Tail Feather, Shaken

Gatsbyish themed Xmas party with our buddies!

God help you if you follow me here, facebook, instagram, and twitter. If I go to a party, you have to hear about it for days on all channels. Probably eventually you'll see a picture of the mints in the bathroom, as soon as I can figure out what filter to use.

LOL jk but probably!

Matt's company had a nice party the other night. One thing I enjoy about the video game biz--or probably this is true of any creative field--they love to throw costume/theme parties and everybody always gets into it. Or there was one guy in an argyle sweater, but maybe he was dressed as an old-timey caddy! I find that having a theme helps focus one's dressing up, you know? I love going to parties with my fella. When I got the invitation and saw that it was a 1920's theme, I knew exactly what kind of dress I wanted, beads 'n' feathers. I had seen Sue Wong dresses at Saks. But I needed to find one for a non-Saks price, and I did on ebay. Late on in the evening, this artsy girl in the lobby said to me, "I've always loved Sue Wong, it's fun to see that dress being worn." And Reader, how I did glow with pleasure! Anway, feathers. Check into them.

And since we're still talking about clothes, I can't say enough to recommend a pair of nude platform heels. Where have these been all my life? I paid a full $22 for them but I think I'm going to wear them with everything. Except not everything because they are so uncomfortable. But no matter.

The face I make when I roll a 7, below-right.

Another highlight was when the DJ crossed the room to where I was standing at the craps table. He said, "I just wanted to thank you. Everything I play a new song, you start dancing in place, and I know I've made a good choice." You're welcome sir? He was having a hard time getting anyone to dance, because there was gambling.

I am one of those people who thinks she could be really good at blackjack. But, you know, I'm not at all.

Another thing that happened was my strap broke. That dress is heavy, with all the beads, and it's held up by two tiny spaghetti straps. After I didn't win a prize for my gambling prowess, several people were consoling me with hugs. I hugged back and felt my strap give way. Thank the Lord I was wearing my special bra that has its own infrastructure and public works department, so I just tucked the broken strap into the top of my bra and put my hair over it.

Usually when your dress breaks, it's time to head to the house. But I partied on a while longer. Charleston!

Oh, and a hair note. Both Kelly Ham and I wanted to have a sleek short flapper hairstyle, but we both came to the same conclusion: We couldn't achieve sleek and short, so we went with big and voluminous. And thank goodness, because I needed it for cover. Kelly's dress was 360 degrees of sequins--very pretty and sparkly. She had on the Bra of Amazement too. Is this too much information?

Anyway, now you're caught up. In the next post I'll cover the rest of the weekend's festivities and that should bring us almost up to date.

Y'all going to any parties? Tis the season to spill all the beans about them. xoxo

b

Let's Make It a Night You Won't Remember

Adult Halloween was last Saturday. We went to the party in our neighborhood that we always go to, the one hosted by my tennis friend where they go bananas starting on Labor Day and move out all their furniture and completely transform the place.

Whereas last year, I thought of our 1980's tennis players get-ups in, like, May, this year I was slow to get inspired. I had seen Silver Linings Playbook last year and for some reason it stuck with me. When nothing else presented itself, I quietly moved forward with that idea. Then at the last minute Matt announced he was borrowing someone's full-on movie-quality Chewbacca costume. That's really one of Matt's true inner selves, and I knew I couldn't stand in his way. But then he decided he didn't want to spend all night inside Chewbacca, so we went with my plan. It was a fun look, and in keeping with my philosophy of Halloween costumes that are kinda feel-good.

One guy guessed that we were salt and pepper shakers. I don't even know?

The day after that party, my friend asked me what kind of bra I was wearing, and then she went and bought one.

So, the party: Over the top and fun as always. Everyone looked great. Also I will never touch another jello shot. I mean, really. What the what. I swear I only had like two and there is this thing with them where you're fine and all the sudden why is this house so crooked?

I was trapped in a Dali painting so I didn't notice but apparently there was some shenanigans with the powder room, and people going into the powder room with people they shouldn't be in there with, i.e., anyone, and the hostess was having to pound on the door to dislodge whomever was in there. Lots of couples were going in there and one time, a chick and two dudes came out.

At a certain point, you kinda hope they're doing drugs. If that had been my house, I would have been like, "Get the eff out, you live AROUND THE CORNER." But I don't know. Probably somebody lost a contact lens and lots of different people were helping look for it.

My friend was Frida Kahlo and I was the only one who knew who she was. Speaking of Surrealismo.

This was at the pre-party when everything still made sense.

At one point, we were supposed to go around and play some form of Bingo based on people at the party, but I forgot the rules of Bingo. Bingo doesn't really even have rules but it was like omg so confusing!

Jello shots are dumb.

