A couple months ago, I moved in with my new roommate Aimee and her dog Darla.
This is Darla:
I love living with these girls. Having my own place was awesome too, but it got lonely sometimes. It’s wonderful to come home to a positive, enthusiastic roommate and a dog who thinks I’m a superstar.
My friend Holly refers to Darla as my stepdog. I know what she means, though it’s definitely a slacker version of being a stepparent. I have all the benefits of having a pet, while Aimee handles all the major responsibilities. (Though I have been helping out with taking Darla for walks sometimes.)
This all made me think about potentially becoming someone’s stepmom someday. I’m probably not going to ever get pregnant, but I could fall in love with a guy who has kids from a previous relationship. In fact, a lot of the single men in my age group (30s and 40s) are divorced and have anywhere from one to (yikes) four kids.
The more I think about that idea, the more I like it. I’d make a great stepmother–though I know it must be extremely complicated and challenging in ways I can’t even conceive of.
For now, though, my stepdog is more than enough to keep me fulfilled.
Image courtesy of Jim Clark via Creative Commons on Flickr.
You know how, when you’re using a GPS to get step-by-step driving directions, and you mess up and go off route, it says in a really snotty tone, “Recalculating” or “Rerouting”?
I always used to hate this snideness. It felt like the GPS, in its robotic soul, knew more than I did, and was flaunting that fact. “You’re not even smart enough to follow directions,” was the clear implication.
But lately, I’ve come to see “Rerouting” as a useful mantra. When my life takes an unexpected detour, when there’s new construction keeping me from my goal, or when I mess up badly–I try to process what happened, and then tell myself, “Recalculating.”
The beauty of “rerouting”/“recalculating” is that it leaves the past behind cleanly. The GPS doesn’t obsess about the route that was. It doesn’t brood about how dumb it was (or I was) to miss that crucial exit.
It starts over, from where it’s at. Remaps everything. And goes from there.
GPS, you are my Zen master!
Image courtesy of rRradionica on Flickr, via Creative Commons.
I find clothes shopping traumatic and tedious. So I just signed up for Stitch Fix, a magical clothing delivery service.
Here’s how it works. You fill out a survey about your clothing sizes and preferences, and they send you a box of five items: a mixture of clothes and accessories. You keep what you want and send back the rest. No charge for shipping or returns.
I got my first box today and had great luck. Of the five items they sent, I kept this blouse:
And a pair of skinny jeans. I love all three!
Apparently as you give feedback to your stylist after each order, they are able to fine-tune what they send you so your boxes get more and more awesome.
Highly recommend checking out Stitch Fix! They aren’t paying me to plug them here, but if you sign up and use this code, I’ll get some store credit with them: http://stitchfix.com/referral/4140581
Also, Molly has done some wonderful blogging about her Stitch Fix obsession and has adorable photos of herself and all her Stitch Fix gear. Makes me almost enjoy buying clothes…