Mary Jane: a love story.

Navy blue party shoes

When I was a little girl, I think I was happiest whenever I had a brand new pair of Mary Jane shoes. Back in the ’60s, little girls didn’t yet wear pants to school. We had clothing for different activities: pants (or slacks, as they were called) or overalls were “play clothes;” then we had our “school dresses,” and finally our flouncier, dressier Sunday and party dresses (these were usually interchangeable).

School dresses varied and ranged from dark plaid jumpers over white blouses (or pleated wool skirts with suspenders for the younger girls), to cotton dresses with full gathered skirts in warmer weather. No matter what sort of dress I wore to school, I was always made to wear plain brown Oxfords or loafers with my school dresses, but some of the girls got to wear their dressy Mary Janes every day of the week.

My own pair of black patent leather Mary Janes were strictly reserved for Sunday school, birthday parties, and other special outings. I remember taking them out of their box during the week and just looking at them, turning them over and over in my small hands, admiring their shininess and sniffing their new-leather aroma. One of my happiest memories is from when I was about 5, when my mother took me shopping for a new pair of Mary Janes. The ones I chose were special, because they had square toes and two thin straps across the instep rather than just one. I remember running around the department store stopping in front of strange ladies, proudly pointing to my new shoes and telling them to look at how pretty they were. The ladies always smiled politely and murmured some compliment before going on their way.

buster-brown34b

I envied the girls at school who got to wear their Mary Janes every day. I was constantly looking at the other girls’ feet, because I found their shoes so fascinating. In the winter, many of the girls (including myself) wore colored tights under their dresses and jumpers, and I liked the contrast of their shiny black Mary Janes with the red, black, white, hunter green or navy blue tights they had on.

Sometimes I’d see other colors or even materials on the shoes. I remember at a birthday party I attended, one of the girls was wearing baby blue patent leather Mary Janes. I couldn’t get over it. One day at Sunday school, another girl was wearing burgundy velvet Mary Janes.  I had to go over there and stroke those velvety shoes.  She gave me a weird look.  I don’t remember the girl’s name or even what she looked like, but I never forgot those shoes.

On my 6th Easter, my mother bought me a pair of white patent leather Mary Janes to wear with my new pink Easter outfit. My dress was a gorgeous pink confection with embroidered roses, a huge white sash, and a layered skirt, and I had a pink matching coat and hat, but all I cared about was the shoes. I couldn’t stop looking at the way they graced my feet. I never got to wear them again though, because they didn’t match anything else I had, and I was always required to be perfectly coordinated for my mother.

As I grew older, I never outgrew my love for Mary Janes. I started attending Catholic school in 5th grade and we had to wear a uniform, but we were allowed to wear shoes of our own choice, as long as they were either black or navy blue and appropriate for school. Many of the girls were beginning to wear heels, so of course I had to have a pair of Mary Janes with heels. I chose a pair of navy blue leather ones with chunky heels that looked very much like these:

Chunky_mary_jane_shoes

Mary Jane shoes have an interesting history. They were named after the comic strip character Buster Brown’s sweetheart Mary Jane, who wore this type of shoe. Later on, the Buster Brown Shoe Company capitalized on the comic strip characters, and their Oxfords became known as Buster Browns and their dressy one-strapped sandals for girls became known as Mary Janes. Prior to World War II, both boys and girls wore Mary Jane shoes (they were usually brown for boys), but after the war, they fell out of favor for boys. There have been a few exceptions, though. John Kennedy Jr. (JFK’s late son) wore them at his father’s funeral, and Princes Harry and William sometimes wore them for special occasions in the 1980s. But in general, the Mary Jane shoe has become associated with femininity and girlhood.

Neueste Aufnahmen des Prinzen Oskar von Preussen im Kreise seiner Familie. Unser Bild zeigt den Prinzen mit seiner Familie im Garten seiner Villa in Potsdam.

Neueste Aufnahmen des Prinzen Oskar von Preussen im Kreise seiner Familie.
Unser Bild zeigt den Prinzen mit seiner Familie im Garten seiner Villa in Potsdam.

The three sons of Prince Oskar of Prussia (ages 10, 8 and 3) wearing Mary Jane shoes, 1925.

