Saturday, January 14, 2012

Hipsters say "you've probably never heard of it" because they don't want the masses to know about cool stuff and RUIN it!

I posted recently about the fact that morning is my favourite time of day. I really do enjoy the quiet peacefulness of it all. There's just something about being the first one up.
I have my routine - take my medication, drink a bunch of water, let the dog out, feed the dog, get on the computer. Enjoy the silence. (you're welcome for the earworm).
Lately, a certain someone has been ruining my peace:
Dewey - official sunrise gazer, disturber of the peace
We just recently went to Kauai to celebrate my 40th birthday. This was my third time to the islands, but the boys' first. I wanted my family around me when I celebrated. There is a three-hour time difference, so when it was 7 am in Utah, it was 4 am in Hawaii. I wake up at the same time every day. So when we were on holiday, I woke up at 4 am local time. By the time 6 am rolled around, I had been up for two hours, so I would be completely awake. The weather is so beautiful there that at 6 am it's 70 degrees outside. We were staying right on the beach, so I would go outside and just listen and breathe.
When we flew out of Utah, our flight was at 6 am, so we left our house at 4:30 am. Our first leg was to SFO, and Dewey and I shared a row. We watched the sun come up as we were flying away from it.
The first morning in Kauai, Dewey came out to hang out with me while I was enjoying the quiet. He sat next to me on the beach, and then he sat on my lap on a beach chair and we cuddled while the sun rose:
Kapaa, Kauai Sunrise
My mother-in-law (the in-laws were travelling with us too) had given the boys notebooks to use as journals while we were there, and some pencil crayons if they wanted to draw pictures. Dewey drew the coolest picture of that sunrise.
It became a tradition for us to go out together each morning and watch the sunrise together. He would even come in and wake me up saying, "Mom! Is it time for the sunrise yet?"
While I love my little boy and I know that these moments will leave me, he's ruining mornings for me! It's all my fault for introducing him to the marvelous beauty that is the sunrise.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Commuting with Sirius

Two years ago, the company I worked for closed the office I worked in so I had to change locations. The office I was at was two miles from home. The new office is 15 miles away. My commute went from five minutes to fifteen, so my commute tripled. My positive spin on this was that at least I got to listen to the radio.
I have a special place in my heart for radio. When I was nine years old, I travelled half way across Canada with my family. We road-tripped in our 1978 LTD Station wagon towing a tent-trailer. I can only imagine what a nightmare trip that must have been for my parents as I am the oldest of four children. My youngest sister was not even two when we made this trip. Let me tell you a little bit about Canada. Ninety percent of Canada's population live within 50 miles of the Canada-U.S. border. There is one highway in Canada, the Trans-Canada highway. (just kidding, there are more highways, but the Trans-Canada is the big one that goes from the West Coast all the way east) It travels along where the railroad was built. Once you get past the Rockies, the Trans-Canada is a straight shot all the way to Ontario. There are three provinces between British Columbia and Ontario. They are all flat and they are all boring. Once we got to the prairies, we saw nothing but wheat fields for 3 days. Needless to say, my parents got divorced right after we got home from that trip.
While traveling in the station wagon, my sister and brother and I would play "radio station". My dad had bought this portable stereo to take on the trip so that we could amuse ourselves. (I think) It had a radio, an 8-track and a cassete deck. - This was 1980 - . How awesome is that? My dad had that radio forever. I wonder if he still has it? Anyway, we would record songs off the radio, or off the 8-tracks. It had a microphone, so we would make up our own songs, and interview each other and make up all kinds of stuff. My mum said that the tape recorder saved us from boredom the whole trip. We had so much fun with it. Our station call sign was KJDS Kids Radio. (KJDS are the first initials of all us kids).
I have been in love with radio ever since. Especially morning radio. I dreamed of becoming a Disc Jockey when I grew up. Still do. Radio has been my window to the outside. It has been my soundtrack to my life. It has helped me to find new and interesting things. It helps me to laugh and it always always helped me to get up in the morning.
We have a subscription to Sirius XM radio. We were introduced to it when my father-in-law passed away and we inherited his truck. He lived in the middle-of-nowhere, so he had XM radio installed in his truck. My husband fell in love with it and had it installed in my car too.
Once I learned how to use it, I fell in love with it too - especially when my favourite radio station in Utah went off the air. My two favourite stations on XM are Alt Nation and First Wave.
Sometimes my commute can totally suck because there is nothing good on the radio. Chunga is on commercial, and Sirius has nothing good on. I'm pretty sure that my death is going to be caused my me crashing at 75 MPH while flipping through the stations trying to find something good to listen to.
My morning commute was just that way this morning. The boys had no school, so I was able to get out of the house a little earlier than usual. Fortunately for me, this made up for the lack of something good on the radio:
What a beautiful sunrise!

