Wednesday, December 29, 2010

I remember watching my girls grow up and reach certain milestones of independence. Of course, having the three very different personalities that my lovelies possess certainly added to their individual experiences and the show we got to see. One of the steps they each reached with confidence was their development of fashion sense and the accompanying ability to dress themselves it their desired attire. I believe the phrase I heard most adamantly and often was "I can do it myself!" This was often followed by the middle one having gone into the hamper to find what her older sister had worn the day before and putting it on, wearing it proudly inside out and sometimes backwards. Or maybe it was the youngest, who dressed in her first outfit, was not likely finished with her ensemble should the mood strike her and could often be seen with an additional little sundress worn as more as an accessory than an actual piece of clothing. She was also the one that when it came time for school pictures, would fancy an antique hanky passed down from one of her grandmas tied neatly around her neck and positioned just right to one side. Or perhaps our oldest, the most easy going who never really seemed to care what she wore, if it fit, if it matched, if it was hers or if it was clean. She was so laid back in those days, I am sure if we had let her run around naked, she would have, without so much as brushing her hair. She was an artist, a thinker, a doer. She left silly, mundane things like what to where to whomever had nothing better to think about or do. That was usually me.

I can do it myself! I imagine I probably said that to my mom as well at a similar time in my growing up. I am happy to say that I have been dressing myself, however successfully, for about 43 1/2 years and although there have been the panicked moments of stepping into an elevator heading to a job interview or going to meet a friends' parents for the first time that I'd wonder "Oh my God! Did I remember to put underwear on?" there has only been one or two occasions that I have actually forgotten to put on the ever important undergarments or perhaps have worn mismatched socks. For the most part I have been able to get up and find something to clothe myself in and then venture off into the world with no additional help.

That is, until now. No, I didn't break an appendage that is critical in the process of dressing, and no, I have not lost sight, although some might say that may just improve my color coordination and overall sense of style. No I needed help to "climb" into one of my Christmas gifts. My beloved went over and above this season and spoiled me rotten with a vast collection of goodies including the Reebok line of EASY TONE shoes and apparel. Let me just say, these are something else. The walking shoes are not only acclaimed for toning glutes and hammies when I walk in them, but they DO NOT look like astronaut moon boots. I know, right? Then, just when you think it can't get better, it does....Now there are EASY TONE work out clothes that all but lift the weights for you. All Ihave to do is put these attractive pieces on and not only will my muscles be working out even more effectively, taking me down to the svelte body I know I have hiding somewhere on the inside...way, way, deep inside..but I will look really super while doing so.

The top comes in blue and hot pink and with sleeves or without. Beloved bought me sleeveless, hot pink. Who knows me better than him? And then these amazingly sleek feeling black exercise trousers. I can not wait to try them on and since it has snowed and I most likely won't be "walking" for a bit I figure what the heck, I am sure I can wear these under more clothes as I help to shovel the driveway. Sounds like a plan, right? This is where I should tell you that if you are eating or drinking maybe you should stop. Just for a moment, ok, now I'll continue.

I am standing in my under-roos looking at these amazing pieces of exercise physiological technology before me and start to formulate my plan of action. (As I type these words, I find I am at a loss to explain exactly what I was thinking but.....) I immediately realize, while holding the top and feeling it's resistance to stretch, that I probably do not need to wear my exercise bra. This material will not allow any movement from the girls, this I am sure.

And so, as I have so many times before.....let's say once a day every day for the past 43 1/2 years which is about 15877.5 times, I proceeded to put my shirt on. This is usually a very simple exercise that typically takes no longer than say 7 seconds, 8 tops, with arms going in the "arm" holes and the head going straight up the center through the neck/head hole. Most days I put my arms in first and follow with my noggin, however sometimes I just feel like being a little crazy and I go head first always ending with the same results: my arms out the arm holes and the head...well, you get it. If I am making this sound too simple it is not my intent. It's just that I am trying to illustrate that I know how to do this. Seriously, I really do. Or at least that's what I thought.

Here I am putting my shirt on..arms first...nope...a little too snug but of course, that's part of the selling point...ok...deep breath....let's go with head first..... uuugghhh! Phew! Done. That wasn't so bad..nice deep breath....relax.....ok, now one arm up and in...up and in.....argh..finally up Wow! This stuff is great! I bet I have already burned 100 or so calories and I still have one arm and hole left. After catching my breath, I put in about 7 minutes for this second arm until I finally gave up.

Picture if you will, me standing in my under-roos, which look surprisingly like Granny panties, half in and half out of this hot pink contraption looking mighty fine, but turning blue and unable to move past this stage of dress. Have I mentioned that I haven't even been able to pull this material down OVER my ta ta's yet? Quite a picture, huh?


My middle girl came to my rescue. I can only imagine what she was thinking as she stood there appraising my predicament. When she finally stopped laughing, she was able to help me with arm #2 and after we both caught our breaths she helped finagle the material down over my bosom and all the skin accompanying them. All in all it was a productive 28 minutes and I was pleased that the pants took less than a 1/4 of the time. Let me just say, had my girl not come to my rescue, I don't know where I would be right now.

I guess I'll eventually have to take these clothes off to wash them but I'm going to try to get just a couple more days of wear first. I'll also be sure to have someone close by to help with my eventual exit and then freshly washed re-entrance since I know "I can't do this by myself!"


Yes. I know, it has been a while. I would like a chance to remedy that. Of course, I have missed you dear friend, BLOG. It's not that I wasn't thinking of you or hadn't thought to visit, I have been away for far too long, it's just that by my standards there wasn't much sense to come along if I didn't have much to say or bring to the conversation. It seems as though the only time anything I found even slightly interesting would pop into my head was very late at night when I was listening to the deep and steady breath of my dear one. Laying there, with my head on his chest and my arms tangled with his...I felt it a little rude to suddenly jump up and grab some paper and a pen to write down my thoughts and so......

