Casual Friday Polished

Casual Friday Polished by MomInHeels featuring post earrings

J Crew crew neck cardigan
$62 - jcrew.com

J crew pants
$135 - jcrew.com

Old Navy cami
$9 - oldnavy.gap.com

AK Anne Klein sling back pumps
$69 - piperlime.gap.com

Michael Stars canvas tote
$65 - piperlime.gap.com

Kate Spade post earring
$38 - piperlime.gap.com

Hive and Honey link bracelet
$28 - piperlime.gap.com

...It's My Birthday Too!!

So today is my birthday. I am old. Older than I think of myself as being.

In my mind I am 27.

In the mirror I see 27. (They say the eyesight is the first to go.)

And in my mind's eye, I am 27.

Usually on my respective past birthdays I have vacillated between railing against change and craving accolades that I have achieved a new age.

This year I am experiencing an unexpected sense of calm. An almost zen, out of body appraisal of the fact that today is my birthday. That time is marching on. That change, in its maddening single mindedness, is transforming me and my life.

And I am okay with it.

Then again it could just be that I am in a state of elated countdown to my Caribbean vacation next week.

I suspect, however, it is the littlest boo that is grounding me.

That whirling, pink tulled dervish whose voice seems to only operate at decibel 10.

You all remember my grinchy holiday blog post. Well, Christmas was amazing and I survived. But. I had this thought one night on the way home from work.

I was sitting in the car at a stoplight two blocks from home. The carols were playing. It was dark and chilly out. I was staring at a house with its holiday lights and decorations.

And I realized that I will do this -- Christmas -- potentially --- 50 more times.

Fifty more Christmases.

And all that entails.

Fifty more years of living life fully as an adult.

Calculating that I have been living life fully as an adult since I was 18 -- I have only been at this for 20 years.

I have 50 more to go.

It makes time seem so liquid.

Because it isn't the actuality of the passage of time, it is how we fill those ticking tocks.

It is the milk through your nose laughter with friends -

The recognition as you enter a sun splashed room that this is your favorite time of day -

The loss of a loved one that sharpens the point of life -

The calendar entry that takes for granted tomorrow is a new day.

It is staggering and humbling and joyous to realize I may have 50 more years.


RECESSION FASHION P.S.
I have a new toy --- I found a site where I can pull together outfits with pricing links!! It is like paper dolls all over again!

I might have mentioned how I am off for my annual girls' beach winter getaway next week so I pulled together some winter getaway appropriate outfits.

Travelling in style is tough these days what with the flying sardine cans but give this comfy chic outfit a try!

Sightseeing or shopping in the warmer climes means cool, casual and pulled together!

Dinner by the sea is a must! Take advantage of the spring's love of maxi skirts to add some elegance to your evening.

Sometimes It Hits You Harder Than You'd Think

I did not know her personally, but Elizabeth Edwards was a mother and a fighter and I admired her. A few words penned to honor her --

When We Wear Our Grace

We never know the role we'll play -
The mask we'll wear -

But we polish the heart on our sleeve -
Oil the armor we wear -

And paint the town -

Our shoulders bend but never bow -
Our eyes dull but never narrow their scope -

We wear this life -
Like an evening cloak -
Furling it out when the day is good -
Shielding ourselves when the pain sets in -

Our stature never humbles -
Our expectations tried and true -
Let us fight what tribulations must -
Break through -

Life is nothing -
If not spectacularly daunting and beautiful -
When we greet the day -
Wearing our well worn grace.

Fa La La La

One of my holiday traditions is to watch the National Lampoon Christmas Vacation while wrapping gifts. My favorite scene is when Chevy Chase gets locked in the attic. The number of mishaps that man experiences in the movie is mind boggling.

But I can relate.

From midnight on Thanksgiving onward I am all Christmas all the time. This is my favorite time of year.

But I have to tell you - it. just. may. kill. me.

I have found myself standing in a quiet spot of the house or office and giving myself a little pep talk.

"You can do this!", I say.

Over and over, quietly to myself.

I swear to god, the joy of the holiday has been eclipsed by one big f'ing list of things I need to do.

Because we spend every other year of Christmas in Alaska (this being that year), we celebrate two Christmases - the Alaska family Christmas and the East Coast family Christmas.

I even decorate our house even though we won't inhabit it for most of the Christmas season.

Because not only do I love Christmas, this is my job. There isn't anyone else to pick up the reins. The Angry Elf is not a myth.

So far my holiday season has gone thusly --

Right now half the basic Christmas decorations are still in boxes in the livingroom.

The nanny decorated our Christmas tree with my child while I was at work. Yep, no mother failure guilt there...not at all...

