I Wish...

Dress: Ruche / Sweater, Bracelet: F21 / Shoes: Endless.com (C. Label) / Belt: Consigned at Periwinkle / Watch: Gift (Fossil) / Tights: We Love Colors / Earrings, Purse: Gabes (Monet)

I wish I could wake up early and feel energized enough to go running. I wish I could come home right after work, flop on the bed with the Husband and Hound, enjoy a quick nap with the breeze floating in, wake up refreshed and ready to make a healthy meal, dine out on the deck, then spend the evening reading, relaxing with the Husband, and crafting { ha, like I know how to craft...but I do have hobbies, you know...or I used to, at least } until time for a candlelit bath and then bed.

But I can't. Because it's cold outside and running, warm breezes, and dining outside don't work too well in the cold. And because since I'm utterly exhausted from school and always stay late, we're more likely to have something frozen or quick to eat anyway. And instead of having fun or relaxing in the evenings, I spend them grading papers and planning lessons. Because I'm a first year teacher for the 3rd time. And I teach 5 different classes, 180 different students, and all levels.

Also, I'm not some pampered elf like Liv Tyler's pre-Aragorn { the Husband made me add that part } character from Lord of the Rings. Why didn't anyone tell me I couldn't be her when I grew up, living in the land of waterfalls and bliss?

P.S. In case any magical genies are out there reading this, I also wish that Hounds didn't shed. Just sayin'.

P.P.S.  Sorry for the gripe-fest. Sometimes I get overwhelmed. But then I wake up to scenes like this, with golden light illuminating the fog-shrouded mountain across the lake, and remember how lucky I really am. 

Don't mind our Hound cover on the sofa, with the pile of pillows underneath so she can prop up and enjoy the view.  

Sometimes I just need to step back and enjoy the view myself. Profite du jour*!

Linked up to G-Rated's Sunday Best again and The Pleated Poppy's What I Wore!

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*Profite du jour = Seize the day 

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Thanks to Ruche for featuring this outfit on Ruche's Style File!

10 Points to the Hound

Sweater: Ross ($7!) / Skirt: YesStyle / Boots: Ugg / Belt: UO / Tights: WalMart / Earrings: Gabes (Monet) / Necklace: Ruche / Bracelets: Christmas Gift (J Crew)

This afternoon, as the Husband and I moved towards the door to go snap these shots, the Hound eagerly followed, thinking she was getting another walk. The Husband, a bit annoyed since she'd just been out, told her to get out of the way and motioned for her to move. She bowed her head, put her tail between her legs, and slank away with a hurt expression.

Then, of course, the Husband felt bad. So he made a cozy nest of her favorite fuzzy blanket, put her in it, and got one of her favorite treats, a dried piece of yam wrapped in chicken jerky.

I've never seen her turn down one of these. Ever. But that's just what she did. She wouldn't take it, so he placed it before her and she didn't even sniff it. Not one tiny whiff. She just stared with the most woefully forlorn look you've ever seen.  

Absolutely heartbreaking. 

He patted and reassured her that she wasn't in trouble, but she still wouldn't take the treat. I told him she must be sick. She hadn't eaten her food that morning, and her tummy had been grumbling. Yes, that was it. She must be terribly ill. So we caressed and coddled her, trying to get her to lie down or try bits of the treat, to no avail.

Then, feeling bad that she was obviously not well and had wanted to go outside, we realized that perhaps she needed to go out again, so he said, "Okay, let's go," and motioned for her to come.

And at that sign of surrender, she picked up the treat, trotted to the door, tail wagging happily, and gulped it down before jumping up to have her leash attached. Booyah, suckers!

What should've been a 2 minute trip outside for us turned into a treat and a walk for her. So there you have example #935 of how Slurpee has cunningly achieved virtual carte blanche* in our home.

Oh my. We're in for some serious trouble when kids enter the picture.

P.S. The Husband calls this my Pancho Villa outfit. Mexican revolutionary references aside, it's not my favorite outfit, but it was quite a cozy church ensemble on such a blustery day.

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*Carte blanche = the license to do whatever she wants (i.e.: have her way)

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Dognapper

Skirt, Top:  Consigned at Periwinkle / Belt, Jewelry: Christmas gifts (J Crew final sale)  / Shoes: Endless.com ( C. Label ) / Tights: Wal-Mart

I may or may not have stolen a dog last week. { Yeah, I did that. } I also put too much salt in my sun-dried tomato salmon Alfredo and forgot that no, I actually don't have a maid named Helga coming to clean my house. I was supposed to do that myself. It was a stellar week for me. The repairman coming by will just have to deal with crumbs around the frigo.

As for the dog, it was happily reunited with its owner. And I really didn't intend to kidnap it. I'd already gone to work once that morning and forgotten some important papers on my desk. As I was rushing home, I saw this lab playing on the railroad tracks that cross my road. Railroad tracks, people. Not far from a busy highway. I got out, looked around, saw no one, beckoned the dog, checked its tags, and called the owner. No answer. I opened the hatch of my car and it bounded right in. So I took it to back to school with me. Quite a sensible thing to do, if you ask me. All of the houses on my road save one are over a mile from the tracks, and I had no time to go knocking on doors.

