I am a refined young lady!

2012-01-28T09:22:00.002-05:00

http://biblioklept.files.wordpress.com/2012/01/20120125-160347.jpg

Sign of the times?

2012-01-16T20:23:00.000-05:00

From Taschen's "All-American Ads of the 20s."

According to the latest numbers from the Wall Street Journal, inflation is easing and the economy is slowly ticking up. Isn't that nice to know?

Though I understand men and women with more financial know-how than me are the ones making these calls, I'm not so quick to agree. I've found the single biggest indicator of inflation and the country's over-all economic well being is the price of cotton undies at Victoria's Secret.

You see, I've been purchasing these panties regularly since the mid-to-late 1990s. They're comfy, classy, rarely bunch up or ride down, and perhaps most importantly of all, prettier than most other all-cotton underthings. They're also affordable: I'm pretty sure the cost for five of these adorable undies was a mere $19.95 for at least a decade. That changed in about 2008, when the economy really started to tank -- they shot up to five for $22.50, as I recall. This is also when I lost my job and my life turned topsy-turvy.

I think it's a sign.

I visited my nearest Vickie's today to peruse the remaining goods left in the Semi-Annual Sale, which sadly, ends tonight in stores. While I wasn't drawn to anything in the bins, I did find some new patterns in my beloved cotton boyshorts, so of course I grabbed a few. The price for five pairs of my favorite undies today? A whopping $26.50, up nearly 25 percent in just a few years.

According to inflation data from the Consumer Price Index, the cost of these undies only should have risen a few dollars to $22.08 -- less that 10 percent -- during this time. While one could easily argue the price increase has more to do with rising material costs than actual inflation, I'm not completely sure. I mean, hyperinflation grossly interferes with the normal workings of the economy. Not only will it limit our ability to supply goods or support free market, hyperinflation can lead to the abandonment of the use of the country's currency and social revolt!

I'm worried, you guys. In fact, as soon as the ground unfreezes from this harsh Missouri winter, I'll be burying my life savings in a mason jar in the back yard. Unless I spend it all on over-priced underthings first, of course.

You're fired!

2012-01-08T19:10:00.000-05:00

Santa brought me a Kindle Fire this year and I couldn't be more thrilled about it. It's actually a neat little gadget and I've become rather fond of my device's web browser and tablet-like capabilities. I mean, why would I want to play Words With Friends on my dinky iPhone now that I have this fancy Kindle Fire? And the fact that the pre-loaded Pulse.Me app lets me peruse my favorite news blogs AND the fluff in my Google reader makes me giddy.

I've only downloaded a handful of books to my new toy, but so far they've all been a treat to read. Apparently, there's a decent demand for self-published Kindle Singles and other short stories in the marketplace and freelancers like me have been able to make an extra buck or two this way. In fact, I've collected a number of self-published Kindle Singles on the subject! This is pretty exciting news to me -- perhaps I'll finally be able to realize my dream of producing my own cookbook (titles in my head right now include "Cooking With Booze by Laura" and "A Fat Girl's Guide to Staying That Way") or maybe I'll be able to compile a list of cheap wines that don't give me headaches for profit. The possibilities are endless! I'll let you know how that venture works out, provided I -- oh, you know -- find time to write a book.

My favorite Kindle book so far -- hands down -- is a delightful book of tips and tricks originally published in 1938, called "Better Than Beauty: A Guide to Charm." Despite being chock-full of old-timey advice about avoiding body odor (very un-charming!!) and how to buy hats, some of the advice offered by authors Helen Valentine and Alice Thompson is simply sage. Here are some gems:

* "If being on a diet makes you jumpy and irritable, it probably isn't worth your effort. Everyone prefers a few extra pounds to a shrewish disposition."

* The rule for choosing a hairstyle is simple: "Does it look like it would be pleasant to touch?"

* "The only bad manners are those which are unkind or which contribute to another person's discomfort."

Additionally, the {very charming} authors spend several chapters warning the reader to shy away from conversations involving complaints, what they ate at breakfast, how much sleep they lost, needless tangents and lists of pointless encyclopedic facts. Why? Because they are boring. What a wonderful thing to keep in mind in today's world of pointless, inane rambling blogs (much like this one!) and over-indulgent Twitter feeds.

The idea of being a refined young lady certainly appeals to me in many ways and perhaps, in my own way, this antiquated-yet-modern approach to charm is a way to express and celebrate femininity and define one interpretation of gender.

From now on, I am a charming, refined young lady.

Distractions.

2012-01-05T20:40:00.002-05:00

I've never been officially diagnosed, but I'm fairly certain I have a raging case of Adult ADHD. And by "a raging case," I mean I likely have the attention span of a spastic 4-year-old after consuming a pint of Red Bull and three dozen chocolate-covered espresso beans.

Case in point No. 1: On a recent trip to to my sweet Sunshine State home, I decided I needed a cup of coffee while waiting for an early-morning parade celebrating some silly BCS Bowl in fancy-schmancy Winter Park. I started walking down Park Avenue, dodging shiny new BMWs and late-model Volvos, in search of a Starbucks or a similar-yet-less-corporate watering hole. Instead of getting coffee, found myself browsing the clearance table at an over-priced boutique, in which I found the leopard-print headband below and an equally ridiculous sparkly, chunky bracelet I couldn't live without.

I made my way back to my party and their camp in the park, only to realize I'd forgotten to get my much-needed caffeine boost. Once again, I headed out down Park Avenue. This time, I found a darling (read: expensive) French-themed cafe, saw they had almond-filled croissants, ordered two, paid for them, and THEN ordered my latte. Oof.

Case in point No. 2: I spent about five hours this afternoon writing a 700-word piece on college accreditation. Or, more likely, I spent three hours on the article and two hours poking around the Internet. In fact, I managed to spend about a quarter of the money I will earn for writing the article before I even finished it! This dress and this cardigan will be arriving on my doorstep in three to five business days. Also, I kind of want this purse, but I kind of hate fake leather at the same time. Oh, and then I caught up on several days' worth of snarky GOMI posts. I had some snacks and painted my toenails, too. WHEEE!

Case in point No. 3: I spent approximately 15 minutes today looking for my keys before I realized they were in my jacket pocket. Sadly, this is not a single occurrence...

Case in point No. 4: My dresser drawers/closets/desk/appointment book/Google calendar/e-mail inbox/check register/medicine cabinet/fridge/laundry room/life are so disorganized I really have no clue which way is up when looking at any of them. Also, I really feel absolutely swamped when I think about trying to make sense of them. And I really like the color pink. Do you like dogs? My parent's poodle Milo is such a crazy little beastie. I don't know what I'll make for dinner tomorrow night. Or tonight, for that matter. Ugh, I really need to get on the treadmill. Have you downloaded any good albums lately? Aren't you sick of hearing Adele on the radio? I CAN'T TURN OFF MY BRAIN...

Happy holidays!

2011-12-24T20:44:00.004-05:00

Sir Francis Drake

2011-12-04T09:56:00.000-05:00

Even I've called Missouri home, sour, home for more than a year now, there's still a lot about the area and my city left unexplored.

Case in point: La Fiesta, a Mexican supermarket just a few blocks from my house.

I don't know a white girl from Indiana wound up with such a taste for Tex-Mex cuisine, but I swear, it's one of my favorite comfort foods. In fact, I'm pretty sure there are few problems that can't be solved over a plate of chiles relleno or a huge bowl of pozole. I mean, I think chorizo and queso could probably bring world peace. But I digress...

So, anyway, I recently discovered this darling little Mexican supermarket just a few blocks from my house. The inside was cramped, but a spicy sweetness lingered in the air. I browsed each aisle, examining goods with Spanish-language labels trying to figure out what I needed to purchase to meet the $10 minimum purchase required to use my debit card. A jar of salsa, two avocados, one lime and a liter of marinade for pollo later, I was only two-thirds there.

Then it found me: A refrigerated case humming in the back of the store, casting a glowing white light against the wall from its fluorescent bulbs. Each shelf was stocked with glass bottles, filled with caramel liquid and adorned with a red vinyl label.

MEXICAN COKE.

You see, one of the things I both love and hate about Coca-Cola’s impact on American culture is the sameness. Andy Warhol put it best:

“A Coke is a Coke and no amount of money can get you a better Coke than the one the bum on the corner is drinking. All the Cokes are the same and all the Cokes are good. Liz Taylor knows it, the president knows it, the bum knows it and you know it.”

Obviously Andy never tried Mexican Coke. Though the company asserts that its flagship beverage, despite being made with different sweeteners by different bottling partners all around the world, always tastes the same, I thoroughly disagree. Mexican Coke, made with cane sugar instead of corn syrup, isn’t as harsh. It tastes fresher, maybe because it comes in a glass bottle instead of plastic. Maybe it’s in my head. Who knows?

