Author: Big Mama

Edition 65: Fashion Friday

A few days ago I got into a lengthy, meaningful discussion with some friends about the appropriateness of wearing white pants or jeans after Labor Day. We agreed that it doesn’t seem fair to have to surrender the white fashion option when it’s still 90 degrees outside and I questioned whether or not it would be okay for me to wear my white jeans when I go to Orlando next weekend. I mean, it’s Florida for goodness sake. Anyone who’s ever watched an episode of Miami Vice knows they let you wear anything down there.

We never really reached a decision that I felt good about. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to wear white jeans and risk being mocked and ridiculed in public. And then I’d have to tell my grandmother that it’s a new day for fashion and the rules from the 1940’s don’t necessarily apply.

So when I got home I decided to turn to the internet for guidance and direction because heaven knows the internet contains only factual information. Thanks to the internet I know to never adopt a stray dog on the beach because I could get it home and bathe it only to find out it’s a nutria rat. I know this really happened to someone because I read about it ON THE INTERNET.

Shockingly, the internet was filled with conflicting information about wearing white after Labor Day and the origins of the rule. It made me feel tired and confused. So I did what I always do when I feel tired and confused and went to bed.

Then yesterday I received an email from my friend Holly and she was wondering about my decision to pack away my white jeans because she’d heard that all the fashion magazines are saying it’s okay to wear white year round.

This led me to do about four and a half minutes of further research and I’ve decided that the no white after Labor Day rule applies to handbags, linen, eyelet, gauzy sundresses, and shoes.

(Honestly, I kind of think the only time anyone should wear white shoes is if she happens to be a bride or a go-go dancer or three years old)

I’ve decided that today’s fashion climate allows for white jeans and/or pants to transition into fall and winter clothing provided that the rest of your color palette has a fall feel. Think white jeans with a black jacket or a charcoal gray sweater.

Of course maybe I’m just being swayed by the fact that I really want to wear my white jeans for a little while longer.

I’d love to hear what y’all think about the no white after Labor Day rule.

Now for a few questions:

1. Rebecca asks: “How do people make belts work when the dress doesn’t have belt loops?? I’ve seen it done and I just can’t figure out how.”

I wish I could tell you that there is some secret belt formula but, as far as I know, there’s not. The key for me is to find a belt that fits properly depending on whether I want to wear it cinched around my waist or slung low across my hips.

Or you could always take the dress to a tailor and have her add some belt loops to keep your belt secure. I will say that I don’t recommend trying to use double stick tape because, while it seems like a good idea in theory, it’s a good way to end up with little wads of tape falling from your waistline.

If anyone has any suggestions, I’d love to hear them in the comments.

All of a sudden I feel like this is the Fashion Friday that will finally expose the fact that I am really not any kind of fashion expert but, rather, a girl who just likes to shop and sometimes manages to look put together.

2. Maggie asks: “What’s a girl to wear to a semi-fancy affair such as a rehearsal dinner or a night out on the town/nice dinner with the significant other or an after-hours work party?”

Considering that I put on makeup for the first time in a week yesterday, I’m not entirely sure that I remember what a girl wears for a nice evening out on the town or any kind of party. I do feel fairly certain that it doesn’t involve Nike running shorts and an Adidas t-shirt.

You can never go wrong with a basic little black dress. The right one can be a timeless piece that can be dressed up or down depending on the occasion. I have a black dress in my closet right now that I bought at least seven years ago and I’ve worn it to everything from funerals to weddings. At the time I felt guilty because it wasn’t cheap, but I have more than gotten my money out of that dress.

But sometimes a girl isn’t in the mood for a basic black dress. You could always wear a printed maxi dress or a cute little one-shouldered dress in a fun print.

Something like this dress from J.Crew is also a darling choice. If you’re feeling really daring then you could go with a jumpsuit. (I know that’s a frightening word, but it can be a good look)

And finally, you can go with a great pair of pants and dress them up with a pretty ruffled top.

You also may want to put on some makeup.

