One of those weird days where you know someone out there is listening

My brain is a dryer right now . . . thoughts are tumbling around inside of it, and I'm trying to make sense of what just whirled past. Was that a sock? Or underwear? You get the picture, I hope.

I really didn't intend to write anything today, but bam! sometimes life just hits you with things you shouldn't ignore. Being at church this morning I was reminded just why I make the trek down there every time I can. First of all, I just love how my choir people welcome me right in, even though I'm barely there in time for mass these days, much less choir practice. Secondly, I had a little nun who about comes up to my belly button ask me if I intended to come to the Lenten stations of the cross this year because she remembers the reflection I gave two years ago, and she was so touched by that. Awh! Third, I get to see my friends at church there, and this weekend, the Radelets and the Zlatic parents were there to celebrate Mark and Joe's first birthday. I like them (the parents; I already really like the others) more every time I see them. Then Fr. Greg's homily was pretty great; he said something that I wanted to remember . . .something attributed to St. Francis (whose feast we celebrated today). . .something like "I have done what I was meant to do; I pray that you do the same" or something along those lines.

But the biggest sense that there is someone out there who wants to reassure me came post-Mass. I was briefly shopping around in the Sarah Center, a store in the old St. Francis bookstore that sells crafts made by women in OTR, and the proprietor of the store tells me, "Oh, I love your hair!" Now, you must understand, I have a very love/hate relationship with my hair. It is a massive, messy mane that takes far more time than I had this morning to get the fly-aways to cooperate, to get the curls to lay together, etc. In short, I was feeling a little anxious about having not tied it back before getting to mass; instead hoping that however it airdried would be tolerable. But by this time, I could feel the frizz. So I responded to the lady, "Oh, thanks. It's a little crazy and frizzy this morning! Didn't have time to really fix it."
Her response? "But that's precisely what makes it beautiful."

Huh? Say again? I don't get it. My hair is beautiful . . . because it is frizzy? Not despite it? I . . .don't know what to say. If that is true . . .well, then I've been thinking about beauty in entirely the wrong way.
So I've been thinking about what this lady said ever since. And I'm still thinking on it. I'll get back to you.

But here's an appreciation of beauty that DIDN'T surprise me. I received the most comments today on my shoes. Now, since I love shoes and own quite a few pairs, it is not unheard of that people will comment on whichever pair I'm wearing. But these shoes, well, I'll admit, even I find them dazzling. They include about 4 inches of a narrow, golden heel; long, pointed toes; and this brilliant metallic purple hue that matched rather well with my purple top. They're hard as hell to walk or stand in for very long, but they get a lot of admirers. You know who really seems to like them the most? Men. Yes, men seem to LOVE heels. The taller, the better. I had one random guy stop me and say, "You know, I just have to tell you how much I love your shoes! I saw you walk in today, and thought they were great!"
Um. Ok. Thanks. Now don't have an orgasm over it.
I could feel the eyes of the men in OTR staring at my feet and figured they were admiring the shoes, too. No one said anything directly, but I could hear murmurs as I moseyed past. There is a part of me that would LOVE to better understand the appeal of heels to men. Don't get me wrong; they are stunning (not mine in particular, just in general), but they're the most impractical things. And men love 'em. Women, too, but men feel the need to comment on them like they do nothing else I ever wear. It makes me wonder how many sexual fantasies feature heels. I wonder if I could wear whatever I want, say a potato sack or "mom" jeans and shoulder pads from the 80's, and a pair of pretty heels and still get men to react the same way. If I were a more daring kinda gal, I'd test that out.

And now, to tie all these random things together . . .my point is that I had been wondering if I could be beautiful without special makeup or done-up hair. And the answer seems to be it's possible to be natural and beautiful at the same time . . .if I also wear heels.

Odds and Ends

I have a myriad of thoughts running through my brain right now, so bear with me.

1st: I am mostly pleased to note that the new kitchen knife is quite sharp. How do I know this? 1: it cut through the rind of the honey dew melon I purchased. 2: it cut through a piece of my finger. Slippery little sucker.

2nd: Oh, me. I overspend. I overdrafted! Anxiety sets in. IMUSTNOTPURCHASEANYTHINGTOMORROW! Say it with me now: I must not purchase anything tomorrow! Maybe if I say it over and over . . .

3rd: I like boys. I don't mean in a creepy way. I mean in a "you are kind of weird but often funny and I get you a lot more than I used to" kind of way. That made no sense. Well, it does to me. Anyway, they look at the world so differently than I do. For instance, I love that my cousin Kyle referred to my big purple ring that KC made me as an egg. I could almost hear the thought processes rushing through his head as he stared at it when we were visiting in IA this summer. "Ok, that one is a butterfly, and that one is . . .a massive lump that has a kind of point at one end and a large rounded other side--like an egg!" I'm sure he felt triumphant figuring that out. Also, I saw HP #6 tonight, and it just cracks me up watching Harry and Ron fumble their way through girls. Ron especially has so little clue.

4th: Two thoughts occurred to me as I used the movie restroom tonight--one for each time I used it. 1: why do some stalls not have the little slidey lock thing anymore? I mean, does someone go into a violent rage and pry them off? Does someone steal them? Do they fall off? This is what I ponder as I lean forward to prevent the door from popping open during use. 2: why, on God's green earth, do people paint bathrooms in movie theaters that hideous neon yellow? It doesn't make things bright and cheery as one might think. No, it casts a heinous, jaundice-like hue on everything. Shudder.

5th: Curly hair is so damn expensive. Yes, it deserves an expletive. I know Mrs. Moutos would be disappointed in me using a four letter word when I know so many longer ones, but really, sometimes the occasion just calls for it. Anyway, yes, curly hair is ridiculous. At least mine is. I can never just buy those cheap little general store products. I can never just settle on one little anti frizz cream to style it. No, it takes multiples of these products so that I may go into overdraft to have half way decent hair. Straight haired people, let me never hear you complain that you can't do anything with your hair. At least it can be managed cheaply.