Life shopping

My childhood best friend Shelly and I used to take the Sears catalog and "call" an item on every page spread.
"Oh! I call the green shimmery dress..."
"Well, I get the leopard print pajamas..."
on and on through the whole book, through lingerie (interesting and educational!) and power tools (I call the riding lawnmower!) and jewelry (where subtle and understated was not in our vocabulary).

Then we'd shut the book and go climb trees and pretend Donny Osmond was our boyfriend. (We were good at sharing him.) The wanting of things didn't get in the way of living our real lives; it was just a game of choosing and figuring out what we liked. We knew we couldn't have everything in there but we knew what we'd choose if we were given a choice of wigs, that's for sure.

* * *

Recently it has come to my attention that I have been treating my forays into blogland like a catalog of regrets and longing, thinking wistfully that I would love to have everyone else's life but my own

{oh! I wish I had...

a newborn baby with sweet eyelashes...

a fabulous closet of shoes...

a big happy brood of six children...

a marathon-running body...

a fixer-upper cottage in France...

a career as an actress on Broadway...

a flair for dressing with just the right knack...

exquisite phototaking talents...

a bestselling novel...

a husband who works from home...

big jolly dinners with extended family who live nearby...

an obsession with cleanliness (or at least a very clean house)...

such a hilarious way of writing about life...

etcetera...}

When I should be treating these views as a fascinating museum of lives and a chance to celebrate differentness and sameness, to say "good for her" and "well done" and "I feel for you."

{Okay, with the secret hope that you have dustbunnies sometimes, too}

I like my life. I do.

It's constructed out of a series of choices and silly luck (both good and bad) and trade-offs.

Yours is too. I like that about all of us.

I'm just relearning that lesson about shutting the book, walking away, and living my own life.

{And cheering you on while you live yours.}

Comments

[ellen]

My brothers and I did the same thing with the Sears Catalog! I loved this post. A good reminder to enjoy my life!

[Jenny]

Cheers to you.
You hit the nail RIGHT on the head. Thanks for a GREAT post.
GO! Annie.

[Dayna]

yes, yes...this internet thing can be very distracting and distorting. i feel the same way about cheering others on in their success while realizing that i have my own wonderful life, too. dustbunnies and days of feeling frumpy, and some bliss here and there--i get them all.:)

[Laurie]

Feeling similar today, so thanks for eloquently expressing it.

Hope this means you're not shutting the book on blogging?

[Christie]

OH, we all have the dustbunnies, my friend. And there are those of us who look with envy at your little life and would like to call dibs on a few things...but are also happy to cheer you on, as well.

Isn't that like life?

[Chiska]

I have to say ditto to what Christie said. Yea you!

[diane]

It would be fun to play life swap for two weeks or so.

I am the head cheerleader for all my friends and my husband too. I can't jump and do toe touches anymore but I can still shake my pom poms.

Go Annie!!

[the wrath of khandrea]

very well-written. i met donny osmond when i was about 6. he asked me not to share him with anyone, so you and shelly are totally out. sorry.

the thing to remember about blogging is that most times, it's best foot forward. you don't always get a real picture. so while you may covet a huband that works from home, you may miss the part where the spousal fighting increases. a newborn baby with sweet eyelashes will keep you up all night, making your own eyelashes look tired and droopy. a marathon-running body may be running to avoid larger problems and issues.

you get the point. not trying to be a glass-half-empty here, but when life shopping, remember only the best products are put up in the storefront window. hit the backroom sometime, and see what's leftover at the end of each season.

[queenieweenie]

what a profound post-it takes talent to enjoy what we DO HAVE...well done girl.

[seven smiles]

Annie, you have a fab life. In my world, yours would be added to that list you constructed.

You have just the perfect knack for well-placed words, and a lovely evaluation of the things that go on around you. Don't ever stop.

xo

[martha corinna]

I've coveted your life a bit. It's a bit inevitable when you have so much beauty and ability.

I am happier when shutting the book a bit and digging into my own life, but sometimes little peaks do inspire. I guess it's about being grateful and living enough of my own life to drown out the moments of screen time that plants seeds of discontentment.

You are so great Annie!

[calibosmom]

I love reading your blog-it puts a smile on my face!

[Bridget]

Very well said Annie. I have coveted your life a bit myself. But you are right. It is fun to learn something different about everyone.

[Jenibelle]

I wish I had...
Annie's desire to be educated.

What a difference that would have made in my life. But instead of crying over chances gone by, I will choose to laugh about the twists and turns of my life. And admire others from afar, like you.

[Nells-Bells]

therese and i did the same thing with the jcpenney catalog.
i love your perspective though. i find myself wishing for what others have...rather than relish in my own wealth of blessings. something i hope i can conquer before the time passes me too quickly and i find that others lives i envied had the same kinds of ups and downs (i.e. not seemingly perfect).