Addiction to Perfection

Posted on 22 September 2005

I said I would blog on Thursday and so I will though I have little time this morning as I slept late but Kate reminded me yesterday of my intention to write weekly and I love Kate, love her honesty and earnestness and writing; and love that she wants to read me. And there are several other friends (all women) who tell me that they are disappointed when they check my blog site and find nothing. And though I can count my readers with the fingers on one hand, they are all extraordinary women and, at the risk of sounding corny, I will say that I am grateful and pleased, in my heart and soul, that they tell me that my meandering thoughts are worth reading.

So what have I been up to? I am still trying to move slow and easy and not put pressure on myself though it is difficult. I want to do everything well. Is this Addiction to Perfection or is it simply taking time to enjoy process? Perhaps a bit of both but I am enjoying my life more. And I’m finding that the little things hold the most meaning.

For instance: Rob and I went to the Fringe Festival last weekend to see “Broad Comedy”, a series of short skits, by five women from Montana, that poked fun at everything from shaving (especially pubic hair) to virginity. We left the house early and moved towards the car. Rob climbed into the driver’s seat. I had driven last and when he turned the key, my country station on the radio blared out. He changed the station to one that appealed to him. I put down my window. He used the master control, to the left of the driver’s seat, to put it up. I felt my body shrink as if I were a little girl and the man who held the power was behind the wheel. (Does it sound like I’m making a mountain of a mole hill?) I turned to Rob and said, “If this was our first date would you change the radio station and close the window, without asking?” He said he found the lyrics of the song playing offensive. I repeated my question. He lowered my window and said, “Probably not.” I told Rob that I was going to tell him when things bother me. (I don’t want to misrepresent Rob. He is a kind man and most often we are harmonious and agreeable to the other and, unlike the man of power of my childhood, he listens and is fair.)

But as I wrote about this last night at Marlene’s Jungian Circle (and didn’t read because I want to think things through and again, didn’t want to misrepresent Rob or sound like I was making excuses for him) I see that I betray myself too often because I think the situation too small to become all hot and bothered about…

(I really have to dress and get to work as I’m opening the store but will return later (I promise) and continue.)

Oh, I wish I could think more clearly but the end of the day is my worst. I went to work and a mother and daughter came in to look at blouses. The mother had one of the sweetest faces I’ve ever seen. She proudly told me she was ninety. She didn’t buy anything but the two were a pleasure to talk to. And then another woman flew in and tried on a few items but didn’t buy either. But she gave me a hot tip on a film: “See Women in Lavender,” she said. I completed a ton of paperwork and then Helen arrived with a egg salad sandwich and a fresh peach sliced in a plastic bag, a fork and a napkin so I wouldn’t go hungry. My friends know that I don’t eat often enough unless I am served. Now how sweet is this?

It was a morning of sweetness and then we, Helen and I, took off for the Fashion Exchange in Vancouver to try to find accessories for winter. I hate to say it but Vancouver market is boring (or have I said this before?) The only two reps who had anything worth buying had already sold to retailers in West Vancouver. I returned to the store.

Sigh. Now I am home and too tired to talk about the “little things’ and what they signify. I will try to blog tomorrow.


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