Hold on Beverly, I’m coming

I’m vacuuming.  Or if you’re from Pittsburgh, “running the sweeper.”  How can I be blogging at the same time as vacuuming?  Funny you should ask.  It’s a Roomba.  There have been few “material” things that have brought me as much happiness as my Roomba, or as I like to call her “Beverly”.   From a young age I’ve been a duster, meaning I don’t like dust accumulation.  It must have been the task assigned to me by my mom. I also like cleaning silver. I did that at home, at Jennifer’s house, and at Edson’s when I was babysitting.  My sister, Kerry, is a really good clothes folder.  I am not. I also remember watching her iron clothes and trying to learn that.  I’m okay at that (I think).  Folding clothes I struggle with.  My other siblings have moved away so I don’t really know what their task was that mom gave them that they’ve carried (or not) into adulthood.  Although my brother can fix anything.  He’s one of those kinds of people that you love and hate at the same time.  You know the pains-in-the-ass cause they think they know everything, and as it turns out they do.  Well, he certainly doesn’t know everything, but he can fix things.

You know what I never learned about?  Makeup, hair, or accessorizing. Nothing about fashion.  Ever. I only remember going shopping with my mom one time.  ONE.  I didn’t go to school naked so clearly she must have shopped for us.  I know she made some of my clothes and I remember getting hand me downs from my friends – I loved that.  I also remember mom taking us to get our haircut in the village (we didn’t call it the village then, but we lived in the country so it really was the village to us at the time.) – and here’s an interesting tidbit.  The woman that cut my hair would eventually become Nunni.  (my youngest son’s grandma – which had I married his dad would have made her my mother-in-law.  Maybe I should have just called her my mother-in-law and been done with it, for the sake of the story, and so I didn’t have to explain it). I also remember coming home from one of those haircuts and hating my mother for cutting my bangs so short.  I also remember the look the hairdresser (Nunni) had after cutting those bangs so short.  She knew I would hate them, but she listened to my mom.  I have a very vivid memory of that day and that haircut and fuming in the back of the station wagon on the way home from “the village”.  Isn’t that something? I wonder if somewhere in my psyche I knew I would be the mother of my hairdresser’s grandson. I wonder if she knew it. She was very wise. Maybe the memory is about knowing Nunni more than that haircut.  I think I was 6 years old. I wonder why I cared about that haircut so much.

I also remember getting a hairbrush stuck in my hair – I believe it was a round brush and I must have been trying to curl my hair.  My grandmother, who was visiting, spent hours getting that brush out of my hair.  Some of the hair was cut but I don’t remember it being traumatic for me.  I remember her being very patient.  It’s one of the best memories I have of my grandmother. I think I was 19. Had I had hair lessons maybe I would have known better. But then I wouldn’t have that memory.

My two “hair” memories.  Well, those two and my mom ALWAYS (and I’m not exaggerating) always criticizing my hair.  “What are you going to do with your hair” she’d say.  All my adult life I think she said it.  I remember when she lost her sight I said “well at least you won’t comment on my hair anymore” – we all laughed.  I think she’d like my hair now.  Well maybe not.  Maybe that was our thing.

My makeup memory is from my wedding. On my wedding day, I had Kim help me do my makeup.  I never (or rarely) wore makeup.  I don’t think I even owned any at that point.  My dad asked me, on my wedding day, in my wedding dress, “what’s that on your face” – honestly.  I still feel like I have to apologize when I wear makeup.  Like I’m breaking some rule. Although at some point I wore mascara because I remember those mascara curlers and mascara combs.  I don’t wear mascara very often anymore. I just end up rubbing it off anyway. However, lately, at this age, foundation is becoming my friend.

I’m listening for Beverly.  Sometimes she gets stuck and I have to run and help her. I have her in the bedroom today  I just checked on her.  She was under the dresser. She also goes under the bed.  If I was doing it myself I would never go under the bed – maybe once a year, or when I move. But now just think of all the dust she gets, all year long. Beverly is my best friend.

I wanted to write today and stretch that part of my brain.  That’s something I did do growing up.  I wrote a lot of letters.  I liked writing letters.  I kept diaries too.  I found a dream journal that I kept when I was maybe 10? It doesn’t shed light on anything.  Doesn’t portend that I will be a writer. My dreams weren’t prophetic.  But hey it’s something to look back on.  When I find these “treasures” I try and reconnect with my younger self. I have to be honest.  It doesn’t happen.  I could be reading a diary I picked up off the street.  Although, that said, I do remember some of those dreams.  And I remember Nunni and that hair cut.

I have too much time on my hands. Remember when you’d HAVE to be in the office and when you were done with work you’d make up stuff to do because you’d have to sit there for the rest of the day?  Well now, working at home, if I don’t have something to do I still sit here.  And I still make up stuff to do, like write this blog, and think about diaries, haircuts, makeups and dusting. I wonder what I could think about that would be useful, now that I have Beverly, and have so much more time on my hands.

Although I’ve entertained myself with today’s writing it doesn’t appear that I’m going to start channeling ancient Egyptian healing methods to share so I might as well wrap this up. I guess I’ll go dust the tops of furniture and keep Beverly company.  Maybe I’ll strike up a conversation with her and see what she has to say.  Typically it’s just a series of beeps. I’ll keep you posted if she ever responds with anything else.

xoxxo