The Hair Chronicles

Friends I would like to formally announce 'Victory on the Hair Front'.

Yesterday I woke up with a crick in my neck (truth be told I had one before I went to bed and was so wound up I could barely turn to the right, but panic attacks aside...) feeling like it was the day of a big exam.  Thankfully I'm way out of University, but clearly my body remembers the terror/exhilaration just as though it was yesterday.  My appointment was for 1pm.  Picture it:  me breaking out in a sweat and fanning the underarms at top speed.  Suddenly the phone rings:  appointment pushed back to 1:30.  Whew!  Perspiration instantly subsides.  Imagine that.  Shortly thereafter phone rings again:  appointment pushed back to 2:00.  I'm feeling like going outside for a stroll.  What am I thinking?!?

Next thing you know it's go time.  I hop in the car and head south.  Wait a second--why is everyone stopping?  Why am I sitting here, on PCH in the middle of nowhere, at 1:35pm?? What's that?  A commercial being filmed.  Oh hell no.  Not today.  Yes today.  Cut to 15 minutes later and I'm now jammed on another part of the highway for 'road construction' aka a bunch of guys standing around twiddling their thumbs all day long while three lanes go down to one for what seems like eternity.  I call the salon, 'I could be 10 minutes late. I'm jammed!' Attitude on the other end.  Yes.  I've been delayed an hour and now I get attitude.  I don't care.  I want my hair cut damn you!!

Five minutes late I run in having dropped only one eff bomb on the valet who announces, at the valet podium stand thing, that he's not taking anymore cars.  Then what the hell are you standing there for??  Wheeling through the parking lot like a crazy bird I find a spot, jump out and scream to the 16 year old valet kid:  'Sorry for the eff bomb, buddy.  I'm running late!'  He laughs.  Thank God for the youth.

Two hours later I emerge, triumphantly. The Hair Genius aka Dusty Simington has worked his magic.  I'm knot free AND he wanted to keep the length.  This is the sound of elation.  Exhilaration.  My hair swinging in the wind.  Can you hear it?

All I had was my phone to take pictures, but here it is in all its glory.

3.5 inches later I'm still standing.

Length intact, I can carry onward to a celebratory cocktail.

Speaking of which are we done yet?

Yes. We are.  I can now look forward to haircuts again.

Seeing as I sucked it on the blog posts this week here's a full outfit shot.

I went in prepared:  expressing my inner hippie and wrapped in fringe.

Security blanket.

Seriously though, not since my Canadian hair stylist (who I've seen for 20 years and still see when I go home) have I been so happy with my hair, the cut and the person who cut it.  I have fine hair but a lot of it, so most people can't understand how to cut and thin it out.  And once you've had a really good precision cut, anything less is just depressing (think dog ears).  Dusty killed it.  He's got a great eye, has cut hair for years and is hilarious.  I'd trust him to take it shorter--and that says a lot for someone who lost almost all her hair 8 years ago and has painstakingly grown it back.  Thanks for all your notes of encouragement on the hair front.  I was busting up at the tweets and facebook messages--it's a bird family affair! 

Have a great weekend everyone!

Twists and Turns--Hair and Otherwise

Remember last week when I was going on about work projects and eating cookies for breakfast, lunch and dinner due to busy schedule?  Well what a difference a week makes.  Suddenly it's dead in the water, deadlines having been met, and now there's an uneasy stillness in the air that has resulted in me spending far too much time perusing the internets obsessing over hairdos.  More specifically I've been freaking out about the impending haircut that will take place on Thursday.

Yeah, yeah it's superficial and the least of concerns seeing as people in the world need food, shelter and healthcare.  I get that.  And am actually among some of those people on the healthcare front, but that's another blog for another time.  This one's about life and hair and how to make sure I don't walk out looking like the victim of a drunken Edward Scissorhands (top 10 fave movies of all time).  Here's one of my issues:  I get to talking to the haircutter and before you know it we're laughing our heads off about something.  Cut to scene (aka my head) where I've not really voiced what I wanted therefore the individual has just kind of gone off willy nilly.  The next thing I know the blowdryer's on and it's kind of like opening a surprise gift:  you're hoping for the best, but bracing for what may turn out to be not the best whilst doing your best to paste on a smile that won't show your true feelings.  

