Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Misty Faded Memories

In my parents' house we have a lot of photo albums.  One of my favorite pastimes has always been  flipping through those old pictures to see my parents before they were married and then before they had me and my brother.  The hair people, the hair! As I've gotten older I've developed a keen interest in who my parents are and were as individuals, and then measuring myself against those characteristics to look for similarities.  No matter who we are, I think we all want to know where we come from.

My mom definitely carried on the picture taking tradition throughout my childhood.  We've got everything from first haircut to first day of school, mud pies in the field, the time my brother sat on my Barbie camper and squashed it (bloodcurdling shrieks), and teenage photos that basically entail a hand in the camera.  Thanks mom!  When I met Chris's parents for the first time, one of the things I noticed right away (aside from the cat paraphernalia--win) was their life on display throughout the house.  Not just formal family photos, but day-to-day type photos that spanned the years.  As we sat and talked, they shared vivid memories from those pictures that made for rich storytelling, and it's something I'll always remember.

This past weekend we were talking about how we basically haven't captured diddly squat of most of this past year on film. Or whatever it's technically called now. Time? WHO HAS THE TIME? Well you'll have a lot less of it if you can't remember it...SAD FACE.  Aside from time there's lugging around the camera.  Ever go to a restaurant supply store with a big ol' camera? Uh yeah, once. That's not happening again.  Rather than aiming for perfection we've decided to just Instagram or iPhone pic until we come up with a better solution. Or another hour in the day.

Scenes from this past Saturday:
I get a shot of my shoes on the way out the door. 
Moments later I'm at the restaurant. 
Okay not exactly moments later, but like around two hours later.
You see there was this pitstop at Target that entailed tribal print shorts and a maxi skirt...
soooooo I guess Target and I are back together then?

This is what we call '20 minute breaks in the car'. That time when you can talk freely and candidly about your day in an attempt to determine what needs to be returned to Target.  And whether or not you might need to come into the restaurant for Happy Hour after all.

Mix of my faves on the weekend: Monkey Sweater-Madewell, T-James Perse, Shorts-Current/Elliott, Necklace & Bag-Vanessa Mooney, Shoes-Arnold Churgin.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Manifest Destiny: The Ultimate Cat Lady

Let's begin with a confession:  I don't read fashion magazines.

Yep. There you have it.

Glossy pages filled with things I can't afford and, in most cases, aren't my style -- but that I then go on to try and collect because the magazine has somehow got me thinking I must have these items or I'll fade away into non-existence? Yeah, I don't do that anymore.  

But Grace at Stripes & Sequins has me thinking I may need to reconsider this non-conformist move.  Late this morning her site went down, but she had mentioned something about cats prior to it hitting the skids.  So this afternoon I meandered back over to see if she had DIY'd some sort of the ultimate homage to cats (if you aren't already aware, Grace is a DIY Queen) when I laid eyes on what might be the most magnificent layout of cats to ever befall the pages of any fashion magazine EVER.  Granted I wouldn't know, but I'm just going to go out on a limb. 

And who knows? Maybe everyone and their mother already knows about about it, but in case you're like me and haven't seen this splendiferous display: Images are from the pages of Vogue Italia (May 2008) via Stripes and Sequins via Fashion Gone Rogue

I advise all you cat lovin' ladies to lay down if you aren't already. Brace. Brace I tell you!
Here we have a jumper. *gulp*
Um, a herd. Can I be her? Wait, I am. 
But without the glasses. Ultimate accessory...aside from the herd, that is.
Cat at eleven o'clock. Wearing glasses. *dies*
Rats on head? No thanks. Cat on arm? Yes please.
Cats on the stairs. Cat MUG. 
Grey Gardens style.
Cat musicians. *cries*
OMG. They caught me in my wig.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Now THAT'S the American Dream

Sometimes I can get pretty overwhelmed.

By what, you ask?

Oh, well, everything.

As you get older interesting things happen, and I don't mean those lines around your mouth. What might have once overwhelmed you, things like making sure you have on just the right outfit or turning yourself inside out to get a mean person's approval, well those things oftentimes fade away. You're comfortable in your own skin, satisfied with who you are. Victory, right? In a sense, yes. It is a victory.

