The time between arriving at your destination and wondering what your future holds.
Caught our Easter by surprise.
Doctor on the hunt…
I’m a misfit toy.
I know who I am but not
where I should belong.
But I need some assistance.
Dear Dr. Watson…
Mathematics on steroids
“Memory is an internal rumor. ”
– Stephen King, Duma Key
I watched the finale of America’s Got Talent with my niece and her husband tonight. We looked forward to each act, discussed the contestants journeys during commercials and were inspired, to say the least, by all the performers on that big stage. We disagreed about who the $1M winner would be but did agree that I should post a blog entry about this top special.
While this is the blog entry, I don’t think it will be what my niece had in mind. My review of all the acts can be written into my next post. As for the judges, the love I have for Howie, since seeing him perform at the Worcester Auditorium in the late 80’s, can also wait – what’s another 30 years? While I think he’s a comedic saint, it will just have to be done elsewhere. As for the lady in red she gets enough of my ink when I write about that other show. The show with a segment always dedicated to hair and make-up, not snow cones. AGT wasn’t a carnival and Simon says I must get on with the show and finish my bloody post.
The finale had all the bells and whistles. Everyone stepped up their game from set design, to orchestration to costuming. The costume fashion also impacts AGT and the MC supermodel would agree. All women have their favorite, most impactful outfits that help them rock the runway of life.
Ladies remember their best fashion statements. They bring us back to a certain era or remind us of a special time in our lives. My most memorable outfits that span 50 years are these:
- the short-sleeved red top with white anchors that was actually a body suit and had snaps in the crotch. I think I wore that getup every summer day when I was 5.
- a quilted made in USA cotton top of three triangles – red, white and blue – in 1976. This fifth grade beauty matched it with my red, white and blue plaid pants on school picture day and I had the pigtails to pull it off.
- first time I felt like a model orange gauze blouse with two front pockets that made me look like I had a pair in Junior High. I wore that statement piece to a pop warner football dance with my discount designer TJ Maxxinista first pair of Brooke Shields Calvin Klein jeans.
- 80’s tuxedo blouse I always stole from my older sister to wear to high school. Dressing like a man, ribbon bow ties and supersized anything was so in; we were ahead of our time.
- first green angora cowl neck sweater for the college girl. Those draped folds were fun to put on and take off.
- working girl paid-for-it-herself with a salary emerald silk blouse. It was under the blazer of a two-piece-man’s-world-accounting-suit but I knew how I felt underneath it all.
- best wardrobe of Momwear ever: maternity tops to await babies in style, breast-feeding blouses that provided easy-access for feedings every five minutes, my polyester still made in USA Girl Scout leader T-tshirt, the AAU basketball tournament iron-on “MOM” uniformed top, all the LL Bean still-like-new sweaters that our girls gifted with their own money and college mom jerseys to name a few.
The clothes a woman loves best are the ones that make her feel or stay beautiful. Michael Kors knows this. And my niece knows the Michael Kors brand. His soft white cotton double breasted sweater with two mini leather belt attachments is Melissa’s absolute favorite top. Its closet finale was also at her house tonight. She wanted her treasured statement piece to journey with me now. I was amazed at her fashionable gesture. We disagreed that it no longer fit her correctly but we did agree that it was a very special top.
Don’t you know me yet?
Use your imagination.
Creep all over me!
Life can’t get you down.
Just write through the hurt and then –
Your story is told.
Brimfield Antique Flea Market has everything you could want and decorative pieces you cannot even imagine. The food is New England fare and the dealers are out of this world. This regional melting pot is a famous place to interact with the shop owners and artists, listen to their expertise and hone your bargaining skills.
“How much are your little wooden people?” is a standard inquiry.
“$2 each.” the weather-worn dealer responds when he sees you referring to the shoebox of peeps he has displayed from house clean outs, auction lots and probably even the sewers where IT lives.
Since you already have all the clowns, you select three other unique characters.
Returning to pay the man holding a billfold that State Street would want to manage, you hand him a $5 bill.
“Miss”, as he speaks more slowly, “Three times $2 is $6.”
“Actually, I figured $2 each or three for $5 was a better deal.”
My sunny disposition on an overcast day, prompts an honest “that’ll work too” as he adds my Abe to the till and tells me to have a good day.
I’m no rookie.
My offer was fair. Besides, those toys were all I wanted and the girl was sweeter than I could imagine. My other dollar went towards spicy sausage with peppahs and onions fare.