Introspection
A Good Day
On January 25, 2023 by Speranza
Earlier in the week, I gave myself permission to do whatever I liked. This is advice I frequently dole out to friends but rarely follow myself. I was free to squander time without paying heed to that mean inner voice which is poised and ready at any time of day or (especially) night to remind me that I should be more productive.
Or more attractive. Or more physically fit. Or more assertive. Or more of a risk taker, depending on the day.
But on this day, I allowed myself some simple, spontaneous “sparkles” one after another – fun, random things that seem too frivolous to happen regularly but really, why not? And we’re not talking white water rafting here or jumping out of a plane.
Just tiny pops of languid reading and relaxing.
Anxiety . Art for Art's Sake . Books
Villette
On February 17, 2020 by Speranza
I am now making a conscious decision not to bang on about how long it’s been since I last posted anything; suffice it to say, that the entire blog has been in a serious coma and I have been struggling to decide whether or not to pull the plug.
Today, I say, let us limp on a little yet.
Rightly so or not, I do feel a little proud of myself for recently finishing the brilliant but painfully slow read that is Villette, by Charlotte Brontë. The novel itself is not especially toothsome but necessary French translations and classical allusions demand constant referencing to the notes. I will say upfront that I had never even heard of this book till it was referenced by the queen of obscure cool, Patti Smith, who said that she was so moved by the book she had to write an alternative ending of her own.
Getting Older . Self-Esteem
Mutton Dressed as Lamb
On February 5, 2019 by Speranza
Many years ago now I was at a party with Some Other Parents and as the evening and wine progressed, one mother leaned in to me and nodded in the direction of the living room. There, a definitely attractive mum had decided to stand on a chair and dance in a manner usually associated with a pole. She was also singing in a Marilyn-infused whisper to whatever was playing at the time. (Alright, it was Meatloaf’s Paradise by the Dashboard Light, gack …) She was just on the cusp of that age where she could basically still get away with it, her body being firm, her hair artfully tousled and highlighted, full lips a shiny bubblegum pink.
But as the person next to me drily observed, “The guys are loving this – but if I stood on a chair? People would just laugh.”
And she was right.
Gardening . Gray Divorce . Self-Esteem . The General
The Garden of Weedin’
On June 3, 2018 by Speranza
I was never The Master Gardener in my previous life. I always loved the garden and had distinct ideas about what was swoon-worthy (tangled drifts of blue and white flowers; nothing too contrived; no tight dots of military arranged begonias). However, the reality was, I placed no real value on my own contributions and it was simpler to pass the reigns to my husband as he strutted through the garden with Napoleonic control, instinctively knowing what should go where and why certain colours were superior to others. My role (which we joked about frequently and the word “navvy” was often playfully supplied) was to clear out the weeds, bag and bundle the branches he tossed aside and make sure there was a pitcher of martinis and an elegant meal ready at the end of the day.
Cats . Self-Esteem
We All Scream for Eye Cream
On February 18, 2018 by Speranza
I’ve written before here about the staff at Sephora and the lift they have unwittingly provided when I have felt low or broke (or both) at varying times. Most recently I was trying to decide between various eye creams (which are please-give-me-a-whiff-of-oxygen expensive) but last a very long time and do provide a vital service. I also learned that even the tiny amount I was patting on with my ring finger (yes, I hang on their every word!) was excessive. As my Sephora counselor of the day laughed “Girl, you’ve been using enough there for four eyes!”
And so it came to pass that in order to make my decision easier, she spooned a button sized amount of the eye elixir into a tiny plastic sleeve for me to take home and sample. She also did not make me feel like I was down and out or an older woman who has to decide between make-up and you know, lentils for the week so I left the store, light and ready to begin afresh with my French eye cream that smelled very lightly of flowers. I was radiant. I was Chrissie Hynde. I was hopeful and happy.