full skirt, bare legs, & boots

 boots: target. skirt: no idea, it's old as the hills. shirt: j.crew. belt: off a pencil skirt from kohl's. bracelets: forever21 and BurntSiena Designs. necklace: forever21.

I think my necklace needs to be chunkier. I think that, when "chunkiness" rang its dinnertime triangle and all the jewelry in my closet came a-runnin', these bracelets elbowed everyone else out and hogged it all. By "it," I'm referring still to the chunkiness, for those of you who aren't anthropomorphistic. Which, if you're not, you probably lead a saner life than me, but I defy you to say it's as exciting or entertaining.

Speaking of exciting, I gave my 2- and 5-year-olds squirt bottles to entertain themselves for the half-hour before dinnertime. They're currently squirting each other and bawling and screaming about being squirted. I guess it's a good "Plan B" for excitement, if the jewelry re-enactment didn't quite do it for you. Especially when the cops show up because the neighbor's phone got worried about all the screaming and dialed 9-1-1 on itself.

What can I say, I'm an adrenaline junkie and a neglectful "let-them-work-it-out" parent all rolled into one exciting ball o' fun.

Happy Thursday!

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mr. golden sun appears to be permanently indisposed...yellow sweater to the rescue

 shoes: steve madden. pants: gap. shirt: j.crew. cardigan: old navy. bracelet: downeast basics. pin: don't recall. earrings: hawaii.

 I'm looking for it, guys. My dignity, that is. Searching hard...

 Drat. It's gone. Quite possibly forever.

Dignity or no... it's Friend Friday! This week's topic is among my favorites: Gratitude. Here goes:

1. When it comes to me personally – I owe a lot of who I am to: My parents and siblings, natch, for their sculpting of me through my childhood years. My college roommates during those pivotal college years, who helped me figure out what really is -- and isn't -- important to me and my life. (For example: ISN'T: yellow landrovers, caffeine, and pleasing everybody. IS: loyalty, laughter, and clean cookware.) And, forever and ever amen, my husband and children.

2. When it comes to me professionally – I owe a lot of who I am to: My English professors who embraced my uniqueness and let me -- encouraged me to -- fly, the Grant Lab (my first career-centered job, right out of college, which taught me the ins and outs of real-life professional technical writing and set me up for the kid-friendly, flexible freelance writing I do now), and my husband whose support has been unwavering and perspective reassuring.

3. When it comes to the art of blogging, I’m grateful to these people for helping me through some rough spots: Heidi, who without knowing it has set the example for me of completely being ones own glorious and unique self on blog (her blogging resolutions for the New Year 2011 were what sealed the deal), Jill, a stranger who took a chance and asked to feature me when I first started my blog and who will always have a place in my e-heart, and (sincerely) all you style bloggists who are genuine and who put yourselves out there because you love what you do. It's inspiring. Annnnd...my husband, who smiles and supports me even though blogging & "style" per se aren't exactly his thang. (Ew. Gross. Pretend I didn't just type that.)

4. One blogging challenge I’m grateful happened because it made me stronger was… Adding Disqus. Ran into many problems installing it on my blog for some reason, but I learned some html stuff and patience and how to curse in my head but not out loud. All very applicable life skills.

5. To my readers, I’d like to say… Thanks, all four of you, for putting up with me, with my sarcasm, with my text-heavy posts, with my outfit blunders, with my silliness, and with my amateur self- or kid-snapped photos. Thanks for your comments, for making me laugh, and for following and visiting often. I think you're pretty great.

Happy Friday!

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mission: impossible

Hi! If you're new to my blog: Welcome! No, seriously, I'm glad you came by; I hope you come back often. In fact, I'm going to try to permanently endear myself to you in the classic manner that I first attracted and endeared myself to Pocket: The Wink. 

'Cept I forgot to mention...I can't wink (no kidding). And I didn't endear myself to Pocket by attempting it. It's actually by sheer stars alignment (coupled with his poor eyesight) that he ever spoke to me in the first place, let alone tears-streaming-down-his-face-begged* me to marry him.

(* Maybe an ever-so-slight exaggeration. But maybe not.)

shoes: thrifted. jeans: kohl's. cowl neck shirt: j. crew. striped tunic & belt: forever21. watch: target. earrings: gift.

I have to apologize: sometimes, despite being 31 years mature, I get in silly moods. Today is one of those times. I blame it wholeheartedly on these adorably-8th-grade camo wedges -- they're bringing out the craziness that I usually keep silenced with ample supplies of pnut m&ms and Dumas. But I've been trying to consume less junk these days (with questionable success) (and by "questionable" I of course mean "zero"), and I haven't been reading as much as I'd like. I'm afraid what you see here is the result.

