Ciblek Mania

Bet you thought I'd flown the coop.  I mean it's been a couple days and no Bachelor recap?! Truth: I haven't even taken a full look at this week's episode.  Blasphemy.  I overheard bits and pieces from the kitchen where I was *ahem* slaving away over a birthday cake turned massive bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough for the Chef. It was his birthday, so the Bachelor is waiting on DVR.  I know that fool Ben decided to keep Courtney and I know Kacie B laid down on the floor in the hallway of a hotel in Switzerland. I'm certain there's much more where that came from, but don't tell me! I need to see that mess for myself and will report back when done.

In the meantime I've been having some pretty productive, but long work days that basically render me incoherent at the end of the day.  Due to this work-related mayhem all I've been able to do is sneak instagrams now and then.  Here are some recent faves from the past week or so.  I am a firm believer in incremental rewards to make the days go by faster.  Examine the evidence:

Have you ever seen something, paused, taken the leap in purchasing and then wondered why you hesitated in the first place?  Story of my life. About a month ago Calypso St. Barth had an online sample sale, so I meandered over to the site to take a look and fell upon a superb pair of pants. The only thing holding me back was length.  At 5'3'' there is a lot of hemming that takes place up in this dojo and the pants were just the right wide leg.  Would they be hemmable (and yes I realize that's not exactly a word, but neither is inspo and plenty of people are using that linguistic tragedy...)? Because nothing wrecks a perfect, slightly flared leg than a hem job gone wrong.

Cut to scene and I pulled the trigger purchasing the pants once I realized their original price was over $200 and these were....wait for it...on sale for $35!! All I can say is victory on the pant front and I don't even want to hem them.  Wore them with a platform sandal on a lazy Sunday a couple weekends ago.  Examine the evidence:

I think I'm gonna work that angle. Ha!

A couple of Saturdays ago I found myself all up in Free People when I swear I left the house only to get a cup of tea.  Funny how that happens.  Truth is I was feeling kind of sorry for myself because my whole family was at my 6 year old niece's first singing recital and I was missing it.  That's what you get when you move 1500 miles away.  You get a lump in your throat, tears on your plastic teacup lid, and a whiteout that lands you in retail therapy.  Niiiiice.

So there I was:  hand absentmindedly skimming the racks, humming Butterfly Fly Away, when out of the corner of my eye I spotted a frayed hem.  Now if you know me you know I'm all about a good pair of jeans.  I'm not biased.  I'll find them at the flea market, the boyfriend's floor or a sample sale.  Just hand over the denim and no one will get hurt.  Next thing I know, despite not realllllly needing another pair, I find myself in the fitting room discussing the pros and cons of a pretty ridiculously cool pair of bells.

Pros:  faded wash, perfectly frayed uneven hems, high waist, worn holes in all the right places
Cons: little tight in the upper leg, maybe a tiny bit too long
Summary:  a few stretches in the fitting room at the advice of my fave shopgirl and sold! now contemplating another pair one size up to hem and wear with cowboy boots.

They're keepers. Examine the evidence:

I never considered myself much of a daredevil.

Nope.  Growing up I listened to the teacher, always completed my homework without being asked to do so, was home by curfew (except once or twice), and stayed in the crosswalk.  To this day I am still too nervous to jaywalk for fear of a police officer catching me and administering a verbal rip in front of a bunch of nosy onlookers.

Confessions of a self-professed hallway monitor turned free bird (in the latter years).

So a couple weeks ago when we were on our way home from the blessed flea market aka home of the Tori Spelling sighting and the Chef pulled into a parking lot with a sign that basically said if you're not the owner and don't have permission you'd best frig off, I contemplated having a breakdown.

Him:  Just get out. We'll get a few pictures and leave.
Me:  What if someone calls the police?
Him: By the time the police got here we'd be gone and the police do not care about us. *eye roll*
Me: What if the owner's here and yells at us? (as he walks across the parking lot and I holler out the window)
Him: Dude. It's Sunday. The owner is not here.
Me: That guy over there is waving to us. Maybe he's the owner.
Him: That guy over there is saying get out of the car and don't be a wuss. So don't be a wuss.

Fine. Rule breaker in the house. Nerd version 2012.

Happy to report no one called the po-po on us and I was back in the car within 5 minutes.  Word.

On Sunday afternoon I pulled myself out of a funk of epic proportions, wrapped myself in my technicolor dreamcoat, and ventured out of the house.

More often than not I spend a good deal of the week wishing I could be outside to get just a little fresh air, and then when the weekend comes I'm so exhausted and the place is such a wreck all I want to do is sleep and clean.  Neither of those two things occur outdoors, by the way.  Another reason to justify life in a teepee.  And now you know why I mentioned thinking about a maid, maid, maid in Friday's post.

