Wednesday, July 18, 2012
What do I want?
I've been reading a lot about minimalist lifestyles lately. I know, cue the superstitious shudder. But I think there's a lot to glean from the perspectives of those who purposely downsize their lives to free up time, energy, and money. The whole spirit behind minimalism is identifying your core values and aligning your priorities to match. So what are 10 things I want out of life?
1. I want to work fewer hours someday.
2. I want to have more time to hang out with my husband. After all, I do kinda like the guy.
3. I want to spend less time maintaining a house and yard.
4. I want to someday live in a semi-urban, walkable area. The picture I have in my mind's eye is downtown Chattanooga's River District, but I'm not limited to that city by any means.
5. I want to get to know every nook, cranny, restaurant, and attraction of whatever city I live in.
6. I want to reduce my environmental footprint. I'm by no means an obnoxious hippie type, but I do take stewardship of the earth seriously.
7. I want to practice more intentional hospitality - as in, inviting people over as opposed to simply having an open house for our single friends.
8. I want to be able to take off on an adventure at a moment's notice.
9. I want to become well-off so I can meet needs within my church and donate frequently to charity.
10. I want to travel the world with my husband.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Punting the Anklebiters
This summer is already emotionally tough for me and it's only halfway through June. Several factors have converged to create an ugly mess. Like a pimple you think you've squeezed out, but it won't heal because it keeps refilling under the scab and you realize there were three clogged pores, not one.
I recently read an article that made me choke on my lungs. This specifically deals with raking over a childish, unreliable father. That wasn't my problem. The 2x4 to the heart came when I read these words:
I can't pretend I don't do that. I've been locked away from my emotions so long that telling the story of the 6 agonizing years before I escaped to college feels to me like I'm gossiping about someone else's sad life. "Isn't she brave? Bless her heart, to have gone through all that, and she doesn't even drink? The narrator shakes her head in mock-sympathetic admiration.
I also had a person from my past resurface suddenly whom we'll call Number 24. A man from my church back home, who went to middle and high school with me. We carpooled. I had a terrible crush on him that the entire church knew about (so it seemed). He and his wife just got out of seminary with counseling degrees (gulp) and moved to Charleston to find work. They're attending my church. (double gulp) So now Will and I are thrown together with this sweet, outgoing couple with fresh training, and one of them remembers me clearly from the bad old days. (triple gulp) I admit to a minor freakout when I heard Number and Mrs. 24 were moving here. It wasn't all vanity that I didn't want to have someone around who knew me when I was dumpy and belligerent; I also didn't want to tar this couple with my brush of old, sticky pain. I wanted to get to know Number 24 as an adult, and Mrs. 24 as her delightful self, free of association.But of course, in catching up and talking about the old days, it's all coming up again because my memories are dyed dark with the pain and grief, and this kind and compassionate couple, with their fresh training, are all too ready to practice on me.
The next straw on my back comes from my pastor. He's been preaching a series of summer homilies on the petty anklebiter sins that we keep around because they don't seem that harmful. This morning's was on anxiety. I didn't used to be an anxious person, a worrier. Worrying puts one outside of gratitude for God's provision. It cuts you off from the body of the church. He encouraged us to adopt one sin to focus on uprooting this summer. I think my unlovely pet is going to have to be anxiety. I worry constantly. I don't trust anyone but myself. This includes God, my husband and my parents. That's what happens when you're in free fall and the people around you, the church, God's people, don't roll out a net. And God ignores your screams when you hit the pavement. The screams cursing Him for not saving you. The screams begging Him to send help. The screams begging Him to put you out of your misery, because you cannot live with the pain. And eventually, you lie on your face in your pulped body long enough that your twisted bones knit together enough that you can get up and lurch away, an unrecognizable mockery of your former self. And then you get blamed for being twisted and ugly by the people who didn't catch you. Because what doesn't kill you doesn't always make you stronger. Sometimes it makes you horribly disfigured. That's how a carefree, spontaneous, trusting child becomes a worrier.
And finally, there's my husband. I've kept him at arm's length too long. He deserves better. He deserves a wife who has healed, not a shattered porcelain doll who sits on a shelf insisting she's ready to play, even though her legs are in a Ziploc bag taped to the back of her dress.
I want to have an emotionally open relationship with my husband. I want to forgive the people who let me down. I want to learn to trust God again, to recover the innocent faith of the child I was. I want to fully participate in church. To stop treating it as though it's a home and I'm a newly-rescued, formerly abused greyhound who hides behind the couch, only coming out when completely starving to steal the occasional roast off the counter.
This is definitely going to be a rough summer because I don't have skeletons in my closet. I have zombies in there, and it's all I can do to keep the door padlocked. I'm going to have to let them out, one by one, and shoot them.
I recently read an article that made me choke on my lungs. This specifically deals with raking over a childish, unreliable father. That wasn't my problem. The 2x4 to the heart came when I read these words:
Tommy's eyes lit up.
"Wow," he said. "Amazing. What you just described is a dead-on, classic symptom of something called 'projective identification.'"
"Good gracious, what's that?"
"It manifests itself in different ways, but one of them is when people tell painful stories just to get a sympathetic reaction. It gives them a little high when the other person says, 'Oh, my goodness! I can't believe you went through that.'"
"What's wrong with that?" I asked. "People do it all the time."
"You're right – they do – but the problem is the person isn't dealing with his own junk – he's getting someone else to do it. And you especially see people do this when they've gone through painful experiences they haven't properly grieved."
It was exciting, in a way, to get a concrete diagnosis from Tommy, but it was also disturbing. If he was right, if I was retelling these stories so I could watch the listeners process my baggage – rather than do it myself – then I was basically just using these people.
I can't pretend I don't do that. I've been locked away from my emotions so long that telling the story of the 6 agonizing years before I escaped to college feels to me like I'm gossiping about someone else's sad life. "Isn't she brave? Bless her heart, to have gone through all that, and she doesn't even drink? The narrator shakes her head in mock-sympathetic admiration.
I also had a person from my past resurface suddenly whom we'll call Number 24. A man from my church back home, who went to middle and high school with me. We carpooled. I had a terrible crush on him that the entire church knew about (so it seemed). He and his wife just got out of seminary with counseling degrees (gulp) and moved to Charleston to find work. They're attending my church. (double gulp) So now Will and I are thrown together with this sweet, outgoing couple with fresh training, and one of them remembers me clearly from the bad old days. (triple gulp) I admit to a minor freakout when I heard Number and Mrs. 24 were moving here. It wasn't all vanity that I didn't want to have someone around who knew me when I was dumpy and belligerent; I also didn't want to tar this couple with my brush of old, sticky pain. I wanted to get to know Number 24 as an adult, and Mrs. 24 as her delightful self, free of association.But of course, in catching up and talking about the old days, it's all coming up again because my memories are dyed dark with the pain and grief, and this kind and compassionate couple, with their fresh training, are all too ready to practice on me.
