Dressing like a grownup

Those boots people. Look at them. Love them.

Often, a woman is not satisfied with how she looks unless she is calm within herself. This will be my challenge as I go about growing up.

My look, right now, is best described as stylish, thrift-store chic Mom. That is only on weekends and at night. During my day, as I go about tending to those living in the ghetto, well, I wear a lot of Goodwill clothes. My patients are often heavy, heavy smokers. My clothes get all funked up. So, I wear clothes that are clean and such. But they are Goodwill quality.

I am about to transition from the home health care to a real clinic. I will have my own office (squeak with delight!) And while those that walk through my office door may be disheveled, I feel it is my duty to look put together and attractive. Wearing just a touch of make-up.

After all, if you are in my office, you are most likely not feeling well. Not feeling well in the head. That carries it's own special kind of scary. Like being on a plane that is experiencing turbulence. You look to the stewardess to see if she is freaking out. But she is not, she is there, all put together, hair untosselled.

This is also why I am going to be starting a boot camp. I have lost 35 lbs but I am a weakling. I plan to building girly guns to help lift my patients up. And as I advise them about their self care, I want them to see I walk the walk.

There are a few barriers here. I don't shop well. Especially for pants. No woman likes shopping for pants. If you are a man, you only have to know two numbers for this task. Even if you land on Mars, you can still walk into a store blindfolded, and tell the salesgirl those two numbers and viola! Pants that fit.

For women it goes like this (to the salesgirl on Mars): Ahem, I am Mrs. Hall and in the Juniors section I am a size 9-11, Missess section, 4-6.

Go ahead, ask any woman what her jean size is. If she doesn't give you two sets of ranges then she is lying. Wait, don't ever ask a woman what her jeans size is. Bad idea.

OK THEN, MOVING ON.

Another barrier is that I am profoundly cheap. Hence the mountains of crappy, dollar store clothes that don't fit right. This is not the grown up way of shopping.

Thus, tonight I shopped for an hour and half. Tried on 50 some pairs of pants to find 2 that fit correctly. But that is not all. For the last year or so I have been slowly acquiring dresses.

O MY DEAR LORD IN HEAVEN!

At my new job, I get to wear dresses every day. That fact alone has made the student loans more palpable.

And I must say. I was kind of shocked while trying on those pants. I don't actually have full length mirrors at my house. So, I am still very surprised at my new, fit body. And I must say, I do look smoking in my new pants. But, in a very grown up way.

The odd never ends

A few odds and ends today.

1. Potter's ground will return all shiny and new Nov 3rd.

2. I have debuted a new name, Holly Hall. In part for the Holly post, in part because it is a bouncy name. A lite name. I am striving to be light. And it sounds good with Hall. And Gypsy clinched the decision with her comments in the Holly post.

I have done the requisite "Holly Hall" google vanity search for this name. Here are a few gems.

Holly Hall is the owner of this fine bull. She is selling the semen at a fantastic price.

These fine kids go to Holly Hall school. Note the enthusiasm for their award. Note the goalie who is having none of it.

Holly Hall the historical building.

and

The Holly Hall Band
http://myspace.com/thehollyhallband

Their music is earnest.

3. I will be starting two new threads on this blog. I will be starting a new exercise program, one of those 90 day boot camps. I shall write about it with all that I can. Should be fun.

The other thread will be about my parents. I will begin to cohabitate with them as I build a new life for the Tribe Called Hall four hours away from here. That's right, I will be moving back in with my parents. At age 32 no less. Moving into their basement no less. Well, it will only be a few months.

I think I will have to purchase a bong or somesuch.

Actually, that maybe a good idea what with the tension that is sure to ensue. I could use some chilling out.

Wait, I am randomly drug tested now for my new job.

Alas, the my opportunity for a love affair with Mary Jane has passed.

See ya'll later,

Holly

Artist of high quality: NotKeith

Illustration by NotKeith (c) 2008


In my meanderings around the bloggerhood, I noticed Not Keith's blog. Being one that enjoys art, I followed it for a while.



It keeps getting better and better.


Click on the sentence above for his personal site.



And now, he is done a drawing for me. That is what you see above this text. Click to make it bigger. Go ahead, I'll wait.



He drew it in response to this post I wrote.



And at the end of this exchange I am truly humbled to be part of a process much greater than NotKeith or Mrs. Hall. There is an exchange of artistic energies that happens each day, when bloggers spur each other on. I will be forever thankful for this gift.



Thank you NotKeith, a thousand thank yous.

What love is eight years later

Today is our wedding anniversary.

Eight years ago, I married the best man walking.

I could thank him for a thousand things, but I'll pick the top five.


To my Husband, Mr. Hall

1. Thank you for leaning in whenever I talk.

2. Thank you for helping calm my crazy woman, ADD, nervous Wife and Mom energies.

3. Thank you for what you know what. And let me thank you again for that ;)

4. Thank you for supporting me without question and helping make my dreams come true.

5. And above all, thank you for loving me like you do, for making me your Wife and knocking me up and giving me these beautiful babies.