The ride home was much more tolerable. There was this lovely ditty, and here is the last song I heard when pulling into the driveway.
But this, this right here made my day. You need to check it out. It is awesome and lovely and gorgeous and will make you feel all groovy inside.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

House Rules

In the last two days I have received phone calls from various sources asking me if I know where my children are.
The first one was from their father as they had not come home from school and he had to leave for work. (They're usually home by now) That morning on the way to school, Dewey had asked me if he could go to a friends after school and I said that it was okay with me if it was okay with them. Apparently, it was not only okay for Dewey, but Huey was invited too. Turns out they were there at the neighbours alive and everything was cool. The mom had asked Dewey if we knew where he was and he assured her that he had asked me and I was okay with everything. Unfortunately, I had not mentioned this to their father.
So we re-established the let us know where you are by calling us rule.
The next day, I got a call on my cell phone from the school telling me that Dewey was still at school and Huey was no where to be found. They checked with his teacher and paged him, called home and searched the school. I called home and no answer and called their dad and no answer so I left him a message and told the school that I would be right there. As I was leaving work, I called home one more time and Huey answered. This is how the conversation went:
Eleven-year-old capable of thinking for himself: Hello?
Irate mother: Hi!
Clueless boy: Hi....
Spazzing out mother: So, do you know where your brother is?
Darling boy: No....
Crazy lady: Don't you think you should know where he is?
Wonderful boy: uh....
About to snap mother: He's at the school. Why did you leave without him?
My favourite son: Well, the girls (that I'm supposed to walk with to make sure that they're safe and don't get kidnapped or molested) didn't want to wait so they just took of walking and so I just went with them.
Darling darling wonderful boy: mmm hmm.
I called the school and told them that Huey was home and that it was okay for Dewey to go home and that I would be there in a few minutes.
Fortunately, Selena Gomez came on the radio and put me in a better mood and helped me calm down before I got home and ripped their heads off.
When I got home, Huey and Dewey were in the driveway about to go in the garage. I'm proud of both of them for the following:
1) Immediately following my phonecall, Huey jumped on his bike to meet Dewey so that he wouldn't have to walk home alone.
2) On the way home, they established a meeting place so that they wouldn't have to search the school looking for each other anymore.
3) They found a $100.00 bill on the street, but, wanting to be a good scout (his words) Huey made Dewey just leave it. (we went back to find it so that I could knock on the neighbour's door to see if it was theirs, but it was gone)
4) Huey was fulfilling his responsibility and acting like a gentleman in making sure the girls got home safe. (forgetting his flesh and blood brother in the process, but whatever)
So in addition to their very smart plan of having a meeting place, they have now had it drilled in to their heads that flesh and blood comes first and that you never EVER EVER leave your brother behind.

