Pumpkin Jumpsuit vs. Risqué Shirtwaist: There are no Winners

Yesterday I shared my tale of shopping angst. I’ve been in search of a cocktail or after 5 dress for an upcoming soirée, and so far I have found nothing. The dresses that fit my 5’8″, size 12, slightly past middle-aged frame, are few and far between. And ugly. I might be nearing the age of 62, but I refuse to dress like my obituary is going into tomorrow’s newspaper.

At one point yesterday I decided to think outside the box in my pursuit of the elusive not-so-matronly dress, so I went to a local store in Tallahassee that always has a mix of new and vintage clothing displayed in their windows. It’s a nice shop, with friendly staff, and a variety of casual and dressier items in stock.

After walking around the store with me and asking about my style and color preferences one of the sales ladies opened a dressing room and began bringing different pieces for me to try on. I was seriously stoked to see just what she might find!

The first outfit was a light green floral jumpsuit. It didn’t scream “COCKTAILS” at me, but I was keeping an open mind. This isn’t it, but it was similar:

On me, the pants ended around mid-calf and the waist hit about two inches north of where my actual waist resides. And the floral pattern just made me look like I needed a good weeding.

Next she brought me another jumpsuit. I wish with all my heart that I’d had the presence of mind to take a photo of me wearing it. First off, it was orange. Not a pretty orange, but a washed out, 70’s shag carpet orange. In fact, I’d swear Studly and I lived in a rental that had the exact same color carpet during our poverty period.

The jumpsuit was crafted from chenille, so I looked like a pumpkin, freshly picked. And again, the waist was too high and the legs too short. Stifling a bout of giggles, I politely asked the sales lady to refrain from bringing any more jumpsuits to the dressing room.

So she brought me an adorable dress. It was simple and sweet on the hanger, but on me? Fugedaboutit. My bosom could not be contained by this little slip of a dress. Indeed, parts of me better left hidden made mad attempts to escape if I even dared to breathe in the gown. It was a Jekyll and Hyde affair, to be sure. All meek and mild on display, while determined to ruin my reputation whilst being worn. Be very glad that I didn’t take photos of this dress. That’s not it below, but you get the picture, right!

My little experiment in thinking outside the box was unproductive; however, I left the store with a badly damaged self-image, and that’s what really counts.

Peace, people.

Chef’s Choice

After Studly Doright’s round of golf yesterday and my round of garage sale foraging we both returned home to Doright Manor and took well-deserved naps. Actually, I’m not sure I’d done anything to merit such a good nap, but I enjoyed one anyway.

Studly awakened before me and went out to do some work in his shop. Apparently I had been snoring too loudly for him to continue sleeping. I am woman, hear me roar!

After he came back into the house Studly took a shower and then harassed me until I woke up. He wanted to go into Tallahassee for Italian food, so I wiped the drool off of my chin, the sleep out of my eyes, and tried to make myself presentable for dinner out.

We went to Riccardo’s for dinner. I’d never been before, but Studly and his workmates eat there fairly often. The place was packed on a Saturday night, but we got a table and ordered fairly quickly. I ordered a caprese salad and a glass of wine, but Studly ordered a pepperoni pizza with pineapples and onion.

After the waiter left to turn in our orders Studly told me about a time he’d been in Orlando on business, and he stopped in at a small pizzeria on his way back to his hotel after work.

He said, “I ordered the same thing I did tonight: pepperoni with onions and pineapple. The waiter frowned and said he didn’t know if they even had pineapple, but he’d check. After a few minutes the waiter came back to my table and said, ‘Sir, I’m sorry. We do have pineapple, but the chef said that’s a horrible combination and he refuses to make it.'”

I was kind of shocked. Wouldn’t one go with the theory that the customer is always right? Shouldn’t the chef have made the pizza as requested?

Now, I know that pineapple on pizza is controversial. I’m a fan, but apparently not everyone is. What say you? Yay or nay on the pineapple? This is a matter of great importance.