All I’m certain of is this: If you offer me a Coke from a fountain or can, I will politely decline. If the beverage is Hecho En Mexico, well, yes please. Don’t mind if I do.

I ain't mad at cha.

2011-12-02T17:23:00.000-05:00

I've gotten in the habit of e-mailing customer service departments little notes of appreciation when I've had positive experiences with a company or store.

You know, for karma and stuff.

I started it here and I've since kept it up. I sent Warby Parker a nice little note about how much I admire their business model after a super easy experience ordering awesome glasses online; I e-mailed Domino's about their revised and vastly improved chicken; and most recently, I shot a message out to the folks at Francesca's Collections.

aren't I sweet?

Almost every time I sent an e-mail of praise, my messages were met with a sweet response, thanking me for my kind words and business, except for Franny's. You see, I sent this message eight days ago and have yet to get a response. No "you're welcome." No "thanks for the note." Nothing. I'm not expecting much, just an acknowledgement that I did something I didn't have to because I was happy the company did an above-average job providing me with a service.

I honestly don't know why I'm so offended by the non-response. Usually I wouldn't care. I mean, it hasn't changed by shopping habits -- I've since ordered another two more dresses and a handful of Christmas gifts from this boutique.

So, anyway Franny, I ain't mad at cha. I just wish you'd write back.

The white whale.

2011-11-17T11:13:00.000-05:00

I started a new diet about five days ago. Story of my life, I know. I've lost and re-gained the same 35 pounds at least half a dozen times in the past few years, which is super depressing and probably really, really bad for me. AND every single time I start a new diet or fitness routine, I say "THIS IS GOING TO STICK" and it never does and I keep going down and up and up and down and getting completely frustrated and fed up with myself.

See, I KNOW how to be a healthy person. I've seen dietitians and trainers and read tons of nutrition and fitness books. I know that the way I have been eating the past few days is how I should eat majority of the time. Does that mean I have to prepare all my meals at home and panic over adding an extra teaspoon of olive oil or hate myself for grabbing an extra cookie? Probably not. Does that mean I can't find room for a huge mug of my favorite 250-calorie pumpkin hot cocoa on occasion? Again, probably not.

I know it’s about finding balance, and that’s something I seem to struggle with in every single facet of my life.

Anyway, every time I begin a new program or routine program, I just feel so uncomfortable. I start feeling sad and sorry for myself because I'm not eating my comfort foods in excess. You know, foods that ultimately make me sick and fat. Foods that make me feel sluggish. Foods I beat myself up for eating! Yet, turning to food for comfort probably my biggest vice (maybe after Diet Coke, but that’s another day). I know it will always be there, even if I won’t let sweet, carb-and-fat loaded goodness into my house. But what happens when I take it away and cut off access to it? I get cranky and depressed and I want to eat more.

However, since Sunday, I’ve felt happier. I’ve been more upbeat, I think. One of my coworkers even asked if I’d lost weight already – I haven’t yet, but maybe my better choices are making me seem lighter. That’s encouraging.

So maybe it will stick this time? I sure hope so. How do you find balance?

The more I think, the less I know

2011-11-05T15:13:00.000-04:00

Remember how a few months ago I posted about how thrilled I was about the return of Jane Pratt and the launch XOJane.com? And how I begged for a job?

A few weeks ago, I actually applied for an editorial job with the website. I even sent in my clips about jorjeggings, treggings and Rep. Aaron Schock’s abs.

I haven’t heard back, though. I guess that’s what you get for using the f word in a cover letter.

Apparently there is a fine line between edgy and, well, classless. Other things that, based on casual observation, apparently straddle this line include:

Rose wine
French manicures
Sheer clothing
Domestic beer

Women’s mag Cosmopolitan even has a monthly feature dedicated to identifying these things – ironically named Sexy vs. Skanky. Every month, Cosmo editors and writers identify celebrities caught on camera being sexy (toe cleavage, for example) and chides those captured being skanky (ass-crack cleavage).

A recent edition (October 2011, I think) featured the following:

“Sexy: Girl Power. Skanky: Slut-shaming.”

Isn’t calling a behavior “skanky” in the first place slut shaming? Le sigh, how contradictory.

Maybe I don't want to work for a women's magazine -- either print or online -- anyway. Sounds confusing.

Advice

2011-08-22T10:08:00.000-04:00

Here's something I learned after my most recent post:

Don't use the words "porn" or "whore" in a post unless you're prepared to sift through colorful content from spammers. Actually, it's probably a bad idea to use the word "whore" in any context.

2011-08-07T16:55:00.000-04:00

Clinton Kelly on French manicures:

"I think, however, that as soon as porno stars grab onto a trend and make it their own, that’s a time for respectable ladies to find a new trend. I honestly believe that: as soon as whores adopt a trend, move on. It’s dead."

I'm still thinking about asking for that when I get my bi-weekly manicure.

The Laura Letters, Part Trois

2011-08-04T23:06:00.000-04:00

Last time I shot off an e-mail to a retailer, I was sad. Today I e-mailed a retailer because I was happy. I like to know when I'm doing a good job, and I'm sure the folks who sold me this dress do, too.

Hi there,

I just wanted to let you know how pleased I am with my recent order from your shop! I ordered the Ebb and Flow dress, which was my first purchase from Spotted Moth. The dress was even more beautiful in person than in online (I knew I'd like it, but I didn't expect to LOVE it like I do!), and I appreciate the care taken to wrap and package the item so beautifully. I'm also thrilled with the quick shipping -- seems like I got confirmation that my dress was ready to ship moments after I ordered it on Sunday!

I've recently moved across the country, and one of the things I miss most about my old life is the great feeling of finding an unique item in a quaint boutique where the buyers really seem to "get" my sense of style. I feel like I've found that online with Spotted Moth and I'm sure this will be the first of many purchases.

A very happy customer,
Laura

With the kids.

2011-08-03T10:41:00.000-04:00

I haven't been able to update my blog lately because I've been recovering from a pygmy-goat attack. Or I've been busy. Or lazy. Take your pick.

The Laura Letters, Part Deux

2011-07-20T07:10:00.000-04:00

Here's the response I got from JewlMint customer service about my sad bracelet. I'm pleased with this outcome -- I definitely appreciate the good customer service seen here:

Hi Laura,

I'm so sorry to hear about your experience with your bracelet. Unfortunately, we have had some issues with that particular item tarnishing. I haven't heard anything in terms of that bracelet actually breaking, so I sincerely apologize for that.

Generally, we have customers return defective items to us, but please don't worry about doing so. There is no need :) As an apology, I have issued 1 JewelMint credit to your account which is valid for 1 year. It is good for 1 piece of jewelry.

We will definitely pass along your feedback. It is greatly appreciated. Please let me know if I can be of further assistance. Have a great day!

Best,
Noey

- Noey U 7/18/2011 10:06 AM

I guess I need to get moving...

2011-07-16T18:09:00.000-04:00

The Laura Letters

2011-07-15T22:56:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I get cranky and write letters. Nothing ever comes of it. But sometimes releasing the steam is good, you know? Anyway, here's one I sent to JewelMint customer service today about a sad bracelet:

Hello,

I made my first purchase from JewelMint on June 29. I was so excited to try out the new service, especially after hearing such rave reviews from friends and even celebrities! When I found an amazing coupon code that would let me make my first purchase at 50 percent off, I jumped at the chance! I ordered the darling and feminine "Forever Yours" bracelet. I was thrilled with it when I received it a few days later -- it was packaged beautifully. I wore it a couple of times times and received several compliments from friends and coworkers.

But then, after the third time I wore the bracelet, I noticed the "rose gold" section of the bracelet was becoming very tarnished and weathered looking, despite being stored in my jewelry box at home even with 3M's anti-tarnish strips. In my opinion, this ruined the bracelet. The fourth time I wore the bracelet, despite its weathered appearance, the silver strand of the bracelet simply broke off near where the ID tag is located. I don't know why the bracelet broke there -- I was simply wearing to work at my office job, not putting any stress on the chain.

Needless to say, I'm very disappointed in the quality and wear of this product. Had I paid full-price for the item, I would be even more upset.. I purchase a lot of costume jewelry and am very attentive to the way I care for it. I don't feel like I mishandled or mistreated the product in any way. In my opinion, $30 (or in this case, even $14.99) is a lot to pay for a piece of costume jewelry you are only able to wear a few times. I'm not expecting heirloom quality pieces here, I just want something I can have fun wearing more than four or five times.