Monday, January 9, 2012

Literally Driving Myself Crazy

You know that you are an agressive driver when your two-year-old yells "Go!!" from his carseat when the light turns green and no one is going.
I get so frustrated with the drivers around here. I swear that since Utah is full of Mormons that they are just relying on the Holy Spirit to keep them safe, so they don't have to pay attention. To anything. Green lights, speed limits, passing lanes, traffic laws in general. I have been known to yell out loud knowing full well that they can't hear me at the people on the road in front of me.
I don't usually honk or gesture, I do try to be patient. This one time I was waiting for the light to change green. We were in a long line of cars when the light turned green. All the cars went when the light changed except for the car in front of me. I waited the required 5 seconds to allow the person to notice and go and when they didn't go, I tooted my horn. I didn't lay on my horn or honk loudly or yell "GO!!" out my window. I just tooted to urge them along. The dude FLIPPED ME THE BIRD!! What a chump.
So besides people not knowing that green means go, I cannot tolerate not going at least the speed limit. I am aware that it is a speed LIMIT and not a guideline. I am aware that there are reasons that one would not go the speed limit, like weather conditions, or traffic, or stupid idiots, but come ON! Don't they know that I have places to be? Why can't they just get over? Brigham Young made it so that we have really wide streets so there are almost two lanes going everywhere. MOVE. OVER!
I have this fear that if people habitually drive slow on a certain stretch of road that they will lower the speed limit because that is just what everyone drives. There is this stretch of road near my house that the posted speed limit is 50 mph and then goes to 55 mph. People must not know this because they drive between 40 and 45 along there and to make matters worse there is only one lane. It drives me NUTS. I want to take out a bull horn and yell at all the people in front of me "Yo! It's FIFTY! Move it!" We need bigger signs and they need to be posted more frequently along that road.
I almost committed hairy carey today what with all the driving 10 under that was happening. Thank goodness that new Gotye song came on the radio and chilled me out and distracted me enough to not get out my flamethrower and go crazy in the middle of the road today.

Going from Hate to Love

I'm not a morning person, but I love morning. As a matter of fact, I think that morning may be my favourite time of day. I like to get up early before everyone else and enjoy the peace and quiet and be the first one to experience the day. Getting up first also means that I get to be the first one to see this:
Our neighbours' trees blanketed in snow
That's right kids - SNOW! As you can see, we got about 2 inches of heavy, wet white stuff. This is our first real snow of the year, so it was most welcome. Usually we have had a couple of storms by now, but winter came late this year.
I. LOVE. SNOW. Let me repeat: I LOVE it. Just look at how beautiful it is! It makes everything so quiet and it is so lovely before it gets tracked in and messed up. I just love the look of virgin snow. It also conjures up thoughts of hot chocolate and cozy sweaters and cute hats and scarves and warm boots. My dog goes NUTS for the snow and I love to take him for walks when it has snowed.
I have not always been such a fan of snow. I am mostly a rain lover. I love love love rain. Being from British Columbia, it's sort of a requirement to deal with the rain, but I really love it when it rains. It's so beautiful. Here in Utah, one does not get much in the way of precipitation. Snow is precipitation, so I have learned to appreciate it in that at least it's something falling out of the sky.
The first year I was here, we had a HUGE storm on my birthday which is December 8. I was so mad. I think we got a foot of snow in one day. The power went out, it was cold and miserable and so was I. Then I remembered how when I was in grade two we had a freak snow storm and I got to wear my snow suit to school on my birthday. I loved it, it made me so happy. It was like the snow was my special birthday present. Having a birthday in December does not have many perks. Snow is one of those perks. I remember I always wished for snow on my birthday, but I can only remember a handful of birthdays that gave me snow. Most of those birthdays were either in Michigan or Utah, not Canada.
I could never drive in the snow. BC is very hilly, and wet. When it snows, it is wet and oh so slippery. No one knows how to drive in the snow except for the one guy from Ontario that drives circles around everone else creeping along making it even more dangerous for everyone. The lower mainland of BC is not equipped for snow. We only have the one plow, and we don't use salt, we use sand. Driving in BC in the snow can be a very harrowing experience. "But it's Canada!" you say. You have no idea. In the lower mainland (Vancouver area), we maybe get snow once or twice a year. It is not a regular occurance and no one (with the exception of the dorks from back east) knows how to live in snow. We keep the snow in the mountains where it belongs.
I have since learned to drive in the snow. I lived through two winters in Michigan and I have been here in Utah for 15. Every year with the first snow you have to remind yourself to go slow and leave a lot of room around yourself, but it is not NEARLY as daunting as driving in the snow in BC. Also, we are used to the snow here, so there are these beautiful plows that can get the roads cleared quickly enough. I could kiss a plow driver. They are the best people in the world. Also, Utah is dry, so the snow is usually powder. There can be snow on the ground and the roads are mostly dry.
So with the thought that snow is at least precipitation, remembering my girlhood wishes for snow, and due to the excellent plow services of UDOT, I now love snow.
Snow on our roof attempting to bury our Christmas lights

Our front railing and my rose bushes buried in snow

Friday, January 6, 2012

Just in case you were wondering...

