"Butch", The Beauty Peddler

I was reading an article the other day that touched on who and what defines beauty for us and it got me to thinking.  "What is my first memory of beauty?"  Oh, I remember flowers and having an early appreciation of their colors.  I remember thinking my Mom was pretty.  How that  translates to my early definition of beauty I don't know.  I was young....I DO know that.   And then, I read an article about Avon, the perfume and cosmetic company that has been around, it seems like, forever.  (In fact, I found out that Avon was bringing beauty into women's lives 34 years before women got the right to vote!). The memories of what was beautiful to a young girl came flooding back.

My personal experience with Avon began before I even started grade school.  I remember when the Avon lady came calling.  Her name was "Butch"...an unlikely moniker for a woman peddling such feminine products.  She carried a black bag and it contained all kinds of creams and potions that she'd show to my Mom.  I can still smell the fragrance of the face cream Mom always bought (perhaps why she has gorgeous skin at age 90?)  Butch used to have small samples of the perfumes she had to offer.  And if she brought Mom's order from the last visit, I recall being impressed with the beauty of the containers.  One was "Topaz", a strong fragrance in a tall yellow decanter with a faux topaz-type gem on the cap.  Funny how we remember such things... The real excitement came when Butch would acknowledge the young girls in the house and allow us to choose a little white sample tube of lipstick.  I suppose we used it when we played dress-up but just to be given such a grown up thing made me feel very...well..grown-up.

We've come a long way from the days of the iconic Avon lady, ringing the doorbell of a non-driving Mom...bringing, with her, the promise of beauty.  Now, we are bombarded with ads in magazines, commercials on TV,  cosmetic counters in all of the shopping malls... trying to profit from our perhaps misconstrued idea of what beauty is.  I know it's all pretty superficial....striving to improve ourselves outwardly like that....especially if we don't strive to be beautiful inside, as well.   But I find it pretty humorous now that some of a young girl's earliest recollections of beauty came from a woman named "Butch".

They Turn Out ---In Spite of Us

Do you remember the pressure you put on yourself, as a young Mom?   I certainly do!

Back in the 70's, one big dilemma was deciding whether to be a working Mom or a stay-at -home
Mom.   For the working Moms, it was "How will the kids fare in daycare?"  For the stay-at-home Moms, it was "Is one salary gonna do it  for the family?"  No matter if it's at home or in the workplace, mothers "work" and no matter where you were, your heart was where your kids were, most of the time.

Breastfeeding was another topic that ignited the passion on opposing sides.  It wasn't for everyone and those who thought it was, were vocal.  I remember the La Leche League, a group dedicated to educating women on the benefits of breastfeeding,  had meetings advertised in our newspaper... I was invited but said, "no thanks"...I don't need a meeting for THAT... That's something I'll handle myself"...

Whether to start a preschooler at an early age..or hold one back from kindergarten was another dilemma that many Moms had -and have -to face.  "Are they ready?"  "Am I ready?" "Should my son play football?"  Should my daughter take dance lessons?"  Those kinds of decisions seemed so big at the time....and they were....  As new Moms, we had a lot to learn  - and to decide.

As long as there are Moms, there are going to be decisions to be made about what's best for our kids, our families, ourselves.  Things that are just assumed now were real "stumpers" back in the day.  And there will be new "stumpers" for Moms  that we old Moms can't even imagine.

I'm proud to say, after all the soul-searching, decision-making and wringing of hands through the years, I have three reasonably "normal" sons...and maintained my sanity (most would say).  I guess the message here, is ... Relax, Moms, don't overthink things, and enjoy your kids.  They turn out --- in spite of us.

National Grouch Day

I have tried to be quasi-positive in my posts, but sometimes, you just have to let it out.  So In observance of "National Grouch Day" - Yeah, I made that up - I am going to list a few of the random things that tick me off.  

1.  Grey days -I can almost take cold and I can almost take hot but I can't stand grey!
2.  Folks who talk or text while driving- you're handling a 2000 pound weapon there... And you're not that great at multi-tasking.
3.  Cashiers, waitresses or nurses who call me "Honey" or Sweetie" - first of all, you don't know if I'm sweet ( Many days, I'm not!) and it's condescending to an older woman.
4.  Large portions at restaurants -  how about serving us half of that and charging us less?
5.  Most commercials on TV- especially, the feminine product ones, the erectile dysfunction ones and any that make the Dads look like idiots.
6.  Gasoline prices- How can they be so different from gas station to gas station?  One part of town as much as 50 cents a gallon from another part of town.  Who sets these prices?
7.  People who illegally park in handicapped spots-  Really?  Get some exercise and park where you're supposed to...on the other hand, excessive handicapped spots.  Does a roller rink really need 10 of 'em?
8.  Unkind people- life's hard enough for a lot of folks without adding -being treated  shabbily- to their list of things to contend with.
9.  Pet owners who walk their dogs and don't clean up after them.  I have my own dog and  after the winter we've had, I've got plenty to clean up myself.
10.  Vendors who rush the seasons- I get it- you have to be a bit ahead of things but I don't want to buy a winter coat in July or a bathing suit in February!  (Truth be told, I don't wanna buy a bathing suit EVER!)

