I like to think I have a certain something when it comes to fashion. When I dress for the day, I put a little thought into the outfit. I have style of sorts. (Somedays that style is Strung Out Rodeo Clown, but I digress.)

My well-traveled, fashionista friend, Sylvia posted her own list compared to Nina Garcia's The One Hundred: A Guide to the Pieces Every Stylish Woman Must Own. I don't know Ms. Garcia, but I think I can take a pass on some of these. I've bolded the ones that I lack. And commented more than necessary, perhaps.

Which ones do you have? )

I have 78 out of a hundred. And 16 out of the 22 I don't have, I just don't have any desire for.
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persephone33: (Extremely stubborn and suspiciou)
( Jul. 6th, 2011 08:49 pm)
It's hot. Like Africa hot.

I know it's summer and I live in Texas, but every year I'm always surprised by how hot it is. This year is exceptionally hot. And because I live in Amarillo, it's windy, too. And there's a drought, so every time I step outside it's as if someone's trained a hair dryer on me. It's just gross, is what it is.

However, let me just say praise God for air conditioning. I've been sewing blankets and a quilt for a friend's baby shower, and the thought of covering up a baby with them right now makes me actually break into a sweat. (I also made a dozen kitty cat tails for Ethan's theatre camp. All that did was make me smile.)

Despite how hot it's been, I've spent the last week looking for a fall outfit to wear for this magazine interview/photoshoot I've got tomorrow morning. (The article comes out in September, so I thought wearing a sleeveless sundress wouldn't be quite right.) Do you know how hard it is to find a fall outfit when it's a BILLION degrees outside? It's almost nine o' clock in the evening right now, and it's still like the surface of the sun out there.

Anyhow, so I bought a fall dress. It's really cute. But the thought of actually putting it and a pair of boots on and then going outside makes me want to die a little.

Yet I will. Because being cute and in season is important.

Probably. A little.

You sweat for your art, is what it all boils down to.

Feel free to quote me on that.
I could start this out a lot of different ways; I could tell you about the business part of the trip, or why we went, or whether or not it was successful, but I'm going to cut to the chase and tell you what was really important on this trip.

I went shopping.

Heck, yeah, I did. It was the most successful (read: expensive) shopping excursion I've been on in years. I was able to buy everything in smaller sizes, and really, that might account for some of the bulk of the purchases. (Carrie gets a little giddy about single digit sizes.) I spent an hour and a half in Anthropologie. I got a very fancy, kelly green, ruched dress, a blue and green patterned dress that is nine kinds of cute, and this little piece of amazing, right here. It might be my new favorite piece of clothing, ever. In fact, I don't think I'll save it for special events. The grocery store? Check. Teaching class? Right-o. Dance rehearsal? I think I will, thank you. I also got this, this and two pairs of these. Because you haven't lived 'til you've worn the boyfriend jean from the Loft.

Fine, maybe you've lived, but you haven't lived in super cute, comfy jeans.

Point of interest regarding retail shops: When did they start playing loud, obnoxious music to the point that you can actually feel your teeth vibrate in your head? I've really decided that the music is the go-to factor in deciding whether or not I'm too old to shop at a store. If they're blasting something that spills out into the area 10 feet outside the closed shop doors, you can bet I'm not going in. If they're doing that and they've pumped some sort of perfume/cologne combination to linger around the area while you shop, then I'm not going in times two.

If I were a math-minded person (not that that's something that I will ever be, or to which I even aspire, for that matter) I would make a graph, or a Venn diagram or something super smart looking and clever to illustrate my point. But alas, you go un-illustrated, dear reader. The cleverness is at an all time low, over here. Try to cope.