I know you know this, but I just wanted to let you all know that I love my husband. He is a great man, fantastic father and all around great guy. (no, he's not holding a gun to my head). He's not always a tyrant. He has his faults and SO DO I.
This is MY forum however, so I get to say whatever I want and it gets to be from my perspective. He can start his own blog if he wants to say all the stuff he wants to about me, but alas, he has informed me that he has a life, so he doesn't need a blog.
Shows you what he knows. I have a life too - BLOGGING is my life.

MEN! They are the WORST! I swear...

These are my boys cowboyed up. The Photographer (now eleven) is on the left, taken when he was seven, Hose B is on the right, taken when he was six (he's seven now). Being a city girl by nature, I wasn't initially in support of the cowboy lifestyle that they have embraced, but they're boys and I strongly believe in letting them find their own style and their own "thang" so I let them. Plus, they are adorable AND so handsome.
They give me hope for man with their wonderfulness as much as their father takes that hope and smashes it like so many water balloons on the concrete sidewalk.
I swear the only reason men get married is because they are sick of picking up after themselves and they are too grown to move back with their mommy. I have accused my Darling Husband of this many times to which he vehemently denies, but as he has done NOTHING to disprove my theory, I'm sticking to this belief.
Case in point - last night and this morning.
DH came home earlier from work because he and I were supposed to go to Roundtable, which is the monthly meeting that the local BSA District holds. He and I both volunteer for the Boy Scouts. Him with the Boy Scouts and I with the Cub Scouts. When DH came home 45 minutes after I, the house was a mess and the boys were in front of the TV and I was blogging. He spazzed out on everyone and started ordering the boys around barking instructions left and right. He has this habit of acting like a tyrant. I keep telling him about the difference between vinegar and honey, but he doesn't seem to care. He decided to skip the meeting and stay home "because someone needs to discipline the children" (almost punched him in the face). Being more than happy to get the heck out of there and leave him alone to be the better mother than I am that he thinks he is, I went to get ready to go to Roundtable. Just before I was to put my shoes on and leave, I got horrible stomach cramps and a stabbing headache. It came along so suddenly and I ended up fetal on the bed for an hour or so.
It doesn't matter what state I'm in, I'm still the one everyone goes to when they need to know something. While I was in the bathroom I was interrupted twice. Once by Huey who wanted to know when I was going to be home from my meeting, and once by Dewey who had been sent by Daddy to find his reading folder. CAN'T THEY SEE THAT I'M BUSY? I once saw an IT guy with a t-shirt that read "let me drop everything and deal with YOUR problem". I feel like I must have an invisible sign around my neck that says that very same thing. All three testosterone possessors in my house seem to be blind to any activity I am engaged in and are of the mind that I am there for their purpose and theirs alone. I get that I have made my bed by jumping at the smallest beck and call for help, but I also know that ALL men act like they are helpless babies so that the women in their lives will act like servants. I think it triggers some sort of mothering instinct and we automatically react to helpless babies. I constantly hear queries of "where is the (fill in the blank)" or "have you seen my (you name it)". They even call me if I am not present to ask me if I know. As if I am the warden of the stuff and I know where everything is. The problem is that I usually do know where everything is even if I have NEVER EVER even touched the thing.
