Islay Girl

That last post? A fragment.

I had settled in to write a long post on why i was the Worst Mother, and I was called away from my important task (as you'll note by the lack of punctuation at the end of the sentence), and never came back to finish it.

BUT the Sweatshirt of Death? I felt bad all day, so bad that I almost took a clean Preferred Sweatshirt to school mid-day.

I decided to pick her up early, because I had discovered her missing library book (in the back seat the whole time. never made it into the house) and was worried that she'd be upset -- it was the first week the pre-K was allowed to check out books, and here she was, overdue -- anyway, I pick her up, she's wearing the sweatshirt, we get home and I ask how it went with the sweatshirt (I knew she would need help putting it on and taking it off and she hates asking for help) and she tells me she loves that sweatshirt.

Sigh. The lesson here? Make your child wear Sweatshirt of Death? Children are adaptable? Don't coddle your 5-year-old? I don't know.

Hi, i'm IslayGirl and I'll be spending money I don't have.

So. Today I slaved away on the million and a half things I"m doing for work, but since I'm fighting a sinus infection (combined with the need to ACTUALLY GET SOMETHING DONE), I worked from home.

I was the world's worst mother this morning, and sent the Wee One off to school wearing the Sweatshirt Of Death because she had wiped her nose on her other Preferred Sweatshirts (it's cold here, and the kids can only wear Uniform-approved sweaters or sweatshirts, and the sweaters look like they're right out of Happy Days)

Southern Gentlemen

This lovely blogger got it in one.

This is EXACTLY what I want (well, right now anyway. you know me). I think it's because that's what guys that I went to college with were like. Charming But Single describes them to a T.

Get on outta that rut, update.

Thank you all for the excellent suggestions. I think I did all of them.

On Sunday I hung curtains (raspberry shot silk. Oh, yeah, baby).

Then I cleaned out my closet (again. there's always more).

Then I rearranged some furniture.

I volunteer every week with Big Brothers/Big Sisters, and TLG, I agree, that always gives me perspective.

Today I'm home with some vile sinus thing, so I'll spend some time counting my blessings.

There's always someone sadder than you.*

Why is it that I am a weirdo magnet?

I have joined a particular online community wherein members post reviews of local businesses. It is NOT a dating site, but it's a fun, literate crowd, and not a bad place to waste some time.

So last weekend, I got a nice message from a new member. I looked at his profile, and saw that he seems a good 10 years, if not 20, older than I am. I re-read the message, thinking I had misinterpreted the tone. No. No, no I had not.

Within a couple hours he had sent me another message asking me out (I mentioned the site is not a dating site, yes? In fact, people on the site make quick work of people who are trolling for dates). I looked at his profile again, just making certain he wasn't in fact George Clooney, and reassured that he wasn't, I turned him down gently. He wasn't rude, just misguided.

THEN he sent me another message, saying that, perhaps I misunderstood, he was asking me out.

ARGH. What is WITH these people? I resisted replying that I wasn't being stupid, I was being NICE.

Tonight I got a message from another woman on the site, asking me if I had any weird messages from Sad Man. I assumed he had asked her out, too, and he had, but he ALSO told her that he had asked me out and felt horrible about it.

Poor man. But seriously. The aged and recently separated should not be let loose on the rest of us who are JUST TRYING TO GET THROUGH THE DAY.

*Special K won't need the gloss for that one, but for the rest of you, it's a line from Sliding Doors.

Blazing Saddles

I have a little problem addiction to blazers. Jackets. At last count, I have 35. All purchased within the past 15 months.

See, last September I went back to working in corporate America after about nine years of freelancing. When I last showed up for any sort of normal job, I worked on the night desk of a major metro daily newspaper, and wore jeans almost every day (night).

The job before that was at a slightly smaller and much more corporate newspaper, so I wore 'work' clothes even though I started work when almost everyone else was going home.

All of this is by way of telling you that the last time I shopped for work clothes, I was wearing a LOT of Laura Ashley, with some Talbots and Ann Taylor and a few Anne Klein II suits thrown in. I may have still owned panty hose at that point.

Add to all of it that I was working in Chicago instead of Phoenix, weighed approximately 30 pounds less and you have an ironclad reason to go out and buy some clothes, girl.

