Foolish

I like fashion.  Getting dolled up is fun.  I even put on a little mascara and perfume when I go outside to garden in my own yard.  For me.  I'm well beyond looking good in a bathing suit, but being semi-geriatrically put together makes me happy.  So when matching became unfashionable, I was a hot mess, let me tell you.  That was one of my rules.  Sheesh.  I remember the start of my fashion woes when my mom and Aunt Sara told me not to buy saddle shoes.  I swore saddle shoes would never go out of style.  We were all right about that.

Sarah, my oldest, made me a color wheel while she was away at college to help me understand what went together and what didn't.  It's still in my closet.  Jess and Allie are so used to my befuddlement that,  when we're getting dressed under the same roof, they will just pick out things for me that can go together.  Dan even does better than I do.  If there are no other options and I am in doubt, I show him and ask if it's OK.  Being a husband of 30+ years, he merely offers a yay or nay, never commenting on fit or style.  I pick out my work clothes for the entire week on Sunday night - every single thing down to the ear rings, belts and shoes - so I can get to work on time, without a crisis of indecision.  Naturally, just so you know, a bunch of models in the NY Times fashion page are matching lately.  This took much too long.  My mom used to say to just wait a minute, it'll change.  A minute is a relative thing, but she was right, of course.

So, thoughts for the day...  Be still.  It'll change.  Have fun.  Watch for fun.  Observe and participate in baby magic or any other sort of frisking whatsoever.  Get dolled up.  Make fun. Of yourself whenever possible.  Some of us are easier targets, but if you observe, you will find plenty of fodder. I take my foolishness very seriously.  I hope you do too.  And I hope you keep on being grateful with everything you've got. XOXOXO