Fall Fashion Conundrum

Ugh, Mail.

Typically, I enjoy getting mail. I even welcome the familiar stack of "pre-approved" credit card applications that make the bi-weekly journey from my doorstep directly to my trash can. But some days, the awaiting delivery turns out to be my complete undoing, almost as if the mailbox had transformed into Pandora's Box while I was slaving away at a hospital night shift.

And why the sour attitude? Well, every once in awhile, a fashion brochure (how the hell do they find me?) will turn in up the mail, and it's usually not all that threatening. Granted, the floral day dress on the cover of the spring issue will absolutely not go unnoticed (and will probably end up in my closet), but summer catalogs with "perfect" women in their "perfect" bikini bodies on "perfect" yachts rarely tempt me into digging out my credit card. Typically, I throw them out after nothing more than the casual flip through.

Until the fall issue, that is. The fall issue, without proper warning and preparation, can be devastating on my budget.

Fact: I'm a huge sucker for fall clothing. The coats, the boots, the hats, the sweaters...it's all gold. I love the coziness, easy sophistication and simple stylishness of it all. Each article of clothing is meant to wrap you not only in a plush, soft fabric, but also in a feeling of confidence and stylishness. Suddenly, it becomes chic to cover up. The skin-showing overload of summer gives way to the tasteful body-conscious silhouettes of fall. I'm already on the prowl for a long sleeved minidress...

And those damn coats and scarves hanging in store windows...brutal. It's safe to say I'm a ridiculous fan; scarves are indeed my kryptonite, and as such, they belong in my closet, adding to my already substantial collection. I've also been craving a red peacoat since I was old enough to figure out what they were. It's always been a fantasy of mine to be the lone lady in red, walking down a silent street of white. I've had my eye on this one (pictured left) for the last two years.

Not so fast sweaters, you're not off the hook either. Sweaters shout at me from holiday magazine covers, and I feel I absolutely must have one for the upcoming snowed-in nights I'll be spending curled up by the fireplace, on a fur rug, drinking a glass of wine and eating chocolate truffles. See the crazy vignettes my brain creates to justify my purchases? We don't even own a fireplace. Or a fur rug.

And boots...oh don't get me started on boots. In my mind the only reason a leaf would fall from a tree is so it could be stepped on by a fashionable knee high boot. Right now I'm obsessed with anything that's worn and weathered. I don't want a new pair like the ones in the magazines (who am I kidding, I'd never turn them down), but I'm craving something that has a story behind it. A pair that looks as though they were formerly worn by a sheepherder in northern Ireland. Preferably with a heel so I can feel appropriately matched with my 6'5" boyfriend, but I'm not too picky. Oh and straps and buckles, lots and lots of straps and buckles, regardless of their uselessness in the real world.

So while this may be my favorite time of year, it's also my most difficult. We've already canceled the cable and I've gotten a second job, so I'm not about to do something stupid like buy a pair of boots.

God I love a good pair of boots...maybe just one pair...I've been so good...

Focus. I need to get through this. Sorry awesome fall coats, boots, hats, sweaters and scarves, but you're just going to have to wait until next year when I can buy you in a thrift store for 1/10 the price. Of course, I do have a closet swap party coming up on October 14, so lets just focus on that.

So tell me, what do you like about the fall?

Babies Have It Made

We leave tomorrow morning for Denver, for Wedding #3. I've been at my brother's since Sunday night visiting him, my sister-in-law and my little niece, who's almost 8 months old. I'm having a great time, but there's something that my niece (who I have described in previous posts as sarcastic and ironic) has brought to my attention: babies have awesome sh*t.

No really, they do. All their toys do, like, a bagillion different things (yes, I just used the word bagillion and 'like' in the same sentence; your welcome valley girls). Their toys move, sing, light up, and all the while, they're teaching you something. Are you kidding me? Put my chemistry lesson in a song and have it sung to me by a dancing, multicolored, light up elephant and I dare you to bet against me in a periodic table stand-off. Usually, my homework gets pushed to the last minute because I'm distracted by something with lots of lights and sounds (read: the television) so I don't see why something even more fabulously distracting wouldn't be a brilliant idea. Heck, it works for babies...

And when did everything in the adult world become so boring? Since I've grown up, everything has a "sleek" and "modern" feel. Well maybe I don't want "sleek" or "modern", maybe I want a phone that's bulky and bright yellow with pink and purple buttons. I guarantee I wouldn't lose it near as often. An elegant chandelier? How about a vivid and vibrant airplane mobile above the dining room table? And screw the silent, stainless steel kitchen appliances, how about a little music every time the refrigerator fills my glass with ice or water, or a fluorescent green stove with blue burners? Ones that change from blue to red to yellow depending on how hot they are. You know, color coded so people like me who, for some reason, completely ignore the fact that just because the burner is off it doesn't mean it's not still hot. Safety first, I always say.

And don't even get me started on clothing. I was wondering through Gap Kids today (which is ridiculously expensive by the way, I wonder how they sleep at night) and I couldn't help wishing I was still 2 feet tall. There was a little snowsuit with footies and mittens attached to the hands and feet, (attached!) with a fuzzy hoody and a built-in face-mask/windbreaker. Why don't they make those for adults? No not snowsuits with mittens and snow boots sold separately, the all-in-one deal, like they did back in the good ol' days when I was apparently...4.

