Blue Jeans to Pearls

In between work gigs today and stopped at a French Cafe (in Texas of all places). The fact they have real French Roast coffee makes my heart sing a little. When I went to Paris, I swore I would never drink American coffee again. The fact that I also ordered a lemon tart somehow makes this emotional train wreck of a day a bit better. I know I probably sound high maintenance. But I’m really not that complicated — complex maybe, complicated hardly.

A friend once described me as a blue jeans to pearls kind of girl. Which is funny b/c I actually remember a groundbreaking event at a University where I worked. I was among the “dignitaries” holding the golden shovels — there must be some store that sells golden shovels and very large pairs of scissors for such occasions. Anyway, the pictures from the groundbreaking were printed in the local newspaper. I remember someone commenting that I was the only one who actually looked like she knew how to dig dirt. Truth is, I probably was. And you know that first Sex in the City Movie where Carrie (SJP) sits in her PJs wearing pearls and eating a cup of noodles. Yeah, that’s kind of me. In fact, I’ve been know to have Kraft Mac-n-Cheese and champagne for dinner. Pearls and lipstick are really the only necessities in life in terms of tangible goods.

As far as the blue jeans are concerned, like most women, I have a love-hate relationship with those things. It depends on the day I suppose. At this point in my life though, I’m not laying on the floor, sucking in my breath and pulling up the zippers with a safety pin (if you are a woman you know we’ve all done this, if you are a man, “thank you” is the appropriate response). And I don’t wear bedazzled dungarees. Jeans are jeans. Simple is best. Perhaps that’s why he said I’m a blue jeans to pearls kind of girl.

I think what that really means is I might be some sort of social chameleon. In my true form, I’d prefer to be inside or out with a book in my hand and shutting out the world. But, I can also spin in circles of conversation at social events and hold my own. A colleague once told me that I bring life to the room. I’m still trying to find out if that’s a compliment or if he was just hinting that I needed to put down my cocktail and go home.

Anyway, back to not being complicated. The things I want are simple. Change the lightbulbs in the house when they burn out, take care of the yard, take care of the trash, and for God’s sake if there is something wrong with my car, take care of it for me. [Ravish me in bed.] Instead, I’m left to do these things myself. Except the lawn. I’m not mowing the lawn. I’ll pay someone to do that. Pearls trump blue jeans after all.

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