The Dress

Whenever a party invitation lands in my mailbox for a dressy occasion like a wedding or a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, I experience the same sequence of thoughts:  1 – Wow! This is so exciting! I can’t wait!  I’m going to have so much fun!  And 2 – Darn!  What am I going to wear?  I hope one of my dresses fits me.  Why didn’t I start working out (this time around) sooner?    

In anticipation of my friend’s daughter’s wedding which was last night, I decided to stop at a local dress shop a couple days ago. I already had a few dresses in my closet but had worn each over the years and thought a last-minute effort might yield a more pleasing choice.  I entered the store with the same mindset for dresses as I have with bathing suits:  Keep in mind my “problem spots” and cover them up. 

It’s a simple enough game plan.  I walk around the store, collect dresses that upon first glance may be potential candidates and then, with a more discriminating eye, determine the next step for each dress:  try it on, put it back on the rack, or leave the store.

This time, I was greeted by a very young and thin woman named Michelle who attached herself to me within seconds.  She asked what I was looking for.  I surprised myself not telling her I’m just browsing so that she’d mind her own business.  She proceeded to comment about my great taste (very smart business decision) as I contemplated various dresses. She brought me shoes to try on (and purchase) and then cheered me on with the one dress I was willing to model for her, all the while bringing me accompanying jewelry options to further enhance the outfit.    

While I really liked the WOW-factor of the dress, I explained that I felt it was a bit too revealing; I didn’t want such a low-cut dress that showcased my cleavage.  This particular body part isn’t one of the problem spots that I try to cover up, but it’s not one that I’m comfortable putting on display either.

“Girlfriend, Show what you’ve got!” she said.  “I’m flat as a board. You know how much fun I’d have if those were mine?”   Wow!  I had never thought about that before.  What the heck.  Why not show off these babies???  I took the dress – sans the shoes and jewelry – and proudly checked out, making this purchase more enthusiastically than any other one I can recall. 

My sexy-dress-but-not-for-me instinct kicked in when I tried it on later that night.  I wasn't nearly as enamored with it in my own home.  While it addressed my problem spot criteria and also offered its own striking personality, I began to question its appeal without Michelle cheering me on.  I ended up wearing a different outfit to the wedding.        

Wouldn’t you know that one minute after I entered the ballroom, a very attractive woman about 15 or 20 years younger caught my eye…and guess what?   She was wearing that very same dress, plunging neckline and all. 

Next month we have another wedding to go to. Want to guess which dress I'm going to wear?

Valentine's Day

What a blast I had trying to plan a special weekend for my husband David, a Valentine’s Day baby. 

I was in cahoots with Lauren, his daughter, who wanted to come home from New York City to surprise her dad for dinner. The fact that she reached out to enlist my help made this suggestion a most welcome proposal in and of itself, once we’d iron out the details.

Her plan to set foot in Cherry Hill around 7:30 pm on Friday night to begin celebrating was a tricky component; on a typical Friday we could be getting ready for bed by then.  That is a slight exaggeration, but not by much.

Her stepdad was kind enough to agree to pick her up at the train station and bring her home, since David prefers to steer clear of any restaurant’s Valentine’s Day madness.

My job was to delay mealtime at home with the hope that we could all sit down together for dinner when Lauren arrived.  If I were to return from work at my usual time of about 5:30, for example, David would expect we’d be sitting down to dinner by 6, especially on his birthday.  How could I prevent this from happening?

I managed to weasel my way out of this by conjuring up fairly acceptable excuses by David’s standards.  Instead of my leaving work at 5 as he was hoping, I texted him about 5:15 saying I’d need to stay till 5:30 or 6 to finish up; when he asked for an updated time of my arrival a half hour later, I told him I just remembered I have to pick up a few items for dinner; when I got home around 6:30 and he said “I’m so hungry! Let’s eat!” I told him I’m way too tired to sit upright without taking a short nap first; when he texted me a half hour later to ask when we’re having dinner, I had to say I’ll be down soon but I’m more tired than I even realized. 