The next straw on my back comes from my pastor. He's been preaching a series of summer homilies on the petty anklebiter sins that we keep around because they don't seem that harmful. This morning's was on anxiety. I didn't used to be an anxious person, a worrier. Worrying puts one outside of gratitude for God's provision. It cuts you off from the body of the church. He encouraged us to adopt one sin to focus on uprooting this summer. I think my unlovely pet is going to have to be anxiety. I worry constantly. I don't trust anyone but myself. This includes God, my husband and my parents. That's what happens when you're in free fall and the people around you, the church, God's people, don't roll out a net. And God ignores your screams when you hit the pavement. The screams cursing Him for not saving you. The screams begging Him to send help. The screams begging Him to put you out of your misery, because you cannot live with the pain. And eventually, you lie on your face in your pulped body long enough that your twisted bones knit together enough that you can get up and lurch away, an unrecognizable mockery of your former self. And then you get blamed for being twisted and ugly by the people who didn't catch you. Because what doesn't kill you doesn't always make you stronger. Sometimes it makes you horribly disfigured. That's how a carefree, spontaneous, trusting child becomes a worrier.
And finally, there's my husband. I've kept him at arm's length too long. He deserves better. He deserves a wife who has healed, not a shattered porcelain doll who sits on a shelf insisting she's ready to play, even though her legs are in a Ziploc bag taped to the back of her dress.
I want to have an emotionally open relationship with my husband. I want to forgive the people who let me down. I want to learn to trust God again, to recover the innocent faith of the child I was. I want to fully participate in church. To stop treating it as though it's a home and I'm a newly-rescued, formerly abused greyhound who hides behind the couch, only coming out when completely starving to steal the occasional roast off the counter.
This is definitely going to be a rough summer because I don't have skeletons in my closet. I have zombies in there, and it's all I can do to keep the door padlocked. I'm going to have to let them out, one by one, and shoot them.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
/Facepalm
I read several blogs about marriage and male/female relations. I also dip into the Focus on the Family forums when I'm completely desperate for entertainment or nursing a terrible mood that I need to improve by comparing myself to those poor unfortunates. (I really do actually have a lively interest in psychology and counseling. I'm not just enjoying a particularly nasty and impersonal schadenfreude.)
Reading today's tales of woe brought home to me how secular my thinking is becoming. The particular threads I read were all started by women. All chronicled staggering emotional/verbal abuse, incredible financial irresponsibility, and rampant, unrepentant adultery. The advice was all gentle and supportive, with many pious wishes for spiritual renewal in the offender. I got mad. That is the worst advice anybody could give to people who are suffering like that. I could tick down most of the however-many thousand threads in there and change those peoples' lives with two lines: "S/He is abusing you. Leave." (And if I really wanted to do the cruel-to-be-kind thing, I could add "You can leave now, or you can leave later with an STI and an extra child you can't afford.")
I believe this is one area where the Church is failing her people. Yes, Christians should follow the procedure for rebuking a wayward brother. Yes, Christian spouses should be patient and longsuffering. I don't dispute any of that. I believe the Bible gives the correct procedure for dealing with habitual and unrepentant sin. However, I don't believe that enough people are told that when their spouse is that sunk in sin, stupidity, and selfishness (SSS), they are too far gone to be reasoned with. When your spouse is that far gone, they no longer see you as someone toward whom they have any obligation. They don't see you as human, in fact. You are merely an inanimate object that exists only for their convenience. So when you protest, demand pastoral mediation, and Christian counseling, they are as astonished as if their toilet started complaining about its ill-usage while they were sitting on it.
With that in mind, it's clear to see how the normal Christian platitudes about redoubling prayer and submission reinforce the problem. Staying in the home, suffering in silence, trying to love someone out of their sin gives the offender absolutely no reason to change. After all, you're contributing to the problem because you seem to be putting up with it. Your very presence is used against you as tacit acceptance.
So to anyone who's suffering like the people in those forums, please take care of yourself and your children first. Leave the abuser to stew in his/her juices. Pray fervently and let the Lord deal with him/her. Maybe your marriage can be restored after a time. But you should consider whether your abusive spouse needs to see the power of the Lord when his/her passive "toilet" suddenly grows legs and walks out.
Reading today's tales of woe brought home to me how secular my thinking is becoming. The particular threads I read were all started by women. All chronicled staggering emotional/verbal abuse, incredible financial irresponsibility, and rampant, unrepentant adultery. The advice was all gentle and supportive, with many pious wishes for spiritual renewal in the offender. I got mad. That is the worst advice anybody could give to people who are suffering like that. I could tick down most of the however-many thousand threads in there and change those peoples' lives with two lines: "S/He is abusing you. Leave." (And if I really wanted to do the cruel-to-be-kind thing, I could add "You can leave now, or you can leave later with an STI and an extra child you can't afford.")
I believe this is one area where the Church is failing her people. Yes, Christians should follow the procedure for rebuking a wayward brother. Yes, Christian spouses should be patient and longsuffering. I don't dispute any of that. I believe the Bible gives the correct procedure for dealing with habitual and unrepentant sin. However, I don't believe that enough people are told that when their spouse is that sunk in sin, stupidity, and selfishness (SSS), they are too far gone to be reasoned with. When your spouse is that far gone, they no longer see you as someone toward whom they have any obligation. They don't see you as human, in fact. You are merely an inanimate object that exists only for their convenience. So when you protest, demand pastoral mediation, and Christian counseling, they are as astonished as if their toilet started complaining about its ill-usage while they were sitting on it.
With that in mind, it's clear to see how the normal Christian platitudes about redoubling prayer and submission reinforce the problem. Staying in the home, suffering in silence, trying to love someone out of their sin gives the offender absolutely no reason to change. After all, you're contributing to the problem because you seem to be putting up with it. Your very presence is used against you as tacit acceptance.
So to anyone who's suffering like the people in those forums, please take care of yourself and your children first. Leave the abuser to stew in his/her juices. Pray fervently and let the Lord deal with him/her. Maybe your marriage can be restored after a time. But you should consider whether your abusive spouse needs to see the power of the Lord when his/her passive "toilet" suddenly grows legs and walks out.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Answering Annie
One of my college roommates started a blog early this year. To my shame, I didn't see this post until just now. I know the topic has been done to death, but I thought she deserved an answer. Here's the original post, and my response follows. Beating a dead horse is still good exercise, right?