I don't know if the product I received was a "lemon" or if the unusually-fast tarnishing of this bracelet was a fluke, but I'm sorely upset in the quality of the jewelry I received. As a consumer, what are my options in this situation? Am I eligible to return the product even though it is damaged?

I hope you'll take note of my situation and keep this incident in mind when choosing designs in the future -- I'm sure other customers would also be disappointed to receive poor-quality jewelry as I did here.

Thank you,

Laura I.

What do you do when you're unhappy with a service or quality? Sometimes I complain if I feel like I've really been wronged, other times I suck it up. Mostly I was in a bad mood today, and JewelMint got my wrath. But it would be pretty cool if I got a new bracelet out of the deal.

And for the record, I think this letter sums up my feelings about JewelMint. BUT, if you're interested, I love ShoeDazzle -- a similar retailer concept which offers a monthly selection of shoes of mediocre quality vs. jewelry of crappy quality. You know, sometimes a girl just has to shop. From personalized selections. Monthly.

Summer reading

2011-07-12T22:19:00.000-04:00

I was gently scolded by a librarian at work on Saturday.

For what, you might ask? Well, for reading a book I was supposed to be shelving. Twice. Thank goodness she didn't see the third incident.

Sometimes it's hard to put a book on a shelve without just peeking inside.

I'm not the bibliophile I once was. In fact, I can only name a handful of books I've read for pleasure in the past few months. I've been trying to work my way through Sara Gruen's "Water for Elephants" for weeks, but it's kind of dull and I've relegated it to treadmill reading (which is dull anyway.) I read Daniel Woodrell's Winter's Bone recently, only after seeing the film, but it was just as, if not more, depressing. I promised myself I'd reread a few of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries this summer after falling in love with the BBC miniseries Sherlock, but that's yet to happen. I brought a novel that piqued my interests home from work today at the library, but I can't even remember the title or author. I think it was a mystery. Who knows. Not me, that's for sure.

Have you read any good books lately?

Sweet land of Liberty...

2011-07-04T18:33:00.003-04:00

I just finished a brief story for my “fun” freelance gig detailing how a recent study shows that drivers with as little as .01 percent blood alcohol content are more than 4 times more likely than sober drivers to be involved in an accident with severe injuries.

Is it a bad thing that I poured myself a glass of wine almost immediately after submitting the piece?

I have absolutely no intentions of leaving the house again today, and even if I do, it’s highly unlikely that I’ll get behind the wheel of a car, so I think I’m in the clear. For now, anyway.

Today is the Fourth of July, and I spent most of my day celebrating my freedom and liberties by catching up on work, cleaning the bathroom and dusting the bookcases in the living room. And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. The past week has been completely nuts: Between software and job-duty shifts at the library, submitting end-of-the month invoices for freelance work, meeting last minute deadlines (the difference in Central vs. Pacific Standard Time has saved me a few too many times this in recent weeks) and breaking in new pumps on Friday, I’ve been a frazzled mess.

I’ve also been homesick for Florida like crazy. I haven’t felt a single grain of sand between my toes for far too long and the “tan from a can” I’ve been sporting all season is nothing like the natural glow and freckles I’d get this time of year in the Sunshine State. I think my homesickness peaked late this week when my charming 9-year-old bro left the following voice message for me:

Hi Laura, it’s me Jacob. I’m just calling to see if you had a nice day and to see if anything is new. Call me back soon. Miss you! Bye!

Adorable, right? Granted, I was unable to take his call because I was enjoying a Friday night Manicure-and-Margarita session with a new gal pal from work, which was much needed on all accounts. But still, le sigh. I’ll be home again in October, just a few short months away, and it can’t come soon enough.

Let freedom ring,

Laura

Friends forever.

2011-06-22T08:18:00.000-04:00

My 10-year high school reunion was held this past Saturday night at a bar in my hometown. Where was I on Saturday night? Curled up on my sofa 500 miles away from that hubbub watching a documentary about beavers.

Yes, beavers.

Is it just me, or does it seem to you like social media has kind of negated the need to such gatherings? Thanks to Facebook, we can simply skim over the formalities of such torturous events and still get the voyeuristic pleasures without subjecting ourselves to mindless small talk and second-tier catered food served from disposable aluminum chafing dishes. Through my use of these 21^st-century tools I can likely locate:

· Who got fat;
· Who got married;
· Who has kids;
· Who finally got their shit together;
· Who didn’t;

and other important morsels of knowledge within seconds. By doing so, I’ve essentially negated the need to attend! Also, I kind of hated high school and wasn’t too keen on reliving it for a night.

What do you think? Did you attend (or do you plan to attend) your high school reunions?

Sew sweet.

2011-06-13T09:24:00.001-04:00

Actually the title here is kind of a lie; you all know I can't sew. But in the past couple of weeks I have made a few mom skirts (read: mid-calf length and unflattering) into more stylish duds by bringing the hem up to just above my knees with Stitch Witchery and an iron set on wool setting.

Anyway, in lieu of an actual post (I'm still suffering from summer-heat induced crankiness), here's something I found via Pinterest and just might make its way to the bulletin board in the library's staff area. Just sayin'.

Source: kindovermatter.com via Chelsea on Pinterest

You're welcome.

Whether the weather...

2011-06-02T08:27:00.001-04:00

Today and tomorrow here is the Midwest:

Today and tomorrow in sunny Orlando:

I might have to spend my summer in Florida to escape the Missouri heat.

He-he-hello!

2011-05-26T09:13:00.000-04:00

I've been a library assistant for a little more than a month now and while I don't quite have Parker Posey's aplomb shown in the above film, I think I'm finding my grove.

For example, I now know divorce books are filed at 306.89; cookbooks are 641.5; and biographies are at 921. I can navigate to James Patterson's books in the fiction section with my eyes closed, and I'm quite savvy when in comes to searching the PAC while using Boolean operators.

Now, if only I could throw a party like Mary...

Not-so-plain Jane

2011-05-23T11:16:00.001-04:00

I'm pretty sure I want to be Jane Pratt when I grow up.

The saucy former-editor of Sassy and now-defunct Jane (R.I.P) magazines is back on the scene, this time with her new site, xojane.com. According to a report from the L.A. Times, the project's tagline is "where women go when they are being selfish, and where their selfishness is applauded," which is a message I can get behind.

I've always been influenced by Pratt's unapologetic tone and her funny-and-irreverent banter, which has undoubtedly left its mark among other other media outlets with the same intended audiences: Think The Frisky or even Jezebel. Contributors here write with the same snarky aplomb, the same cheeky tone, the same flippant views on pop culture. Pratt has even shaped by own style through her publications; I'd like to think she'd appreciate my Naked Therapist story or maybe my top-tier coverage of jorjeggings and Rep. Aaron Shock's abs.

Welcome back, Jane.

(Maybe you can hook a sista up with a job?)

Cocktails, please.

2011-05-17T19:31:00.000-04:00

Most of Sunday was spent in search of a cocktail dress. I found one, and it's OK, but mostly I feel like a NEED a cocktail to recover from that ordeal. Yes, I realize nearly three days have passed since then.

Why is it that when you don't really NEED anything, you find everything you didn't know you wanted, but when you're actually in search of a particular item, it's nowhere to be found? Does anyone else have this problem? It's like the retail version of Occam's razor. Or maybe Murphy's law. Or Hanlon's razor. Or my personal favorite, Sturgeon's law --which really applies to the situation at hand because I'm certain that more than 90 percent of the dresses I tried on were crap.

My eyes are fine, thank you.

2011-05-13T22:14:00.000-04:00

I wish I could say the recent issues other Blogger users have experienced during the past few days explains my lack of posts this week, but that would be a lie. And no one likes a liar.

Actually, this week has been dull. I've found, for the most part, I like dull.

Dull means I haven't been verbally harassed (well, aside from a catcall today -- more on this later ) on my way to work; I haven't suffered any emotional crises; and I haven't survived any natural disasters. However, dull also means I haven't indulged on any homemade confections; I haven't made any fun additions to my wardrobe; I haven't had any strokes of creative genius; and I haven't had any moments of self discovery.

Win some, lose some I guess.

Who's that lady?

2011-05-08T12:51:00.000-04:00


Lady Agnew -- John Singer Sargent

Sally at Already Pretty recently posed an interesting question: What is a lady?

She wrote:

"And there’s no doubt about it: I am NOT a lady.

Because in my mind, ladies are both aware of and concerned with social norms. They value manners, comportment, and appropriateness. They always send thank-you notes, know exactly when to transition from appetizers to dinner at parties, and have undergarments appropriate to every possible fashion situation. Ladies have been doing perfect winged eyeliner since age 10, carry small purses, and exude quiet elegance."

I think most people agree with Sal's interpretation of what constitutes a lady. And I think many women today, like Sal, aren't quick to call themselves as ladies either.