Am I the only one who gets carried away talking to the hair people?  They're truly some of the most fun people out there in my opinion.  Anyway, I had my lid colored yesterday and it is absolutely beyond fabulous.  I can't unveil due to inability to take a picture of myself.  I just can't do it.  I feel like a cuckoo bird.  

Instead let us pause and have a moment together as I prep myself to maintain a level of seriousness on Thursday.  I'm focusing on the following pictures and chanting as follows:  "I'm in a hippie phase and don't want much taken off.  Please just bring some life and shape back to the hair."  In my more frenzied moments I practice, "Put those scissors down!! Didn't you hear me say I want no more than 2 inches taken off?!"

I don't even have this much hair to begin with, but this would be a dream hairstyle to me.

Somewhere Vanessa Hudgens remembers having these days--and curses her now short locks. 

Maybe not, but I can't help wondering.

This is pure magique--her, her hair, the straggly ends--all of it.

Yesterday's conversation with self went like this:  "I think I'll get bangs.  You can't get bangs.  Look at her bangs.  I wonder if I could pull off bangs?  No you can't.  Ever since your brother dropped that can on your head when you were five you can't get a proper part."

Hello ageless woman.  

Why does your hair never frizz?

 And can we please discuss how to replicate prior to Thursday?  

Either way the guy I'm going to is a hair genius and will probably do most of whatever he wants anyway.  A couple years ago he gave me a great cut so I'm looking forward to visiting him--albeit with a might bit of trepidation.  Wish me luck.  He's a cutter.  And I don't mean that in the self-inflicting pain way. If you have any other images I could share with him, please do feel free to suggest and/or forward.  The more focused I can be going in, the better chance I'll have of staying focused and selling my case for longer vs. shorter hair.  

Did I mention I haven't cut my hair since the end of December last year? Uh yeah, get there.  

Haunts

Falling in love with LA is something that's turned out to be a huge surprise to me.  The first couple years I lived in the city I seriously thought I was going to lose my sh*t.  Pushy people, everyone claiming to be an actor (as they help you try on your shoe or pass your tea over the counter), the snazziest car at the four way stop goes first--unwritten rules that I was unaccustomed to and, quite frankly, highly annoyed by.  Then around year three, once I started working for myself and had more free time (read: no longer chained to the desk for 12 hours/day), an interesting thing happened.  I would wake up in the morning and want to be in certain parts of town or at certain places.  And the things that once worked my nerve, well I didn't notice them as much anymore.

Cut to a couple years down the line when the Chef and I began doing dinner and a movie once a week, and the fascination grew.  We discovered some seriously great places, and after awhile developed a handful of favorites that became our top spots to hangout at for hours.  Apparently we weren't the only ones finding them either because we'd often run into the same people over and over. And after awhile some of those people became friends of ours.  This city is delightfully unexpected that way.

Yesterday we popped into a coffee shop that used to be relatively unknown, but is now kinda not so much.  We sat down to grab dessert and I glanced next to me to see the tiniest girl.  Suddenly it dons on me:  Ellen Page.  Juno in the house!  I loved her in that movie and also thought she killed it in Inception...Canadian too by the way and no I'm not usually a name dropper.  Anyway we're all sandwiched in elbow to elbow and I'm fighting everything in me not to turn and embarrassingly exclaim I think she's bomb (to which she'd probably be like, lady are you 53 years old with that terminology and do I know you?) when I hear one of her friends mention how pretty LA is.  And she responded with something along the lines of LA is a very pretty city--enchanting in its own way and in ways you wouldn't initially think it would be.  Kindred spirit.

And then the server brought my peanut butter banana cup cushioned in the flakiest pastry you ever did try.  The rest is a blur.

~Details:  Young, Fabulous & Broke-Vest, James Perse-V-Neck, Martin+OSA-Skinnies, 

Sorial-Bag (similar), Banana Republic-Boots (similar), Anthro-Sunglasses~

Passion Fruit Gelee + Peanut Butter Banana Cup + Lavender Lemonade + Decaf Espresso 

Low Luv x Erin Wasson-Necklace (sale!)