Annie says:
There are many topics that I wonder why Christians don't talk about such as homosexuality, mental illness and so on. But the topic that has been on my mind and heart lately has been food. Issues with food is a subject that many of us here in America deal with. But my issue right now I want to talk about is women's relationship with food. I know it sounds funny to say that but think about it we tend to be emotional eaters. We eat when we are happy, we eat when we are sad, when we are bored, to celebrate, when we are upset and so on. Because of my sister and because of some of my own medical issues( there are certain foods I cannot have.) Which sounds like it could be horrible but I have learned to appreciate my food more. I now savor cookies.
I don't say that to say "Look at me - I have it all together," because I still struggle with it. My big question is why do we let food control us? And why can't we talk about emotional eating as Christians? We can talk about things such as eating disorders and I am so thankful there are places like Remuda Ranch in AZ that is an Christian-based organization that helps especially women deal with their eating disorders. But in a church group of women called UFO (unfinished projects) that I go to the topic is always food. Two women there decided to have surgery to help them lose weight. I'm not commenting on my opinion of their decision to have the surgery. But all these women talk about it is food what they can have and what they can't have. And as they lose weight they expect people to constantly be commenting on how good they look. Why do we constantly want compliments about the way we look? Is it cause we as women are vain? Or eating and food is our way of control? Just because we say, "Oh you look soo good!" when you lose weight does that mean that other days, especially when you feel "fat," you don't look good? Why are our compliments so based on our appearances? Our self worth has nothing to do with how we look. So I challenge you all to think about whether food is controlling you or do you have control over food? And what would a healthy relationship with food look like in your own life? Let's start the discussion as Christians and live in the freedom that Christ has given us.
Anna responds:
Just off the top of my head, there's a few things going on here.
1. Women are constantly judged on their appearances in a way that men are not. Feminism and the sexual revolution had unintended consequences in this area. Now modern women have to be sexy all the time, always performing all the time to prove we're equal to men both in the boardroom and the bedroom. Our grandmothers never worried about this, and they had plenty of suitors--and most modern Christian women don't. Toss in the rampancy of porn addiction among men creating further unrealistic standards, and women are really painted into a corner. This is a nasty problem our (within the general Western culture) liberal mothers and grandmothers created and then handed down to us. They can decry it all they like now, but they helped screw us over back in the day. Women can have it all-yeah, right! You want that in a size 6, too?
2. Modern Western food is literally addictive. If you don't cook from scratch according to your personal dietary needs, you're probably poisoning yourself. I work full time. I do what I can to combat processed food, but I recognize after a certain point, I'm SOL (S---omething Outta Luck). The more the government gets involved in what we eat, the fatter we all get. I'm beginning to be convinced that corn subsidies are at the root of the American obesity problem. Practically everything you buy in a package is loaded with high fructose corn syrup (HFCS), soy fillers, or both. Tons of people are allergic to either, or both. (I have a mild fructose intolerance) The human body can respond to allergens by storing it in fat. A lotta potential histamines = a lotta potential thunder thighs, beer guts, and triple chins. In addition, soy is naturally loaded with estrogen. Too much affects male fertility! Eating it in the occasional edamame or tofu dish is one thing; eating hidden soy in practically everything is a yikes!
Eat for your individual health. If you're self-aware, you know what foods make you feel bad, and what foods you need to pick yourself up again. See Fat Nutritionist for a healthy perspective. Michelle's fairly anti-weight loss, which I disagree with, but I like her focus on figuring out what you individually need to eat for your best health, and being unapologetic about getting it.
3. Yes, food is often a means of control in a stressful, hard-charging world. Children compensate for lack of control and stress overload by becoming super picky. Adult men turn to sports, hobbies, work, and porn to get lost in. Women tend to overeat and overspend. Overeating isn't particularly a personal fault of mine; I'm a stress shopper instead. We all have coping mechanisms that are unhealthy. Overeating is a particularly emotionally fraught habit to break because eating is not something we can just stop doing.
Addressing the vanity question: I see a lot of confusion in the world between the definitions of self worth and self esteem. Self worth is your humanity, your inalienable rights, your eternal soul before God. Self esteem is how you feel about the above.
Women who have lost a ton of weight and need constant reassurance are really asking, "Am I worth something? Do you love me the same even though I'm more attractive now? Does my personhood matter to you, or is it just my outer shell?" It's a constant minute re-calibration of insecurity. I can't claim I'm above this one.
For example, let's take the "Do these pants make me look fat?" question our menfolk always dread. We all know its a trap-there's no way they can answer truthfully and spare your feelings, and even if they give a "correct" answer, the female insecurity we all harbor will probably make us change clothes anyway. The problem is that the "fat pants" question is a red herring. The real question is, "Do you still love me even though I feel ugly today?" But we can't ask the real question, because we're always afraid that the answer might be no.
Annie, you and I both know that ultimately, we find our worth and dignity in being made in the image of God. Goodness knows that's the focus of every. single. women's. study. But God made us to relate both to Him and to other human beings. We're also fallen creatures, and as such, we put unhealthy weight on the opinions of other fallen people. We know it's wrong, and stupid, and we just can't help it!
I wish I had a magic pill, and if I did, I'd be living in ... well, probably some expensive, romantic, bohemian city. But until I make my fortune figuring out how to cure all female neuroses, the best answer I can give you is to acknowledge that yes, it's hard; yes, circumstances and people can suck - both singly and simultaneously! Yes, knowing God made you and loves you is cold comfort when your favorite flattering sweater has mysteriously shrunk, and you never put it in the dryer...When your best guy cheats on you, when your dog pees on your new rug (how do animals always know???), when your best friend doesn't have time to see you, and your parents unfairly criticize you....Okay, I'm all depressed now.
It's going to sound crazy, but acknowledging how much the world can suck is a big help. We cry out against all the wrongness because it was never meant to be this way. But as long as mankind was given free will, sin was inevitable - I truly believe that. If Adam and Eve hadn't done it; their kids would have, or somebody down the line. That's the discouraging part. But it helps to remember that we still have free will. We can choose not to keep eating when we're actually full. We can choose to trot around the block after work instead of immediately sinking into the couch for the night. We can choose to fix ourselves up nicely even when we feel like it's no use. We're not helpless. We have the freedom of personal responsibility, and we have the Holy Spirit's guidance.
Annie says:
There are many topics that I wonder why Christians don't talk about such as homosexuality, mental illness and so on. But the topic that has been on my mind and heart lately has been food. Issues with food is a subject that many of us here in America deal with. But my issue right now I want to talk about is women's relationship with food. I know it sounds funny to say that but think about it we tend to be emotional eaters. We eat when we are happy, we eat when we are sad, when we are bored, to celebrate, when we are upset and so on. Because of my sister and because of some of my own medical issues( there are certain foods I cannot have.) Which sounds like it could be horrible but I have learned to appreciate my food more. I now savor cookies.