I love you so much. Happy Anniversary Love!

Here's our song...I can't help but cry when I listen to it. Gets me every time.

Job update!

Remember this post (click here)

Well, on the way home, they called and offered me the job.

And yes, oh yes, I said yes.

NOW, my task this weekend:

Driving The Tribe Called Hall four hours away, looking at apartments, day cares and schools. We are moving for my new job within the month. This weekend is all about getting the lay of the land before we move.

And we will be staying with my parents.

Lord help us all.

Have a good weekend.

What are ya'll up to this weekend?

NOO! SAY IT AIN'T SO HOLLY!!!

Holly and Hugh Hefner have broken up.

So it has come to this. This woman over there, Miss Holly Madison, is not getting her man. Not getting the Princess Wedding at the Disney Castle. And not birthin' no baby bunnies.

It is upsetting. I was so rooting for this doll of a woman. Read this post for why.

It is very, very upsetting. I liked Holly. Girl's Next Door was the last cable show I watched before my cable disappeared. I watched it and discussed the girls at some length with Mr. Hall, started to think about buying their booble head dolls and their perfume . . . . maybe that is why Mr. Hall took the cable away.

This is what this is really about, this fascination with Miss Holly. It all comes down to Mr. Hall.

Ya see, when I was in nursing school, the man who would be my husband moved to the tiny, oh so tiny town I lived in. It consisted of one, highly ranked college and a redneck bar on every corner. He said to me then, and says to me now, "Babe, if you ever wonder if I love you, remember where I moved for you."

He was passive aggressive against the town. He wouldn't learn his way around the town. Although, that was a ruse, I mean, it only had like three main streets. He wouldn't get a job. He basically just studied his microsoft manuals and took care of me. Another thing he wouldn't do is ask me to marry him.

We had discussed marriage. We decided to marry. We wanted three kids. I had gone to http://www.adiamondisforever.com/ , designed a ring and emailed it to him. But he wanted to make sure it was right. "Babe, I will only do this once."

So there he was, no job, no asking him to marry me. The family was really great about it. Well, not really. But if it was my daughter I don't think I could have held my tongue. I don't think I ever told them he paid for the rent and for groceries. He was technically supporting me. But, even though he was this and crazy monkey love, there was no ring.

And the day before the day before I graduated I sort of had a meltdown. It was in the month of May, about two years into the relationship. It had become unbearable to me, just living with him. We loved each other so much. I wanted to be Mrs. Hall. Our future was stalled. Unable to start. I remember weeping and sobbing. Choking out the words, "You have to decide, either ask me by the end of the summer or that's it. I want to start our life."

The next night, the night before I graduated, we went out to dinner. He asked, "Where is a nice resturant around here?" (Again, he refused to learn the town.) I drove to the Olive Garden but he kind of freaked out when we got there. "Babe, no, no, this is not a nice resturant!" We drove about an hour out of town. This place was so fancy, I had never been there.

During the dinner he handed me a letter. It was my proposal in three typed paragraphs. The last line was, "Will you be my wife?"

You could have picked my up off the floor. Here is the ring.

He designed it himself. In fact, for the previous four months, he had been designing the ring, choosing the diamonds and working with the jeweler on every detail. Did I tell you he was an engineer? He was crafty, that man of mine. Four months of going to a jewelery store, working every detail to his satisfaction. I had no idea. Clueless was I. And then I found out I was actually with him when he bought the ring. He is lucky he has a such a distractable wife.

In the end, I feel for Holly. Even though I really believe she loved Hef, it would have been a bad idea to marry him and have babies. In this crazy mess, I belief Hef was the voice of reason.

Hef says, "She'd like to be married and have children, but it's not in the cards here for me. There has to be some reality there."





Le sigh





At least she'll have the photos...




WAIT A MINUTE... She is blonde, has a very nice boobin' and my GOD! She is only four years younger than me. And isn't Hef like 82?

Ok, that's it!

Go forth Dear Holly, you'll be just fine.

Holly, hmm, that's a good name no?

Picking out a name for Mrs. Hall: part one

Mrs. Hall (that's me) is picking out a first name in the next week or so.

As usual, I am taking some time and considerable thought over the matter.

So far, suggestions have included Xena, Delphi and a whole list of Johnny Cash related names from my twin blogger Gypsy girl. O-if anyone has any other suggestions, please put them in the comments.

Anywho-Gypsy girl is a separate girl from me, but we share a lot of same sensibilities. Her blog is pretty awesome. Check it out.

As I examine the names she brought forth, one stuck out: Delia.

It is from the song posted below.

Be forewarned, this is not a gentle song by any means. But, this song is represents a sliver inside the giant Sequoya tree of Mr. Cash's music. I do like the song. It is not a personal anthem by any means. But, I think of it now and again.

Let's listen and watch. And if it says anything to you, good, bad or ugly, speak up.