I was perusing the ads – not because I have money to spare, mind you; but simply because I feel intense pleasure from looking – from deciding what I would buy, if I did, indeed, have the money to buy it. So, perusing ads … I come across a bra that boasts 62-different ways to wear it. Sixty-two, my friends. Now, admittedly, I do not get out much – but still, sixty-two ways to wear a bra?! Normal, racerback, halter, strapless, one shoulder, the other, front crisscross, back crisscross, backless, plugging neckline … hat? Earmuffs? I’m at a loss! Even if you do know the plethora of options, you probably need a detailed user’s guide to get ‘er done. Like getting ready in the morning isn’t hard enough? Obviously, I’ll be sticking with the less-advanced options – money, or no. The other is just too … scary.
I was the very definition of productivity this weekend. Here are a few random thoughts on the subject…
Firsts of the season. This weekend saw many firsts of the season – first glimpse of a butterfly, first ice cream cone, first time in shorts. The shorts – you’ll be glad to know – were relegated to my backyard. Had I actually gone out in public in such attire, my legs would have blinded anyone within a ten mile radius.
Lazy americans. The moniker “lazy american” has whole new meaning thanks to a trip to the recyle. A lady pulls in behind my car, throws her plastic in the bin, gets back in her car and begins to drive around me and several others. We, of course, had to plaster ourselves and our individual armload of recyclables against our vehicles to avoid being hit. We didn’t mind; after all, it would be one less person – because she was obviously leaving, right? Oh contraire. She was merely driving to the next bin. There was no handicap sticker; she was not have issues breathing; her legs seemed to work splendidly. Still, she drove. And we’re not talking an empty parking lot. She had to do some strategic maneuvering to get around people – who were actually WALKING from bin to bin – and myriad cars. But by george she was determined; she would run over a pedestrian if she had to, but she was not going to walk those extra five steps!
Sounds of the season. Saturday afternoon, the only sounds to be heard were that of lawn mowers and electric trimmers. One would die out, another would pick up. Sometimes they played a duet. I visualized synchronized trimming; a man kicking his heels while mowing his lawn. Yes, it was work. But it was work in the guise of a fresh start. Where once was frigid temps, there is warmth; where once was grey skies, there is blue; where once stark, brown branches, there is a blossom. So while such labor may turn to drudgery come fall, in the spring it is a symphony.
That’s right, my feet are naked today. I’m not really a barefoot kind of gal – but today I must. Today I am joining TOMS in “One Day Without Shoes” – an event aimed at raising awareness to the impact one pair of shoes can have on a young life. You see, we tend to take shoes for granted – some more than others. We think we will simply die if we cannot have that Christian Louboutin “Decollete” patent leather shoe with a red gloss sole – just one more pair for our vast collection. Yet for many children throughout the world, shoes are a luxury – going barefoot, a threat.
Let’s work on their behalf. Visit TOMS website to learn more. If at all possible, go barefoot today. But more importantly, take the issue to heart. Today, and each day hereafter, let us remember those who have no shoes. The next time we’re tempted to buy the latest footwear, let us buy from TOMS instead. One for one. I can’t imagine anything more beautiful.
Cats are a lot like royalty. They’re all about protocol. If anything deviates from said protocol you’re in trouble. Today served a fine example…
After spending some quality time in dressing rooms over the weekend, I decided there’s a slight possibility exercising twice a week isn’t quite cutting it. So I hauled my poor, pitiful self out of bed this morning to exercise. My cats ambled into the room, took one look, and froze in their tracks. Now I understand that I’m not exactly the picture of grace when I work out, but this – this was pure and utter terror. Their eyes were as big as saucers; their ears were back. They were crouched and ready to bolt at the first sign of attack. I am, after all, the girl who sits on her butt all day in front of the computer; if I am exercising WHO KNOWS WHAT COULD HAPPEN NEXT!!!
I tried to explain. “I’m exercising – people do it all the time … ” It did nothing to squelch their fears. As a matter of fact, they appeared all the more concerned. Teenie eyed me all the more suspiciously; Mr. Bean jumped up and sprinted down the hall.
I haven’t seen him since.
Something tells me this may be a bad sign…