Okay so then Matt took me home. It was really a lovely time, honestly.

The next day was the three-set tennis match against the horrible trolls. My entire tennis team was at the party so it's basically a miracle that anyone won a single point. But it turns out that three sets of tennis is a great cure for whatever ails you. Also it was nighttime by then so okay.

Did you guys dress up? Anybody go as the kids from Moonrise Kingdom? Because that would be adorable but I thought of it too late. And my other friend was like, "Yeah my husband thought of that too, you guys are weird."

xoxo

Moonshine and Magnolia

Her: "It'll be like Abbey Road but in Sylva."  Me: !!!

Mountain house reading.

Dolled up.

Happy New Year to you! And you. And to you, little blog.

We were up at the mountain house in western NC for the weekend leading up to New Year's Eve.  Man, the stuff the happens up there. It really is a different place.

One case in point: Mom and Dad returned from the little bookstore one afternoon and reported that they'd seen a guy--a kinda militia-looking dude with a crewcut and a Krav Maga t-shirt on--buying multiple copies of A Witches' Bible. He said they were gifts for the members of his coven, and that that night was a special celebration for them. Then he said the German name for it, which sounded to their ears like "Frauyellen," but I'm sure that's not how you spell it, and it meant that it was a night to "celebrate the women."

He said they were all going down to the lake, and that they would wash the women's feet by the light of the moon.

I actually thought that sounded delightful. I mean, probably chilly. But I just thought, there is stuff you could be into that makes way, WAY less sense to me than that. Like golf, or the Tea Party. Sure, he is not the person that I would have thought would be up in that, but carry on people. Carry right on, good mountain folk.

.....

Another case: On the afternoon of New Year's Eve, Dad cozened Matt, my brother Dave, and me into going with him on his usual walk around the mountain. We've done this lots of times, and it's more for fitness than nature contemplation, as it involves about 50 minutes of briskly climbing steep hills. So, okay, but on this day he said he had added a section on a forest track that extended it to about three miles and just over an hour. We were game, so we set out.

A little ways in, we ran across some neighbors from down the way, friends of mom and dad's who may or may not have a small-batch home distillery for spiritous liquors. I cannot say for sure, in case there are any revenuers reading this, or perhaps Boss Hogg. We exchanged the pleasantries of the season and complimented him on a recent batch of his work that we had sampled. Then we went on our way again.

We headed into the new portion of the walk, and I kept saying, "I mean, where ARE we?" It was just parts of that mountain I ain't never seen before. There are just a handful of houses on the whole side of the mountain, but somehow this was like, really truly the back side of nowhere. And it also seemed like more than three miles. As we climbed a hill, me thinking we would crest it and see Shangri-la, who should reappear but the crafty neighbor, coming the other way. I was like, how did he get here? We left him way back there and, I don't know, is he a leprechaun?

He hailed us, we stopped, and he handed my dad a mason jar filled with almond liqueur that he'd made. He had gone home to fetch it and set out to meet us again. I still don't know exactly how he knew where we'd be, but probably leprechaun powers. But yeah, mason jar of hooch. That's some mountain hospitality. We opened it and all sampled it, and it did fortify us for the walk home.

Which turned out to be much longer than three miles, Dad having misundercalculated, and was in fact closer to eleventy-nine thousand miles. But it the walk hadn't been so long, we might not have come upon the mason jar of booze.

....

So we did that little hike and then the youngsters among us left our children with mom and dad and got gussied up and went to Asheville for some New Year's revelry, where I danced for two hours basically sober, then we saw the New Year in, and came home and hot tubbed the New Year in some more, and I went to bed and was awakened by Laura coming down with a stomach flu, which I then proceeded to get, and was sick in bed all of January 1 but it's all okay now.

And that's the rest of the story.

What are you up to? Did you have a nice Christmas? I bet you did. xoxox

Probably Not Worth It

The other day, I sorted through a massive amount of Laura's outgrown clothing, and separated them into three piles: Donate, Consign, Ebay. Actually there were two ebay piles, one for spring/summer and one for now. I've kept a lot of this stuff around for too long because I thought I could sell some of her outfits and make more money than I would from consignment, but as you may know, selling clothes on ebay is kind of a pain, because it involves a whole lot of washing and neatening and photographing for pretty small amounts of money. She has some of the cutest things, though, and some still with tags or never worn.

Back in the day--even a few years ago--you could do pretty well with better children's clothes in very good condition. Or "excellent used condition (EUC)," in the ebay lingo. I happily dressed Laura in a lot of of gymbo and Hanna, then resold it, and I remember it seems like you could get up to half of what you'd paid for the things new. It was a nice biz. Dressing her was a hobby, and ebay was too. Then I took a long break from reselling anything. Laura stopped wanting to dress in matching outfits. I started a blog. The world moved along.