Red Denim and Lace

Lately almost every time I go to put an outfit together I'm faced with the reality that my wardrobe has begun to resemble what hung in my closet in the late 80's/90's.  Truth?  I'm not sure how I feel about it.  More often than not I'm tossing on a few outfits before finally settling on one, and somewhere in the process there is mumbling about Madonna.  Maybe some things are better left in the past?  The influence she had on fashion then--and consequently now--is undeniable.  When I see Lourdes running around in lace, droopy crotch pants and hightop sneakers it especially hits home.  Man it's crazy how fast time flies.

In any event, it was great to don my red denim again last night.  The biggest challenge I have with them is not enough tops.  Fortunately I was able to snag the best long sleeve lace top at Forever 21 back on that wonderful day when the lace blazer and I found each other.  I'm not one to be wearing a sheer lace t-shirt so I just layer a thin black tank beneath and head out.  Works perfectly.  Even better?  Remembered these awesome Steve Madden platforms I stalked down about a month ago...all sold out nationwide when there they were in Kentucky for about $30.  The last pair.  In my size.  Kismet! Just in time for the weekend.  Here's to a great one.

~Details:  J.Crew-Denim Jacket, Forever21-Lace T (similar), J Brand-Skinny Twill, 

Steve Madden-Platforms (similar on sale!), Free People-Sunglasses~

Cool, right?  He killed it on the camera last night.

And with that I bid you farewell until Monday.  Oh.  And just wait until I tell you about how Target is refusing to allow me to return an online purchase or even print up the online receipt to provide EVIDENCE of purchase (aside from the box it was mailed in, all the packaging, and the packing slip with my name and address on it *cough cough*).  Does anyone have any contacts higher up over there?  I'm at the end of my rope and just want a refund.  Ugh!!

Hark! A Denim Jumpsuit

I'd show you the link to where it lived on Free People except it blew out like

hot cakes and is gone.
Without A Trace.
(coincidentally one of my fave shows too btw). 

I have been doing such a great job of avoiding the fall fashions.  Clinging to my wallet.  Returning any crap that shows up from Missoni x Target (colossal waste of time).  Suddenly there it was.  Gleaming across my computer screen while some person or another talked on and on about something else that did not pertain to me (conference calls.  what's the purpose?).  No sooner did I click on the link and discover it was only still available in size Large when my dreams of doing Farrah Fawcett proud crashed to the the ground like a cz diamond shattered to bits on the concrete. Moments later size L also disappeared.  Thank God for pictures saved to the desktop.

Not to worry though.  Inspector Shoeseau is on the case.  Yes I realize it's a jumpsuit, but the premise is the same:  seek and find mission.  Denim jumpsuit at 12 o'clock.  

I've been meditating on this very article of clothing for months.  How is it that I missed an opportunity to make it a reality?  What was I thinking participating in Operation Wallet Conservation 2011?  Who am I and what have those chocolate chip cookies done to me?

Standby for a serious post.  One where I hopefully discover this item of beauty and bring it home to its rightful owner (that would be me).  The dream is still alive. Circa 1978.  Back when I didn't have cookies aka junk in the trunk.  Commencing le diet ASAP.

Off the Tracks. And a GF Chocolate Cookie Recipe

Prepare for a mad ramble.  Mayhem has struck at the bird.  I can't even remember what it was like to have daily posts planned a few days in advance.  What're those?

It's September and apparently what that means is people are serious about getting serious and that means I'm busy with work projects.  They come out of the blue.  One day I'm meandering around Target trying to figure out why the soccer moms had to buy up all of the darkest dark Ghirardelli chips, and the next I'm just grateful we managed not to eat every ounce of the cookie dough two days ago seeing as I'm now living on chocolate chip cookies as they're all I have the energy to make for dinner at 9pm.  And for breakfast at 7am.  True story.

Saturday night at, oh, 11pm I decided it was cookie time up in this dojo.  I had a big batch of gluten-free flour all  mixed up.  A refrigerator dive (like a closet dive only for frozen food) had produced a hidden bag of my fave Bernard Callebaut chips (hollar if you hear me Canadian peeps!) and it was go time.  Cut to scene and I'm passed out on the couch while the Chef rolls in asking why the oven's still on...woops! Dough's mixed, but in the fridge.  Sunday morning (or something) made for chocolate chip cookies for breakfast which is just fine by me.  And him too.  Jackpot.

