The Clash

No, this posting is not about a punk band from the 70's. It's about a fashion rule...a rule that challenges this particular generation x'er who strives very hard not to be frumpy or out-dated. (I know my daughter finds this hard to believe with my love for turtlenecks which has everything to do with my quest for warmth.)

As many of you know, I'm an avid watcher of What Not to Wear. So, I've learned that it's okay to wear brown shoes with a black shirt, or red shoes with a purple dress, or beige pants with a white shirt. I know this, yes. Yes, I know this.

Then why do my mornings go like this?

Underwear...solid or stripe? color or neutral? Now which bra goes best?(Seriously, who do I think I am? A stripper? Who's gonna see me?) Anyway, back to my daily task...Shoes? Basically I teeter between black and brown, eventhough I do actually own some red and silver footwear. Now, pants or skirt? Generally, I'm still in neutral territory once my bottom half is covered. But when I turn to my upper-half, the color war begins and my mind is thrown into a nonstop whirl of panic. What shirt to wear with what jacket or sweater? Blue and green? Purple and red? Pink and orange? How about this navy jacket? But I'm wearing black pants! Oh, the torture. Shouldn't this be easy now that we have no limitations in the color wheel of fashion? First, it's white after Labor Day. Now it's whatever, whenever!

Perhaps I should begin watching my daughter more closely after all those years of pointing out her inability to "match up her outfit". Here she is, in purple suede boots, a red Coke t-shirt and a white sateen peasant top. Who'd a thunk? Apparently, she's got it. (Even when she's playing dress-up, like the photo above indicates...)

But she'd do good to add turtleneck to her wardrobe...

Women: Unite for Happiness!

There's a fairly high chance that this blog will be disjointed, similar to the chaos in my mind as we scramble to keep up with the general commotion that goes along with the banking world in January. (Not to mention that my boss, the president, resigned, the holding company handed out a different set of goals and we now need to completely revamp our strategic plan for 2009.) Anyway, today my general topic is on happiness. Here are a few thoughts:

1. There seems to be a direct correlation between a man's happiness and his ability to poop.
2. Doug asked me why I was so unhappy lately. Actually, it didn't even occur to me that I was unhappy. I've been too busy to think about it.
3. Friendships are critical to my daughter's state of happiness...no matter how much time she gets to spend with her cool mom.
4. My son is happy as long as he is not sitting still.
5. Coming home to a clean kitchen makes me smile.
6. Apparently, I was much happier as a teen. Mom was relating a story about me, in high school, being observed by another mother on how sweet I was. When I interjected, "What happened to me then?" Mom immediately confirmed the transformation of my posture. "Oh, I know," she replied, "Oprah just had an episode about hormones in your thirties and forties. You need to watch it." Touche'.
7. I stopped eating peanut butter the other day. The salmonella poisoning should start correcting itself soon. That will definitely make me happier.

Actually, I've always said that happiness is a choice, much to the irritation of others. So, I'm going to check out Oprah.com and figure out how to negotiate some happiness with my hormones. Wish me luck.

A Man's Man

I love my hubby. He's a real man's man. He likes meat, sports, beer, blood-n-guts movies, girls in bikinis, motorcycles, gadgets, and any war segment on the History Channel.

Guided by a strong sense of right and wrong, he greatly amuses his girly-girl wife. For example, today. On our way home from a biddy ball game (another blog in itself), Doug receives a call from an old high school buddy who wants to see if a few of the guys can get together tonight. Being the thoughtful person he is, he invited the guys to come over to our house and drink some beer. Good idea, Honey. We built an open floor plan in our cozy 1700 square foot house, which allows voices, especially drinking voices, to carry throughout. Doug's theory: I would prefer to have his drinking buddies at our house, so I could be closer to him.

"Hon, are you sure they just want to sit around our house? Wouldn't you rather all go to the bar?" I ask sincerely.

He's pauses, sensing a trap. "Well, probably. But would you be mad?"

"No,that's okay. You go have fun." My martyrdom will easily grant me a trip to the theatre to view a romantic comedy.

He seems a bit relieved, then asks, "What's my curfew?"

I ponder a bit. "Not sure. How about I call you if you're not home at a reasonable time?"

(Deep down, I know this won't work. Do you know there are no bars in this area with any cell phone reception? NONE! But I'm trying to instill in him the sense to come home at a decent time so I can sleep peacefully.)

The conversation becomes interrupted as soon as his remote discovers the Blue Collar Comedy Tour. Then two of the Jims show up to have a few beers, before they all leave...to have a few beers.

Here's the amusing part of the bit...as Jim, Jim and Doug are sitting around chatting and drinking, he's promoting my book to his buddies. Rubigunda. The book which revolves around the theme of motherhood and girl connections. It's sweet and makes me smile. That's my man's man.

But never fear...now their conversation has moved on to snipers and high-powered rifles.

Spend for America

I read an article in the Wall Street Journal this week about how Americans are savings more money these days. A good thing right? Typically, yes, but not so much in a recession. Well, that was the point in the article that stuck with me anyway. As I have often told my husband, I support the capitalistic structure of our country; therefore, I shop.

But the current state of the economy has caused me to pull back a bit. Despite the fact that my husband had one of his best years ever in farming. And that I have a good-paying job with little chance of losing it. And that I'm making boo-coo bucks selling books these days. (Okay, that might be an exaggeration...)

The other day Mom and I had a glorious day of shopping (meaning with no offspring). I came home with a clearance sweater, two sale-priced t-shirts and a non-puffy winter coat for Cole. That's it. Either my family already has way too much stuff, or the ubiquitous(1)doom and gloom sentiment of the country has tainted my psyche.

So back to the WSJ article. What do you suppose a heroin addict would do if he was told that shooting heroin was actually good for his country? You got it. So, for any of you with the means, I highly recommend you take advantage of the sales out there and get yourself a new pair of shoes. It's the patriotic thing to do. God Bless America.

DISCLAIMER: In no way do I believe that saving money is a bad idea. I'm a banker for goodness sake.

Footnotes:
(1) Don't you love that word? Say it a few times, it's fun. BTW, it means pervasive.

My Single Resolution

I haven't posted any blogs for awhile, despite the incredible amount of material that flashes before me everyday. No, I'm not sick or even too busy. The truth is that laziness has overcome me. Nervous energy has evaporated. A fidgety mind has been laid to rest. My physical drive dutiful performs necessary tasks to function, but not much more.

Seriously. I've spent more time laying on the couch, leisurely glancing at periodicals, reading books, dabbling with my writer's pen, playing board games with the kids, and even watching TV. It's been heaven.

For the past week, in one of those 'staring into space' moments, my brain has toyed with a few New Year's Resolutions. Eat healthy? Too prosaic. Exercise more? I get my thirty minutes a day in, usually. Get organized? Yeah right. Read more? Not bad, but it's still the same ole, same ole.

Then, in church today, it came to me. Be lazier. Perhaps the Holy Spirit or some saint whispered it in my ear. No matter, it just might be the best resolution in my 39 1/2 years! I'm really excited about starting on this one. I imagine my "to do" list will look something like this:

1. Glance over the Wall Street Journal. Skip all business-related articles.
2. Read.
3. Watch Oprah -- be careful not to become too motivated.
4. Write about anything that flutters through my mind.
5. Read some more.
6. Flip through my Lucky magazine. Pick out clothes I want but can't afford.
7. Visit with my kids about The Dark Knight or vampires.
8. Watch any movie with Doug, even if we've seen it 500 times.
9. Read some more.

It might not be easy to fit all this idleness in, but I'm willing to give it my best shot. There's some wash to do, so I think I'll cozy up on the couch and read.