I discovered the Last Chance courtesy of my Thinking Fashionista boss. It's one of two locations in the U.S. where Nordstrom sends its returns. Do NOT under any circumstances confuse this with Nordstrom Rack. This is where you can find a $1,000 Marc Jacobs bag for $150, or a $700 Valentino jacket for $75. (I got the jacket last week.) There's also a lot of junk to wade through, but last Wednesday I found a $200 pair of Ferragamo mules for $12.50.

So. This place fed my blazer addiction. Armani. Theory. Trina Turk. Laundry/Shelli Seagal. You get the idea.

I love blazers. They can pull any outfit together, cover a multitude of sins, make you appear far more in control than you actually are. And when you're paying 15 or 20 cents on the dollar, you can talk yourself into a LOT of them.

I had the perfect blazer wardrobe. Blazers for jeans. Blazers for church. Blazers for over dresses, blazers to spice up the three pair of Banana Republic trousers I seem to wear interchangeably.

And then (thank you Jesus) I lost 30 pounds. Great. But now none of my extensive, comprehensive collection of blazers fit. I've started buying for spring (Nanette LePore light blue cotton with adorable floral accent!), but in the meantime, I'm like a dog without a bone. Pele without a soccer ball. Lyle Lovett without his hair.

I'm holding out for spring. In the meantime, I'm wearing a lot of cardigans.

Get on outta that rut.

I've been feeling a little down lately (I know, how can you tell the difference from any other time, har har), what with the end of the SG and the rain and the PMS and job confusion and all.

What do you do when you need to get out of a rut? How do you turn around your perspective? Do you do jumping jacks? Clean closets? Rearrange the furniture? Bake?

Antisocial update

Well, we didn't go. And while I completely understand the 'when you get there it's better' sentiments from my kind commenters, this wasn't that kind of event.

(And I'm proud to say that I know the difference now -- it used to be all social events were nightmares until I looked back, but through judicious use of medication THAT particular social anxiety has been quelled. And alarmingly, I find myself actually looking forward to some events these days. Even ones with *gasp* strangers.)

We really were exhausted, which I realized 20 minutes before we were supposed to go, when the Wee One melted down in spectacular fashion, and then fell into a sleep that didn't end until 7 this morning.

So. Self-justification complete! Rationalization finished! Onward!

IslayGirl? I'm sorry, she's not in right now.

WHY do I hate social events so much?

I keep trying to BE more social, and so I accept invitations, and then 33 minutes before I'm supposed to be somewhere, I am desperately searching for a reason not to go, and developing an unreasonable hatred of the hostess who was kind enough to invite me.

Part of why I don't want to go to this particular event is that my well-meaning and extremely kind and generous friend has invited me to attend a party at which I know i will be the only single woman. And while I am grateful that she has not invited a similarly unattached male to make up the numbers, her other friends are all Firmly Coupled and also Staunchly Bohemian and I feel like a Capitalist Preppie when in reality I am Bleeding Heart Liberal saddled with An Abundance of Pearl Jewelry.

I think I'm getting to the point where I need to recognize that it's OK to be discriminating in my social calendar. I spent so much of my life being completely antisocial that in attempts to be social I've gone the other way.

But all this ruminating doesn't help me decide if I should crump out and feign illness to avoid a mind-numbing and socially awkward evening, or if I should suck it up and go.

The men in my life.

I was thinking today, trying to puzzle out this burning question of Why do I think I need a man? and Why do I feel this empty space somewhere off to my left, kind of around my shoulder, when I don't have one?

As I was turning this over with my usual tenacity of a 10-year-old with a Rubik's cube, I thought, well, what has my life been like when I wasn't with a guy? And then I thought. And thought. And thought. And I realized that if you added up all the boyfriends and serious boyfriends and husbands, I have spent approximately 13 months of my life since 1984 without a boy of some sort:

August 1989: broke up with high school boyfriend, had not yet met future husband #1
March-April 1998: in between short-term boyfriends for 6 weeks or so.
August-October 1998: in between The One Who Got Away and getting back together with HH
September 2006 - February 2007: Physically separated from HH, had not started seeing LL (tho since divorce was final in february, technically not a break)
June - November 2007: Between LL and the SG (not even including the Marine)

No WONDER i have no idea what to do with myself. Clearly, I need some time alone. (She told herself, sternly.)

The thing is, I ~know~ this all goes back to my issues with my father. Well, that's great, but what do I DO about it? I've been working toward this very Zen thing of finding what I need inside myself, and through my faith, etc., etc., but the logical part of me just wants a tidy step-by-step guide, something like "The Thinking Girl's Guide to Resolving Parent Issues So You Can Get On With Your Life."