blaugra

Shopping Trip!

As if I didn't have enough fun shopping at Kmart before Christmas, and buying up fun casual clothes and cashmere, I decided to cruise the sale at a local NY&Co.

They're usually a good go-to for work shirts, lite jackets and accessories, but I hadn't been at NY&Co in months. I just thought I could pick up yet another tunic sweater with a big cowl neck. Surprise.

I've been kinda dressing more and more like a poorly-attired butchy lesbian lately. Not cool like Ellen, not Peppermint Patty in Vermont, and definitely not Joan Jett.  Eh, I don't really know what I'm talking about, but I've really felt like a giant layered rectangle in big boots. But, dammit, it's cold and icy out there. 

I was a little shocked at what I saw at NY&Co. Here are the highlights of my shopping trip. Not exactly inspiring.

1. Tops with their own jewelry - wait, I know, that's been pushed for a while. I never really see women wearing them, though.

 

This one has built-in mardi gras beads!  How lazy is that!?  You're supposed to work for those, girls.

2. So I wanted some more leggings. What I found were these:

Aren't they so 2008?  Can we stop with the stirrup pants, unless you're a skiier or equestrian (or wear boots that suggest you might be either of those?)

And what's a "statement tunic?" What kind of statement does it make? Is a statement like a novelty? I never understood those two nouns being used as adjectives to describe garments. Someone in the biz PLEASE explain to me!  Where's Tim Gunn when I really need him?

3. I was a bit appalled at this dress.  I think a few people could really pull it off well.  Others, well, would just look like weathered cougars.

I decided I could buy it and wear it with my jungle print designer snuggie.

This excursion yielded two worthwhile items.  A $7 clearance non-butchy dress I can wear in the summer or in California when I feel bohemian and tan(ish), and a pair of denim-look leggings that are really hot.

Where should I shop next?

For the moment, I will think about design.

This guy is a relative of a good friend, so I was predisposed to checking him out.

I love his posts on the New York Times Magazine (as a guest blogger this week) so much that I want to share.

I like his crisp style.

I love the photo of his kid!   

I like the way he talks about "design." And he's worked with Philippe Starck and Sami Hayek for godssakes.

His story about recently becoming a U.S. citizen made my heart swell.  Maybe I need some aspirin now.

And here he is on, simply, "What does design mean?" I don't know Michele, why don't you tell us.

It's Complicated!

The title of the movie is annoying to Facebook-users and Denise Richards.

This does not include my mom, so she wasn't annoyed at all. 

A full house of cackling women gave it a big round of old-school applause at the end!  Love that. Take your mother, your sister, your aunt, your 40+ girlfriend.

*spoilers ahead!*

While Meryl Streep was wonderful, of course, it goes without saying, she can act the shit out of a Terms of Service agreement, Alec Baldwin was ridiculously funny.

He's such an a-hole and he is so good at playing a-holes. Bloated, selfish, hairy a-holes. A real pleasure of an a-hole to watch. He cracks me up with just a look.

Steve Martin, once again, is an architect with a tender side. John Krasinski is the cute doting sensitive son-in-law-to-be who played his way into the hearts of every 60+-year-old-woman in the theater. At each appearance on screen, I heard everyone's mother murmur around me, "What a nice boy, what else is he in?  The Office? I don't watch that. What a good job he's doing, awwww!"  like he's a puppy dog.

I knew, I KNEW, that my mom was thinking, "If only my daughter had married someone as preppy and clean-cut as John Krasinski..."  She once tried to hook me up with this little Michael J. Fox-looking-guy that she thought was so adorable for me.

The jokes about droopy boobs, menopausal sex and overactive bladders - I tell ya, freakin scared me -  much like Something's Gotta Give. Naturally. Meryl even seemed, dare I say, a bit Diane Keatonish. And I loved her eyewear.

However, this is what Meryl's character does with her life. She is not just a writer with a beach house, juggling two men, like Diane's character in Something's Gotta Give. Oh, no, she is so, soooo, much more.

