"I love this mirror." My dear aunt Katty said, regarding her reflection and tweaking her hairstyle.
She was visiting us in our South African 'cottage' i.e. holiday home by the sea.
I didn't see anything special about that particular mirror, although it was pretty enough, with its curlicued frame of white-painted wrought iron.
"Why?" I asked.
"'Cos it makes me look thinner."
I'd never thought of such a phenomenon, but ever since then I've occasionally come across mirrors that enhance or detract. Most recently, buying clothes on sale in an upmarket store I wondered if the owners had ever considered theirs. It's one of those establishments where you have to leave the cubicle in order to see how you look (hate that!). The three-way mirror is flawed and makes you (me) look like a dumpling. Not a good idea from the retail side.
Anyhow, I'm happy to tell you that the bathroom mirror in our new abode is a friendly one. This is nice because I can start off the day feeling good about myself. And, even though I don't subscribe to the idea that we should all be slim, but rather that we all have our optimum weight, whether it be on the thinner or fatter side, I like that.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Into the clothes closet
Are you a clothes hoarder? I don't mean, 'do you have too many in your closet', rather I mean this...
A couple of weeks ago my husband and I went to buy some clothes on the sales. So I got a couple of new pairs of jeans, a linen dress and a tee shirt type top. When we got home, I carefully put them away and doubt I'll wear any of them before next summer.
Meanwhile, my husband bought a light jacket, socks and two pairs of shorts. He's worn one of the latter, as well as the socks and the jacket... that was, after I'd cut off the labels and thrown them in the paper recycling.
So I was wondering... What's that all about? Why do I keep the new things rather than wearing them? I suspect this has to do with living in South Africa. During the days when my mother was still alive and we used to meet for morning coffee and shopping every Tuesday (so very glad we did that! They were special times.) we used to buy some imported clothes. Now, if you think about it, we were in the Southern Hemisphere so the seasons didn't tally. This meant buying garments and not being able to wear them for quite a few months.
What I discovered then was this: there's something rather delicious about knowing you have something new and nice to wear, just waiting patiently in the closet. So I guess that's when I acquired the habit of being a closet hoarder.
How about you?
A couple of weeks ago my husband and I went to buy some clothes on the sales. So I got a couple of new pairs of jeans, a linen dress and a tee shirt type top. When we got home, I carefully put them away and doubt I'll wear any of them before next summer.
Meanwhile, my husband bought a light jacket, socks and two pairs of shorts. He's worn one of the latter, as well as the socks and the jacket... that was, after I'd cut off the labels and thrown them in the paper recycling.
So I was wondering... What's that all about? Why do I keep the new things rather than wearing them? I suspect this has to do with living in South Africa. During the days when my mother was still alive and we used to meet for morning coffee and shopping every Tuesday (so very glad we did that! They were special times.) we used to buy some imported clothes. Now, if you think about it, we were in the Southern Hemisphere so the seasons didn't tally. This meant buying garments and not being able to wear them for quite a few months.
What I discovered then was this: there's something rather delicious about knowing you have something new and nice to wear, just waiting patiently in the closet. So I guess that's when I acquired the habit of being a closet hoarder.
How about you?
Sunday, August 10, 2014
On moving in
Our new abode is feeling like it's our home... pretty much. Even though we got things in order pretty quickly, the soul stuff still takes time, you know? One problem of course is that you unpack, put things away, but the cupboards, shelves and drawers are different and you can't find anything! Then there are the items that go missing....
This happened to our bread knife.
Why bother with a bread knife? I hear you ask. Well see, we like different size slices and often find the ready-sliced bread too thick. But more than that, whether it's my imagination or not, I think bread Tastes different when it's been machine-sliced. Hand-sliced feels better.
Maybe I've mentioned our dear late friend Jeanne Malherbe, she who was the pioneer bio-dynamic farmer in the Cape, South Africa. She made wonderful, healthy bread but she also did something I envied, she could hold a loaf and cut it towards her heart. Isn't that special?
Anyhow, I digress. Our bread knife went missing. I knew it was unpacked on the day we moved in because I saw it lying on the kitchen counter, thus...
Now, I hope you'll agree this is a special kind of bread knife. It would be hard to find a replacement, let alone that this belonged to my mother and so the sentimental value is huge... I can think of her each time I hold it in my hand. Anyhow, I went off in search of a new one, and was put off by the price.