Mary Janes have been intermittently popular with adult women too. A low-heeled type was often worn with flapper dresses by women in the 1920s, and a similar style became popular in the late 1960s which were usually worn with mini-skirts. While they never really fell out of fashion, they enjoyed a huge revival in the 1990s. The “Kinderwhore” look popularized by grunge-rock icons like Courtney Love often paired Mary Janes with baby doll dresses and of course, lots of plaid and flannel.

kinderwhore
Ad from the 1990s.

I remember in New York City in the 1980s, vendors sold Chinese slippers on almost every street corner. Chinese slippers were styled exactly like Mary Janes but were constructed of thin canvas (usually black but came in other colors too) and had very thin flat soles. They cost about $5.00 a pair. I always bought at least two pairs, and as soon as they wore out (which didn’t take long), I’d replace them. They could be worn with everything and were probably the most comfortable shoes I ever owned.

A chunky type of Mary Jane is still popular today; these are casual shoes that can be worn with either jeans or skirts. Some are even styled like sneakers and made of similar materials.  Mary Janes for little girls haven’t really changed at all since I was a little girl and remain as popular as ever.  I think these shoes have remained popular because they’re youthful, comfortable, versatile, and classic.

Vroom vroom fund widget.

carfund

There’s a widget now in my sidebar that connects to my GoFundMe.  I’m trying to raise $5,000.

Stream of consciousness blogging.

 

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Credit: Paulinasaurus

You might think you have nothing interesting to say, but that’s a big fat lie you tell yourself.

Ever have those random weird thoughts that just come out of nowhere? Write about them. Even if you think they’re silly or embarrassing or insignificant or would make no sense to anyone else, blog about them anyway. You never know who might be able to relate or might have been thinking the same thing. Sometimes some damned good conversations can get started that way.  At the very least, you might make someone think, and getting people to think is always good.

Sometimes your random thought could take the form of a question. If you’ve always wanted to know why you never see baby squirrels or why socks always disappear in the wash (and wire hangers tend to breed), write it down. You may get some answers.

If you don’t think you have a topic to write about, you do. Start where your mind is at right now, this very second, and go from there.  I don’t care how boring you think your life is. Write about the chair you’re sitting in, or the bed you’re lounging on, what you’re eating (if anything), what time you got up, what your plans for the day are, how unpleasant that flu you have is, what the temperature in the room is like, the view outside your window (even if it’s a dark trash-filled alley), what the wall next to you looks like and what’s on it (include photos of it maybe?), or the people and animals sharing the room with you right now. If Grandpa cracking his pistachios all night in front of the TV is the equivalent of being waterboarded, by all means write about it. If you can’t stand the way your husband mouth-breathes and picks his nose in front of the mirror, write about that too. Things that irritate you always make entertaining posts. Or write about how much you love something. How about compiling a bucket list? Lists of any kind are good, and they’re easy to write too. Everyone loves lists. Listicles are a thing.

Pick any one of the things above or something you came up with on your own and elaborate on it. If you feel like being goofy, be goofy. If you feel like ranting, then go ahead and rant. Blogging gets it all out of your system. Sometimes my best posts came along when I thought I had nothing to say. You never know–you may wind up saying something someone else wants or needs to hear.

What my therapist said that almost made me cry.

swooning

At the end of our last session, he told me he looked forward to our visits. I could tell he meant every word. I asked him why, and he just said, “you make working with you easy.”

I know that doesn’t sound all that impressive, but believe me, it was. I couldn’t speak, and if I had, I think I would have burst into tears. I’m not there yet though.

He saw my reaction and just smiled and thanked me. He always thanks me at the end of each session. I’m not sure for what, but it helps me a lot.
I sensed nothing but warmth and kind regard from him, nothing questionable at all.

I’m not 100% sure what his words referred to, but I have some idea (nothing inappropriate though!), and thinking about it still makes me a little verklempt.

I think my Winter Blues are saying adieu!

snow_bench

I’ve posted before about my SAD (seasonal affective disorder). I also explained that for me, a sufferer of the Fall/Winter type (the most common type), I’m extremely sensitive to changes in daylight.

The Winter Solstice falls around December 21 or 22 every year. That’s the shortest day of the year, but also the last day the days are going to get any shorter. The next day, the sunlight-hours increase every day by increments of about a minute a day, as they march toward the Summer Solstice which falls from June 20 – June 22 every year.