Who's with me?  (and yes I may or may not be mildly whining but am almost over it due to grateful to have work at all)

But what if they don't get in the corners like we do?  What if there's dust left over? And what if our hand wash only items accidentally get tossed in the washing machine? (first world pains) Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy.  I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't so I just get stuck at a standstill and do nothing.  Damn you nothing!  You're of no use to me!!

So I said to myself on Sunday, 'Today you are getting out of this house.  Do not look at the computer.  Do not trip in that pile of laundry.  Turn your head away from the chair filled with need-to-be-folded clothing and for the love of God do not sit down in front of the television or it's going to be lights out on the ID Channel.'

*As I was giving myself this pep talk a high priority work email came through *the dreaded BING* and I had to work. Thereby defeating my moments earlier pep talk of not looking at the computer, but when you love what you do you do what you have to do.  And in the end it's not all that bad except when the next day is Monday and it feels like Friday is prettttty darn far away.*

This was the weekend of approximately 14 non-working hours.  During which time I washed a load of laundry, still don't know if it's in the dryer, and briefly escaped the maison with the Chef in order to get some sun on my face and slurp back a margarita just in time for Monday to chase me down.

This is life.  The big ol' hamster wheel.  Cling to the sides before retirement's here and all you have left to your name is three cents and an amazing fringy sweater.  See if you want to live in teepee then.  Not likely.

Sunday was traumatic:  the tree came down.  And so did half its needles.

However this was also the mark of good things to come since I've always viewed January 2nd as the start of spring. Some call it delusion, I call it survival skills.  I am a denier of the winter weather.  While a warm sweater or jacket is still in rotation it is most often found over a dress of sorts, or perhaps a skinny denim baring the ankles.  For those of you up to your knees in snow, I'm sorry.  I have zero advice having fled that same Canadian scene several years ago.  Turn up the heat and parade around the house in shorts and t with a margarita in hand?  I may or may not have used this as a coping mechanism whilst combating an adverse reaction to snow mold that left me housebound for months.  

Back to Sunday.  It was a glorious afternoon.  The perfect spring day one might say.  Is it appropriate to wear fur in spring?  I don't know, I just did it anyway.  Truth be told it was a little balmy despite being sans sleeves, but I reveled in it.  My poor pale skin sung out beneath the warm rays of the sun while I nestled my head in the needles of the tree (while shielding my eyes) just one last time to breath in its pine goodness.  It's a new day.  Goodbye tree and hello beach.

I've decided to basically wave the bird to most of the 80's and 90's fashions littering up stores at present.  Not all, but most.  You know I've been going off about what's available, or shall I say unavailable, for awhile and I'm pretty much over myself and my inability to get motivated to get dressed.  I mean let's face it: sweats and a t-shirt can only last so long, even for me (totally lying to myself).  One day last week I saw a pile of clothes lying on my bed--all soft tones--and it donned on me:  just wear what you want already.  Quit your friggin' whining and make a plan.  So here's the beginning of my plan:  soft fabrics in warm colors, loungy dresses, cushy sweaters, mixed with denim and boots.  That's all I've got so far, but at least I'm no longer in my pj's staring into the closet in a trance.

This weekend I did some window shopping and hit a few jackpots, one in particular at Madewell (I go through phases where I seriously love everything in that store).   Very rarely is there ever a dress left in my size once sale hits, but this time I was in luck.  Eventually I'll get to wear it with the scarf and some otk striggings, but this time the scarf only made it through the pictures before the 80 degree weather sent it flying into the back of the car as we sped off.  I can't complain too much -- it'll be cold all winter so might as well enjoy it while it lasts!

Saturday afternoon, while everyone in the east was experiencing a snowstorm, here in Southern California we got 80 degrees.  Is it so wrong to want to dress seasonally appropriate?  Apparently so.

Do you ever have moments where you feel caught between the past, present and future?  Lately I'm stuck in the vortex, pulled in all three directions, emotionally exhausted.

Am I doing all I should be?
Have I done all I could?
Is what I'm doing enough to be able to do all I want later?
Wish I had made a different choice. (new territory for me)
Maybe if I had I would be doing more of what I want now...

It can be a torturous thing this thinking thinking thinking.  It's necessary though.  I mean if you're not contemplating your life one day you'll wake up wondering how you got there.  And what if you don't like it?

Oh hell this is really turning into a melancholy one, isn't it?

Blame it on Monday, overcast skies, lack of sleep.  When in Rome.

I managed to haul it out mid-afternoon yesterday.  Just in time to catch 15 minutes of sunshine amidst what's turned out to be a full week of foggy days.  No complaining here.  Tossed on the usual jeans, boots, jacket and t--and then slung my Low Luv Thunderbird necklace on at the last second.

Chef took a few pictures before we hopped in the car and when he passed the camera over we had the quietest exchange.  Me: 'Something about this is very Goose and Maverick.  Man look at my hair.  I need a comb.'  Him: 'Your hair has never looked better.'  Tell me sweet little lies.  More 80's flashbacks.

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.

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*