Meantime Lauren texted me that her train was stuck behind a disabled train which translated to my having to further dilly dally around the house.  I actually managed to keep David from the dinner table till 7:45, which I found quite impressive – that, and my not spilling the beans, which was even more remarkable.  I was just having so much fun with this undercover mission.

But the real reward came when our Shea doggy started barking as the door opened - followed by David not knowing whether he should panic with a potential intruder, hearing Lauren call out "Happy Birthday, Dad!" and then seeing his facial expression turn to jubilation.  He really did say, without a spoken word, that her coming home on this particular day was too good to be true.

I told myself earlier in the night that I’d shed no tears – I’ve been working on trying not to be quite so emotional – and I did well until I turned around at one point and saw her leaning over and hugging him in his chair. 

Then all bets were off.  

Pinky

This past Thursday as I prepared to visit with my mom, I stopped by Target first.  This is my usual go-to place to pick up the mix of things I need to bring.   

As I finished with my list, I was drawn to the eye-catching, brightly decorated Valentine’s Day section with candy, cards, paper goods, little toys that would fit in goody bags for parties and so on.  I decided rather than rush by these aisles to check out, I’d like to indulge myself in some fun stuff – kind of like taking time to stop and smell the roses.          

I saw lots of my favorite candies, thought about which one I wanted, put the Hershey Kisses in my cart, then decided I’d devour them all so I’d better put them back.  Next I walked over to the toy section and thought about what I’d buy for my kids’ friends if they were 15 or 20 years younger.  I was glad I didn’t have to make that decision, because I would’ve been there at least another half an hour.  Clearly, it was time to check out.   

And then I saw the most adorable pink teddy bear about a foot high with a little heart sewn into her chest, following me with her dreamy eyes as I walked away.  I was smitten.  I wanted my mom to have her.  This was meant to be, falling in love on the way to my mom’s.  I hope I don’t sound too sexist by referring to the bear as a female, but she is pink, after all.  I will call her Teddi. 

I put her in my cart but an aisle later reminded myself that my mom has never been a stuffed animal kind of gal, so maybe this purchase isn’t smart.  Perhaps Teddi should be with someone else who’d appreciate her.  I could’ve taken her home, but since my doggy would chew her up like he’s done with all my other furry friends, I put her back on the shelf.

An aisle later, I felt sad. I went back, put Teddi in my cart, told myself no more second-guessing the decision, and I brought her to my mom’s. 

It’s normal practice when I get there to show her what I’ve purchased, but I became hesitant about Teddi when my mom seemed indifferent with the snacks and flowers this time around.

Somewhat nervous about the introduction, I proceeded.  “Mom, this is Teddi…” and then that smile I live for when I visit stretched across her face, from ear to ear.  My mom reached out her arms to take Teddi and then began making silly faces at the bear, giggling and telling me how pretty she is.  I couldn’t believe I almost left Teddi at Target.

I never expected my mom to embrace her like that.  My sister told me this afternoon – two days later – that my mom is still carrying on with Pinky (yes, my mom renamed Teddi) just like the day they met. Maybe I really don’t know my mom as well as I thought I did.  I can’t believe I’m still learning about her likes and dislikes at age 96.  I bet there’s a lot more to know.   

I’m happy for my mom, but I’m happy for me too. This serendipitous connection is a memory in the making.  There is no second-guessing that.  

Traditions

They come in all shapes and sizes, with each one offering a little something different that I treasure.

One such tradition that I enjoyed most recently was with my friends Cel and Tita to celebrate our birthdays.  Cel’s is 2 days before Tita’s and my birthday, which the two of us are very honored to share with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.   

Cel commented that the three of us only worked together for a year, maybe two, nearly 30 years ago, and yet our tradition has lasted multiple decades. What a strong bond we must’ve formed way back when.  It’s not a stretch to say that we all look the same as the day we met, either. 

At the time, we all lived in Philly, and none of us had kids yet.   Now we all live in different states, have blended families with kids in the same age range and, as you can imagine, have a lot to share.  For starters, we all love our lives as empty nesters, although two of us experience this just part-time for now, as our kids are still in college and return home between semesters. 