She's the divorced mother of three, her oldest daughter is planning a wedding (to the wonderful John Krasinski, isn't he just the sweetest guy...), her son just graduated from college, her youngest daughter has just left for college.  So she now has an empty nest where she raised the three perfect children. The "nest" is a GORGEOUS perfectly appointed Santa Barbara dream villa. She is also the owner of a big classy bakery. She is also a French-trained pastry chef. She has also decided that she is going to build an addition to her villa because it's not good enough for her, and why?  I guess Steve Martin had to play an architect and that was the best way to incorporate that character.  And an architect is more interesting than an actuary. She makes effortless perfect dinners and desserts for all of her guests. She has time to shop for new clothes. Also, she has the perfect fantasy garden that supplies her with all the fresh-cut flowers and vegetables her heart desires. The kind of garden that you either spend twenty hours a week managing on your own, or supervising hired help to manage it for you.

The man-juggling and late night chocolate-croissant-making, in addition to running five other things, I could deal with. I mean, she doesn't have a TV and she lives in California and has a shitload of money.  You can get a lot of shit done if that's your scene. 

But toward the end of the movie, when we saw this lovely MILF strolling through her Better Homes & Gardens gardens, my mom and I nudged each other and exclaimed, "YEAH RIGHT!" That's where the fantasy ended.  All belief of Meryl's character flew away. I bought into her up to that point.  "Who is she supposed to be, freakin' Martha Stewart?" my mother muttered, and somewhat bitterly I think.  Jealous? Nah. Realistic. 

The story was a notch above reality, until this fantasy garden was being harvested. A unicorn may as well have trotted into Meryl's kitchen and whinnied for a croque-monsieur to be impaled upon his horn just then. It went beyond complicated.  Even Meryl couldn't sell that to me. 

The mary-jane scenes, though, and the Skype scene - you know the one I'm talking about -  were priceless. It was lots of fun laughing heartily with all the women in the room. That's why we go to the movies.

I love this review, especially her thoughts about the kitchen.

ONE singular sensation

I have had way too much time in solitary (apparently by choice) during the past few days and much time deliberating about life.  Post-holiday recharge. I didn't want to make any new year's resolutions. But I did.

It's my ONE campaign.  Because I can't manage too many things at one time.

1. Inspired by this chick, I decided I'm going to get rid of one thing each day. She is doing 10 things a day because she aims high and follows through. I, however, aim high and then wander around, distracted. So I made it a manageable one thing. Today I found a space heater in our basement that works fine but has gone unused for 5 years. I'm sure a family would like to buy it at a thrift shop.

2. I'm not going to aim to lose one pound a week even though that would be AWESOME. For 30 years I have made weight loss resolutions even when I was a skinny minnie. Estupida. But I resolve to eat one fresh vegetable or fruit each day. Not in sauce, juice, canned or cooked form - fresh and fibrous. Or frozen, because of the season. As long as the modifier of the veggie or fruit begins with an "f."

3. I'm going to spend at least one minute each day in quiet still reflection. Not while I'm brushing my teeth or sitting in traffic or spacing out at my desk, but deliberate stillness.  I used to be able to do this well and it took a lot of practice.

I could actually accomplish these three! And of course, one thing will lead to another, one moment to another. But if the minimum is one, then, I can do it and will feel like a success!

We should note that it is now January 3rd. I'm not good with deadlines.

BONUS!  The ONE resolution that Salty D. and I made last night at dinner! We called it the New York Resolution.

We're going to go to 'The City' once a month. Just to walk and have lunch, or check out a bar and museum, or see a movie that doesn't play in these parts. The last time we were there was in August when I requested that we go to Coney Island and Katz's Deli for my birthday, months ago. Pathetic.

New York City's proximity is such a part of Salty D. and his roots, which is why he doesn't want to leave the northeast, ever ever ever.  And yet, I "go in" more often than he does now, and it's like a major project to get him on a bus for the 1-hour-or-so ride, or drive to a train station. Way back, we used to meet up in The City and hang out on dates or see friends. It's this huge cultural, social, inspirational, artistic, gastronomical asset that we stopped using for some reason.  So I say, shut up and put your money where your mouth is. Back in the New York groove.

One love.

Review of a Decade According to Blaugra (just in the nick of time)

I feel like I'm missing out by not publishing a list of favorite bloggers or top 10 societal shifts or top 20 earworms of the 00's.  I also said I would not do a post like this.

