Month: January 2008

The winter of my follicular discontent

My mind is a vast wasteland at the moment. I’m just going to blame it on the new season of “American Idol” because why not? Everyone knows reality t.v. is a symbol of all that is wrong with America and is numbing our minds until there is nothing left. But if loving it is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

Plus, “American Idol” is different because it is a very scientific process of finding the next person in America who may or may not make a CD that anyone will want to buy.

In other scientific news (because it’s all about the science here), several people emailed me the link to this article yesterday. Apparently, on some subconscious level I knew what I was talking about, the black plague is actually making a comeback (unlike Taylor Hicks) which just goes to show those people at the Medical Clinic had no idea what they were talking about. I sensed in my heart that Black Plague was a possibility.

But, can we take a minute to talk about something that is weighing on my mind?

Now, I realize this haircut would be a colossal mistake for me for several reasons. Number one, the bangs are no longer my friend. I discovered post-pregnancy hormones did horrible, unspeakable things to my bang potential when I tried to imitate Reese Witherspoon’s hair last year. And number two, I do not have the stunning bone structure of Katie Holmes so there is a good possibility this haircut could cause me to look like a mushroom cap. And resembling fungi is so out this year.

Truth be told, this is just something I do every six months or so. I cut out pictures from magazines, I scour the internet, I stop strangers on the street and ask who cuts their hair.

And then I go to my hairdresser and get my split ends trimmed.

Because I am daring and adventurous.

But maybe this time will be different. Maybe I’ll walk in and tell her to cut off 8-12 inches. I’ll throw coiffure caution to the wind.

Or probably not.

But if I were brave enough, I might try this.

Or this.

Or this.

Yes, I realize this is basically three versions of the same haircut, but humor me please.

And, of course I’ve already tried this and it failed. Yet it calls to me in it’s sleekness and sophistication.

What about y’all? Is there a new haircut you’re dying to try? Are you a hair adventurer or do you get stuck in a rut?

And what about gray hair? I mean, HYPOTHETICALLY, if a person is starting to see more and more gray pop up, how should they handle that?
Straight from the retro chic bag lady collection

First, let me thank y’all for staying civil in the comments yesterday. While I realized the Veggie Tales are very near and dear to many of your produce-loving hearts, I didn’t realize the intensity of the devotion. In all fairness, I have never heard the hairbrush song, so I could be missing out on musical greatness for all I know.

And I won’t get into my thoughts on why would a cucumber need a hairbrush in the first place. That’s a whole can of asparagus that I don’t care to open.

Thank you. I’ll be here all week.

Plus, we have reached crisis level at the house of Big Mama. This whole wardrobe issue is OUT OF CONTROL.

And I’m not just talking about P and his closet full of camo and Columbia fishing shirts.

Yesterday morning, Caroline had school and most school days I can manage to get her dressed in an appropriate outfit while she’s mesmerized by “Wow Wow Wubbzy!” without her realizing that her clothes actually match. Oh sure, she’ll add in a headband or three and perhaps clip her hair back with eight different clips, but at least she’s dressed for the right weather and only has on one pair of underwear as opposed to two pairs with some bloomers for good measure.

However, all that has changed. She now insists on going into her closet and picking out her own outfit. I already mentioned this led to her “WORST DAY EVER” on Saturday and then yesterday morning we reached full crisis mode.

She wanted to wear one of her zebra dresses (and yes, it’s a testament to my stellar fashion guidance that she owns more than one zebra print dress) so she disappeared into what I am now referring to as the closet of doom for about fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes, by the way, that we don’t have to spare on a school morning, because if her class leaves for chapel before she gets there then I have to wait another hour before I can drop her off.

Tragic consequences.

I finally entered into the sacred closet to see what was holding up the process. I found her sitting on the floor of her closet wearing a long-sleeved zebra print dress while trying to pull another long-sleeve navy striped dress over the zebra dress. I am all for layering, but no way was that going to work. She’d look like an overstuffed oompa loompa waddling on the playground.

I told her she couldn’t wear two dresses at once, which led to the phrase that is quickly becoming a tagline at our house, “THIS IS THE WORST DAY EVER!” And what I wanted to say is “Sister, you don’t know worst day until you wear two dresses at once and the temperature gets up to 70 degrees this afternoon.”

Instead, I told her she could wear the zebra dress with leggings, tights or her jeans. She chose her jeans. With the zebra dress. With light-up tennis shoes. And a long, hot pink sweater coat.

She looked much like a four year old bag lady.

And as I passed the mamas walking with their darling two year old girls who were wearing precious smocked dresses with darling socks and maryjanes, I wanted to say “Don’t judge me, because your day? It is coming.”