But other equally annoying things crop up in their place. Thoughts like, 'Damn I'm old, I need to buy a house!' and 'Did my friend just say her kid's in junior high? Do I even have any eggs left in the basket?!' Yeah, those annoying things. Thankfully the only eggs I'm thinking about right now are the ones I missed out on at Easter. But the house thing? I'll admit: I wouldn't mind my own personal space.  Free from neighbors who help themselves to my barbecue just as I'm about to barbecue. True story.

One of Southern California's saving graces is its apartments. A lot of them are chock full of character, and you can't help wanting to move every couple years when one of the good ones comes up for grabs. Remember this place? I've kept an eye on it since I first spotted it about 5 years ago. It has now been for rent for 2 months, so the other day I caved and stopped by to check it out when I saw the sign: No Pets. What do you mean NO PETS? Don't these people know cats are family? Fa-mi-lee.
There it is. Big windows waiting for my white couch just inside...perfect cat sunning perch.
Obviously someone else wasn't feeling the 'No Pets' hate because they turned that sign upside down.
 ~Details: Forever21-Blazer and Fringe T, Free People-Denim, Steve Madden-Platforms~
~Bracelets (L): Vanessa Mooney, VM. (R): PANYC. Necklaces: Vanessa Mooney & Low Luv~
~Rings: (L): MarcxMarc Coil, Low Luv-Bones, Handmade-Wire Wrapped. (R): Low Luv~

Can't do it y'all. Home is where the cats are.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

No Expectations

Sometimes the best things in life are the most unexpected.  Maybe because you go in with zero expectations, you can't be let down.  Maybe because it's fate that blindsides you leaving you giddy with excitement.

Of course this usually happens on a grander scale like a chance meeting with someone special or a dream job, but it happened for me this weekend when I met a dress.

Yes, I said a dress.

You don't understand.

I try to form friendships with more dresses. REALLY I DO. But they're all usually so boring. Or expensive. Or both. And those expensive dresses are so snooty.  They don't really want to come and hang out with me at the flea market or the beach or some hole in the wall restaurant we're testing. They want to go to da club. And I haven't seen the inside of da club in a looooong time. Not long enough as far as I'm concerned.

So anyway.  There I was on Friday: still kinda woozy from being sick most of the week, remnants of a headache lingering in the background, when suddenly I decide maybe a little fresh air is in order. Next thing you know I'm in the Free People dressing room lying down on the little sofa wondering why I decided to leave the house again listening to throngs of girls go on and on and on about they neeeeed this or that item because they're on their way to Coa-chel-la so 7 to 10 day delivery won't work for them. They're on their way now don't you know?? zzzzzzzzzzzz

I'm trapped. I can't leave. I'm lightheaded.

Despite the fact that we are in the midst of a torrential rainstorm complete with thunder and lightning, tank tops and skimpy shorts, bandeaus and bandonts are being tossed around like rag dolls. It's 48 degrees! What are these people thinking? Why is that girl's mother paying for a pile of what appears to be bras for her 15 year old daughter to wear to Coachella? How is that girl getting there?  She needs a JACKET. I've turned into my mother.

Somehow I manage to wait out the mob. You know, by holding up a fitting room for 30 minutes while the shopgirl laughs maniacally every time she slides open the curtain to see if I'm still alive. Thank goodness for being a regular customer or mall security might have been helping me to my car.  

As I'm making my way to the exit I peer into H&M: people people everywhere. Nope. Can't do it.

I glance across at Zara:  clothing lying all over the floor and lines reminiscent of Holiday. Uh-uh.

Just as I'm about to admit defeat, I see it.

After telling myself repeatedly: there is nothing in there for you, there it is hanging in the Madewell window:  the striped dress. I'm not even really on the stripe wagon, but something about these stripes is different. 

And my friend is working there now?  It's a sign.  

She tosses me into a room with the dress and a denim shirt  (a good friend always knows)...

Cut to scene and I've made a new friend. I want to hang out with it every day. And by hang out I mean wear it from sun up until sun down.  I love it so much I might need two.  Kismet.
~Details: Madewell-Dress & Denim Shirt, Brandy & Melville-Fringe Bag (similar), Joie-Booties~
~Vanessa Mooney-Necklace, Bluma Project (similar), Motif 56 and PANYC-Bracelets~

All I got was Instagram because I parked it on the couch for most of the weekend. I look forward to committing the ultimate blogging offense and wearing the dress on here again.  Perhaps even a couple more times. *gasp*

Thursday, April 12, 2012

All My Dreams Are Coming True

Not that long ago I walked into Anthropologie and came face to face with my dream home.  It was a moment.  Back in January I passed up a childlike version at the flea market because, well, let's face it--I'm not the size of a 7 year old anymore.  Secret's out. 