I think I've bought or found and pointed out more gifts for my in-laws than the love of my life (to whom they are related by blood).

I have bought a total of two Christmas presents for my family (East Coast Christmas).

I am logging 5 hours of sleep a night.

The love of my life has logged untold hours changing our flights three times over four weeks.

I have a spreadsheet of La C gifts broken down by which Christmas they will appear - Alaska or East Coast - and have thoroughly confused myself.

I have arrived at the office twice unshowered but with make-up on.

I just took a yoga meditation class and spent the whole hour cycling through my list of to do's freaking out.

There are two events between now and departure for Alaska that require a babysitter for which I have yet to procure said babysitter.

The thing that keeps me going?

It is worth it.

It really is.

When the lists get done or finally abandoned and I just let go and embrace the season, it will all come back to me. I will remember that Christmas is about faith. The faith that we get up every day for a purpose. It isn't about the lists. The destination. The pressure to wrap the right gift.

It is a season to celebrate that no matter what our faith, we are in this together, so let us make the best of it. We are more than our politics. More than our respective religions. We are family. And friends. And shoulders we lean on. And loves we draw strength from.

For one sparkling moment we are at our bright and shiny best. Reminding us that we can believe in whatever we want.

And that is a very good thing indeed.

Soup to Nuts

I am the first to admit I want it all.

I completely believe in the concept of Super Woman.

And why is that? What is my, our - us, as women - compunction to feel like we need to have it all? Do it all. Be it all. Is it because for so long we were given our roles in life? Is it that we are indeed the stronger, evolved gender?

Could it be as some have claimed, that we are selfish and egotistical, refusing to compromise our needs for the betterment of our families and the greater community?

Is this artful balance not simply living life to its fullest?

But what happens when the "all" takes on a slightly different appearance than what was in your head?

In your dreams?

Does it make a difference?

I recently made a decision that alters my "all". That changes the appearance I had developed of my palette of family, career, love, hobby and friends.

So now I am obsessed. I spend a great deal of time worrying that somehow I have compromised myself. I have failed to have it all because I have chosen not to take a certain step. To not gild a lily as my grandfather was fond of saying. Usually in reference to his perennial restaurant order of a Gibson and the end cut of roast beef. But I find the saying works equally well when applied to my life choices.

Because truly - why risk it? Why, when I think I have it all, why keep looking for more?

And that is where I am in my thinking today.

(Of course, a wise and dear friend has told me these things take a good year to work through, I hope I feel the same a year from now.)

So what do I conclude?

Perhaps, I haven't compromised my "all" one bit. Perhaps, I still have it and it is still complete - all the basic components teetering and swaying in happy mayhem. I just decided to stop looking for more.

There is a song I love by Terri Clark, "I Wanna Do It All" -
'I wanna do it all
See Niagara falls
Fight city hall
Feel good in my skin
Beating the odds
With my back to the wall
Try to rob Peter
Without paying Paul
I wanna do it all...'

You can do it all.

You just have to embrace what your "all" is.

Short People Got No Reason...

One of the things I love about blogs is that you get the chance to say that response that came to you three hours after the conversation ended.

Earlier today I posted a Facebook status that I want to clarify. So please join me at this intersection of social media as I respond to my Facebook posting comments via blog post.

First off, I do not read Marie Claire. Never did.

I was a Glamour girl.

But I do follow a lot of Twitter accounts that cover the gamut from the intellectual to the kind that tweet live updates of an entire episode of Project Runway.

I subscribe to this melange of information not because of some higher purpose but because I might miss something.

I might miss some nugget that will help me understand stuff other people already know. Seriously. Not kidding.

I might miss something amusing to share at the next cocktail party to help alleviate my painful small-talk phobia.

I might miss something that makes me interesting.

When the love of my life and I were long distance dating on opposite coasts for three years, I became accustomed to storing up morsels of information and stories to share -- kind of like a squirrel preparing for winter.

I find myself still doing that - delighting in the "find" of a special interest piece in the NYT or a blog on the web. Storing it away until I can share it with him.

Despite the fact that he is a mere twelve inches away.

Occasionally, I stumble across a gem of no reasonable interest to me. Does not impact me. Does not even remotely concern me.

But my blood starts boiling. My righteous indignation starts marching around and wagging its finger. And my brain and mouth collaborate on a sputtering, passionate discourse to which the beleaguered love of my life is the audience of one. Until I get a second crack at it after entrapping sis on the phone.

I have a bit of history with this and I have been known to actually act on my disgust.

I started this blog as a rant against a blogger who called Christina Hendrick's fat.