And my last little bit of information is this: I come home from this four day trip to a mountain of laundry. Inevitable, I know. I'm not complaining (much). However, as I pull the boys' dirty clothes out of their overnight bags, I realize that Ethan wore MY jeans on Monday. He had to have; they had grass stains all over the knee, and I think you and I both know (with the exception of one or two select activities) that is something that would never happen while I was wearing them. Ever. Now, thanks to calorie counting and denying myself the basic rights of Twix bars, I am smaller, and I'm happy about that, but there is no way on God's Earth that the eleven year old boy and I wear the same size. (Old Navy "Flirt" size ten vs Boys 12 slim.) Perhaps I should clarify. There's no way we wear the same size AROUND. In length, sad to say, his legs are as long as mine. Thank GOD I married a tall man. The boys have a shot at not being midgets. They also have big feet, because the same eleven year-old has snaked my red Converse for himself. It started out as a special occasion - "Mom? Can I wear these?" - and now he just keeps them in his room. Same size foot. At age eleven. I'd like to say that I have really dainty feet and that's why, but nope. I wear between 7 - 7 1/2, which is a man's 5.

That was a long, nebulous story that had absolutely no impact on anything resembling importance. Apologies all around. And enjoy your Wednesday, folks.
persephone33: (CARRIE)
( Jun. 9th, 2010 09:17 am)
My mother actually sent me two emails asking me to blog so that she wouldn't have to look at dismembered doll heads when she pulled up my livejournal. I thought those were creepy/funny/weird. I had no idea that it would affect some people the way it did. Sorry 'bout that.

Have a creepy/weird/funny icon, instead.

I gotta be me.

I've had a great couple of days. Not being sick really, really rocks. It makes you completely grateful for good health. Thank you GOD for good health, amen.

The boys are at theatre camp this week. It's the theatre I work for, and it's a day camp, and the theme is Dr. Seuss. Ethan is in the 'Horton Hears a Who' show, and AJ is in 'Green Eggs and Ham.' The performance for the week is on Saturday. Any takers? :D

Nolan's been out of town for the past few days. In Nebraska. For work. That's the extent of my knowledge. I did manage not to advertise that I'd be alone beforehand this time, though, so that's progress. (Right mom? Progress? Give me an attagirl or something.) And even better? The boys spent the night with their grandma and grandpa last night, so after taking them out there, I went and got a pedicure, did a little shopping (2 cute dresses that I tried on back in April and didn't fit and now that I've lost weight, they do! AND they were on sale!), got take out for dinner, had a bubble bath and watched Glee without anyone telling me it was stupid, lame, or asking me why that guy's voice is so high, and then watched three back to back episodes of last season's True Blood (complete guilty pleasure) while snuggled in bed. And I got to sleep until I just... woke up. Bliss.

So... I'm all caught up on "me" time. What's going all with you? Everyone enjoying your summer?
&hearts Old downtowns that have too many one-way streets confuddle my limited driving skills.

&hearts I will park two blocks away from the building to which I need access just so that I don't have to go through the humiliating horror of parallel parking.

&hearts The new Body By Victoria bra from Victoria's Secret is a marvel of modern engineering and should be declared the eighth wonder of the world.

&hearts When you go into the mall with money, with every intention to buy yourself a new dress, you will find only matronly lace monstrosities or horrifically short miniskirts that do not flatter your figure, no matter how hard your bra is working.

&hearts Li, the pedicurist at Q Nails gives one heckuva a foot massage. I want her to move into the guest room.

&hearts A large Diet Coke from Sonic cures a multitude of ills.

&hearts Dean Winchester is the undeniably the coolest character on television since The Fonz.

&hearts I am BESIDE myself waiting for Thursday's 100th episode of Bones. Like GIGGLY about it.

&hearts I'm ridiculously excited about leaving town this weekend with my husband. Even if it is just a business trip. A resort in San Antonio is still a resort.

&hearts Laundry is perpetual. Eternal. Infinite.

&hearts You can never think of anything really profound for the last bullet point, thereby leaving your audience feeling a bit cheated at the end of the post.
There is nothing like the feeling of standing in a Dillard's department store dressing room with that damnable unflattering florescent lighting and ill painted walls that make your reflection in the mirrors (that have to be some they got from a frickin' funhouse) pallid and wan.