Inspired by the camoflauge on my shoes (which, I'm sorry, but I think camo is just a fantastic print), I attempted acting out a stealth mission in the last photo sequence above. Note the binocs. Note the "blending in" with the natural surroundings. Note, again, the binocs.

Okay, so I actually don't know that much about stealth missions. I kiiiiiind of ran out of ideas after the first two shots. But this much I do know: I nailed it with the striped tunic as uniform, particularly if your stealth mission involves zebras...lying sideways...

Happy Wednesday.

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stuffy solids turn playful

 boots & watch: target. tights: giftedn. magic skirt: gap. shirt: j.crew. belt: don't recall.

Today's jumping-off point was this shirt. I adore everything about it--the color, the cowl neck, the sleeves, everything. But for some reason, I'm having a hard time styling it. So I decided that I'd put it on and see what else flew out of my closet and landed on my body, Mary Poppins cleanup-style.

[Editor's note: Maybe it's just me...it's probably just me...but has anyone else DREAMed of being able to snap your fingers and have results like that? Clean house, straightened appearance, birds singing outside the window? Hello. If I ever run into a genie-filled-lamp, the Magic Snap is TOTally in running. Along with an endless supply of calorie-free-yet-still-delicious pnut m&ms. I'd tell you my idea for the 3rd wish, but I haven't narrowed it down yet, and you just can't be too hasty in making these important life decisions. So.]

Ahem. Since I've worn pants the past couple of days, a skirt was in order. But no pencil skirt. (I definitely overestimated my desire to wear pencil skirts during this 30x30) Which leaves magic skirt. I almost wore the print side, but it's snowy and chilly and I wanted to be warmer with boots (for the four-thousandth time this week) and some colored tights.

Solid shirt, solid skirt, solid tights, and solid footwear. Normally I don't do this.much.solid.color. But today I left it alone. Simple belt, hairstyle, and a watch as my only other accessory. I think the color of the tights just ties in the whole look here. A bit Unexpected and Maybe Awesome.

Speaking of unexpected... *snap*

Nuts. Dishes are still dirty. Never hurts to try, though, right? *snap* Okay. I'll sto*snap*p. No really. Don*snap*e. I wanted to wash the dishes by hand anyways. So. Joke's on you, Poppins.

[Editor's note: Outtakes below. Legitimate pose attempts in all their magnificent embarrassingness. I have nothing to say for myself, 'cept that a Magic Snap would reeeeeally come in handy right about now. Clean these right off all our computers.]



Happy Friday.

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pardon me, ma'am...is that thar all you's food?

All right. It's official. I'm getting too old and delusional to think that my contortion below even sliiiiightly resembles the number eight. Check it:

Color me embarrassed. And inflexible. And anything that doesn't resemble 8.

boots & watch: target. socks: smith's marketplace. jeans: kohl's. sweater: j. crew. blazer: thrifted (the limited). belt: pocket's. flower: gifted/homemade.

Yesterday I went grocery shopping. First time in a long time. As in, our fridge was down to about a tablespoon of ketchup and some moldy cheese, which was actually going to be last night's dessert, but after having feasted on the last of the mustard and some bendable celery, we simply couldn't eat another bite. My lucky lucky family.

So. Me. In checkout line. Buying groceries. [Editor's note: Not that much, all things considered. Some produce, some meat, some breaded items. Some milk. Some chex mix. Not even pnut m&ms!]

  

When allsofasudden the man behind me says, all flirty-like [Editor's note: I think it goes without saying, but just in case: EW. and ???] “Heyyy, do you live out in the woods or something?” Inferring that I had a lot of groceries…enough, maybe, to survive the rest of the winter deep in a wooded area. I kind of smiled awkwardly and shook my head and started to "look" for something deep in my purse, a.k.a. "get off me." He registered a bit high on the oily-creep scale. Like a 9.8. Falling below a perfect-10 only because he didn't sport a large gold chain around a bare, hairy white chest. But he was just that close.

Then he started bragging to the nice grocery clerk about a song he wrote recently. He’s a songwriter. He writes songs. SONG. WRITER. My my my, aren’t we just the epitome of urban cool. And oh-so-studly that you buy your lunch of Red Bull and gum on the daily. 

Heaven forbid you buy carrots, let alone 5 pounds of them at once. Sure, those ribs in my cart are “country style,” but that doesn’t mean I milk a cow every morning. Or maybe I do (I don’t), right next to the moon-carved outhouse door and buckets o' pig slop and mucking boots. I’ll never ever tell. (But I don’t.) I just happen to not love grocery shopping, so I try to get it over with. Geesh.

