It's that time of year again. If you are a mother of young children, you know what I am talking about.
It's time to organize clothes and closets.
I despise this job.
There was a time when I found this job fun. Back when I only had Caiden. In fact, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Out with the heavy wintery clothes and in with the fresh, bright summery ones. All those cute little outfits that I could dress him in ... sigh.
But that time has gone.
The other point that begs to be made is that I only had to do it for one closet; and when I did do it, little Caiden was nowhere to be found. He did not care about his clothes. He is a boy. He was busy calculating or spinning or conquerring Mario. He could not care less about what is in his closet.
However, Marnie and Addison are not boys, and they do care (a lot) about what is in their closets. And, they like to share their opinions. So, while I am making piles, they are going through those piles. And re-organizing.
And the worst part (for me) is that I feel like I just finished doing closets. Well, Addie C.'s closet to be more specific ... click here to read more. Every time I put clean laundry away, I take note that Addison has no t-shirts or summery dresses to choose from ... because they are all in a bin somewhere in the basement. And, Marnie's t-shirts are looking a little small. But still, I drag my feet, ignoring that faint whisper that can be heard every time I open a closet door.
"Out with the old ... in with the new ..."
There is a certain orderliness that must be maintained to make this dreaded chore expeditious. Caiden's closet is easy ... first or last. Whatever. But Addsion's must always be done before Marnie's closet. That way, there is room for the things that Marnie has outgrown; because sometimes, the things Marnie has outgrown will go directly into Addie's closet. Otherwise, they go into a drawer until they do fit.
Honestly, why am I telling you this? Why are you reading it?
I have searched the Internet for tips and tricks ... something that will make things easier. Even fun ... maybe? One lady reported that she did her daughter's closet every two months. What? Does she have no life? How fast does her child grow? Although, I bet it takes her a half an hour to get the whole thing done ... instead of two hours. Or two days. However, I refuse to budge ... twice a year is the most I can tolerate - once in the Spring, once in the Autumn.
Ugh. I guess the only way to make it go away, is to do it. Just do it. Just step away from the computer ... and lock yourself in the closet, Jill. Go ...
I happened upon a Starfrit Salad Spinner a few weeks ago, and was flooded with memories. I could hear a little voice squealing with delight ... "Bin! ... Sin! ... Pin! ... Spin!!!"
Who gets teary-eyed over a salad spinner?
There was a time when I had a salad spinner. It was NOT fancy, at all; but it worked. Until Caiden found it. He had a fascination with all things that spun.
"Bin!" he would shout with excitement, as the item twirled around. He was about eighteen months, and I was pregnant with Marnie. Some days, when Mommy was especially tired, we would sit for an hour (or maybe two ... but don't tell anyone) and spin tops. Caiden wanted to learn how to do it, and he learns by watching; so, I spun tops. Caiden observed, beaming with excitement, and shouting ... "Sin!!" He toddled around the table , gathering the tops as they landed on the floor and delivered them back to me for another try. "Again. Again sin." We "sinned and pinned" until eventually he learned to do it himself and I developed tendonitis in my wrist.
It was during the spin phase, that my salad spinner was destroyed. And, I forgot about having one until recently ... when we got all healthy and became avid salad-eaters once again.
I have always loved to eat salad, but I do not love to make salad. Ordering a large dinner-size salad at a restaurant is a huge treat for me, especially if it has a homemade dressing. And, it doesn't have to be fancy with lots of stuff in it ... just fresh with some kind of crunch. But never fruit. Ever.
I love my Salad Spinner because there is nothing worse than dripping wet lettuce to start a salad. And, the spinner is a super easy way to fix that problem. Plus, you can spin a whole bunch of lettuce at one time and put the extra away for tomorrow.
The Starfrit Salad Spinner collapses for easy storage ... which is great for all those avid chefs out there who have lots of gadgets, like me. And, the bowl could be used as a serving dish as well. I love it ... it has almost made making a salad fun again. I'm sure this will wear off, but until then ... it's salads for everyone!