So lately I've stuck a toe back into ebay and it looks like that market--children's clothing both new and used--has gotten super saturated. Like, lots of auctions ending without bids or with only an opening bid. I think there's just so many people reselling, and retail stores are basically giving things away in the first place. I did manage to sell a bunch of Hanna thick cotton tights--like seven pairs--for thirty-something bucks, so I thought I would list a few more things, but it's not looking too good.

The other day I sold a Gymboree velour jacket and yoga pants set, size 10. It was barely worn, and it sold for $7.49. I remember selling a similar set for $20 a few years ago, but okay. It's better than the zero dollars it was earning sitting in a basket. So I shipped it out last week. Tonight I got this message from the buyer via the little automated ebay messaging system:

Was a little disappointed to find out the pants are a size 12 and not a size 10 to match the coat, but they both look to be in EUC. Hodge Podge sizes are hard to resale :( 

Okay, whoops! I did sometimes buy L different sizes in bottoms and tops because she's always been so tall. I'd looked at the size tag in the jacket and not thought to check the pants. My fault, but I was a little annoyed by this note, though, because there is no question or request about it, it's just a complaint. It is unclear what would make her happy. And yes I know it is in EUC, I said it was. Also, I was surprised she was buying it to resell again and not for a child to wear. But I dunno. And the little frownie face. Please. So I sent back, "Hi, I'm sorry, my daughter must have worn those at the same time and I forgot there was a size discrepancy. Do you want to return?"

Returning something that you paid seven dollars for is a super duper PITA, so I am guessing she will say no, she'll keep it. Which then, am I supposed to apologize some more? Give her a partial refund? I have always shunned the way of the partial refund, and it's never really been an issue before. But that's what I think her message is angling for. She didn't say, "Your listing was wrong, I'm sending it back." She said she was "disappointed," to which I'm supposed to say...? Gah!

I know it is not cool to sell something as one size and have it turn out to be another, but this is my blog and I'm complaining to you anyway. Argle bargle! Details! I think my lifeforce may be too drained by the whole ebay enterprise, and given that the bottom has fallen out of the market, I'm going to take it all to consignment.

Anyway, 99 problems. Any of y'all still doing the ebay thing?

Hunkered

When the weather turns cool, I am very vulnerable to buying things. It is like no other time of year, and I mean, before we even get to Christmas shopping. When it is chilly, that is, when it is actually chilly inside my house, I start to fantasize about things that have magical warming properties. Things made of cashmere, down, fleece, etc. Of course, I have a complete winter wardrobe. I have these things. (Remember our mantra: I already have nice things. I already have nice things.) But around this time of year, I find myself wondering if three pairs of ugg boots are enough, and whether they make sheepskin shorts with the fleece on the inside that I could wear, like lederhosen-meets-Sundance, with a turtleneck over a pair of thick leggings.

Because that would be the most fantastic outfit ever. Truly! No really, I'm serious.

Matt came downstairs the other day to find me still wearing the teeny spandex shorts I had worked out in, with the addition of a pair of fleece legwarmers pulled all the way up to my thighs, leaving my shins bare. He said, "You know, there is another kind of clothing that would cover all these parts of your body." I also had on uggs and a cashmere cardigan, only the cardigan was too big so I'd belted it with the sash to my bathrobe which happened to be in the laundry room. It was a special look, it's a pity I didn't take a dozen self-portraits and put them on instagram.

But also, shopping. Every fall I fight the urge to rebuy things I already have because I like them and they work so well. Do you feel this urge?

Anyway, I found something this season I didn't already own and it is everything I hoped it would be. Fleece-lined leggings. They are only ten bucks and they combine the toastiness of fleece with the not-real-pantsiness of leggings.

I do not seek to relitigate the Are Leggings Pants question. I know there are strong feelings on both sides, but I feel that if you are wearing a longish top, and tallish boots, what happens in the middle is your own private Idaho.

Okay, so I'm loving the leggings, and they are taking the edge off my shopping jones. Other things I do when it's chilly: drink coffee all day long. And the other day I was at Cost Plus for some reason with my parents and my dad made me buy this German spiced wine. I'm having a mug every night. I'm having one now.

Stay warm my friends. xo

Fantabulous Wedding in LA

At the start of the evening...

...and at the end of the evening.

Last week I was so flustered with Hank's end-of-school stuff and playing vast quantities of tennis, badly, that I might not have told you guys that Matt and I were going to our friends' wedding in Los Angeles. And then I told you on facebook (you should "like" me 'cause I like you!), only I might have only said that we were in an airport (and that I yelled "Dark meat!" across the concourse because I was seized with fear that even after sixteen years of marriage, Matt might not know my chicken preference). So gosh, there is just so much living that sometimes bits of it slip away from the narrative grid upon which I want to index all of life.