I just added that last part for me because, seriously, physician heal thyself.

3. MIchelle asks: “How do you wear boots? Do you tuck the jeans in and if so, what jeans work best?”

There is really no right or wrong way to wear boots, but the trend right now is to wear jeans or leggings tucked into boots. The issue is that this requires a skinny jean unless you want to spend the better half of your day trying to stuff a flared leg into a boot. It defies the natural laws of physics.

Not that I know the natural laws of physics, but I feel confident that this goes against nature and may even cause you to throw a boot against the wall of your closet. Hypothetically speaking.

But if the skinny jean isn’t for you, feel free to wear boots with your jeans over them. You can always show off a cute pair of boots by wearing a skirt with them instead of pants.

God bless America, land of the free and home of people who can wear boots however they choose.

That’s all for today because I’m exhausted from the minutes of research I did for the great white jeans debate of ’09.

Y’all have a great Friday.
Not available in stores

So after writing the longest post in history yesterday about cinnamon rolls and Mariah Carey, I am totally out of words. I have nothing.

But I do have to show you what Caroline made for me yesterday. She is completely obsessed with my iPhone and decided that I really needed a fancier case. Apparently the hot pink one I chose is so last year because on the way home from school she asked, “Wouldn’t you like a prettier case for your phone?”

“No, not really. You don’t like my hot pink case?”

“Nope. I don’t. You need something beautiful like maybe a rainbow case with my hand print on it.”

“Well I didn’t see anything like that in the store but if I ever do I’ll make sure to buy one.”

Because what grown woman doesn’t crave the sophistication that a rainbow phone case implies?

Later on I was cleaning up the kitchen or maybe eating what was left of the cinnamon rolls. She walked in and announced that she’d made something for me.

It’s a brand new case for my phone.

Made out of computer paper, Scotch tape and Crayola markers. (Patent Pending)

And I will carry it until it completely falls apart.
And you’ll finally see the truth that a cinnamon roll lies in you

About a month ago I decided that, much like Martin Luther King, Jr., I had a dream. I was going to include Mariah Carey in that sentence because I thought her song Love Takes Time began with the phrase “I had a dream but I let it slip away”. Sadly, I was mistaken. She sings, “I had it all but I let it slip away”.

So now I actually have two dreams. First, my original dream that I haven’t mentioned yet, and, secondly, the ability to accurately remember the lyrics to Mariah Carey songs.

I’ve always believed that if you’re going to dream, dream big.

Here’s my original dream.

Back in June, I spent the weekend at my friend Ree’s ranch. We had a great time and I had the opportunity to ride a horse named Peso in what was possibly the worst display of horsemanship ever exhibited on their land. It makes my bottom hurt just to think about it.

The morning we left to head back to the big city, Ree brought us four pans of her homemade cinnamon rolls. I’d seen the recipe on her website at least a year before but was all, whatever, I have a friend named Mrs. Baird who totally sells her cinnamon rolls at the grocery store in plastic packaging and why would I want to spend all kinds of time making homemade dough and hoeing crops in the hot sun?”

Not that you have to hoe crops in the hot sun to make the cinnamon rolls, but my thought was that if you’re willing to make your own dough then it’s not a stretch to assume you might hoe some crops.

But then came the fateful morning that I actually tasted one or eight of those cinnamon rolls and I knew my life would not be complete unless I could eat them whenever I wanted. And since the rising cost of fuel prohibits us from using our personal lear jet as much as we used to, I knew it wasn’t going to be an option to fly to the ranch every morning for fresh baked cinnamon rolls.

Also, I wasn’t invited to fly to the ranch every morning.

I told Ree I would love to make them but was frightened by the dough-making process because it seems to be a task that requires “skills” and “cooking ability”. She assured me that it was very simple, but I didn’t really believe her because she seriously has written her very own cookbook that’s about to be published and everything like a real piece of literature. I figured Ree telling me making dough is easy was the equivalent of Michelangelo listening to someone rave about the beauty of the Sistine Chapel and saying “What? That old thing? No big deal. I just had some extra time and paint on my hands. A monkey could have done it.”