Here's the thing though:  I didn't use all the dough at once.  I like a warm cookie.  Instead I make just enough (4 to 6 if I'm flying solo--fyi) and keep the rest in the fridge.  You know what this means though, right?  I'm all kinds of messed up eating warm cookies for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

As soon as I open the fridge in the morning, it calls out to me. 

'Make a cookie.'  Oh who am I kidding?  More like, 'Make 4 cookies.'

Who am I to argue?

By afternoon, 6 cookies deep and 40 phone calls later, that bottle

of wine isn't looking so bad either.  I kid! 

Do you have any idea how many times I've made 6 cookies "for the blog" and then proceeded

to eat them all without taking one single picture for 'the blog'? 

More times than I'd care to remember, thank you very much. 

Blame it on the deadlines?

AND THE PLATE.

THE PLATE MADE ME DO IT.

(just like that time I blamed a few purchases on Olivia Palermo even though she has no idea who I am)

And for the record--the cookies are not that small! 

Coincidentally neither is the ever increasing amount of, how shall I say, junk in my trunk. 

Confession:  Yesterday I ate 3 cookies, a radish, a small taco, another radish, a baby cucumber, 4 more cookies, a couple more radishes, a small piece of lasagna and 3 final cookies that I totally needed because it was the Season Finale of Teen Mom.  Can Maci and Ryan just get back together already?!?

Notice how I deflected that right off my clearly spelled out cookie issue?

Anyway, I have to roll off to bed because it's 1am and I actually feel sick from all the cookies I ate.  Time to go sleep off the sugar rush and prepare for morning consumption.

If you want the most killer chocolate chip cookie recipe evah use this one and if you're gluten-free just substitute my flour mixture (here) in place of the regular flour.  You can't tell the difference at all.  Should you try the recipe I will await your arrival at the Cookie Rehab Center.  I'll be the one with chocolate smeared on my t-shirt and the Lap Band ad in my hand.

Not pretty.  Not pretty at all.

Muted Tones

I'm on the verge of just renaming this one:  how many whacked out poses can he catch me in?  If I get time to post the outtakes over on FB prepare to pee your pants.

Anyway, yesterday was off the hook.  Slept in, lounged around for a couple hours and then had the.most.glorious. late day lunch (later followed by 8 homemade chocolate chip cookies, but who's counting?).  I know you're probably all, 'yaaaaaaawwwwwwwwn', but remember--we've not been able to do much of that for the past several months due to Restaurant Opening 2011.  Don't get me wrong--we're super happy to be in the midst of the experience, but it's still really nice to get in some quality time.  Remember last year when when the Chef and I ran the days with freedom?  Outfit posts aplenty?  Now we're just trying to get a full night's rest, comb our (respective heads of) hair and wear more than one pair of jeans a week.

*Digs through laundry pile on bedroom floor.* (only kind of joking)

On a serious note though:  was closet diving last week and came across a pair of Elizabeth & James suede heels I picked up a few years ago around the time one of my cats got hit by a car and had to have surgery on her leg.  It was a sad (and wallet crushing) time, but I kept the shoes anyway.  Then promptly forgot about them in the midst of all the chaos (long-time readers know my cats are my family!).  Serious jackpot moment upon rediscovering them the other day.  Long live the closet dive! And the late day lunch...

 I call this one the 'wait a second, is that an antique store over there?!

 As I was saying about the shoes....Uh, hello again friends.

Outfit details: Club Monaco-Silk Jacket (suede version here), Tucker x Target-Cami (polka dot), 

Martin+Osa (RIP)-Grey Skinnies, Elizabeth & James-Heels, Alexander Wang-Coco (Rocco)

I know you're thinking, 'dude we just saw the bag. enough already', but this is the best

I have of a jacket close-up. Picked up on sale a few weeks ago at Club Monaco...

wait until I use it in my Grease tribute.  Do you pick up that vibe?  

It's pony-taillllll time!!

Speaking of which--what on EARTH is going on with my lid?? 

Use a comb much?  Bid me good luck as I attempt to secure a half decent

haircut in the upcoming weeks.  It's akin to death around these parts.

Remember my orange locks in March when the parents visited?  

No?  Don't worry--I blocked it out, too.  PTSD

Fringe Files: Last Days of Summer

Here's a rare Saturday night post.  Not sure I've ever actually done one of these, but the Chef insists so here it is.  We were piecing through some Instagram pictures and came across this one taken on a super hot day a couple weeks ago.