Thankfully, the ladies in my school's office are dog lovers so they welcomed the stray right in and I got to class just in time.

So, remember how I said all the houses "save one" are far from the tracks on my road? Well, yeah. The dog belonged to that one.  Of course it did. 
 
And thus I went from dog-rescuer to dog-napper, all in the turn of one morning.  Class-tastic. 
 
P.S.  The Husband picked out the locale for these photos on an after-church drive. Suddenly, he pulls over and says, "right here-- this would be good for outfit pictures."  Every time I see those crumbs around the frigo I'm sure I've taught him nothing, but then he goes and does something like that, and suddenly I can't be mad about crumbs anymore, can I? 

P.S. It's Wednesday! That means it's halfway to Friday evening. Hooray!

 

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*frigo = refrigerator

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Dear Weekend: I Love You

 Sweater: H&M / Jeans, Earrings: AE sale / Boots: TJ Maxx / Necklaces: Maurices / Bracelet: DC Street Market / Glasses: BonLook

Oh, how I love the weekends. Oh, how I love a break from school.  This is my life right now.

Two more weeks till the end of the semester. It can't come fast enough. Two more weeks...

In other news, I shamelessly caved to the promotion of all the cool and popular blogs out there and got a pair of hipster glasses. And I kind of love them. The timing was perfect because the Husband just gave me a new prescription, and Bonlook is having a sale for $10 off your first pair. They also have a really nifty virtual try-on feature that makes it easy to select a pair, and they have free shipping.

I first got glasses in the 2nd grade. A horrid pair of thin purple plastic that covered the entire top two-thirds of my head...Like all the other myopes out there, I recall the amazement that I could see, from the ground, the individual leaves of trees. Even the ones that were far away! That day, I rode home seeing a whole new world of wonder from the back of my dad's pick-up. It was the early 90s...My joy was promptly over the second we got home and my brother made fun of my new 4-eyed look. He had issues being the only boy with 4 sisters.
 
At that point, my sight wasn't too terrible, so I could get away without wearing them if I sat in the front of the classroom to see the board.  In other words, I sacrificed the privilege to see leaves for the sake of style and went without. These days, I can't even see that the that the board is there. Here's looking at you, -6.25. Actually, I can't see you without you.

For a long time I was quite bitter about my need for myopic correction. Both of my parents, in their 50s now, still see at 20/15. "C'est pas juste!" I whined { In my memories, I whined in French. Makes it seem more pithy. }  And I vividly remember my doctors telling me that eventually my eyes would stop getting worse as I matured and reached adulthood. Whelp, guess I missed that mark...But now that glasses are popular, I suppose I really oughtn't complain anymore, and be glad that I'm not forced to suffer the indecision of whether to pay for spectacles I don't need in the name of accessorizing.

And today, ladies and gents, after boring you with this ridiculous diatribe about my eyes, I'll conclude by admitting that these days I'm grateful for my abnormally long eyeballs. Their habit of continual elongation provides me many an opportunity to keep up with the world of fashionable eye-wear.

Also, it's fun to look at Christmas trees without them. What? You don't keep yours up till Valentine's?

P.S. Linked up to The Pleated Poppy's WIWW!

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*C'est pas juste = Ce n'est pas juste = It's not fair!

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A True Story About the Husband and the Hound

   Cashmere Sweater, Skirt: Consigned at Periwinkle (Vintage Saks made in Scotland, Old Navy) / Bracelets:  F21 & Christmas gift (J Crew) / Leather Bracelet & Earrings:  DC Holiday Street Market / Crystal Necklace: Grandmother's

Once upon a time there was a lonesome non-Husband working his way through long hours of medical school in Missouri. One day, he saw an ad for beagle puppies and thought, "Hey, that would be fun!" Upon meeting the seller, he found a mess of tri-colored pups in the back of a pick-up. He paid the man $50, plucked out the wiggliest, squiggliest, smallest Hound-pup of the bunch, and put her in his car.

She whined and whimpered on the ride home till the non-Husband put her in his lap. Then the Hound-pup was very contented. They lived happily the next couple of years, learning to howl at rabbits and having adventures and such, providing one another quite good company.

Then one day the non-Husband had to go away for his internship and residency and couldn't take the Hound-pup, who was practically all Hound by this time. So she moved to Nevada with the non-Husband's brother, and then to Utah with the non-Husband's parents after the howling didn't work out too swell with the Vegas neighbors.

Meanwhile, the non-Husband completed his intern year in Arizona, and then went off to West Virginia for his residency. This is where he semi-met Girl by asking her to play football at a picnic. Girl declined, by the way, so he arranged to pick her up for a trip with mutual friends to jump off of a waterfall the next day. This was a surprise for Girl.  Pretty soon, the non-Husband was showing up at Girl's apartment and asking her to go for ice-cream. Where he told her stories about his Hound, kept her out to the wee hours on a playground, and tried to teach her to drive a stick at the end of the night. Girl is pretty sure that last part was because he didn't want the night to be over. She didn't either.