There!  I'm done with my grumbling til next year's "National Grouch Day"...  Oh, yeah, and I can't stand liars!

Purses, Handbags and Pocketbooks

Purse, handbag, pocketbook (okay, nobody carries a pocketbook anymore!)  No matter what you call it, they say one can tell alot by looking inside it.  Uh, oh...

It's not so much the contents of my purse that's telling.  I have the usual items.  My reading glasses (or two pair). A few tubes of lipstick, worn down to various levels (even though I only use one shade) hand sanitizer, two packs of sugarless gum, some tissues, my wallet, with the prerequisite credit cards, my driver's license (that has the same weight I was 25 years ago and a photo that makes me look like a crystal meth user) a little bit of cash and change, sometimes a bottle of water, and of course, photos of the grandkids. Nothing revealing there.  I bet 80% of the women I know have the same items in theirs, some of the time.

What's more telling than the contents of my purse is the condition.  One would think I'm a terrible housekeeper if the interior of a purse was the gauge.  I carry a purse until it wears out and then I throw it out and get a new one.  (Designer purses aren't an option then, are they?)  I also use my purse as a receptacle for receipts, gum wrappers, and any other paraphernalia I may accumulate over a period of months.   And it stays that way until it gets so heavy that I start walking like Quasimodo or Rumpke Trash Service schedules a special recycling stop just for me.

I envy women who are so organized that their purse is pristine at all times.  It must be wonderful - being so organized.  But I like my purse the way it is.  I never know what I'll find when I empty it.  And who doesn't love a treasure hunt?

That Realization......

The absolute worse thing about aging, I've decided, is coming to the realization that you can't do what you used to do or what you used to love doing!  It can be a gradual process and sneak up on you or WHAM! It can be brought to your attention in a sudden way...like hurting your back...or having achy muscles for days.

I have never been one to shy away from "heavy" work...in fact, working in the yard three seasons out of the year is my favorite activity.  Cutting grass, cutting trees and bushes (although hubby isn't a fan of my using power saws because of the accident-prone thing I have going on...) hauling stuff, digging...I love it all...or I used to.  That was before that old enemy named "Aging" had to remind me that I'm not the girl or woman I used to be.

Now, I have to do things in dibs and dabs...with my loss of focus these days (see prior post) that could be problematic.  Bending over to pick up sticks..."oh, that garden statue could use some paint"...   I used to be able to knock out a lawn cutting job in an hour or so.  Now, I dawdle around and set a goal of getting done before sundown...and our yard's not that big! Getting the lawn and porch furniture out for the season used to be cause for celebration - Spring's Here!!   These days, I spread that task out over a week!  And I used to be able to plant tomatoes on a nice spring morning.  Now?   Kroger's has very nice tomatoes.

It's not that hubby's a sloth or anything.  He's always there to give a hand but, after 42 years, he knows I like things the way I like 'em and it's best he stays out of my way.

Maybe it's time I loosen my grip on some things...not an easy realization for a control freak...but is having a well-cut lawn, well-arranged and newly painted porch furniture, and tasty tomatoes worth the hard work and subsequent aches and pains?  I'll have to get back to you on that.

What's My "Shelf Life"?

I'm seeing, as I've gotten older, that more and more of the things I love, are "discontinued".  My favorite shade of lipstick - the one I've used for 10 years - is no longer available.  The brand of my make-up?  Same deal.  

And the colognes of my high school years..."Ambush"?  "Emeraude"?  They've been relegated to Drugstore.com and probably wouldn't smell the same as they did those many years ago, anyway.

The days of equating the smell of a shampoo with pleasant memories of our younger days are obviously over, too.  Remember Prell, that thick, green shampoo concoction? Or Adorn hairspray?    Now, the formulas of everything we use are "new" or "improved" upon so often, who can zoom in on a favorite?   Or connect it to a memory?

There's a lot to be said for longevity so I should probably be grateful that I'm outliving all the products of my past.  Maybe I just need to be "new" and keep on "improving", too,  But I sure wish they'd let some of those old favorites hang around just little while longer...  Don't you?

A Rite of Spring

When I think back to the springs of my youth, my thoughts always go back to the neighborhoods I was blessed to live in.  After the long winters, emerging from our homes, to be greeted by the neighborhood kids who'd also been in seclusion, was always welcomed.   Oh, sure!  We'd seen them throughout the winter, but there was something special about the freedom that spring, and nicer weather, brought us.

We didn't have a garage at our home in Lindenwald so the first order of business was for Dad to get the bikes up from the basement.  I can remember the excitement when our bikes were tuned up and ready to go.  "Where would they take us this spring"?  If it was only crossing the street, to explore the other part of our neighborhood, it was spring and life was good.

