Once you go black …

MomZombie got a day pass today.
All day away. With money. Whoo-hoo, as the happy people say.
Visited the rock star hair salon for touch up, walked out kinda blond. I have two days to decide whether to keep such a high-maintenance ‘do, or go back to my dark brown with warm streaks of red and amber.
Had lunch alone. Sounds depressing but it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do this. It was nice.
Went shopping for fall/winter clothes. There is never enough money or time to find clothes. I desperately need to be on “What Not to Wear.” I want the $5,000 New York shopping trip with a clothes coach.
Nominate me. Here’s why:  I wear almost all black clothes. Oh, on wild days I wear brown, or olive green or gray. Most of my almost all black clothes are old, faded, frayed and mostly frumpy. I always intend to have a cool wardrobe of hip clothes.
But I yo-yo diet. So, if I get a collection of good stuff, I gain weight and it sits in the closet going out of style. Then I’m fat and depressed so I buy a whole bunch of cheap crap at those big-box cookie cutter stores and wear the hell out of it all until I lose the weight. Then it’s a slow-go getting back to a nice wardrobe again.
I got crazy a couple years ago and purchased an array of colors: bright oranges and juicy reds, shirts swirled with turquoise and emerald, tops slashed with stripes in pink and purple. But I found that this sort of clothing only looks good on skeletons. If you have junk in the trunk, muffin tops and an ample chest, you risk looking like a sofa in such stuff. (I even had a lady try to sit on me at the mall. No joke. Ask Girl from the West.I must have looked like an inviting cushion or something.)
So I’ve retreated to the slimming browns and blacks and grays. I splash on color using jewlery, scarves and belts. But I’m drawn to black. Today I bought yet another black top to wear with jeans and a new pair of zip-up high-heeled boots. What color? Black, of course.
Tell Clinton and Stacy, would ya?

Walking a mile in someone else's shoes

When you are the owner of a gas-guzzling urban assault vehicle (leased in a moment of sheer stupidity since gas prices skyrocketed the minute I left the dealership) and above-mentioned tank is out of order, you learn how to use your feet.

Actually, I’ve been learning how to walk like a New Yorker or like anyone in any major city outside of here — the Motor City– ever since I visited China.

In China, everyone walks. For miles. With box springs and mattresses on their backs. Or they take public transportation or ride bikes. You’ll find moms with toddlers balanced on handlebars, a sack of groceries tied to the back fender. People in China are thin. There just might be a connection between the walking thing and the not-fat thing.

Before SUV went out of commission, before lease miles vanished, gas prices forced the issue to some extent. One by one, the reasons for driving were diminished. Warmer weather made it easy to stuff a backpack with essentials, fill a Nalgene bottle with ice water and hit the pavement.With each passing month I’ve pushed myself to walk farther and longer. In the back of my mind, I worry what I’ll will do when winter hits.

There has to be a way. After all, the American pioneers essentially trekked from New England to the Rockies on foot. I won’t get into how many of them were slaughtered along the way, or attacked by wild animals, or plunged into crevasses, or contracted some insect-borne illness or starved to death. They were the weaklings.The strong survived because they had on all the appropriate gear from REI.

More and more I’m seeing other families using their feet to either walk or pedal their bicycles to their destinations. Whether it’s the grocery store, pharmacy or movie mart, it’s becoming common to see bike helmets and backpacks in the hands of shoppers.

This makes me proud, and fortunate to live in a suburb with sidewalks and a downtown. I hope this makes up for the shame I have each time I get behind the wheel of my SUV. And with all the gas money I’m saving, maybe I’ll be able to buy something more than a Nalgene bottle at REI.

Pause to regroup

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Thank god for moments like these. If I had a photo gallery of everything else going on right now, it might include limitless supplies of cat excrement in all shapes, colors and consistensies, courtesy of a 17-year-old senile pet; various shattered household objects and an array of interesting cuts and contusions on baby girl from uncontrollable urge to climb everything; the growing parade of carpenter ants marching across my living room floor; and me, the Mom Zombie, in a silent scream.