Who Needs Pockets?

Why does the fashion industry hate on women. I don’t know, but I’m down to one pair of decent shorts and two pairs of paint-stained cut-offs.  I’m only looking for a few pairs of shorts, maybe a new pair of jeans.

Do you want to know what I found at my friendly neighborhood department store? Do you? Too late, I’ll tell you what I found.

1. An assortment of pre-faded jeans. (I already have faded jeans, that’s why I’m shopping.)

2. An assortment of pre-faded and pre-ripped jeans. (I own faded and torn jeans. I faded and ripped them, myself. I also own faded, ripped jeans, and paint-stained jeans. This is going to be the next big thing. Mark my words.)

3. See #1 and #2 in Capris but all the pockets are fake.

4. I found actual Daisy Duke cut-off shorts. Why?

5. Also shorts that are even shorter than Daisy Dukes. These are, effectively, Bikini bottoms which are decorated to appear to be shorts. They have no pockets, either. Of course.

Why, Fashion people? Why do you hate on Women?

6. None of of these clothes are well-made. They’re designed to disintegrate in the wash in less than a year. The pockets, if present, are laugh-able but I don’t feel like laughing.

7. This is why I hate shopping. It may be why I have resting bitch face.

I pull out my phone to document why I will later be found building a fort out of jumbo toilet paper packs and pillows in the toy department. I find Legos soothing.

If if one person had told me right then, to “Smile” because I’d “be so pretty”, I’d be viral on YouTube right now. I swear.

Men don’t have to put up with this crap. Their clothes are well made and affordable. They get shorts that cover more than their booty, and they are permitted to wear out the knees and fade their own jeans. None of their pockets are fake. There would be an uprising.

It comes to me that this store has a men’s department and I know where it is.

I’m now the proud owner of two new pairs of well-made, affordable, booty-covering, not-yet-faded-or-worn-out, shorts with actual working pockets; one of which is a dedicated electronic device pocket.

I still have resting bitch face but my booty is comfy and I have pockets to hold my legos.

legs

Quality Time

image
Jaq, keepin’ it real. Yo.

 

This morning we get to play every Homeowner’s favorite game. Second only to Where-Is-That-Water-Coming-From and the, always popular, Guess-What’s-Broken-Now. This morning, we all get to play What-Died-in-Here-and-Where-is-it. It’s the fabulous game that no one wants to play and everyone wants someone else to win….Oh Goody. Continue reading “Quality Time”

Dawn Breezes

Coffee with cream,

steaming into dawn as

a sweet breeze sifts my hair.

Eyes closed in stillness

I hear the ocean in these rustling, rustling leaves

as if the trees speak in the language of waves.

And I wonder if, instead

it’s the ocean calling with the voices of trees.

As the rising steam moves softly sideways and away

I imagine these trees speaking of the shore

as

the ocean dreams of the forest.

And coffee with cream

shifts the waves

of morning leaves.

 

UniverseCheck.

forestcheckPhoto Credit: Anita Bowen Photography

Speaking up for Cake

I pushed it, again. I know I pushed it. The last week of the school year was thundering down when I started coughing. I pushed through; there didn’t seem to be any other choice. We are so close to the end and there’s too much to handle to take a day off.

It was the last day of school, there are 10 preschoolers ready to graduate, 30 or so parents, siblings and grandparents who have made plans to attend our Celebration. The presentation includes lots of songs, stories, and I woke up with laryngitis. Because, of course I did. Continue reading “Speaking up for Cake”

Morning Blue

The radio calls from across the dark bedroom. It’s just loud enough to break the web of sleep and is carefully set to a station too irritating to ignore. The walk around the bed, the reach for the tiny ‘off’ button is enough to lift me into a new day. Too dark to see the dawn, yet it’s surely on the way. Birds are just beginning, hesitantly, to call.

The seed of a new day is planted each night. I picture myself reaching under the pillow to grasp it, the promise of a new day. There is only one each morning and it is ours to ignore, or use, or waste and throw away. If I remembered more often, that each one is a gift, one of only a limited number, I imagine I’d be wiser with each day.

However, it’s easy to blink through the morning, sigh through the afternoon, and ease into bed at the end wondering what happened to the day. What did happen to the day?

“Pay attention”, said all my teachers, ever. “Pay attention.” I yawn as I stumble through another morning and stand, blinking, for the shower to warm enough to step into. There are only so many rainy afternoons, so many evenings with friends. And, yes, only so many dark and chilly mornings. The question isn’t how many.

The question is, what to do with this gift we are given. What to do with this one day, this one morning, this one minute, this one gift.

UniverseCheck.

Photo Credit: Anita Bowen Photography

 

Unclean? Most Likely

It came in the mail a few weeks ago, The advertisement from The Cleaning Authority: Clean Homes, Clean Earth.

“Unhappy with your MAID SERVICE?” reads the pamphlet. Yeah, I’m unhappy with my maid service! “Maybe it’s time to clean house!” Yes, my house always needs a good cleaning. It, in no way, resembles anything you’d find in a magazine or home catalog. My domestic help is lacking in both skills and motivation and I open the mailer to see what’s to be done.

The advertisement from The Cleaning Authority includes a list of services these Mighty Angels of Hygiene will perform on a regular and rotating basis. I glance at the list, intending to toss it in the recycle bin with all the other requests for money, but don’t. It’s a gripping read…fascinating and sort of horrifying. I’ve nothing against them….except the damn bar. They’ve raised the bar! I liked the bar.

“Save this chart”, it reads “and next time your cleaning service leaves, take it around and see if they did everything we do.”

These delightful experts will dust ceiling fans, dust lamps shades, clean windowsills, and wipe the fronts of appliances...ON A REGULAR BASIS. These need to be done? On a regular basis? You kidding me? Base boards wiped, kitchen furniture hand wiped, furtiture and upholstery vacuumed. These need to be done, too? The only time my kitchen chairs are hand-wiped is when they are lucky enough to suffer a spill. Shower doors given extra attention. Shower doors? I don’t even have shower doors. Now, I have to get shower doors in order to give them the extra attention they, regularly, need.

What kind of mother am I without sanitized floors and hand-wiped furniture? The crushing inadequacy! I consider hanging it on the fridge to refer to it every so often to check whether I’ve scrubbed my grout and spot cleaned my doors. Maybe, I’ll work my way down the list and start back on the top and I stop. No.

I toss it in the recycling and pour another cup of coffee. There, I cleaned up.

One Day

imageSome days you’re only one of many, many stones.

Some days you’re the stick, balancing it all.

One day you’ll find you’re neither one.

You’ll stand up, brush off the sand, and walk away wondering what all that was about.

One day, you become yourself.

UniverseCheck.

Photo Credit: Anita Bowen Photography