George Clooney and Mr P

Lately, I’ve noticed a change in Mr Practical. Reading material is now being held at arm’s length but according to him, that’s not an issue, because if things are held at arm’s length, he can see them just fine. (That’s not a solution, Pumpkin - it’s denial!)

Anyway, last week on his birthday he randomly announced he was going to get his eyes checked. I congratulated him on coming to his senses and before going to our favourite Greek restaurant for a sumptuous lunch, we called in to the optometrist to make an appointment.
“When did you last have your eyes checked,” asked the mature-aged woman behind the counter.
“Ooh,” said Mr P, straining to think.
“Fourteen years ago,” I chirped. I remembered because it was just before our teen was born.
The woman raised her eyebrows and inhaled through her nostrils. I was hoping she’d unload on him and give him a quick lecture or at least make a snide comment underlining how slack that was, but instead a smile emerged and she added, “I’ll book you in for the works.” Argh, she was siding with him!

The appointment was made but instead of us heading for the door, Mr P got enthusiastic about frames and veered off to the Mens section. This man has never worn glasses. He’s big and tough with a menacing permanent frown crease set between his feathery eyebrows. He owns a t-shirt that says, WARNING: CONTAINS ATTITUDE. What he’s not, is a book worm. His reading material of choice is a trucking magazine. I’ve even found volumes of magazines containing truck and machinery for sale. We’re talking page after black and white page of classifieds. It’s any wonder we don’t have a vintage plough on our front lawn! So just the thought of Mr P wearing glasses makes my head tilt.

A Few Options

The first pair were thick, black coke-bottle rimmed frames. I turned around and just one look, made me want to smack them off his face. “No!” I said, giving him that look I give to the children sometimes when they’re contemplating over-stepping the mark. I knew he was toying with me.

The second pair were red and black striped. I shook my head. “You’re not a male hairdresser or a couture fashion designer. There’s no way you could carry that off.”

The third pair glowed green on the inside which illuminated his face. “Great if you go clubbing but again, I don’t think you can make that work for you. I can only imagine what comments the men at the station would make if you rocked up in those.” Rimless options didn’t look any good either.

Then he slipped on a pair of brushed metallic Ralph Lauren frames. “I’m thinking architect,” I said, casting a glance out the door to the other side of the mall at the red SALE signs swinging in the air conditioned breeze, over at the ladies fashion store. It was hypnotic.

He studied his new look in the mirror like a model (too weird) and then he pouted. That was too much. I knew he was just joking but the greying hair and now glasses was making me feel old-er.
Times Were Changing
We’ve been together since I was in high school and the years have flown by so fast. I’ve always thought of ageing as something people who were older than us did, but not us. We were somehow exempt. This was fast becoming a sour dose of reality.

The appointment was booked for two days time and the plan was, that I would meet him towards the end of the appointment, we’d choose a frame together and then have lunch. However, I got a text message to say it was all done and he’d brought sushi home for lunch. Home? What happened to the plan? What about my consent... I mean, opinion?

This is the man who has been known to wear slide on leather sandals with thick blue work socks and think it’s funny that I get upset about it. He cannot be trusted to choose something as visible and important as reading glass frames because as much as I love him - the man has no sense of style!

Consequently, I’ve learnt to pick my battles and negotiate. To avoid further serious ‘discussions’ on the topic, he now has a designated group of t-shirts/shorts/jeans combos that he can wear and I’m not allowed to comment. If he steps outside those parameters he’s fair game because when ‘practical’ is taken to the extreme it can be... well, a little unpleasant to the eye ie. Ugly. There I’ve said it.

The George Clooney Bit

Obviously sensing my reluctance to accept the visible signs of his changing appearance, this morning Mr P tried to help me adjust (and God bless him for trying, I say.) I opened my eyes and we lay there, face to face in bed. “Do you find George Clooney attractive?”he blurted. That was random.
I was barely awake. “What?”
“George Clooney. Do you think he’s attractive?”
“Um, yeah, I guess. I don’t swoon but...”
“I saw a picture of him the other day and I thought, “He’s a good looking bloke!”
“Your point?” Where was this going? I reached for my tea.
“He’s good looking and he’s really grey now...”
“He’s also a decade older than you..!
Mr P wouldn’t accept it. He was sure they were the same age.
“Wait... are you comparing yourself to George Clooney?”
“Yeeeah,” he admitted, breaking into a laugh. I joined in and almost tipped my tea in the bed. Nice try. He really thought he was on to something.

A Waiting Game

So, as I wait to see which frames he’s chosen, my uneasiness gently simmers. Really, it’s not about which frame he's chosen, I realize that. It’s the actual change I’m finding confronting. As his hair has become more grey and now the glasses, it’s a stark reminder that time is passing quickly. We’re still young but the lines of this playing field have gradually been moving but I’ve only really just noticed.

If anything, it’s an urgent reminder to stay connected to those we love, accept each other as we change and to support and love them no matter what. Because, while we are seeing the changes, they are living them.

As for us, Mr Practical aka The Silver Fox (as our teen calls him) and his fabulous, young-looking wife (ahem...that would be me) will still be seen stepping out on the town, cuddling up at the movies and laughing our way through the rest of our lives together. I just hope we’re doing it while he’s wearing Ralph Lauren architect-style frames not the glow-in-the-dark, boom-boom-shake-the-room ones. Either way, his love still holds my heart and that’s all the reassurance I need.

