Category Archives: MUSINGS

April

It’s April first, April Fool’s Day. While I used to enjoy a good prank on this day, even when it was on me, it’s not my thing anymore. Since I’m going to be staying home all day, just the hubs and me, I’m pretty sure any Fool’s day foolery is off the table. Though Mother Nature sort of got in the game with six inches of snow and overnight temperatures fit for Christmas not Easter.

Yes, it is Easter today too! I’ll be popping a few Cornish hens into the oven and boiling up some eggs. Maybe I’ll devil them. The irony of deviled eggs on this days tweaks my funny bone.

It is also the first day of my birthday month. I turn 60 this year. Did you hear that? SIXTY. It’s a big deal. I’ve thought about making a bucket list, though I’ve never resonated with that fad. At this point, I’m afraid there would be only one thing on the list. Take each day as it comes, welcoming any opportunities for adventure and new experiences that cross my path.

Not that I’m not a planner. I’m a planner. I’ve set goals all of my life and I’ve worked my plans to achieve them, and achieve them I do gosh darn it! Whew, just typing that out exhausts me with the weight of it’s rigid insistence.

I recall the lyrics to a Pam Tillis song I used to love to belt out: “Mi vida loca, over and over, destiny turns on a dime. I go where the wind blows, you can’t tame a wild rose; welcome to my crazy life.” I miss that spontaneous me.

As this new decade begins, I’m feeling much more that I just want to let go and go with the flow, like a jellyfish—let the current take me where it will. Jellyfish get a bad rap what with being spineless drifters and all, but let’s face it, the ocean is the ocean; does it matter where you float as long as you are still floating?

 

So then, this is my bucket list:

  • Float like a jellyfish
  • Ride the wind like a seed
  • Go where life takes you
  • Enjoy the ride and scenery
  • Don’t worry so much about where you end up

 

 

 


I’m Bringing Back Loungewear

For the past few months, I’ve been scouring the retail racks and online boutiques in a quest for something resembling loungewear. I work from home and even I have to admit that I’ve let my daily uniform become truly lack-luster. Summer usually means some version of a flowing sundress, but winter finds me layering up leggings, loose sweaters and on really cold days a ratty, old robe over it all.

Up until now, I haven’t had much luck finding anything but yoga pants and big shirts, but that’s about to change. I’m in like Flynn—well, maybe. It all depends on overcoming a dislike for sewing that stems from the Home Economics teacher from hell crushing my early enthusiasm with her wicked, stinging tongue. But desperate situations call for desperate actions; I’m ready to move past that trauma.

Since menopausal midriff bulge has made its home on my previously svelte figure, I don’t know how to dress anymore. Nothing seems to work for my body type. If I choose comfort, I look dumpy. If I choose fashion, I look like an over-stuffed sausage, bulging and about to burst out of my skin.

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My childhood recollections keep harkening back to the mid-century heyday, when I remember mature women wearing crisp house dresses, smart suits cut fuller in the hips with shorter waist jackets, and those fabulous palazzo pants with long flowing vests.

I can see my auntie Jane in her chic loungewear, with a slender cigarette holder poised at her lips, smoke spiraling from behind a long finger of gray ash precariously dangling from the tip of her menthol Newport. Clearly she was channeling Auntie Mame (their names rhymed, at least).

And now I can bring it all back. Well, maybe not the smoking. Okay, definitely not the smoking, but for sure the loungewear—and the house dresses, thanks to more than 83,000 vintage sewing patterns now available at Vintage Patterns Wiki.

This is pure genius.

I ask you, what better serves comfort and style for the fuller bodied, post middle aged, wanna be diva than the classic house dress? But not just any house dress; I’m talking about the wrap around dress.
I’ve had the pleasure of wearing a wrap dress. It was a fine woven, ivory silk with full circle skirt that I scored in an exclusive shop in Aspen. That was in the mid 80s and it’s entirely possible the gem had been hanging there waiting for me since 1964. It was definitely something Betty Draper would have worn for a dinner party.

