The Bombshell Strides Again

Just toodling along this afternoon running some work errands, and since one errand was right beside one of my favourite consignnment stores I thought 'why not just pop in and see what they have in nice dresses.' Just to look. Maybe get some new ideas for New Years Eve. After looking at picture after picture of gowns but mainly trying on cocktail dresses, I just didn't know what I wanted.

And, I wasn't feeling particularly like my fabulous Blonde Bombshell self after some unsuccessful shopping on Sunday and a disappointing trip to the scale this morning. But jaded and cynical with a piquant hint of hope, I went in. Quelle surprise! There were 5 gowns in my approximate size. Not all of them were stunning, but you really can't tell until you put them on so into the tiny change room I charged while the excited shop lady handed me more stuff through the curtain.

Item the first - black georgette slip dress with beautiful shimmering black beadwork flowers and a scalloped split front hemline to die for. It was soft and drapey and feminine. Sure, it needed a nip here and a tuck there. A little lower neck line. Some different support. But it could have worked. And been lovely. And 're-wearable' which I really don't remember being a criteria, but the shop lady thought was worth mentioning.

Item the second - flowy navy georgette with spaghetti straps and top band beading and a front slit and full A-line skirt. It was long and flowy even when I slid into in-store shoes to test for height. It cried out 'that lady's going dancing' (that a quote from the last time my 2 yo nephew saw me in a dress). Elegant, but understated. And let's be honest - we hate understated as much as we love dancing.

Item the fourth - when you step out of the dressing room and the only man in the store says "WOW" you don't keep looking. And when the va-va-voom gown comes matches some very NEW YOU va-va-voom shoes you say thank you very much I'll take it all. .

No description. You'll just have to see it when it's time. And don't even try to guess - it's not at all what I was expecting and exactly what I want. Funny how life is like that.

I want to squeal. And do a little chair dance. And especially I want to wear those shoes and that dress and see jaws drop. Eeeeeeeee! The bombshell is back baby, top to tail!

plus none

I'm going to an exquisite wedding on New Year's Eve. I've been very excited about it since the very bride called and let me know a few months ago, and then I got the elegant invitation this week and was inspired all over again. It's going to be a full-on celebration of love and music and cocktails and dancing, and way back when I first got wind I promised myelf that I would go with someone who loves, adores and wants to create a relationship with me, or stag. No seat fillers need apply.

I've been shopping and planning and scheduling. I have dress ideas (see below) and shoe ideas and hair ideas. I have before plans and after plans. I haven't eaten dairy or sugar or grains in a week, and will continue that for another 33 days. I'm planning to be my absolutely most stunning, confident me.

I am not going to settle for less than everything I've pictured. And yet, I wish I'd checked +1 on the RSVP. I wish that I knew that there'd be someone to dance with me. Someone remembering where I put my camera down, and carrying the room key since there's not room left in my beaded clutch. Someone to put his hand on the small of my back as we walk out of the room at the end of the night and guide me safely home.

It's going to be an amazing night. I look forward to celebrating the beginning of my friend's new life. I know it's going to be magical. And ... I wish I hadn't checked Plus None.

TI♥T: Epiphanies

Picture me, sludging home on the snowy, slippery sidewalk this afternoon - my hat low over my eyes, weighted down with bags and a swirling mind, and insulated from life around me by layers and blinders. I was stuck in my head swirling with anger and sadness and hurt and disappointment. Composing in my mind all the things there are to say. And all the things I wish I'd said and haven't yet, and all the things I want to hear. Just when I was about to give in and start saying those words, I experienced the simplest magic.

Just ahead of me at an intersection, an elderly lady couldn't manage the incline from the edge of the road to the divider that separates the turning lane from the main road. The curb has been lowered for accessibility, and the resulting slope, covered in compact snow, completely stalled her. After two slippery attempts, she seemed afraid to even move for several seconds. 

Instead of just driving by, or honking, or being frustrated, the gentleman in the car she was blocking put his car in park, put his hazard lights on in the turning lane, and got out to help her. There were 4 or 5 cars behind him, but no one honked or revved an engine. It was the most generous and spontaneous act of humanity I've seen lately. And then he saw me about to cross as well and smiled. 