I don't say that to say "Look at me - I have it all together," because I still struggle with it. My big question is why do we let food control us? And why can't we talk about emotional eating as Christians? We can talk about things such as eating disorders and I am so thankful there are places like Remuda Ranch in AZ that is an Christian-based organization that helps especially women deal with their eating disorders. But in a church group of women called UFO (unfinished projects) that I go to the topic is always food. Two women there decided to have surgery to help them lose weight. I'm not commenting on my opinion of their decision to have the surgery. But all these women talk about it is food what they can have and what they can't have. And as they lose weight they expect people to constantly be commenting on how good they look. Why do we constantly want compliments about the way we look? Is it cause we as women are vain? Or eating and food is our way of control? Just because we say, "Oh you look soo good!" when you lose weight does that mean that other days, especially when you feel "fat," you don't look good? Why are our compliments so based on our appearances? Our self worth has nothing to do with how we look. So I challenge you all to think about whether food is controlling you or do you have control over food? And what would a healthy relationship with food look like in your own life? Let's start the discussion as Christians and live in the freedom that Christ has given us.
Anna responds:
Just off the top of my head, there's a few things going on here.
1. Women are constantly judged on their appearances in a way that men are not. Feminism and the sexual revolution had unintended consequences in this area. Now modern women have to be sexy all the time, always performing all the time to prove we're equal to men both in the boardroom and the bedroom. Our grandmothers never worried about this, and they had plenty of suitors--and most modern Christian women don't. Toss in the rampancy of porn addiction among men creating further unrealistic standards, and women are really painted into a corner. This is a nasty problem our (within the general Western culture) liberal mothers and grandmothers created and then handed down to us. They can decry it all they like now, but they helped screw us over back in the day. Women can have it all-yeah, right! You want that in a size 6, too?
2. Modern Western food is literally addictive. If you don't cook from scratch according to your personal dietary needs, you're probably poisoning yourself. I work full time. I do what I can to combat processed food, but I recognize after a certain point, I'm SOL (S---omething Outta Luck). The more the government gets involved in what we eat, the fatter we all get. I'm beginning to be convinced that corn subsidies are at the root of the American obesity problem. Practically everything you buy in a package is loaded with high fructose corn syrup (HFCS), soy fillers, or both. Tons of people are allergic to either, or both. (I have a mild fructose intolerance) The human body can respond to allergens by storing it in fat. A lotta potential histamines = a lotta potential thunder thighs, beer guts, and triple chins. In addition, soy is naturally loaded with estrogen. Too much affects male fertility! Eating it in the occasional edamame or tofu dish is one thing; eating hidden soy in practically everything is a yikes!
Eat for your individual health. If you're self-aware, you know what foods make you feel bad, and what foods you need to pick yourself up again. See Fat Nutritionist for a healthy perspective. Michelle's fairly anti-weight loss, which I disagree with, but I like her focus on figuring out what you individually need to eat for your best health, and being unapologetic about getting it.
3. Yes, food is often a means of control in a stressful, hard-charging world. Children compensate for lack of control and stress overload by becoming super picky. Adult men turn to sports, hobbies, work, and porn to get lost in. Women tend to overeat and overspend. Overeating isn't particularly a personal fault of mine; I'm a stress shopper instead. We all have coping mechanisms that are unhealthy. Overeating is a particularly emotionally fraught habit to break because eating is not something we can just stop doing.
Addressing the vanity question: I see a lot of confusion in the world between the definitions of self worth and self esteem. Self worth is your humanity, your inalienable rights, your eternal soul before God. Self esteem is how you feel about the above.
Women who have lost a ton of weight and need constant reassurance are really asking, "Am I worth something? Do you love me the same even though I'm more attractive now? Does my personhood matter to you, or is it just my outer shell?" It's a constant minute re-calibration of insecurity. I can't claim I'm above this one.
For example, let's take the "Do these pants make me look fat?" question our menfolk always dread. We all know its a trap-there's no way they can answer truthfully and spare your feelings, and even if they give a "correct" answer, the female insecurity we all harbor will probably make us change clothes anyway. The problem is that the "fat pants" question is a red herring. The real question is, "Do you still love me even though I feel ugly today?" But we can't ask the real question, because we're always afraid that the answer might be no.
Annie, you and I both know that ultimately, we find our worth and dignity in being made in the image of God. Goodness knows that's the focus of every. single. women's. study. But God made us to relate both to Him and to other human beings. We're also fallen creatures, and as such, we put unhealthy weight on the opinions of other fallen people. We know it's wrong, and stupid, and we just can't help it!
I wish I had a magic pill, and if I did, I'd be living in ... well, probably some expensive, romantic, bohemian city. But until I make my fortune figuring out how to cure all female neuroses, the best answer I can give you is to acknowledge that yes, it's hard; yes, circumstances and people can suck - both singly and simultaneously! Yes, knowing God made you and loves you is cold comfort when your favorite flattering sweater has mysteriously shrunk, and you never put it in the dryer...When your best guy cheats on you, when your dog pees on your new rug (how do animals always know???), when your best friend doesn't have time to see you, and your parents unfairly criticize you....Okay, I'm all depressed now.
It's going to sound crazy, but acknowledging how much the world can suck is a big help. We cry out against all the wrongness because it was never meant to be this way. But as long as mankind was given free will, sin was inevitable - I truly believe that. If Adam and Eve hadn't done it; their kids would have, or somebody down the line. That's the discouraging part. But it helps to remember that we still have free will. We can choose not to keep eating when we're actually full. We can choose to trot around the block after work instead of immediately sinking into the couch for the night. We can choose to fix ourselves up nicely even when we feel like it's no use. We're not helpless. We have the freedom of personal responsibility, and we have the Holy Spirit's guidance.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
The Busty Woman's Fashion Primer
I've been hearing little bleats of insecurity from some of my more endowed friends and coworkers about dressing their busty figures fashionably. There's a lot of body insecurity and plain old confusion about what to wear. I can certainly relate. I matured early and have spent a lot of time in pursuit of that female Grail: not looking fat. A large chest makes it harder, but there are still plenty of things out there. With apologies to What Not to Wear, here are my tips:
1. Get fitted for a supportive bra. Unsupported breasts can visually become just another roll in your midsection-YIKES! You’ll need to get fitted about once a year. If there’s no change, congratulations, but small (and large, but we’re pretending those don’t happen) weight and hormone fluctuations can cause you to need different sizes over time. There are plenty of online guides for measuring yourself. Doing this before you go to the store is a good idea-the person measuring you may not really know what they’re doing. A good rule of thumb for getting your band size right is taking your rib measurement and rounding up or down to the nearest whole number. You’ll need about three plain bras for work and everyday life. Two should be beige/nude if you’re white or brown if you’re black. The third should probably be black. White bras show through even white t-shirts. Don’t recommend them at all. Your go-to bra should be the one closest to your skin color. The balconette cut is the most useful to the busty woman. I recommend saving the lower-cut demi for fancy occasions when cleavage is appropriate. Lace is pretty, but it always manages to lumpily show through tops. Again, save the lace and embroidery for times when your bra needs to show. *wink*
Try not to be too chagrined about your cup size. Getting the right bra size, no matter how appalling the numbers on the tag, is the best thing you can do for yourself. There is nothing more distracting to the rest of the world than you walking around looking like you had a falling out with your bra. (Pun definitely intended.) The best way to hide is…don’t hide. Stand straight, and if you don’t make a big deal out of your mountainous outcroppings, nobody else will, either. In fact, most people won’t notice. Remind yourself that people pay for what you may consider a nuisance. When my mom went gray, she was thinking about coloring her hair until her friends started asking where she got her hair done because the frosting was so pretty. Big boobs are another thing people pay for. Yours came free.
