Bathing Suits

I was going to save this one for later. I'm sure you are so very tired of hearing about my clothing and my closet purge -- I am even sick of it. But, since the swimsuit story was brought up in a recent comment, I thought I'd go ahead and share.

The visual is just thrown in for comic relief. I don't know these people but they sure remind me of some swimsuits I've owned.

When I came to the swimsuit section of my closet purge, I was once again reminded of every vacation and every summer for the last 20 years. I used to buy one or two suits a year. Some years I would splurge at an end-of-season sale and buy several. I've bought a few on vacation. For someone who does not enjoy shopping or trying on swimsuits, I have always had many and seemed to be on an endless pursuit of new ones. I have worn them all and apparently, I've kept them all.

They even have little categories in my mind:

Two-piece suits. Only to be worn on vacations. Never to be worn on any kind of business trip or to the husband's club.

Comfortable one-piece suits. Usually older and great for lake weekends.

Wild patterns and colors. Usually bought on a whim while vacationing somewhere tropical. Often with matching sarong, which seemed important at the time. Lived at the bottom of the pile until next trip.

Trusted standbys. Love them. Worn them for years. My regulars for cocktail corner. All of my friends have seen them but I will continue to wear them until they are worn out or I am.

Dressy suits. (I am not making this up.) I bought a couple of suits that were shimmery and not anything you would wear off a diving board. These were for ski trips that might end with a dip in the hot tub or other such occasions.

My friend Lynn helped me sort through them. Remember, we only recently reconnected and she had no idea that I had amassed this ridiculous amount of clothing. I think the swimsuit collection put her over the edge.

She made lots of politically-incorrect statements about the women who would line up to get my vibrant and glitzy suits. She made a tough clean-up job a whole lot easier with the laughter we shared.

The majority of the suits are gone now. I will have to make do with my trusted standbys. They were always my favorites anyway and I haven't been in a hot tub in years.

A Closet Tale

This (of course) is not my actual closet. But it's pretty darn close. (I don't think I've ever taken a cake in there.) Cleaning it out was daunting.

When you have a large closet, it's very easy to fill. Clothing and accessories add up. Even though I'm not a shopper, I am also not very good at getting rid of things. The luxury of lots of space quickly became a dumping ground. Even I had to admit it was ridiculous. Tons of outdated clothing or items I would never wear again were squished against each other. Accessories and miles of shoes were on top of each other. Old business suits were neighbors with bad resort/vacation clothes. In the middle of the mess, I was able to identify a few items I actually wear.

Also, we used to keep boxed photos in the basement. After a pipe leak or some other disaster we re-boxed thousands of photos (without any organization or cleaning out the duplicates) and stored them in one of the guest room closets. When the Captain and the Belle moved in, we moved all of the boxes to my closet.

I also found miles of yarn and semi-completed knitting and crocheting projects. I rarely do either of these activities any more. And to top it off, excess wrapping paper, miscellaneous cards and ribbons, and wrapping supplies were crammed in a corner.

Sounds like a pretty picture, doesn't it?

I have completed about 90% of the clean up. Since I am emotionally attached to many items -- even ones I will never use or wear -- it has been difficult. I find myself thinking, "Oh, I wore that when we ..." At that moment, I want to hang on to it. Instead I am training myself to hang on to the memory.

An Unintentional Blog Vacation

Many comments have come my way about my infrequent posting of late. It is very flattering to be missed.

Some new curves have been thrown at me lately and as I navigate my way through them, I have had to let some other things slide. But not for long! The opinions have not stopped and I have many postings festering in my little brain.

If you care to check back in a couple of days, I should be back on track. In the meantime, I must celebrate a wonderful oldie's birthday (my father) and enjoy some of the birthday dessert prepared by his favorite oldie (my mother.) I get to crash the party just by being here.

Doll Clothes

I am long overdue for purging closets. So, I've begun sorting and piling. I'm trying to abide by the rule that if I have not worn it in more than a year, out it goes. It's embarrassing how many items I have hung onto for so many years. Many of my business clothes are left over from my corporate days. Hmmm .... I left that position in 1997.

Some donations are only worthy of the Goodwill box but many of the suits and jackets would work for someone who is interviewing or starting to establish a work wardrobe. I take those to a local women's shelter. I dropped several beautiful (and expensive) things off the other day and the volunteer made a snide crack about the sizes.

I didn't like the comment or her tone. It hurt my feelings and it made me second guess my choice of donation destinations. I could have made a crack right back but I'm trying to work on my passive-aggressive tendencies.

But I probably won't take more donations there for a while.

