keep a pastel skirt from floating away...

 shoes: ebay (cato brand). skirt: american eagle. jacket: kohl's. watch: target. bracelet: burntsiena designs. belt & necklace: forever21. undershirt & flower pin: downeast basics.

Happy Mothers Day! For today's photo shoot, and as part of her celebratory contribution, my 5-year-old wanted to decide on the poses and have me copy them for each shot. She tried to trick me and would switch it up at the last second. A delightful and entertaining time, even if the photos themselves didn't turn out the best (it's super dark and grey outside, so the lighting is...how shall I say...crappy in my house).

This week I'm grateful for:

- lindor chocolate truffles.

- and, on a related note, Mothers Day. Specifically for the kidlets that make the celebration personal for me. And for my own mama.

- rocking chairs.

- weeks when kids aren't sick.

- the magic of a pinata and the joy in the eyes of every kid reaping its pummel-induced bounty.

- the public library.

- my husband. He is a fabulous component of humankind.

- wearing a tank top on my jog!!! (translation: it was warm enough this week. finally!)

- references to King of Queens. That show = hilar.

- talking girl-talk over delicious cake with 2 of my closest girlfriends for "20 minutes." An hour (and a half?) later...

- non-nasty toothpaste.

- books. A glorious stack of endless books that bespeaks giddiness when I get a chance to read them.

Happy Sunday!

to wear clothes or to let them wear me...THAT is the question.

sandals: don't recall (old as the hills). jeans: american eagle. denim shirt: thrifted (gap). vest: old navy. bracelet: burntsiena designs. necklace: forever21. flower clip: downeast basics. earrings: open jewelry market in hawaii.

A few years ago, I bought a puffy vest with a removable faux-fur-lined hood on it. I never removed the hood, despite its sometimes interfering with that day's ensemble, because I figured, "If the designers put it here, they know best...who am I to say their idea's no good?" Same for shirtsleeves--if they were buttoned at the wrist, then, by jove, I'd keep them buttoned.

(Did I just say "by jove"? I did? Crap. My secret's out...I'm really a 72-year-old man posing as a young mommy style blogger.)

Collars? Belts? Cardigan-shirt sets? Same thing. I assumed that clothing was designed a certain way for a reason, and as a Joe-Schmoe (or, rather, Joe's sister, Jane-Schmane), I certainly couldn't claim expertise above a designer's vision. I think this narrow mindset put me on the fast-track to several style pitfalls:

(1) With limited stylability options of my existing wardrobe, I had to either purchase more stuff or sit on the sidelines and watch others waltz freshly and fashionably (dare I say glibly? yes, I dare) and glibly by. Which is an awesome feeling. Ohp. Wait. No it's not.

(2) Becaues they had few uses (in my wear-it-as-it-comes-and-ONLY-as-it-comes mindset), my clothing purchases were usually cheap...on all counts.

(3) My creativity was stinted, as I couldn't (wouldn't?) let myself look outside the box to mix and match, modify, tuck, switch out, etc. Unless, of course, said box had dumped out a pair of jeans and a tee and they happened to be lying by the side of the box when I got up in the morning. Thanks, Box. I'll wear these today.

It was up until just a short time ago that I realized this: (Are you ready? Super-huge epiphany forthcoming. You'll probably never be the same person after reading this, so say your goodbyes to the life you once knew. Embarking on unchartered waters here.)

(ahem) Clothing in and of itself is a mere jumping-off point. Anyone can go buy Dress X at the store and wear it. It's not the dress itself, per se, that embodies one's style, although some clothing items do indeed indicate one's style preferences. Rather, it's what one does with a particular garment, how s/he makes it her/his own, that is the shaping and molding of what will come to be personal style.

Why oh why did I waste decades not knowing this? It's so liberating! I can do whatever I want with my clothes because they're mine all mine! They don't own me...I own them! Muuhahahahahaaaaaa!!!

(Ew. Weird. And creepy. But mostly just weird.)