Snapshots #213 and #215

Those who pay attention to such things will note that the numbers in my title are not consecutive. There’s a good reason for that. I shared photo #213, titled, Studly Doright Will Just See an Ugly Old Chair, several days ago.

I bought the vanity chair for $5 at a garage sale, and after asking my crafts-minded sister-in-law, Lyn, for advice I’ve begun the process of making it prettier. The first step was to buy a new cushion which was way easier than I’d imagined since the existing cushion was a fairly standard size.

Here’s snapshot #215, which I’m calling Old Chair with New Cushion:

Isn’t it already prettier? I found this cheerful cushion at World Market for half of its original price. So far, I have $19.00 invested in my chair. Now I need to clean it and as Lyn suggested, apply Tung oil to the rattan.

As blog posts go, this is hardly earth-shattering, but the project is keeping me out of trouble. For now, at least. Oh, and Studly actually likes the chair and pronounced that I’d found a gem! Will wonders never cease?

Peace, people!

What Would You Remember?

This morning while Studly played for the final day in his club’s golf tournament I decided to take myself to brunch at the Canopy Road Cafe on Apalachee Parkway in Tallahassee. It’s a bit of a drive from Doright Manor to this cafe, so I had plenty of time to listen to an entire episode of NPR’s RadioLab on Sirius/XM.

The segment that gave me pause was one about a music conductor who suffered an illness that resulted in him having the worst case of amnesia ever recorded. He literally could not remember what happened from one minute to the next. He attempted to keep a journal at the urging of his nurses, but the entries went something like It’s 8:02 and I am fully awake. This was followed by, It is now 8:03, and I’m truly awake. Then, It is 8:04 and I am awake!This pattern continued until something else occurred in his routine.

Since I was driving I didn’t write down his name, but I do remember that of his wife, Claudia. I remember because she was one of only two touchstones in his life. He might not always remember her name, but he lit up when he saw her and he wanted only to be near her, to kiss her, and to enjoy her hugs.

He also remembered how to read music and could sing lyrics to familiar songs. Claudia brought his choir members to the facility in which he lived, and her husband was able to conduct their performance as if nothing had ever changed.

All I could think of as I ate my omelet this morning was what would I remember if inflicted with a similar fate. Would it be Studly Doright’s face? Those of my children? Would it be my favorite books or movies? What would survive an almost complete memory loss?

There’s no way of knowing, of course, and I hope I never have to deal with Alzheimer’s or dementia, or any other memory stealing event. Still, maybe I need to begin reinforcing pleasant memories. Note to self: Give Studly a big hug and kiss when he returns from golf today.

What do you think you’d remember? Are there things you wouldn’t mind not being able to recall? That’s dangerous territory.

Peace, people.

‘Til the Cows Come Home

One cow came home with me on Wednesday night, well, a picture of a cow anyway. One of the Meetup groups I’m a part of enjoyed an evening at Painting with a Twist in Tallahassee where we painted happy cows.

Here’s what Clarice (Yes, I named my cow) looked like after I’d worked on the background. You will perhaps note that I’m not all that accomplished at the fine art of painting.

But I did progress during the evening:

Clarice appears to have let her bangs grow out. Why on earth does my cow have bangs?

I know she didn’t look all that happy in the photo above, but I kept plugging and voila! Isn’t she something? You can answer that any way you choose.

I was the least capable of the four of us who were part of the Meetup group:

We did have a great time, though, and painting is s great way to get to know people. For instance, they all now know that I have a rich vocabulary of swear words. &@$%# cow.

Peace, people!

Farm to Table

Yesterday I felt like getting out of the house. Having been sick since May 2, I’d only made short trips for necessities, including two visits to convenient care medical facilities. I’m still not 100%, but if I ever want to get stronger I have to venture forth.

A Tallahassee neighborhood was having its community garage sale, so I drove to the east side of town and enjoyed the beautiful Florida weather while buying only a couple of items. Most of the merchandise on sale was baby related, and I have no need for strollers or play pens. Thank goodness.