But, simply put, I think the notion of being a lady is just one way to interpret one's gender; and gender is just a social construct and a way we choose to label ourselves. Where as one's sex is distinctly male or female, gender is social, psychological and fluid. Gender isn't fixed; it's malleable and means different things to different individuals. Gender doesn't have an objective definition. For example, not every Christian has the same interpretation of god and the Bible; it varies greatly between denominations. Being a woman doesn't mean the same thing to every adult female; and what is womanly or ladylike certainly varies, too.

Think of androgynous Lady Gaga. Her gender bending is part of her appeal, yet she still calls herself "Lady." Perhaps this in tongue-in-cheek, as Lady Gaga is anything but prim or subdued -- traits often associated with what is considered ladylike.

For the record, like self-proclaimed non-lady Sal, I belch. I even fart. I drink beer and curse like a sailor at times. I don't feel confined by my gender; I'm not timid or meek; I follow my own standards of grooming and style, which often differ from what is considered prim or proper (ask me how often I was my hair or how long it's been since I last shaved my legs); Emily Post's theories don't dominate my manners, but I am polite out of respect and I'm not afraid to be rude or pushy when I feel I haven't been respected; I love to express my gratitude and I expect to be thanked when I do something for someone else. AND I AM STILL A LADY.

To me, and perhaps like Gaga, the idea of being a lady is my way of embracing my femininity and defining my interpretation of my gender. I see myself as a confident, self-respecting and refined young lady, and I expect those around me to treat me with the same esteem. My femininity or ladyness isn't a weakness; nor is it a strength. It's just a factor in what makes me ME, and I like me. A lot.

I'm pinterested in sharing this with you.

2011-05-07T10:13:00.001-04:00

I've fallen in love with Pinterest. It's a great way to keep inspiring images organized by category and an amazing place to find images for home ideas, outfits, food and everything else. I love it.

Because it's still in beta, you need an invite to join. I have a handful of invites to share. If you're interested in joining the pin-party, follow me via blogger or add me to your blogroll, then leave a comment with your e-mail address and I'll make sure to send one to you. Yes, an easy-to-come-by opportunity for a coveted Pinterest invite :-)

Friday night, no lights

2011-05-06T21:17:00.003-04:00

I just poured myself a glass of ~~champagne~~ cava, imported to Missouri from the giant Total Wine & More store on Colonial in Orlando. You see, I'm fighting a losing battle to a headache, and I need this nectar to nurse myself back to full health.

While I'm pretty sure cheap sparkling wine has caused more headaches than it's actually cured, I'm willing to take a chance.

Anyway...

One of my favorite things about my new job a la bibliotheque is it's close proximity to my home -- less than a mile away. That means I often commute to work a pied; sauntering along tree-lined brick streets through my city's historic -- albeit dilapidated -- downtown area. We've been blessed with gentle spring weather almost all week, so my walk has been a delight. Until today...

This morning I was running un peu bit late, so instead of having a leisurely le petit dejeuner in my kitchen's red breakfast nook, I ate on the run. Literally. I grabbed a napkin and a 90-calorie, sugar-free chocolate Vitatop and then headed out zee door.

I was devouring the last few bites of my muffin top just as I approached the slightly-sketchy portion of my walk; strolling past a pub and billiards hall likely frequented by my town's transient population. I noticed there were a few delicious, gooey chocolate chip morsels stuck to the cellophane shell that once contained my treat, so like any refined young lady would, I proceeded to scoop the remaining orts of velvety chocolate goodness out of the crevasses and corners of the wrapper with my tongue. Classy, I know.

That's when I realized I wasn't alone. The traffic buzzing by me had come to a halt as I was apparently making a spectacle of myself while lost in a chocolate muffin trance. I was suddenly snapped back to reality when a decades-old Chevy sedan with ridiculously over-sized hubcaps pulled up next to me and the driver shouted, "LICK IT GOOD, HONEY," laughed, then drove away.

How embarrassing.

I really don't have anything else to say about the incident, so I'm ending this here.

Thank you, Google Analytics

2011-05-05T21:34:00.000-04:00

Apparently four unique visitors came to this blog and stuck around for an average of three minutes after Googling "cool young lady."

Why, yes, I am a cool young lady. Thanks for noticing.

I guess it's hip to be a square.

Ballsy in the kitchen -- Cake balls!

2011-05-04T21:19:00.000-04:00

Photo from Starbucks' website -- I totally didn't take it.

If you've been to Starbucks during the past few months, you've likely treated yourself to one of the shops new "Petites." These bite-sized treats certainly satisfy a sweet tooth and they are delicious, but not exactly nutritious.

Here's the breakdown for the Birthday Cake Pop:

	% Daily Value*
Calories 170	Calories from Fat 80
Total Fat 9g	14%
Saturated Fat 5g	25%
Trans Fat 0g
Cholesterol 10mg	3%
Sodium 85mg	4%
Total Carbohydrate 22g	8%
Dietary Fiber 0g	0%
Sugars 18g
Protein <1g

That makes each two-bite cake pop five Weight Watchers Points Plus. For junk food perspective, other 5 PP foods include:

- One slice of thin-crust cheese pizza

- A fresco beef soft taco from Taco Bell

- A bacon cheeseburger from White Castle (I don't know why you'd want to eat this -- White Castle kind of grosses me out...)

- A 20 oz. Orange Julius (I haven't had one of these in years. Le sigh.)

So, really, if you look at it bite-by-bite, cake pops kinda aren't worth their caloric weight.

Thankfully I'm tricky in the kitchen, so I figured out a way to enjoy a similar treat that will only set you back two PP. I have two words for you, dear readers: CAKE BALLS!

Here's what you need to make 30 two-PP cake balls:

- 1/2 a Betty Crocker cake mix (I like yellow. I used to feel guilty about making cakes from a box. I've since gotten over that.)

- 1/3 cup of Betty Crocker Whipped frosting. (Ditto about the canned frosting guilt.)

- 1/2 cup of chocolate chips (I swear I'd follow a trail of chocolate chips off a bridge.)

- Sprinkles, if you're fancy

Here's what you do:

1. Make the cake. If you're following the directions on the box, just half everything it calls for. I made mine with no added fat; I used with three egg whites and 1/2 cup of water.

2. Bake the cake. I baked mine in a 9-inch round pan at 340 degrees for about 17 minutes.

3. When the cake is cooling, use two forks to shred it into little pieces of cake fluff.

4. When your cake fluff is cool, mix it with the frosting in a large bowl. I used a hand mixer on low for, like, 30 seconds.

5. Your cake fluff/frosting mixture should be the consistency of Play-Doh. And it will taste even better. Or at least less salty.

6. Roll the cake fluff dough into little balls.

7. Melt the chocolate. I did 1/4 cup at a time in the microwave.

8. Roll the little balls in the chocolate until they're covered.

8.5. Add a few sprinkles to the balls, if you're fancy.

9. Chill the balls for at least 20 minutes so the chocolate isn't gooey.

Cake craving cured! YAY! Mine aren't pink and they don't come on a stick, but they're still yummy and that's what really matters, right?

Mayday, mayday!

2011-05-01T18:49:00.001-04:00

Here's something that likely won't come as a surprise to anyone who knows me: I kinda suck at change.
And by "kinda suck" I mean "I am so painfully a creature of habit that I literally cannot handle it and kind of breakdown when presented with it."

Here's an example: Last weekend I painted my toenails with Sally Hansen Insta-Dri No. 140 Quick Sand instead of my usual No. 260 Sonic Bloom. I left in on for a day or two, but had to take it off after I looked down at my feet in peep-toe pumps, thought someone's else toes were sticking out of my shoes and then had a minor anxiety attack.

Another example: In my old life, I practically had an emotional crisis of epic proportion every Sunday, simply because I didn't have a Sunday routine and I literally did not know what to do with myself.

Both of the situations above were fairly simple to rectify: A few swipes of Sonic Bloom took care of the phantom foot problem in seconds (seriously, this is the best fast-dry nail polish I've ever used) and I've since established a Sunday schedule which keeps me sane.*

Needless to say, after spending this past week transitioning from freelancing full time to freelancing full time AND working a la bibliotheque (which I love so far), I'm EXHAUSTED. Not because I'm overwhelmed by my new schedule or because I can't find the time I need for myself, but because adding a new factor into my routine is a CHANGE (albeit a positive one) and I'm just really lousy at embracing new things.

Are you in a routine or do you like to change things up?

*For the record, now my Sundays go as follows: I wake up early-ish to do meal planning for the week and a supermarket run with the other heathens of the world while the godly folks are at church, then spend the afternoon catching up on work, blogging and watching TV, and finally I end my evening with America's Next Top Restaurant and Celebrity Apprentice (I swore I'd stop watching when Donald fired Gary Busey, but I'm hooked, so I can't. I CAN'T!)