I always noticed a darkening of my overall mood and loss of energy very shortly after the first day of summer, since the days are already becoming shorter even as they grow hotter. My body perceives these changes as early as mid-July!

There’s probably an evolutionary reason for this. Our distant ancestors were nocturnal, tree climbing, shrew like animals who may have needed to hibernate during colder weather to conserve energy and calories, while food was scarce. Many mammals today have a need to hibernate, and this tendency may have been retained in human genes to some extent, causing many of us to feel tired and depressed when they days begin to shorten. How nice if hibernation were an option for some of us humans!

bear_sleeping

Getting back to the topic at hand, my mood is already starting to improve, even though the first day of winter was only about 3 weeks ago (that long already???)
That’s early even for me. My body and spirits don’t usually start reacting to these increases until the end of January at the earliest.

But maybe my improving mood is due to more than just the lengthening days. Since I’ve been in therapy, I’ve been feeling a little bit happier and less anxious overall. For example, I have a serious car issue, but I’m actually not freaking out the way I would have a year or two ago. I’ve also noticed people are responding to me in a more positive way (or maybe nothing has really changed but I’m just perceiving they are perceiving me less negatively than before).

My creativity is increasing, and my motivation to write, and–I dearly hope I don’t sound narcissistic saying this–I think my writing lately has improved immensely and I’m beginning to find my humorous voice too and seeing how funny things can be I never would have found the humor in before.

I still have a long road ahead (my therapist thinks it’s going to take a while) and maybe this is just the honeymoon stage of therapy before the work starts getting really emotionally draining, but it’s a taste of what might be to come and I’ll enjoy this as long as it lasts.

I’m just gonna say it, okay?

dying_happiness

I’d really love to be Freshly Pressed®. I wonder if it’s ever going to happen. I just think being Freshly Pressed would be incredibly cool and do wonders for my low self-esteem. If I ever get Freshly Pressed I think I would just die of happiness.

Kill me now!

 

please

Stories from the broom closet: adventures in housekeeping.

french_maid

I don’t write a whole lot about my job working as a part time housecleaner because of the stigma attached to a job like this. As a college educated person with a very high IQ, who used to make a living as an editor/columnist for a long-defunct medical journal and moonlight writer of book reviews for publications like Publishers Weekly and Library Journal, sometimes it’s hard to reconcile just how low I’ve fallen on the social status ladder. I’ll spare you the details of how that came to be, because it’s not very interesting and has a lot to do with self-sabotage and being trained to be a victim by my abusers (and has a lot to do with the economy and the geographic region I live in as well). I’ve written about all that before anyway.  This isn’t about that.

This isn’t supposed to be a depressing post though. Framed the right way, I actually have a very interesting and even fun job, albeit one that doesn’t pay much and fluctuates depending on time of year.

12 Reasons Why Cleaning Houses for a Living May Be Underrated. 

1. It sure beats sitting in a call center all day getting screamed at for things totally outside your control and where you are required to put up with and “handle” the abuse thrown at you. (I did that too and had enough after 4 years of it)

2. You’re constantly busy, and the scenery is ever-changing, so you never get bored. No interminably long afternoons spent watching a never-moving clock.

3. You’re constantly moving and it’s a great way to keep in shape. I was able to cancel my gym membership.

4. Sometimes you get tips, especially around the holidays. Some of the tips can be good.

5. You sometimes get really nice stuff other people want to get rid of: I’ve taken home small furniture, a crystal vase, books, an antique mirror, original paintings, clothing, leather bags, and shoes, various homemade baked goodies, and a homemade quilt (which got eaten by my dog, well I hope he enjoyed it).

6. I work alone most of the time, and as a socially awkward, introverted person who never could decipher office politics and the kiss-up games most offices require you to play to move ahead, this works well for me.

7. Once you start having your own clients who request you only, you begin to establish a kind of relationship with them. They look forward to seeing you and it feels good that your giving them a clean house (and sometimes providing them with company) makes them happy.

8. I’m not required to work evenings or weekends, and sometimes I’m off as early as 1 or 2 o’clock. Sure you don’t make as much on slow days like that, but it’s nice to be home early, as long as it doesn’t happen too often.

9. Although the novelty of this has worn off, it can be interesting seeing the types of homes people have and the way they have decorated them. Some of the houses are impressive indeed!

