Girly Shopping

My dad, when he wasn't feeling so well  in his later years, would tell my mom to go "girly shopping" in order to give herself some "her" time from taking vigilant care of him. That term then extended itself over time to when I would take her somewhere on occasion for the same reason. Dad would tell us to be sure and do some "girly shopping".  Now I notice my brother, from time to time, telling my mom the same thing. And, on the rare occasion that I look at a myriad of stores  for something specific to wear, I think to myself that I, too, am doing some "girly shopping".

 With that in mind, when you go "girly shopping" these days, ladies, do you find the selection a little...weird? I grew up with a lot of homemade clothes from a mom that was a pretty darned good seamstress. This meant I grew up looking at things like seam construction, straight-set darts, even hems, etc. Looking at "store bought" clothes today, it's pretty evident that craftsmanship in these areas has become secondary in clothing construction. And many of the materials? I've more than once heard my mom (as well as myself) use the term "rag bag" to describe the condition.  Add to this the actual designs of the clothing and a perfect storm is created. Many styles tend to look like maternity tops to this 50+ girly shopper--maternity tops with heavily plunging necklines. In other words...weird. Tailoring is a term that is sadly lost on present generations in this current massed-produced clothing market.

Now for a little 50+  year-old lamenting. Believe it or not youngsters, clothing used to fit nicely on people. Waistlines on pants were flattering, seams were straight, materials didn't fade with one washing, shoulder seams on shirts had central, well-fitting locations. Clothes didn't need to be constantly adjusted and re-adjusted while being worn--they just stayed put where they needed to be.  They were, for the most part, flattering to many sizes and shapes.

 We live in a society that seems to have tossed out any notion of quality. "Close enough" has become the norm. Even extravagantly-priced clothing doesn't insure that it is well made. "Designer" has become a generic term.

 When I get really desperate, I head back to the sewing machine and my old patterns. And, for awhile, I allow myself to get lost in carefully tailored seams, darts, tucks, and hemlines. The enjoyment of pressing in a dart to make it lay smoothly; the satisfaction of seeing a neatly done piece come to life on the dress form--and, granted, I'm far from a superior seamstress. But it's still fun. And my imagination can coax those seams to look a bit better.  I get re-fortified to once again brave the mess that is called "fashion".

 Mom is right...there's a big difference between "fashion" and "style". We girly shoppers know that. Yet my hope keeps hoping that someday it will all turn around and girly shopping will once again hold its traditional spot in my mom and my outings.  In the meantime, girly shopping has become more panning for gold. And, once in a great while, a little glimmer appears.

Have a fine day. 

An Open Letter to My Son and His Generation

Welcome to full-fledged adulthood. Just a heads up...some things have recently changed.

As students of some of the "best" education known to man, you are now finding yourselves as some of the most highly educated and unemployed groups in the United States in decades. Many of you are in deep debt, due to the need to get to this highly educated status. Ideally, this should have been the appropriate pathway to live lives that are, as generations of parents always hope, a better and more secure life than your parents have.

Then life got in the way.

The economy has tanked from the "job for everyone" times we once enjoyed while you were growing up. Fortunately, your generation has a wealth of online searching skills never before known to man. You are in no way hampered by a lack of communication tools. Your "backyard" has grown exponentially.

You're going to have to regroup for awhile. You'll probably need to put your dreams on hold for awhile. This will be tough, because you've been raised in an era when life was pretty darned easy. The lives you've led and continue to lead are pretty much unique to your generation: extensive travel; hopping on jets to travel coast to coast or beyond without a second thought; nice/reliable cars; neat toys; people doting on you pretty much non-stop. The people in your lives have always made sure that you were (and are) fed what you want to eat, and you sleep in comfortable beds in comfortable bedrooms in comfortable homes. This amazing lifestyle became the norm. That, in and of itself, can sometimes be a challenge. As Granny says, "It's easier to go up than down"; right now...you're pretty much all sliding a little down the economic ladder.

Time to toughen up a little; sorry, but we probably didn't spend enough time on that. Scaling back wasn't discussed--there was no need at the time. Good thing that many of your parents (and for sure your grandparents) remember how to do that from living that way before things got lots easier. Just ask--we can give you some good guidance.

Many of you will simply move home--probably not the best idea. You've been out on your own. So have your parents. Cramming back in together usually doesn't work. So, you'll need to find a little space that will keep you warm and secure. That's truly about all you need. Not what you want, but about all you need. Want can come later.