There may have been a period when we got off track and missed a couple years, but we haven’t skipped one in the last 10, and I hope we don’t miss any more.  There’s way too much to talk about, and it’s so much fun.  I know it’s cliché, but it’s true…there’s nothing like old friends.   

When we did the whole long googbye thing, I heard Cel and Tita suggesting we get together again this calendar year - maybe this summer for a half-birthday celebration.  YES...it's a date!  Then a second later another idea to include our husbands was thrown into the mix.  

I hate to be greedy, but I'll take all the time I can get with these two.  We're so fortunate to have each other...let's not take that for granted.   

   

Connect the Dots

Where would we be without our children? I know my kids wonder on a regular basis how I get through life without their ongoing guidance, but every now and then I wonder too.  Yesterday was one of those days.

I went out to lunch with my husband and his daughter, Lauren.  We were discussing phones, a somewhat routine conversation piece.  He asked me how I am enjoying my relatively new Samsung Galaxy S4.  I didn’t want to complain knowing how lucky I am to have a really cool smart phone so I said, “It’s fine.”  He said, “You don’t love it?”  

No, I don’t.  Every text takes me 3 times as long as it did with my iPhone, because I have to continually re-text the words since the wrong keys register, as if my fingers are huge monsters that are out of control.  Big deal the screen is bigger, which is why I got the Samsung initially, but all a larger screen does is highlight my spelling errors – ALL of them! – and the by-product is now bigger-than-ever illegible messages.  I’ve tried 2 keyboards:  the Samsung keyboard which doesn’t do auto correcting and then after my husband’s Google search, we experimented with the Jelly Bean keyboard which utilizes auto correct but not very accurately, especially if the keyboard picks up the wrong first letter of the word. I’ve also tried positioning the keyboard horizontally so the letters spread out, but the space is too wide for me to comfortably navigate.

I answered his question by saying I have trouble typing readable texts, and then Lauren asked if she could give it a try.  I was sure with her slender fingers she’d have no problem hitting the right keys.  Plus she uses two hands whereas I use just one so people more adept at bilateral hand usage may find this product very satisfying.  I would’ve bet the end result of her experimentation with my phone would be that I’d have to learn to reposition my fingers and touch the screen more or less gently (a crapshoot), thereby slowing me down dramatically and, I assumed, still leaving me frustrated.

But guess what happened?  Gibberish on my phone once again, this time by Lauren!  Imagine how relieved I was when I saw her quizzical reaction.  She felt my pain. 

I am lucky that her mind, like my husband’s, moves toward solutions vs. trashing the system, which is what I’d been doing in my head for months.   Not a minute went by before she introduced me to Swype-style texting, which allows the texter to draw a line from one letter to the next with one long motion.    

I could see her sliding her fingers around and smiling while explaining to me the proper technique to get the desired results.  I was hesitant to embrace this idea at first since I’m not good at drawing, evidenced most recently by poor results at Pictionary.  I also questioned in my own mind why there’s always so much we need to learn in life. 

Then it was my turn. She asked me to text her.  The movement felt like Connect the Dots.  Easy as pie. No editing required.

This seemingly small change has made a big difference in my world.  I’d begun to dread receiving texts because I’d want to respond quickly, but it had become too time-consuming and agitating to do so.  Often I’d start, see nonsensical words or phrases on my screen and quit altogether. Or I’d decide to email a response at a later date, but then I’d forget.  

This upgrade is a real game changer.    

Thank goodness we have children. 

The Bonus

My girlfriend took me out to dinner the night before my birthday.  Every year, I know she is going to give me a book and something else.  The annual book giving has become a tradition because she wants to make it as easy as possible for me to read the books she’s enjoyed so we can talk about them.  She also picks up something else, often from a trip she’s taken.  This time she had just been to San Francisco to visit with her son, so I was excited to think that she may have brought a piece of that fun city home for me.        