In high school I saw a Macy's ad on a bus for tween girl jeans that was so provocative I wanted to throw myself at the bus to cover it up. Instead, I launched a personal boycott of Macy's -- sitting defiantly on a bench outside the store glowering at my mother as she skulked in to purchase her Clarins. I am proud to say that my boycott lasted through college -- can I help it that Macy's is now a two block away lunchtime errand?!

Then there was the innocuous Washington Post article I read in college detailing the arrest of some middle aged mother arrested for growing marijuana. It was all well and good until the last line of the article asking really, what was the harm in what she was doing?

Oh boy.

My future law school student self whipped out a nice little retort editorial that went along the lines of -- SHE WAS BREAKING THE LAW.

Well, it was published and there was that awkward moment when a "young, not yet engaged to me, charmed by my footloose and accepting self" love of my life googled my name and found the editorial.

So.

Anyhoo.

My point and bless you all for hanging in there - my point is - I get mad about stuff that no one else might think is important.

But it just may be important to somebody and it may make a difference to them that someone else understands.

This is what I learned today from a 140 character tweet ---

* There is a show on tv called Mike & Molly.

* The characters are overweight.

* Marie Claire paid for and posted on the magazine's website, a blog post in which the author stated among other things that she was grossed out by watching an overweight person cross the room much less watch two overweight tv characters fall in love and all that entails.

* No one on the whole of Marie Claire's editorial staff found this to be offensive.

Okay, so I did a little digging past the 140 characters.

I know Marie Claire is not the gold standard for living. But I also know that despite ourselves we read Marie Claire and like-minded magazines.

Instead of wasting trees to write in to the Dear Editor section that the cover picture of Megan Fox had a lot of interesting tattoos, readers should write in that the magazine can keep right ahead with the unrealistic dating advice and the crappy clothes that no one can actually wear day to night and the impossible to replicate beauty how to's - but for the love of all that is good and won't melt in your mouth -- give it a rest.

Most healthy women are NOT a size two and are sexy, smart, successful and every other exceptional alliteration.

So no, I no longer read the Marie Claire type of magazine. But I work with young women who do. I have extended family members who do. I don't need to read it - but I am glad I found out what it says so that I can write my 140 characters, status update, blog post editorial that says -- hey, this is drivel. Move along. Nothing to see here.

Be sure to read a lot of other things too.

You don't want to miss anything.

Lady and the Snark

I regularly follow a DC-based fashion blog that I find incredibly interesting but whose author I cannot stand. I have never met this young woman. But I know. I just know.

Her favorite word is snark.

She wears bows in her hair.

If you are not sure why I have listed these facts let me clarify. To snark is a cop-out for not admitting you are just being rude. No one over the age of 10 should wear a bow in their hair - that includes cheerleaders, bless their hearts.

So why do I read this woman's blog? She does the grunt work of finding trends in different price points and tries out new beauty products so I do not have to shell out the greenbacks for every new fangled tube of youth.

What can I say? I am lazy.

Occasionally, she writes something rather scathing -- or just plain snippy -- and wraps it up with a bow she describes as snarky. When did writers decide it was acceptable to label their condemnations with this decade's "it" word for rude?

But I digress.

What sets off my inner tirade with this blogger is the absence of nuance in her posts. There are writers who share their scorn with such a soft, felt-tipped squib that the reader feels like they have just read the most heartfelt compliment.

And then there are the writers who deliver their acerbic verbiage with an axe that was left out in the woodpile all winter.

My fashionista blogger...well, let us just say she resembles the blogger without the "b".

So today she really opened a can.

Large breasts.

Small breasts.

Large breasts v. small breasts.

Does size matter?

Sweet jesus it sure does. And woe is the blogger who doesn't see that speeding train of angry reader comments racing down the track after the blog post stating that small breasts are better than big.

By this point darling reader you are wondering what the gosh forsaken point of MY blog post is and you are actually becoming uncomfortable about where I am going with this.

Here we go.

When will women stop putting other women down as part of making themselves feel good?

Is fashionista blogger entitled to write a lengthy blog post highlighting her realization that she is hunky-dory with her subdued chest? We salute her for her self-acceptance! Was it necessary to celebrate aforementioned sweet petite by stating that at least she is not burdened with those horrendous larger portions that will embarrassingly sag with age? No.

A thousand times no.

21 and counting reader comments said Non! Nein! Ni Hea!

So that whole nuance thing I keep looking for in fashionista's blog? It is that ability to pen an opinion and let it stand alone.

It is a demonstration of the author's commitment to her self-worth above and beyond any comparison.

Is this asking too much of any writer, any woman? I certainly hope not because that is what I am trying to instill in my daughter.

By the way, I have great cheekbones.

Just saying.