All my life I've been drawn to teepees. Tepees. Tipis. However you want to spell it I'm in.  Or I want to be anyway.  Did you hear that shout from the west late last night?  It was me.  Bedridden and perusing the internets when lo and behold I fell upon the Cowboy Teepee tent.  

ACK! (or whatever sound it was I made) Probably more like *gasp!!*

Taking it to the phone lines I alerted my mom and the Chef to see if either of them would like to come through for me in my hour of need.  We'll see who gets here first.  Or if I have to take matters into my own hands.  
I think I'll set mine up on the deck and toss in those boho pillows from last year
and of course BLANKET!!
I can see me in it now.  
It looks incredibly cat friendly, too.
It has cowboy print!! 

A hearty THANK YOU to Cath Kidston for her creative genius.
My inner 7 year old is feeling the love.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

But Mo-om I Don't Want to Wear Pants


That glorious time when you pull out the floral prints and wear them with glee.  That time when strolling around in denim shorts is no longer met with the looks of bewilderment you encountered during your weather denial phase in December. That time when maybe you shouldn't have been so eager to jump around in sandals and bare legs over the Easter weekend because the allergy attack you thought you were having despite never having had one of that nature before has actually turned out to be the flu.


It was fun while it lasted.
Spring uniform.
~Low Luv Rings, Vanessa Mooney Bracelets, Thrifted Belt, TK Bag~

That's all I've got. Back to bed.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Sanity Used to be a Friend of Mine

I'm going to let you in on a little secret: last week I thought I might lose my mind.

As one of those people who likes to have most of their ducks in a row there are certain things I can live with short term:  the house being a bit of a disaster, the car needing a wash and laundry lingering for three days in the dryer...provided that my work is going smoothly and the tax papers are in order as the time draws near.  Two things to manage. Shouldn't be that difficult. Or something. mumble mumble

Early last week I got a call from the accountant's office reminding me the appointment was a week earlier than I thought.  After dropping one or two cuss bombs and apologizing profusely while the woman laughed wildly on the other end, I proceeded to hang up the telephone and commence wiping my armpits.  In the closet were several bags of papers that needed some of my attention.  As in ALL of it.  Ten months of shoving papers in shopping bags and stuffing them into the closet where you don't have to think about them results in, well, a lot of papers.  Right around that time I began having to deal with a *ahem* difficult work relationship (which I will refrain from speaking about here for obvious reasons), but suffice it to say this person has left me feeling as though they would like to dig a hole and toss me into it.  Being the daughter my parents raised me to be, I took it upon myself to turn myself inside out in order to win the person over.  Because, you know, after having put that useless tactic to rest over a decade ago, it might be worth another shot. Or not.

Friday arrived to find my nerves in a knot and 5 bags of papers breathing down my neck. Despite my best efforts it meant no Good Friday service for me which basically broke my heart and left me feeling like kind of a failure as a Christian.  I mean it's one of the BIG days and I can't even mend the fence with a hater and have the papers organized?  Two things. TWO THINGS. Taking it to the deck I powered through a ton of papers getting a major burn on my neck, only once having to chase a stack of windblown receipts down the back alley in my pajamas. Success.

Cut to scene and there I was Saturday afternoon: two thirds through the papers, hair in a nest, 78 degree sunshine beaming through the window.  I could see the finish line.  'IT'S EASTER WEEKEND!!,' I half screamed-half whined to myself before tossing on a hat and taking it to the beach.

At this time I would like to confirm that the ocean can pull you back from the ledge.  

All it takes is a kid throwing wet sand all over you to bring you back to what really matters in life.  Wind in your hair, butt in the sand, and whatever's left in the Russell Stover's chocolate stash at CVS to help you gas through that last bag of receipts and sail victoriously through to the appointment.
Gap-Fisherman Hat (waaaay old), James Perse-T-shirt, Antik Batik-Belt as Necklace,
Vanessa Mooney-Necklace, Current/Elliott-Shorts, Rainbow-Flip Flops
Mix of Vanessa Mooney and PANYC Bracelets, Low Luv and Handmade Rings. 
aka taking your safety blanket to your happy place and parking it.
Wind in my hair

And after almost two weeks an actual post.  I swear I have things to say and say them out loud, but the cats can't type. Yet.


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