And I have to dash off because as usual we are running late to our annual New Year's party in New Jersey, and as usual it is yukky travel weather, and as usual I am fretting about everything.  But the crab dip is delicious and ready to go, nails are done, hair is on its way to being fierce.

Life in the 2000s consisted of two distinct eras, "BB" (before blogging) and "Now."  Of course, I don't remember much from the BB era. Here is a slurry blurry review of the milestones of the decade.  According to me, my horrid memory and when I think I took that vacation.

2000

Aruba with the in-laws

Major anxiety attack after purchasing holly bush which to this day I call "the anxiety bush"

Big promotion

California

Lisa Left Eye Lopes dies (I remember this WHY?)

September 11, 2001

Leave corporate for-profit life for new job and new world

Renew wedding vows in Las Vegas with Elvis minister

Arizona

Bestie gets married in Las Vegas

Dad has heart surgery

2005

New job

Blaugra is born

Run a film festival

Another mental emergency, a final diagnosis. Yay.

Salty D. finally purchases his dream Harley-Davidson.

I become his "old lady."

Jamaica

My uncle dies.

Another anxiety attack, another ER visit, another "you're NOT dying!"

I turn 40.

Mexico

Twitter!

Rhode Island

New Orleans

Black president OMG

California

New England

BlogHer in Chicago

Parents move, mother has nervous breakdowns, I become the parent

Internal peace

2010

Happy New Year!

Yikes I'm in trouble for blogging again, must realllly dash!

This sure beats Christmas Eve in the psych ward.

That was my brother's compliment to me, the hostess, at tonite's holiday meal. My response was, "Sounds like you've got the makings of a good country song lyric."

Did you know you're not supposed to call it the psych ward? I was told, TOLD, when I went to visit recently.  It's BEHAVIORAL HEALTH SERVICES.  Oh, behaaave.

But anyway, I did not get cooking early enough today so as we approached the arrival time of my family, I turned into an Iron Chef contestant. Where are the olive dishes? Dammit, I'm late with the damn clams! The crudite isn't out yet!! Could you stir this while I go give myself a pit bath? (because I didn't leave time to shower today so I did a little 5-minute primp and I was good to go. I smelled like a bucket of lobster shells anyway)

Timing the cooking of a big paella is a little frantic toward the end, because you don't want overcooked rubbery shellfish, but the damn clams need to open. This one was my best paella yet.

10 minutes after my brother and parents left, there was a knock on the door.  It was Mom. "I forgot to ask, do you have that little bottle of Sambuca?" 

Mom has recently taken a liking to post-dinner Sambuca. She found out I had a little bottle that I don't drink, and keeps asking me for it, and I keep forgetting to give it to her. I also forgot to offer her some after dinner. So I said, "Yes, I have it, do you want it now?"  Duh. That's why she came back, looking for a Sambuca fix.  "Yes!" she said, "I'll take it now!" and I gave her the bottle and she scurried off into the darkness.

That was so strange.

so much more, and photos, after the jump!

Well, that was interesting.

I blame it on Ellen. I watched this show when I was home from work one day and got ideas in my head.

Since it's winter and my hair is dried out I decided to try the sweet syrup mask tonight.

I gently heated up some maple syrup. I don't think I needed to heat it, but I did, thinking that oh, if it's warm it will condition even more deeply. I poured it on my scalp. It didn't feel as cool to the touch on my scalp as it did on my finger.  Burned the scalp. Don't do that.

Then, as Kym demonstrated, I wrapped my head in plastic wrap. Salty D. walked in on me and said, "Are you trying to communicate with the aliens now?" and kept on walking.

I figured then that the syrup was contained and I would go about the house doing my thing. I went to the basement to finish the laundry. I brought the clean sheets and towels upstairs. I put away dishes and stuff. Drops of syrup started to ooze onto my forehead. Then they escaped down my neck. On to my shirt. I didn't notice all the syrup leaking out of the plastic wrap until I was done folding all the laundry and making the bed. See, I wasn't wearing my glasses due to the syrup thing, so I couldn't really see the laundry. So the clean sheets on the bed have little droplets of syrup on them.  I just sponged them off a little, so what's a little sugar in the sheets?