The good news is this--you can have a wonderful life. Not necessarily the one you've had mapped out for you the past 20+ years, but a wonderful life, nonetheless. You'll live more economically sound, and will learn how to live enjoyably without all the fluff.

It's nice to have nice and fun things; it's vital to have a soul that doesn't need these in order to live a full life. This time in your lives can be used to find your true spirits--and your true grit that will develop into a foundation of strength you can carry with you throughout your lives. You've been given a gift; a gift that shows what is most important. Find your center--refresh your soul. Then, with this new outlook, create a passion of what really matters in your life and then find an vocation that will support your avocation. I hope for you that the two will blissfully blend.

Welcome to the fold. A blessing upon each and every one of you.  

Happy Anniversary to My Sweetheart

Today is our 29th anniversary. Twenty-nine years is a pretty good length of time. Of course, it can't hold a candle to the 63 years my mom and dad had together, nor the 50+ years of my in-laws.

But still...a pretty good length of time.

Tom is at work, so when I got up this morning, I decided to pull my wedding dress out of the closet. No, I don't have it all sealed up--it's in a Rubbermaid box tucked in with my mom's dress and corsage from that day and the little box that held my engagement ring. I like to look at that wedding dress each anniversary when it comes to mind. I like the feel of the heavy satin; I like to look closely at the stitching and the impossible amount of lace and buttons on it. It was a dress made in a time when attention to detail was much more commonplace.

Then I decided to pull out our wedding photo album to take a picture and post the quintessential anniversary photo on Facebook to mark our day. I was a little surprised at just how rough the little book looks. It's not been through much trauma--the moves have been minimal and it, like most older wedding albums, has been tucked away from the elements. Nevertheless, it's kind of scarred up. All that "attention to detail" of the dress? That just didn't translate to the wedding pictures and albums of the 1980s...it wasn't quite there yet. It's amusing now to see, these many years later, after taking so many thousands of pictures myself, the "rough edges" of the photos. Shadows in the pictures, the background cross placed strategically out the back of my beloved's head, my misplaced bangs creating a space needing to be brushed, some very somber looks taken before the smiles came...a humbling group of photos. Nothing like the high-intensity, very stylish pics coming from weddings nowadays...nothing like that. Just pictures. But simple pictures of two people very much in like and in love with one another.

So, these lingering reminders of our special day on the calendar do tell a bit of the story of these 29 years. We're no longer those grinning kids in those photos with brunette locks, or locks at all--we're more like the album itself. We're a little rough around the edges, a little scarred, a little discolored. Like that album, we've protected those pristine, innocent, wonderful memories and hopes and dreams and made those 29 years pretty darned amazing. And, like that dress, the stitching is strong, the small details are still important, and the over-all beauty still lasts.

Happy anniversary, Tom...my sweetheart.

Dad's Fishing Pole

One of many traits I inherited from my dad was the love of fishing. Having a lake out my back door is a real boon; I love the idea of fishing for my supper. 

When I was little and we camped a lot on our vacations, we tended to look for camp spots that had fishing areas. Dad and I would fish while Mom cooked supper. I was still in the cane pole stage of fishing, and I loved to watch the big bobber he would attach to my line. He taught me how to be patient and not wiggle around while waiting for a bite. He taught me how to bait my own hook. He taught me how to take my own fish off the hook (except for catfish--they were to "finny"). He would always enjoy telling people we fished with at the campsites that I sang to the fish...I serenaded quite a few throughout the country.

The other day while I was at Mom's house and we were cleaning up the garage, she gave me one of Dad's fishing poles. It was welcomed, not only because it was his, but my current spinner's drag was really getting draggy and one of the handles on the crank was broken. It still worked...barely. One cast with the "new" spinner and I knew it would be great to use.

One afternoon, a couple of days later, I had a little time, so I decided to walk to the lake and fish for my supper. I wanted to try out the new pole and see how it worked. I grabbed my trusty fishing worm can, dug a few worms from the edge of the woods, and walked down to get the pole. I noticed it didn't have a bobber, so I added a small one. I cast out and immediately realized I had too much sinker for the bobber. When I brought it in, I noticed that it was a sinker that Dad had made. When I removed it, I put it in my pocket. Didn't want it to get lost in the tackle box. It brought back memories of watching him pour lead for sinkers of all sizes. I then noticed that the hook was rusty and would need changing. It gave me pause to remove it since he tied it on there. Those were his knots. I could see in my mind's eye him tying that hook on with the finesse of years of experience. I felt like I was removing all his presence as I kept changing out the parts of the fishing line...it wasn't a good feeling.  However, as I cast out that silky smooth line, I felt him with me. And, about 10 seconds later when that first fish struck the hook and bobber disappeared, I knew he was with me for sure.