The weekend of Girl's birthday, the non-Husband flew to Utah for his sister's wedding. He'd invited Girl to go with him. He'd even offered to pay halfsies. But that Sunday was Girl's birthday and she was expecting family. And she'd only just begun to date the non-Husband, after-all, and didn't want to appear presumptuous.

The non-husband returned on Girl's birthday, bringing the Hound with him. They arrived in time to both be big hits with Girl's family. Pretty soon, the Hound was whining at the door for Girl after she left from visiting the non-Husband at his place. Then the Hound began staying the nights with Girl, whose job allowed her to walk the Hound throughout the day. It wasn't long before the Hound moved in with Girl, and not long after that the non-Husband became the Husband, and he moved in too.

And that, friends, is a true story of how the Husband became the Husband, the Hound got a mama, and the Girl found herself with a Husband and a Hound fighting for snuggle space in her bed.

  Clockwise from top left:  non-Husband and Hound-pup, Girl jumps off waterfall and is photographed by non-Husband on that fateful day, non-Husband becomes Girl's Husband, Hound takes over Girl's bed

And you thought this post was going to be about my outfit...

P.S. It's black and white day at Everybody, Everywear! C'est très chic, le noir et blanc, n'est-ce pas?*

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C'est très chic, le noir et blanc, n'est-ce pas? = Black and white is very chic, is it not?

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Mme Consignor

 Skirt, Sweater, Coat:  Consigned at Periwinkle (Chelsea and Theodore, Pink Rose, Banana Republic) / Shoes: Gabes (Very Volatile) / Tights: We Love Colors / Bracelets:  F21,Christmas gift (J Crew final sale) / Watch:  Christmas gift (Fossil)

So, have I mentioned I started consigning? I'm practically a businesswoman now. Except that I'm a full time teacher instead. But never mind that. You can just call me Madame Consignor, Extraordinaire {optional, of course.} Boy, is it fun. Old clothes out, new clothes in. It's like shopping for free. Free. Doesn't get much better than that.

Although, apparently it does. Though I have gotten lucky at my local shop with a few unique finds like this silk dress and this silk top  and Scottish skirt, I never find the thrift-store designer gems that Jentine finds, like Donna Karan skirts, Diane von Furtsenbug, Victor Costa, and Marchesa dresses, sparkling wool sheaths and handbags, and so many vintage blazers your eyes will roll.

The biggest brand thrill I ever get is from J. Crew.  If I ever do see anything designer, which has only happened for me at Annie Cream Cheese in D.C., it's way expensive. Très cher* is not my cup of tea. Perhaps my problem is shopping mostly in consignment { That's where my credit is...}  Perhaps it's because I live in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps it's because when I do get to thrift in a more affluent area, I'm only visiting and luck requires repetition and persistence.

Whatever the cause, meanwhile I'll be happy with the opportunity to turn old clothes into new ones that are more practical for teaching and church anyways...

P.S.  While taking these photos, the Husband kept telling me that my sweater was partially tucked into my skirt. I kept telling him to never-mind that, thank you very much. Then he began to focus on the wrinkles created by the half-tuck, trying to convince me that there was, in fact, a problem. Um, no dear. Actually, I'm going for that effortless, I'm too chic and breezy to care, J. Crew half-tuck look. But thanks for pointing out my awkwardness.  

P.P.S. Speaking of being practical for church, this is what I wore to church yesterday, so I'm linking up to a new party!

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*Tres cher = Very expensive { I bet you knew that...}

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This post was featured on G-Rated's Sunday Best! Thanks, Chelz!

Bonne Année, 2012!

Dress: Old Navy ($9!) / Skirt (worn as peek-a-boo slip): ModCloth / Shoes: Ross / Sweater, Belt, Earrings, Clutch: Gabes / Watch: Christmas gift (Fossil) / Bracelets: Christmas gifts (J Crew final sale), F21 / Necklace: Thrifted

Happy New Year! I decided to herald in the New Year in something bright, in hopes of having a brighter year. Finding a bright dress for $9 (amazing deals going on at Old Navy right now!) is certainly a good way to start off a bright year, no?

I've never been super at keeping resolutions, but hey, it's a new year, so let's have a go, shall we?

1. Learn to use camera and Photoshop. Apply to enhance blog with crisper photos of the Hound.

2. Use that treadmill we got for Black Friday. Then run a half-marathon.
3. Work on more meaningful prayers. Perhaps more yoga/meditation will help?
4. Organize and clean out. Everything. Begin with Box Room. Yep, it's a room full of boxes.
5. Get a bun, or two, but please not three, in the oven. Come on, 2012.

That oughtta do it!

P.S. Linked up to the Pleated Poppy's What I Wore Party!

P.P.S. Scott gave up Diet Coke this year. Diet. Coke. I hear it's ever so addictive, so let's all cheer him on. I've been waiting for this victory since we met :) In fact, I've a rather funny story about one attempt in particular, involving this pair of Burberry Boots.  I'll have to get a post up on that story soon...

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Bonne Année = Happy New Year!

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