Celebrations, Menopause

Peekaboo: The Wedding Dress Revealed!



Just a trick to lure you into reading my post.

Won’t do it again, promise!

But this puff of underskirts is all the bride would permit me to show you.

Actually, she barely agreed to that much.

The dress is sitting in its long, important bag on her childhood bed.

Duckie stands guard.

Duckie Stands Guard

A brand new dress.

A not so new duck.

And love swirling around in all sorts of ways.

Aging, Celebrations, Children, Fashion, Menopause

White Lace and Promises: The Hunt Is Over!

Five cities.

Ten stores

And about sixty dresses.

But there was one Laura just kept thinking about.

She first tried it on in Atlanta, where she lived for the summer.  A store in Denver carries the dress, so she tried it on again while vacationing there.

Once settled back in Durham for the fall, she arranged for a loaner to be sent to a store about two hours away, one of only two stores in North Carolina to carry this particular designer.

Third time’s a charm, and if she liked it, this would be THE DRESS.

She stood in front of me, a cloud of white.


I gave it my mother of the bride major thumbs up.

“Are you sure?” she asked.


“I guess this is it,” she said, spreading her hands over the skirt. “This is the dress.”


My daughter is a shopper’s shopper.

She gazed around the room.

This store stocked dresses she hadn’t seen in any other wedding store.

“I’d like to try on just a few more,” she said to the saleswoman.

The woman returned with a fluff of dresses.

But then the 26 -year-old shopper’s shopper shook her head.  “I changed my mind.”

“So you don’t want to try these?” the woman asked.

“I don’t want to get confused. I love this dress.”

Laura turned to me.  “Do  you think I should try them on?”

If she tried on more dresses, the hunt wouldn’t be over, yet.

Sitting in the chair and watching your daughter model wedding dresses is about as fun as it gets.

You don’t have to stuff yourself into any crazy corsets. Instead you get to live the experience through a younger version, sort of, of yourself, with better skin and body and teeth and hair and who knows what else.

I took in a small breath.

My last child to be married.

My last chance to give a motherly opinion on matters of tulle and lace.

My last opportunity to comment on how the bosoms look with the neckline or the flow of the skirt or the length of the train.

The dress is gorgeous.

“No,” I said. “Get this one.”

And so the hunt, is, sigh, over.

Dress details to come after the June, 2013 wedding. The groom-to-be doesn’t spend much time on menopause blogs, but there’s no sense taking any chances.

Celebrations, Menopause

Thirty-five Years!

Wow. Thirty-five years. That’s a long time!

If someone asked me the secret to a long and happy marriage, being one who likes to give advice, I suppose I could expound a bit.

But I think the real key is to celebrate everything you can from the baby’s brilliant first word to the first spring night when it’s warm enough to eat supper on the porch.

Oh and start off eating cake with buttercream frosting and keep buttercream on the permanent to-do list.

Happy celebration of everything good and happy in our lives and yours!

Photos:  Cliff and I were married on August 20, 1977 at Divinity Lutheran Church in Towson, Maryland, followed by a garden reception at my home. The figures on the cake were also on my mom and dad’s cake. My girls turned them down. Too old-fashioned.

Laura, who is wedding dress shopping, did consider wearing my dress, which pleased me. She’s decided  there are some other styles she prefers though. She wants a dress to change into for the dancing and suggested we cut mine off for her to wear then. I said no. My friends Gail and Judy say yes. Opinions?

The photo at the top was taken by Katherine in her living room two Thanksgivings ago.