But anyway, you put the syrup on your hair when it's dry, then you work shampoo and water into it at the same time. This works with honey, olive oil, yogurt, mayonnaise, egg yolks...whatever leftover food you have will probably be suitable for pouring on your head. Kym Douglas might disagree with me. But I'm wondering if I can use that half-eaten jar of applesauce in the fridge.

Alright, so my hair does smell nice but I don't know if it's the maple syrup or because I finally washed it after a few days of having it bundled up under hats. My scalp kinda hurts where I burned it, which means it will peel later this week, so I'm looking forward to that.

This was really a stellar Sunday evening.

Shopping with Jaclyn

Remember Kmart?  I've mentioned that good Kmarts are hard to find, and that my past experiences had influenced me to steer clear. Well, a few months later, and here I am following Kmart design, noticing when they were at BlogHer, and comparing their design house to that of Target's, and shopping.

Jaclyn Smith was my favorite Angel and I've loved her in anything on TV since. She's accessible while being inspiring and classy. I had checked out her line of clothing through the years. I have a zippy sweater thing of hers that I bought about 8 years ago and still love it. 

Now let's live in the now, almost 2010! 

I found a nearby Kmart to help me stock my closet and had a surprisingly happy experience.

I remembered there was a shooting and robbery at the Kmart I decided to visit, so I approached the almost empty parking lot with overreactive caution. The store stands alone, it's not supported by anything else, so that's weird too. But inside, it was really, really fun. Music was playing and the store was clean and well organized. The people who worked there were friendly. They actually acted like sales people. One woman hand-sold me an item as she was stocking it!  WOW! What retail employees are supposed to do!! Contrast this to experiences at my newest Target, which is always dead silent except for screeching children, with indifferent service, and I want to bolt out of there as quickly as I can. Contrast that to my past admiration of Target.  What happened there? 

You've probably heard about Jaclyn's cashmere sweaters at Kmart. They're gorgeous and a very nice price. I picked up an electric blue turtleneck. My first cashmere.  And now it's on sale for $35, AND NOW YOU CAN BUY ONE GET ONE FREE. $35 for two cashmere sweaters.  People, get on the stick! 

Cowl neck sweaters, comfy and chic.  Ruched black leggings, and sweater tunics, better than the ones at Target.  Jeans that fit. I repeat:  JEANS THAT FIT.

I admit I have a hard time pulling myself together these days. I'm not organized enough, I think I just need a much bigger closet and a wider array of belts and shoes and scarves. When I've tweeted about being belt-a-phobic, the Kmart Design crew gave me advice that made me feel good.

I was inexplicably drawn to the Christmas department. I decided to buy my first artifical Xmas wreath but I didn't want it to be too red-and-green Christmasy. I wanted glitter and sparkle and lots of colors. I was this close to buying Jaclyn's peacock wreath, though. I stood there comparing that bitch Martha Stewart's very nice wreaths to Jaclyn's. I opted for the sparkly friend-of-Farrah's creation, here on my front door. Next to the mezuzah.

My cart overfloweth. This spree was a couple of weeks ago before the seasonal rush, but, I'm going back this week to purchase more gifts and stock up on sweaters. You know when you realize that your sweaters are older than some of your co-workers are?  And they're all pilly and faded? Time to buy new sweaters.

Disclosure: No,I was not asked to do a review, I was not compensated in any way. Just my usual mode of operations here.

Annual Christmas Letter

Oh, the annual Christmas letter.  How I love these.  

Everyone thinks you deserve to know how great everything has been for them in 2009. Even the people who have lost their jobs put positive spins on their predicaments.

Alright. I'll give it a shot. Here's my letter for 2009.

Dear Friends and Internets,

2009 was a monumental year. Yeah, right. The end of a decade.  Actually, I just realized recently that it was the end of the decade. It really seems like only yesterday that Salty D. and I decided to spend New Year's Eve 1999 in our brand new old home, with just some champagne wishes and caviar dreams, instead of traveling to our friends' annual new year's eve party. Because of my Y2K paranoia. Maybe the reason it seems like just yesterday is because I often drive by the same sign that says, "Y2K firewood 4 sale." The

Gosh, I wish I could figure out that typepad ad thingie. that box annoys me and I just want to get PAID. (ha ha)