Tuckered Out? Never!

2011-04-28T10:21:00.002-04:00

Have you ever added a piece to your wardrobe that has just made you absolutely giddy? Well, for me, that's this Tucker for Target dress:

I love the pinks and oranges. I love the button front and even the fuller sleeves. It's just so ME. And at a mere $40 bucks, who could say no to the perfect dressy casual piece? Not me, for sure.

The dress was originally available as Target (in this case, pronounced "Tar-jzhaaaay") last fall. I scoured at least half a dozen stores as far north as St. Louis and as far south as Jonesboro, Ark., searching out this dress in my size and it was always SOLD OUT.

Alas, I thought it just wasn't to be.

So, when Target announced it would re-release a number of GO International dresses this spring, I JUMPED on the opportunity to finally get my hands on this dress. Apparently, it sold out rather quickly, too, as I was unable to find a single dress on any store rack located along the banks of the mighty Mississippi River. THANKFULLY, Target.com stocked the dress and I was able to get one ON CLEARANCE last week.

OH THE JOY! I seriously squealed with delight when my fingers clicked the "add to cart" button, and I literally broke into song and dance when I saw the dress had safely arrived on my door step yesterday morning despite the flood of epic proportions wrecking havoc over my corner of the world.

There's one caveat: While other dresses from the designer collections at Target seem to run small-ish (esp. the Zac Posen line -- I remember the shame I felt after getting stuck in a 10 in an anonymous Target dressing room), this one apparently runs huge-ish. I bought a Large, and seriously, I might be better off with a Medium or even Small. Unbelted, this dress looks like a caftan. Thankfully the sash belt it came with can nip in the waist and other belts already in my closet offer other opportunities for figure flattery. I can always have it taken in, too.

I actually ended up wearing it to work yesterday with rose heels and silver jewelry. I felt like a doll and even garnered a handful of compliments from my new coworkers.

But, what really makes me happy about this dress is all the remixing options. I've told you, these style bloggers I ~~stalk~~ read on a daily basis really know how to work it and have seriously inspired me in so many ways. For example...

Jessica did this with it:

Source: whatiwore.tumblr.com via Laura on Pinterest

Why yes, I do happen to have a military-inspired jacket in my closet!

Tatiana made it a little funkier with vintage-inspired jewelry and yellow wedges:

Other ideas:

OOTD - 1-27-11 by SmoochB featuring dot jewelry

ootd: 01.01.2011 by

So happy I got this Tucker for Target dress! by mrsshoegal featuring balenciaga handbagsom/cgi/profile?.embedder=2430859&.mid=embed&id=1317712">prettycupcake featuring heel leather boots

Ahh, one dress, so many ideas. Life is good. How would YOU wear this?

She's crafty and she's just my type. (Statement necklace tutorial!)

2011-04-26T17:36:00.003-04:00

See that necklace? Isn't it gorgeous? It's Lanvin and it retails for approximately two months' rent at Bergdof Goodman. I love the femininity of the pearls and ribbon together. But, alas, I'm not really in a position to drop so much cash on an accessory right now. Le sigh.

So, as the recent rains have kept me mostly indoors, I decided to flex my creativity muscle (you know, my brain) to see if I could come up with something similar on my own using some pieces I already had. Keep in mind that as far as arts and crafts go, I'll I've ever really made is a mess, until I came up with this:

Not an exact replica, but not too shabby. Here's how I made it...

Step One: Gather your supplies.

I used a long strand of (faux) pearl and glass beads I've had for months. I snagged it on Piperlime for like $7, but I hadn't yet worn it. That made it a perfect piece to be temporarily re-purposed in my mind. I also used Antique White ribbon that I snagged in the Walmart craft section for a whopping 98 cents. Oh, and scissors.

Step Two: I looped the necklace around so it was doubled. Then, I cut a piece of ribbon approximately three feet long.

Step Three: Slide the ribbon underneath the doubled pearls. Then, tie the two ends together. Bonus points if yours is in a pretty bow.

Step Four: Pick up both pieces of ribbon and LA VOILA! You too are now a refined young lady with a lovely ribbon and pearl necklace and your {designer} wallet isn't empty! Look at you! Chic and smart!

I think I'm going to rework it with more ribbon (so I can tie a prettier bow) and triple the original necklace so it's pearlier and maybe a little shorter. I think I might like that better. Who knows. But I still think my first DIY venture was a success.

Stormy weather

2011-04-26T16:57:00.000-04:00

Epic storms have graced my little corner of the country. My small broken town has made national headlines. Thankfully I'm safe and dry.

AP via MSNBC

The above photo was taken yesterday only a few miles from my home. However, this is what it actually looks like outside where I am, as seen from my front porch:

Dry and mostly sunny. More rains are expected tonight, so I'm knocking on wood (or more accurately IKEA pressed wood laminate) that my neighborhood doesn't see the same tragedy other folks around here have.

I'm very grateful I've been spared from the natural disaster around me, but I'm so saddened by what's affected the people in my town. Seems like disaster is more likely to strike those who can't afford to lose anything, and here in a county where nearly one-in-four adults and one-in-three children live below the poverty line, this holds especially true. It breaks my heart to see the lowest-income areas the most washed out. Though I don't have a lot, I'll be sharing what I have with those who need it most.

How do you plead?

2011-04-24T12:35:00.002-04:00

The other day I had a conversation with a charming young man (names omitted to protect the innocent -- or in this case, guilty) about a conversation he had with a colleague about "guilty pleasures."

Apparently, the colleague recently opened a meeting by asking participants to break the ice by sharing a guilty pleasure. This fellow then made the following confession:

"I like to go to mall jewelry stores and pretend I'm there to buy emerald earrings just so the clerks show them to me so I can admire how beautiful the stones are."

Kinda strange, right?

The charming fellow made a sarcastic retort about how "over sharing information was apparently also a guilty pleasure" for his colleague. We both laughed, and that was that.

I started thinking about my own guilty pleasures:

- Spray on sunless tanner
- Glitter nail polish
- Chick lit -- The last book I read was Francine Pascals' Sweet Valley High Confidential.
- Tootsie Pops
- Diet Coke and Diet Cherry Coke
- Mochi ice cream
- Coupons
- TV shows lacking any intellectual stimulation whatsoever, a la Jersey Shore and Say Yes to the Dress
- The Eyeliners
-Outlet shopping
- My subscriptions to Cosmo and Marie Claire

... And the list could go on for miles.

But then I changed my mind.

You see, I was a closet smoker for maybe a year and half. I started during my last year in school and continued off and on through my first year of working. It was a bizarre habit to pick up -- I KNEW it was terrible for me, but somehow occasionally sneaking downstairs to stand outside my building to puff away on an ultralight cigarette with the other rebellious young souls who shared my secret felt good. We were united. I spent an entire semester sustained by only nicotine, coffee and Vodka Collins, and not surprisingly, I was at my lowest weight in years. My grades were also at their lowest, but I was never alone. It's strange to look back and think something as ugly as a tar-and-carcinogen-filled tube actually made me feel beautiful.

THAT was a guilty pleasure. I knew it was terrible for me, but still indulged. When I realized that my smoking had come out of the closet thanks to the near-constant stale smoke stench in my hair and that my indulgence was likely turning into an addiction, I got scared, and I quit. Just like that.

It's been four or five years since I've had my last puff, and I can honestly say I now find cigarette smoke absolutely repulsive, and even noxious. I feel disgusting thinking about the constant film I felt in my mouth as a smoker, and I'm actually sickened thinking about what I willing did to my body.

Maybe that's why I not ashamed of my current low-brow taste in television programming and reading material. In fact, it's something I like about myself. I like that I can simply switch between reading Anna Karenina and Johanna Edwards novels. I like that I can discuss Proust and Pauly D. with the same fervor. I like the way I glow after a spray tan, even if it left a orange cast on my feet and subtle streaks on my legs.

So, with that in mind, I can proudly say I don't have any guilty pleasures.

Well, at least not until I look like this:

What's your number?

2011-04-23T10:04:00.003-04:00

Spring Things by Laura Isaacs featuring printed scarves

Like many [refined] young ladies who came of age during the "material girl" era, one of my favorite pastimes is shopping. My favorite form of cardio is wriggling into dresses in fitting rooms and I firmly believe the best cool down is a brisk stroll through the mall while slurping a giant Diet Coke from the food court.

While this might or might not be healthy, it's the truth.

