Showing posts with label sartorial spirit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sartorial spirit. Show all posts
Friday, November 12
Thursday, November 11
If tired did not start with T
It would start with some other letter. It would be a different word, but there would still be the need for the meaning of the word, even if that very word did not exist. Tired.
It is November tenth. Three of my surrounding neighbors have their homes decked in Christmas lights. Oh suburbia, how I love you, how I hate you, all at the same time. We dropped the ball by only having three baby pumpkins in our yard, I know. We will try our best to live up to your expectations for the winter season. Would a Nativity lawn scene suffice? If we just outline the front of our house with lights, and save the high scary roof pitches, we hope you will not mind.
Tonight when I walked my baby down the street and to the park nearby, she ran immediately to the tire swing. She would hardly do play with any other big toy tonight. When she tired of sitting on it she said, "underneath" and went through the middle and out from below. Underneath.
What's the word on the street? No, not underneath, tired.
I am sitting in the guest room while Matt gets Lucia ready for bed. I take off and hide while he performs bath duty, book duty and has a possible showing of Elmo. If I put her down, she throws a fit and cries "mama, mama, mama!" If he puts her down, she quietly drifts off to sleep. She has my number; so she knows I am a sucker.
But what she has yet to learn about her mama...obsessed with clothes, Sweden, Czech, France, Grammar Girl and all things old and gold.
It is November tenth. Three of my surrounding neighbors have their homes decked in Christmas lights. Oh suburbia, how I love you, how I hate you, all at the same time. We dropped the ball by only having three baby pumpkins in our yard, I know. We will try our best to live up to your expectations for the winter season. Would a Nativity lawn scene suffice? If we just outline the front of our house with lights, and save the high scary roof pitches, we hope you will not mind.
Tonight when I walked my baby down the street and to the park nearby, she ran immediately to the tire swing. She would hardly do play with any other big toy tonight. When she tired of sitting on it she said, "underneath" and went through the middle and out from below. Underneath.
What's the word on the street? No, not underneath, tired.
I am sitting in the guest room while Matt gets Lucia ready for bed. I take off and hide while he performs bath duty, book duty and has a possible showing of Elmo. If I put her down, she throws a fit and cries "mama, mama, mama!" If he puts her down, she quietly drifts off to sleep. She has my number; so she knows I am a sucker.
But what she has yet to learn about her mama...obsessed with clothes, Sweden, Czech, France, Grammar Girl and all things old and gold.
Happy almost Friday to you.
And me.
Monday, November 8
Somewhere in-between...
...a good day and a bad day.
Monday has too much power over me.
Could it be that I had too much sleep because of the time change?
Could it be that those students were freaking energized and loud?
Could it be that my tights were too much?
My mom did call at seven am just to say I looked pretty yesterday.
My husband did send me a love-text during first period.
My cheer girls did give me an edible bouquet.
Somewhere in-between a good day and a bad.
More good than bad.
Just a Monday, after all.
Love, me and my tights
Monday has too much power over me.
Could it be that I had too much sleep because of the time change?
Could it be that those students were freaking energized and loud?
Could it be that my tights were too much?
My mom did call at seven am just to say I looked pretty yesterday.
My husband did send me a love-text during first period.
My cheer girls did give me an edible bouquet.
Somewhere in-between a good day and a bad.
More good than bad.
Just a Monday, after all.
Love, me and my tights
Sunday, November 7
Friday, November 5
Fall Fashion Take One
Scarf: Thrifted and colorful.
Gray top: GAP from my mom.
Cardigan: Charlotte Russe - love her sale rack.
Skinny Cargos: Old Navy, not a fan of the fit.
Gray Socks, apparently my new must with wedges: Old Navy.
Red Dancing Shoes: Thrifted.
Braids: Consequence of Wet Hair at 7.30am.
Quote of the Day:
"How is it possible that you completely don't match,
but still look totally fly?"
Asked a lovely student.
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