Then, when she got home from school she changed into what she believed to be the best possible outfit for a little afternoon tree climbing in the backyard.

She is one side ponytail and a bottle of bleach away from looking just like Chrissy Snow.

Well, if Chrissy Snow wore socks pulled up to her knees with black patent shoes.

The girl has her own unique style. Which is going to require me to put the summer clothes up on a very high shelf.
Of course, maybe the truth is she doesn’t like Veggie Tales either

P left town on Thursday to go guide some hunts for a friend. Technically, yes, this was work since he was getting paid, but it’s essentially the equivalent of someone telling me they’ll pay me to go shop at Anthropologie.

And if any of y’all know how I can get that job, then hook me up.

So, anyway, it was just Caroline and me this weekend. I could tell by how hard she cried when P left that she had totally bought into my promise that we were going to have an AWESOME girls’ weekend, just the two of us. She just knows that time spent with me isn’t going to involve any dead animals (God-willing) and WOW, who can blame her for thinking I’m a big pile of NO FUN?

We got our girls’ weekend off to a roaring start by going to eat Mexican food with Mimi and Bops on Friday night. Caroline wanted to sit outside but it was too cold. Of course she doesn’t care about shallow things like temperature, so she spent the first half of dinner pouting into her chips and guacamole. Finally, I’d had enough and we headed to the ladies restroom to have a little discussion about the consequences of anymore pouting, which may or may not have included serious threats like leaving without eating our cheese enchiladas. I don’t play around.

Saturday morning she woke up bright and ready to conquer the world. I, on the other hand, had no idea what we were going to do with the twelve hours that stretched before us. But, after 853 times of her asking, “What are we going to do today? Where are we going? What’s our plan for today?”, I realized I better come up with a strategy, because, apparently her plan was to keep asking until my brain leaked out of my ears.

We called and invited her friend Emily to go see the new Veggie Tales movie with us. Emily was thrilled, her mama was even more thrilled, and Caroline was the most thrilled of all. We packed my purse full of Sour Patch Kids and went to pick up Emily.

And here’s why I like Emily, she brought her Barbie purse packed with her own supply of Sour Patch Kids. Her parents are raising her right and it warms my heart to know Caroline has befriended a little girl whose family has values so similar to our own.

The girls seemed to like the movie. I’m just going to go out on a limb and risk total ostracism by the parenting community and confess that I don’t really like Veggie Tales. I think all that produce hopping about and wielding swords when everyone knows cucumbers and asparagus don’t have hands is just unnatural. All that fighting and rescuing is going on and all I can think is who cares about a green pea in a pirate’s hat? And why is there a blueberry? Aren’t blueberries a fruit?

I realize the Veggie Tales are worth some kind of Christian mega-fortune and obviously I don’t know a clever marketing scheme to save my life. I’m just being honest. I don’t want to talk to tomatoes. I think they’re a marginally decent vegetable at best.

Anyway, we came home from the movie and the girls played in the backyard. I’m not sure what they were playing but it involved carrying all the firewood off the back porch and loading into a wagon. There was also some sort of elaborate trap using a Little Tikes lawnmower and the dog leash.

Caroline and I had plans to go to dinner again with Mimi and Bops. I got us all cleaned up and then she ran in her room to pick out her own outfit. It took her the better part of thirty minutes to get dressed and then she finally came out wearing a sundress with spaghetti straps over a pair of capri pants. It was 50 degrees outside.

I told her she absolutely couldn’t wear that, it was too cold and those were summer clothes. She threw herself on her bed and I am not kidding, said, “THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY WHOLE LIFE!”

Which immediately made me feel so good. Because if we’ve managed to make it four and a half years only to have the worst day of her life be a day that involved getting to go to a movie, eat massive amounts of candy and popcorn, and have a friend over to play, then I am doing a fabulous job with this whole motherhood thing.

In spite of the fact that I don’t like the Veggie Tales.
For my Sunday viewing

I can’t really express how disappointed I am about The Golden Globes being done in some sort of press conference format. I mean, does anyone really care to see who wins if there is no celebrity fashion to mock and/or admire?

Yeah, me neither.

So, I’ll be on my couch watching “Comanche Moon”. And while I hold no illusions that anyone else could ever portray Gus like Robert Duvall, it should at least be more fun to watch than some low rent version of The Golden Globes.
Edition 12: Fashion Friday

Welcome back, Fashion Friday. At least five of us have missed you oh so much.

Earlier in the week when I mentioned all of my various hallucinations, I didn’t mention the one that caused chills to run down my spine. It was too frightening, too horrific. I’m not in the business of writing horror stories, people.

Apparently, I’m in the business of writing nonsensical things about my life.

