Ten years ago, tonight, I met Bryan. 25 days later, we had our first date. 750 days after that, we got married. I’m not doing the math to calculate how long it took for Thor to arrive. He’s here now, splayed out on the living room floor with a Lego starship, watching Big Bang. Bryan’s off to my right surfing the net. Obviously, I’m right here. Though I am about to go fix dinner.
It’s been a wonderful ten years. I’m looking forward to what the next ten bring.
Happy New Year, everyone.
I am excited to announce having joined the Clever Girls Collective. I am waiting for someone to start the Slightly Silly Middle Aged Women Collective, of which I hope to be a charter member! In the meantime, I am quite happy to be considered clever enough to add the CGC badge to my blog.
If you are ever on a game show that requires you to be able to pick out Calvin Klein garments from racks of hundreds of other designers, and you get to phone one friend, call me. I don’t care if it is underwear, yoga pants, a sweater, a dress, a skirt…if there is an item by CK on the rack, there can be thirty other things the exact same color and my hand will reach for it. Fortunately, I am also fairly practical, and though I truly enjoy trying on clothes, I don’t buy a tithe of what I like. So, tonight I did not buy the charcoal gray button down dress (because when I sat down in it, the last button was positioned high enough that you could see whether or not I’d bought the CK underwear), or the black cardigan (because I have something like 147 black cardigans), or the delicious, gorgeous, glorious, orange sweater dress with the gold buttons and gold snakeskin belt (because…well, orange and snakeskin), or the yoga pants (because my Target brand ones are still just fine), or the tangerine sports tank (because they perfectly matched the tangerine trainers I also did not buy.)
Other things I put in my cart, then went around TJ Maxx putting away:
My best shopping tip (for when you really don’t need to buy) is this: When you think you want something, carry it around the store for fifteen minutes. If you still want it, get it. If you’re really unsure, put it back on a rack (well hidden so no one else finds your treasure in case you do decide you want it) then shop around some more. If you can still picture it clearly in your mind after fifteen minutes, or if you feel actual pain at the idea of leaving without it, go get it.
My best shopping tip for when you need to buy is this: Try on everything. Walk out of the dressing room and look at yourself in the 3 way mirror. If you are embarrassed to walk out of the dressing room, don’t buy it. In places like TJ Maxx, I have noticed a distortion in the dressing room mirrors, so I NEVER buy anything there unless I’ve looked in the 3 way. Or, take a photo of yourself in the mirror and see what you think.
The hard way to learn that photo trick is to buy a dress that looks amazing in person, then see yourself broadcast over stadium sized screens, under television lighting, only to discover that on camera the light plays to ridiculously bad angles. You will see that out of the corner of your eye just in time for the cameraman to capture a close-up of your horrified, stricken expression, before going back to a wide shot.
I am very happy to announce ZENDICTIVE as the winner of our Holiday Guide month-long, Premium Membership to Julie Anne Rhodes’ amazing website! Zendictive, please send your information to lane@theoutsidelane.com, and I will get you on your way.
Congratulations!!!
At a certain age, high school classmates begin passing away with regularity. I haven’t hit that age yet, but have lost a few from ’89 to accidents and disease–usually cancer. Very recently, a classmate’s husband (also from our school, though I never had any classes with him) lost a short, intense battle with cancer. It’s an insidious disease.
I’m never sure what to say when someone suffers a loss. Part of that is just plain human shortcoming–what is there to say when someone loses a part of themselves? Part of it is having had my sensitivity meter warped by years of being told (and practicing) that even in grief or sorrow, we should not ever speak to the pain, but only to the promise held by the future. Having broken free of that, I get irritated by denials of tragedy in favor of prompts to be of good cheer. If anything happened to B, I would kick you in the taco for telling me to be of good cheer.
The truth is that there is no right thing to say. And there are times when the only right thing to do is say nothing, and simply offer your presence, or a reminder of it with cards, flowers, or my signature sympathy gift of chocolate.
We’re all different in how we grieve and how we respond to grief. Since I am pretty useless at words of comfort–for real. How are you supposed to offer comfort?! There is no comfort in loss! Sure, time will dull the way the pain initially consumes you, but I still miss loved ones as accutely as I did the day they died–maybe more as time goes on and I want to share my world with them. I’m not going to lie and say it gets better. It just gets…different. So, since I am obviously useless at being a comfort, I try to be a presence in my small ways. Sandbagging against the worst of grief, is how I see it.
If enough of us are there to support the surviving parties, even in the smallest of ways, they’ll have a place to lean and rest. And really, true rest is the best thing you can hope for at the worst times of your life.
The Outside Lane 