Summer Clashion

     I best just get the lecture out of the way. Summer is right around the corner. To some that means picnics, baseball, heatstroke... to me it means fashion train wrecks with no escape.
   16-22 year old girls are by FAR most guilty. Let's face it; they use the first sign of heat as an excuse to dress like trash. Spaghetti straps and short-shorts do not, an ensemble, make. I just know it-- they've been bundled in their Snuggie all winter-- hemming that pair of glorified denim undies shorter and shorter, just waiting for the first 66º day. Girl, puh-lease. Build a bridge and get over yo-self.
  I do have a few suggestions up my quarter-length sleeve to keep it classy when the day sizzles and the nights steam. (Pictorials borrowed from J.Crew).

  First and MOST importantly-- footwear. (I really want you to know that there's nothing I hate more than feet. They are the ugliest and most disgusting part of the human body; I can hardly bear to speak of them, so I get extra credit for this one. Hopefully in the end, this paragraph is an investment in humanity.) MEN: you look weird in open-toed shoes. Save them for the beach. End of discussion. Ladies: No one wants to see your feet either-- however, keeping you away from sandals is like trying to stop a downhill stampede. If you INSIST on wearing flip-flops, invest in a well-made feminine pair. Please don't do the $2 thing at Old Navy. Cheap flip-flops look-- cheap. Before you can blink, they look worn and dirty, and so do your feet. Yuuuck. Buy flip-flops that have a sheen to them, like a metallic.
 No foam, no rubber. And for CRYIN' in the night-- if you are going to exercise your "rights" to open-toed footwear, keep your southern-most appendages (got sick of saying the word) looking presentable. None of this "I didn't exfoliate today", chipped polish and toe rings nonsense. Offensive.

 Bottoms:

   I love shorts that hit right where the upper and mid thigh meet. To ME, that seems to be

the most flattering length. By the way, are cropped pants with ballet flats not adorable??
  

 Tops: 
     Home stretch of my rant. This one's easy: nice tanks and t-shirts with some embellishment. Plain layering tanks are for layering. Try to stay away from any verbiage on your clothing.
                    
                       

 Summer fashion can easily stay classy. Don't neglect accessorizing. The bare minimum looks boring and-- bare!! I leave you with these words, so relevant to summer fashion:
    If you're not going to do it right, don't do it at all.*
                                     *But please remain clothed.

    

  

Haphazard Thoughts

   -Guys aren't usually much for kitchens. The only men who want to bake ARE baked.

   -I'm surprised the suicide rate among cake decorators isn't higher.

   -I used to think spring was overrated.
  
   -Who eats cooked fruit?? Ok, maybe apples.

   -I've been learning so much lately about how to connect with people.

  -I love to form my own can-can line between 2 parallel mirrors. Pfff, try telling me you've never done it.

  -Skinny jeans with flip flops look wrong. Flip flops in general are wrong. That's a whole 'nother blog (and it will be).
 
  -I never liked brownies until I ate a frozen one.

-Once I saw a motorcyclist out with no helmet. But the greater offense: he paired a denim
  jacket with jeans. No, no, no.

I Scream

  I HAVE to go to San Fransisco-- I just have to.
   There's this little ice cream place called "Humphry Slocombe" I'm dying to try. Everything is made from fresh, organic ingredients. And even though I'm "kinda vegan", I am readily willing to break that for this place. And the flavors-- oh buddy. Right up my alley. For those of you who are like me and aren't big into link clicking, I'll shorthand it for you. A few flavors I'm dying to try:
   Balsamic Caramel, Green Tea-Black Sesame, Cinnamon Brittle, McEvoy Olive Oil, Honey Thyme, Peanut Butter Curry, Pepper-Mint, Red hot Banana, Salt and Pepper, Banana Pecan, and White chocolate lavender. There are plenty of sorbets I'm dying to spoon-attack also. Cantaloupe, Golden Beet Saffron, Pineapple 5-spice, Thai chili lime, and Carrot-mango.
   So if any of you are planning an upcoming trip to SanFran, you have two choices. Take me
with you, or return with a very full cooler. Thanks in advance.