Our friends Mike and Amy got married at a place called Hollywood Castle in the Hollywood hills. It is, well, this castle place. Or it is a house built to look like a castle in a kind of Disneyland way. And also like Disneyland, before you get there you're not sure what to expect, and then when you arrive you're like, "Oh, wow, this is just pure fun. Castle, YES!" And even better than Disneyland because open bar.

View from the driveway

The setting of this place, right on top of a hill, was wonderful. We could see the Hollywood sign from one side and the city from the other. The wedding couple was beautiful, and we got to see friends we haven't seen since we left California six years ago. Half of the wedding guests (three-quarters?) were in costume of some kind--medieval, fantasy, steampunk, who knows--and the whole effect was lovely. Definitely an unforgettable night.

This was the moss topiary dragon that watched over the table assignments. He was charming. His name is I Cost More Than College. Ha ha! jk, higher education has gotten crazy $$ the last few years. And the bride told me his name is Edgar.

The ceremony was on a green lawn overlooking the city, and then while we were having drinks, magic elves set up tables for us to have dinner out there.

Our table

My date

I'm not sure why this pic came out tilted; it can't be all that mead I drank.

This picture shows the little moat surrounding the castle, a charming wee moat that I almost fell into when the heel of my shoe got stuck between the boards of that bridge. I only went down on one knee though, so I'm sure everybody who saw me just thought I was kneeling in sudden prayer. I kinda wish I had fallen in because I probably would have come out clutching Excalibur. Usually that is what happens when I fall down at parties.

Then there was cake and dancing. Matt and I got to practice one of the two dance steps we know. And though Matt is against the idea of our renewing our wedding vows, as he believes our original vows are still in force and why cast doubt on that, I always feel a little like when we go to a wedding, those vows renew themselves a tiny bit.

Have you ever been to a themed wedding that you really loved? This was a nice one. For more pics of the scene and lots of pics of me but only one lonely picture that shows my shoes, click here.

Inappropriate Attire

Guess who was a minute late for preschool drop-off at the curb, and had to park and walk her child in wearing shortie compression shorts, her husband's sweatshirt, and Uggs? WINNING. I mean, these shorts, you put them on and you're still not really wearing pants. Perhaps I should not have set out into the world dressed this way, but I do not make my best decisions first thing in the morning. When I walked back into the house in this ensemble, Matt looked me over and said, "Well, I mean, each of those is technically an item of clothing. I don't see a problem."

Then, tonight, we had our mixed doubles practice at 7. It was nippy, somewhere down in the 40's, so I pulled on these spandex-y running leggings.

Yes, they have a sort of an outrageous tie-dyed pattern, but what are we, Amish? I thought they were cute, and they have a fuzzy lining, very cozy. But the following remarks were addressed to me by my lady teammates:

1) "I have to ask you where you got those." This was said not in a "I want some for myself" kind of way, but more in a "The selling of those pants is a crime against humanity and I want to know where to address my letter of protest" kind of way.

2) "Is there even a pocket in those?" No, that's what the jacket is for.

And, my favorite, from the "is there a pocket" girl's husband, who was not even playing on my court at that moment and spoke to me out of nowhere:

"Are those pants comfortable?" he said. I don't know exactly how to characterize this utterance, except it was odd to be addressed about one's pants by a male acquaintance. I answered that they were comfortable. Perhaps he wanted to seek out the male version for his own use? Or perhaps he's in the garment business and it was an impromptu focus group? Not sure. Then he spoke to me one other time while I was serving, some non sequitur, and I smiled at him and said, "You play on your court, and we'll play on ours." I said it sweetly 'cause I'm a lady and all.

But the Nike running pants are apparently some kind of Federal Case. WHATEVER, BITCHES. I can't help it if I'm fabulous.

Just classin' up the burbs on a Friday.

Weather has turned chilly, though it's still so beautiful and sunny. The trees were wonderful here this last week; it takes a long time for the oaks down here to get to peak color. Now the leaves are dropping like crazy. There's already a lot more light coming through the trees into my breakfast room. I have to get used to the way winter looks again.

Also, winter is going to look like my tie-dyed spandex ass. Maybe I will wear these to bookclub.

What have y'all got going on this weekend? Raking?
xo
b

Improvisation

Last week when Matt was preparing to go to his Granddad in Little Rock, I packed a bag for him.  I do this sometimes to ensure that he arrives at his destination with more than boardgames and socks that were packed to cushion the boardgames. I only packed casual clothes, though, so when he was leaving, he got his suit out of the closet and checked to be sure he had tie, belt, etc.