Chef:  'Oh you have to put this one up for the Fringe Files.'

Me:  'Uh, okay.  Maybe this week.'

Chef:  'What do you mean this week?'

Me:  'I'm pretty sure no one wants to see me wearing the same fringe bag in every post.'

Chef:  'Hel-looo there's a fringe bag AND boots.' pause 'I mean, you have a fringy reputation to uphold.'

Who can argue with that logic?  You can tell there hasn't been a ton of time for snazzier pictures as of late.  Not that we ever had a fancier camera, but you know what I mean. These days it's a lot of hair in ponytail, Instagram on the fly and quality time spent together vs. la-de-da outfits and time spent on photos.  We're still getting in the groove of the whole restaurant schedule thing, but it's starting to get a little better every day.  Thanks for hanging in there.

~James Perse-Tank, Gap-Cami (best.things.ever), Martin+Osa (RIP)-Denim Mini,

Joie-Fringe Boots (sorry last year), Brandy+Melville Fringe Bag(similar)~

Probably the last you'll see of my bare legs for awhile.  Fall weather has arrived in SoCal and I spent the day wrapped in one of my fave old cashmere sweaters.  Soon I'll be wrapped in a Missoni x Target throw though...victory is mine!!

Scarred For Life: Missoni x Target

Okay maybe that title is a little melodramatic, but unfortunately kinda the way I'm feeling right now.  Yesterday was the day after zigzagmania and I managed to make it out of bed at, oh, noon--however a general feeling of malaise hung with me all day long.  Not getting any sleep the night before due to zigzag fever probably had something else to do with it.  I'm going to stop carrying on about this after today, but in the interest of telling you how I really feel will cut loose in this post.

It all started when the dreaded Target Style refused to say what time the ol' Missoni line would be released online.  They did little teasers like 'bright and early in the morning' and 'you can sleep for a couple more hours', but refused to specifically state a time--likely because they knew that mayhem was about to overtake their site.  Nevertheless that was the beginning of the end.  Around 3:15am I checked the site and got on with ease.  Like a fool I thought, 'hmmmm they must have planned because this is relatively seamless'.  Famous last words.  Cut to scene and there I was in the middle of checkout:  the beloved throw, an iPhone cover and one other item I can't remember due to PTSD when the damn site crashed.  Really Target? REALLY??

These words now evoke feelings of terror.

For the next 3 hours I attempted to get back into the site just to access my cart and check out with 3 measly items, but oh no.  That would have been asking too much.  During this time I also waited on hold for an hour for a customer service rep who could pull up my transaction and check me out.  Nada! When I finally got through she did, indeed, pull up my online shopping cart...but refused to assist me in the checkout process stating I had to wait until the site came back up.  Excuse me lady, but that's like other people butting in front of me in line, isn't it?  Meanwhile everyone and their mother was attempting to access the site and some of them apparently were able to do so because when I got back in at, oh, 7am the damn throw--the one thing I really wanted--was SOLD OUT.  Even better?  Ol' girl on the phone had given me a 'reference number' for when I would, inevitably, call back again to complain that the contents of my cart had been pilfered out from under me while I entered the security code from the back of my card during CHECKOUT as the site crashed.  That's how close I was!!  By the way...that reference number showed what had been in my cart when the site crashed.  And would always hold that screen shot according to her.  

Isn't that special?

They knew this was happening to thousands of people, but rather than honoring those of us who had waited our turn and made legit transactions they just ripped our merchandise out of our carts and let others run off into cyberspace with it...kind of just like the in-store experience so many people had.  They would politely put something in their cart, leaving other things for other customers, when the crazy eBayers and soccer moms would roll up, attempt to steal the goods, and run off into the men's fitting room to 'decide what they really wanted' aka ALL OF IT even if it wasn't in their size.  

By mid-day I was down from a raging fire to a smolder so took my crazy looking hair out to the car and zipped over to a local Target to survey the damage.  Zippo on the clothing due to the antics described in yesterday's post.  Everything had been pillaged by 8:05am leaving nothing except a few pairs of shoes.  One of those pairs happened to be knit flats in a size a little too big for my niece, but she'll grow into them. Examine the evidence:

Cute, right?