So we made do. My husband sliced the bread with the ham knife as well as he could. Two months went by. Then one day it was raining when we needed to leave the house. I opened the hall closet and patted the top shelf, looking for my small folding umbrella. Something metal moved under my fingers... and lo and behold, there was the knife!
My husband must have used it in the hall for opening one or two or three of the packing boxes and placed it up there, out of the way.
In any case, thank you dear house spirits. I'm glad you're becoming friendly towards these new intruders.... I mean, occupants.
This happened to our bread knife.
Why bother with a bread knife? I hear you ask. Well see, we like different size slices and often find the ready-sliced bread too thick. But more than that, whether it's my imagination or not, I think bread Tastes different when it's been machine-sliced. Hand-sliced feels better.
Maybe I've mentioned our dear late friend Jeanne Malherbe, she who was the pioneer bio-dynamic farmer in the Cape, South Africa. She made wonderful, healthy bread but she also did something I envied, she could hold a loaf and cut it towards her heart. Isn't that special?
Anyhow, I digress. Our bread knife went missing. I knew it was unpacked on the day we moved in because I saw it lying on the kitchen counter, thus...
Now, I hope you'll agree this is a special kind of bread knife. It would be hard to find a replacement, let alone that this belonged to my mother and so the sentimental value is huge... I can think of her each time I hold it in my hand. Anyhow, I went off in search of a new one, and was put off by the price.
So we made do. My husband sliced the bread with the ham knife as well as he could. Two months went by. Then one day it was raining when we needed to leave the house. I opened the hall closet and patted the top shelf, looking for my small folding umbrella. Something metal moved under my fingers... and lo and behold, there was the knife!
My husband must have used it in the hall for opening one or two or three of the packing boxes and placed it up there, out of the way.
In any case, thank you dear house spirits. I'm glad you're becoming friendly towards these new intruders.... I mean, occupants.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
In defense of 'should'
So, in certain circles where I hang out, there seems to be a campaign to eliminate 'should' from our vocabulary. Now, I well understand that people feel it's an attack on personal freedom to tell someone they 'should' do something. Personally, though, I think 'should' can be helpful. Even between man and wife!
Yes, I appreciate it (mostly) when my husband suggests I should do this or that. Sometimes I balk, but even then, after some thought, I'll probably admit he's right. And that's helpful. The suggestion might be purely on the practical level, something to do with my physical health, or even on the soul and/or social level. So I come around and experience the benefit. More and more I realize that a marriage partnership provides opportunities for growth if you can allow them into your heart.
This whole subject came up for me just recently. Most Thursday evenings I enjoy an 'artistic' conversation with my son-in-law, the artist Richard Heys (see http://www.richardianheys.co.uk). We talk about the ups and downs of living the creative life, share inspirations and so forth. I also, of course, follow Richard on facebook where he posts photos of his latest work and also news of upcoming exhibitions and other small and big triumphs. Most recently one of his paintings has been shortlisted for a prize. You can see it right there, on the website.
Now Richard also writes most beautifully and has wonderful titles for his paintings. So I said to him, 'You should always put up the titles of your paintings.'
Anyone have an argument with that?
Yes, I appreciate it (mostly) when my husband suggests I should do this or that. Sometimes I balk, but even then, after some thought, I'll probably admit he's right. And that's helpful. The suggestion might be purely on the practical level, something to do with my physical health, or even on the soul and/or social level. So I come around and experience the benefit. More and more I realize that a marriage partnership provides opportunities for growth if you can allow them into your heart.
This whole subject came up for me just recently. Most Thursday evenings I enjoy an 'artistic' conversation with my son-in-law, the artist Richard Heys (see http://www.richardianheys.co.uk). We talk about the ups and downs of living the creative life, share inspirations and so forth. I also, of course, follow Richard on facebook where he posts photos of his latest work and also news of upcoming exhibitions and other small and big triumphs. Most recently one of his paintings has been shortlisted for a prize. You can see it right there, on the website.
Now Richard also writes most beautifully and has wonderful titles for his paintings. So I said to him, 'You should always put up the titles of your paintings.'
Anyone have an argument with that?
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