Casa____a

  The other day, a middle aged gentleman came in for a cuppa coffee. I recall the house blend that day was Sierra Madre-- a lovely dark roast with a subtle nutty undertone.
  "Sierra Madre--", said the customer, "that's the name of a Humphrey Bogart movie. I bet you didn't know that." I, in fact, did not know this.
   He went on, "Can you name his most famous movie?"
  I don't know what to tell you. I'm really not familiar with his work, or even movies from that era. I thought for a minute and admitted I did not know the answer, when he told me (it's Casablanca, by the way).
   I have to tell you, this conversation irked me just a little. In my mind, he was tip-toeing just a bit too close to the border of 'condesending',just because I'm not a connoisseur of "the talkies". Different generations are variously savvied. Fact'a life. I really wanted to come back at him with:
  "What does Flava Flav always wear around his neck? When does the last season of 'The Hills' start? Name ONE Usher song."
    That's what I thought.

In the Throes of Compassion

   This is my blog-- so I get to be honest, right? Cool.
  For various reasons, I'm just not a compassionate person. I am a bad reactor and my bedside manner sucks. Sometimes it's a flaw; just as often it's an advantage. I won't bore you with those particulars.
   I've lived alone for almost 6 months now. I think over the course of the past week, it's finally started sinking in that this is "all me". I'm responsible for everything that takes place or doesn't in my life. If 'X' runs my bank account dry, or 'Y' gets me in hot water, or 'Z'causes something unthinkable, I have only myself to blame. Reality is striking, and it's turning me back into the worrier I have been in the past.
  Worry is a funny thing-- it can really have a ripple effect. Last week when I had a day off, allI could do was "what if" about myself and everyone I know. I'm trying to find the owner of a stray cat, and I'm feeling so uneasy about all that (again, I won't bore you with particulars). I remember a couple months ago when a coworker's mom was in the hospital with a dire emergency. I sat on my couch for hours and worried for this girl I barely knew. My friend, boss/coworker, and extended family member Kelly has cancer. I don't usually talk to people about it because it makes me worry and hurt for her. Just writing that sentence provokes an uneasiness I never want to experience again. At this moment, my friend Chad is at the hospital with his dad, feeling powerless and scared.
   Here comes some more honesty: I'm so glad I wasn't blessed with the gift of compassion. Hurting for people... hurts. I've walked my share of painful valleys in my life. Why would I want to revisit those when I don't have to? Commiseration is incredibly foreign to me. I was never taught how to cope with it. (But was anyone?) So here's what I want to know: if I'm hurting for someone, is it 'heartless' of me to choose to "just stop thinking about it"? Do I become kin to Satan himself if I opt not to think about it in the first place?
   I don't know how you tenderhearted types do it-- but more power to 'ya.

The Fountain of Truth

  So far in my life, I would like to think I've managed to stay outside the stereotypical box  that accompanies my age group.
    When I was 18, I did not straighten the life out of my hair. I was not a social addict. I was able to see past the screen on my phone. I savored other "amaaazing" beverages besides Frappuccinos (I can't tell you how much I hate that term) and strawberry smoothies. And I was aware that there is a world outside the Jordan Creek Panera.
       Generally speaking, so far, so good. But that doesn't mean I'm home free. Lately I can't seem to stop "what if"-ing.

 When I turn 46, am I going to be able to discuss other things besides gardening and my experience with Slim Fast? Will I tuck blouses into my jeans? Will I take pride in using coupons, and will it take me 6 minutes to decide I want a vanilla latte?? Will I be able to write less than 9-sentence posts on social networking sites?

  When I turn 76, am I going to be that lady in the front row at a Gaither concert, obliviously clapping off-beat to "Roses will Bloom Again"? Will I greet the dawn before it greets me?? Will I take 18 minutes to decide I want chicken salad, black coffee and a lemon bar? Will the needle on my speedometer ever live to see the speed limit? What kind of sweaters will my wardrobe claim? Will I believe everything I'm told?

   I totally get that aging is a gift, but the mannerisms-- it worries me, you guys.

Haphazard Thoughts

 -I remember in school I used to hear about how the Pilgrims had to eat succotash on the Mayflower. It always sounded so gross to me. Sort of like it "sucked tash". Turns out it's good stuff! I even make a salsa version.

   -I have 198 hangers in my house, each of which are occupied. Can you see why I opted to forfeit shopping for Lent?

  -When young  people say, "Live with no regrets", does that translate: "Don't do stupid things you'll regret", or "Don't regret the stupid things you do" ?

  -To me, seeing old people use cell phones is like seeing a monkey ride a bike. Only louder and  with more confusion.

  -I've had a lot of spare time since giving up shopping and facebook games for Lent. I've done a great deal of organizing, including the pantry. And hey, at the bottom, I finally found a set of hand weights I've been missing for months. Pity-- I got a lot of exercise looking for those things.