I’m looking in the mirror as I say this. And wondering when the shoe’s going to drop that prods me into the positive action necessary to make life changes. For my health. For my business. For this family’s livelihood.
Sorry, this one’s going to be introspective. But I guess I’m taking baby steps in the right direction.
I spent the morning listening to bits and pieces of the Hay House World Summit. Then, in my web wandering as I worked, I realized that the Small Business Summit that my company is holding in cities throughout the nation this year was arriving in Greenville this Friday. It’s a morning of how-to’s to help small businesses boost their internet and marketing presence, and I’ve wanted to attend since I first heard they were holding them. I went to similar conferences last year here in AVL, but don’t have access to them locally this year, and we’re talking about a topic that turns itself inside-out every 6 months.
So that sets me scrambling about getting my arse down there this Friday, when to leave, what to wear, getting my arse back in time to get work done cuz I’m a pinch behind this week because May 12 (more on that below), and hotdamn will I get to see my boss (who’s an ambassador for the company and one of those people who radiates light when she’s in a room), and various other mental meanderings…
The outfit concept is actually easy, because I only have one decent dress that nails business casual, and all my slacks are leaning out of that category, the curse of working from home. Your wardrobe goes to seed fast when you work from home, unless you’re a clothes horse, and it’s harder to be a clothes horse when you freelance. Not exactly a bad thing, until you realize you have to be in public for something, and yoga pants only fly at the Walmart.
And then my ego stopped by. I’d just set pizza dough to rise and was wondering when the UPS man was going to show, because I have a couple of Paleo cookbooks coming today. We’re changing our habits drastically once Les gets back from Cali. He’s attending a conference at Joshua Tree the last week of May/first week of June, and then I want to implement some major changes for the both of us. He’s had food allergy problems that have him skipping meals and losing weight, and I’m on the opposite end of the spectrum.
Without even looking in the mirror, I start berating myself. You’ve lived here for 2½ years. That’s 2½ years away from the godawfulevil that was Florida. And you look…exactly….the….same. I make a mental note to ask Les the minute he wakes up, if he’ll color my hair tonight (he actually enjoys doing this…yes, I know, ladies, I’m spoiled. And no, you can’t have him). I ponder whether my girdle and slip are where they should be…I’ll definitely want to wear those, since the weather’s so amazeballs lately, I won’t wear hose…and I’m a mid-40s gal, so that’s a rather huge concession toward fashion on my part (I mean, seriously, does anyone wear hose anymore?). Should I practice with makeup a bit before Friday morning, since it’s been ages and I don’t want to look like a $3 whore, plus I’m hitting the road at 6:30 a.m. so my eyes will barely be open to doll myself up anyway….and I need to deforest the eyebrows.
All this to see maybe-one friend, but otherwise to be in a room full of strangers learning for a couple of hours. I’ve already changed my purse back to the satchel, because I don’t want to look like an Asheville hippie…I’ve been in a boho mood since Tuesday, but the crazy patterns of those purses would clash with my dress anyway. But I’m turning into an Asheville hippie, and I’m totally OK with that…it’s more than a style of dress; it’s a way of life. So yes, I’ll dress in the dotcom’s version of business casual for this gig, but I may change back into me before I even get in the car to drive back to Asheville afterward.
Ever so slowly, I’m adding sandals and long skirts to my wardrobe, and unclenching about showing my bare legs to the world. I went through a phase recently of trying to figure out what I wanted to look like, because I’m 45 and that makes me think harried mothers or country club, airbrushed, frigid housewives, neither of which I am. I purged a bunch of my purses because they felt too casual for someone my age to be walking around with…and yea, some of them were purchased in the juniors department on a whim…but who dictates what purse looks right for what age group? A bunch of overpaid creative types straight out of a screen test for Devil Wears Prada? I’m not looking to walk a runway; I just need something with enough pockets to hold my shit, but not so many that it makes me crazy.
All this rambling to wrap my head around getting dressed for a public appearance that will involve bending over a laptop for 3 hours…
Seedlings have been started, but I’m half-assing them and not expecting them to take. Already warned Les that in about 2 weeks, I’ll bag those and want to buy seedlings. We bought spearmint, peppermint, and comfrey a while back, and they’re looking good; and Les added an aloe recently. His mom brought up a begonia, which I’m hoping will attract bees.
May 12 marked 8 years since Dad passed. It hurt, until I realized I wanted to make May 12 “Be Kind to Yourself” Day. I caught up on sleep, took it easy on work, did a little shopping, and just listened carefully to myself and treated myself well. The results were rather invigorating. I’ve had nerve pain in my left shoulder blade the last couple of days, but after this morning’s Advil and listening to the words of Dr. Dyer in his movie The Shift, I’ve had such an amazing work day, and the pain seems to be abating.