©2010 Philippa Vette

Rumours of Chocolate

It was bedtime and the word had got around that there was chocolate in the house. Chocolate had been banned for a while after several weeks of birthday cakes, party treats and Easter, so when a person who shall remain nameless, brought the groceries home and there was a delicious slab of sinfully indulgent dark chocolate amongst the wholemeal tortillas and rice crackers, the atmosphere amped up to just below a frenzy! I however, was calm.

Part of what I do, is motivate and support women in good decision-making and healthy lifestyle choices so when the choc-o-meter skyrocketed in our household, I knew it was time to rein it in before parts of me could not be reined in anymore!

Plan to Change

So, armed with my Big Salad and my food and exercise plan for the week, I was well on the way to not only staying on track but implementing healthy habits for the long term. Therefore, when the word, 'chocolate' was shouted around the house on the night in question, I was ready for it. Did I calmly say, "No thank you, I'm not eating any," like a 'normal' person? Unlikely. Instead I yelled, "Noooo. Get that stuff outta here!"

The two older children bolted into the room to see what atrocity had just occurred, at precisely the same time as I hurled the offensive object towards the door. For the record, no one was hurt but my actions did leave some bewildered looks on their faces as if to say, "What's your problem? It's only chocolate." But to me, it wasn't just chocolate - it was a distraction from my goal.

Get Some Gumption

The reality is; no one is going to force you to live a happy life. Change is confrontational. Have you noticed when change in coming, there's a prickly kind of feeling on the inside? That's because something is about to be different and we don't know if we're going to like 'different'. Rather than thinking about the negative and unsure things, focus on the positive. Imagine how good it could be. What if the change ends up being one of the highlights of your life?

Make the Right Choice - Not Just an Easy One

It takes a series of good choices to over-write the habit of bad choices but it's entirely possible to overhaul your life and make your end even better than your beginning. After all, life is not a spectator sport - be a participant! Experience the thrill. You be the one others gather around to hear your story.

It'll take every ounce of courage, determination and a good, workable plan, but if its really important to you, you'll find a way to make it happen - if not you'll find an excuse! When your mind is made up and your focus is set, nothing will deter you. Not rainy weather, not a busy schedule, not grisly, unco-operative kids and especially not even rumours of chocolate.

(Revised and re-posted from Oct '09)

copyright 2010 Philippa Vette

NB. My appologies for the line spacing towards the end. Despite numerous attempts, it doesn't seem to want to co-operate! Hope it doesn't distract you either!! PV.

Like a Dream

HISTORY

REALITY - Beautiful Big Mama

As odd as it sounds, sometimes when we've wanted something so badly for so long, a serious case of the jitters can kick in when it starts to become a reality.

The decision had been made some time ago but now we'd put 'legs' on it by meeting with our designer, Lisa. (Sorry Ikea - we were such amateurs we needed someone to hold our hand and babysit us all the way. Still love your kitchens!) She assured me, what we would get would be both functional and would look great.

But even on installation day, I was still unsure because I only ever knew this kitchen one way. For eight years I'd wiped down the 80's inspired, grey benchtops, shuffled plates and dishes into the narrow cupboards and longed for overhead cabinets. What would it be like if that all changed? What if it didn't look any good? This was unfamiliar territory.

No Turning Back

When my husband, Mr Practical (see previous blog: Seduced by Square Footage) ripped out the old kitchen just days before the new one arrived, I got nervous. At that point I knew we'd gone past the point of no return. We didn't even have a sink. Was it awkward? It was like camping without the fun of going somewhere exciting. There were dishes stacked in piles, pots and pans flung into oversized cardboard boxes, absolutely no benchspace to work on and I still haven't located the electric mixer. So, I did what any desperate person would do; I went away for the weekend!

The Transformation

At last, installation day arrived. By lunchtime, the installer had most of the cupboards in place and even with a thick layer of dust over everything and I mean, everything, from all the sawing and drilling, the transformation was well under way. The following day all the new appliances were installed and with one flick of the light switch, downlights beamed soft streams of light onto the benchtops. Sigh. I fell in love!

It was better than I had hoped. I stared for the longest time. My fingers ran along the smooth cupboard edges. I rolled the soft close drawers in and out with glee. I marvelled at the new fan forced oven which was light years ahead of my temperamental old stove and pure joy zipped up my spine. I even got up in the middle of the night just to check to see if it was real and not one of those nasty dreams that seem real, but when you wake up, reality bites.

Revelation

Standing in the new kitchen now, it's like a dream, but better because it really happened. Even the memory of the old kitchen has faded becasue it's been superseeded by something far better. But many times when I couldn't see how it was going to turn out, I felt like pulling the plug. And so it is with change. It can get messy and hard right before the breakthrough. When you swing back and forth wondering if you're doing the right thing after already giving the matter thoughtful consideration and arriving at the best decision, it's a sign that you're so close to something new and wonderful. That's the time to chill and trust and just keep moving forward. Even if you feel like freaking out - don't.

The new kitchen is a beautiful place but it's not the hub of our home, (see previous blog: 'I'm Dreaming of a White Kitchen') as I originally thought. The true hub of our home is the people - my family. Another insight.

So, when you're not sure how to get to your destination, enlist the help of someone who does know ... and have a little faith it will somehow take shape and you will arrive safely. Otherwise you'll always wonder what might have been.

copyright 2010 Philippa Vette