Ed. Note: When my great friend D. A. is in this space with her brilliant writing and philosophical point of view, she helps us see life from a different, often gentler angle (more rounded as the French would say). If you want more of her intelligent musings — and who wouldn’t (?) — please visit her HERE.
That dreadful date that led me to replace my eyeglasses because the gentleman I was dining with was, well… less than kind in some of his remarks about my frames?
(Imagine a first encounter, and a lunch companion commenting on the fact that my spectacles set on the table were out-of-date and worn. That man was no gentleman!)
The 60-something woman I met a few hours later, as I was feeling dejected and forlorn, but nonetheless trying on glasses?
She was French. She was helpful. She was chatty. And she smiled as I bemoaned en français – “I’m still feisty and flirty, but at fifty-something, there are no good men!”
Wouldn’t you bemoan that state of affairs, too, after 10 years of spotty post-divorce dating? It’s a tricky balance with children, often relying on online services, and oh-so many disappointments to chalk up as lessons.
After a lively exchange with the energetic femme d’un certain âge (and the most fun trying on purple frames but deciding on rouge), she said… “I have a younger brother. Divorced. Older than you but younger than I am. Can I give him your number?”
What the heck, I thought. “Sure,” I said.
18 months later, we’re still together. And happy.
My professional web site with a current resume? It went up a few months back, after many obstacles and, I confess, with some reluctance. I sacrificed the freedom of semi-anonymity by tying it to my Daily Plate of Crazy. I mention reluctance because there is a measure of privacy in keeping one’s professional life and one’s more open, dreaming, and reflective “writing life” separate.
But I sensed there would be opportunity in some bridge between my two worlds. So I let down the veil, and literally days later, an opportunity arrived on the scene that required social media and blogging.
I would call it – serendipity.
My packing dramas a few weeks back?
All those clothes? Red and blue? Purple and orange?
Though I’ve been flirting madly with the color orange, I eliminated the pumpkin skirt. I nixed its violet cohort. I set aside the teal Michael Kors heels. (I kept the others and sheepishly admit before I was done I added a few.)
But I did go to the conference! Amazing! (It’s been a dozen years since I’ve done anything like that – brave for me in a way – and instructive as well as fun.)
Still, I felt silly taking eight… yes eight pairs of pumps, boots, slides, and sandals. I simply couldn’t decide, and while I narrowed the clothing selection to a modest few pieces in black, gray, and red – the colors of my site – I did the same with the footwear but still ended up with eight choices.
At the conference, unknown to me, the first night’s event was a costume party. We were supposed to attend as a superhero or a superpower. What on earth would I do?
I donned my red skirt and red glasses. (Both made me feel more powerful.) A nice little black top and jacket went on next. Then black striped tights and black boots.
My key to “successful aging” as the experts now call it? What perks me up and hikes me up –chaussures!
I implored the receptionist at the hotel desk to search for ribbon and scissors which she found, and I took a few minutes to string my sexy slingbacks, precocious peep toes, and my stacked stilettos – twisting and tying and transforming le tout – into belts and necklaces. Soon they were all dangling around my waist and neck as I was adorned with shoes.
My superpower? Isn’t it obvious? Footwear! And the fact that I had all those options to choose from?
Any delicious serendipitous happenings in your world? Aren’t they wondrous when they occur?