Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Men-o-pause

It is kind of like puberty, so much potential, physical upheaveal, and emotional challenges. Moon cycles change, body changes too and my mind, it is a confusing mess in there, a hot mess.

The doctors claim it is hormones, the sheets in the morning do not lie. I awake in a puddle of sweat each morning. I am lost, confused and feel, out of my body. Something is wrong. I have gained 30 pounds in 3 months and have quit eating. When I do eat, it is organic whole food.

I’m confused. I want to run away. My children are grown, husband and dog well trained. My businesses run without me. There is a voice in my head whispering, “Teri, it is time, your time.” What the fuck does that mean? Sure I paid my dues, been a dutifully wife, mother (even raised kid that weren’t mine) and friend. I helped and watched in agony as my little sister died too soon. Failed at businesses, finances, and marriages. I won awards, sold screenplays, and did nearly impossible tasks.

However, the slate is clear. All karmic bills paid. All chores done. All promises delivered. It is just me in the mirror, with a beard.

I’m confused. I always know the answer for everyone else; it is so easy, so transparent. Nevertheless, my destiny is a myriad of choices, paths, and obstacles. The biggest one being me. I can do anything, be anyone, but I don’t know what that is.

I need some time in the looking glass, and this time I will take the blue pill.

Thrift Store Heaven

My husband has freakishly good luck at finding nice thinks at garage sales, thrift stores and even on the side of the road. He call those treasures, “come across” and I must pull over violating 15 laws every time we see a sweatshirt on the side of the road. They weird thing is that they almost always fit him. One time he even found a big screen TV that had hopped out of the back of a truck. As we stood there and pondered how to get the behemoth into my trunk, the owners arrived and we helped them load it back in the truck and tie it down.

He decided to direct the Thrift Universe into knowing what he wanted. He went to Patrick James and Calvin Klein and found his perfect size, fit, style, etc. Then he put it out there to the universe and every darn weekend, he finds a new treasure. Custom made Italian suits bought in Paris, Camel hair and Cashmere sports coats, Silk, Wool, all beautiful, hardly worn and for the exorbitant price of $7.99. He has found perfect fitting Burberry jackets for $3.99 and cordovan shoes (that were never worn) for $1.99.

His newest finds are at our local Goodwill. Some man with the same measurements as him must have passed and Goodwill got all his custom-made Italian suits, sport jackets, shoes, and shirts. He spends hours every weekend trying on his magical clothing. They bring new stuff out every week, so the issue was how to mark the one’s he already had tried on.

His brilliant plan to “mark” the jackets he had already tried and rejected is to bring a sack of pennies and put a penny in the pocket of each suit already tried. So if you buy a suit and it has a penny in the pocket, Gary rejected it.

With a jar full of pennies, we set out each weekend. I find my share of items, but nothing like the windfall that has besieged my husband’s closet. People comment on all the money he must be spending for this new wardrobe, he just smiles. After he told me he had enough different outfits to wear a different one every day of a month, I was getting jealous. Why weren’t the Thrift Universe honoring me?

While he was trying on a gorgeous suit at a Catholic School Thrift store, I happened upon a enormous statue that I immediately fell in love with. It was from Africa, carved wood and matched my d├ęcor perfectly. He was tucked back in the manager’s office, hidden in thrift store shame. I asked the clerk about him and if the piece was for sale. She feigned surprise and asked, “Did you see the whole statue?”
“Yes, it is quite beautiful”
“But did you notice he is not a Ken doll, he is anatomically correct?”
“Yes, I saw that and my living room is filled with naked statues, how much?”
“You really want him?”
“Yes, how much?”
“Oh Thank God, I was sure I was going to loose my job if I didn’t get him out of here by Tuesday! If the manager of the store saw him, she would faint. Daryl, get that naked man for this lady and carry him out to her car!”

Yes, she gave it to me! The certificate of Authenticity was on the bottom with the artist name and the original price of $5500.00!

Seems the art Gods are shining on me now and I’ll go look for suits anytime the husbands asks!