At the age of twenty-eight, I officially entered the workforce. Until then, my title was “Professional Student”, with six years of my twenties devoted to completing graduate school and residency. When I got married and had a kid, I switched to part-time status and climbed into my scrubs three days a week (which, to be fair, is virtually full-time for a dentist). This sixty-percent schedule was a compromise between my husband, who informed me that I had chosen a career that paid too well to be abandoned, and me, who figured my “going into labor” demands had been satisfied this year by a C-section, thanks. Cut to two years later: I lose my job right around the time we find out our son needs spinal surgery and a lengthy home rehab period (you’re welcome to read about the serious side of that story here). SUCK IT, HUSBAND! I WIN!
Oh, but what’s that? Staying at home with a two-year old recovering from major surgery isn’t a vacation, you say? Well maybe not for YOU, but luckily, being an expert at all things, I have the chops for this assignment. And, as always, I’m willing to share my wisdom with you readers.
Last week Juliet had an incurable case of writer’s block–something I’ve dealt with myself–and asked me to give her one word and that she’d use as the basis for a stream of consciousness-style post. I gave her the word “bridge” and she cranked out a fantastic post in under an hour. (Slow clap)
Like most things involving streams, her post brought about mixed emotions in me. I felt inspired to do this writing exercise myself, but also felt challenged to do this writing exercise better than Juliet. Damn streams. Always bringing out the best and worst in me. Like the introduction to a Tale of Two Cities, minus the crippling boredom.
Anyway, I’ve babbled enough. My turn to guide you down my stream of consciousness. The word of the day is “plexiglass.” And the following has been written in under an hour as per my instructions.
Loyal readers of this site know: I love the weather. Chatting about it, reading up on the forecasts, excitedly jumping in on the hype of the storm-of-the-moment. What a thrill! But what is slightly less known, and the real reason for my fascination: I hate going out in it. Seriously, my preferred weather range is 67-72 degrees Fahrenheit in May, June, late September or October, partly cloudy skies with 70% humidity. Everything else turns me into an icicle (<40 degrees), grouch monster (>85 degrees), murderous rage machine (high winds), Wicked Witch of the West (rain), medieval illumination of the deadly sin of sloth (snow), 19th century asylum resident shrieker (<20% humidity), Transylvania/Forks, WA resident (sunsets before 5pm) or other, grimmer personas.
Needless to say, come November, I start battening down the hatches until the weather warms enough to re-emerge in May, like a bear coming out of hibernation, a butterfly emerging from a cocoon or a lizard crawling onto a warm rock (to be honest, the bear and lizard analogies are more reflective of my post-winter mood/hair/skin situation than the butterfly). At this point, I have accepted my situation and don’t even bother opening emails from Evite or Paperless Post until after Easter at the earliest. But all is not lost! There are ways to make the best of the cold, dark misery we call winter in the Northeast, all from the comfort of your own apartment. Continue reading
“Dress shabbily and they remember the dress; dress impeccably and they remember the woman.” –Coco Chanel
“One can get used to ugliness, but never to negligence.”–Coco Chanel
The poet Robert Frost once wrote, “Style is that which indicates how the writer takes himself and what he is saying. It is the mind skating circles around itself as it moves forward.” Though Frost was expanding upon the art of writing, I believe that his words are true about life as well. How we express ourselves–not only through our work, but our appearances–indicate how we view ourselves and what we want to communicate to the world. Despite our culture’s many warnings against vanity and judging based solely on looks, it is a mark of naiveté to think that how we look shouldn’t proclaim certain facts about us–for both the positive and the negative. Continue reading