I still had money in my pocket when I left the neighborhood, so I took myself to lunch at Backwoods Crossing, a farm to table restaurant. I’d driven past the place a couple of times before, but never at a meal time.

The interior of the restaurant is pleasant.

I was there early, so I had my pick of tables. The menu had lots of appetizing choices. Unfortunately, I’m limited in what I can eat right now. I settled on a grilled chicken breast with an apple glaze. It was tasty. I’d have loved to have the side of mashed sweet potatoes, but was afraid they’d have too much fiber for my delicate system. Never thought this hot salsa guzzling girl would have to settle for the bland side of things. Hopefully, this, too shall pass. No pun intended.

After my lunch I strolled into their outdoor seating area and garden. Much of the food they serve comes straight from this beautiful garden.

Items they don’t grow or raise directly on property are purchased from local farms. It’s a sweet setup.

I look forward to returning when my digestive issues are straightened out. Fingers crossed that happens soon! As for Studly Doright, he’s recovering from back surgery like a champ. He drove over and had lunch with his golf buddies today. It’ll be another three months before he can take the game up again, but he enjoyed swapping tales with his friends. Life is slowly getting back to normal.

Peace, people.

Laundry Detergent

The Big Bend Homeless Coalition in Tallahassee posted this announcement on Facebook a few days ago.

I made a note of it and decided to take part in some way. When I returned from my trip to Austin the note popped up in my calendar, thank goodness, and yesterday I went shopping at Walmart.

Buying items from a list of suggestions should be simple, right? So why did I agonize over brands and sizes? Should I buy one of each item listed or should I concentrate on buying a lot of one thing?

In the end I bought a large box of diapers, a good sized box of trash bags, a huge container of laundry detergent, and some feminine hygiene supplies. The last item wasn’t listed, but I’d asked if it would be okay to bring some and had gotten a thumbs up from the staff. (Thanks to blogging friend Jan Wilberg at http://redswrap.wordpress.com who gave me the idea.)

Of all the things I bought, though, the laundry detergent was by far the most appreciated. The man who helped me unload it from my car said, “We can do a whole lot of good with this.”

That’s pretty much the best thing I’ve heard in a long time. I’ve decided that going forward I’m going to take laundry detergent to the coalition’s office once a month. I want to help somebody do a whole lot of good again and again.

Peace, people.

March for Our Lives in Tallahassee

On Saturday I joined more than 2,500 people marching for common sense gun control in Tallahassee, FL. We gathered in front of Ruby Diamond Concert Hall and marched to the steps of the historic state Capitol building where more supporters awaited.

Young and old, we chanted for the entire length of the route. When one lead voice failed, another took up the chant. I cried more than once.

My back has been out of sorts lately, and I came close to staying home. In the end I said, “Screw it; I’m doing this.” Sometimes I make really great decisions. This was one of those times.

Peace, people.

Before Marching Today

People from every continent on earth, except for Antarctica, are marching today for common sense gun control. I’m joining the march in Tallahassee, Florida. We’ll start at Ruby Diamond Auditorium and march to the historic Florida Capitol building.

Right now I’m taking advantage of a bench beneath the spreading arms of a graceful oak tree in front of Ruby Diamond. Hundreds of folks are milling around, carrying signs, discussing the possibilities for real change in our gun laws.

Are you marching today? If so, where?

Peace, people.

Fun Times at Doright Manor

Thanks to a corroded hot water heater this is what my house looks like at the moment. Enjoy.

We pulled out the carpet and padding and rented a couple of fans to dry out the walls.

But we had to move all of the furniture out first.

The marble tops weigh a ton and have to be moved separately. They’re somewhere in my dining room at present.

Ah! Home sweet home.

I’m going to the carpet store today to find new floor coverings for the bedroom, and we’ve got a painter coming sometime this week. In the meantime we’re dodging bedroom furniture in almost every room of the house.

I insisted on pizza at Momo’s in Tallahassee for dinner last night.