A couple days later, I was in our closet getting my own things ready, when I happened to look over at Matt's side, where I espied his suit pants.  I thought, "Hmm, I wonder what pants Matt took with him?" He is a one blue suit and one tuxedo guy, so there were not lots of options. I grabbed the pants and took them along. 

Then we were in Little Rock, in our hotel room, getting dressed to go to Granddad's funeral.  The shirt he'd brought was a new one.  After taking the pins out, he said, "Should we iron this, or should I just keep my jacket on?"  I love that question.  And his liberal use of the word "we."  So he whipped the iron out and I did a quick but okay job.  I just hit the fold lines, you know.

Then he put it on and said, "Uh oh, this is a tuxedo shirt."  It had French cuffs and he hadn't brought any cufflinks. I could not think of anything to substitute for those, so I invoked Tim Gunn and told him to put on his jacket and make it work.

In the lobby, I asked his dapper cousin, Michael, if he had any cuff links. I mean, Michael had tied his own bowtie that morning. He looked like the guy to ask.  He had no cuff links, but he told me I could create some out of hair elastics. He produced two of them from his wife's stash and told me to tie them in little knots.  "They'll look just like the ones from Brooks Brothers!" he said. I was skeptical, but I did my best. And look, not bad!

You just tie a knot in the end of one of the skinnier kinds of hair elastics, and then put the little loop left hanging out over the knot you've made.  Thread it through the buttonholes and do the same on the other side. It got the job done. True, they were olive green, but I am practically certain nobody cared.

And in case you would like more narratives of people getting dressed, I wore The Hardest Working Dress in Show Business, a black floral number that I wore to my cousin's wedding.  This dress has truly been to four weddings and a funeral. It's good to have something you can always reach for, you know? For this occasion I added a black sweater and pearls.

And Laura wore an Easter dress and a white cardigan. I don't think anyone puts children in dark clothes for funerals, do they? I mean, unless you find yourself attending a service before 1901? This could be a regional thing. 

We trekked up to Hector, Arkansas, for a wonderful graveside service led by a close family friend, then back down to Little Rock for a memorial.  There were many happy, celebratory moments.  I loved seeing all the family.

And I think that how nice we looked is the reason that the state trooper who pulled us over for speeding between the burial and the memorial did not give us a ticket.  I like to think those hairband cuff links played a role.

How Tacky Do You Let Yourself Get for The Holidays?

As I write this, I'm wearing a shirt that says, "MEET ME UNDER THE Mistletoe."  Or that's my best rendering of the shirt's typography.  It's written in those fuzzy letters like on 1970's little league jerseys, bright white letters on a green shirt.

When he saw it last night, my dad said, "Ah, did you pay money for that?"  I said I had.  He said, "That doesn't seem like you."

He's right.  I don't really have holiday-specific clothing and I certainly don't have clothing that speaks in actual words.  Yet I found myself in Old Navy one morning this week, and somehow I became owner of the mistletoe shirt and a waffle knit top with a reindeer on it AND, help me, a t-shirt that says "I've been nice."  Or really it says, "I'VE BEEN NICE."

I'm embarrassed.  But at least I didn't buy the "I've been naughty."  If that had happened, you would know that the pod people had seized control of my body.  Or that I'd been Imperiused.

Vulgaro!

And also, since I'm telling y'all everything, today I formed the thought, "It might be nice to have some Christmas earrings."

!!!

And do you know what I think is going on?  I think this is about not having my hair.  I don't have my long hair to be my decoration (except in dreams I still do). Hank and Laura both have various Christmas events in their classrooms, and with my no-nonsense Rachel Maddow hair, I somehow feel the need to jazz it up a little.

Festoonio!

Are you doing this?  What are your aesthetic boundaries for this season?  Even in other areas of adornment, I feel myself being pulled in a different--okay let's just say more tacky--direction than I go in non-holiday times. Witness the two pillows I have that look like fat little Santas.  I do not usually decorate with dolls.  And if I could afford one of those retro tinsel trees that is, say, bright aluminum, with the rotating color wheel, I would be on it like stink.

Bedizen!

We haven't gotten our tree yet, but we will this weekend.  We're easing in.  I have a Christmas tablecloth out and I switched to my Christmas bedding.  Yes, you would not meet me and think, "This girl has Christmas bedding."  This is what I'm talking about.

(It is the Pottery Barn "Swedish House" pattern and it sold out instantly and I had the duvet cover but I had to fight, like Hunger Games-style fight, for pillow shams on ebay.  Give me that Euro sham or I will shank you.)

By the way, if you DO wear a shirt that says, "I've been naughty," I am sure you are just quoting the wearing of the shirt and aren't actually wearing it so you are adorable and it totally works.

Night-night and MEET ME UNDER THE MISTLETOE.

And you didn't think I would post this without linking to this sweatshirt?