So. Here's to us all. May we find the courage and desire to roll up a long sleeve, belt a jacket, cut off a pair of jeans, sew buttons on a wrap, turn scarf into skirt and skirt into shirt, pop a collar, break up a suit. The possibilities are virtually limitless.

See what I'm wearing above? Denim on denim? One of my #1 Fashion Faux Pas. And the shirt's sleeves are supposed to be long--the double snaps at the wrist prove it. And a sweater vest shouldn't go with denim. And the necklace was "meant" to be doubled around, not worn long to my navel.

I'd continue listing the rules I'm breaking, but I have to stop typing because I need a hand to pat myself on the back.

Happy HAPPY Monday!

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ode to the squeaky wheel's Discovery...

 shoes: mudd brand (i think). jeans: kohl's. shirt: old navy. cardigan: rue21. necklace: don't recall. flower clip: downeast basics. watch: target.

Remember how sometimes the squeaky wheel gets the grease? [Editor's note: But one must be careful in the manner and timing of said squeakiness, because SOMEtimes the squeaky wheel gets sent to Time Out until s/he is 18 and old enough to move out. So. Buyer beware.] 

Well, not to brag (but, actually, yes to totally brag), but I think all my squeakiness about the annoying winter weather around here has worn Mother Nature down. Marginally, at least. She's sent the sun, my house's roof is currently sans snow, the lawn is nearly green with just small patches of the white stuff (like where we built a snowman and a snow fridge last week...yes, a snow fridge. What, you don't build those? Odd.), and my house's heater is able to take its own type of spring break, at least during daytime.

Hoo to the ray!!! You're welcome, neighbors and local friends. I've got our backs...

But. Now that I've unleashed the Power of the Squeak, I think I'll strategize its direction. Which may or may not (but most assuredly does) involve squeakings about magically inheriting $millions$, putting in a backyard swimming pool, and having Mr. J. Crew himself hire me as a clothing tester. If you need me, I'll be over there in that corner, revving up my non-WD-40'd engines...

Happy Wednesday!

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snain, snain, go a-snay...

 shoes: converse brand. jeans & jacket: kohl's. shirt: gap. belt: don't recall. bracelet: forever21. flower hair clips: gift. earrings: hawaii.

Hey guys. It's Friend Friday, topic:

What are the top 5 Spring trends that you are looking forward to seeing/sporting this season?

1. Salmon/coral colored anything.

2. Maxi dresses.

3. Strappy metallic sandals.

4. Floralicious...ness.

5. Skirts skirts skirts. And more skirts.

Welp. There you have it. Quite possibly the shortest post you'll ever read on this blog. Enjoy it while it lasts...

...because it's not lasting long. Remember how, just yesterday, it was totally springy and warm and sunny outside in my world? Guess who now has substantial evidence to prove, beyond reasonable doubt, Mother Nature's bipolarity? Yeah, ME. Because today is snaining (my pet name for nasty snow-rain), dark and gloomy, cold. Boo.

When I was younger, I always wanted to live somewhere it rained a lot. Like Seattle or Portland. I found the gloom of a rainy day somewhat cozy and heartwarming. I also liked a boy with a mullet in 5th grade. So. Nothing against Seattle or Portland. It's just that my pre-teen preferences were questionable and shouldn't be used against me now.

But there's a silver lining to the snain. It's spelled "s-i-l-v-e-r l-i-n-i-n-g" but is pronounced "mint chocolate chip ice cream with homemade hot fudge sauce." Mmmm...

Happy Friday.

p.s. Check out my guest post for No Guilt Fashion's Mom Week!

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color me grateful.

 pants& tee: gap. blazer: thrifted (the limited). belt: kohl's. pin: don't recall. watch: target. 

This week I'm grateful for:

- spring break.

- LDS General Conference.

- the sweet and overwhelming peace and comfort, despite sadness, that sometimes accompanies the passing away of a loved one. We will love Grampa Boyd forever.

- a day or two where I could glimpse a future that involved sunny skies, warm temps, and outdoor playtime.