Months passed since I’d had one of those cinnamon rolls, but I couldn’t quit thinking about them. And somewhere deep inside my soul or my stomach, a dream was born. A dream of making pans upon pans of those homemade cinnamon rolls, wrapping them in festive green and red cellophane tied with ribbon so sparkly it practically screams “MERRY CHRISTMAS”, and giving them out to every neighbor, garbage man, and UPS delivery man within a twenty-mile radius during the holidays.

I believe my feelings about it are best summed up in these classic words from Mariah, “I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need.” The need to make homemade cinnamon rolls.

All I want for Christmas is you.

As with most lofty dreams, I had to conquer my fears. My fear of failure and packages of active dry yeast and recipes that call for nine cups of flour and use phrases like “if it starts to splurge out of the pan, just punch it down”.

I’m sorry, but I generally stay away from foods that may need to be wrestled to the ground. With the exception of Lifesaver Gummie Sours because everyone knows if you get two of those suckers stuck together, it’s going to take some effort to pull them apart.

I officially began my journey last Thursday when I went to HEB with a list of all the required ingredients. Everything was pretty straightforward until I began to peruse the selection of yeast. (There’s a sentence I never thought I’d use.)

I had no idea that yeast came in so many forms. Who are all these people making delicious things from scratch and why aren’t they bringing any of it over to my house?

Ultimately I decided to purchase the packages of Fleischmann’s Active Dry Yeast and you can imagine my delight when I got home and realized that’s exactly what Ree uses for her dough. I’m clearly a natural.

The only thing I couldn’t find was maple flavoring. HEB doesn’t believe its customers have any need to make anything with a hint of maple flavor. (They also don’t believe people need to purchase Tyson Roasted Chicken Breasts which is a whole other issue that I won’t get into right now) At times like this it would be really convenient to just run to another grocery store, but here in South Texas we don’t have another grocery store. Unless you count the Walmart.

Which I don’t.

Also, Walmart didn’t have the maple flavoring either.

I decided to move forward in spite of this little hitch in the process, especially because it wasn’t going to be an issue until I got to the part where I make the icing and I wasn’t really sure I’d ever get that far because the dough might beat me to a pulp and leave me hanging on to a very thin thread of sanity in my kitchen.

Here is how I spent Friday morning in what is truly a horrendous food pictorial.

I started by scalding some stuff in a pan.

Once it was scalded, I added eight cups of flour. EIGHT CUPS.

And then I covered it up and left to go to Target for about an hour. I came home to this.

I can’t lie. It scared me. I’ve never dealt with foods that grow of their own free will. Other than vegetables obviously, but they don’t grow in a pot in my kitchen while I’m looking at Mossimo merchandise.

But I didn’t let it get the best of me. I punched it down, grabbed half the dough and began to roll it into a rectangular formation on a well-floured surface just like the recipe said.

I can’t even explain how much I had to fight my desire to cut it into a perfect rectangle. A rectangle that would make geometry teachers everywhere weep with joy. But I fought my OCD tendencies and just went with it.

I poured butter over the surface of the not-at-all-shaped-like-a-rectangle shaped rectangle of dough.

And that’s when tragedy almost struck.

I came within millimeters of sprinkling my precious dough covered in butter and sugar with a healthy dose of cumin instead of cinnamon. Something tells me it wouldn’t have been the start of a new taste sensation because it’s so rare that you hear anyone say, “You know what would taste great? A sweet pastry that tastes like taco meat.”

Fortunately, it all turned out okay and I began to roll up the rectangle into a big roll.

And made one heck of a mess in the process. I think I used a superfluous amount of butter if that’s even possible.

Then I began to cut the dough and, next thing I knew, I had this.

And, ultimately, I had these.

