Ciblek Mania

Sometimes I can get pretty overwhelmed.

By what, you ask?

Oh, well, everything.

As you get older interesting things happen, and I don't mean those lines around your mouth. What might have once overwhelmed you, things like making sure you have on just the right outfit or turning yourself inside out to get a mean person's approval, well those things oftentimes fade away. You're comfortable in your own skin, satisfied with who you are. Victory, right? In a sense, yes. It is a victory.

But other equally annoying things crop up in their place. Thoughts like, 'Damn I'm old, I need to buy a house!' and 'Did my friend just say her kid's in junior high? Do I even have any eggs left in the basket?!' Yeah, those annoying things. Thankfully the only eggs I'm thinking about right now are the ones I missed out on at Easter. But the house thing? I'll admit: I wouldn't mind my own personal space.  Free from neighbors who help themselves to my barbecue just as I'm about to barbecue. True story.

One of Southern California's saving graces is its apartments. A lot of them are chock full of character, and you can't help wanting to move every couple years when one of the good ones comes up for grabs. Remember this place? I've kept an eye on it since I first spotted it about 5 years ago. It has now been for rent for 2 months, so the other day I caved and stopped by to check it out when I saw the sign: No Pets. What do you mean NO PETS? Don't these people know cats are family? Fa-mi-lee.

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:

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:

When I opened my email on Friday there was a sneak peek at Free People's February Catalogue waiting.  Yowsa.  Sometimes it's do or die time when those things roll in.  There are always one or two things in the sneak that really get in me ol' brains and refuse to exit, so after performing due diligence (aka clicking, walking away, clicking again, forcing myself to wait through a conference call to see if I reeeeally wanted it) I jumped off and got this little number:

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.

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.

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!!

If I told you how long I have been staring at this blazer you may or may not think I had been hypnotized.  In the past week alone it was gazed upon no less than 10 times per day *cue 'Too Much Time on My Hands*, yet for one reason or another I just couldn't pull the trigger.  In all honesty lace has not crossed my mind much since Madonna was, ahem, much younger--and even then I was more enthralled with the piles of bracelets climbing her arms.  Lately however I'm kinda transfixed.

Cut to scene and there I was on Friday night indulging in the weekly ritual of margaritas and chicken tacos with my friend Kelly who proceeded to use dirty words like, oh, Forever 21 right at the table.  I'm just going to out myself:  I haven't been in Forever 21 in 9 years.  Yes you read that right.  Everyone goes on and on about Forever 21 and all I'm thinking is, 'I turned *cough* 25 last year so that one is out of the question."  Well friends, I would like to formally announce that as of Saturday at approximately 12:30pm PST I am now 21 again and it is feeling pretty good.

Kelly coerced me to a monstrosity of a Forever 21 that resembled a mini department store.  She's very sneaky too--after 15 minutes she had to depart, abandoning me in a sea of what appeared to be 7 million females between the ages of 10 and 52.  Is this post littered with numbers or what? Anyway, 2.5 HOURS later I emerged with stars in my eyes, hair still in my head AND a jackpot of finds in my bag, not the least of which was an amazing version of that lace blazer I had been stalking.  Examine the evidence:

The title of this post sounds so ominous.  Nope--just the story of an LBD and a favorite denim shirt.

Yesterday was a race from the moment I opened my eyes until the time I hit the couch just in time to catch Teen Mom (cue the tears over Catelynn's fear of Brandon & Teresa cutting off contact with Carly).  Being busy without scary demands is a good feeling.  Unfortunately it wasn't so great when I reached over to turn on the straight iron only to realize 10 minutes later the thing had crossed over to the great hair appliance factory in the sky.  Why me?  Cut to scene and there I was racing out the door minutes later with a somewhat fuzzed out head of hair and a bag containing various outfit changes to last the day...miraculously I was only 10 minutes late to the first meeting.  Think screeeeech.

It should be noted that cleaning out the closet can yield many a forgotten treasure.  Case in point the little black dress in this post.  I picked it up more than a few years ago and have only worn it once or twice because it always gets lost beneath a hanging jacket.  Imagine my excitement upon rediscovering it this past Saturday.  We're in this weird weather pattern right now:  fogged in for the morning, blazing hot for the afternoon and then fogged in and cold for the evening.  I'm not ready to kiss summer goodbye so am working dresses and shorts to the maximum opting for light layers overtop that can easily be tossed aside once it warms up.  Second case in point:  the denim shirt.  Everyone laughed and called me a cowboy when I picked it up at Martin+Osa (RIP) a couple years ago.  Laughs on you suckahs (ie. friends who teased and read this blog)!  The denim shirt is back with a vengeance and I'm here to claim my rightful seat on the denim shirt throne.  On a serious note:  two wardrobe essentials paired together for chic and easy. You really can't go wrong.

And now let us carry on toward the weekend.  Only two days to go...

Yesterday after the collective gasp and guttural screams commenced upon a 'not guilty' (still can't believe it) verdict being read in the Casey Anthony trial I curled up in the fetal and screamed, "Damn you OJ Simpson NOT AGAIN!!".

That's all I'm gonna say about that for 5 minutes.

Instinctively I wanted to get as far away from the television as possible.  What if Nancy Grace had a stroke and was no longer able to entertain me every day??  Strolling racing into my room I tossed on clothes that gave me comfort (like comfort food only in clothing form) and took to the beach to block it all out.  Fortunately I had spun by Brandy & Melville last week and hit the jackpot in the cotton department.  Seeing as we have been given an Ashley Bachelorette bye this week I took it upon myself to wear something reminiscent of her not wearing pants--although let the record show I had a one piece romper on beneath.  *oh no the google searches that are gonna come in off this one*  I have to say the grey maxi alone is likely to become a new go-to piece.  

As I'm glancing through the pictures I realize I've committed the cardinal sin of fashion:  I've worn an outfit of almost entirely one brand--except the romper and the shoes.  Oh well, I guess I'll live.  It all worked together and if the fashion police try to haul me over I'll just avoid them for 31 days and then make up piles and piles and piles of lies to get off scott free.  Seemed to work just marvelously yesterday.   *slap, slap, slap infinity* 

Okey dokey I was about to start typing and we had an earthquake.  Let's hope we don't have another.