In reading this back to myself, parts of my post almost read like an advertisement. Ha! When I find something that I really love or that I think might make someone else's life easier, I like to share. And when you are trying to post every day for an entire month, sometimes you just need to talk about the stuff you like. So try a salad spinner ... I don't care what kind you get. But get one, and then you, too, can have salads all the time.
And, if you find a good recipe for a dressing, let me know!
So, it begins today. The re-making of Tiger Woods as a brand. Because the re-making of Tiger Woods as a man ... I am not so sure what to think. I can be a miserable bitch, so I am not just willing to forgive and forget. Not yet.
But I can still appreciate Tiger Woods, the athlete ... just not the man.
Once a cheater, always a cheater? Perhaps, not always true. But if Jonesy cheated, I don't think I could ever trust him again. However, Tiger didn't just cheat, did he? There was woman after woman, him actively pursuing a rendezvous with several simultaneously, bad-talking his wife to these other women, drunken parties that went on through entire weekends.
Would it be easier to forgive him, if he had one mistress that he seemed to truly care for? Instead of numerous hook-ups for sex. Just plain old, make-you-feel-good sex. As we all know, feelings do not have to accompany sex ... but it's nice when they do. And, as any good psychotherapist will tell you, emotionless sex is used as a means of filling some other void in your life, a way to make you feel good about yourself. So, what is it that Tiger Woods has been missing in his life?
We are being asked to put all this behind us now, and look to the future. The future of golf. It is the beginning of the re-building phase. The re-building of a brand and a market and a sport. Golf is nothing without Tiger Woods ... I think that has been established. The PGA has been falling all over themselves to welcome him back ... with his fans and the gawkers and their wallets.
The first phase in the re-build was the press conference. The press conference everyone tuned in to see ... where he begged for forgiveness and asked for a second chance. And ordered everyone to leave his wife alone. Perhaps, his last attempt at chivalry.
You have seen the commercial right? If not, you should. It is the second part in the re-building of a brand. He has said that he is sorry for his actions, so now it is time to consider what made him act out in that way, how he's feeling now, and what he has learned. Whoever put together this commercial was genius in my opinion. Many are saying that they are creeped out and maybe even a little offended by the use of Earl Woods voice. But not me ... I love it.
Here is why it is genius ...
First, it draws attention to the fact that Tiger Woods is just a person - like you and me. No different. He is someone's son and he has made a mistake. You have a child, right? What if s/he was in trouble and had made some bad choices in his/her life? It just so happens that Tiger Woods is famous and the most successful person in his chosen profession. But, he is just a person.
Secondly, aren't we all accountable to our parents? I mean, if you are proud of something that you did, don't you call your parents as soon as you can? I do. And if something happens that you are not entirely proud of, don't you just dread having to call your parents to tell them? I do. For whatever reason, we are kept grounded, to some degree, from the fear of getting into trouble from our parents. The commercial brings home that idea.
And, finally, we should all learn from our mistakes. It is what you learn that makes you grow as a person. And many times it is a person that you respect - like a parent - that helps you to come to those realizations. Obviously, Tiger and his father were very close, and I'm sure that some of the things heard in the commercial are the same things Earl Woods would have said to his son if he were still alive. Because we cannot go back in time and change things; all we can do is learn from our mistakes we have made in the past, and move forward. Not just Tiger, but all of us.
But maybe most important reason that this commercial is genius is that it has everyone talking. Everyone. Which is great for Nike, don't you think?
So, now we just have to sit back and watch. To see if he can move forward.
I am willing to go on record as saying that I hope he kicks some ass out there on the golf course this weekend. I want to see him win. Not for Golf. Not for Nike. Not for his father. Just for him.
That is the job of the title, isn't it? To grab your attention, to intrigue you. The title is the equivalent of men's shoes. What am I talking about? It's kinda weird, but one of the first things I notice about a man, is his shoes. Because you can tell a lot about someone by looking at their shoes, don't you think? Which is very odd for me to say, since the last thing I consider are my own shoes. Are they stylish? Or, would you have worn them twenty years ago? Is he wearing work boots? Or, wing-tips? Loafers? Try it ... you'll see what I mean.