You stand and gaze at your reflection, willing yourself not to flinch, and inspect the piece of lingerie that you have on. You know that you will wear said piece of lingerie for thousands of people, and it's enough to make you seriously consider MacGuyvering your vacuum cleaner hose into a makeshift liposuction device and getting after some of the cellulite on your thighs. It's definitely enough to make you steadfast on sticking to your diet. It's enough to make you regret everything you ever put in your mouth... like... ever. Ever, ever, ever.

*sigh*

I think I've managed to find something provocative without being slutty.

Which is a sentence I couldn't have predicted writing before a month ago.
persephone33: (Oscar Wilde shops)
( Jun. 11th, 2008 12:13 pm)
I seem to be better since the last post.  Thanks for all the well wishes. It's nice to know that people care.

Have been shopping a LOT.  Have lots of cute new things.  :D

The boys won the putting contest in their respective golf classes.  Tiger Woods, y'all.  Look out.  They get to play 3 holes in the morning.  They're pretty excited.

I'm going to visit my college roommate tonight with her kids, and I'm pretty excited about that.

For now, we're off to the pool and the quilt shop (Mom's making me a wall hanging for my living room - Score!)

It is a TOUGH life I lead, I tell you. 
So far so good.

 I was busy having what I've come to call a "Pansy" day; I had a facial at Minka's Garden (very nice spa-thing), went shopping and bought myself two pair of pants (they were under $15 each - Old Navy ROCKS, even if I did have to come home and hem one of them) and a Green Cashmere Sweater that wasn't. (What's with the wide leg pants at Old Navy?  I'm 5'2".  I cannot pull off wide leg pants.  I look ridiculous.)  I'm sure that makes me a bad person, I don't care- it looked fabulous.  I had my nails done by my very sweet Vietnamese manucurist guy, who tries to chat with me, but I can't understand any of it - the only Vietnamese that I know comes from Dad, who was a ground interpreter for the Marine Corps during the War.  I think what I know translates to "Get out of here!" and "Mix packet of soup with water."

I digress.  

I was having a lovely day, doing some heavy thinking (About a [profile] caliga_rpg post that's unwritten as of yet, but is supposed to be posted soon), nodding and smiling (well- not scowling, perhaps), generally full of cheer (for me), and I seat myself at the nail dryer-thing (the UV light that you're stuck under for 8 minutes til your polish dries).  And this woman strikes up a conversation.  Which is fine.  (Question:  Do I have a face that says 'please dump all your problems on me?  Or unload heavy, life changing issues here, please?  I'd be interested to know.)  We talked Christmas shopping, pleasantries, are you from here? (Because NO ONE is at Christmas time; every po-dunk town from 200 miles around comes HERE to shop at Christmastime because we're stranded in the middle of a Godforsaken desert but THAT's a rant for another day.)  Anyway, in the 8 minutes I was under the dryer, she managed to tell me that she was in town for a funeral, a 15 year-old boy (Her best friend's son) had committed suicide.  She started crying, I got chillbumps and teary (SO not me), very nearly lost it completely, but somehow managed to say something vaguely encouraging to her.  She thanks me, tells me that she feels better having got all that out, and that she'll be stronger at the funeral now, gets up and leaves, and I'm left with the knowledge that we are put here, in the situations that we go in and out of every day for a purpose. I am so very grateful for my husband, my family, for their health, for my friends, (rl and online) my life, and I ought to thank God a whole lot more than I do for the blessings I have.