10. The work is mentally easy and I can let my mind wander while working. It is physically hard work though, and sometimes at the end of the day, I’m very sore! A hot bath with epsom salts usually helps though.

11. The pets are awesome, and are the best part of the job (even though they shed and make messes). I could write other stories just about the different pets I meet. Maybe I’ll do that sometime.

12.  It’s also a great job for an aspiring writer because you meet so many different kinds of people (they’re not all snobby rich people living in gated communities, though we have those too). You have a front row seat to a lot of family drama and eccentric types and other things sometimes that make you go hmmmm or WTF!   It’s a great opportunity to study and observe human nature and that hones your skills as a writer.  You also learn a lot about people.

Some of the things I hear and see make pretty good stories, so here are  five of them.

The humorist and memoir writer David Sedaris used to work as a housecleaner in New York City, and used some of the things he experienced during that stint as fodder for his uproariously funny essays.

1. The Lonely Lady and the Surprise Birthday Lunch.

tea_party

A well to do older lady living alone, whose husband died last year, seems to want company more than having her house cleaned. Although she talks way too much for my taste, she’s a sweet lady and last year threw me a surprise birthday party just for the two of us! She said she needed an extra hour and I thought, oh no, she’s going to want me to clean out her refrigerator or organize her closet or something (trust me, you do NOT want to see this woman’s closet–she’s almost a hoarder and never throws away anything).

When I arrived she asked me at one point to stop what I was doing and come into the sunroom. It was a beautiful warm sunny day and the table was set beautifully, with flowers and greens everywhere. She had prepared delicious chicken salad with vinaigrette and fresh tomatoes and basil, another tossed salad, sweet ice tea, and an amazing lemon cake with lemon buttercream from an expensive bakery (with NO cream cheese icing, thank God!) To top it off, she presented me with $50 in cash! That was a good day. And even better, she didn’t ask how old I was. I really think the woman is just lonely and felt like having company and I got the honor.

2. Schizo Santa Claus and the Cup of Hair.

30counter-terror
It’s not coffee in that mug, but the words say it all.

There’s another guy, a Vietnam veteran who looks like Santa Claus who probably suffers severe PTSD or even schizophrenia. The man is very strange and his house is a disaster and it stinks too. He always wants to go back to sleep after you clean his bedroom. He collects beautiful, antique chessboards and has them all over his house. He seems to be somewhat of a hoarder too and it’s hard to move around in the tight, cluttered rooms.

The man sheds; his wiry gray hair is all over everything. The first time I went there I thought he must have a pet, maybe a wirehaired terrier, but no, the hair belongs to him.

He keeps a mug of his sheddings on the bathroom vanity. You cannot touch it, you are not allowed to throw it away. The first time I went there I didn’t know so I threw it away and he started to panic. I had to dig through the trash to find the hair and with a pair of plastic gloves, retrieved it to its rightful place in the mug on the bathroom sink. I have no idea why he needs this, and I don’t want to know either. Maybe he’s knitting himself a wig or a sweater. Who knows.

3. Contact High and the Stoner House.

stoners

The other day I went to clean a one-time house (not a regular client). The door was answered by a guy in his early 20s or maybe late teens, who was obviously stoned. He told me his mother was up in Maine having chemotherapy treatments but would be returning the next day. He showed me around the house and told me not to worry about cleaning his room, he would do it himself.

Two of his stoner buddies were there with him, and they all sat in the living room smoking out a bong and watching some anime movie.
Soon he came upstairs and told me he had spoken to his mother on the phone and she told him I had to clean his room after all (I know he had not been on the phone; obviously he decided he didn’t feel like cleaning it).

His room reeked of pot smoke and there were bongs and pipes on almost every surface and little piles of weed.   I got a contact high just from being in there.  Later I overheard a telephone conversation where his mother told him his two friends had to be gone when she arrived home the next day. I guess that was the last time he could party!

I got a $25 tip from him when I was leaving. He said the house looked great. I hope his mom agrees.

4. The Elderly Couple Who Refused to Move Downstairs.

old_couple

At another one-time job, the middle aged son from New Jersey had come to try to talk his elderly parents, one who was wheelchair bound, the other with advanced Alzheimers, into moving into a downstairs bedroom. He wanted to close off the stairs because of the danger of falling, but the father, the ambulatory one with Alzheimer’s, wouldn’t have it. The old man walked around in nothing but a diaper, and his bowed legs looked like toothpicks but he scampered up and down the stairs like a first grader jacked up on Red Bull.  He kept insisting he didn’t mind carrying his wife  (who weighed at least twice what he did!) up the stairs. Yikes!  This feisty codger had to be watched closely!

