Herb, I think that woman's in her PJ's

Moments ago I almost pulled the trigger on a pair of coral skinnies. It was a close call.

This morning I spent some time reading blogs to see what's going on. Truth be told I don't get to do that as often as I used to, but when tax prep is the alternative it's amazing how suddenly there's a lot more time than I thought. Hmmmm. Anyway, after perusing several blogs I found myself thinking I needed this pair of denim.

I don't.

In fact, and this may strike as blasphemy here in blogland given the current trend, I don't really care for colored denim. It looks cute on other people, but the one red pair in my closet is enough for me.

Where am I going with this?

A few days ago I was talking to a friend about the pitfalls of blogging. I explained how last year I found myself really struggling to find more than a few things in my closet that I loved to wear. We all have those I have nothing to wear days, but it was more than that. I found myself disconnected from my wardrobe, having purchased things that no longer represented me. It was a wake up call.

Reading blogs can turn into mini shopping sprees. Real live women showcasing outfits in real time. If I see enough of them in the same trend I sometimes catch myself thinking maybe I should try it, even though it's not my style at all. Don't get me wrong: it's good to be encouraged to take a risk now and then, but it should still represent your aesthetic.

I wasn't going to post these pictures, but after nearly slipping from the precipice this morning I decided to pull them out. Yes, I wear loungewear in public. Rather frequently, in fact. It stems back to kindergarten when I insisted on wearing my cherry red sleeved baseball pj shirt with the kid drawn house and stick figure family, complete with floofy apple tree, on front to school. Regularly. Until I broke both wrists after slipping from some hay bales, getting casts and then having to have the sleeves cut off my beloved shirt in order to get out of it. Would've hated to be in my mom's shoes that day. Think flood of tears.

Getaways: that time others only stare minimally when they see you

roaming around in broad daylight wearing what they suspect is your nightgown.

A full suite of accessories will cause them to ponder.  

Disregard the looks of mild to moderate confusion.  

Just grin and carry on. 

~Vest: M2F, Dress:  Saturday/Sunday, Boots: Jeffrey Campbell~

Take in some lawn sport where you realize neither of you know how to use the 

color features on the camera and you might resemble an alien.  

And you need an arm workout?

See if there's a party going on. It might be a pajama party, after all.

Seriously though.  I'm not saying I'll never catch a trend and I'm certainly not saying all I ever wear is pajamas (uh maybe?), but I am saying it's important to remember who you are.  I'm happy to report I've rediscovered my footing and am allowing the wardrobe pendulum to swing again in a way that is true to me. Stand by for more jeans and pjs? Maybe even with a flat and a blazer. But most importantly mixed with pieces I love to wear just as much now as when they were purchased.

Why don't you tell me how you really feel about it?

On Saturday I rolled into the kitchen decked out in one of my usual outfits of choice: faded, ripped up slim jeans, a white t and a pair of ankle boots. It was an exciting day: this pair of ankle boots is new. And it has buckles. What can I say? It's the little things, people.

As I glanced sideways in the mirror while strolling down the hall, something seemed off. I stopped, turned, walked back and stood there a moment assessing the situation. Hmmmm. Back in the kitchen (really I'm still on the first entrance but gave you a little context) I say to the Chef, who is so kindly assisting with litterbox duty, 'Dude. Does something about this say Peter Pan?' To which he responds by looking up and proceeding to double over in laughter, 'No, no! I actually never would have thought that. But now that you say it...' Well now.

Taking it back down the hallway I trade out the jeans for a slightly slimmer and much darker pair. Victory. Balance. No Neverland for me today, after all. Turning to the Chef I say, 'Better, right?' Not so much a question, but rather an eyerolling whew.

To which he turns to me straightfaced and says, 'Yeah, but you might want to give your skallywags another roll.'

Everyone's a comedian.

~Details: random t, Current/Elliott-Jeans, Vintage-Belt, Joie-Boots, TK-Bag, Anthro-Sunglasses~

~Vanessa Mooney-Necklace and Bracelets (L), Low Luv-Thunderbird, MarcxMarc-Coil Ring, 

Made With Love-Blue Bracelets~

Childhood pastime: taking a moment to observe the ants. They've got it down.

Skallywags? Reeeeally now?

Here I am demo'ing how I crush his head (kids in the hall voice)...

HAHAHA! I kid, I kid!!

Between The Lines

The incomparable Carey Mulligan in Never Let Me Go

Since we took the desert getaway last month I've been in a pretty zen place trying to maintain better balance in my life. Inside time vs outside time, reading vs watching some tv, work vs down time. I'll just go ahead and state the obvious:it's a lot easier said than done. I'd go so far as to say, at least for me, it takes some focus and deliberate action to stop working, stop watching tv (I am on a reality hiatus though!) and give myself permission during the work week to go outside and get some fresh air. Ahhhh the joys of working at home.

Something I've been trying to do on the weekend is leave my immediate neighborhood and explore another. For some reason it's so refreshing and helps me return with a fresh perspective, despite the pile of laundry still waiting upon my return. This weekend we went on an antiquing adventure in a neighboring city. There was no set agenda and we mostly wandered, but that time spent amongst other people's old things was really great. Everything has its own story, belonged to people who had their own stories and if we took anything home, helped add to that journey. This must be what getting old is because I spent a lot of time dawdling around thinking about where things must have come from and what they must have lived through.

Fresh off our antique adventure, the Chef zipped off to work and I sat down to scan for a good movie. Enter Lars and the Real Girl. I've easily seen it 10 times, yet every time I gather some new nugget that changes the way I think. Continuing on in movie mode, I caught Never Let Me Go just as it started and dove right in. Far from lighthearted and much more gut wrenching, I sat as riveted as the first time I saw it in the theatre and went to bed that night completely content. Good movies are like good books: they're almost better the second and third time around.

For some reason Monday was a brutal day. You know those days you open your eyes and just know it's coming for you? Yeah. One of those. By 5pm I was so past done it was all I could do to make it down the hall and crawl under the covers, blankets over my head. As I laid there in the semi-dark I couldn't help wishing Zoila (Jeff Lewis's housekeeper) would appear, turn on the tv and put in a season of Felicity to wash my less than stellar day away. As I continued lying there--no Zoila in sight--it donned on me: after all these years I still love for someone to tell me a story. I've been an avid reader my entire life, spent many a childhood night reading by flashlight after lights out, and count books amongst my dearest friends. Somehow getting lost in a well-written story, wherever it's coming from, helps me get centered and feel less alone, more connected.

Light at the end of the tunnel before I threw in the towel and went to bed at the same time as a second grader.