All because I'm shallow and vain, and missed my earlier nail appointment because I was trying on freakin' wide leg pants.  *nods*  It's all in the plan, y'all.
So I bought stuff today.  A LOT of stuff.  I spent a lot of money that wasn't mine (or at least didn't come directly out of my personal checking account).  I think I got about $600 worth of CG's for the company Christmas party and 10 'girly gifts' per Nolan's request.  I suppose the wives aren't being fairly represented by all of the other gift certificates.  I have more to do tomorrow, but look at what I bought for me:


So I will be all kinds of cute at the company Christmas Party.  Where no one will sit with us, because no one likes the boss.  *sigh*  Luckily, I have other friends, and there are major perks to sleeping with the boss.  *wink*

So I'm at the mall today trying on that dress, and I couldn't get it zipped by myself.  I sigh heavily, and go out of the dressing room to find a salesgirl to help me out, and while she was zipping me, popping her gum and rolling her eyes, this little old woman (like in her 70's) comes out of the dressing room in this truly hideous jacket.  That's she's trying on.  I give the three-way mirror a glance, decide the dress is for me, (Because I'm a purchaser, not a shopper) and head back to put my clothes back on.  The woman smiles at me and tells me that the dress is pretty, and pleasantries are exchanged, blah, blah.  Anyway, she asks me what I think of her jacket, ( she was singing in a Christmas pageant, and had to have a  jacket tonight) and I panicked a little, because, truly, if she was my grandma, I would've ripped it off her and stomped on it, and maybe, maybe set it on fire.  It was that bad.  

I said something innocuous, I honestly don't remember what...  I didn't lie, but I wasn't exactly truthful, either, because that would've sounded something like, "No.  Exactly how many turkeys were destroyed to make that jacket?"  Anyhow, I get dressed and come back out of the dressing room, and the little old lady is standing there, looking helplessly at all these jackets.  The salesgirl (who by now has put on her ipod and is texting someone) is obviously going to be of no help to this woman, so I sigh and go over to her.  I helped her picked out four jackets that would go well with her coloring, and she went in to try them on.  I went to buy the dress, nearly beheaded the salesgirl (she would have totally never seen it coming) and in the mean time, the little old lady comes out of the dressing room and shows me her stuff.  After my transaction, I went back over to help the little old lady (who's name was Audrey, btw) make her final decision, and she started crying a little, and told me that her daughter and grand-daughter hadn't had time to come and shop with her today, and that me taking time out of my day meant a lot to her.   

And then she hugged me. 

So I almost started crying in the middle of Dillard's, which, you know, is really SO not my style.

And then I remembered that not all people are giant throbbing asses, and that I shouldn't want to be one myself, either.  

Merry Christmas, y'all.

 

 Tired of feeling moody and cranky and generally recalcitrant?

Try Carrie's sure-fire "Make You Feel Better" Trifecta:


1.  Pedicure/Manicure - what's not to love about pretty feet?  Seriously, these are worth the cash.  Skip lunch, and go have one.  You will not regret it.

2.  A Diet Coke (or your soda of choice) from Sonic Drive In.  Crunching the ice is therapeutic.  And, if it's not to weird for you, you can pretend that it's the bones of all the people that piss you off.  (Oh, my.  My dark side is showing.  Sorry, Mother.)  And if you don't have a Sonic near you, I am terribly sorry.  The ice is really first rate.

3.  Retail Therapy - I bought myself some nail polish, a candle, a new shower curtain and a tablecloth.  Good times.

I also did a little writing with

[personal profile] seegrim, that always cheers me considerably, I wrote some more of Chapter 5 of Marrying Pansy Parkinson, and sent the first package for this meme.  [personal profile] goddessvicky should get her box of goodies on Halloween!  Yay.

And happy birthday wishes to [profile] ladyendymion.  I hope everything is well for you and your family, and that your birthday is fabulous!
I do not even know where to begin.

First, I was away from the fandom for 3 days, and I totally missed that book 7 is coming out in July.  All kinds of pleased about THAT.



I managed to go shopping while I was there, and got some bowls for the kitchen, a new purse, a teapot, some tea infusers, and candy for the boys and Hubby.  Also got hubby valentine boxer shorts for the upcoming holiday, although I might give them to him sooner, he's having surgery today, poor lamb.



The weather can bite me, as well.  It snowed last night.  Again.  It snowed while I was in Dallas.  It snowed on my 6 hour drive home yesterday.  I LIVE IN TEXAS!  Where's the heat?

Okay.  All done.  Everyone have a lovely weekend.
.

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