Oh so pretty

I am finally a real adult.

No seriously.

Paying all those bills. Supporting myself and T. None of that is really as adultish as what occurred last week. I got a real matching bed set. Not hand me down comforters, not comforters from when I was 17. Not mismatched sheets and pillow cases that I have picked up over the years. But a real bed set.

King size comforter. Two pillows, two shams, 4, count them 4 different pillowcases. Fitted and flat sheet. And it is purple. I love the color purple.

The minute I got home, the sheets and pillow cases were in the wash. I wanted my smells on them, not that plasticy smell from the bag. My old sheets and comforter, the pillow cases, striped off and tossed into the corner. (Not really mom, stop hyperventilating, I washed them and put them away). I was excited. I could not wait to see my vision come to life.

Last year, I got my first adult bed frame. It is romantic and gorgeous and totally me. A me that no one knew existed but does now. Before that, my mattress had rested on the old wooden frame of the waterbed we use to have. When I moved, I threw the wooden frame out and hunted around until I found this one. This was last year’s birthday present to myself. And while it did make me feel a little more adult-like, I was not still truly there.

I have a vision of what my bedroom should look like. It is soft colors and romance. It is my escape from the world. I go there to read, for quiet and sleep. As I am in an apartment I am not able to paint the walls a different color but if I could they would be a light grey with mauve trimming. A light mauve. The lighting would be scones on the walls. And sheer drapes covering the blinds.

Much like when I was younger, I get an image and I know what it is I want. I just do not know where or when I am going to find it. I have been yearning for the same pair of boots since I was 14 years old. They have yet to be designed. Although I can see them just fine in my mind.

On Thursday I went into the city with a friend and we went to Kildonan Place. I had not been in there in years. Over 20 so the changes were immense and surprising. We wandered through the mall, stopping to check out Bath and Body and various of the bedding places. Each one I took a quick look and shook my head. What I was looking for was not there.

On a whim, and one last shot, we meandered into Sears. I was not holding out much hope that I was going to find anything for my bed. We found a nice cotton bed set with a darker purple accent on white. Although it was a reversible comforter, it did not sit right with me. It did not call to me.

I walked towards the back wall and there it was. The color. The sheen. I looked at it and looked away. I was not really certain that I was seeing what I was seeing. It was perfect. The perfect color. And it called to me.

I went back to look at the first one but my heart yearned for the other. I decided then and there which one I wanted. And my first ever adult bed set came home with me.

I feel like a queen when I crawl into bed at night. The comforter is puffy and soft. The sheets are new and crisp and matching. The pillows, something which once I thought was a silly affectation make me giggle and smile. I burrow into the pillows, the comforter pulled up around my shoulders and I fall asleep with ease.

Ohhhhhhhhh and I want to make my bed, every morning because it is so pretty.

Next up, the upsizing of pillows so they fill the pillow cases.

Parent=Antithesis of Cool

***Picture is mine taken Aug. 19/17 my bro and nephews.***

There is literally only one thing that any older sibling wants to do in their lifetime. And that is to crush an illusion that a younger sibling holds so that they are unable to ever hold onto it again. Last night I got to do just that with my baby bro. With the help of his children.  Apparently he has been suffering under the delusion that he is cool.

You read that right.

My 38 year old brother, father of 3 teenagers, believed he was cool. You will notice the past tense I am using.

Myself, my nephews and my niece, disabused him of that notion.

The conversation started off innocently enough. He had been texting me while I was at work and once I got home and settled we continued to talk. He was having a great evening with his therapist Wayne. Wayne Gretzky that is. Apparently the great one makes rye. Who knew?

First he thought that he could trick me. We were having a conversation about spelling. He told me he was a great speller. I informed him that auto-correct does not count towards his ability to spell. D than said to me ‘go ahead, give me any word and I can spell it correctly.’

At some point time in his life, D fell under the belief that he could trick me. Thus far, I have a score of about 1000 to his 0. My response, ‘dude if I give you the word it will already be spelled correctly and you will just copy it.’

I am sure he was sitting in the corner of his couch chortling away, thinking that he had finally caught me out.

Than he did something that drives me absolutely nuts. He began to shorten words and misspell them. When you are a writer that is enough to drive the knife in and twist it. I finally corrected his spelling and was informed that this is a new thing that the kids are doing these days. Shortening words. Cool lingo.

As far as I am concerned they just look illiterate.

I love my niece and nephews. I love my son. But they are kids. And kids are assholes. They think that they know everything and anything. I know this because I once was a kid. I was the biggest asshole around.

When I informed my bro of the fact that he just looked illiterate, he laughed and said ‘doesn’t matter I am still cool.’ I nearly fell off the couch I was laughing so hard. It is a good thing that I can type through tears because they were threatening to fall as I howled.

I made him ask his children if they thought he was cool. I also let him know that if they did say he was cool, they were liars. ‘You are a parent. You are the antithesis of cool.’

D asked. His children broke his heart. At 38 years of age, D must finally reconcile the facts. He is no longer cool. His children and me, we are cruel creatures he informed me. Crushing his dreams. All I could get out of him was that the kids told him ‘dad is not cool.’

It had to be done. D could not be allowed to suffer under this delusion any longer. After crushing his coolness dream, we discussed our weirdness. And how that is just who we were. And how it is kinda cool to be weird. But the kids cannot see that because to them normal is ‘cool.’

So with our weird freaks flying free D and me, we are cool. It is the kids that are not.