So last night, I feel like I'm being stabbed from the inside and I have no idea what is wrong, so I can't give my husband a diagnosis let alone a prognosis or even decide what to take to make the ailment go away so that I can get back to the task of doing whatever the heck it is he wants me to do, and he won't leave me alone. When he's sleeping or working or doing whatever, I just take care of things like he's not here and leave him alone. No one would dream of making DADDY drop whatever he's in the middle of doing to help them with homework/logging on to a pencil/or whatever. Most of the time, when DH interrupts me to do something for him, I am in the middle of doing something that he's constantly nagging me that it never gets done and intersperses his request with criticisms about how the house is a mess. "Are you seriously griping at me about not cleaning the house while I'm cleaning the house?" is my constant arguement. That drives me nuts. How stupid do you have to be to tell someone that they never vacuum while they are in the middle of vacuuming? Isn't it obvious that I am vacuuming RIGHT NOW? Are you effing blind?
So while I am curled up in a ball in my bedroom, I have to constantly answer the questions that are being posed to me. What is it about the brain of the mother that she can NOT turn off or tune out or ignore the things that are going on in the house at any given time? I try to tell them to pretend that I'm not here or that I'm dead, but I will inevitably hear DH ask Dewey about something and I will need to answer to straighten things out because I can't stand listening to them arguing back and forth.
Finally, the boys went to bed, DH went back to work and I could finally relax enough to fall asleep.
The next morning (this morning) I was not feeling normal. Having had a terrible night's sleep and not running on all cylinders, I was behind on getting everyone up and ready. Since DH works late, I do my best to make sure everyone lets Daddy sleep. I take care of the dog, get the boys up and fed and dressed and off to school, make the lunches and get myself ready too. Normally this task is easy to accommplish, but I was feeling super crappy. I ended up having to take the boys to school in my jammies and coming back home to shower and get ready for work and get to work. I didn't even dry my hair and I was still 40 minutes late for work.
When I was putting my make-up on I double pumped my foundation because 1 pump didn't look like enough (sometimes the pump misfires) and I ended up looking like I did when I was in my Mime phase. I tried washing it off and matting things down with powder, but that only made matters worse. I should have just washed my face and went to work sans make-up, but I was already so invested that I just went with it. When I came home from work and was putting my hair up into a ponytail I noticed the very visible line of foundation along my hair and jawline. I had my hair down and was wearing a turtleneck, so hopefully no one at work noticed my stellar spackling job.
While I was stumbling around, DH was wide awake and ordering the boys around and disrupting the whole morning routine. He was so helpful in informing me that the dog was barking and bothering the neighbours. I kept getting distracted by his requests and tidbits of super useful information that I kept forgetting what I was doing while I was in the middle of doing it. I love him, but what would have really helped was if he did something like this: "Hey Rantgirl, you look like you're still not feeling well. Since I'm up and wide awake, why don't I run the boys to school so that you can get ready for work in peace?"
Why can't he open his eyes? Why do I have to spell out everything in minute detail what I want or need or expect. Why can't he think? Why doesn't he know? Why can't he figure it out? What is wrong with him? I know that he's not blind and I'm fairly certain that he's not stupid. We've been together for 15 years, why hasn't he figured me out? I know he knows me pretty well by the way he pushes my buttons with such proficency and by the nice presents he gets me, so how can someone know someone only some of the time. I'm not THAT complicated am I?

Thursday, January 5, 2012


Here is a recent photo of me in Kauai:
It was taken just after my 40th birthday. Note the black t-shirt. This is one of my very favourite photos of me.

I have a number of photos of me hugging trees. Here's one of me in Maui in 2007: 
I am a literal tree hugger. (I am SO laughing at myself right now because I can see that I am wearing a black jacket! I think my mother is right!)