Why do I feel like throwing them against the wall?

By mid-afternoon I had made two transactions for two iPhone covers...finally one of those transactions went through.  Here's hoping the goods show up and the order doesn't get cancelled.  Maybe they'll accidentally send me the throw they owe me.  Yeah, right.  

I'm sure you're thinking 'oh get over it' and all I can say to you is, I will, but until I do you can talk to the hand.  Because if I had been standing in-store with 3 items and the register went down while I was in the process of waiting for my credit card transaction to go through no one would have been able to steal my stuff off the register.  Right?  Herein lies my real issue.  Pushers, shovers and store hoarders aside, the web experience was dismal.  And people who waited up all night, essentially waited for nothing.  And Target couldn't give a flying you know what.  THAT'S MY PROBLEM.  Why couldn't that customer service rep have checked me out?? Why could she look at my cart online, see the contents and refuse to check me out.  I mean she used a polite tone and asked her supervisor and everything...but at the end of the day left me to swing in the wind.

Well swing this!! *insert the bird* (I bet sponsors are just lining up right now *cough*).  The experience killed the desire for the line, which is really sad.  And now I want to heave those little shoes into outer space, but won't because I know my niece will love them.  And I almost got scratched getting them.  And I still want that stupid throw because I heard they are really nice. Ugh!!

Consolation:  today I found a very cool facebook page called Locked out of Missoni for Target - FAIR Trade Here.  People are listing items they are going to return or would be willing to trade for other items...and some of them will actually sell items to you at a reasonable price + shipping.  A wonderfully kind woman messaged me and may have a throw for me.  I'll keep you updated.  The ironic thing is this page has brought together, at least at this stage, fair and reasonable people who are not making things easy for the eBayers wanting to gouge.  I highly suggest heading over and 'liking' their page--if you'd still like something and your local store is sold out, someone there might have your item.  Target's customer service could learn a thing or two from the admins running the page.  And those ill-mannered shoppers could also stand to take a lesson from the way patrons are trading/selling goods amongst each other.  Word

Hit the Wall

This is approximately how I feel after dealing with Target online and in-stores yesterday.

Due to exhaustion and disgust I will post an update tomorrow.

In the meantime:

A big look of disdain to all the soccer moms who mowed through everything in local

Targets at 8am leaving nothing behind for anyone else to even try on

much less contemplate purchasing.  

Do ya really need one of each thing in multiple sizes? Really?

Two local Targets reported

incidents of grown women punching, slapping and grabbing items 

out of one another's hands.

Manners are dead in Southern California.

And I haven't even gotten to the online "experience".

*Grouch in the house*

Need to catch up on sleep since I got approximately 20 minutes last night.

Fringe Files

You know how there were the X-Files? Well I'm starting the Fringe Files to document all my fringe-ified outfits--primarily because I've run out of titles. *confession*

Speaking of confessions I don't know about you, but I spent most of yesterday watching 9/11 documentaries.  At first I didn't want to remember because of how sad it is, but then I remembered that I need to remember:  out of respect for the people who died and their surviving family members.  And also so that I don't become lackadaisical about the horrific events that happened that day.  Probably my favorite documentary was the one CBS aired called 9/11:  10 Years Later.  If you didn't catch it I highly recommend picking it up on iTunes.  Two French guys were doing a documentary on a rookie firefighter, and ended up capturing incredible footage at Tower One when one of them went to the scene with Chief Pfeifer.  It took my breath away and captured an insider's view like nothing else I've seen.  Even now, hours later, I can't stop thinking about it.

The only time I managed to get out yesterday was in an attempt to grab brunch.  Upon emerging from the house it became apparent that all the streets were blocked off due to yet another neighborhood event I probably threw out the flyer for, so we snapped a few pictures on the spot before rolling back upstairs to bust out the pb&j.  Not nearly the same as chips & salsa with a side of margaritas, but somehow I managed to survive.  Imagine that.

~Outfit: Sportsgirl-Crochet Fringe Sweater Tank (similar), BCBG-Ribbed Lace Tank, 

Elizabeth and James-Stevies (Jimi), Brandy & Melville Fringe Bag (similar)~

I may or may not have worn this tank a few times in the past week.

It is a birthday gift from my dear blogger friend Milijana who always remembers me.  
Hope to meet her in person someday! 