Thanks for the fishing pole, Dad...and thanks for teaching me to fish. I know you're with me with each cast. 

The Circle of Life...Avert Your Eyes!

I was doing some pruning in one of the gardens today when there came an uprising of a couple of sparrows...they were chirping at the top of their lungs, hopping from plant to bush to tree. I stopped the pruning, slowly walked over to near the commotion, only to see one of our many cats with a mouth full of little bird. Ah, yes...that would cause a little commotion amongst the sparrows. Our old cat, Q-tip, had found one of the fledglings that had emerged from the nest hidden in the bush. This commotion, of course, brought in two more of the cats to investigate the situation and quell some of that built-in feline curiosity. The birds grew even more restless which resulted in even more chirping and bouncing about the landscaping. It became nearly impossible to me to continue with my pruning. Once again I walked around in the area where all the excitement was taking place only to find yet another little bird nearby on the ground. I attempted to scoot it under a shrub out of sight to the cats, but it bounded away as soon as I put my hand near it.

The excitement continued on and on. Q-tip set up camp with the countenance  of a Sphinx; her first hors d'oeuvre was a delight, apparently, and she was just biding her time for an encore of her gastronomic discovery. 

I felt sorry for the sparrows, but, then again, I know full well that all this food chain business is the circle of life. I could have jumped into the middle of the situation, fought for the birds' honor (and hides), and shamed the cats.

Nah...I took the Sgt. Shultz route (from Hogan's Heroes days for you younger readers). I saw nothing...I heard nothing...

Ignorance can be quite blissful indeed.

Have a fine day.

My Moral Disgust with Fast Food

{Maybe I'm just in an irascible mood like most everyone else right now, waiting impatiently for spring to, well, spring. I think it is more than that, however; after traveling through Appalachia recently and seeing how towns are being ravaged by fast food restaurants at the expense of good food restaurants, I found myself pretty generally disgusted.}  


I'm all for free enterprise as long as it doesn't destroy another's way of life. I've heard many of the arguments as well as the "oh, come on!" reactions to Mayor Bloomberg's push to ban massively-sized sugared drinks. This is a free country, right? We should be able to make our own choices, right?

Maybe.

Being a Libertarian, I tread around the word "maybe" with a great deal of caution. I truly believe in each person's right to live and let live until it infringes on one's neighbor's rights. That's where the "maybe" comes in to my thoughts.  

Tom and I went on a little trip to the East Coast and, during our travels, ended up in several little towns between here and there. The one recurrent thing in most every town was the lack of a good restaurant. Lots of fast food ala burger joint or convenience store, but very few places to get a plate lunch or supper with vegetables. And fruit? Not unless it was in a slushy or a wrapper. We figured this might happen, so we packed accordingly and had a supply of healthy foods with us. 

But what about the folks that live there? What about the folks that are met with so few choices every day?

I know...they can go to the grocery and cook at home. But really...how many actually do that anymore?

We all complain about the Walmarts and how they have destroyed Main Street and the town square. I agree. But what about all the fast food restaurants that have destroyed all the family-owned restaurants? They are to be mourned as well.

I have a moral disgust with fast food chains. Report after report has been published speaking of the addiction that these foods purposely bring to their patrons--the salt, sugar, and unhealthy fats--and they continue to  shamelessly keep building store after store with no regard to the local businesses they're destroying and the health issues they're causing in all age groups in the population, most dreadfully,the youngest. Now they offer all the $1 "deals", so a family (especially those on fixed incomes) can eat a "meal" for around $3 apiece...sounds like a real deal until you factor in that this will probably be a large soft drink or sweet tea with around 86 grams of sugar, a burger full of filler, a bun that more resembles the carb content of cake, and french fries that...well...they're hardly worth wasting words.

Yep, I'm pretty steamed about them. 

Fast food is wrecking our health as well as our economy. People eat these excess calories with little nutritional value and, in turn, over time develop obesity, diabetes, high cholesterol, high blood pressure. Health costs skyrocket as more and more of the population must depend on a steady supply of medications to treat these diseases. And more and more fast food places are built in every little, middle-sized, and large town/city...along the interstates...on university campuses. Everywhere.

The pursuit of free enterprise is one thing, but the pursuit with all disregard for one's fellow man (and woman and child) is just too much.