Friday, January 22, 2010
Women-ever try applying make-up with your weaker hand?
Men-ever try shaving with yours?
So has been my life lately. I did master some pretty good skills considering: I’ve been able to put together dinner most nights. Not serve them, but I did get simple dishes together and into the oven or microwave so hubby to takeover when he walked in. Steamed or roasted veggies that came pre-cut and washed in a bag. Rice pilaf, baked potatoes and baked fish and sausages.
Okay, nothing to say-“here lives a food columnist”, but tasty, nutritious and hot regardless of the situation. I can also tie my own shoes. I quickly made sure I figured out how to make the necessary pot of coffee in the mornings. I even manage to put on my own deodorant. There’s a vision for you to think about.
Back to my slight case of the blues-I decided since one of the things that I was not going to be able to manage is using a blow dryer and one of those metal brushes to do my hair, I might as well cut it.
With the appointment made, I risked cast and footing to get there during a torrential downpour. It only rains in California once a decade for a week and this was it. I must have been thinking something along the lines of “why not get a complete rush while I’m doing this? I can get a haircut, a chance at slipping and falling (again) and get out of the house all at the same time.”
I had my wonderful hairdresser of who knows how many years (she’s also a relative of sorts, my sister’s mother-in-law) give me an even shorter version of my usual pixie cut. Hey-wouldn’t you have done the same? This I can simply run my fingers through and scrunch with my remaining hand and look a bit like an “old” Halle Berry. (Stop laughing people-you think I can’t hear you?)
Now I’m feeling much better about my looks. My make-up techniques are still a bit perquacky and I can’t get my skinny jeans on, but my hair looks good. Next in my mission to feel a bit less of a mess is to go out and find pants that don’t require zipping, pulling and buttoning and still look more of pants and less like sweats. I guess while I’m at this futile mission, I’ll start looking for my “mother of the groom” outfit.
I looked at the rack at the bridal store-I’m oh so NOT going to wear any of those dresses. That would really give me a case of the blues. I know it’s my future daughter-in-law’s day to shine and be noticed, but I will not wear what was on those hangers. Ick-I can’t believe they sell anything so matronly to anyone.
Are you wondering why I sound so chipper for a person writing about a case of the blues? Once I got home the raining ceased and the sun came out, just for a few minutes, but it was enough to boost my mood-of course.