Hola. Happy Sunday from Florida. Let's raise our mimosas or mugs and clink a cheers to a bit of connection between work, notices and ads in your inbox. Written with a London accent in my head. Reading with an accent is completely your next best decision.
Were you a late tween that listened to romantic love songs on the radio?
Friday Night Love Songs, with Delilah, was it?
Later, friends and I dressed up while listening to love songs.
Or if you are younger, a love song playlist on your phone?
Two weeks ago, I was browsing tunes on my app and there they were: Love Songs.
It was Valentine's Day.
I pressed play.
And surprisingly, I liked it.
My personal history includes listening to love songs and being sad.
Sad because I didn't have a Someone.
Sad because I didn't feel connected to parents, friends, or my someone.
Sad because I didn't feel connected to myself.
This time, I sang along.
I was surprised and smiled at the love I felt for me.
This last week has been very full.
I was frantic with the final bits of sorting.
I staged all 3400sqft of rooms: garage, closets and top drawers in bathroom cabinets.
You know the buyers peek.
I've masked these four walls and a roof to be the most appealing from many perspectives.
It is rather fun, enhancing spaces with pops of color and intentional placings.
Now that it's dressed up, cleaned, and repaired, I find myself wanting to stay.
Not practical, but I'm wishing it was this well-maintained for the last six years. That I could have enjoyed it.
Which was completely optional.
I did work on feeling joy no matter the circumstances.
A photo-ready home would not have changed my feelings.
I am ready for the big realty sale. It seems to be shaping up to look more like an auction.
Beyond being physically clean and cared for, with fresh haircuts and clean clothes, we do add extra to be attractive to others.
I've talked about primping for others.
No, it was Posture For Others, episode 36.
We primp for Love.
Lady in Red, am I right?
There's a reason it's not: Lady in Leggings.
Or Lady with a Messy Bun.
When I moved from the north to Atlanta several years ago, I was astonished at the lengths women would go to dress themselves for a trip to the grocery store.
(Or that people ironed their sheets, and jeans.)
I was diligent in genuinely inquiring with friends of all ages the purpose of these strange actions.
I was not critical, just very curious.
Youngish women knew what I was referring to, but they didn't always keep with their mother's traditions.
I think there is an age where women stop.
Remember nylons? Stockings. (Shudder.)
Why was that EVER required?
I wore them every Sunday. Tights as little girls, nylons at twelve.
Was it to hide our underwear when we did cartwheels after church?
Nylons protected our virtue.
The first thing to go were the nylons. Then, I wore pants.
Today's Deep Breath: here's a practical juju nugget, a collective Next Best Decision.
One of our (my) family dogs was re-homed a few days ago.
It's not practical to have two dogs on a budget, living in a rental.
Rentals charge a $300-500.00 fee per dog, plus a monthly $25 per dog.
Our family income could afford grooming, food and vet visits.
Sami was only with us for two years, and he is now middle-aged.
He has an entire half life left to enjoy a sweet new owner and get over the shift of leaving our family.
Elli has been with us for eleven years, and has only a few years left in her life.
There wasn't a discussion about who would keep the dogs.
I never brought it up because I knew the answers.
I made the call.
I've been pushing through task after task, resisting the thoughts and feelings of Sami. He is genuinely doing well in his transition.
As am I.
I'd love to have some excellent advice.
How to love yourself with a song.
How to clear clutter or choose a personal style.
How to navigate huge life changes, without bruising.
I don't know how I'm doing it. There's not much time to think.
I just keep stepping. I can see the next ones, but just.
This house will sell fast. We should be sorting offers next Sunday, from our two corners.
Then I prepare to move to a rental I have yet to find.
I hope I keep writing each week. It is helpful.
I hope that someone reads and either jives with how I feel or laughs with me.
I'll do the best I can.
That's the only advice I have.