It's time for a few random unrelated thoughts. Bear with me...
For the past few days, I volunteered at a conference. Hubzam, that giant of a man, took advantage of some vacation time to help, too. Gonzo got pulled into the mix, too. There was a hefty dose of reality involved.
The first morning of volunteering, I was standing in the closet when the thought occurred to me that the only thing I think about when I get dressed is comfort. When did this happen, I wondered?
Follow the de-evolution of my wardrobe:
- When I was in my 20s, I really cared about what I wore. Jewelry, shoes, perfume...required. I cared about what others thought and I wanted to make a good impression. After all, I wanted to look my best - you never know who is watching, right?
- In my 30s, I still cared, but it was compartmentalized. Jewelry, shoes...perfume gave me a rash. I knew that presentation was important and when it was important. I dressed selectively. My outfit was really important when I went out, and pretty important when I worked, but a crap-shoot at home. After all, I had children and I was a working mom. You never know who is watching, but I had decent curtains and confidence that no one was looking in the windows. Good enough.
- In my 40s, my standard went from "look good" to "look presentable." Jewelry was for going out. Shoes had to be comfortable. Soap was my scent; I liked to be clean and that was close enough to cologne - I used nice soap. Late in that decade, a uniform was developing. Workdays were a thing of the past; all my work was at home. You never know who is watching, but the person that is watching should be aware of the fact that I think he or she is weird for watching. I'm old, man.
- In my 50s: full on uniform! I'm proud of the fact that I am always clean. My uniform is short sleeves, V-necks and capris. My favorite shoes are "supportive" of my arches that fell long ago on some hard nursing floor. I hang on to old shirts just in case I'm doing something messy. Then, one day, I'll be going somewhere and think that old shirt is good enough and wear it out. I have an "oh, well..." wardrobe. If I was worried about what people think before, I now know they don't think about me much at all. Cool! And by the way, call before you come over...just in case.
Time magazine is a favorite at our house and this week's issue is called "The Answer Issue." It contained a lovely article (page 31): "Why Parents Should Not Punish Kids with Public Shaming" written by Susanna Schrobsdorff.
The piece cited incidents where parents filmed a 13-year-old with her long hair cut off - as a punishment. Kids are made to hold up signs that say things like "I'm a liar" or "I embarrassed myself and my mother because she taught me better."
Has society sunk so low or are people so social media obsessed, that they think this "punishment" is okay? When did parenting, especially bad parenting, become YouTube fodder? Who are these idiots who WANT to post this demeaning stuff and who is in this sick audience? Do they Google "inappropriate punitive punishments?" Does the public actually fire up YouTube and search for just that kind of video entertainment?
On the other hand, would you search Time magazine for information about appropriate parenting?
What ever happened to common sense?
Okay, this rant o' random is almost done...just a few more things:
- So many people commented on the post about Pinky Bandanna that I want to make another Pinky Bandanna. Sort of a doppelganger fashion-fail statement. I may ask Mom...
- My dog has the most amazing bladder. She can go 12 hours without a bathroom break. That's awesome on the rare days I can't get back home on time. Coco, I salute you.
- Why doesn't someone come up with a "shop and stock" business. When you're really busy, you can't wait to get back home. Upon reaching that destination, you realize there's no groceries in the house and everyone wants to know what's for supper. Back out the door! I'd hire someone to shop and stock the fridge so I didn't have to do that, if there was such a thing.
- Everything aches the morning after moving around boxes. At the time I was doing it, it seemed fine.
- Hubzam is a workhorse. I'm glad he is on my team. He may not be glad, but I am.
- Gonzo will do anything I ask and not complain. Watching kids out in public this weekend made me realize how rare that is...
Tomorrow, my brain will be rested and normal. Shutting up now (hey, you - stop that clapping!).