Yesterday, I hit TWO malls -- three if you count the ghost mall I discovered on accident! I needed some updates to my spring/summer wardrobe and a few new "professional pieces" for my new job (Oh, yeah, I was offered the position I interviewed for last week and I'll start Monday.) I also was armed with a fat stack of coupons from some of my favorite retailers (Banana Republic Factory Store, Victoria's Secret, Loft...) AND clearance sales seem to be in full swing, so it was perfect timing for this budget-conscious gal to give her closet a boost.

Though I'm not really a newbie in the professional realm anymore, I seem to have spent most of my early and even mid-20s baffling with a serious case of "I-don't-know-how-to-dress-itis." Transitioning from college life and the indie scene where Chucks and "ironic" tee shirts and ill-fitting denim and thrifted cardigans and visible tattoos were simply de rigueur into a full-time working girl was a serious, serious challenge for me. I just didn't feel like myself in suiting and pumps and other traditional adult garb. It was a costume. At that point in my life, I was not only dealing with major lifestyle transition, but also serious longitude transition. After spending my formative years in Indiana, I took my first grown-up job at a daily paper in sunny Florida. Not only was I baffled by dressing like an adult, I was also completely stupefied by climate control issues. Though it was a sweltering 95 degrees outside, it would be a frigid 65 degrees in my former employer's newsroom. It was tricky tricky tricky.

Now I'm back in the Midwest and my life has settled into a more mature routine, but I'm getting over a whole new set of challenges. I'm in my late-20s and I want to embrace adulthood, but I also don't want to dress like a "mom." Also tricky tricky tricky.

But, to my credit, I've slowly figured things out and I know how to buy clothes that feel like "me." I know that blazers and jackets can give an outfit a professional vibe. Tailored jeans in a uniform dark wash are both casual Friday and weekend staples. Dresses are a chic solution, as they help you look put together, are usually fairly simple to style and can be oh-so-comfy when they fit correctly. Belts can both define a waist and break-up a proportionately too-long torso. I've learned to avoid most trousers and button-down blouses; and when I buy them, I've learned that I need to alter them (I'm both petite and busty and I have a tum, so these pieces rarely fit off the rack). Soft cardigans can mostly solve the climate issue. Crew neck tops make it look like my boobs are just under my chin; modest scoop and v-necks just work better for me and can show off jewelry. Skirts slightly-above the knee don't make my gams look like stumps and are work-appropriate. Also, color is GOOD -- wearing only black and nuetrals can really suck the life out of an already semi bored young lady.

Another thing I've learned is that many of the sizes printed on clothing labels are COMPLETELY IRRELEVANT and practically arbitrary. Once I learned to get over those silly, stupid digits, I realized that I, too, could love my body and finally begin to embrace my curves, a task I've always struggled with and still do on occasion.

For example, here's proof that women's clothing sizes are completely wonky. Yesterday I the BR Factory Store, I walked out with a massive shopping bag containing:

- a darling navy cardigan, size Small, which I bought to coordinate with...
- a full blue and white skirt, size Medium, which I will also mix with a fun ...
- sunshine yellow cotton top, size Large.

I also took home:

- A striped wrap dress, size 10
- A black shirt dress, size 12
- Two casual cotton slub-knit tees (same shirt, different colors) in sizes Medium and Large.

Does any of that make sense to you? Like, I seriously bought tops in sizes Small, Medium AND Large from the SAME store? That's just silly to me. But that's life, and if you're set on only buying a certain size, you'll be sorely disappointed. It's a good idea to have a size in mind to give you a starting point, but be flexible. It's OK to go up and down to find something that fits your body correctly and makes you feel good. After all, isn't that what we want to do in our clothes?

Sucked in.

2011-04-21T10:56:00.004-04:00

The entire western world seems to be suffering from Royal Wedding fever. And I've got it bad.

Of course, like most young women born in the early 1980s, I had a girlhood crush on Prince William. He was handsome, athletic and above all, a prince. I grew up on Disney films, and I was convinced these attributes made him the perfect Prince Charming to my Cinderella. This crush continued throughout high school; during a trip to Paris my junior year, I made sure the tour group visited the tunnel where his mother, Princess Diana, was injured in the horrific crash a few years prior. As an adult, I occasionally managed to sneak blurbs and photos of Wills and his younger brother Harry into the newspaper I once worked for, in both entertainment (because of their celebrity) and news sections (because of their involvement in world affairs.)

Le sigh.

And after all this, am I jealous of Kate Middleton? Goodness no. She's a lovely young woman, which allows the fairy tale to continue in my mind. All reports describe her as a quiet, charming, almost-boring young lady who's middle-class upbringing seems to have somehow prepared her for royal life. Also, poor Wills seems to have inherited his father's expanding forehead... Yikes.

Their off-and-on relationships mimics real life; many couples in their early 20s struggle to find themselves while learning how to love their partner. All reports make the couple seem happy in love now, and I hope the fairly tale continues for years and years to come.

But I've learned one thing from watching their romance from afar: If my boyfriend ever asks me to go on a ski trip, I'm saying no. If he asks me to visit Kenya with him, well, that's a different story ;-)

Interview update

2011-04-19T19:51:00.003-04:00

Scene: Laura and the Interviewer are sitting at a conference table in a downtown building. Laura is dressed like a doll in a darling Banana Republic dress, conservative black pumps, a black beaded bracelet, Tiffany key necklace and super cute silver earrings. The interviewer is in stylish work-appropriate duds, and also in super cute silver earrings which Laura totally complimented. Is she a brown noser? Maybe.

Interviewer: So, let's say your working at a help counter. Three people are in line waiting for you, the phone is ringing and someone else needs help sending a fax. What would you do?

Laura: Well, I'd acknowledge the people in line, tell the person with the fax that I'd be with him/her in a moment, and then answer the ringing phone. I mean, that's assuming the faxer wasn't, like, faxing a kidney or something.

Interviewer: Hahaha.

End scene.

Faxing a kidney? Good one, Laura. Let's hope the interviewer thinks a sense of humor is good when dealing with the public, otherwise my verbal diarrhea made this job interview semi-awkward.

(Notice this post had two poop references? That's my classy sense of humor, people.)

Nervous energy.

2011-04-19T12:14:00.000-04:00

I have a job interview today.

I don't want to jinx myself by over sharing any info about it, but I'm thrilled about this opportunity to work with emerging media, which I love. I'm also thrilled about potentially having a motivator to get dressed every day. I"ll be able to continue my freelance work should this position come into fruition -- I've actually really enjoy writing these quick pop-culture pieces and the other work I've been doing.

Anyway, wish me luck!

Review -- Food:The Good Girl's Drug

2011-04-16T10:39:00.008-04:00

How to Stop Using Food to Control Your Feelings

I wish I could say the above book changed my life, but really, I think more accurately, the above book is my life. Part memoir and part self-help, Gold's new book challenges readers to really examine one of the most important relationships in their lives: Her relationship with food.

I've always had a weird relationship with food. At times, it's been my best friend. Other times, my worst enemy. I'm among a growing number of young women who have struggled with Binge Eating Disorder (BED) and emotional eating, and while I'd like to think I've overcome a lot, in the big picture I still have a way to go. This book helped me recognize where I've been and celebrate how I've grown, and helped indicate some areas where more growth is needed. I still struggle with body image issues at times and I can't eat "normally" without putting forth some kind of effort. Personally, I've found tracking not just what I've eaten but how I've felt when I ate it and what was going on in my world helps me manage my feelings and helps me make sure I'm eating to nourish my body, not my emotions.

Gold's book describes what disordered eating looks like, who it can affect (basically, everyone) and what factors can contribute to the disorder -- including genetics. Specifically, I found the chapter about building an "emotional tool box" very helpful and the stories shared by others in the boat were both empowering and inspiring.

Want to read it? I'll share my copy with you. Leave a comment with your e-mail address, and I'll be in touch soon.

White whale.

2011-04-16T09:49:00.005-04:00

I'm back on the sauce again.

The withdrawal headaches were killing me, so I decided that instead of giving up Diet Coke cold turkey I'd just slowly ween myself off.

Of course, right now, as I type this, I'm sipping a giant, 44-ounce Cherry Diet Coke with crushed ice from my local Sonic. Is it just me, or do drinks just taste better with crushed ice?

Anyway, yesterday I did something I'd never, ever thought I'd do in my adult life. I ordered a lawn mower. When I told my mother about this purchase, she actually laughed so hard she had to put the phone down for a moment. This is coming from the same woman who gives Diet Coke to an infant (see my most recent post), so I'm not sure how one should interpret her reaction. But, it is pretty funny. I've never actually done any kind of yard work, but I'm confident that mowing my own lawn this season will provide an outlet for some pent up energy and prevent me from any dealings with my weirdo neighbor who cut the lawn for me last spring and summer.(True story: This guy carries a gun when doing lawn work. He assured me he had a permit to do so; I didn't ask any further questions. I don't think my neighborhood is THAT bad...)

