i felt compelled to tell him. the models in the bra commercial? they are not me. i do not resemble them in any way. not their perfect hair. not their perfect skin. not their perfect…yeah…anyway… “that’s not me,” i told him. he stared at me.
choosing things to wear – particularly to special occasions – is a big deal. we women take that seriously. it needs to be just right. not too much. not too little. not too overstated. not too understated. not too fancy. not too plain. not too overdressed. not too underdressed. there are just sooo many parameters, so many things to consider, so many unknowns…which adds up to much pressure.
then…drumroll…add to all that the factors of menopause and aging and whatever-perfection-there-was-giving-way-to-gravity and you have one helluva what-to-wear predicament.
so, this should never be underemphasized.
the grading curve of how-does-this-look is an absolute modifier.
particularly for partners of women who ask for an opinion.
we want the truth – don’t let us wear THAAAAT – but we also want some grace.
i mean, we are NOT the glamorous bra models in the commercials. we are real-life women who have had real-life physical challenges and babies and stresses and aging and a few too many chips and too few protein drinks, not hydrated enough and overly saturated with the emotions of modern day life, with chutzpah and flexibility and many, many plates spinning at the same time.
so, we wanted to watch a movie. you know, just a simple movie. it had been recommended to us by a friend and it was on our list-of-things-to-watch-someday.
we cozied up on the couch, ready.
he had the remote and the will.
but no power.
whatsoever.
we must have been through the “siri, find….” at least five times. we knewww it was out there. but, on what service? in what app? through what streaming? on what channel?
through the years we have had chromecast, a firestick and apple tv. our tv – itself – is not technically of this era. it’s from around 2008 and is non-smart. all these remote devices have helped. but a potato is still a potato and our vizio is still non-smart.
we persevered.
surfing through hulu, apple tv plus, netflix, amazon prime, youtube movies, spectrum tv, we finally found our movie on peacock. by then, i was already yawning.
but we still persevered.
we spent about fifteen minutes registering and signing in and purchasing and choosing.
i pined for the days of the tv across the room, connected to the antenna on your roof, maybe with a set of bunny ears on the tv stand to help. those days when you simply walked over, turned the dial and the tv came on. then you’d turn the other dial and three major stations would show up. and you’d pick from the shows on those channels, maybe looking up in the daily newspaper (laying next to the couch) for a description of the show or – if you were in-the-money – look it up in tv guide. then you’d settle in for a fine time with the folks in petticoat junction or with granny and jed and elly may and jethro in beverly hills. or maybe gidget or hogan or all in the family or three’s company or mash or happy days or mork and mindy or laverne and shirley or…. the list is endless. but it was all simple. walk to tv. turn on. turn channel dial. turn volume dial. walk back. sit down.
ultimately, we got there. it was like an everest summit. we watched the movie! the whole thing. without interruption and – miraculously – without falling asleep or having the remote ask us – having sensed no movement, no actions on our end – if we wanted it to “continue” and telling us to push “ok” (assuming we could find “ok” on the remote) to stay powered.
it was a personal triumph for us. a team effort. success!!
the other day we were at the library. we passed by stacks and stacks, rows of dvds. we both laughed, knowing we’d be back to check out some good old-fashioned movies. easy-peasy. put it in the dvd player and push “play”. unless, of course, your remote is switched to hdmi mode. in which case, good luck.
she said it: “we’re 9 to 5’ers!” and i laughed. “so are we!!” i replied. and, most days, it is pretty much true. sleepynightnight time comes earlier these days – with exceptions – and so does the first coffee in the morning. much earlier. and i like it this way. there is nothing like the sunrise streaming in the window, spilling onto our quilt, dogga at our feet and hot coffee in our hands. perfection.
in life, though, neither of us has spent all our time as a 9 to 5’er – in the traditional sense. though we have both had positions in professional arenas, we have mostly spent our lives either working for non-profits or in entrepreneurial projects and ventures. neither of those are 9 to 5 jobs. they are whenever-wherever-however-you-are-needed jobs.