2. Make friends with the closely fitted, solid (or subtly patterned) t-shirt or sweater. It should be as snug as you can get away with based on your age and level of physical fitness. Obviously, you don’t want to look ridiculous, but you also don’t want to obscure your shape in any way. Adding fabric bulk is suicidal to your waistline if you have a large chest.
3. Re: patterns, you can scale up with physical size. If you’re a large woman, wear a big print. If you’re petite, look for something more delicate. Beware of florals. If they aren’t abstract enough, it’s practically a guarantee that you’ll have a gigantic cabbage rose blooming on your boobs.
4. Your shirt neckline should at least show your collarbones. Do not wear anything higher than that. Avoid the classic turtleneck at all costs–if you’re cold, wear a scarf. You want to make it clear that you’re accessorizing, not being swallowed body-first by a snake. A loose and floppy cowl neck is fine. Collared shirts are fine. V-necks and scoop necks are ideal. A wide boat neck or ballet neck can be okay; it depends on the overall cut of the shirt. Split necks also fall into this category. For formal occasions, off-the shoulder can be lovely. Strapless is also fine, as long as it fits well.
5. Knits-go as fine gauge as you can. Ribbing and cable knits can be dicey because a large bust can distort the lines of the knit into something that would make an epileptic seize. Chunky knits have to be approached with caution, but can work with care. If you wear a bulkier top, compensate elsewhere with skinnier pants or a slim pencil skirt.
6. Skirts- Your skirt should hit at the skinniest parts of your leg. For most people, this is immediately above or below the kneecap. The longer the skirt, the higher the heel you need to compensate, unless you’re just having an “I need comfy shoes and don’t bother me about it today,” day, or your podiatrist has banned heels. If you’re insecure about your legs, wear opaque tights or solid leggings tucked into boots. White tights are for old ladies, toddlers and nurses. Dark, solid colors or subtle patterns are great. If the weather is warming up, but it’s not quite bare leg weather, turn to nude hose (but not with boots.). If you are quite petite, stick to skirts above the knee almost exclusively.
The two best skirts for the busty lady are the A-line and the Pencil. Bonus points if the pencil skirt has a built-in high waistband. Both types of skirts are fitted in the waist and hip. A pencil skirt goes straight down from the hip and looks straight or narrow at the hemline. An A-line skirt has a slight flare at the hemline.
Also worthy of mention is the gored/fishtail/mermaid/trumpet skirt. This skirt is again fitted in the waist and hip, but has many more seams. It nips in, then flairs out dramatically to give an exaggerated feminine shape. The fishtail skirt is a variation on this, but has a longer hem in back than in front.
Very full skirts and dirndls can be worn, but carefully. They are more useful for the busty woman who is also blessed in rumpage. I personally do not prefer them because adding bulk, even to my lower half, makes me look fatter all over. Your mileage may vary. If you do wear a very full skirt, make sure your top is just shy of painted on. A waist-defining belt may also be a good idea.
7. At all costs, define your waist. You have one. But probably only you, God, and your husband if married know about it right now. Getting your boobs up where they belong will help. A belt will help more. Cincher belts and skinny belts are very trendy right now, and are appropriate for any age, shape, or fitness level. If you don’t feel like accessorizing, a severely tailored blouse or fitted top is enough. Try belts, though. They can help you get away with an unstructured top or cardigan that you just love, but may not be that flattering on its own.
8. Jewelry-Shine by your face can help draw attention upward, away from your chest. Earrings are great. Necklaces are good too, if you pay attention to their length. A good rule is that your necklace should lie within the neckline of your top, no longer. Sadly, we gifted gals can’t really pull off the super long chains that are trendy right now. You don’t want people to think of a waterfall when they see a long necklace drape smoothly down your chest, and then abruptly assume a 90 degree freefall.
I didn’t mention colors, because busty women come in all complexions. The final piece of looking your best is figuring out the best colors for your skin tone and sticking to them. Next time you shop, remember these three rules: Good Bra, Good Fit, and Good Colors. Eventually, you will assemble a wardrobe where most things match, and dressing yourself will become effortless.
1. Get fitted for a supportive bra. Unsupported breasts can visually become just another roll in your midsection-YIKES! You’ll need to get fitted about once a year. If there’s no change, congratulations, but small (and large, but we’re pretending those don’t happen) weight and hormone fluctuations can cause you to need different sizes over time. There are plenty of online guides for measuring yourself. Doing this before you go to the store is a good idea-the person measuring you may not really know what they’re doing. A good rule of thumb for getting your band size right is taking your rib measurement and rounding up or down to the nearest whole number. You’ll need about three plain bras for work and everyday life. Two should be beige/nude if you’re white or brown if you’re black. The third should probably be black. White bras show through even white t-shirts. Don’t recommend them at all. Your go-to bra should be the one closest to your skin color. The balconette cut is the most useful to the busty woman. I recommend saving the lower-cut demi for fancy occasions when cleavage is appropriate. Lace is pretty, but it always manages to lumpily show through tops. Again, save the lace and embroidery for times when your bra needs to show. *wink*
Try not to be too chagrined about your cup size. Getting the right bra size, no matter how appalling the numbers on the tag, is the best thing you can do for yourself. There is nothing more distracting to the rest of the world than you walking around looking like you had a falling out with your bra. (Pun definitely intended.) The best way to hide is…don’t hide. Stand straight, and if you don’t make a big deal out of your mountainous outcroppings, nobody else will, either. In fact, most people won’t notice. Remind yourself that people pay for what you may consider a nuisance. When my mom went gray, she was thinking about coloring her hair until her friends started asking where she got her hair done because the frosting was so pretty. Big boobs are another thing people pay for. Yours came free.
