wordless wednesday – where do you go when there’s an 85 degree day in april?

dear shoes

I know it’s asking a lot, but don’t you think that you could cut me some slack?

I mean, I’m a pretty loyal, faithful fan of yours. I buy you even when I know you’ll hurt me and wear you all day long. I rarely discriminate. I’m a lover of most styles, brands, and colors. I wear you appropriately during the seasons, following all fashion rules that I’m aware of.

I’d say I go above and beyond, wouldn’t you?

So then could you please, please, pretty please, every now and then, not make yourself attractive to me exclusively when you are ridiculously over-priced?

Thank you.

Love,

Fancythis

fancythis tours the midatlantic region

Ahhh, home sweet home.

The husband and I have been house-sitting for the last 2 weeks or so for a few different friends.

It’s exhausting work.

1. Because you never really know what you’re getting yourself into.

I mean, what if the basement floods or there’s a gas leak? What if the dog dies and you have to explain to the homeowner that Fido died on your watch?

2. Because you are forced to pack your life into bags and carry it around with you.

I shouldn’t have to explain why this is such a pain.

3. Because not everyone has a king-size bed ready and available for you to sleep on.

I’ll be honest, king is the way to go if you’re a large person. Husband is tall, I’m tall. A king-size bed just makes sense. We had one king-size bed to sleep in over these last two weeks. We also slept on a queen, and worse than that, a double. We didn’t sleep much on those nights.

Tonight we are back home in our ginormous bed and I’m wondering how it’s possible to have come home with more than we brought with us.

I suppose it will remain a mystery.

growing up and getting out

You came into this world on November 29, 1986. I don’t remember this day or even the days and months following this event. (I was, after all, barely 2 years old) But this date is one of the most significant in my life because it was the date of your birth, my first sibling, my little brother Zach.

You were my guinea pig sibling, the one I made all of my “big sister” mistakes on, but God used you to mold me into the big sister I became for the youngest three.

You had the ability to make me very, very angry, or very, very happy. There was never an in-between with you, I was either annoyed by you or pleased by you. More often than not, I was pleased with your company.

You were my first best friend, and no other man shared that title with you until I got married. I remember days of kickball in the street (because where else would we play?) and power rangers in the front yard. My summers were filled with watching you play t-ball and eventually baseball, and then in high school, golf. I still remember the feeling of pride I had watching you play. You were humble in spite of your undeniable talent, and I remember wishing that I had that quality. Humility, I mean.

It was just you and I before mom decided she wanted three kids instead of just two, and then we ended up with the twins and eventually, the baby. Watching you “big brother” the younger kids has been incredible. You are far more patient and understanding than I, and I’ve found that I’ve learned more from you than you have from me in this respect.

My most fond memories of you have Christmas in them. Not because this is my favorite holiday (although it is) but because you were my “Santa buddy”. You and I would go into the living room after Santa came to look at all of the presents and to wait for that sacred hour of 6:30 am when Dad and Mom would finally let us wake them up. We would sit and guess what we had gotten and share those precious magical moments together by the tree just dreaming of the hour when we could play with our toys.

I have watched in awe your relationships with people aside from your family. You have been a faithful and loyal friend to every one you’ve had in spite of their “social status”. You still have many of the same friends you had from your youth and I find that to be an admirable quality. I know they would say the same of you.

With the exception of one girl (who I’m not so thrilled with after the fact) I never liked anyone you dated. I’m pretty sure that there were legitimate reasons why, but mostly, I don’t like the idea of a woman in your life besides your family. I know that one day I’ll have to accept whoever you do bring home, but it will be really hard for me because in my eyes, there is no one good enough. I’m sure this is a pain to you.

Now that we’re older and I’m married, our relationship has changed. I’m now closest to Andrea, and you have great relationships with Jake and Ben. But there’s still a special spark I feel for you, my little brother, my first sibling. You warm my heart when I’m near you and your thoughtfulness still catches me by surprise.

Last Valentines Day, Luke was deployed and I was feeling particularly sorry for myself. You took me out to dinner. Just the two of us. It may not have been that big of a deal to you, but it touched me incredibly. It made my entire month. I will never forget that moment, or how it made me feel for the rest of my life.

You are now about to embark upon a different journey. Something that will take you away from your home and will change you beyond measure. You will never be the same. We will never be the same. I will never be the same.

In the hours before you leave us, I am realizing just how much I have taken you for granted. The fact that you’re just a bedroom away. The fact that if I want to, I can go shopping, out to dinner, to the movies, or anywhere with you at the drop of a hat. I’m angry with myself for not doing it more often. Why do we always wait until the moment before we can’t do it to wish that we had?

I know that you’ll just be a plane-ride away, I know that we can email and write letters. But for now, I want nothing more than to be by that Christmas tree with you, staring at the presents, and counting down the hours until 6:30 am.

overheard in the office

Son: “Mommy, are beans good for you?”

Mommy: “Sure they are.”

Son: “Then can I have some jelly beans?”

irony and bloody noses

Remember the dress I wanted for Easter?

Well, the husband finally caved. Not before I scoured the internet for 2-ish weeks and the price dropped $32. But, he caved, and I really can’t ask for more.

So last night I set out to buy this dress. I didn’t just want to purchase it online without trying it on first to see how it fit. We know what happens when I do that.

I went into my local Banana Republic all geared up to try this dress on when……

I searched the store for a few minutes and couldn’t find it. Not one to be afraid of pestering the employees, I went up to the nearest girl and asked her where the pretty blue silk dress was.