The son told us that since he was unable to move in with them (because his job and family were back in New Jersey) and they had bought and paid off the house and refused to move or go into a nursing home, that he would have to hire a full-time nurse and cook to take care of them both in their house. His concern and love for his disabled and elderly parents was touching and so was the old couple’s abiding love for each other. They were actually the kind of old people you’d call cute. In fact, I’d call them them freaking adorable.

5. The Malignant Sociopathic Bible Thumping Narcissistic Bitch from Hell.

churchlady_satan

There was one customer that couldn’t keep a regular cleaner, because of what a horrible and mean person she was. In the short time I cleaned her house, I didn’t see one redeeming quality. First of all, the lady was a control freak. She was told on a number of occasions to have the sheets ready when we got there, but she wasn’t having any of that. She’d deliberately wait until we were about to leave before taking he sheets out of the dryer. When called out on this once, she demanded to have the name of the person in the office who said that, even though she had been told again and again to have the sheets ready. Basically she was calling us liars.

She’d keep you in her house as long she could (knowing full well we had other assignments that day),  standing over you watching everything you did and making you do things over and over even when there was no need. Her washer and dryer happened to be in the master bathroom so she’d wait until you had just mopped the floor in there before retrieving the sheets for the beds, leaving her shoe marks all over the mopped floor so you’d have to mop it again. She’d also push into you on purpose on her way to the dryer, and then in a sarcasatic-sweet voice, coo “I am SO sorry!”

One time someone else cleaned her house because I was sick that day.  She said this woman waited until the moment she came in to clean the kitchen and suddenly decided she just had to start rearranging her kitchen cabinets at that moment!

I finally had enough of this nasty character the day she blamed me for her vicious dog growling at me. She had a golden retriever, and usually they are very sweet dogs, but this one was anything but. I was coming up the front porch stairs and the dog was there, not tethered to anything, growling and baring its teeth at me. The woman came out and stared at me with black malevolent reptilian eyes.
“What did you do to my Ginger? She NEVER growls at anyone! You must have done something to upset her.”
That was the last straw. I told the office I would no longer clean this woman’s house. Shortly after that, she canceled service.

Did I forget to mention the woman’s house was filled with Bibles and plaques of Christian sayings and Bible verses and ceramic angels? Oh, and her husband called her “Mom” and seemed terrified of her. Also her grown children never visited. I wonder why!

If you like these stories, there are others. I can post them in a later article, if there’s enough interest.

Too cute to eat.

My daughter and I stopped by Dunkin Donuts this morning. She took this picture of me with my cookie. It’s too cute to eat!

I know I look like crap, but I just woke up and had no makeup on and hadn’t fixed my hair, and just threw on some old clothes.

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Going to pick up my poor dying car today.

A-dead-car-in-the-desert

I’m off to pick up my poor dying car. I’m going to use it as a trade in when I get another car but I don’t think it’s that driveable anymore.

Two of you were kind enough to send a donation, thank you very much! 😀 ❤ If anyone else would like to help with my transportation fund, read this post first for a little background:

Online begging.

I have a savings account with about $150 already in it, as soon as these 2 donations go to my bank account, I’m transfering them to savings–and not touching them!   Whatever I get back as a tax refund is going in there too.  Any further donations either from here or GoFundMe will go into the savings account.     I think I might put the $40 I so I get per month from ads on this blog toward the fund as well.

From time to time, I’ll post updates about my progress toward my $5,000 goal.

Donations can be made via Paypal:

Donate!

I’m also going to be setting up a GoFundMe today.
If you can’t help, that’s fine, just say a prayer that everything works out. You can also help by sharing this post, use the buttons below.  

Thanks again!

 

ETA:  I got the car to my house okay, but there was a very strong burning oil smell and blue white smoke was pouring out the exhaust in the back.  Yikes!

What should I write a book about?

If I write the memoir, think Running With Scissors by Augusten Burroughs. It was both tragic and one of the most hilarious books I ever read. I have to read it again. I just ordered a copy.  I might review it in a future post.