This year’s celebration was at the Library in Voorhees and, if you’ve been there, you know how dark it is inside. There appears to be no overhead lighting, just a candle on each table.  Each time I go, it seems harder to adjust to the darkness, but then I tell myself maybe it’s better that way.  Do we really want to see the carpet, or our table, or even everything on our plates?  I know the answer should be yes, but…

She placed my gift bag on the table before we sat down and told me how excited she is about this year’s find.  Not only could I see her huge smile – never too dark for that – but I could also hear her enthusiasm, adding to the suspense.  I just couldn’t wait the cursory half hour, so I grabbed it (why wait, after all?)   First I opened the card…very sweet…then the book…The Kitchen House…can’t wait to delve into that…and there at the bottom of the bag was a small box.    

I toyed around with the idea of putting on my glasses before trying to open it, but I’d have to fish around my purse for them first, and that was way too time consuming when she’s chomping at the bit.  So I put my naked eyes to the test and was thrilled.  I could see an elegant pendant, outlined in circles of silver with a colorful stone in the middle, but I couldn’t see the details since I didn’t have my glasses on and the room was so dark.  As I picked up the box to move it toward the candle, she reached for it too, which was a confusing gesture to me.  To avoid a tug-of-war, I relinquished the box to her, although I wasn’t sure why she was interested in holding on to it too. I was nervous for a minute that maybe I misunderstood – maybe it wasn’t what I thought it was, or for me, or something else was going on that I hadn’t figured out yet.  

“Look at this!  This is great!  You’re going to love it!” she said as she was moving her fingers around the chain of the necklace.  Meanwhile I had already looked at it and it was great and I was loving it as is so I wasn’t sure what she was suggesting. “Let me show you my favorite part,” she said with great satisfaction.  And then it was clear.  Although the necklace was lovely, what left a bigger impression on her was…

The CLASP!  “Look at this!” she exclaimed, showcasing it with her shiny red fingernails.  “It’s so nice and big. I can even open it myself, so you will be able to also!”    

Wow. She not only bought a beautiful necklace for me, but she gave me a very special gift that I cherish, especially as a middle-aged woman – a sense of freedom.  I now have a necklace – may even be my first, other than for the ones I can throw over my head! – that I can open and close on my own, that I can wear anytime I want (not just when my husband is home so he can open and close the clasp) and, in summary, that will allow me to keep my independence, spontaneity and sense of style too.  I’m all for these innovations – most likely by another middle-aged frustrated person – to reverse the aging process. 

The necklace itself is a stunning bonus!  

Getting On My Nerves

Listen up, girlfriends!

There are times when one glass of wine isn’t enough and sometimes a second one doesn’t do the trick either.  Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream (a pint, not a spoonful) may begin to make a dent, or the combo of wine + ice cream could turn things around, even if it’s breakfast or especially at breakfast.

Something else more substantial may be in order to truly relax the mind, decompress and replenish the ailing soul.      

Perhaps an afternoon closed off from the world with a good book or a movie or a walk on the beach or a pedicure or shopping or anything else that would feel indulgent on a regular day is fair game when we’re in desperate need of a pick-me-up, when life is truly getting on our nerves; when we are, in no uncertain terms, on EMPTY, having not one morsel left of energy, emotional or otherwise. 

My older brother Denis makes fun of the things I used to say when we were kids. His favorite expression of mine, which always reflected my angst of a particular person or situation, was that he/she/it was “getting on my nerves.”  I applied it liberally and emphatically when I was 4 and 50 years later I’ve learned to shout it out with tremendous gusto. 

Of course saying it to trusted people is what makes it satisfying, and I thank everyone (you know who you are) who has listened to my rants over the years. I’m convinced that, aside from stocking up on our best friends’ favorite ice cream in case they pop over, it’s our responsibility to help our loved ones talk out their woes while we listen, try to understand and not judge and give a nice big hug before we send them back out into the cold, harsh world.    

The fact is that there are times when life stinks, and as women we often put on a happy face even when we’re sad or frustrated, simply because we’re programmed to deliver what everyone expects of us.  Sometimes, however, it’s impossible to keep our mirage of a cool and calm exterior intact. Good news, Ladies!  We don’t have to try so hard...We can let go…We have a choice…We can focus on ourselves…We can have wine at breakfast.  And did you know that ice cream has no calories if you devour the whole pint at one sitting?