Monday, March 30, 2009

Friends are like jeans


This weekend while putting the laundry away, I couldn't believe it, I counted 1, 2, 3... 10, 11,12... 27 pairs of jeans!! At first I was appalled, even a little embarrassed. Believe me, I have had that discussion with the girls many times, "eat your broccoli casserole, there are poor children in Africa that are starving" or "you should be grateful that mommy is buying you another pair of crocs, even it they aren't in hot pink". How have I become this excessive? Who am I kidding, I am sure my husband can attest, I am definitely an overindulger. For instance, months ago I had an intimate group of friends- under 10 terrific pals that I could call on in any crisis situation- collected over a lifetime. Now with my new addiction of Face Book I have over 160 "friends". I know what you are thinking, sure don't have to accept every friend, colleague or relative that sends me an invite. But I truly love the idea of connecting with people from my past, especially since my current social calendar has dwindled to almost nothing. So I decided to start a project, goal #1-clear my clothes closet , goal #2- clear my social closet. Going through my pairs of jeans also collected over a "fashion lifetime", I began to realize that my jeans and my friends had very similar qualities and this was going to be much harder than I thought. First pair, my favorite designer jeans, man I paid a mint for those...and because of that, I bring them out only for special occasions. To me I feel the need to protect this pair, I wear them 2 or 3 times before washing , however if you own a good pair of designed jeans you also know that structurally they are probably the toughest of the bunch- KEEP. Next I came across a pair of my most comfy jeans, holes in the knees, perfectly worn in. Wearing these always make me feel comfortable, they fit all my bumps and crevices. I can throw on a fancy top or a sweatshirt and these jeans look fab no matter what-KEEP. Then there is the most trendy pair of the bunch, my flairs. An impulse buy, good for just one season. They are a very important part of my wardrobe- they give me a sense of belonging to the fashion world, if just for a temporarily time. However, one the season passes I will place them back into my closet to collect dust, until the opportunity comes to wear them again- KEEP. And lastly my mom jeans- or my version of them. However, anyone who knows me, realizes that driving a mini-van is the closest that I will EVER come to the "mom stereotype". These may be my most conservative of the lot, but in this case conversative translates to good for occasions. I find I keep going back to them over and over again, they are definitely the most reliable- KEEP. The rest, well herein lies my dillema. The rest, they are all just filling up my space...sure I love them but do they really stand a chance against the keepers? My skinny jeans- which I can slide over my hips only after I hit the Chinese buffet across the street and lose against a battle of food poisoning. I may put these on every other month- but I am uncomfortable the entire time. My fat jeans, really, why did I bother leaving the house anyway? And my boyfriend jeans, baggy with holes, they are actually floods, but that ship has sailed. So here I sit with a 2 ft. stack of extra jeans. But much to my chagrin like my "friends" I can't seem to let them go. Sure I may only wear them a couple of times a year, but sending them to Goodwill so that someone else can take pleasure in them seems too final. It took a long time to accumulate this denim, purchased from all over the country, their diversity should be appreciated by me not determined by the size of my house. I decide after further thought that I am not able to part with any of them yet. I guess I will just have to build a larger closet...serioulsy, why can't I?

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Standing in Line


It’s Sunday morning. In my past life, I would still be under the covers, in bed, nursing a hangover, impatiently waiting for someone, anyone, to go out and buy me a cheeseburger from McDonald's to soak up the indiscretions of the night before. Fast forward 10 years, on this cloudiest of mornings, I have already cooked omelets for the family, fed the cats, cleaned the kitchen, compiled a CD of songs for my oldest daughter, sent the other to time out and as if I have nothing else to do, now I will attempt to join a new kind of club, the blogging community. As I write this first entry questions race through my mind. Am I hip enough to enter through these virtual doors? Or will the bouncer look beyond me an usher in the witty chick behind with the great tips on gardening and food storage? Or maybe I am too late, and I am standing in line for a venue that has closed it’s door and moved to a new secret location without telling me. And if I do happen to slip by unnoticed, once in the club will I be surrounded by new faces and interesting conversations, people curious to hear what I have to say or will I find myself stuck at the bar alone making small talk to the bartender about the weather and the last time he served a flaming Dr. Pepper. Never one to turn down a social opportunity…I think I'll give it a shot, maybe even two. Seriously, why can’t I?