Snooch to the nooch,
B

Hank Raises An Objection

Last week I was trying to get everyone ready to leave town for my cousin's wedding.  I asked Hank to come try on his khakis, as he hadn't worn them in months, because he likes to keep it casual.

He ran across the living room and hurled himself face-first onto the couch, whined into the cushions, then slid down onto the floor like a boneless chicken cutlet.  I said, "Dude! What's wrong?"

He said, "I don't want to go to that wedding."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because it's too dignicating."

"It's too what?" I asked.

 He repeated, "Because it's too dignicating."

(I'm just spelling the word the way it sounded when he said it.  I am not sure if that's how it's correctly spelled in his Hank lexicon.)

I said, "What is dignicating?"

He said, "It is something that you don't wanna do."  Then he sighed.

The thing is, if I were a kid, I'd be exasperated with parents too, because we ask questions for which we already know the answers.  I knew exactly what "dignicating" meant the first time he said it: it obviously means a situation that imposes a state of unwanted dignity and correctness in dress, behavior, or decorum.  The etymology of his coinage was perfectly clear, like Sarah Palin's "refudiate."  Yet I wouldn't have guessed that Hank knew or even half knew "dignified" or "dignity."  But I guess he does?

Watching kids acquire language is my second favorite part of this parenting biz.  My most favorite part is eating the leftover mac and cheese off their plates.

I coaxed him into the khakis, which still fit.  And he went to the church nursery with his cousins during the ceremony, where I trust he was not overly dignicated.  He did sit nicely through the rehearsal dinner the night before.  He sat there like a dream through people making toasts, quietly dignicating some dessert.



Here are a few more snaps from the wedding weekend I wanted to share.  I go out of town for two days and you have to hear about it all week.  I know!



Here Matt is sporting Laura's feather hair barrette, which she'd tired of and clipped to his shirt. I told him he looked like he'd been decorated by a really awesome chivalric order.

Me with my dad, known to blog readers as Camp Papa. 

Debbie, my very own mom.

My date.

Kate, adorable sister-in-law.

Shorties got low.

Color scheme was apple green and pink. Preppy!

If you have scrolled through these wedding posts and now feel that you know my family enough to want to see more pics of us hanging out in my mother's kitchen, and also a rainbow I photographed, click here.

I hope you are having a good week with little dignication.

Wedding, Dresses

Well, after all that I wore a different dress to the family wedding over the weekend.  O Fickleness!

I put my sunglasses up there and then I can't feel them because of my wig, so I forget they're there.

So yes, I carried the pretty pink dress down to Pensacola and then the day of the wedding, I just wasn't feeling it.  I put it on and it seemed a little too big.  I realized I wouldn't be as comfortable as I am in this more streamlined, stretchy dress.  I'd brought it as an emergency backup, and once I put it on, Matt and everybody else liked it better.  You gotta wear what makes you feel the best, and this was really it.  Of course I needed to spend fifty bucks on a non-returnable, final clearance dress to figure out what made me feel best. C'est la guerre.

I did wear the big earrings though.

Oh, and other people wore clothes too.  Like the bride, Jessica.  Just look at this dress.





It was so big!  Patrick looks like he's standing in a snowdrift.  It was truly the kind of wedding dress little girls dream of.  She looked gorgeous.  And she has a mass of dark hair that is pretty like Snow White's.

Laura watching the bride and groom dance.

Other notable dresses:



This was a rerun from last year.  Still fits.  Here Laura is returning from her third trip through the food line.



My sister-in-law Kate.  This is an Anthropologie dress.  It has a Battenberg lace top layer.  Women crossed the room to ask her where she got this dress, and one little old lady asked her to be her date.  Also this picture makes me laugh, because it looks like they were having a normal conversation and just suddenly struck happy dancing poses.



The actual bridesmaid dress, worn here by Kelly, the matron of honor.  I loved the magenta and green.



Okay, Jessica's going away dress looked crazy good on her.  We gasped as she walked out.  That's why I didn't get any pictures of the front as she was walking by me, I was too stunned.  Later, Katie and I said, "It was the right dress on the right girl."  Those shoes, plum suede peeptoe wedges, were what she wore under the wedding dress too, on her tiny doll feet.  I wish I'd gotten to spend more time with those shoes.



Just lovely.  Keep rocking it, girl.

There are some dresses for you.  I have some other odds and ends that I'm sure I'll be posting.  'Cause that's how I do.  Have a good afternoon, buds. xoxox-B

Going to The Chapel of Love And What I'm Wearing There

J Crew's Sophia dress in sheer lilac.

Tomorrow afternoon we are going to zoom down the highway to Pensacola for the weekend, for my beloved cousin Patrick's wedding to the lovely Jessica.  He's the one whose coffee-can-diamond-ring-mariachi proposal I blogged about early this year. Obviously love does make the world go 'round, but more important, what will I be wearing while that's happening?