Roller skating was another mode of springtime transportation.  We didn't have the kind of shoe skates the roller rinks had, of course.  Ours were metal skates that fit over your shoes and could be adjusted to many sizes, as long as you had the key that came with them.  That key assured us that we'd have those skates for a few springs, no matter how much we grew.  I can remember all the cracks and bumps in our neighborhood sidewalks.  Avoiding them was a necessity if we were to remain scrape and bruise-free....no easy task.

Walking definitely made it easier to converse with friends than biking or skating ever did.  And for that reason, it was, and still is, my favorite way of getting around.    Whether it was walking to school, clenching a bouquet of lilacs for the May altar (you're never too young to start getting in good with your teacher, you know...) or walking home from school, loaded down with homework ( a lot of good that sucking up did, huh?)  being outside with school friends and neighbors was what we'd been waiting for.

Seeing folks, out and about in the spring, enjoying everything that this wonderful season has to offer,  takes me back to a much simpler time...and as an old girl who has seen 61 springs,  I never tire of it.  I hope your spring is glorious, too.

My Wish For Women

Okay, I'm being redundant here...beating a dead horse, so to speak, with my topic today but it bears repeating and reconsideration, I think.

When did celebrities and the media dictate how we look, how we feel about ourselves, how we live?  Maybe back to the days when Marilyn Monroe and Elizabeth Taylor graced the covers of magazines...maybe back even further?

I don't know but it has to stop!  And I'm ready to lead the charge!  With that in mind, I humbly have these wishes for the women reading this.

I wish teenagers realized that they may not have clear skin all the time.  It'll come someday, perhaps, but it's one of those things you go through to get to the good stuff of life.  And your body's not going to look like Rihanna or Jennifer Lawrence's either...  unless your parents are Rihanna's or Jennifer's.   Most of that's all genetic.

I wish young Moms realized that their bodies are not going to snap back into shape  like Jennifer Lopez's.  It'll take time, if it happens at all.  And if it doesn't, who's going to love you any less?  And your kids aren't always going to look like her picture-ready kids either.  That's not reality.

I wish middle-aged women realized that cellulite and expanding waistlines are a fact of middle age life...unless you have a personal trainer and a nutritionist, like Halle Berry.  Same with wrinkles -unless you take the Botox route and look like you've stood in front of a jet engine all day long.  Your wrinkles are a testament to all the smiles and laughs you've enjoyed.  Treasure them!

And older women -of which I'm one.  I wish for you good health and peace...no easy task some days, I know.   During a time when bra sizes should maybe read "38 Long" instead of "38 with a B Cup" and your knees ache at the thought of walking a mile, we have to rejoice in our track record and smile that we've all made it this far.

I'm not suggesting that we all throw in the towel and slob it up the rest of our lives.  Nope, we still need to maintain -with exercise, moisturizing,  putting on some blush and lipstick, a smile on our faces and carry on, like we do.  

God made all of us in all shapes and sizes and gave us all different life experiences.  To strive to look like an unrealistic face or body on a magazine cover isn't fair to us, no matter the age.  Maybe the Hollywood types would do well to emulate US for a change.  They'd see women, happy with their lives, with their strength and with their beauty.  That's my wish anyway.  Have a terrific day!

"Bad Decisions Make Good Stories"

"Bad decisions make good stories."  Suffice it to say, I have some good stories.

Some of my bad decisions weren't life-changers, (although I was sure our marriage was in jeopardy a few times) but make for some good stories. Let's share.

A bad decision was, thinking, early on, that I was qualified to tackle home projects beyond my talents.  I usually waited til hubby was out of town on business to try my hand at home improvements.  Seemed easier to "seek forgiveness than ask permission".

There was the time I tried to "pop" a ceiling, which entailed applying a heavy mud-type plaster and using a special brush, creating a design in the ceiling.  It was supposed to hide cracks and imperfections, not end up looking like Mammoth Cave, complete with stalagmites, seeming to drip from the ceiling.  Our room dimensions changed, too, it seemed...going from nine foot ceilings to 8 and a half.  That project was pretty hard to hide!

Or the time I painted bathroom tiles...I failed to mention to the paint store guy that the tile was plastic, not ceramic, so he sold me acetone to "rough up the surface so the paint would adhere".  How was I to know that acetone melted plastic?  I had a vase of flowers, placed very strategically, that hid that mess for three years!

Or the spring I decided we needed a pond in our yard...  I purchased the heavy plastic, had large stones loaded into the trunk (who knew a car had a suspension system?) bought a pump that would create a beautiful spray or trickle down like a waterfall.  I was all set to start!  Would somebody tell that crazy woman how much dirt has to be dug for a pond the size she has planned?  Or that there are different sizes of pumps and the one she bought was going to shoot water all over the front porch?  I knew I was in over my head on this one and my dear Dad came to the rescue.  

There was a time, I think, that my sweet husband was afraid to leave home.  And keep in mind this was before the days of HGTV, a TV network that encourages my kind of behavior.  I haven't learned my lesson yet but my projects aren't as frequent as they used to be.  Aging and physical limitations are one reason... or maybe I have more common sense now.  Nah, it's because hubby doesn't go out of town as much as he used to.  "Can I pack your bag, honey?"