A Storm is Rolling Through

Distant thunder serenaded me as I awoke this morning.  It came closer, and the rain started.  Big thunking drops of water, lovely sounds against my roof and skylights.

The little black sleeveless dress and little black sandals laying on my bed need to go back in the closet.  In their place will be a pair of pants and whatever kind of blouse and cardigan I can put together this morning.  A pair of black flats.  bleh.  I had decided a couple of weeks ago that this would be my summer of maxi skirts and dresses.  No pants.  I am so sick of wearing pants.  I have always loved dresses the best.

When I was a drunken housewife in New Mexico, I wore dresses every day.  I would be out in the yard, splitting wood, in my sun dress.  My neighbor once asked me to stop wearing dresses because it somehow inflamed her husband even though I have always dressed modestly.  She explained to me that men see dresses as something they can just lift up and have their way.  Holy crap.  I am sure glad I don’t see the world that way.  Amazing how a comment like that is still with me over 30 years later.  Oh, and I didn’t stop wearing dresses.

I’m thinking that when I write “drunken housewife” it conjures an image of a slovenly woman, with ragged children, in a pig stye house.  That was not the case.  Every morning I carefully applied make up and fixed my hair.  I cleaned the house.  It was the 70s, and we had brown carpet that needed to be vacuumed every single day.  And I had a brand new Electrolux vacuum to do that with.  My kids were dressed as a guilty mom would dress them.  I see the way my son and daughter in law let their kids run around and think “How wonderful it must be to not feel guilty!  Little girl in a cowboy hat, diaper, and pink glitter boots?  Why not?”

I need to be leaving here in less than an hour to catch a bus.  I need to finish something my boss wants before a 9 o’clock meeting.  I can do this.

Yesterday I got to go to the hospital where I worked for so long and go through my old files.  I got to see things that I enjoyed doing.  I got to see the products I labored over.  And frankly, I admired them. I don’t think I ever appreciated the autonomy I had in that job, and the way that allowed me to be creative with my work.  And the way I made serious, serious things be fun for staff.  Oh, how I miss that freedom.  Soon again, soon.

We beseech thee, O Lord, pour thy grace into our hearts, that as we have known the Incarnation of thy Son Jesus Christ by the message of an angel, so by His Cross and Passion we may be brought unto the glory of His Resurrection; through the same Christ our Lord, Amen.  — From The Angelus

This entry was posted in Clothes, Family, History, Weather, Work. Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to A Storm is Rolling Through

  1. quillain says:

    Good morning!

    I’m catching up on your blog after a week of internet-free vacation and as usual it is giving me so much to think about. Not just wishing to change but making a plan and participating … self-care … and confession. My soul is in need of the sacrament of reconciliation. But I keep talking myself into and out of it (“oh, but it would be strange to confess to a priest I don’t know, I should wait until I can go see Father S, but that isn’t convenient right now”) … and back to wishing to change instead of participating in change. Well, I just found out the Catholic church a block away from my job offers Confession on Tuesday mornings. I even put it on my calendar.

    I hope your commute was not too bad and you have a really nice day.

  2. Kelly says:

    Your first three lines are so poetic! I really do love the way you write.

  3. Syd says:

    Not too much longer before freedom is yours again. Freedom to be happy in a job. That’s a good thing.

  4. Chenai says:

    “Men see dresses as something they can just lift up and have their way!” That is the funniest thing I have read all day. Your neighbour sounds like a nutcase.

    It’s funny because in a lot of countries dresses are considered more modest. In Malawi for instance, women could not wear trousers in public until quite recently. And my grandmother would never wear pants because it’s considered indecent.

  5. Pammie says:

    Somehow, I will find a summer dress for myself. It is my mission!
    I miss the 70’s. I was hot. (hee hee)

  6. atomicmomma says:

    You know….I started wearing a few dresses again. As a stay at home mom I end up in sweats and jeans every day and I miss feeling feminine. But I will also add that dresses in the summer are much cooler and more comfortable than pants and shorts.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s