Sunday, August 31, 2014

Horrible History ...



So, this RE-RUN isn't necessarily for a lack of goings on.   Rather, my own inertia - which I suppose is a fancy way of saying, 'lazy.'
  
DH and I are enjoying a laid-back weekend ... looking forward to a brief get-away later this week.   Pictures to come!

Meanwhile, I felt compelled to honor one of my favorite people, gone too soon.  
------------------
 

Paris, August 31, 1997.  
Do you recall that awful day?  

From the moment we "yanks" lay eyes on Diana Spencer, I was smitten.  And, in an odd sort of way, I remain so.  

One day an associate asked, "Why are you crying?  You didn't know her." 
Not being blessed with a knack for appropriate comebacks, I sort of slunk away -- probably to reapply my eyeliner. (Again.)
Later, a friend counseled, "You should have said, 'Yes, I did -- everyone knew her'."

Journalist and author Peggy Noonan remembers picking up her Sunday paper:  "I realized I was holding horrible history in my hand.  I felt what a lot of Americans felt: shock, of course, and then sadness -- and then shock at the depth of my sadness."

When someone dies unexpectedly, we feel our own sense of vulnerability.  These days, our nation is reminded of other "horrible history."   Remember how, after 9/11 everyone seemed kinder to one another?  

We need to walk in a constant awareness.  To be kind.  And most important, live every day as if it's our last.  Because one day, it will be.

Friday, August 8, 2014

Colors of the rainbow


I'm not really sure when it began.

... Perhaps the day someone told me, "The mother of the groom wears beige and keeps her mouth shut."  (Really! ... isn't that a hoot?)

... or the time DH -  not usually given to random compliments - volunteered, "You look really nice in black."

Aside from being cast as a nun in our high school's production of the "Sound of Music"  I don't recall owning much 'basic black.'  Or brown.

So who'd like to tell me, what's wrong with this picture? 


But wait .... there's more!  
Pathetic, I know.
Last Fall, I was really taken aback when someone said, "Bet-cha I know Myra's favorite color -- purple!"
I wanted to weep.  

She couldn't have known, I regard the color purple right up there with brussels sprouts.  I think it stems from my childhood neighbor, mean old Mrs. "D", who seemed to lavish undue attention on her creepy African violets.

Still, my friend' statement was an educated guess -- given the fact all my 'play clothes' range from lilac to eggplant.

Honestly, it wasn't my idea!   Purple is the 'official' color of my workplace, so I've several branded golf shirts.   Too, I once belonged to the flamboyant Red Hat Society, whose members are expected to wear  purple, purple - and more purple.    A few of those gals remain good friends, but for the most part it wasn't a cozy fit.


Mind you, I'm about as flamboyant as a rock.
 
Wouldn't you agree, something's gotta give!  
 
In her later years, momma believed everyone needed a 'signature color.'    I've not heard that since!   Have you?
 
Methinks it's high time I take myself to my fav consignment shop and (attempt to)  rediscover the color wheel.   Or at least, a signature 'pop.' 
.... I'd like to rediscover what it's like choosing an outfit based on my mood.
But in all honestly, I'm nervous.  Isn't that silly?

This has to be a solo flight.   Usually it's a long time coming, but when I finally decide to shop-to-buy, it's best done alone.  

What's your shopping M.O.?    Are you a 'browser' like my best friend  ... a 'buddy stroller', aka the denizens of Mall-land ... or perhaps a 'point-and-shoot' type who trusts her own instincts?

Please wish me luck!
... and don't forget to have yourselves a sweet weekend!


Hugs from Phoenix,
Myra