friends...

i don't think i've mentioned the fact that lately i spend most of my social time with three white men over the age of 50. i can't tell you how strange that is or how indicative it is of how i am changing. these are kind men, supportive men and there is nothing untoward about my friendship with them at all. nor is there anything fatherly. mentorly, perhaps.....but these are just friends who share a love of the same thing: volleyball. i've seen them each in turn in pain and weakness and in great strength. i am not sure if they've seen me in the variety of lights that tend to strengthen a friendship but i do believe they have. anyway just was thinking about it!

If I were a smart ass columnist who had a column I would write this....

I keep seeing people who are lost in the '80s and I'm not talking about those little fashionistas who were too young to get tired of stretch pants and off-the-shoulder shirts, skinny pants and pointy toed shoes. They forget we used to layer our socks, too.

The thing is I've been in the world long enough to see that what my mom was saying is, in fact, true and now I begin to wonder as we cycle through a new stage of 'cutting edge' fashion which era I will inevitably get lost in-unaware as these men and women are-that feathered hair, wings and mullets and banana clips only make you look dated and not dateable.

When I was in college and serious platforms were in style, my mom would scoff at me and lament me as unenlightened-she seemed disappointed and determined to connect my fashion choice to some failure of the feminist movement of the 60s. I looked at pictures of women wearing shoes from 'back then' and managed to convince myself that my shoes were TOTALLY different. Which they were, and they weren't. A few years separation from that time period and the occasional glance at my bright red platform tennis shoes from 1997 at the bottom of my shoe shelf have since convinced me of that.

The fact is I've noticed a bit of recycling going on, and try as I might, as I've seen things go out of style, I loathe them coming back into style. Of course, my attachment here and there to a favorite shirt or pair of pants has had me treading in dangerously unfashionable waters and I have a few things in my closet that came back in style so I was happy about that.

I am sure my disgust is in part because I suffer a little bit from consumer conditioning, I mean, how can I move on to the next fashion if I am still digging the one from last week, or from 10 years ago? Gotta spend spend spend, right? But a big part of my irritation with fashion recycling is that changes in fashion mark passages of time in an undeniably vivid way.....and if you've had hopes and dreams that have not been realized this can be a crude, colorful and expensive awakening.

And so my flippant mind sometimes thinks little smart ass thoughts about people as they pass me by and then I worry and wonder if maybe I need to go shopping again.

(Truth is, I've started to like those pointy toed shoes but you can bet I will NEVER try skinny pants or them dresses over 'leggings' formerly known as stretch pants-much too much like my first day of school outfit in 7th grade)

babies!

My apartment is not baby-proof. I knew that. But when Kayla came over I knew that I underestimated my own energy levels at keeping her away from items of interest. Last night Kayla (age: 17 months) came over while her Mom went to a birthday/benefit party. Mom left at 750, running late. After she teared up a bit at the disappearance of her mother, I made Kayla dinner (pizza and strawberries) and tried to get her to watch the Electric Company, which held her attention for approximately 3 minutes. She ate the strawberries and tried to clean up after herself, "Ah None!" she kept saying. (translation, Alll Done!) barely gripping the bowl as she tottered to the kitchen to put it away. Came back and kept opening her mouth wide to receive pizza that I was apparently supposed to put in her mouth, only to have her grin and say "HOTTT!" as she slobbered over half a bite and put it back on the plate. Then I watched her chase my frightened cat around the apartment while screeching-Addy was very disturbed. I watched her bang on my keyboard (recently re-acquired after 4 years on loan to someone) and I watched her try to turn on my tv, turn off my tv, turn on my tv, turn off my tv, and then try to destroy a DVD. I watched her attempt to play in the toilet, crawl on top of chairs, try to open the refrigerator, and huff and puff when she couldn’t do that. At one point she grabbed my bedroom trash bin and carried it around triumphantly for a bit, it was the same size as she was. I was running after her like a crazy woman. At some point I knew, just knew, it was time for Mommy to come back….and I looked at the clock, and it was 845. I had been running around for less than an hour!

Then I found out today an old best friend from high school is a few months pregnant as are other members of a very fond crew of mine from back in the day. Sigh.
To Moms all around, I salute you!