So my DH pointed out to me that all my blog was about was what I was wearing and that's pretty boring, so I started another blog. It's called WhatIWore. If you go to my profile you can see both blogs. So the 'style' portion of my life will be over there, and the ranting and raving and whining and moaning will be over here.
I literally could not sleep last night. I was thinking of all the things I could blog about and how the what I wore portion needed to be a separate blog and how I need to rant in this forum. That was why I named it that. That is why I am rant girl.
Some clarifications:
1) I have not been diagnosed with depression where I am in therapy and on medication. Many general practice doctors have told me that I'm "probably depressed". I do get depressed and stressed, and writing and journaling DOES help me with that, and many therapists that I have talked to have advised me to write to sort things out. I am not seeing a therapist and I am not on medication and I am not clinically depressed. That whole thing about my therapist was kind of a joke. Sorry if I mislead anyone.
2) I really do and do not care what people think of me. My sister, Jennifer "her awesomeness" Bowie, told me that she thought it was funny that in my profile I outright say that I care about what people think, where my very first post stated that I don't care what people think of me anymore. I care what people think if it's positive and feeds my ego. I desperately need to have my ego fed and be told how shiny and sparkly and awesome and funny I am. (so thanks SO much for all the comments!) I don't care what people think when it's negative and critical and stupid.
3) I have some addictions. They are as follows; Shoes, nail polish, Dr. Pepper, black t-shirts, and blogging.
4) I noticed that I was wearing a black t-shirt AND shorts AND my apron is black in my last post. That black t-shirt has writing on it and was not included in the black t-shirt count. I also forgot the 1200 pairs of black yoga pants I own. Black is slimming, right? I'm a colourful enough person that my wardrobe does not need to reflect that. Or I like to disappear in to the background, so I wear a lot of black. Or I really am scarred from the Matthew at the Zone incident. Or all of the above. You be the judge, internet.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

In the Closet

Just thought you would like to see what I look like in my messy kitchen while making dinner in my "Zip It" shorty shorts. Attractive, no?

Seriously, I wanted to show you my newly organized closet. I am so proud. When we built this house, one of my requirements was that there was a walk-in closet. Here it is:
This is how I store my shoes
More shoes, "Dresser"
Sweaters piled high
I was crammed into my husband's side of the closet to try to document the rest. Notice my awesome "Dresser". (note - I don't own one)
For grins, and to give my Darling Husband unnecessary ammunition, I did a count. I have the following:
12 pairs of black shoes (13 if you count the flip-flops in the front hall closet)
4 black purses
12 black t-shirts (some V-neck, some scoop neck)
9 white t-shirts
That doesn't include the 2 black turtlenecks and various black sweaters/cardigans, black skirts, pants and dress. (every girl needs an LBD, and I have only one at the moment)
I'm not saying I need more colour in my wardrobe, I have other things in my closet as you can see, I just tend to cling to certain things, black shirts being one of them. (Black's slimming, right?)
A history: When I was in grade eight, I saw a really tall grade ten boy named Matthew and instantly fell in love with him. I followed him around any time I got the chance. When I was in grade ten, I had the opportunity to date him. (at first when my friend Jason told me that Matthew wanted to take me to Jason's Christmas party, I thought he was joking. He wasn't. I was elated) On one of our first dates, Matthew invited me to go with him to a local teen dance club called the Zone. It was a very alternative club. I asked him what I should wear. His instructions were, "I don't know, something black." I did not own anything totally black. Being the skate Betty that I was, I had some black and grey plaid pants and some black high-top Converse Chuck T's. I wore those with a white button-up shirt buttoned all the way up with a brooch at the neck, and a PINK CABLE KNIT SWEATER. We went to the club where we ran in to his uber-cool awesome beautiful ex-girlfriend where he pretended to either not know me or be baby-sitting me. I couldn't figure out what the problem was. I thought I looked nice. This was his review after the fact: "I told you to wear something BLACK, and you wore something PINK." Needless to say, he out-cooled me by about a million.
Immediately following, I went to Le Chateau and bought a black turtleneck. Seems like that experience has been branded deeply into my brain and I must at all times always have "something black" available in case Matthew ever invites me to go to the Zone with him.

