…put on a dress, a chunky cardigan, boots, scarf, and hat. Done. It’s really as simple as that. And mix and match as necessary to create ‘new’ outfits.
For the winter, add tights, and maybe another top layer somewhere in there.
There’s those silly tests online/facebook about “Which whatever are you.” I enjoy them in as much as I find them a silly distraction. The recent one was “Who would play you in the story of your life?” I got Jennifer Lawrence because we apparently share the same affinity for honesty, intensity, girl next doorness, being one of the guys, and being self-effacing.
They are certainly an odd thing, those tests, but I found the whole thing about being self-effacing interesting. Why would you not be self-effacing? It’s good to look at yourself, see your faults and flaws, and then recognize them with humor. I think it’s good for the soul. Not only does it acknowledge that yes you do suck sometimes, but I’d like to think that it also shows acceptance and understanding that perfection is a delusional state.
Who knows, maybe I’m talking out my ass. I do that sometimes.
Morning coffee dates have become kind of a thing with me and my girl lately. When us ladies are home alone, we usually take the little walk over to the nice new coffee shop that opened in our neighborhood. I get my coffee, and she gets her almond croissant.
Then, with a smile and a hug she convinces me to go over to the park too *not that I need much convincing, but I like the extra hug* It’s our routine. Which is about to end as she heads off to school tomorrow. But in the meantime, I’m going to enjoy our last coffee date today.
Okay, I know you can’t see my shoes. I know that. I took the photos in a field of flowers and forgot to make sure you could see my shoes. Can I just tell you that I’m wearing brown and beige strap sandals? Would that suffice this time?
I hope so, ’cause this was a casual day that turned into a hectic running around the city with my toddler kind of day. And so I forgot the shoes.
In the movie “French Kiss” with Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline there’s these two scenes where they discuss the fact that he’s not a fan of people and not a very ‘happy’ person. Part of the reason is that he doesn’t express his feelings. Now I do express my feelings – just ask anyone. I’m pretty open about how I feel at the moment and how I feel about a person. Which makes it easier for people to know where they stand with me, I’d like to think.
But I’m not an extrovert. So in a similar way to Kevin Kline I’m not a huge fan of people and not what you would classify as a ‘happy’ person. You know, cheerful, positive, energetic, bouncy….’happy.’ I’m sarcastic, acerbic, intelligent, quirky, with a dry wit. I’d like to think I’m kind, but I’m also awkward and aloof. Hey, that’s me, what can you do?
This is all to say, that I’m going to be “One of those grumpy old [people] sitting in the back of the cafe going, *said in French accent* ‘My ass is twitching. You people make my ass twitch‘”
Watch the movie, you’ll get it.
What is it? Really? To me, mom style is the style of a woman who happens to be a mom. I know to some it means dowdy, or haphazard. But I disagree. How did we women get to be moms? By being hot, and attractive…because let’s think a moment about how one becomes pregnant. Think on that for a moment.
Now that you’ve thought about it.
I believe it’s a misnomer to think that once one has a child one has to suddenly forget that you have curves and sex appeal. Yes, there are the pressures of time and the constraints given to thinking about style. But jeans, a fun top, and great hat would solve any and all such occasional time constraints, would they not?
Those are my two cents for the day.
Children have this uncanny ability to say the most obvious things in a way that makes them seem profound. Or at least in a way that signals that it is profound to them.
“My dog likes to smell stinky things….my dog….likes to smell…STINKY things.”
Case in point.
I look at my girl, “Honey, do you know that I love you?”
“Yup.”
“You do?”
“Yup. ‘Cause you take care of me when I sick. And you make me spaghetti! That my favorite dinner. You make it for me a lot!”
There you have it. That’s how you know someone loves you.
Walking along with my girl, she lets out a fart, giggles, then says, “‘Scuse me!”
She pauses, then continues, “You have to say ‘scuse me when you fart.”
Long pause.
Her brows furrow, and she secretly whispers to me, “Sometimes Daddy farts and doesn’t say ‘Scuse me.”
Another pause.
Then, “That’s RUDE!”
What more do I need to say?