I just finished The Stone Diaries by Carol Shields. The title intrigues me ... because the plural form of diary indicates that there is more than one. The Stone Diaries is the fictional autobiography of Daisy Goodwill Flett. And, it is so good that it is almost delicious. Wait ... I don't want to tell you that yet. I just want to consider the title.
The beginning is written in the first person, spoken by Daisy. She has written her story in sections ... each one dealing with an important time in her life - Birth, Childhood, Marriage, Love, Motherhood, Work, Sorrow, Ease, Illness and Decline, Death. The Table of Contents could provide the outline for almost any woman; and then, you fill in your own details. I am nearing the end of the "Stay-at-Home" portion of Motherhood Section, in my life; ' cause once you are one, can you stop being a mother? I am anxious to find out how the Work Section will read in my story. Perhaps that is why the author used the plural form of diary - each section is a small journal.
As the story moves along, it moves into a third person narrative. So, it seems as though someone else is telling the story of Daisy. I have never read anything like it and, at first, I couldn't tell if someone else was "guest-writing" Daisy's autobiography, or if she had taken a different approach to her own story. Daisy accounts for this shift by explaining that sometimes she feels like she is an observer of her own life.
"You might like to believe that Daisy has no gaiety left in her, but this is not true, since she lives outside her story as well as inside."
It is a really unique way to tell the story of you; by alternating from first to third person. Because sometimes it is easier to comment on yourself, if it is thought/said in someone else's voice.
Jill did get all the cleaning done today, however it may not have been the most thorough of cleaning jobs. For instance, she did not vacuum upstairs. But who ever goes up there, she thought. This is how she justifies her being unable to get all the housecleaning done in one day. So, you see, she is not really a failure, but a good manager of time.
See? It even makes me feel better to read it that way.
Stones are a theme throughout the story. Stone is Daisy's mother's maiden name. So, The Stone Diaries could just indicate the subject of the autobiography.
Daisy's father is a very successful stone cutter. His name is Cuyler Goodwill - don't you just love that name? Cuyler. He is enthralled with stones and dedicates his life to them.
"The miracle of stone," he says ... "is that a rigid, inert mass can be lifted out of the ground and given wings."
He uses stones as a metaphor when speaking to a group of women at their graduation ceremony ...
"... as you go out into the world, think of this miraculous freestone material as the substance of your lives. You are the stone carver. The tools of intelligence are in your hand. You can make of your lives one thing or the other. You can be sweetness or bitterness, lightness or darkness ... You can fail tragically or soar brilliantly. The choice, young citizens of the world, is yours."
Stones can be carved and shaped; and when left alone, they eventually disintegrate into sand, and dust. Which exemplifies our lives, doesn't it?
Yes, if you like books full of symbolism and open to interpretation, you will love this book.
There is a theme of loss and death throughout the book. Four characters lose their parents as youngsters. This is something I have written about before. Losing a parent, at any time, is difficult but never more so than as a child. Fear of abandonment follows you throughout your life. Daisy's mother dies in childbirth, and so for Daisy, her feelings of abandonment must be coupled with some feelings of guilt. Daisy's mother lost her life so Daisy could have hers.
"... and yet a kind of rancor underlies her existence still: the recognition that she belongs to no one. Even her dreams release potent fumes of absence."
As I noted earlier, Daisy describes herself an observer in her own life. This is how she protects herself from being hurt. She never has the opportunity to know the woman who gave her life; but a neighbour woman, Clarentine, steps in and loves Daisy as if she is her own child. But luck is not on her side, because Clarentine is accidentally killed in an accident when Daisy is eleven years old. Essentially she loses two mothers before she is a teenager. And so, psychologically, it makes sense that she would separate herself from others emotionally. She probably does it unconsciously; but she does it none the less. She must protect herself from feeling abandoned again. And in doing so, she is able to step outside her self and observe what is happening around her.
