Light, breezy and effortless. Minimalist also comes to mind, as accessories are kept to a minimum. This semi sheer chiffon romper was perfect because I could easily slip the whole thing off and go swimming right away.
At home I would pile some necklaces and other goodies on top of this outfit, but it felt nice to just keep it simple this time.
Walking down an alley, the color of the bricks and the perfect symmetry of the barred windows caught my attention. The inhospitable exterior seemed the perfect contrast to my soft and flowing exterior. Plus, there was still a certain intoxication in the air. The result of both the humid summer heat, and the lingering effects of the heart of World Pride celebrations.
…when did chasing me around the house to squeeze my boob become the best game ever? To a toddler? Seriously. And when is it going to stop? Just wondering, ’cause you know, I’m lodging a complaint with human resources otherwise.
They are days for lounging. They are days for artfully created braids that hang accidentally over a shoulder. They are days where sunglasses, hats, and sun rays are the best of bedfellows. Days where strolling through the heat is an infinite activity. Days where you slip your feet into beautifully crafted and luxuriously cushioned feet.
I could not think of a more perfect day to cradle my feet in my new Lamo shoes. These Laguna ones I picked made me feel like around every corner a sandy beach or a crested wave would greet me. Normally, you put on a pair of new shoes and that first day it’s like your feet and shoes are out on a first date – just getting to know one another. But not these, these felt like old lovers, seeing each other for the first time but knowing exactly how they fit.
Yup, needless to say, these are fun and comfortable shoes.
…I’m a big ol’ hippie. I realized as I got dressed, that I loved every piece, and that I loved everything together. And then I realized that there was no denying that it’s all very boho, very lounge, and very 70s.
And I’ve also realized I don’t care. I’m going to be the crazy ninety year old woman in palazzo pants and a kimono. Unless of course it’s post apacalypse zombie land…in which case, I’ll be wearing a kimono over my two holstered pistols, bow, and katana. Priorities right?
When things happen in life they sometimes have untended consequences. For example, since I’ve seriously hurt my toe and made it black and blue all over, I think it entered my subconscious and made me pull out this black and blue number.
That, or this dress is just too darn fantastic to just sit around and it hides the unsightly toe perfectly. Either one fits.
Recently my Girl had to go get some shots. She was super brave about it by hopping up onto the exam table and even holding out her arm for the doctor. She smiled through it all until the huge tears came when the needle went in. Then, 10 seconds later she was giggling again.
Now, every morning when she wakes up she hopefully asks me if we’re going to get shots again. And is incredibly disappointed when I say that we aren’t. Then she asks if we’ll go tomorrow, and again is disappointed when I say we’re not. Something might be wrong. She might like pain a little too much. Maybe we should get that checked out……
…then again, it might have something to do with the chocolate Kinder egg she got as a reward.
Okay, so remember how I said I wouldn’t venture out into that huge snowfall? Well, I’m a lying, liar pants on fire, ’cause I ended up doing so. But only for the two minutes it took to take these shots. I may be crazy, but even I have my limits…few though they may be.
Side note: Had a whole night of dreams where I was Jean-Luc Picard’s Number One and we were in command of a fleet of actual naval vessels, on an ocean. Very odd, but also very cool because, hey, Jean-Luc Picard’s Number One!
Returning home on the bus with my baby girl in my lap, holding her close because she’d been complaining of a tummy ache, I wished the driver could go faster. I feared what was about to happen on the crowded, rush hour ride. And sure enough, within seconds it went flying. Vomit. Vomit went flying from my little girl into my face, my hair, and all down both of our coats, scarves, and pants. By that point I had resigned myself, and while no one said anything, I knew this is not what they wanted after a long day at work. But when my girl started crying, not because she felt sick or because she vomited, but because she got ‘you all dirty’ I said screw it.
Nothing I could do for the other people. They were adults and just had to understand that sometimes crap *or vomit* like this happens, especially to little toddlers. I could, however, do something for the little girl crying in my arms upset that she got me dirty. I soothed that little girl telling her it didn’t matter, and sat there holding her covered in puke for the next ten minutes – until we got to our stop. No one offered a word of encouragement, or a friendly look of sympathy. It was a very looooong ten minutes.
Until it came to my stop, and a lady who was sitting at the far back came forward, and as she past us, she didn’t cringe or give a dirty look like I had done this on purpose *’cause yeah, I torture my child just to screw up your day* but instead she cried, “Oh no! Can I help you????” She was getting off at the same stop as I, and as the bus slowed, stopped, opened and we exited, she kept offering her assistance. Asking if there’s anything she can do to help us home. We were all right – I just had to carry her to the house and then get her cleaned off – but this lady with her sincere help and understanding gave me the support and strength I needed at exactly the right time.
Thank you. Thank you to this lady. I don’t know your name, and I didn’t catch it as I was wrapped up in my girl, but thank you. You really helped give one mama a little camaraderie right when she needed it.
Andrew turns to Baby Girl and asks, “What would you like in your carrot muffins? Pineapple or raisin?”
She answers, “Carrots!”
He asks,”Yes, but pineapple or raisins?”
“Carrots!”
“You want carrots in your carrot muffins?”
“Yes, Da-ddy!” she replies rather irritated now that he’s asking such an obvious question.
You obviously put carrots, else they would not be carrot muffins. Geez, Dads apparently have a lot of learning to do.
