It seems impossible that it’s been nearly a year since my uncle died.
I hadn’t thought about it – that is I think about him every day, just hadn’t thought about the timing. I’m OK on birthdays, but I always seem to forget deathdays. But Mom will be here next week and she mentioned that she’d found a synogogue near the hotel in London where we’ll be staying, so we can go say Yahrzeit for him. Speaking of good timing, it will be nice to be together for that.
It’s funny how death and falling in love warp time; death seems to shorten time, so that it seems the person can’t possibly have long, while when you fall in love it can seem like you’ve been together for always and just for a momengt, both at the same time. That wears off a bit in the latter case – now that Ted and I actually *have* been together forever (20 years!) it doesn’t really feel like just a moment any more. Even in my dreams; they are less often about him, and more often there’s just a sense that he’s there with me going through them. The scariest nightmares I’ve had have been a couple where we got separated. I don’t know if birth warps time in the same way, except that other people’s kids grow by leaps and jumps when you’re not watching them closely.
To descend from the sublime to the completely ridiculous, I spent some time last night trying to take decent pictures of myself. I hate the way I look in photographs – double chins, bassett eyes and protruding belly all jump out at the camera. It’s odd, because I don’t at all mind the way I look in the mirror, and because while I’ve always had the droop-angled eyes, I don’t actually have a double chin (a weak one, yes) and the belly jumped out in photos even when I was skinny (I did still have a belly, just not nearly as much of one as photos said). After taking a look at ashion blogs like Fashion for Nerds or the Uniform Project or New Dress a Day that have a new outfit photo every day, I realized that while granted a lot of those people are more photogenic than I am to start with, a lot of them are also posed in really consistent and unnatural ways. At least, maybe those poses are comfortable for them, but my body doesn’t really do that. I’ve concluded that what’s really needed is a large full-length mirror behind the camera. I have about a three-foot tall one I angled so I could see at least part of me, and concluded that I still can’t tell if I’m going to look bad in a photo (not being able to see my shoulders and head in the mirror didn’t help!) but at least I can tell when I am achieving the angles shown in the photos. Or almost.
I was taking the photo because I wanted to post yesterday’s outfit to to stylishly yours for opinions; I think it worked and I find that interesting because those big color blocks go against all the ‘rules’ for small women. I won’t have time to photograph today’s duds, which is a picty because I like them even more: gray skinny jeans (not too tight, it’s a workday), embroidered T-shirt that was a whopping 15 euros at a street market in Amsterdam, black fitted blazer, beaded headband, red MJ pumps. Very rockstar, or at least as close to it as I get. And also comfy, thanks to a touch of spandex in both blazer and jeans.
(It’s OK. I don’t think my uncle would mind my remembering him and then digressing onto clothes, as long as I do remember him. He was fine with vanity, and as much of an attention hound as I am. And some day, I swear I will find an outfit that works with the spectacular beaded clutch bag he gave me, with the beach scene on it.)