That was all it took. He smiled. I took her other arm and helped her across the street as he drove on. The lights changed when we were mid-intersection, and again it seemed as though all the drivers had all the patience in the world for us. The sidewalk on the north side of the street was clear, and my charge assured me she was only going half a block down the street, so I let her go.

She thanked me profusely, but I really think I ought to have thanked her. All day I've kept having to rescue myself from the swirl of my own petty imaginings. And for the cost of a helping hand in the direction I was going anyway I was given an epiphany: in any instant I have a choice to be caught up in myself and my petty concerns and bullshit or I can look around, seewho needs me, and lend a hand. 

that girl & that boy

When I was a young girl, and even into my teens, it never occurred to me that I couldn't be or do whatever I wanted to be or do. That thinking just didn't exist. My parents were very clear that my sisters and I could have any future jobs and lives we wanted. They encouraged us to be open, to explore the world, and to try anything that interested us.

For me, that often looked like disappearing into the worlds created in books, which had me excel at school. But I also played a wide variety of team and individual sports with fair-to-middling success. I took piano lessons. Played the flute. Acted. Sang. We hiked and did farm chores and pretended to drive Dad's Willy's Jeep. I skiied at 5, and fished at 7. If I wanted to try something, by and large the access was there, and I was encouraged and supported in making it happen.

In all of those amazing experiences though, one was always missing. There was never a time in my life when I got to be 'that girl.' In grades 10, 11, and 12 I spent much of my social time with a group of three guys (Snake, Mongo and Blinky - seriously!) who treated me like any one of them. I was never sure they knew that I was there because I wanted Snake to notice me. Like, really notice me. We'd hang out at each other's houses. Cook dinners en masse. Study. Act/direct in the senior play. Snowmobile in the winter and hit the lake in the summer. And the whole time I was just one of the guys. Being 'that girl' in that environment wasn't an option. I graduated High School having never been on a date.

You'd think that'd be something you get over eventually. Snake and I reconnected a few years ago and he apologized. He said he knew, that he'd wanted to be with me to, and that he had his own things going on back then that kept things the way they were. It was a great conversation that cleared a lot up for me. And yet, it's been a lifetime (or at least several decades) and I still wonder - will that story that I'm just 'one of the guys' ever go away? 

I know who I am. I know I can be and do anything I set my mind to. Some people think I should be happy with that. But I want to be and do everything AND be the girl who gets the boy. Not just any boy - THAT boy. Until this week it's never occurred to me that I could be THAT girl and get THAT boy. I thought it had to be one or the other, and that even then he probably wouldn't be THAT boy.

But guess what. I want to change the world and come home at night to someone who makes me smile and laugh and sometimes cry and who finds me in his sleep every time he moves. And when THAT boy is ready, I guess I will be as well.

How To Rock a Snow Day, and in the Process Fall in Love

1. Preempt the snow day by getting an infection and creating a sick day. Go back to sleep.
2. Wake up only when darned good and ready. Listen to the wind howl for a while from the warm nest of your bed.
3. Have a long, hot vanilla-spice scented bath. While you're there, finish a novel you've been reading forever. Frequently add more hot water.
4. Create an urban-bunny snow warren: weather-proof an open-ended box by putting it in a garbage bag and lining it with a towel you never intend to dry human skin again; place beside his outside pen; shelter the whole thing with a bath mat. Spend a moment being glad you're not the rabbit.
5. Bundle up (long wool coat, fleecy snow boots, mitts, scarf) and sally forth into the world. Trudge through snow, uphill both ways to drop-in and get a prescription from the doc. Since you're now only a block from Home Depot, pop in and buy stuff to weather-proof your very drafty bedroom window. Find and drink something hot and steamy (and preferrably spicy)
6. Buy a really cute hat and prove to your BBs that you are so a hat person.
7. Have a conversation or two with people you love and adore and who love and adore you right back.
8. Stock up on victuals - you never know how long this weather might last!
9. Flirt with and be flirted with by the charming pharmacist you didn't know worked just a block away. Decide you have a new favourite pharmacy.
10. Bring bunny in early to thaw out. Replace his ice with liquid water.
11. Fall in love with your city, your life, and yourself all over again.
12. Turn off all electronics, open a bottle of pinot grigio & cuddle up with a steaming bowl of chicken veggie tikka masala and a steaming TV of Mad Men.