I mean, my lawn is really tiny. How hard could it be? And besides, it gives me a chance to wear the pink gardening gloves I bought last year when I started a potted herb garden.

In other news, my friend Angi, the woman behind Juniper Tree Yarn, made me a darling coral cowl that I can't wait to wear. Seriously, it's so soft and so pretty, and the light weight is perfect for spring breezes and chilly early summer nights. I think I'll style it simply with dark denim and white top to really let the color pop.

La voila:

Vice and Virtue, Part Deux

2011-04-13T09:46:00.002-04:00

I've been hooked as long as I can remember. Or, maybe even before I can remember.

According to my mother (who is also a huge fan of Diet Coke – it’s in my blood!), my first words weren’t “Mama” or “Papa,” but “little drink,” which I pronounced “deetle dink.”

As in, I wanted a little drink of the Diet Coke she treated herself to while Infant Laura was put down for her afternoon nap.

I love the way the soothing effervescent bubbles tickle my insides. It’s the perfect companion to almost all foods, from sushi to pizza and everything in between. The caffeine boost has kept me going through a variety of situations: miserable jobs, long car rides, movie marathons and more. I don’t even like regular sodas – they’re too sweet, too syrupy and not nearly as refreshing.

And now, I’m giving up the sauce.

Even with zero calories, diet sodas have been linked to a variety of health problems. Strokes, heart problems, metabolic disorders and fat accumulation around the waist can apparently all stem from drinking one of more diet sodas a day, according to reports.

Do I buy into the research? Maybe, maybe not. But at the peak of my addiction (oh, you know, last week), I was downing at least four 16-ounce cans a day. I believe in moderation, and I’m cutting back.

I’m proud to say I haven’t had a diet soda since I polished off the last can of Cherry Coke Zero hiding in my fridge on Monday morning. It has been more than 48 hours.

Wish me luck.

Do you drink soda? Why or why not?

Vice and Virtue

2011-04-12T16:52:00.004-04:00

Getting off the sauce is hard. I haven't had a Diet Coke in 36 hours, and my head is about to hit the desk. Yes, I'm dragging.

Someone get me an iced coffee, STAT!

Pants on fire.

2011-04-07T10:45:00.001-04:00

So, a few days ago I shared a charming post about my recent shenanigans in the kitchen, how much I've enjoyed cooking lately and how disappointed I am in the Southern Missouri restaurant options.

I am not-so-pleased to report I have since abandoned my post in the galley and have relied on the mediocre restaurants in my town for dinner every single night thus far this week.

I spent most of Monday thinking it was Tuesday. I saw an ad for new turkey burgers at Hardee’s, which prompted an epic craving for fast food, which I justified with the nice alliteration in “Turkey Burger Tuesday.” Umm… right. More on this later – keep reading.

I got my day-of-the-week bearings aligned on Tuesday. But I had a headache and didn’t want to cook dinner, so I ordered delivery from Dominos. I kind of respect Dominos – I mean, they totally acknowledged their pizza sucked, so they changed it. I like that kind of honesty. Anyway, a half a pasta bowl later, dinner was done.

Wednesday, there were some errands to do in the evening, so of course dinner at home was out of the question. I opted for a trip to the local steakhouse. Don’t worry – I had grilled shrimp and a baked sweet potato (no butter).

I’ve balanced out my dinners out with really healthy homemade lunches, so I guess it’s all been in moderation.

Moderation is kind of a struggle when it comes to dining out, especially when your options are somewhat limited.

Fast-food chain Hardee’s seems to try to be tapping in to that; the restaurant in my town started hawking “healthy” turkey burgers a couple weeks ago, marketed with Men’s Health “Eat this Not That” ploy and some girl in a bikini. Keep in mind this is the same establishment that peddles a 1,400 calorie Monster Burger (38 Weight Watchers Points Plus for anyone counting) and a 1,200 calorie Monster Breakfast sandwich (True story: I ate one of the breakfast sandwiches on a particularly rough hangover morning after attending an open bar event the previous evening ages ago – I remember it sitting like a rock in my gut for what felt like days.)

Monday, I opted for the Mushroom Swiss Turkey Burger and a small order of curly fries. Keep in mind this meal was more than 3/4ths of my daily Weight Watchers Points Plus allotment, so I’m not really sure how “healthy” it was. The sandwich weighed in at 13 Points Plus and the tiny carton of fries was a whopping 9 Points Plus.

It came served on a whole-grain bun, but also smothered in two slices of cheese and a thick mushroom gravy instead of actual ’shrooms. The meat was kind of dry – it’s hard to cook juicy turkey burgers, and my sandwich was lacking anything green (you know, like lettuce). It was tasty, but in my opinion, totally not worth its caloric weight.

But, the chain also offers a barbecue chicken sandwich (9 Points Plus); a roast beef sandwich (also 9 Points Plus); and several low-carb options served wrapped in lettuce instead of a bun. So, if you’re watching your waistline, there are a few better options on the menu.

I probably won’t be eating at Hardee’s again anytime soon. It’s just not in my nutritional agenda. And if I’m really jonsing for a burger, I’ll get one – just not the Monster version.

Barefoot in the kitchen...

2011-04-04T15:00:00.001-04:00

Since abandoning my former life in Sunny Florida and moving back to the Midwest, I’ve become a pioneer woman of sorts.

Though I crossed the might Mississippi in an imported car rather than a homemade covered wagon, on some level I relate to the resilience life on the frontier required. For example, the nearest MAC counter is more than 100 miles away from my home on the fringe of the Ozarks, so I’ve learned to make do with Cover Girl eyeliner.

I’m kidding. Well, kind of.

Anyway, one area my new-found frontier spirit has served me well is in the kitchen. I’ve always enjoyed eating and food (I’ve got the figure to prove it!), and I’ve found that in my old life, I definitely took my close proximity to top-tier restaurants for granted. Though my small, broken city has a formidable assortment of fast food chains, three Mexican restaurants and a handful of Chinese buffets, simply put, none of them compare to the food served at my former haunts. I’ve given the food here a chance, I swear, but I just haven’t found anything that’s really pleased me. Most nights I would rather eat in than go out, it seems.

Maybe I’m too picky.

I’ve started cooking more. I’ve been trying new recipes, experimenting with different flavors; all while baking, broiling and braising up a storm. There have been a few hits and probably even more misses, but for the most part, I’ve had fun with it.

Sometimes when I’m cooking, I pretend I’m hosting a culinary show and narrate each step in what I’m doing. I think it started with me just reading recipes out loud, but has progressed into a self-involved conversation and mock broadcast. In my mind, I’m like a junior Rachael Ray with a less gravelly voice, putting my own spin on comfort food and other classics.

This weekend I took my pretend career as a celebrity chef a step further.

A la “Chopped” or “Top Chef,” I worked a secret ingredient into my home-made meals: Pineapple. Seriously, who knew how diverse the tropical fruit could be?

Grilled pineapple and chicken quesadillas. Mashed sweet potatoes with crushed pineapple. Pineapple and cream cheese stuffed French toast. I didn’t even really like pineapple until I started experimenting.

I guess life on the frontier isn’t so bad after all. But I still miss Emiliano’z and my favorite waiter Ulysses –that man could make a margarita.

Flexing my influence over Confluence...

2011-03-30T12:15:00.001-04:00

I recently stumbled on an opportunity to score a writing contest held at a local community college.

While I was honored to be selected for this opportunity, I had no idea what I was in for when I accepted my role.

The entries were varied: Poems, essays and short stories. Though many of the entries were riddled with errors, the rawness of these pieces submitted by mostly unrefined writers was moving. Many of the pieces touched on facets painfully obvious in our broken Midwestern city. Themes of dilapidation, drug use, ruined lives and abuse ran through nearly every submitted work, and each writer, perhaps unknowingly in a few cases, shared some kind of personal tragedy. Though a few pieces were individually touching (and I gave them high marks for emotional resonance), as a whole, the entries gave a voice to the anonymous suffers in Southeast Missouri.

What to know how scary life really is in a county battling nearly double-digit unemployment where the per capita income hovers just above the poverty line? Judge a writing contest. Worked like a charm for me.

Women and Women First

2011-03-25T12:49:00.001-04:00

It smells like a wet dog outside today.

A huge, hairy, filthy wet dog.

Maybe I'm not ready to be a pet owner. Yuck.

Anyway, have you been watching the IFC series Portlandia?