What I Wore Today 1-4-12

So here is today's outfit. Please forgive the goofy facial expression/pose/picture quality, I'm still new. I hope it gets better, not really looking to chronicle my level of idiocy. I was trying to document my hairstyle (ponytail) and more importantly my shoes. Major fail on both points
Grey 3/4 length boat-neck sweater, black pinstripe pants, awesome platform suede pumps. (I took this one at work, hence the ID badge) Again I am devastated that you can't see my shoes. They are my most recent purchase and my greatest love. I wear a lot of black tights in the winter and I am constantly on the search for 1) shoes that I can wear with black tights, and 2) the perfect pair of black pumps.
Weight: 164.4.
A history: in 1990 or somewhere around there, I bought a pair of black pointy-toed 2 inch pumps from Le Chateau. They were perfect. They were the perfect height, the perfect pointy-ness, the perfect shade of black, the perfect comfort, the perfect curvy heel. The best compliment I ever got while wearing them was when my mum pointed them out to my Aunt Jo-Ann saying, "Look at her shoes, aren't they exactly like all the shoes we wore in the sixties?" Aunt Jo-Ann agreed. My Aunt Jo-Ann has awesome style, so I was overjoyed that she liked my shoes. At the time I worked in the mall and was friends with the manager of one of the shoes stores (natch). In his store there were a pair of black suede and patent spectator style pumps. I fell in LOVE with them. Because he was my friend or because I was a good customer, he let me know when they went on sale which was just before my cousin Cyndi's wedding (incidentally, Cyndi is Aunt Jo-Ann's daughter) so I bought them. I had previously planned on wearing my Le Chateau pumps with my new red dress to Cyndi's wedding, and her wedding was a 5 hour drive away, so I was already packed before I went to work, and was going to drive up right after work. I bought the new spectator pumps just before leaving work, so drove up to the hotel where my family was staying with the packed Le Chateau shoes and the new spectator pumps still in the box. I decided to wear my new shoes to Cyndi's wedding because they were so pretty, and left my old Le Chateau shoes abandoned at the back of the closet in the hotel. I think they took the rejection pretty hard as they ran away and I have never seen them since. I desperately called the hotel to see if they were "in the lost and found" (I was 19 and didn't know any better), but alas, they were gone forever. EVER SINCE THAT DAY I have been searching for replacements for those shoes. I have yet to find them. I thought I found them last year, but the leather is too opaque and therefore does not look black enough to be able to go with black tights.
That is the main reason I own so many pair of black shoes.

What I Wore Today 1-3-12

So I thought that I would document my outfits. I'm no fashion icon (obvs), but I do enjoy fashion. I am no slave to fashion and have my own sense of style. My main reason for blogging this is I am trying to lose weight and I'm going to document it for the world to see.
This is from yesterday. I was going to start this yesterday, but got distracted by cleaning out my closet and organizing my shoes (a very necessary project for the sanity of my marriage).
Yesterday's weight was 164.4. The goal is somewhere around 150. That's not a lot of weight to lose, so why blog about it? Well, I've been trying to lose 10 lbs for about 2 years. I need more motivation than just that I hate the way I look in most pictures.
The poor quality of this picture is attributed to my lack of skill and experience. It will get better, I promise. (I hope).
I am wearing a pink silk turtleneck sweater, grey and black tweedy skirt (my new favourite), black tights, and black knee-high fake suede boots.
It totally bums me out that you can't see my boots. They are so awesome. I am a bit of a shoe freak (you'll see). I usually plan my outfit around what shoes I feel like wearing. So about the boots - I love them so much. I bought them a couple of years ago at Target. They're Isaac Mizrahi for Target. I loved them so much but I couldn't decide between black or brown and I needed both. Since they were so cheap, I decided to just buy both. That's how I roll.

Today is the day I started

Now I can't get that Black Eyed Peas song out of my head.
I have been meaning to do this for awhile and actually started a blog years ago but, like most things in my life, I abandoned it after 2 posts. The first blog I started I attempted to be anonymous so that I could moan and complain about the people I love without them finding out. I have since come to the place in my life where I don't care what other people think of me, so perhaps I will be more successful with this blogging thing.
We'll see. Don't hold your breath. I haven't written in my journal consistently - ever - so I would hate for folks to be checking daily for updates. My therapist told me that I should write to help me with my depression. I used my journal for ranting, raving, whining and moaning, so this will be something of a public journal, I guess. Since I am mostly doing this for therapy and totally because it's the only thing I've found to have worked with my therapy, I am going forward. (make sense?)
Happy New Year. Love you all.