tollipop

makeover

Dear reader, it's no good. I'm not going to get to that whimsical post about wardrobes and makeovers, as promised. Even though I did tag around with my glamorous girls over the Christmas break and purchase some daring pots of lipstick and rouge, I can tell I'm not going to use them.  Alas, I know myself too well.  And I'm not going to find the time to update my wardrobe to any noteworthy degree, so I won't bother telling you about that, either.  

That's what imaginations are for, dear reader.  You really would not believe how put-together I appear in my head--part Merchant Ivory heroine, part wild bohemian, part perfectly suited to whatever the current situation demands.  

In this case, the current situation demands a tad more professionalism than I've mustered in the past twenty years.  It demands I wear items of clothing whose names alone can make me cringe: pants, blouses.  Shudder.  

I'm facing a busy semester of school as well as other sobering realities of life, and I'm afraid it may be awhile before I get back to this place.  It exists like some forgotten forest in my mind, a secret corner in which to retire with my thoughts or look over an exquisite array of words, stringing them together for my whim and pleasure.   Sometimes I find myself in the company of your comments and it truly feels like a friend has come to visit.   I hope that's what Tollipop is for you--a place to escape (or make peace with) your sobering realties--somewhere that engages your imagination and allows you to be as you see yourself, a secret corner in which to enjoy your solitude, or perhaps a conversation with strings of words that whisper and glisten in the sun.  

xo, new year

Dear reader, the house is rather quiet today.  Jonny got on his flight this morning, Roger is at work, and the girls have returned to school.  Sophie and Jakob are with us until the weekend (!), but at the moment they're fast asleep. I went for an early walk with Winnie, and while she remains nearby it's all she can do to keep her eyes propped at a bare squint.

The past few weeks have been filled with fun and family, rest and relaxation. I've sat back and marveled at it all--how we are "suddenly" at this stage of life with growing-up children and conspicuous change, and how quiet I sometimes feel as I watch it unfold.  I wish I could untangle my thoughts and make sense of these things.  It doesn't always seem possible to be such a seasoned adult, to occupy this seat at the table.  In some ways I feel like an ancient soul and yet...still not sure if I'm old enough to be doing what I'm doing.  

A cold bit of comfort I've picked up over the years: life doesn't seem unduly concerned about whether I feel old enough to handle what comes my way so perhaps I shouldn't be, either.

Moving on to the new year, then: a dubious goal I have for this blog is to try and write about lighter things.  I honestly wonder if I can do it.  Every time I come here, and without the slightest intention of doing so, I manage to snuff the fun out of the party by dwelling on the most sobering topics known to mankind. I do it in real life, too, at all the right moments: post office lines, dentist appointments, meeting people for the first time.  It's just who I am, dear reader, it's part of my cachet.

My school semester will be starting soon and with it a counseling practicum...and it recently occurred to me (not for the first time, mind you) I possess the wardrobe equivalent of an unkempt teenager masquerading as the school librarian.  So even though I KNOW there are weightier concerns in the universe, I may pause from these matters to consider my ongoing lack of sophistication (made even more apparent these days by the leggy girls who stalk around my house with their lipstick pouts and inadvertent ways of reminding me why I never got asked to prom), and the need to remedy the situation by trying to look like someone people might actually consider consulting for help as opposed to offering it.  

If I were a betting woman, I'd lay odds my next post hammers down upon the meaning of life rather than what one might wear besides ill-fitting t-shirts and jeans...but you never know.  

I might surprise us both.