“Hmmmm, can you describe it a little more?” she asked.

“Um, yeah. It’s pretty and blue…and silk. And it ties at the waist.”

“I don’t recall ever getting that in. Yeah, in fact I’m sure that we didn’t” she replied.

I was left to search the store if I chose to, but that’s the best she could give me. I was really bummed to say the least, but I decided that I didn’t really have many options left, and looked around the store for something else.

I found this sweater (in powder blue, which I guess they’re not showing) and this skirt. Score!

I made my way back to the dressing room (with my sister, who I usually bring with me, because she’s an honest critiquer) to try them on. I was just about to put the skirt on when my nose started bleeding! I immediately threw the skirt as far from myself as I could and sent my little sister off to find me some tissues, or something, anything. At that moment, my nose decided that a water-fall of blood seemed like a better idea than a leaky faucet. I was left with no choice but to use my own tank top as a stopper. Fortunately I was wearing a black (I have never before been so glad that my color-choices in clothing are drab and predictable) turtle neck over the tank top, so I made it through the rest of the evening without anyone else seeing the blood.

I should have taken that as a sign to leave the store or something, but I didn’t and tried the sweater and skirt on. I fell in love with it and then looked at the price tags. SO EXPENSIVE. And back on their respective racks they went. (Authors note: this is how you can be certain that my husband has infected my brain.)

We left and went to every store in the mall and could find nothing, NOTHING, that I liked.

Plan B: get the pretty sweater and wear it with a skirt you already own.

So, that’s what I did. And I got these shoes to go with it.

Thank God I only have to do this once a year. I’d go crazy otherwise.

the tacky follows me wherever i go

I have a neighbor who has pink shutters.

Not the fuschia pink, or red-pink, or even hot pink. My neighbor’s shutters are bubble-gum pink.

They didn’t even come with the house – so they don’t have that excuse to fall back on. No – this man chose the color and hung them himself. Bubble-gum pink. It’s not like they were a horrible color beforehand. (more horrible for a house than bubble-gum pink is something I’m having a hard time fathoming) They were black. Which didn’t look half bad because he’s got white siding and brick. No, not bad at all. But he wanted (?) bubble-gum pink.

I won’t lie to you; they stress me out a little bit – these ill-colored shutters.

But I didn’t intend for this post to be about the shutters. I just thought that I would use them as an example of this neighbor’s poor choice-making.

Two-ish weeks ago this neighbor discovered that there was an issue with his sewer pipe.

Now, to me, sewer=poop=someone else’s job. The world needs ditch-diggers too, ya know?

Instead pink-shutters-man decides that he wants to solve the problem of the sewer pipe by himself. So, he starts digging. And digging. And digging. A week goes by and all he’s got to show for his digging are mounds of dirt in his yard. No pipe. Because, according to my dad, your sewer pipe is usually about 2 feet below your basement, and that’s only if you start right at your house. It sometimes goes even deeper the further away you get from your house.

He started at the sidewalk, furthest from the house.

Another three days, and the loss of his pretty Dogwood later, (he had to dig that up for some reason too) and he decided that it was time to hire a professional.

These professionals seem to be making a bigger mess than he did, as all of the dirt is making its way into the street now. They’re out there early in the morning and well into the evening looking for this thing – it’s all I can do to get some sleep with the constant whir of the tractor.

I’m not sure why I’m telling you this…I think I just needed to vent about the man with the pink shutters. This is sort of like his last straw, and I’m not sure what I’ll do.

fun stuff friday – fruity lips

Ladies, I spent a lot of time looking for the perfect lip gloss.

There’s just something about lip gloss. It’s appropriate for all occasions. You can wear it to work, you can wear it to the mall, you can wear it on a night out on the town. It’s just so versatile.

I’ve been through it all, and I’ve finally found it.

It’s beauty rush by Victoria’s Secret. I like it in the Candy Baby color for casual occasions and the Cherry Bomb color for more fancy nights out.

The color/gloss lasts for a really long time and it helps keep my lips moist as well. (although, I really prefer Natural Ice chapstick to do the moisturizing job. I just wear it underneath of the gloss) Plus, it smells and tastes good. You know, if you’re hungry or something.

So give it a try. You’ll love it!

book worm

Internets, I joined a book club.

I’ve always wanted to because I like to read, and I like to discuss what I’ve read. So I figured a book club would be a pretty good idea.

I think I had some pre-conceived notions of what it would be, but already I’ve been proven wrong, and I haven’t even been to one of the meetings yet.

I think I was just expecting all women to enjoy the same types of books that I enjoy. Like Nicholas Sparks, or Jody Piccoult (I’ve never actually read anything of hers, but they’re pretty similar in style), Nora Roberts. Like chick-flicks on paper. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll venture out every now and then and read something by James Patterson or Joyce Carol Oates, or what I’m reading right now. (which is taking me a century to read for some reason) But I like easy-reads. I like being able to fly through a book in an afternoon.

But this month’s book threw me for a loop.

That’s no chick-flick on paper yo. That’s a serious book. And I’m reading a sort of serious book right now. I never do that. Read two serious books in a row, I mean. Well, except for James Patterson, because his books just flow and you can’t put them down. But on the whole, I don’t do two serious books in a row.

So, we’ll see how I do with this thing. I’m looking forward to broadening my literary horizons.