from an earnings point of view, these are usually not spectacularly paying positions. they are not laden with benefits; they generally do not provide any kind of annuity or retirement.
from a practical point of view, there are often not enough hours in a day to do all the work you invest in when you sign on with a non-profit. it takes a big heart and an absence of calculators and time clocks to keep moving the soul of an organization forward. one would be saddened to divide salary paid by hours worked. instead, it takes true joy and every good intention. because it is about service and about passion, patience and resilience. from indeed, “when working for a nonprofit, the work you’re doing is meaningful. instead of working to grow a company, you’re working to make a difference.” the bottom line is mission. 9 to 5 flies in the face of nonprofit anima.
it is what it is.
we drove – early morning – to milwaukee a couple weeks ago. in the thick of commuter traffic and travelers, i was reminded that this was somewhat unfamiliar for me. it was a little hard for me to grok the unhappy faces of drivers around us. maybe they were heading to the 9 to 5. maybe they were tired of the grind. maybe they were just tired. i don’t know.
it prompted conversation between us about the kind of hours we worked in various service organizations and institutions over the decades. always on some kind of salary, those hours weren’t etched in stone. there weren’t time sheets and – likewise – there weren’t end-of-year bonuses. there were giant ideas and creative collaborations, camaraderie developed through shared interests and abilities, dedication with real-live love at the core. that stuff isn’t etched in stone. it’s soul.
i laughed when kate said they were 9 to 5’ers, for they are now retired and volunteering up a storm. but i agreed. for we are as well.
early to bed and early to rise. we are – at long last – real-life 9 to 5’ers.
so yesterday, in an effort to save the social-security-signing-up-for-medicare office some time, i tried to cancel an appointment with them. i had already accomplished what i needed online and i wanted them to be able to satisfy another customer’s needs.
i looked all over on their site for a way to cancel this appointment. nothing. nowhere to cancel.
but on the letter (which i received in real life as well as online) there was a phone number.
thinking that there would be an “option” to choose to cancel appointments, i dialed up.
nope. no option for canceling.
just an option for appointments.
“one hour and fifty minutes,” the pleasantly-recorded bad news said.
i started to stay on hold. put my phone on speaker and laid it next to me.
but i have other things to do. and an hour and fifty minutes to sit on hold in an effort to cancel a phone appointment with them is a tad bit – well – ridiculous. i was just trying to be nice, responsible, aware…you know, all those adjectives about being a good customer, a good citizen, a good fellow-almost-medicare person who knows that other people have questions too and these departments are overrun and that it took me two full months to get this appointment and i would like someone else to be the happy recipient of it.
whatever.
i hung up.
today, when they call, i’ll suggest that they find a way to make it easier to cancel an appointment.
because – doggonit – i’m almost 65 and my time is worth something too.
we did a triple-feature of romance movies last night. friday-night-date-night. it was cold and rainy, too foggy and dismal to go anywhere. we ordered fried rice and eggrolls and poured a little wine, settling in for a cozy under-the-blanket viewing.
there are sometimes these moments – moments when you just realize that you didn’t realize. last night was one of them.
after the guy told the girl that the other guy had done “a take” – and after we figured out what the term actually meant – i looked over at d and asked him if he ever did that, ever does that – a take – of me. his answer brought tears to my eyes.
it is impossible to not feel it. it swirls around us. it stirs us.
this season. a season of light and hope and generosity, a season of consideration and thoughtfulness and compassion, a season of simplicity and complexity, a season of love and grace and possibility. a season of deep gratitude.
we sit still – eyes closed – and take it in.
wishing you these gifts now. wishing you these gifts every day.
yes, yes. we are the height of fashion, the apex of vogue, the pinnacle of couture, trend-setters and latest-style-forward leaders. uh-huh.
in this new world – where i’m applying for medicare (what?!!!) – we are quite possibly – maybe probably – an eensy-weensy bit definitely – lagging behind. we are jeans-wearing, boots-flaunting, blackshirt-donning … and not so much … ok, not at all … runway-following.