- mother-daughter fingernail painting sessions. Or, as my daughter calls it, 'thingernail'.

- digital cameras.

- a husband who, knowing I had several laaaate nights of work, disappeared himself to the grocery store and returned with "provisions" for me. None of which were healthy, all of which were my favorites.

- a 6-year-old son who stays up late, then sneaks out of his room and throws a paper airplane down at me, which, when opened up, reads in careful penmanship (and I quote): "I love with all my heart. When mother's day comes I will by you a speashil Gift. Best wishs." Covered in hearts. And, as I hug and kiss him in thanks, he starts tearing up because he knows he's made me happy. Cutest ever, right?

- being able to clean my house in an hour and a half, when I put my mind to it.

- I put my mind to it.

- toothpaste.

- having a puppy. Having kids who play with the puppy. Having a kid who will clean up the evidence of puppy-ness in the backyard. Dah well. Two out of three ain't bad.

- life in general.

Best wishs. Happy Sunday.

here comes the sun (doo doo doo doo...)

Frame 1: First shot of the day. Whatevs. 

Frame 2: Whooooooaaahh! There's SUN here!

Frame 3: Charlie! Look! That's called "sunlight"...

shoes: don't recall. dress: gift/hand-me-down. cardigan: j.crew. belt: kohl's (skirt/belt combo). bracelet: forever21. flower: downeast basics. necklace: gift.

This week I'm grateful for (in no particular order):

- Optional leg-shaving because it's winter...won't be the case too much longer, and I'm sure I'll miss it.

- Reassurance.

- Sunshine...on my shoulder...makes me hap-pyyyyy. (John Denver)

- John Denver. No, seriously. Who doesn't love "Annie's Song" and "Rocky Mtn High" and others? And if you say you don't, I probably won't believe you.

- 75 MPH speed limits. And an unspoken Utah 5-MPH buffer. Although I've been trying to not take advantage of that, so I set the cruise control for just 3 MPH over the speed limit. Just look at my almost-law-abiding self.

- Ikea. Especially the frozen yogurt ice cream cones. Is it just me, or are those, like, super unexpectedly delicious? Just me? Fine. I'll eat yours...

- Hand-me-downs.

- My husband. Adorable and adored. Same goes for the kiddos.

- Evidences of mankind's goodness and humanity. Makes me tear up sometimes. People are so, well, good.

- God. I just really felt His love for me--plain, average, insignificant me--in some pretty special, specific ways this week. So beautiful. So humbling.

- Jogging again after a long winter's hiatus.

- Not having blisters.

Happy Sunday.

cookies bring Inception to life...

Baby steps for three more days of doing those numbers... Will someone remind me next time that I'm just too old and creaky? Pretty please?

booties: steve madden. jeans: american eagle. polka dot top & blazer: thrifted (but...old navy & the limited). belt: forever21. flower pin: downeast outfitters. watch: target.

Sometimes my world moves verrrrry slooooowly. Like right now. I'm sitting here in the kitchen, listening to my puppy snore, my 2-year-old talk about how pretty she'll look at her wedding (??? and again I say ???), and my 4-year-old and her BFF giggling adorably over their newly created play-doh Ice Cream Flower Garden. It's like time has stopped for a few minutes, because I'm fully invested in the moment called Now.

Of course, one can always take that time-stand-still mindset to an uncomfortable extreme. Like I did, when I (again) thought I could pull off double braids. C'mon, though. A blazer totally cancels out the juvenility (yep, made that one up...I think...), and then I've still got on heels, so I figure I'm 1 point in the positive for dressing my age. Two points if you count the watch, which means I could've actually tied ribbons around the braids, too. Next time.

Speaking of Now, there are some leftover snickerdoodles sitting on the counter that won't be here Later. And if that kind of time-manipulation speak confuses you, I don't recommend watching Inception. Or riding in elevators. Just in case.

Happy Monday.

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Saturday brevity

shoes: union bay brand. jeans: american eagle outfitters. shirt & belt: forever21. jacket: kohl's. necklace & flower clip: gifted. bracelet: don't recall. earrings: hawaii.

