is a favorite treat but that I am having it on a Tuesday morning instead of Monday shows you just how atypical my life has been lately. It means that I went over to the Chinese place for supper last night instead of Sunday night. Sunday night I just stayed home and ate leftovers because I didn't have the energy to go anywhere else; a chunk of lasagna that had languished in the freezer for several weeks and apple salad that needed to be consumed or dumped--that was the menu.
Monday I had only one scheduled thing on my calendar, a meeting with J who is the instigator of the local Veterans Resource Center. J wanted to brainstorm about ways she might connect with the community and the congregation and share a cuppa. That was to be at noonish, which left me time to make a hasty run afterwards overtown to the big mall and do a little retail therapy.
Since moving to the island three and a half years ago, I have slipped into a pattern of wearing makeup only on Sundays (or when I might see someone cute at a gathering), being most comfortable in jeans and a sweatshirt (except for church biz when I do spruce up--well, usually), and wearing things till they're threadbare and falling apart or stained badly. Right now for example, I am wearing an ancient sweatshirt that I got at the 1995 General Assembly; its cuffs are just about gone, the design (Celebrate Diversity) is only half-there, and it's got bleach spots down the sleeve. It's paired with sweat pants that are equally shabby.
Of course, I don't go ANYWHERE but to the newspaper box down the driveway in this outfit; I do have some sense. And when I go down the drive to get the paper, it's 5:30 a.m. Not too many people out and about at that point, except for the drivers hurtling down the road to get to an early ferry. They're not interested in my sartorial sense and neither am I.
But last year I started growing out my hair and working to achieve a softer look. When I had eye problems and stopped wearing contacts, I noticed that the frames of my specs were actually very becoming, and decided that my wardrobe needed a little boost as well. Hence the retail therapy.
There aren't many places on the island where one can find what I was looking for (basic long-sleeved tees with a scoop neck), so I hied myself over to Lynnwood's Alderwood Mall and Coldwater Creek, where they have exactly what I was looking for, in deep purple, hot pink, white and black.
This may not seem very exciting to you, but they are just what I need right now to work with other stuff I've collected over the past few months. I've been haunting the thrift and consignment stores around here and picking up a few things, trying to move beyond the sloppy shirt and jeans motif that has been my fall-back position recently. I read "Beauty Tips for Ministers" sometimes, but the differences between PeaceBang's world and mine are vast. Still, her reminder that we clergywomen need to be attentive to the message we send with our appearance is a valuable one.
Okay, where was I? I've wandered off topic. Oh yes, an atypical life lately. What did I mean by that anyhow? I've been preoccupied with a different kind of life this fall, one which brings new projects and ideas but also areas of concern and anxiety. Yesterday J mentioned that Mercury is in retrograde or some such, which I don't understand except to get the message that things are in turmoil everywhere: deaths, anxieties, conflicts, uproar, dissension, moodiness, change change change.
Yep, that I do get.
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