But, in the interest of sharing and because it is relevant to Fashion Friday, I will share with the group.

In the midst of my fever breaking and being all cracked out on the Tussionex cough syrup, I dreamed (hallucinated? imagined?) that I pulled my very favorite pair of Seven jeans out of the dryer only to discover that they had become faded beyond repair, tapered at the bottom and, worst of all, high-waisted.

In fact, in my vision they appeared very much like the jeans that I am depicted wearing here at church camp the summer before my junior year in high school.

Make no mistake, the fifteen year old me worked very hard with a mixture of Clorox and razor blades to achieve that particular look back in 1987. Because I believed with all my adolescent heart that those jeans made me a little edgy and mysterious in spite of the fact that I wore large bows in my hair on a regular basis.

However, it would be a travesty to have this damage done to my favorite pair of Seven jeans. In 2008.

So, y’all can imagine my relief when I went to my closet the next morning and found my jeans hanging exactly where they should be in their present dark rinse, non-tapered leg, low-rise state. I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to weep with relief.

And, really, none of this relates to Fashion Friday whatsoever. Except for this nugget of truth, Cloroxed Guess jeans aren’t really a timeless classic.

Now, let’s get to the questions.

1. Jen P asks: “Am I missing the boat on jewelry? Because I am all about the COMPLETE LOOK. I want to make sure I am complete, all framed out, no loose ends, sort of thing.”

I related to Jen’s email because she mentioned that she usually sticks with the safe diamond stud earrings and not much else in the way of accessories. This is something I have really wanted to work on in my own fashion world. Unless I’m going somewhere like a party, I tend to stick with earrings and my wedding ring. Which is fine. Boring, but fine.

I just know that when I see someone with great accessories, it makes the outfit. It can be a plain black sweater and jeans, but the right earrings or necklace takes it from ordinary to extraordinary. I think the key is to remember a little goes a long way. Make sure you don’t have too much going on, but ladies, we are seriously missing out if we don’t take advantage of jewelry that looks like this.

Or this.

Or this.

Or this.

Bottom line, jewelry is your friend. Let’s all encourage each other as we work to accessorize more completely in 2008.

2. Lisa asks: “What is the deal with outerwear? More specifically, must it match your outfit?”

Great question. I personally do not think outerwear has to match your outfit. I recommend having one good long coat in a neutral color that you can wear with everything. Then, you can buy various scarves, hats, etc. to change the look around.

I’d look for a winter coat in a classic style, like this one, and best of all, you can probably find one on sale this time of year.

However, I am a big fan of jackets and coats, so while I have a long, camel colored coat that I wear alot, I also have various courdoroy blazers, velvet peacoats, and sweater coats that I wear with various outfits. I think the key to how well these have to coordinate with your outfit is based on whether or not they are truly just outerwear that you plan on shedding once indoors or if you plan to leave them on as part of your overall outfit.

Here are a few great jackets and coats.

I love this peacoat.

Look at this cute jacket from Anthropologie. It could be dressed up or down.

Here’s a twill peacoat from Old Navy.

And, of course, I have always been a loyal fan of the denim jacket. For me, it’s a wardrobe staple.

3. Hunter Dave asks: “It being deer season here in South Texas, I need some advice. I haven’t been camo shopping in almost two years, and so I’m worried I’ll look like an out-of-style reject in the deer blind. But with a baby on the way, I can’t splurge at Cabela’s like I want to. Does camo ever really go out of style? If so, how can I put together a fashionable ensemble without busting my wallet?”

Oh, Hunter Dave, just the fact that you’re asking about camo styles warms my heart. And really, take heart in knowing that most hunters do look like out-of-style rejects. It’s just their way.

According to P’s hunting closet, I can safely say that, apparently, camo never goes out of style. Even though we have several examples of why it should. The best advice I can give you is to forget Cabela’s and their high prices and just go to Walmart like the rest of the rednecks. Just look at what I found on their website.

At $79.98, that is a steal. And it gives whole new meaning to the term “out-of-style reject”.

Or come raid our closet while P’s not home. There’s so much camo in there, he’d never know the difference.

Let’s just say he has camo that’s older than the Cloroxed jeans I’m wearing in the picture above.

And that, my friends, is old.

Happy Friday!
The camera loves her

This is Caroline’s new preferred method of transport from one end of the house to the other.

I figure it’s just a matter of time before she’s hitting the mean streets as part of some vicious scooter gang.

But, for now, she’s content with me taking pictures of her while she rides. Right after I took the first picture, she turned back around, looked at me and said, “Get me from this angle”.

After I obliged, she said, “Now get one of me coming right towards you.”

It’s like living with Giselle Bundchen.

If Giselle had a Disney Princess scooter.