When I was a young woman just starting out in the working world, I often worked with “older” women whom I looked down upon for being perpetually cynical, negative and hard-boiled. Often they were also the kind of women who might sit on stools at the bar in their fifties, sharing limericks (and possibly Tequila) with sailors. As a confident newlywed, I once admitted at work that my new husband and I had opted not to have a television at all.
“Ha!” one of them snorted. “I give you 6 months!”
Since I felt infinitely superior in my own lofty, more evolved sphere, I was able to let this kind of low remark pass but I remember thinking privately I will never become like them.
I don’t think I have, exactly; but post-divorce, much older now, I see the whole thing with a different lens, fully appreciating the loss of a soft, golden innocence, the piercing sadness of betrayal and the kind of resentment that can form hard, sharp crystals in the heart. Continue reading
It’s been ages since I posted here and I have been wittering and fretting about whether or not to even continue the blog, but ultimately, it’s a good discipline for a writer and frankly, the most instant way I know to be published. Which is often satisfying. All of this can make one feel extremely down of course (particularly when combined with a nasty virus that has only just released its claws from me) and I have spent rather too much time dwelling on Donald Trump, my own money worries, Black Mirror which I will never watch again as I only slept 92 minutes after watching two episodes, Donald Trump again, repetitively bad Tarot card readings and the atrophying effect that lack of collagen is wreaking on my person, which I like to confirm daily by going to the worst lit mirror in our house and hanging upside down.
I believe that this act may be the evil twin of doing Positive Affirmations.
Oh, and also wondering if I should be scanning the Book of Revelation with a fresher, keener eye for detail since the world we are living in at the moment seems poised for something that is um, not greatness. Continue reading
I absolutely love getting a deal and since I am not independently wealthy I don’t enjoy idle, recreational clothes shopping because it rarely meets my own criteria of 1. finding exactly what I’ve already envisioned and 2.a suitably marked down price.
I also don’t need yet another striped shirt that I will loathe by the time I get home (and that I actually knew in the store that I didn’t really care for) and worse still, that I paid too much for.
One of the things that I like best about myself lately is that this seldom, if ever happens now; I’ve bought too many items in my life because the assistant took a great deal of time with me and I felt badly or, I was desperately hungry and couldn’t face another fun-house changing room mirror.
Which is why many years ago, I became what is now widely known as a Thrift Shopper. Continue reading
I was reading lately that gardening fills a void for some women as they mature and become “empty nesters.” This is a term I personally loathe but it’s an economical way to get the point across. As I was kneeling in my garden today, gratefully breathing in the heady scent from my two lilac trees and allowing myself to pause, whenever I liked really, to admire the iridescent navy-blue throats of the grackles that everyone seems to despise but me or to visit with the tiny toad who crossed my glove and then became very still, one foot up, one foot down, in case I had seen him (which I had and was delighted) I thought how different this experience was from an earlier version of my-gardening-self some ten years ago when it was imperative to get those vegetables planted, perennials divided and seeds planted in a kind of dizzying Operation Desert Storm long weekend which bore no resemblance to the calm, contemplative, almost Zen-like experience I enjoyed today. Continue reading