I got this silk dress when it got marked down to $49.99. Score!  J. Crew's wedding stuff is good quality.  And it fits nicely and it's pretty.

But how would you style it away from being bridesmaidish?  I am not a bridesmaid. Or bridesmatron.  I have some pewter-colored slingbacks I was going to wear. I was thinking a chunky necklace (as opposed to say, pearls) would take in in the wedding-guest-not-bridesmaid direction. Or maybe big earrings instead (Perhaps these that I got at BlogHer)? What are your thoughts?

I just realized that I don't know what color the actual bridesmaids will be wearing.  If it's close to this color, I will die and be dead.  Like, "Um, is Becky auditioning to be a bridesmaid?"

Also in that J. Crew order I got this.

It is very ruffly, yes?  I think it's ADORABLE and it looks good over skinny jeans too. Or, dare I say? JEGGINGS.  I took it out of the package and was flouncing around in it.  Then I sensed that it was a lot of look, so I walked into Matt's office and asked his opinion.

He said it reminded him of the time on "30 Rock" when Tracy Morgan was wearing the shirt made of hundred-dollar bills.

Yes, well.

Y'all lemme know about the accessorizing issue.

Tween Fashion

Well, in the beginning there was this look:

Which morphed into this:



And now we're wearing this:

When I first saw her in this ensemble, I was like, "Whoa! My eyes!" It's a lot of look, the glittery peace sign with the pink snake print tights. But then when she put on the high tops, it kind of all came together for me. Or more like, it made the proportions work and I get what she's doing.

The key is, it's what she's doing. We've had a steady progression from clothes totally picked out and combined by me, to clothes picked out under strong guidance from me (I blogged about my first trip to Justice this time last year), to my giving more like girlfriend-level advice. Her burgeoning fashion sense is fun to watch.

Plus I think she's totally rocking it. She looks trendy but she doesn't look exactly like any of her friends. And I'm mostly over my Gymboree nostalgia. Gymb-algia? Gymborrhea?

Also, as I've said before, her daily sartorial commitment to peace is inspiring. There are peace signs on her sneakers too. Also her pro-snake agenda. Inspiring.

I'm thinking Hank will keep letting me dress him until he's nineteen or so. Mothers of boys, am I right?

My White Jeans Make Their Debut

Of course I waited until after Easter like any decent Southern woman, but then I had a lot going on with the whole post-op recovery thing and I didn't bust out my white jeans until today. This not-so-great phone pic was snapped at the furniture store. The jeans performed just fine, though as you can see they are "distressed"--whatever. The fact that I had on pink underwear, which I realized only after I was fully dressed, did not deter me from sallying forth.

Oh, and why were we at a furniture store? Well you may know that slipcover-tucking accounts for about 80 percent of the metabolic energy consumed by my body. I decided that I do not have to live this way. Life is short and all. So I bought two new couches. That is not one of them. I got two of the JC Penney knock-offs of the Pottery Barn Basic slipcovered sofas. You can see 'em here. I know, JC Penney! They have furniture! I haven't been in that place in ages, but these couches have gotten good reviews and they really look just like the PB ones, for much less dough. I went to actually flop on them before making my decision. The flopping was good, so I went for it. I got the "natural" color.

I think that my life is about to improve dramatically because of this move. And in the time I recoup from the tucking and retucking, I may brush up on my reading French or sequence the human genome, who knows.

Cut-Off Jean Shorts

Yesterday afternoon I came downstairs wearing denim cut-offs and Laura said, "Whoa, Mom, you cut your jeans?" I was like, "Yes honey, but it's been a while. I cut these into shorts a long time ago." She looked confused. I broke it down for her: "They used to be jeans, but then I cut the legs off. And made shorts." She had an amazed look on her face, like I'd told her I could turn lead into gold.

I said, "Go get all of your jeans with holes in the knees and we'll make shorts." I don't know why I hadn't thought of doing that for her before. Increasingly these days, she gets holes in her jeans and I hate for her to wear holey jeans to school. So she brought a pair of jeans out onto the back porch with some scissors. She put them on and pointed to where she wanted them cut, right above the knee. I fixed them up for her and made sure they were even, and she loved them. Loved them so much she had to go stand on the end of the driveway and sing songs for several minutes. Thou once were jeans/but now are shorts/t'was blind/but now I see. (That wasn't the song.)

My question is, do you think cut-off jeans are appropriate school attire for a third grader? We are fast approaching shorts season here. We don't have uniforms here. I don't think the school dress code prohibits cut-offs, I think its only rule is about shorts/skirt length. But do your ideas of propriety prohibit them? I think Daisy Duke shorty cut offs or ragged ones would be an automatic no for me, but these look so tidy on her that I'm just not sure. I think they are preferable to holey jeans but I'm not sure by what mom logic I've arrived at that feeling.

