Comment Oops

I have a hard time with certain blogs I visit. I also have difficulty with groups I belong to when it comes to discussing childhood activities.

I was never really a child. I sometimes think I was born old in a tiny body. Well, not so tiny, actually. Does 13 pounds qualify as an infant?

Proof that I was little once almost

Not very little here. Who curled my hair?

Dr. French often asks questions on his blog and I really want to answer. Especially since he has been so kind and encouraging of my continuing to write my drivel. Most of the time I click the like button and disappear. This time, I wrote a comment, copied it to a word document that I keep for unpublished comments and began to delete the comment from his post. I hit send instead. You can read the drivel I left here.

Another blog that makes it hard for me but I usually gush over even though I make no sense is Jennie’s. She’s the worlds BEST preschool teacher. Why on earth would I read that blog? I have no young children nor grandchildren. Jennie is no kid herself but her heart is so very young and pure. She shows me what could have been under different circumstances. Like when you get a teacher who cares with all her heart. Very often I weep at how far she goes to teach her preschoolers the most important things in life. I’m a little sad because I wasn’t even able to do that for my own children.

What do these two blogs have in common? Books and reading. The thing that keeps the blood coursing through my body. They are teachers who love books.

Books in the den

When I was filling out my advanced directive they asked when I would consider the quality of my life no longer viable and be ready for it to end. It’s when I can no longer read or listen to a book. If there are no books in heaven, I’m not going.

Books in the kitchen

I was supposed to go blind before I was 21. Fooled them. There were no audio books then and I wanted to read…anything and everything. Then science created contact lenses and saved a lot of vision for me. More time to read. Yay!

Bookshelf 1 in the living room

Bookshelf 2 in the living room

Bookshelf 3 in the livingroom

There are children in the good homes with no books who are not being read to by their parents. When it comes to gifts for the children in my life, books are the only thing I give unless it’s something I’ve made. So many children don’t have a Jennie to awaken in them a love of books, art and music. Dr. French tries to do that for his college age students. I’m not a fan of his genre but definitely of his love of reading, writing, kindness and honesty. So, I had to be honest.

Books saying goodbye… maybe.

Do you ever regret a comment you left or have second thoughts about leaving it?

From my heart to yours,

Marlene Herself

 

A Different Me

I’ve been trying to visit new blogs when I get a chance; to get new perspective and a little brain stimulation. I tend to visit blogs that many of my readers visit because I think we may have something in common. The cleaning out processes I’ve been on has not failed to touch so many in blog land.

When I read Luanne’s post quite late in the game, it had me looking at what I was doing in a whole new light.

So, I started hunting through my photographs to see if I could find any that had me wearing something I truly loved. A dress I had made for me in a soft pink while living in Taiwan was a favorite for a while.

A different me. NCO club celebrating a friends adoption of a baby.

I was never one to be stylish. In school, I bought skirts in brown, black, and navy with several shirts to go with each. Basic and inexpensive. I always have had to buy my own clothing unless my mother made it for me. Mom was quite the seamstress and I was always proud to wear anything she made. Sometimes it was too fancy for school but I wore it anyway.

Light blue taffeta with scallops. Where are my glasses. Sister feeling uncomfortable in her homemade dress and petticoat.

Another Easter Sunday with new outfits all around. Mom even made the suit but the littlest brother wouldn’t stand for photo.

In one of incarnations during this lifetime, I studied color and image consulting. It took a year of intense training as it was extremely individualized. It was my favorite occupation except for one small hiccup. I was supposed to dress at least one or two steps up from my clients. That just wasn’t who I was. I loved finding the perfect colors to go with a person’s personality and energy level and help them find their style.

Mine would always be pragmatic and basic with a little fun in the mix. I had a number of outfits that I felt really suited my personalities. Most of us have many facets to our personality that can be expressed through our clothing.

I tended toward monochromatic outfits for a more slimming look

When the day came that I no longer did consulting or worked outside the home, I put all my special and well cared for clothes in a suitcase and carried them down to the Safe House auxiliary store for women who needed nice things to find jobs. I still miss the feeling I had when I wore them. The dressing up and feeling like I was seen.

As an older woman it’s easy to become invisible. That works for us sometime but I have my moments when the little cap I must wear most of the time is what draws a tiny bit of notice so I can give my best smile and engage in a happy exchange with a stranger.

 

Sipping tea in my trusty cap.

Today, the exchange was over the greeting card section at the market where a woman laughed out loud at one and I was approachable enough in my cap to share the laugh with her. I suggested she have a fun day as she walked on. My caps, cane and crooked smile must do the job of pretty skirts and shirts now. They tell people if you are friendly or not. The smile is still getting better after eight years of paralysis and I can now make my eyes smile a bit better too. A smile is always your best outfit.

How about you? Do you have a photo of you in a favorite outfit? That applies to men as well.

From my heart to yours,

Marlene Herself