P sampled them when they were fresh out of the oven and declared them to be delicious. His only complaint was the icing was so sweet that it kind of made his teeth hurt. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it might be because I substituted Aunt Jemima maple syrup for maple flavoring.

I was desperate.

SInce I still had half the dough left, I decided to wait until Saturday to make the rest of the rolls and figure out a solution to the shortage of maple flavoring in my area. Sophie suggested that I might want to try Whole Foods and, sure enough, I was able to find all-natural, completely organic maple flavoring that had been harvested by beavers just that morning for approximately the cost of Caroline’s college tuition.

I baked the rest of the rolls and iced half of them with Ree’s icing that calls for the maple flavoring. And then, because I am totally adventurous, I iced the other half with a recipe that called for 2 cups confectioners’ sugar, 1 (3 ounce) package cream cheese, 1 tablespoon butter, 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract and 3 tablespoons milk.

Either way, they were delicious.

By Saturday evening I had eight pans of cinnamon rolls when all was said and done. I’ll never tell how many we ate as opposed to how many I gave away.

Ree was right, they’re actually pretty easy to make. I mean, I did it and I’m a person who spent thirty minutes trying to make a decision about active dry yeast and jumped back in fear when I saw dough rising out of a pot.

In the words of Mariah Carey, I had a vision of love (or cinnamon rolls) and it was all that they’ve given to me.

You can find Ree’s recipe by clicking here.
Where there’s smoke, there isn’t always fire. Or even smoke.

I hate to speak ill of anyone and certainly hate to spread rumors, but yesterday I decided it was time to clean out the playroom because Caroline was out shopping for new hunting boots with P and the time was right to throw away some Polly Pocket accessories whose matches long ago became victims of the vacuum cleaner. In the midst of the cleaning out process I discovered that by all appearances, Barbie has opened a nudist colony in the large yellow bin and invited all of her friends. I haven’t seen that many plastic boobs since the last time I watched an episode of Real Housewives of Orange County.

The rest of our weekend was decidedly less sordid. On Friday afternoon we attended a birthday party at the Country Club for W and E’s two-year-old twin girls. Caroline was by far the biggest kid there which still manages to surprise me because wasn’t it just yesterday that she was peeing in the baby pool with all the other toddlers?

We had a great time swimming until dark clouds rolled in and what can only be described as an air raid siren worthy of WWII began blaring loudly. I was certain we were under some sort of attack and began searching for the nearest bomb shelter, only to discover the siren was merely an indicator that lightning had been spotted in the area and everyone needed to get out of the pool. Those Country Club members really get their money’s worth because at our neighborhood pool all we get is Coach whistling with his fingers and yelling “Whoa now, y’all get on outta the pool before you fry”. Granted, it’s a lot less jarring but it lacks the drama of an air raid siren that can be heard sixty miles away and makes you fear that your life is in imminent danger.

On Saturday, P and Caroline decided to go dove hunting and while they were gone I spent my time doing important things like catching up on all the DVRed television that wasn’t going to watch itself and flipping back and forth between various college football games. Finally, at 6:00 p.m. it was time for the Aggie game to start and I discovered the beauty that is CBS gametracker. I mean, watching digital men play football on a computerized football screen isn’t quite as good as the real thing, but it’s better than just following along on the radio like I was forced to do in ye olden days.

By the time my people arrived home, the Aggies were on their way to certain victory and I managed to get Caroline fed, bathed and in the bed in about thirty-five minutes which is a new personal record. It helped that she was exhausted and just did what I told her to do without debating the unfairness of life and bedtimes.

It also didn’t hurt that I let her sleep in our bed, which turned out to be a good thing because at 4:34 a.m. the smoke alarms in our house began BLARING. BLARING LOUDLY. BLARING in a way that makes you sit straight up and look at the clock because you want to remember what time it was when your life came to an end.

For the second time in a 48 hour period I was having WWII flashbacks and the urge to scream “RUN FOR COVER”. It didn’t help the situation that we’d watched a little bit of Band of Brothers only hours earlier. Which probably explains my WWII flashbacks since I wasn’t actually alive during WWII.