2. Make friends with the closely fitted, solid (or subtly patterned) t-shirt or sweater. It should be as snug as you can get away with based on your age and level of physical fitness. Obviously, you don’t want to look ridiculous, but you also don’t want to obscure your shape in any way. Adding fabric bulk is suicidal to your waistline if you have a large chest.
3. Re: patterns, you can scale up with physical size. If you’re a large woman, wear a big print. If you’re petite, look for something more delicate. Beware of florals. If they aren’t abstract enough, it’s practically a guarantee that you’ll have a gigantic cabbage rose blooming on your boobs.
4. Your shirt neckline should at least show your collarbones. Do not wear anything higher than that. Avoid the classic turtleneck at all costs–if you’re cold, wear a scarf. You want to make it clear that you’re accessorizing, not being swallowed body-first by a snake. A loose and floppy cowl neck is fine. Collared shirts are fine. V-necks and scoop necks are ideal. A wide boat neck or ballet neck can be okay; it depends on the overall cut of the shirt. Split necks also fall into this category. For formal occasions, off-the shoulder can be lovely. Strapless is also fine, as long as it fits well.
5. Knits-go as fine gauge as you can. Ribbing and cable knits can be dicey because a large bust can distort the lines of the knit into something that would make an epileptic seize. Chunky knits have to be approached with caution, but can work with care. If you wear a bulkier top, compensate elsewhere with skinnier pants or a slim pencil skirt.
6. Skirts- Your skirt should hit at the skinniest parts of your leg. For most people, this is immediately above or below the kneecap. The longer the skirt, the higher the heel you need to compensate, unless you’re just having an “I need comfy shoes and don’t bother me about it today,” day, or your podiatrist has banned heels. If you’re insecure about your legs, wear opaque tights or solid leggings tucked into boots. White tights are for old ladies, toddlers and nurses. Dark, solid colors or subtle patterns are great. If the weather is warming up, but it’s not quite bare leg weather, turn to nude hose (but not with boots.). If you are quite petite, stick to skirts above the knee almost exclusively.
The two best skirts for the busty lady are the A-line and the Pencil. Bonus points if the pencil skirt has a built-in high waistband. Both types of skirts are fitted in the waist and hip. A pencil skirt goes straight down from the hip and looks straight or narrow at the hemline. An A-line skirt has a slight flare at the hemline.
Also worthy of mention is the gored/fishtail/mermaid/trumpet skirt. This skirt is again fitted in the waist and hip, but has many more seams. It nips in, then flairs out dramatically to give an exaggerated feminine shape. The fishtail skirt is a variation on this, but has a longer hem in back than in front.
Very full skirts and dirndls can be worn, but carefully. They are more useful for the busty woman who is also blessed in rumpage. I personally do not prefer them because adding bulk, even to my lower half, makes me look fatter all over. Your mileage may vary. If you do wear a very full skirt, make sure your top is just shy of painted on. A waist-defining belt may also be a good idea.
7. At all costs, define your waist. You have one. But probably only you, God, and your husband if married know about it right now. Getting your boobs up where they belong will help. A belt will help more. Cincher belts and skinny belts are very trendy right now, and are appropriate for any age, shape, or fitness level. If you don’t feel like accessorizing, a severely tailored blouse or fitted top is enough. Try belts, though. They can help you get away with an unstructured top or cardigan that you just love, but may not be that flattering on its own.
8. Jewelry-Shine by your face can help draw attention upward, away from your chest. Earrings are great. Necklaces are good too, if you pay attention to their length. A good rule is that your necklace should lie within the neckline of your top, no longer. Sadly, we gifted gals can’t really pull off the super long chains that are trendy right now. You don’t want people to think of a waterfall when they see a long necklace drape smoothly down your chest, and then abruptly assume a 90 degree freefall.
I didn’t mention colors, because busty women come in all complexions. The final piece of looking your best is figuring out the best colors for your skin tone and sticking to them. Next time you shop, remember these three rules: Good Bra, Good Fit, and Good Colors. Eventually, you will assemble a wardrobe where most things match, and dressing yourself will become effortless.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Cheap Riches
Savvy Chic by Anna Johnson came in the mail a few days ago after I devoured the whole thing on one of our Barnes & Nobles dates. It was definitely worth picking up, and I'd recommend it to anyone; just don't pay full price. Anna Johnson is a flamboyant, romantic spendthrift who has (mostly) mended her ways and put forth a manifesto on how to enjoy luxury without paying much, or anything for it. It was definitely a book I needed to read, since, as my mother has famously said, I have caviar taste on a hamburger budget. One could theorize that it was an inevitable backlash against years of missionary (and Dutch) thrift, but I prefer to think of my expensive yearnings as a love of beauty frequently butting up against the fact that quality and originality are rarely cheap.
With my job in jeopardy and our house undergoing an expensive, though involuntary remodel, I've never needed to reign in my spending more. Yet, I've never been more tempted. Some people are stress eaters. I'm a stress shopper. In the last six weeks, I've bought Savvy Chic, a new frying pan to match my set, Stila powder foundation, an Anthropologie sweater (a steal from eBay) and a camisole to match it, two clearance cocktail dresses and a blouse fromPepperberry, a pair of Crocs ballet flats (Too small, returned 'em), and I tried to buy some shoes at Naturalizer (had a coupon, nothing fit). I also bought six yards of Waverly outdoor fabric (30% off!)for curtain panels in my kitchen and seven tension rods on which to hang them. And that's not even counting a $385 binge at Ikea Atlanta two weeks ago that yielded a china cabinet, duvet cover, down pillows, towels, a candle and a flower pot. I'm exhausted and ashamed just looking at that inventory.
Granted, circumstances have been extenuating with the house torn up, but only five or six of the things I bought relate directly to the house. The blouse that hasn't arrived yet from England and Anthropologie sweater are meant to be worn to a job I may not have in a few weeks. Two cocktail dresses? Well, I need one that must do double duty for an August formal wedding and my company's December party...if I'm still employed. Both were on clearance and I couldn't decide. Will liked one better; my mom liked the other. I've stiffened my spine, though. When I try them on, the one that is less flattering is getting returned, along with a linen dress from Pepperberry that was too big, and I haven't returned yet because the kitchen flood happened. I wasn't out of powder foundation; it was just a great deal on an expensive item. I tell myself that I use Stila because it's the only brand I've found that exactly matches my skintone, and it would be a waste to try and discard drugstore brands when I've found something that works perfectly. That is true, but I wore drugstore brands in high school and college. Though the color matches weren't ideal, I didn't look ghoulish. No, I looked bad in high school and college for a whole host of reasons that had nothing to do with cheap makeup.
Now that I feel thoroughly broke, I need to think about things that make me feel rich.
