Thank you for all the lovely comments you have been leaving on my blog. I haven't gotten myself back fully in form yet, though I hope to be back responding to your comments soon. I talk to you in my head, does that count?
I have been spending much of this week resting in bed and shlumphing about in pyjamas drinking tea and feeling that annoying combination of exhausted restlessness. Each time I exerted myself for a trip to the store or the cafe or a birthday dinner at the pub, I had to retreat to bed for a couple of days to recover.
I took an hour to peruse the thrift shop this week which contributed to wearing me out though did result in some new to me pieces I am thrilled with. The price is that I am too exhausted to shower, dress, cook or do anything creative the next day. Because Mum's birthday was this week and I anticipated a dinner out with my parents and son, I have tried to be good and not do too much so I am fit to go out. I get so frustrated with my limits and when I am feeling this way this is usually the moment someone chooses to tell me how much they would love a life of leisure like mine and just a moment to rest. All I can say is, be careful what you wish for.
One of my happiest thrifting finds has been a very soft cream coloured sweater which I now want to wear with everything. It is perfect with jeans and bare feet and with a velvety skirt.
Here is an outfit for dinner at an haute pub, not black and white, but brown and cream. Though this sweater can tend to make me look smaller of boob and larger of waist, sometimes I just don't care. I have a compact sort of body shape which is really only flattered by very form fitting outfits and I don't dress that way too often. Look I went to all the trouble of some eye makeup! I don't bother with mascara because all it takes is a very light swipe of grey or taupe around my eyes to make them look quite made up.
I attempted some close up photos to show off the details but with only moderate success. The boots are suede, the skirt is velour ( I think the difference between velvet and velour is subtle but that if it has some stretch it is velour) and has both embroidery and lace. I do have a lovely scarf that matches these boots but I decided not to be so matchy and to use the little splash of coral pink. (I deliberately did not say 'pop of pink' because I loathe that word 'pop' as used to excess when referring to a small addition of colour)
This outfit makes me happy. I believe in being happy, in making my own happiness so I don't like to dwell on my frustrations but for the sake of a little balance, a moan now and then and some sympathy from someone who understands never seems to hurt. So since I am in a moaning mood, let me tell you about my new neighbour. We share a wall, the wall in the living room and it seems to have average sound proofing. With the previous tenant I didn't hear much, but male voices carried through more effectively, usually sounding like a baritone mumble. The new neighbour is a single woman, roughly my own age, with apparent aspirations of a singing career. When she moved in she informed me that she took lessons and soon enough I heard her. I heard her every day for a couple of hours a day, lessons and practices. She cannot sing. Tone deaf, flat and off key are the words that come to mind, and while I think everyone has the right to sing to her heart's content daily, this is a couple of hours a day with a microphone.
I got up the courage to knock on her door and request that she practice in a different room, one without a shared wall. She informed me she was just making that very change but that her lessons would be in the living room so I was going to hear her on that one day a week. I brought her a bottle of wine to welcome her to the building, but she did not invite me in. We had a bit of a friendly chat in the doorway and I was able to slip in my request about the singing in a casual and non-critical way. So now I only have two hours a week where I must listen to her butchering songs by Queen or Dusty Springfield, microphone, electronic music with thumping base and off key warbling still all included. Her online singing teacher either has great confidence in his ability to teach or he is just happy to take her money. I suppose my only potential for revenge is to make her a character in my novel.
Speaking of which, I will soon get more chapters posted. I am in the middle of a protracted and procrastinating switch to a new computer so essentially working from two different machines. Every time I blog I am on the new one and my writing files are not here yet. I have had a long dry spell but am beginning to feel the urge to get back to my fiction writing.