My kinda fitting room

Confession: I hate fitting rooms.

hate like love

You would think that any business owner with a scrap of intuition could work this simple math:

Any decent woman

(+) one dog-ugly room

(-) any homey touches whatsoever

(+) glaring fluorescent lights

(+) the merciless babble of the woman in the next stall on her cell phone

(does not equal) a sale.

I mean dim the lights for Pete’s sake. Turn on some gentle music and slap something pretty on the wall. Make her feel like a woman, not a concentration camp victim shut in a cube with the gas about to start, alright?

Last week I found a gem of a room, in a Camp Hill consignment shop called Hello Gorgeous.

It actually had its own light fixture. How shocking.

And low music. I’ve never danced in a fitting room before but I couldn’t help myself.

And playing cards to stick on your door telling how many items you’d taken in.

And an adorable sign in red brush script on the mirror.

you look beautiful

I can forgive a store a lot for a dressing room like that. I can forgive overpriced sweaters, and low ugly shoes tagged to the ridiculous tune of two hundred forty-seven dollars a pair.

They say it used to be cuter yet. It used to have an ottoman and a rug. And then one day they went in to vacuum and found a collection of price tags tucked under the furniture.

[So that’s why fitting rooms are so bare…]

I don’t care about cuter yet.

That’s my kinda fitting room.

*****

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Giftings and girl things

Confession: Every day of my life, I benefit from the gifts of others.

In the past week, Kelly and I have been blessed with girl-gifts above measure.

  •  Two Sundays ago my friend Amy (my business-woman, mother-of-five, immaculate-style friend Amy) turned to me just before Sunday school with a look of illumination on her face. “I’m going to Lancaster this week!” she said. “Do you need any clothes for Kelly?” The result was this:

… five adorable outfits she carefully chose from the secondhand stores she visited. And she only charged me half of the price she paid.

You can tell what Kelly thought of them.

 

 

 

 

  • This week my friend Carla (my soon-to-be-mother-of-three, radiant, vibrant friend Carla) met me unexpectedly in Aldi. Joy sparked between us, laughing and calling and shoving our carts down the aisles fast so we could catch up with each other. She had a package for me, something she had made and intended to drop off at my house after her shopping. May I open it now?

I found a fantastic apron set—full-sized for me and half-sized for Kelly, handmade to match my new kitchen.

I don’t know if Carla meant it for a Mother’s Day gift or not; right now it seems like the most perfect one I’ve ever received.

 

 

  •  For weeks my friend Shaunda (my laughing, mother-of-four, spunky-and-placid friend Shaunda) has been giving me little pushes to go visit my sister. “I’ll help babysit your kids,” she said. “I know you want to make it easy for everyone, but I want to do this for you even if it turns out to be hard. I want you to go.” She helped me believe it could happen, and it will. In two days, if the Lord is willing, Kelly and I are bound for Virginia to spend half a week with Jean. Oh Jesus, what a gift!

In this I am also made rich by the cheerful sacrifices of my husband, my sons, my mom, and my brother & sis-in-law, who are each making it possible for me to go.

Each lady gave what she’s been given. Amy: a sense of beauty and a good head for shopping. Carla: practicality, and the skill to sew something beautiful. Shaunda: super-ability with children, and a strong sense of family. Every day of my life, I am blessed by the gifts of others.

I will not be blogging till after Wedneday. I will be living, rich with the love of others.

I asked this question before: How have you loved and been loved this week?