1. Buying organic veggies at the farmer's market. Cost: $10/week if I don't buy a watermelon.
2. Richly scented soaps that come in pretty packaging. Cost: Doesn't matter to me. $3.99 at Marshall's is average, though I like to buy soaps from places we go, like Colonial WIlliamsburg. No lavender or anything powdery or sugary-sweet, please, if you're planning to give me a gift. I like crisp, clean scents, especially citrus, mint and bayberry.
3. Playing Messiah at a volume just short of "bleeds ears" and singing along. Cost: free. It reminds me of many road trips to and from college, and that magical night when I took Will (not yet my boyfriend) to a spring Messiah concert at Lookout Presbyterian. I still get shivery thinking about sitting in the back of that glorious cathedral and being borne away by the polyphony.
4. Good coffee. Good coffee is harder for me to find now that I'm allergic to caffeine. (It makes me itch horribly) A nice, rich decaf is a treasure. Cost: $5 for a medium Snickers latte at Wholly Cow, or $10-15 a pound. Ground coffee lasts a long time at my house because I only drink it on the weekends. I'd be perfectly happy to buy Folgers Gourmet Selects decaf, if only I could find it! I keep checking the grocery stores I frequent, but nobody stocks the decaf! Dunkin' decaf isn't bad, but it isn't special, either.
5. Dried mangoes from Saigon Oriental Market. Cost: $1.98/bag. They're imported from the Philipines. That satisfies my love for exotica. The fact that they're the most blissfully delicious thing ever doesn't hurt either. Sure, I eat the whole (small) bag in one sitting, but that's what makes it a treat, and it's a cheap treat at that.
6. A spotless bedroom. Cost: time and laundry. I've decorated our bedroom so that it looks like an expensive hotel room. I spent less than $300 on it, but it radiates luxury. It's extremely soothing to open the door and see a crisply made bed, scented candles and a gently running ceiling fan. As a matter of fact, that's making me sleepy, so if you'll *yawn* excuse me....
With my job in jeopardy and our house undergoing an expensive, though involuntary remodel, I've never needed to reign in my spending more. Yet, I've never been more tempted. Some people are stress eaters. I'm a stress shopper. In the last six weeks, I've bought Savvy Chic, a new frying pan to match my set, Stila powder foundation, an Anthropologie sweater (a steal from eBay) and a camisole to match it, two clearance cocktail dresses and a blouse fromPepperberry, a pair of Crocs ballet flats (Too small, returned 'em), and I tried to buy some shoes at Naturalizer (had a coupon, nothing fit). I also bought six yards of Waverly outdoor fabric (30% off!)for curtain panels in my kitchen and seven tension rods on which to hang them. And that's not even counting a $385 binge at Ikea Atlanta two weeks ago that yielded a china cabinet, duvet cover, down pillows, towels, a candle and a flower pot. I'm exhausted and ashamed just looking at that inventory.
Granted, circumstances have been extenuating with the house torn up, but only five or six of the things I bought relate directly to the house. The blouse that hasn't arrived yet from England and Anthropologie sweater are meant to be worn to a job I may not have in a few weeks. Two cocktail dresses? Well, I need one that must do double duty for an August formal wedding and my company's December party...if I'm still employed. Both were on clearance and I couldn't decide. Will liked one better; my mom liked the other. I've stiffened my spine, though. When I try them on, the one that is less flattering is getting returned, along with a linen dress from Pepperberry that was too big, and I haven't returned yet because the kitchen flood happened. I wasn't out of powder foundation; it was just a great deal on an expensive item. I tell myself that I use Stila because it's the only brand I've found that exactly matches my skintone, and it would be a waste to try and discard drugstore brands when I've found something that works perfectly. That is true, but I wore drugstore brands in high school and college. Though the color matches weren't ideal, I didn't look ghoulish. No, I looked bad in high school and college for a whole host of reasons that had nothing to do with cheap makeup.
Now that I feel thoroughly broke, I need to think about things that make me feel rich.
1. Buying organic veggies at the farmer's market. Cost: $10/week if I don't buy a watermelon.
2. Richly scented soaps that come in pretty packaging. Cost: Doesn't matter to me. $3.99 at Marshall's is average, though I like to buy soaps from places we go, like Colonial WIlliamsburg. No lavender or anything powdery or sugary-sweet, please, if you're planning to give me a gift. I like crisp, clean scents, especially citrus, mint and bayberry.
3. Playing Messiah at a volume just short of "bleeds ears" and singing along. Cost: free. It reminds me of many road trips to and from college, and that magical night when I took Will (not yet my boyfriend) to a spring Messiah concert at Lookout Presbyterian. I still get shivery thinking about sitting in the back of that glorious cathedral and being borne away by the polyphony.
4. Good coffee. Good coffee is harder for me to find now that I'm allergic to caffeine. (It makes me itch horribly) A nice, rich decaf is a treasure. Cost: $5 for a medium Snickers latte at Wholly Cow, or $10-15 a pound. Ground coffee lasts a long time at my house because I only drink it on the weekends. I'd be perfectly happy to buy Folgers Gourmet Selects decaf, if only I could find it! I keep checking the grocery stores I frequent, but nobody stocks the decaf! Dunkin' decaf isn't bad, but it isn't special, either.
5. Dried mangoes from Saigon Oriental Market. Cost: $1.98/bag. They're imported from the Philipines. That satisfies my love for exotica. The fact that they're the most blissfully delicious thing ever doesn't hurt either. Sure, I eat the whole (small) bag in one sitting, but that's what makes it a treat, and it's a cheap treat at that.
6. A spotless bedroom. Cost: time and laundry. I've decorated our bedroom so that it looks like an expensive hotel room. I spent less than $300 on it, but it radiates luxury. It's extremely soothing to open the door and see a crisply made bed, scented candles and a gently running ceiling fan. As a matter of fact, that's making me sleepy, so if you'll *yawn* excuse me....
Friday, April 22, 2011
Narrowing to a Point
The past six weeks have been absolutely harrowing. First, our kitchen flooded. A dishwasher hose split and we came home to water an inch deep in some places. The day after that, I found out I might be getting laid off. Neither of those situations are resolved yet. I'm keeping a vigilant watch for gray hairs, because I'm sure all the stress has created some.
I will say that the kitchen is coming along nicely, though a big rainstorm put us behind schedule. It won't be finished for Easter, like we had originally hoped, but it should be done early next week. I've barely cooked in six weeks. I've mostly been living on peanut butter and jelly, sometimes eating it twice a day. Haven't lost any weight from it. There's no justice in this fallen world, I'm afraid.
