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21 more things = 42

The last post was the 21 things I KNOW at 42. At the end I said I'd consider writing 21 more things to make it 42 in total & then ...


Shoe Personality of the Week: 3/25/2012

If you've ever taken the time to read my profile, I'm a closeted rock star. There's a flamboyant femme fatale that lives inside of me. The sensible side of me was either nurtured better or craftily created by my mother to ensure my longevity. I'm not sure which; I do know that my pragmatism usually wins, even as a woman who is ruled by her emotions.

Friday after a most absurdly veiled day at work, I went to a little boutique I like to see what's poppin for the season. It was there that the bold woman whose tag line is "Wild Women Wear Red" was able to shed the costume of the down-to-earth woman who usually rules the roost. These two fight for dominance every few months or so. I grow bored of the very banal existence of responsible woman and start itching for adventure. Shy of putting things in orifices in which they do not naturally belong & ingesting mind altering substances--oh, & jumping out of planes--I'm openminded. This inner battle typically dominates the summer months; my time for renewal.

As things in certain aspects of my Life have gotten to be rather...tight...the Wild Woman has been plotting her escape, almost to come & rescue the calmer side of me from herself. The softer side of me has been attempting some turn the other cheek-isms while sanguine side is all on some "knuck if you buck" steez. In my mother's infinite wisdom, if she ever did see the fire in my eye, she knew it would be best to quell it for the good of most of us. Simply put--folks ain't catchin smack downs on the regular because mother knew best. I wish she just figured out how to direct it so that I could have developed the fierce artist that resides inside.


As I research prices for hang gliding & flight lessons for the summer, putting hot air balloon festivals on my calendar, & figuring out where my next passport stamp will come from, I know that there are several seemingly impetuous moves waiting to be made that require far loss thought--hence the word impetuous. As I was set to make an appointment to do the next drastic thing to my wig--where I usually start--I realized that there are changes in my Life that require me to hold fast for a minute. & you know what? I resent the shit out of that. I appreciate newness & respect change, but I hate when I have to temper my actions in anticipation of them. So, the invitation of crimson to my daily (at least until the next whim) will have to wait. Which leads me back to the boutique. My inner rock star was trying on flamboyant additions to the wardrobe & was given pause yet again to when & where I'd strut such conversation pieces. The Beau, far more dandy in his approach to fashion, would have quite a time trying to make heads or tails of this side of me for those we'd encounter. The fight to be wholly me would have me buy the pieces, which I did. & more than likely they'll wind up in my closet next to the other conversation pieces, waiting for the closeted rock star to step not 1 but both feet out of the closet & take the wheel for a while. When that happens...it's over. & if you weren't already along for the ride, I probably won't have time or interest to stop for new passengers because I'll be too busy living without fear or concern. Damn, I look forward to my 40's!!

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