thievery

Today I got these:

at DSW for $12.  You can buy them here for $115.

i watch too much tv

I was informally asked yesterday to do a baking demonstration at an upcoming women’s ministry event at my church.  I found my mind wandering to all of the clever things I could say and do and how all of the ladies at church would be riveted – not by my baking abilities, but by my easy humor and quick wit.  I also thought about how easily my debut demo could be recorded and used as my submission tape for The Next Food Network Star.

I formally declined the informal offer and will continue my baking, my church activities and especially my fantasy life outside of the limelight.  My apologies to the universe.

you’re welcome

Yesterday I got more hair compliments than I have ever received in any one given day (excluding those days where I’ve debuted a new “drastic change” ‘do).  In an effort to better the world, let me share with you my hair secrets from yesterday in a few simple steps that you can do at home:

1. Get out of bed.
2. Go to mirror.
3. Confirm that bobby pin placement from previous day is still secure.
4. Lift a few sections of hair to “fluff” and spray hairspray underneath.
5. Dress and apply make-up as usual.

A few other tidbits that might help you as well:

1. Mentally prepare yourself for all of the raving complements you will receive.
2. Practice humble “thank-you” face and inward chuckle.

don’t mess with tradition

Yesterday as I was watching my dear friend open gifts at her baby shower and adorn herself with the ribbons from the packages, a memory came rushing back to me.  At my wedding showers, I broke every single ribbon – on purpose – just to spite that silly tradition of babies for the breaks.

WARNING: Do NOT mock such traditions.

 Just kidding, I’m not superstitious like that.  I do think its a bit of an ironic little pickle though.

turquoise pointy high heels for my wedding

Someone found my blog with those search terms.  Umm…whoever you are – let’s be best friends, ‘kay?  I adore you.

falling

If autumn were a feast, it would be hot chili that warms you from the inside out with each hearty bite.  It would be crunchy apples topped with warm caramel.  It would be apple cider and candy corn and smores cooked over a bonfire.

 If autumn were an outfit, it would be chocolate corduroy pants with a burgundy fitted t-shirt and a camel suede blazer worn with stylish boots and a chic leather handbag.

If autumn were a sensory experience, it would be the feeling of a crisp bite to the air promising the winter to come.  It would be the sound of beautifully decorated tree branches waving their tiny red, yellow and brown flags in the wind.  It would be the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot and a faraway smell of burning leaves.

If autumn were an activity, it would be football games with hot chocolate and mittens and tailgating and friends.

But autumn is a season, and its my favorite.

butt surfing

I’m back from waiting on my mom hand, foot and knee.  She had some surgery to repair a torn meniscus, so I – being the dutiful daughter that I am – headed north to hang out with my aging parents.  I’m telling you, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen your 58-year-old mother scoot up and down the stairs in her two story house on her bottom.

Merry Christmas

I know more people (4) with a birthday of September 11th than any other one day, so I had to go back and check something.  I found out that 9/11 is approximately 38 weeks from Christmas. 

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The external light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

I bet Virginia’s birthday was September 11th.

ch-ch-changes

So, I got a haircut last week, but ever since I’ve been fairly unexcited about my choice to just get a trim.  I think its time for a change.  In my hair history, this is perhaps the longest my hair has ever been plus also, the longest it has ever been the same.  At the same time, growing it out can be a big pain – as documented by many pictures that I look back on now and wonder what I was thinking.

Does anyone know what the new “it” hairdo for fall is going to be?  I know “The Posh” is all the rage right now and I love it, but I’m afraid that by the time I do it, I will be on the tail end of the trend and therefore more of a copycat than a trendsetter, plus have new-to-me hair that is already out of date.

If I don’t opt for the next big trend, I’m thinking about something like this:

Presumably it should grow fairly easily into something like this:

That could also be styled like this (similar to what I have now):

Anyone have any thoughts?  My current hair looks pretty much like this:

…except for not blonde anymore and a few inches longer.  (Bonus Feature: Check out that handsome devil next to me.  Okay, stop checking him out now – he’s mine.)

soleful

I was wearing turquoise wedges when I met my best friend.  She said that she remembered because she wasn’t used to seeing tall girls wear heels and she felt empowered.  I remembered too. 

Many of my memories are marked by the shoes I was wearing. 

I remember shopping for my wedding shoes with my mom and buying the wrong pair first, but loving them just the same.  Then I remember finding just the right pair. 

I remember the sneakers I wore to the hospital when my friend had her baby – tan with a pink logo and a few strategically placed sparkles.

I remember the black satin pumps with the simple and sophisticated knot that I bought for all of the bridesmaids as maid of honor duty for a friend’s wedding.  They wanted strappy sandals, and didn’t yet understand the sophistication of a black satin pump.

I remember the black thong sandals that I loved that broke the last time I was at my grandparents’ farm before they moved to assisted living.  I remember almost crying.

I remember the leopard print slippers that I wore in college on trips to the mailbox or the short drive to McDonalds with my roommates for a Coke.

I remember the red peep toe heels that I wore with my turquoise top to show my old girlfriends that I’ve still got that sassy touch when we got together last fall.

I remember the excitement of finding my size in the silver and white sandals I got at Target for $3 and have worn over and over again – and finding the brown and bronze version for my best friend too.

I remember being a little girl and shoving my feet into those rose colored ballet flats long beyond the point where they were too small.

I remember the metalic sandals I bought the day we got engaged, and the brown leather sandals that Husband bought – our “engagement sandals”.

I remember that I was shoe shopping with girlfriends when my parents called to tell me my grandpa was dying. 

I remember the snake-skin heels I found on clearance that were real designer and too fabulous to pass up.

I remember the brown pointy toe patent leather pumps the gals at Dillards hid away for me when they were a one-of-a-kind return in my size, and just my style.  I remember the great deal they gave me too.

I remember countless remarks of “those can’t be comfortable, are they comfortable?” and me wondering why everyone thinks comfortable is so important.

I remember the lavendar sandals I wore to a visitation when one of the high school girls in my small group lost her dad in a car accident.

I remember those beige and cream Doc Marten mules that I wore so much my freshman year in college.

I remember the seersucker striped peep-toe wedges that I wore to the doctor the day the second miscarriage was confirmed.  I knew it happened and thought if I looked pulled together, I’d feel pulled together.  Despite my best efforts, I fell apart; but at least I looked great.

A lot of people keep memories in shoe boxes – notes, pictures, cards, ticket stubs…  I don’t have as many of those things that I keep, but I keep my memories in shoe boxes too.