A Snuggie Gift

After my rant about the Snuggie craze you probably think I'll never own one. Guess what? I now own two.

It seems someone took it upon him or herself to send me an anonymous gift of two Snuggies. They are royal blue and exactly as described on the infomercial. I haven't used one yet but it is snowing and cold today so I might curl up with one later.

Since I have no idea who sent these to me I will send this thank you note into cyberspace. Many thanks to my Snuggie elf!

Prejudice

Note to readers who get offended at anything politically incorrect: You can skip this post.

I have a big, black dog. I talk to her as if she actually understands me. If she were human, she would have several strikes against her:

She is female.
She is big.
She is black.
She makes up her own rules.
She talks too much.

These are not detriments in my mind. I like to point out to her when she is being wronged by the entire male species, human and animal. She is not fat; she is big boned. And I tell her that big girls are beautiful too. I point out all holidays or events that recognize black achievements such as MLK day and Black History month. (One of her favorite poses is the arm outstretched thing. Whenever she does it, I say, "Power to your people!" During the election, I kept her posted on the candidates and congratulated her when Obama won.

She is very protective. She is not really a barker until she hears a sound outside or a knock on the door. Otherwise, she's just chatty with groans and moans. Yesterday, my mother walked in after her shower and she was wearing a towel on her head. Gabby stood straight up and gave a warning growl. She was serious.

Guess she doesn't like towel heads. There goes my dream of taking her on a Middle East vacation.

Just Like High School

For all of my years as a student, I consistently received two comments on my report card:

"Excellent student" or "Talks too much in class"

Forgive the distinction but although I did talk in class, I was responding! Someone ... usually one of the girls above had asked a question, made a comment, sent me a look or passed me a note.

Our girlfriend reunion weekend was magical. I expected it to be great and I was not disappointed. The four of us could sit in a room with nothing to do but watch paint dry and we could not run out of conversation or laughter. We ate a lot of junk and tried to fill it in with some healthy stuff. We asked our questions and they ran the gamut from funny to morose to reflective.

They all went to my church on Sunday. I tried to be an excellent student. And yes, we were a tad disruptive.

To my goldies, thank you!

Cleaning

It is true that for most of my adult life, I have had someone clean my house. Single, divorced, married ... it didn't matter. As long as I could afford it, I did it. Truthfully, I did it even when I really couldn't afford it but I was spoiled. (In my defense, I still did some cleaning!) Anyway, the whole cleaning thing changed about a year ago.

While living with my oldies, I try to help out. The comedian Steven Wright (who reminds me a lot of George Carlin) used to say, "It's a small world ... but I wouldn't want to paint it." I would change that sentence to: It's a small world but I wouldn't want to dust it.

Earlier this week, I pitched in with my oldies and another couple to help clean our church. (Remember one of my resolutions was to volunteer more.) It was rewarding.

I may not always clean my house but I felt a great joy in helping to clean God's house.

A Friendship Story

In The Big Chill, there's a scene where the group of friends is reflecting on their friendship. One of of them says, "It's no surprise that our friendship could survive that (referring to their youth) -- it's out here that it gets tough."

The four girls in this photo have survived our childhood friendship with each other for over 3 decades. And this weekend, we have set aside a few days for our girlfriend reunion. Deb, Jan and I have done this for eons -- some years more than others. For the first time, our friend Lynn will also join us. We lost contact with Lynn for a while and are now making up for lost time.

It's not fair to give them labels but I'm going to do it anyway.

Lynn is the funny one. As young girls, she was also the brave one. I never know what will come out of her mouth. Last night she told me she was so excited about this weekend, she felt like "a d**k on a date." Not quite the phrase I would have chosen but I'm equally excited.

Deb is the serene one. People might think she's shy or quiet but she's not. She's just smart enough to assess people and situations to avoid putting her foot in her mouth. Under the surface is the teenager I remember. We all revert to high school when we gather.

Jan wears her heart on her sleeve. She would've made a great Miss America -- her passions have always been children and animals. (Plus I"m pretty sure she wants world peace too.) She also holds the unenviable position of the first person I call for almost any crisis or disaster -- real or imagined.

We all have a little bit of crossover. We can all be funny but we're not quite as "out there" as Lynn. We all have a hesitant or shy side but I'm not sure we do it with Deb's studious style. We all try to be kind but we won't measure up to Jan. We shouldn't even try.

My oldies are a little paranoid. They have heard me talk of these reunions for years and they know no topic or question is off limits. They are convinced that we might discuss them a bit. Hmmm ...

So, I toast my golden friends as I count the days until I get to spend a little while in celebration of love and laughter.