So far, the kitchen has been painted (Valspar Belle Grove Moss) and the new cabinets are in. Mike the contractor finished the counters today. He said that it looked like an interior decorator had designed the kitchen. I was super pleased by the compliment, because I wanted to be an architect or an interior designer in high school, and spent a lot of time studying for the life path I didn't take. Most people might have chosen a cream or tan counter to go with the birch cabinets. That would have been the obvious course to take, but I think it would have ended up looking like the Gobi desert. I chose a mottled gray with blue and rust undertones. I was sweating bullets before it was installed, because I had only a tiny square of laminate sample and no cabinet to match it to when I chose the colors. It worked out, thank goodness. The vinyl flooring will be a sandy gray in a fake tile style. Unfortunately, real tile wasn't in the budget-not because of the materials-but because one guy can install linoleum, but it takes a team to do tile in a kitchen as big as mine.
The contractors took the paper shades down in the kitchen, and suddenly I'm confronted with another problem to solve. The paper shades were never meant to be permanent, and now that they're down, they're not going back up. I have 7 huge windows across the back of the house. Obviously, I don't want the thugs in the house behind us to be able to see in. Traditional blinds would be too expensive, and besides, I want something interesting. I was looking into getting a patterned bamboo or roman shade when I looked at World Market and saw exactly what I was looking for. All kinds of cute roman shades, on clearance. I mentioned it to my coworker and friend, Pretty Smile, and she found me a wonderful World Market coupon that I could print out multiple times. I rushed out and found that the one I wanted was too big for my windows, my second choice was sold out...and there was no third choice. Feeling discouraged and defeated, I got myself a Snickers latte from Wholly Cow, and barely enjoyed it I was so upset. Did I mention it poured all day? It's hard to keep upbeat when it's pouring, and one's cowardly dog shredded the bathroom door in which he was confined. Could not believe the mess. He owes us $60. Thinking of garnishing his kibble until he pays us back. Awful, awful dog!
We went home and took a nap, and upon rising I looked at the window problem with fresh eyes. Back we went to World Market to buy a different style of shade, which was also on sale. The Summerville store didn't have enough, so we drove back to West Ashley to pick up the three we lacked. In the time it took to have a nap, lose an eBay auction of an exquisite Anthropologie dress I really wanted, and return to the store, the style I wanted had sold out. I realize it's hard to find seven matching anything, anywhere, much less when it's on clearance, but I really thought events were in my favor. I can't spend much on this, because all our money is tied up in the involuntary kitchen remodel. They were cute. They were the right price. I had a coupon. I was so sure it was in the bag. GRRRR! So now I have to return four jute shades and figure out what I'm going to do instead. I could sew curtains, but at my current state of busy-ness, that's about as appealing as getting a cavity filled. I wish I could just buy shades, but I really can't pay more than $15 each. I do have the beginnings of an idea, though. My windows are 31 inches wide. There's no reason why I couldn't buy a runner like this, cut it in half, sew it together, and make a pocket at the top for a tension rod. So back to World Market I go tomorrow, to return the shades and see what my schemey little brain can come up with.
It's taking all my ingenuity to keep on top of everything that's going on. I have a distinct sensation that my world is narrowing to a point, and I'm being driven toward the narrow end, like icing in a cake decorator's bag. Hopefully, like the icing, something beautiful and useful will come of all of this. In the meantime, it's awfully frightening and uncomfortable.
I will say that the kitchen is coming along nicely, though a big rainstorm put us behind schedule. It won't be finished for Easter, like we had originally hoped, but it should be done early next week. I've barely cooked in six weeks. I've mostly been living on peanut butter and jelly, sometimes eating it twice a day. Haven't lost any weight from it. There's no justice in this fallen world, I'm afraid.
So far, the kitchen has been painted (Valspar Belle Grove Moss) and the new cabinets are in. Mike the contractor finished the counters today. He said that it looked like an interior decorator had designed the kitchen. I was super pleased by the compliment, because I wanted to be an architect or an interior designer in high school, and spent a lot of time studying for the life path I didn't take. Most people might have chosen a cream or tan counter to go with the birch cabinets. That would have been the obvious course to take, but I think it would have ended up looking like the Gobi desert. I chose a mottled gray with blue and rust undertones. I was sweating bullets before it was installed, because I had only a tiny square of laminate sample and no cabinet to match it to when I chose the colors. It worked out, thank goodness. The vinyl flooring will be a sandy gray in a fake tile style. Unfortunately, real tile wasn't in the budget-not because of the materials-but because one guy can install linoleum, but it takes a team to do tile in a kitchen as big as mine.
The contractors took the paper shades down in the kitchen, and suddenly I'm confronted with another problem to solve. The paper shades were never meant to be permanent, and now that they're down, they're not going back up. I have 7 huge windows across the back of the house. Obviously, I don't want the thugs in the house behind us to be able to see in. Traditional blinds would be too expensive, and besides, I want something interesting. I was looking into getting a patterned bamboo or roman shade when I looked at World Market and saw exactly what I was looking for. All kinds of cute roman shades, on clearance. I mentioned it to my coworker and friend, Pretty Smile, and she found me a wonderful World Market coupon that I could print out multiple times. I rushed out and found that the one I wanted was too big for my windows, my second choice was sold out...and there was no third choice. Feeling discouraged and defeated, I got myself a Snickers latte from Wholly Cow, and barely enjoyed it I was so upset. Did I mention it poured all day? It's hard to keep upbeat when it's pouring, and one's cowardly dog shredded the bathroom door in which he was confined. Could not believe the mess. He owes us $60. Thinking of garnishing his kibble until he pays us back. Awful, awful dog!
We went home and took a nap, and upon rising I looked at the window problem with fresh eyes. Back we went to World Market to buy a different style of shade, which was also on sale. The Summerville store didn't have enough, so we drove back to West Ashley to pick up the three we lacked. In the time it took to have a nap, lose an eBay auction of an exquisite Anthropologie dress I really wanted, and return to the store, the style I wanted had sold out. I realize it's hard to find seven matching anything, anywhere, much less when it's on clearance, but I really thought events were in my favor. I can't spend much on this, because all our money is tied up in the involuntary kitchen remodel. They were cute. They were the right price. I had a coupon. I was so sure it was in the bag. GRRRR! So now I have to return four jute shades and figure out what I'm going to do instead. I could sew curtains, but at my current state of busy-ness, that's about as appealing as getting a cavity filled. I wish I could just buy shades, but I really can't pay more than $15 each. I do have the beginnings of an idea, though. My windows are 31 inches wide. There's no reason why I couldn't buy a runner like this, cut it in half, sew it together, and make a pocket at the top for a tension rod. So back to World Market I go tomorrow, to return the shades and see what my schemey little brain can come up with.
It's taking all my ingenuity to keep on top of everything that's going on. I have a distinct sensation that my world is narrowing to a point, and I'm being driven toward the narrow end, like icing in a cake decorator's bag. Hopefully, like the icing, something beautiful and useful will come of all of this. In the meantime, it's awfully frightening and uncomfortable.
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