I bet you think I was crying a lot, don't you? Nope. Daisy presents the information in a matter-of-fact way ... part of the separation, I think. But she did make me laugh (out loud) a few times. The story begins in 1905, and ends in the 1990s. So, Daisy is not of modern times. She has some discussions about s-e-x with her friends, and later with her children, that are hysterical. There is also a scene where Daisy's future mother-in-law has a little talk with her before Daisy marries her son. She wants to ensure that her son will be cared for properly ... that he gets a particular cereal in order to ensure regular bowel movements and that his brushes and combs are cleaned regularly with a specific cleaning solution. Honestly, I was laughing out loud. Imagine my mother-in-law teaching me about the cereals that will make Jonesy happy and how to iron his shirts properly. Ha! Actually, I think Jonesy would have been more appalled than me. When I got married, I don't remember anyone giving me instructions on how to be a good wife. Although, my Mom did tell me that my home would be with my husband after we got married ... no matter where that took us in the world - something I have never forgotten.
In the last chapter, Daisy attempts to write her own obituary. I wonder if people do that as they age ...
"Don't forget to mention my years as an avid curler and my volunteering with the Liberal party," someone may mention to their spouse. This is what life becomes at the end; perhaps, to ensure they are remembered in the "right" way - which is to say, the way they want to be remembered.
I did love this book. I hugged it. Honestly, I did. When I was forced to put it down, I would it draw close to my chest before placing it on the counter. Until after supper was made or little girls were tucked in ...
If The Stone Diaries were shoes, they would be stylish, in a traditional way. A modern ladies pump ... something comfortable, that would go with many different outfits -pants, skirts, dresses; but not something you would wear to the grocery store. You would want to wear them; I mean, you would be excited to wear them ... you should be excited to read this book. So pick it up sometime.
Can I just be a girl for a minute? Like, a totally vain, superficial girl?
If you are of the male gender, now is your time to escape. Consider yourself warned ...
Girls ... it's my hair ... I don't know what to do with it.
If I had my way and I could act really spontaneously, I would go and get it cut really super short for summer. Something fun and sassy and cute.
But, if you know me even a little bit, you also know that I cannot act spontaneously. And, when I have acted spontaneously, I ALWAYS regret it.
Okay ... here is the problem. My hair is extremely long. What? That's not a problem, you say? But it is really long with no real style ... just long. It is healthy and I get compliments on it ... but it seems blah. For me. I started to grow it after Addison was born - that was about four years ago. Previous to that, I wore a bob in varying degrees of shortness ... but I don't think I looked great. Should I really be worried about how great I look? I keep forgetting that I'm old now ... so nobody cares.
Even though I had a short easy bob, I missed my long hair and thought that the option of a pony tail seemed like a good idea. So, I started to grow it. And once it reached "pony-tail-length," that was how it was styled on most days. Until, one day, when I took the pony tail out, I realized my hair had grown quite long.
And, I liked it.
I could pretend I was not forty years old. Because forty-year-old women do not wear pony tails ... their little girls do. Forty-year-old women are much too mature and austere to wear a youthful pony tail; they fear looking incompetent or unprofessionsal. Yes, a forty-year-old woman wearing a ponytail would just be foolish ... unless you are cleaning your house, or cooking up a storm in the kitchen.
But I am forty years old ... quickly approaching forty-one years old, if the truth be told. And yet, I often wear my hair in a pony tail ... to get it out of the way.
But if I always want to get it out of the way, why do I keep it long? Why not just cut it short and sassy and cute?
This is the dilemma ... it's hard to be a girl.
Why is it hard to cut your long hair off? Is it because, with each snip of the stylists shears, a bit of your youthful energy is lost? Until all that is left is a middle-aged woman, with a "Mom" haircut? But what is wrong with a "Mom" haircut? I am a Mom, afterall. And, maybe all that hair is just weighing me down. Hey, I just thought of something - do you think that if I cut it, I would lose a couple of pounds? 'Cause that could take all the apprehension out of getting a new cute and sassy haircut!
