“Not in Assisted Living (Yet): Dispatches from the Edge of Independence!

Welcome to my World---Woman, widow, senior citizen seeking to live out my days with a sense of whimsy as I search for inner peace and friendships. Jeez, that sounds like a profile on a dating app and I have zero interest in them, having lost my soul mate of 42 years. Life was good until it wasn't when my husband had a massive stroke and I spent the next 12 1/2 years as his caregiver. This blog has documented the pain and heartache of loss, my dark humor, my sweetest memories and, yes, even my pity parties and finally, moving past it all. And now I’m ready for a new start, in a new location---a continuum care campus in West Michigan, U.S.A. Some people say I have a quirky sense of humor that shows up from time to time in this blog. Others say I make some keen observations about life and growing older. Stick around, read a while. I'm sure we'll have things in common. Your comments are welcome and encouraged. Jean
Showing posts with label Prada. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prada. Show all posts

Saturday, June 4, 2022

The ‘Oh so Fine’ People on Parade

Our fine dining restaurant is only open from 5:00 to 7:00 three days a week and for Sunday brunches. But during the afternoon it’s occasionally filled with outside groups that book the place for their meetings. One day I happened to be sitting in a place where I was able to see a group of women as they left the restaurant to go on a tour of our complex. And may I say they were oh so 'refined’ and could have graced the pages of Advanced Style Magazine. Most of these women were wearing Kentucky Derby style hats (in Michigan, oh my!) and two had tailored silk suits dyed to match or more likely the hats were dyed to match their colorful suits---raspberry and cerulean blue. Some of them carried purses big enough to double as pet carriers and shamefully expensive I have no doubt. I felt like a gray church mouse in my outfit that came from a big box store so long ago that I can’t count the years on my fingers. (I really do need a closet make-over.) They were members of a woman’s guild that raises money for the local hospitals, presumably by strong-arming other rich people at the black tie events around town.

Back in the ‘90s my husband and I used to go to an annual fundraiser that was sponsored by the Catholic churches. It was called, “Soup’s On.” It was held at our local museum and the $50 a ticket price included a ceramic bowl we’d decorate ourselves and pick up later after it was fired. The fancy restaurants in town would make their signature drinks plus soups, breads and desserts and we hobnobbed in our best outfits---the exact, same outfits year after year since neither one of us was into fashion. It was super fun to go to and one year we got to talk to an internationally known but local artist, Paul Collins. I admire him but Don was his groupie every bit as devoted to knowing the details of his life and work as Taylor Swift groupies are about her. The event raised money for our local food pantries and a mission that feeds street people---the latter being Don’s favorite charity. I still give the mission a Christmas donation in his name. 

Another do-gooder organization meets at our restaurant from time to time. And their thing seems to be wearing silky scarves. I’ve seen them come and go several times, most of them are wearing dresses with colorful scarves artfully twisted and knotted around their necks and sky-high heels. They are younger than the women from the guild, probably still in the work force judging by the fact that they mostly meet in the evenings. and I'm guessing the scarves are their take-their-office-wear-to-night accessories. Their membership is $1,000 a year and they recently put on a dinner to support women entrepreneurs. For $100 a plate you got a meal and a chance to win a Prada purse. A couple of the women who live here went and came home miffed because the grand prize Prada purse was a supposedly an out-of-date style. I’d be embarrassed if I knew the Prada line well enough to identify an older style from a new one. But I can do that with Crocs and I’ll bet there’s someone out there who thinks being a Crocs aficionado is---well---a bunch of crocks. No sass or pun intended, I assure you. I own ten pair of Crocs and four are special editions. 

Our restaurant has also hosted a men’s choir as well, and one of its members lives here. That was a fun group to sit on the sidelines and observe (and hear) which by the way is easy to do because our restaurant and the cafe’ share the same lobby and neither one has doors. We’ve had tour buses full of people booked for lunches too, but they are part of the marketing strategy for keeping both this and our sister campus full of residents. I've been on tours like that to other CCCs and I'd wondered how the residents felt about it...and now I know. Weird, it feels weird being one of the 'happy residents' on display! We have a long waiting list, I’m told, for our lakeside apartments here so those who live in one better hope the CCC doesn’t employ a hit-man to keep a turnover of newbies buying into the complex. 

Last week our marking director stopped by a table where a bunch of us were having lunch and she mentioned she has people on a waiting list to buy one of our twelve town houses on the other side of the lake. I couldn't help it when I joked, "And soon our CEO will hire a hit-man and the wait list will vanish." She opened her mouth, speechless at first while everyone else laughed. Then I added that I read too many murder mysteries which isn’t true at all---not my favorite genre---but it made her recover her tongue. Gallows humor is not uncommon here. Have I mentioned lately that I have fun on my new digs? ©