Fact of the matter:  I feel like Sarah Connor from The Terminator in this outfit.
All I need is about 50 more arm workouts and to tone up the junk in the 
trunk so I can kick a head off.  She did girl power like no other!

NEVER FORGET

One Fall Day. But Only One.

Labor Day was a glorious day--no laboring.  The Chef had the day off (rarity) so we were footloose and fancy free.  Upon arising in the AM I noticed ominous clouds...and then rain.  Two hours later:  more rain.  "Fine by me", she says to herself, "I think I'll take a nap."

Next thing we knew it was humid and warm and iced tea time.  We emerged from the house.  We had lunch.  We roamed the streets. Cut to scene and it was swanky dinner date time (our much missed fave).  So much for the LBD (seen here) and silk bomber I had planned--more rain.  Being the seasonal embracer I never am (summer lover in the house) I dove head first into my fall clothing and pulled this one out.  

~Outfit details:  Zara-Blazer (similar), Vince-Silk Tank (similar), Martin+Osa (RIP)-Black Skinny Denim, 

Ash-Ono Boots (similar), Alexander Wang-Coco (Rocco), Anthro-Sunglasses~

I know what you're thinking:  she does not look very happy.  In fact I was quite happy, except for the on with the dress, off with the dress, on with the blazer, off with the blazer, where are those ding-dang pants again??, I think the boots are in here, maybe I do want the dress after all, did that rain stop?, I am getting sweaty and we're gonna be late, wait a second let me get a picture of this one! gymnastics routine.  You know the one, right? *shakes head*

Now here's the thing about Southern California: On Tuesday morning, just hours later, I awoke to flames of heat from the sun, my fall dreams dashed to the fitting room floor.  Ever since it's been bloody 90-113 degrees from morning until night.  Just when I was willing to accept fall, summer came out from behind the clouds and screamed, "PSYCH!!" -- right in my face.

Am I even making sense?  I ate a cream puff for dinner tonight.  And a Mr. Freeze.  Then an ice cream cupcake (it's the year of the birthday).  And 14 glasses of water.  Blame it on the heat stroke.  

Out of the Dust

Just when you (and truth be told I) thought I might never come back to the blogosphere BAM! here I am.  Every once in awhile you have to let your life crash down on you and just stop everything to take it all in.  So that's what I did.  Whether you've been following me for a year or a day you know I keep it real.  If things aren't so hot, I'll say it.  Things were not so hot.  Okay now that that's been confirmed we can get on with it.

 *Heart on her sleeve here at the bird*

All that being said I'm trying to get back into the routine of things.  Just yesterday I took an outfit picture for the first time in weeks and felt like it was back to day one of the blog.  Weird, right?  Anyway, in the meantime here's a bit of what I've been up to.  Get your pillow in case you slip into a coma.

Early mornings at the beach where I laid down while others played volleyball.

Late days spent reading books and watching the sun set through breezy palms.  

Oh summer. 

sigh

My best friend came to town and we celebrated my birthday by eating *cough* a few of these.  

In the span of just a few days we toasted to a new year over cocktails 

and serious talks and not-so-serious talks and spa dates and 

new restaurants and relaxing hotels and every other wonderful best friend thing.

Including sunsets that are particularly amazing during late August in SoCal.

And more birthday surprises with my closest friends.

After he left it was back to me and early mornings at the beach.

You see the best things when not that many people are around!

Afternoons spent in deep discussion with the cat.  

Spontaneous mini road trips.

And just this past weekend kissing summer goodbye.

Except I woke up this morning to 93 miserable degrees.  In fact I had a dream in which I discovered the oven had been on the hottest temperature for 3 days explaining why the house was so hot.  You know you've got a twitter problem when IN THE DREAM I tweeted: "My name is Carrie and my oven has been on 500 for 3 days."  Only then I opened my eyes to the flaming sun beating down on my bed. No bueno.  Oh.  And I didn't actually tweet that.  Just in the dream.

I guess I really might be getting back to normal after all.  

Thanks for hanging in there with me.  Your notes and emails have been incredibly kind and thoughtful--I appreciate you so much.  

What's been going on with you guys?  Ben F's the next bloody Bachelor!  Did you see the announcement?  Jesus take the wheel...