Anyway, P jumped up and grabbed the flashlight he always keeps next to his bed because he is the safety police and is ALWAYS PREPARED for an emergency. He and his flashlight searched the entire house trying to detect any signs of fire and/or smoke and/or German soldiers, but there was nothing. Plus, the smoke alarm quit going off about ten seconds after it started so everything seemed okay. Maybe it was just a random occurrence.

We all curled back up and peacefully dozed for eight minutes before it did it again. Repeat entire previous scenario. And then six minutes later it did it again. Rinse and repeat.

P got out of bed and flipped the breaker that controls the smoke alarms. Problem solved.

Until four minutes later.

(By the way, these intervals are my best guess because I was somewhere in between an adrenaline-fueled state and dead asleep. Basically, the same state I’m in almost every day.)

Apparently, one of the detectors is faulty and was causing all its hard-wired brethren to go off every time it went off. P got out of bed for good at 5:00 a.m. and solved the problem by taking down every last smoke detector and smashing them all in the middle of the street.

Actually, he didn’t smash them in the street but I know him well enough to know that he wanted to. Instead, they were all lined up in a row on our dining room table when Caroline and I finally woke up at 9:00 on Sunday morning.

Currently, they are spread out in different locations while we try to pinpoint which one is the rogue alarm that was causing all the problems. And when I say we are trying to pinpoint the rogue alarm, what I actually mean is I am trying to ignore the fact that there are smoke detectors all over my kitchen counters and dining room table.

But on the bright side, if we figure out which one it is that was causing all the horrendous racket then we can probably sell it to the Country Club.

Or maybe Barbie might need it for her nudist colony because they all enjoy the occasional dip in the Barbie pool and this Texas weather can be unpredictable.

Much like smoke alarms.
A Labor Day giveaway

Because it is Labor Day and many of us are sitting at home enjoying all the non-laboring (Or maybe you’re trying to catch up on laundry and clean the kitchen. I hear it’s how some people celebrate.) I thought it would be a good day for a giveaway. Click over to my giveaway page for more details.
Edition 64: Fashion Friday

So this weekend is Labor Day weekend and, while I’m looking forward to having a long holiday weekend, I’m a little sad it’s time to put away my white jeans. I feel like we barely got to know each other and now I have to put them away until next spring. My heart breaks a little.

On the other hand, it’s hard to be sad for long when this weekend marks the official start of the college football season. There are few things in life that bring me more joy than a Saturday spent watching a football game while eating some sort of dip. (Sidenote: Go check out the DipTacular going on at Boomama’s.) The only thing better is if it happens to be the Aggies participating in the aforementioned great game, but I’ll take what I can get.

And while we’re on the subject of college football, I was in Banana Republic yesterday (it’s all in the name of exhaustive research for you, internet) and saw this really cute top. The only problem was it came in burnt orange and I just can’t wear burnt orange this time of year because it would be considered sacrilege. It’s bad enough that I have to endure all the Longhorn love in the press (get a room); I certainly don’t need to contribute to it by wearing their colors, even if it is in the form of a kicky little blouse.

However, I felt like I wanted to pass it on to some of my friends who cheer for the school in Austin because I know the pain that comes with trying to find fashionable items in college colors, says the girl who went to Texas A&M and has conducted massive searches for maroon items that aren’t football jerseys.

(By the way, I was going to post a link to the top but it’s not online. I guess it’s just in the store.)

As I was standing there in Banana Republic pondering the dilemma of whether or not I should help the folks in burnt orange and thinking about how hard it is to find clothes in school colors, I received an email from my friend K telling me about a new website called Team Colors Couture. It’s basically a place where you can find fashionable items in your college team’s colors. Right now it’s only Texas schools, but they’ll be adding new schools over time and obviously there are many schools that share the same colors. It pains me that there is an appallingly low selection of maroon merchandise, but that’s an Aggie’s cross to bear. The fashion world is just generally not a fan of maroon or her slightly more attractive half sister, burgundy.