Wearing a wrap dress feels like wearing a robe. With the right style and cut, it definitely doesn’t look like wearing a robe.

Take this Butterick 6015 pattern with it’s sly and slimming V in the wrap. It positively takes 15 Screen Shot 2018-02-10 at 11.02.56 AMpounds off a pleasingly plump body when done in two tones like the black and white illustrated.Screen Shot 2018-02-10 at 11.09.02 AM

For everyday wear there is this snappy little number 7753 from Advance. I’ve never heard of that brand, but I’m willing to give it a try. I see year round comfort and fashion here. Light cotton, with bare arms and legs in the summer. Add some fun, chunky jewelry and a pair of sandals and I’m ready to open the door to the UPS or Fed Ex guy without shame.

Come winter, a black, long sleeved, mock turtle neck and black leggings underneath will keep me toasty warm but looking hip—sort of an artsy, beatnik vibe.

And did you notice the sizes on both of these? Fourteen and sixteen. Nuf said.

And then (be still my heart), there is the loungewear, long beads and mules de ri·gueur.

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I’m digging the second one from the left with the midi-length vest.  I think black, for the body suit, and I’d probably modify that to a two-piece ensemble. This crone is too old to shimmy in and out of jumpsuit every time I have to pee—just sayin’.

As for the Auntie Mame cigarette holder, I’m thinking a magic wand fits the bill. Endora has nothing on me.


Blessed Imbolc – Gently The Light Returns

Sunrise - Gently the light returns

The wheel of the year turns in its own time. Sometimes it seems not fast enough for us, and others it seems to speed along at breakneck pace. By our human nature, we’d all like the season we most enjoy to last the longest. For me, living in northern woods bordering Canada, that season is summer. I want it to arrive sooner, stay longer and take slow leave.

When I want to understand the wheel of the year, I think of the ancient peoples who followed it.

Based on the seasons, it marked the times of darkest winter, when survival depended on warm shelter and stocks of food, on trapping or hunting—or perhaps migrating to warmer climates for nomadic tribes. It followed the cycle of growth in the return of vegetation, foraging and gathering. Later it marked the times of cultivating and planting, then harvesting, of tending stocks and the timing of breeding.

Spring and fall are what I think of as in-between seasons. We watch the signs, consumed with anticipation of longer daylight and warmer weather, or filled with urgency to prepare for the dark and cold half of the year.

Imbolc marks an in-between time. The sap begins slowly rising up from the roots into the tree trunk, making it’s way to branch tips. We cannot see it, nor hear it, but we know it’s happening and that it will soon be time to tap the trees. This is the time of the earth’s quickening. Any woman who has borne children knows that time, when the child growing in the womb first begins to stir, as gentle a touch as a fly lighting on your arm.

Spring is stirring in the womb of mother earth and soon, like a woman whose belly swells round with life, the signs of the new season will burst forth around us.For now we wait, we anticipate, like zealous detectives we scrutinize the earth form for visible signs of spring’s impending arrival. When it seems there are none (or none we can yet see), we create celebrations to honor them, perhaps to coax them along.

Imbolc is more widely known as the secular holidays of Candlemas Day and Groundhog Day. A folk rhyme told, “If Candlemas Day be sunny and bright, winter shall have another flight.” Of course we know if the groundhog sees his shadow on February 2, we are in for six more weeks of winter.

Even during my lifetime these predictors once seemed reliable, but in recent years, the weather patterns seem to fluctuate wildly within all the seasons. Those of us connected to the planet and nature in our spirituality, see this subtle and have no doubt the climate is in upheaval—a transition phase marking a change.

This Imbolc, spend time in nature wherever you are living. Connect with the Earth Spirit through the souls of your feet walking her surface, through the scent of the air in your nostrils and the feel of it on your skin, through the vision of the landscape beyond your doorstep. Look for the signs she is giving you. Listen to what she has to say. Honor her as Mother and thank her for the life she gives.