopping is not difficult for some people. Certainly, now that most of my kids are back in school, it should be easier. No. Labor Day weekend was filled with closet organization for all of my kids, weeding the front yard, attaining last minute school supplies and a mandatory pool party on the holiday itself. (I didn’t want my kids to think summer was all work.) My daughter started gymnastics after school on Tuesday. I began pre-school at home with my youngest child. We are in the process of selling a house- which has required paperwork and phone calls… on top of the bills to send out at the beginning of the month. On Thursday, my son had a follow-up pediatric appointment (which we attended with just the two of us, YAY!) and started soccer. This week, I’ve been attempting healthy dinners every night to nourish my little learners. Also, I started this stupid diet, and I battled a sugar withdrawal headache for two days. (Don’t mind me I’m hangry for carbs.) Who has time to read their own books, or write, or blog, or shop for a light?

But the light fixture is a must. I know I can’t avoid it, and really don’t want to eat in the dark this winter. So, who else can I ask? For my self-imposed situation, that leaves my sister. I love my sister as much as any human can love another. She is the best. She’s solid. She also has great ideas and style. She is very dependable… and the worst person for me to ask a favor. I’ll explain. She would do anything for anybody she loves, and even strangers. She stretches herself so thin and to the point of exhaustion so much for others that I rarely can muster the nerve to ask her to do anything. In addition, making plans with my sister is an Erma Bombeck story. We’re both kind of nuts. (Sorry Ray.) For example, on Labor Day we are at her house for a pool party. In between watching the kids swim, splash, eat, etc., we make small talk about how we’re going to start walking when the kids go back to school. She wants to start right away, and I mention that I really need to shop for a new kitchen island light. I (reluctantly) share that I could use her help making a decision… we end up scheduling for Friday. There’s a major heat wave so I bail on walking- besides I’m busy. On Thursday night, I send her some ideas of fixtures I’m looking at on-line, and the different reasons I like them. I’m already sending anxious vibes about not knowing what lighting store to go to. (I’m also trying to think about how I need to pack myself and the four kids for our weekend trip. I see the stack of dishes from dinner that I know I need to clean up before we head out. I’m thinking about the Costco sized bags of stinking chicken breasts and frozen broccoli etc., that are going to be rotting in our garbage cans while we’re gone since the refrigerator in the garage quit working; When? I don’t know, but I found it yesterday. I start to question the idea of something wrong with our electric system since the kitchen light was fried and the refrigerator went kaput?) On Friday morning, my sister sends me a text asking if we’re still going. (She knows me so well.) She also mentions that she’s babysitting in the middle of the day during a lunch hour. She adds that she needs to let the neighbor’s dog out before we leave; that she has to drop off a prescription for her brother-in-law’s mother-in-law’s friend; that she promised to pick up some dry cleaning for an elderly lady she met at the grocery store; and, that she has committed to taking homemade organic nut and gluten free granola bars (which will need a quick 15-20 minutes in the oven) to the PTO meeting after school. She remains hopeful, but I know full-well that when she leaves that PTO meeting, she will no-doubtedly be late to her son’s football game- since she has also promised to water her out-of-town pastor’s family’s flowers before sundown. I add that I just got a text from my middle schooler saying he forgot his poster board for science class, so I need to drop that off before his fourth hour. (Okay, okay- some of that isn’t true, but you get the point.) Light shopping will have to wait.

So, like my husband predicted a week ago, I’ll probably buy a few lighting fixtures on line- that I will return (i.e., have him return so I don’t see people) because I hate them… after we get home from our weekend getaway.

I already know.

I need some almonds.

The End.