I love it when Pocket goes shopping. He gets stuff like oranges and pnut m&ms and a kinect for the xbox 360. Which is why today's post is so short. I'm off to make my body into the controller and exhibit the reflexes of a cat. A nearly-dead bedraggled on-its-8th-life alleycat feline. But a cat nonetheless.

Happy Saturday!

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i don't think they're calling me mellow yellow (that's right)...

 shoes: steve madden. socks: smiths marketplace. skirt & cardigan: j.crew. shirt: gap. scarf: forever21. flower hairclip: downeast outfitters.

I dunno, guys. I was totally uninspired today by my 30x30 items this morning, lounging lazily in my closet and doing their best to ignore me. I feel like I've made all the obvious matches, you know? So bear with me over the next two weeks, as the UNobvious becomes the everyday. But the good news (for all of us) is that, as day 15, the glass is half done.

So. Non-inspiration typically equates to either totally mundane or...how do I put it...totally odd. Heh. Guess what I went for today. I'm commiting all sorts of fashion faux paus here--t-shirt with pencil skirt, socks with sandals, two bright & bold patterns competing with each other, not to mention the socially-unacceptable exposure of pasty-white knees. Meh. I'm not even fazed, though. That's what happens when I eat too much sugar the day before. I turn into a rebel without a clue.

Speaking of Tom Petty lyrics...does anyone else just LOVE the song "free falling"? A timeless classic, if you ask me. (Which you didn't, but I'm the one typing here, so I can pretend anything I want.) When I'm jogging and Free Falling comes around on my playlist, I get a huge (probably psycho) smile on my face, bee-bop of my head, and rhythm to my stride. Basically, for about 3 minutes, I become an oblivious one-woman circus bopping along the side of the road. But a themed Free Fallin' circus. Which HAS to be better than any Barnum & Bailey number. 'Cept the elephants. That's a definite feather in their cap.

[Editor's note: I almost made a joke that compared my thighs to an elephant's. But, although potentially mildly humorous, it's rude, even (especially?) coming from oneself. So I didn't. I'm just learning to fly, guys.] [Assistant Editor's note: If you're unfamiliar with Tom Petty, you should probably just ignore this entire post. We apologize for the decade-specific references. It's the last dance with Mary Jane, I promise.]

Breaking rules or no, I feel a bit Unexpected and Maybe Awesome today. Hope you do, too.
Happy Tuesday!

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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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they call it puppy love...

In my head, my body loooked smaller and my arms were much, much larger. I guess, in the grand scheme of things, I'd rather have a lame-looking number four than those proportions, though. So.

shoes: american eagle outfitters. legwarmers: amazon (i think). tights: don't recall. skirt & shirt: gap. cardigan: j.crew. flower pin: downeast outfitters.

Charlie really wanted to be part of today's photo shoot. I tried to get him to look at the camera so you could see how cute he is, but he could only feast his brown puppy-dog eyes [Editor's note: No, seriously. They really are brown, and he really is a puppy.] on me. Because he loves me with that one-of-a-kind love that exists only between a dog and his beloved owner...and, in Charlie's case, between him and any human being who pets him and gives him treats. (Remind me why I'm a dog owner again? Oh, right. Because shoveling the backyard is so fun. I forgot.)

Actually, we were reading all about canines before we picked what kind of dog we wanted last Fall. In one of our books on boxers, we read that this breed tends to be fiercely loyal and protective; that they can sense if their loved ones are afraid or wary of someone and will compensate with protective bravery. After picking out our puppy, our 6-year-old son informed us, "Don't worry guys. I'll be so so nice to you so Charlie won't attack you."

Thank you, son. Because your dad and I were both quivering at the idea of an 8-week-old puppy attack. And also? Go clean your room.

Happy Pocket-Gets-Home-Today Friday! What, you're not celebrating too? Strange.

How I wore these items last: skirt, cardigan, leg warmers, ruffle shirt

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