I’d cry discrimination and start a huge campaign to change things but that would take a lot of work.

My point is Gig’em Aggies. I love you and will always cheer for you even if the fashion world and the sports pages neglect you.

Now for a few questions.

1. Karate Mom asks: “Could you please link to the fabulous scarf video that you did last year? My mom got the most beautiful big scarf faux pashmina thingy for me, but I need to know how to wear it!”

Well, yes, I certainly can even though I cannot watch that video without cringing. However, of all the stupid things I’ve ever done in the name of this blog that one gets the most requests, so here’s the link.

And, by the way, the scarf is still totally in for this season. I plan on wearing all of mine if the temperature ever drops below 100 degrees again.

2. Amanda asks: “Can you suggest any ways to wear leggings for those of us who have not used our Shred DVDs yet?”

Are you trying to imply that I haven’t been using my Shred DVD? Because I have. I TOTALLY HAVE. Maybe.

The key to wearing leggings for those of us who are mere mortals and enjoy the occasional bowl of queso or bag of M&M’s is to think about proportions and the use of color. Clearly, most of us will not be wearing them this way. But if you can pull that off then God bless you and may I suggest you go eat some chicken fingers?

Buy a pair of leggings in a darker color because it will give your legs the illusion of slimness and then pair the leggings with a longer cardigan, jacket or top in a pattern or a lighter color. This will allow you to rejoice in the comfort that is the legging while drawing the eye away from your booty region. Just make sure that your top isn’t too big or loose because you don’t want to look sloppy, which can actually make you look bigger.

Here are a few outfits that show how to make the leggings look work in a tasteful way. I realize most of us aren’t going to throw down the coin these particular outfits cost, but I needed something to use as an example and they were all I could find. Just remember these looks and head to TJ Maxx or wherever you like to bargain shop to replicate them.

3. Kristen asks: ” I finally bought some Frye Harness Boots, (YAY!), but now and trying to figure out how to wear them. I’ve got some good jeans that I can put them with, but what else could I do? I’m a mid thirties average sized girl and I’m willing to take [some] fashion risks.”

See above discussion on leggings.

You know I have long been a fan of the harness boots and the good news is that Target is selling the knock off harness boots in both black and brown this year. You can pair them with jeans or try them with leggings for something different and slightly edgier.

And we all know I’m a fan of edgy because I’ve been known to skip breakfast even though it’s the most important meal of the day.

4. Cody asks: “We’re heading off to a wedding in Puerto Rico in December. My husband’s in the wedding and they’re wearing khaki’s, guayaberas, and leather flip flops. I wasn’t sure what to wear, so I asked the groom and he said business casual. The ceremony will be outdoors. But, when I looked up ‘business casual’ it said no flip-flops. I was thinking a maxi dress and flip flops but maybe not? Help! What is ‘business casual?'”

I’m going to share a basic rule of fashion that applies to virtually any situation and will serve you well for the rest of your life. Never ask a man (even if he’s the groom) what the appropriate attire is for an event. They don’t know. Even if they act like they do, they don’t.

They don’t.

Case in point, a wedding ceremony in Puerto Rico where the groom and his groomsmen are wearing khakis, guayaberas and flip-flops is not business casual, unless you’re in the business of making margaritas at the bar or playing the maracas for local tourists. No self-respecting place of legitimate business is going to let grown men show off their feet.

If the wedding were truly business casual then they would be wearing khakis and nice polo shirt with a “Vandalay Industries” logo embroidered tastefully on it. My point is I think the groom meant to say, but didn’t know such a dress category existed, resort casual.

A maxi dress with a thong sandal (the dressier name for a flip-flop) sounds completely appropriate for the occasion. For a little extra flair, you could wear some statement earrings and maybe a fun cocktail ring.

But I don’t really like to talk about my flair. (Can you name that movie?)

That’s it for today.

Y’all have a great Friday. Stay classy.

And Gig ’em Aggies.