Can you hear me trying to tell myself it is okay?
I want to make a very responsible, well-thought-out decision. I have searched the Internet and found a website that will help you determine the shape of your face; and then, the hair style most suited. After completing the questionnaire, answering each question diligently, I waited eagerly for the answer to all my questions .... I can wear my hair in any style apparently. Helpful. But, I want something that accentuates my face. Ugh.
The problem is that I won't know if I like it or not until it is too late. I am not afraid of having short hair. Honestly. When I was seventeen, I looked through magazines until I found what I wanted, and then I did it. I went from long, long hair to a very short style. And the next day at school, people (and by people, I mean, girls) told me they liked it; but in the next breath asked what would possess me to chop off all my pretty hair?
I wish I could wear a cute pixie haircut like Carrie Mulligan. She looks so cute ... young and fresh. Then again, she is young and fresh. I would look like a Mom - not that there is anything wrong with that ... Plus, once I go that short, it would have to stay that short because I would never have the patience to grow it over my ears again. That's the hardest part ... growing it passed your ears, growing out the layers. Trust me on this ... I have done it and it is not pretty. Or, as Caiden would say, "It's nasty."
However, for Carrie Mulligan, should she decide that she wants long locks once again, it can all be done in an afternoon. It would take me years to achieve that same thing. Because I do not have a Hollywood bank account or a stylist.
Another thing to consider is that when your hair is really short, it looks the same all the time. Whether you are going to the grocery store, or cleaning the house, or out to the movies with friends, or attending a fancy wedding ... your hair looks the same. When your hair is long, you style it according to the occasion. When your hair is short, the only way to tell whether you are off to Walmart or a fancy night out for supper, is by the amount of make-up you are wearing.
Do you see how I am trying to talk myself out of it?
And so, it begins. Too much time has been spent on this already. I guess there is no right or wrong answer. And I do not have to decide right now because there is no expiry date on my long hair. Or, if there was, it was passed long ago.
I cleaned the entire house. Okay ... I didn't vacuum upstairs. But still, I cleaned almost the entire house.
I baked a pound cake and made vanilla ice cream from scratch. I made scalloped potatoes and homemade macaroni and cheese for our Easter dinner.
I did a little writing.
I fulfilled all Easter Bunny duties.
I watched two movies. Do you have any idea how long it has been since I watched a movie? I took the kids to see How to Train Your Dragon on Saturday. It was great ... well, most of the time. It was a little scary for little girls for awhile, but everyone was happy at the end. And, we all adore Toothless. And Hiccup. You will, too, if you see it.
And then, while fulfilling my Easter Bunny duties, I watched Julie and Julia. It was great and although I knew the premise of the story, but I had no idea how much Julie Powell's story parallels my own. One year to make all the recipes in one book; blogging as she went; trying to figure out who she was. Sound familiar? Except, one time, she got fifty-three comments on her post. My record is three. That's right .... three comments. Oh, well. It's only been a few weeks ... that is what I tell myself anyhow. Plus, I am doing this for myself ... not to see how many comments I can generate. But still ... fifty-three comments ...
I enjoyed some wine ... am really enjoying Pinot Grigio right now.
I ran into a friend at the grocery store and got caught up. Yes, I was one of those annoying women standing in an aisle chatting with a friend I had not seen in awhile. Deal with it.
I was the recipient of a new camera. The Easter Bunny remembered Mommy this year! Well, actually, Mommy repeatedly pointed out sales on cameras to the Easter Bunny and happened to mention a few hundred times that it would really help me out (for my blog, of course) if I had a camera that worked. But, honestly, it was a nice surprise. And, I also installed the necessary software on my computer. So, now I can post a "Wordless Wednesday" post, like all the real bloggers out there.
I enjoyed a fire in the backyard this weekend, too. It has been great weather. This went well with the Pinot Grigio mentioned earlier.
But the one thing that I did not do this weekend .... was read. Ugh.