were we sooo consumed with the intimate-wear choices of the riche, we would only consider silk or satin, rayon or charmeuse in nightwear lingerie. but, ohmygosh, give me a break!
we are over that.
truthfully – if people were truthful – most are over that.
and so, we are here to reassure you.
at least about pjs.
now that it is cold out it is completely apropos to pull out the flannel. because flannel – a style unto itself – is cozy and warm, snuggly and forgiving. a classic. it is love in a fabric.
and the buffalo plaid?? THE most popular.
yes. yes. we will rest easier now. we are most definitely the cat’s meow.
it is reassuring to believe that they whisper. i think they have begun to know us well. our passings-by have informed them – the times in our life together when we are laughing, the times we are upset, the times we are angsting, the times we are tired, the times we are quiet. i’m pretty sure they notice, despite all that is going on in their own world.
it’s been years now that we have a relationship with these trees. just as we watch for them – around the bend in the trail – across the pond – on the other side of the meadow – on the riverbed….they watch for us. they know our stride, our arm-in-arm, the sound of our footfall. they wonder before we arrive and they ponder after we depart.
we photograph them, voice concern about their fallen boughs, marvel at the kaleidoscope of their leaf color, view the sky through their canopy. we are grateful for the way they block the wind and the way they allow sun to filter through to our faces. they watch as we move snakes and caterpillars and turtles off the trail. they stare as we stop and gaze, still with momentary awe that strikes without warning. we see them stalwart. they see us fragile.
and so as we come around another bend – another day – another hike – they shush each other, to hear our voices, our booted feet on the dirt. to watch.
they whisper.
i wonder if they know how much we love when we are there.
i suppose cartoons are supposed to be mostly funny, though sardonic probably fits the bill too. this might be funny if it weren’t true.
a friend of mine texted a couple days ago to tell me she had bought a peach. one peach. it was $1.02 and it was not even ripe yet.
we bought our favorite jam at the least expensive grocery store. bonne maman mixed berry. it was $5.99.
one 28 ounce can of hunts crushed tomatoes is now $2.49. a minute ago it was $1.49.
20 said the vine-ripe tomato was $3.00. for one.
the guy at the meat counter picked up a steak. he looked at us and sighed, “how did this get so expensive?”. the little boy with him pushed closer to us and piped up, “have you heard of inflation?”
our gas and electric bill is on the budget plan. we are ridiculously frugal. we are cold in the winter and hot in the summer. it is $326/month.
our internet/cable/phone bill was $213 and seemed to be continually rising. in an attempt to pare down, i spent what seemed like half my life last week on the phone with them. it is nearly impossible to lower costs with this company. i have had their service the entire time i have lived in this house. 34 years.
were i to be a new customer, customer service said there would be many options from which i could choose. but – as a three-plus-decade customer – there are not. i can eliminate all my channels but 15 and save about $10. and what about my loyalty??
they transferred me to the retention department. i wonder why.
somehow i’d like to think of myself as anything but wilty. only i’d know it wasn’t so. i am. wilty. so is he. we are both wilty. not quite the same as the wilty kale we put out next to the garage for the mama bunny and bunbun, but most definitely wilty.
and so, as we drove away, with our cut-in-half halos for the off-trail “ammals” (thank you, jaxon, for this most-adorable non-wilty pronunciation), d said – in his i’m-enlightened-now-and-want-to-share-it voice, “that’s it!! they’d hire us if we weren’t so wilty!!!”
we laughed and he guffawed at his wit and utter sidesplitting jocularity and then we looked at each other – we neeeed to write that down!! so i grabbed my iphone and summoned siri, the great goddess of handless note-taking.
“what would you like it to say?” she politely asked. i answered and she dutifully jotted our note.
and then we looked at it.
uh-huh.
“they’d hire us if we weren’t so wealthy,” she transcribed.
hiLARious.
goddess-schmoddess. siri has her own unique wilty sense of humor.
reverse threading 