Anyway. I escaped the uncomfortable situation unscathed, pulling my now seemingly 8-cart train of groceries toward my waiting backhoe in the parking lot. For all he knows, next time I make it into Town might be 6 months from now, after the Spring Thaw and Calving Time. 

[Editor's note: I'd go on, but I can't think of any more rustic analogies or phrases. Nuts. My cover is blown.]

Happy Tuesday.

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a barbie by any other name (not even 2nd cousin "barb") wouldn't smell as sweet.

Contrary to popular belief, the number two isn't as easy to replicate as it might seem. Don't tell me you haven't discussed this with at least three of your closest friends, either.

shoes: steve madden. jeans & striped sweater: american eagle outfitters. shirt: j.crew. watch: target. earrings: hawaii. flower barrette: forever 21.

A few days ago I was playing barbies with my 4-year-old, and the pillow was Mermaid Rock, and the barbies were going to have a party there. My barbie tried to get the party started by getting her groove on (she has some sweet dance moves. like me. I could rock a dance floor. and have. and will again.) [Editor's note: Which would all be absolutely true if I wasn't lying...]

Anyway. Layla's barbie politely informed mine that, "Sorry, we don't dance at this party."
Mine: "Oh. Okay." [Long, awkward barbie pause.] "Soooo...what do we do?"
Layla: "Um, I dunno. Talk about gowns?"

So that's exactly how our barbies partied. In fake high-pitched southern drawls that, coincidentally, my daughter and I both naturally use for barbie's default voice-over.

Fast-forward to my hot date with late-night TV last night (sure missing Pocket around here. Especially when I remembered, too late, that today's garbage day and I didn't take the trash out.) and an old episode of What Not To Wear, when someone quoted Coco Chanel as saying something to the effect of, "When you get dressed, put everything on, then take one thing off."

I have no idea if this is true or not. But I will say this: I almost busted out a necklace with today's ensemble, but then I didn't. I think Coco would be proud. In fact, her people totally called my people today to express just such a sentiment. FINE, they didn't. But they wanted to, I just know it. Regardless, you all can start calling me Brittbritt. In high-pitched accents. Obviously.

Happy Wednesday!

How I last wore these pieces: boyfriend jeans, striped sweater, mustard shirt.

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our ship has come in...and it's a raft made of toothpicks...

 shoes: candies brand. jeans: so bran. shirt: j.crew. necklace: don't recall. flower hairthing: handmade/gifted.

Pocket and I received an unexpected check in the mail. For $0.07. Yes, you read that right. 7 big ones. What wealth! What sheer and utter bounty! As you can imagine, we've already spent it a hundred, maybe a thousand, times in our minds. Sure, we could save it for the kids' college, but...what can I say, we're creatures of immediate gratification.

No, but, really. Hi, Mr. QA Inspector of the check-issuing department? Question for you: Shouldn't there be some sort of red flag alert where, if the amount of the check itself is 1/6th the cost of the postage required to mail it, then just forget the whole thing? Or at LEAST just send us 7 sour watermelon penny candies instead. Something useful or delicious.

As for myself, I can't wait to see the faces of the 9-to-5ers at the bank drive-thru as I cash out the loot. Hope they have enough in the vault to cover it. "I'd like that in small change, please." Maybe I'll say that with an English accent. With airs.

Okay. Moving on. But, really quick: I hope none of you are jealous of us. One day Karma will return equally good tidings to you as well. Patience, grasshopper.

Speaking of grasshoppers, what do you think of my shirt? [Editor's note: I seriously should not even attempt segways. Obviously. Exhibit A: That last one. Ouch.] I happen to love this shirt. It's a lightweight number, which means it feels nice and comfy and casual when I wear it, but with the hint of a cowl neck, it looks fancified.

Not that everything has to be either casual or fancy. A blend is nice, too. Which I think is my favorite Unexpected and Maybe Awesome part of this ensemble--there're enough hints of both sophisticated and girl-next-door that you don't know which way I'm headed. I like that. It's mysterious. Kind of like getting a 7-cent check in the mail. Actually, nope. Not quite that mysterious.

So. Dark wash skinny jeans (yep, wore these puppies yesterday. yep, will probably wear them just about every day for the rest of winter. yep, apparently I don't believe in hygiene. join me.), mustard top [Editor's note: For such an un-delicious condiment, it sure is a pretty color.], and simple chunky-heeled mary janes. I cuffed the jeans so you could appreciate the mary jane-ness, and I like how it adds a bit of whimsy. Especially paired with pearls.

Welp, I'm off to do some imaginary shopping. Can I get you anything?

Happy Tuesday.

Want this look? cowl tee   dark wash jeans   mary janes   faux pearls

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