And transportation? I'm even willing to temporarily chill the eff' out about the snail's pace my jet pack is coming along if someone will just answer my question of why the hell don't I have my own stroller? If I could find an adult size one I'm sure my friends and I wouldn't mind trading off with it. How incredibly awesome would it be to get pushed around the grocery store, attempting to cause as much destruction in the cereal isle as humanly possible with absolutely no consequences because, hey, you're in a stroller, you don't know any better. And if you were somewhere that takes forever to get your shopping done (like Wallmart or Costco, where they only have four cash registers open), you could cuddle up with your super-soft blanky and stuffed zebra and take a little nap. Thirsty? Hungry? Fear not, I'm sure any kind of satisfaction is but an arm's length (or a loud warning squeal) away. There are so many pockets and useful gadgets on those things I have no idea why I ever spent my money on luggage in the first place. My suitcase doesn't even have a cup holder.

This trip so far has been eye-opening. I need to get me some cool-ass baby sh*t, except for, you know, adults or something.

 

New Page: It's OK

So since I've had so many incredibly crappy days this week (read this if you're at all doubtful) I've added a new page to my blog. I'm calling it the It's OK page, and it's pretty much a list of everything I do that makes me feel guilty that shouldn't. So I'm going to keep doing them anyway.

I'm sure you have a similar list. So what's yours? Let me know, I might add them onto mine!

Five Words You Don't Hear Enough

"It's only a 4 page paper, I just don't understand how to do the calculations is all. Can you help me out?"

"Email me what you have," I texted back. "I'll run through and make sure you're using the right formulas."

Fact of life: I have a hard time saying "No." It's just a few formulas, I'll look it over. This was after I had already gone to the gym, done the dishes and prepped some food for dinner later tonight. I finished my own 8 page paper on cognitive dissonance/situated cognition and turned it in before 10:00, took a shower and gathered my things for a day running the ice-cream truck.

11:20 - My first customers. Three teenage girls driving a 2008 Ford Focus. "Do you have anything that's strawberry?" asked Girl #1 without even looking up from her phone. "Sorry," I said. "I have huckleberry? Would that be okay?"

Girl #2 rolled her eyes. "Eww," she said. "That sounds disgusting." Girl #3 clearly agreed. "Let's just go to Dairy Queen," she whined. "This sucks."

Great start.

1:26 - It hits 100 degrees.

3:30 - I ran by my friend's house to check on her cat (being she was out of town for a few days). After seeing she was out of food, I went home, put some of my cat's food in a little baggie and brought it back. That should last her through the next few days.

4:30 - Made a routine stop at a house with 5 kids with Cruella DeVille for a mom. She only lets them have anything if I give it to them for free (yet she clearly has enough money for her cigarettes), so I usually give them a few popsicles and tell them not to tell their mom, hoping one day she might cough up some change to cover the weekly dent she makes in my donation jar. Wishful thinking, I know.

4:42 - It hits 102 degrees.

5:35 - a man stops me in traffic to say his dog is missing, and if I see it on my route to give him a call. He gives me a phone number, address, and description of his dog. I tell him I'll keep a lookout.

6:45 - I head home to grab a bite to eat. Checked my grades. 87% for my paper? I'll take it. Also the air conditioner has leaked all over the carpet, so I put a bowl underneath is and clean up what I could. I'll get the rest later.

7:30 - I find the missing dog. I call the number but no answer, so I take it to the address. She's a hyper Border Collie named Bella, and secretly I want to keep her. He's not home, but his neighbor, an elderly woman, screams at me and accuses me of trying to steal this man's dog. I explain I'm actually bringing the dog back, but she just shakes her fist at me and walks into her house. I wait another 10 minutes when he pulls up. Crisis averted.

8:20 - I realize I forgot to refill my water bottle when I stopped by my house. I'm out of water and I've got an hour left. Oh well.

9:30 - I make my last round through a familiar neighborhood and am waved over by a little boy and his dad. After pondering the choices he chooses a chocolate ice cream sandwich. Good choice. He gives me the money and takes his frozen treat.

"What do we say?" asked his father.
"Thank you," replied the little boy.
"Aww, you're welcome bud!" I said back.
"And what else do we say?" asked the father once more.

The little boy looked up at me with big, brown eyes bordered by long lashes and said with compete sincerity five words I haven't heard in years:

"You're doing a good job."

Thank god I was wearing sunglasses. "Oh, wow." I stuttered, trying not to cry, "Thank you. Thank you so much."

They smiled, his dad dropped $0.50 in the donation jar, and they went back into the house. There I sat, completely dumbfounded and on the verge of tears.

You're doing a good job.

Honestly, when's the last time someone has told you you're doing a good job? Not insinuated it, or hinted at it, but actually told you you're doing a good job? Personally I can't remember the last time, but I know for a fact there are people out there who don't hear it enough, and I'm sure you're one of them.

So for today, Monday, the start of the week, I'm asking you to take a second in the mirror and tell yourself you're doing a good job. It's true, and you don't hear it enough. Hell maybe even let that waitress working the 4 a.m. shift know too, I'm sure she hasn't heard it in years either.