These are the burning questions of our times.

Summary Judgments: Books n' Jeans

I thought I just did one of these posts, but I looked and it was over a month ago. I'll try to keep them to once a month or so, because I could wear you out with all the opinions I have--around here it's opinions all night long. Just like Lionel Richie said.

At Hank's bedtime, he likes for one of us to lie down on the couch in his room for a few minutes. I've gotten into the habit of reading in there as he falls asleep. It's a peaceful time. We chat a little bit, then he says, "Okay, that's enough. Good night," and he turns over and goes to sleep. Sometimes if I'm caught up in my book, I stay there a while longer. In that venue, I like to read things that are absorbing but not demanding.

Right now it's that Andrew Young tell-all, The Politician: An Insider's Account of John Edwards's Pursuit of the Presidency and the Scandal That Brought Him Down. I know, I feel kind of gross even admitting this. But I thought there might be some nuance to John Edwards's scuzzbucketness that I was missing. So lemme tell you, it is a disturbing book. Disturbing because I think there are lots of powerful people like John Edwards was, just doing whatever the hell they want, living in a bubble-world created and maintained for them by people like Andrew Young. This guy's sycophancy is profound. Profound and revolting. If you're not up on this gossip, he's the guy who was JE's closest aide for years, he facilitated JE's long affair with Rielle Hunter and helped him keep it secret, and he finally claimed paternity of Rielle Hunter's baby when JE asked him to. Young seems to have very little sense of himself as an independent moral agent. He repeatedly says that he found Edwards's behavior wrong and "repulsive," yet nowhere does he recount any time where he confronted him or expressed disapproval. And as for John Edwards, good grief. That shit is bananas. Just like Gwen Stefani said.

In my own bedroom I'm still reading The Swan Thieves by Elizabeth Kostova. It's good. Not as good as The Historian, her first novel, but I'm very into it. I'm halfway through, and I cannot figure out what on earth is going to happen. Part of the reason I'm so mystified is that I can't decide what genre of novel this is. You know how, the genre governs the range of possible directions the plot can go in? Like, if you are reading a fluffy mom lit novel, like Slummy Mummy (hilarious), the heroine is not going to deal with her animosity towards her fellow room mom by having the woman whacked. Likewise, a magical dome is not going to descend over her town, stranding her antagonist on the outside. So, with Swan Thieves, I can't figure out what might happen because I can't figure out what genre this is.

And is it weird that one of my favorite writers right now writes for Gawker? If you're not reading Richard Lawson's essays and recaps of popular television shows, they will make your life more fun. I no longer watch those "Real Housewives" shows, but I read his recaps and they make me laugh my face off. He is like a frackin' virtuoso of tone. Much more fun than watching the actual stuff he's talking about. Read any of the Real Housewives recaps, though the Orange County and New Jersey ones are especially choice.

New Vampire Weekend album, Contra: I like them, and I kind of like a few songs on this, except it turns me off the way, in that one song "Horchata," they rhyme "horchata" with "aranciata." I mean, not that those words don't rhyme, but they just seem so pleased with themselves for thinking of it.

Gap jeans in "Perfect Boot." I think these are awesome jeans. Reader, would you like to see a picture of my butt? What's that you say? Oh, I have one right here.

These were the Perfect Boot jeans right out of the package, in all their unstretched-out goodness. I am telling you, it's all about the pocket placement, and these people are geniuses of it. The other thing about these is that they're what Gap calls mid-rise, which means they are a few fingers below my belly button but still above the love handles. Or side muffins or whatever you call them.

Yes, I asked Matt to take some pictures of my new jeans so I could show my sister on Myfitnesspal.com (if you're on there, lemme know and I'll friend you!), I wasn't thinking I would post them on my blog. But since I'm giving you the summary judgments and all. Reader, I feel so much closer to you now! The white jeans are cute, even though they're "distressed," grrr, but I don't have pics of those yet. Anyhoo, I do recommend the Perfect Boot. The Curvy is too low for me, but the Long 'n Leans are also good.

Ooh, the new Masterpiece Theatre of Emma. I'm late to this party, since the third part ran on February 7, but I had it dvr'd. Some of the recent Masterpiece Austens have been a little limp (that Mansfield Park last year, snore), but this one is delightful. Johnnie Lee Miller plays Mr. Knightly and he is adorable. I like that it's a longer film and doesn't cram the whole story into two hours. Watch it if they rerun it near you.

I think there was more but I'm sure we're all sick of me by now. Have a good night y'all! Laura is so excited that women's figure skating is coming on tonight.