As I said, I would like to go forward into the New Year with more to share if only with you BLOG and perhaps untangle myself every once in a while to make the effort to reach the paper or keyboard.

Friday, December 3, 2010

John and Martha had dreamed of their new home for what seemed like forever. Instead of the cold drafty place they had shared with Martha's family for so long, they would finally have a warm and cozy home their own with plenty of space for their things and for entertaining. They had moved in at the end of summer, beginning of fall and everything seemed wonderful. They had an easy time moving with the help that Martha's brothers had offered up and the weather had cooperated as the fall was more of an Indian Summer with warm days and very comfortable nights.

They settled into their routines and life was wonderful for this nice couple. They would lay in bed at night and sigh, both voicing their gratitude and joy for such a great find. They lived their little lives in their great big home and proceeded to build their family and LIFE WAS GOOD!

That is, until the day they noticed that the holes in the screens, or doors as they liked to call them, leading into their home were closed up tighter than an nun's....ooops....sorry.

Anyway, they scurried around to the other set of openings errr..holes ...that they had been coming in and out of. Nope..nothing. John looked at Martha and Martha looked at John and started to weep, gently at first until finally giving way to full blown sobs.

"Our children! Our children are in there. It's getting cold and we are here and they are in there...Oh John!" she wailed. John pulled her close to him and she laid her head on his furry chest. Stroking her hair, he assured her that all would be well.

I went up into the attic to retrieve Mr. Wonderful's new garment bag recently purchased for his numerous upcoming business trips. This garment bag was definitely an improvement over the previous one partly because of all the extra compartments for socks, underwear, belts and accessories but also because the last one had been handled by airport gorillas for some time and they had not been that gentle with it. It had fought the good fight but was no longer suitable for travel. Opening the knee wall door, I reached in and pulled out the new bag and with it a couple of half eaten acorns....hmmmmm.....this should have been my first clue...However, it wasn't until I went to open the garment bag up and realized that something had eaten clear through what should have been the zipper area.

Needless to say, traps were immediately bought and put into place loaded with peanut butter crackers and armed to shut quickly. 1 little, 2 little, 3 little squirrels... 4 little, 5 little, 6 little squirrels....7 little, 8 little, 9 little squirrels and then add about 4 more.....

It's important to share with all of you, especailly John and Martha that no squirrels, baby or otherwise, were harmed in the telling of this story. They were captured and removed in a humane fashion with "Hav a Heart" traps and though law does call for them to be exterminated...I didn't "have the heart" to do so, so they were "relocated" as a group to a nice woody area where they all promptly went up the biggest pine tree they saw. I also went ahead and left their new address for their folks to know where they may be reached and a bill for the replacement piece of luggage.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Mickey is a good boy. He knows he is. He gets reassurance all the time but still he likes that he knows it too. The lights are off except for the small one in the dining room, left on in case someone should wander down in the middle of the night and need to find their way into the room used primarily for eating. Mickey finds it amusing that the only one ever wandering around downstairs at night is him and he has excellent night vision so he really doesn't need that light left on at all.

Most nights he's downstairs, listening to the slow, rhythmic breathing of the house and all it holds as they sleep. Usually he thinks big thoughts until he finds it hard to hold his eyes open any longer and finally surrenders himself to slumber. Other times he gets lonely. Those lonely times are hard for Mickey because what he wants to do is just wake someone up to come sit with him...maybe lay down on the couch near him but he knows he mustn't wake anyone. He has learned from past experience that making noise late at night will only get him yelled at and that's no good at all. Instead, when he is feeling his total "alone-ness", he simply climbs the stairs and ever so quietly finds a place to rest his head. He must remember to get back downstairs early so as not to be discovered although he definitely leaves his mark. Hopefully, no one will notice.

It's comforting to know that almost everything in this house is in order and has order. This makes it easy for Mickey to know what to expect, what to do and where to be. The alarm goes off promptly at 5:30 am, but He doesn't get up until 6. That magic button is really something else stopping that noise and all but who knows? Maybe it just gets tired of being hit a couple of times each morning so it knows when to quiet things down and when to put on it's serious ring, the ring that will finally have Him up and at it for the day. Like a fine tuned machine, He gets up, goes directly to the dresser to pull out fresh skivvies, then into the bathroom for the three S's.... Shave - Sh#% - Shower. Ah, yes, enough warning to give Mickey plenty of time to get back down stairs, laying back down, closing his eyes, pretending he's been there all night. The rest of the house starts to come to life with radio coming from little her room and little her jumping into the shower for what should be 3 minutes but turns into 30..funny, she's the smallest of all but for some reason, she always takes the longest. Little Her is one of Mickey's favorites...she's very loud, has lots of energy and always talks sweetly to him. Middle-Her and Big Her are away at school..Mickey really misses them but loves when they come home because they spoil him with their affection and time...and love. But when it comes down to love, Mickey's real Love, it would be Her. Mickey knows that it's tough because of Him. Him never really wanted Mickey to join the family but because all of the girls wanted him so..... here he is. Her and Mickey get along swimmingly and She knows just how smart her friend really is. It's not that Mickey doesn't like others to know, it's just that he doesn't feel he has to share all he has. He would have you believe that Mickey doesn't understand what He is saying....not clever or some such nonsense, but She and Mickey know the truth. That's how She knows where he sleeps almost every night and how Mickey knows when to head downstairs. Still the scratch marks on the carpet are a dead give away, but for now She and Mickey will just play dumb.