I've watched every episode that has aired since my recent discovery of the show, and hands down, my favorite skits on the show are set in Women & Women First, a non-profit feminist bookstore run by two frumpy older ladies, representing first-wave feminists. In one sketch, a college student sporting short shorts and taking pole dancing fitness classes (second- or perhaps third-wave feminist) comes in seeking books for a women's studies class reading list, and the two first-wave employees refuse to help her. Of course, other hilarious hijinks ensue, but that's the gist of it.

I’ve seen this dichotomy and friction in literature and the media, but seeing it mocked like this really reflects the way society’s views have changed over the past few decades. Specifically, how the label of feminism has changed or maybe even gotten lost on the current generation.

It seems like in the past few years, other movements have taken over the realm once solely occupied by feminism. For example, feminists today fight for reproductive rights, health issues, seek a cure for breast and ovarian cancers, promote healthy lifestyles for women and girls and seek to empower young women by providing access to extracurricular activities in science and math – fields once overlooked and practically off limits to girls. These fights are a little bit different, but just as essential, as the things our mothers and grandmothers and older sisters fought for.

Is one movement “right” or one movement “wrong”? Nope. Should the movements support each other? Yes.

Feminism is as feminism does. It means different things to different people.

And in response to the practically age-old question: What does a feminist look like? Whatever she wants.

Not cool Mother Nature, not cool

2011-03-24T16:53:00.000-04:00

I miss a lot of things about living in Florida. World-class theme parks, white sandy beaches, outlet malls, restaurants, living closer to friends and family, outlet malls, the girl who cut my hair, near-constant sunshine and the list could go on.

One thing I didn’t realized I missed until today: Year-round sandal weather.

You see, Mother Nature is a fickle old broad, it seems. Here in my small, broken Midwestern city the mercury had been settled around 75 degrees all week. She was teasing me. I bared my legs in a darling shirtdress on Monday. I spent most of Tuesday in flip flops (I work from home – don’t judge). And I wore huaraches AND again bare legs to dinner on Wednesday (I was a little cold, but that’s not the point).

Spring had sprung, or so I thought. This morning I dropped $50 bucks on new sandals I didn’t need just so my toes could celebrate their newly-found freedom in style.

And then, immediately after my spring/summer shoe-buying binge (two pairs of unneeded clearance sandals count as a binge when your savings account looks like mine), I became aware of today’s drastic drop in temperature and have since been swaddled in my North Face fleece jacket and wool socks.

The forecast here shows highs in the 50s and 60s for the next ten days; hopefully day 11 will be warmer and more sandal-y. Or something.

Me and Ms. Danger

2011-03-23T12:37:00.000-04:00

I'll probably die wearing MAC's Lady Danger lipstick.

Not because it's actually dangerous, but because I love it.

Basically, it’s an attitude adjustment in a tube.

Seriously red lipstick (or red-orange in this case) takes serious confidence to pull off. And even when I’m feeling frumpy, I can count on Lady Danger to help me “fake it ‘til I make it.”

It works almost every time.

Apparently, I'm not alone in my love of red lips: Body Image Booster: Building Confidence & Being Bold

Good eatin' in the Land of Lincoln (Or, how I gained five pounds in one day)

2011-03-21T16:33:00.001-04:00

Springfield, Ill., is undoubtedly best-known for its connections to Abraham Lincoln.

For 17 years, Old Abe and Mary Todd called this small capital city home. Their cottage-turned-Greek-Rival-style home is just a few blocks away from the capitol building; the Lincoln-Herndon Law Office is here, but I don’t think they take cases anymore; and a massive museum and library complex takes up much of the city’s downtown area.

I learned quite a bit about our 16th president during the time I spent here. For example:

- Mary Todd Lincoln was a terrible decorator and I’m pretty sure her infamous migraines where caused by the god-awful wallpaper she chose to hang in her bedroom.

- Abe chose a great place it build his law practice. The office is across the street from the biggest Cold Stone Creamery I’ve ever seen and just a quick jaunt from Starbucks. Two Subway restaurants are within also within walking distance, so I’m sure this came in handy when cravings for five-dollar footlongs or white chocolate macadamia nut cookies hit.

- The Lincolns named their dog, a yellow retriever mix, Fido. I guess that’s why he’s been nicknamed Honest Abe and not Creative-dog-namer Abe.

While I enjoyed the Lincoln attractions, the best part –hands down – about my day spent in Springfield was the food.

Seriously. The capital of Illinois is also the capital of delicious, artery-clogging junk food.

Apparently, the horseshoe sandwich is something of a local tradition here. The sandwich is really a huge pile of toasted white bread, meat and French fries served drowning in a pool of cheese sauce. The Wall Street Journal has reported that a typical horseshoe weighs in with a hefty 1,900 calories. Thankfully, I opted for the smaller ponyshoe; it contained a mere 1,300 calories. However, I chose to wash mine down with a few pints of Harp (we were there on St. Patrick’s Day!), so perhaps that made up for the calorie deficit.

Springfield’s other culinary claim to fame comes from the Cozy Dog Drive In. Located on historic Route 66, this kitschy fast-food oasis asserts itself as the birthplace of the corndog. Fried, breaded and served on a stick, the corn dogs (I won’t lie – I ate two) here were impressive. Also, I was able to buy two plush hotdogs hugging for $10 and a postcard of the same for a mere fifty cents.

I probably comsumed nearly 3,000 calories in the 24 hours I spent in Springfield. That might be a personal record :-)

Good news is no news.

2011-03-11T12:43:00.001-05:00

Man, I just wrote a really lengthy and totally riviting post about how I've been feeling sorry for myself lately, and I seem to have deleted the whole friggin' thing on accident while trying to turn some lame hyphens used as bullets into the real deal.
I guess that's a good thing because:
a. No one likes a pity party;
and,
b. Srsly, no one likes a pity party.

Glad I got that off my chest.

Anyway, here are some other things going on in my world:

Apparently, people are are old (i.e. people who are approaching, but still a few years away from age 30) spend their Spring Breaks shopping for furniture. I really need a new desk/work area, so next week we're off to the Ikea store in Bolingbrook, Ill. Seven hours away, it's the Swedish retailer's closet outlet for me. I'm pretty sure this charming workstation will soon be mine. I'm sure we'll also snag some other necessaries AND fill our tummies with meatballs. IKEA ROADTRIP 2K11, DUDE.
Do you remember Land's End? As a little kid, seems like my mother bought me tons of fashions from the then-catalog based retailer. As an adult, I've found the styles to be a little um, not for me, (aren't they sold at Sears or K-Mart now? I don't really shop at either) but recently I discovered Land's End Canvas and that has totally changed my mind. My first experience with the new line arrived in the mail today, and well, I'm pretty sure I'll be living in this shirtdress all spring and summer.
Remember how I "discovered" that IFC series "Portlandia" a few days ago or last week or whenever that was? WELL, apparently we DO get IFC (it is nestled between the Fox and Lifetime movie channels) and the show is still on, but at really weird times. Needless to say, I've set the DVR to record all episodes.
While we're at it, the 90s are evidently alive on Netflix, as every single episode of My So-Called Life is available streaming. And yes, Jordan Catalano is just as dreamy and heartthrob-y as ever.

That's all I've got. What's up with you?

Thank you, Sal

2011-03-07T16:15:00.000-05:00

This is probably the most helpful thing I've gleaned from the Blogosphere in ages: Working from Home ... in Style

also:

2011-03-04T12:08:00.000-05:00

Did anyone watch this? I don't think we even get IFC, but I'm crossing my fingers for an upcoming DVD release. Or perhaps more appropriately, VHS release.

ouch.

2011-03-04T12:01:00.000-05:00

Spring has sprung. Spring fever. Spring is in the air. A spring in my step. Spring back. Spring chicken. Spring into action. Spring to attention. Spring to life ...

Get it?

Even though the Old Farmer's Almanac says the spring equinox is nearly two and a half weeks away, seems like the seasons are already changing. No, I haven't spied the first daffodil or crocus, but I'm pretty sure they've popped up somewhere.

How do I know the spring has settled in across southeast Missouri? Well, it's headache season.

I've suffered from occasional migraines as long as I can remember, even as a little girl. Typical triggers for me include stress and certain foods, both of which are easy enough to avoid. However, after living in Florida for several years, I guess I forgot that changing seasons and crazy Midwestern weather patterns also seem to whomp my cranium like a ton of bricks.

Though I'm no meteorologist, I know when a band of low pressure stretches over me or when high barometric pressure is pressing down on us. Fluctuations from one day to the next drive me batty, and seems like the worst times of year for rapidly changing weather are spring and fall.

Le sigh.

Though yesterday was a nightmare. I'm feeling mostly better today. I think. I've only been able to cross a few things off my mounting to-do list, but at least it doesn't feel like the 40-watt bulb in my office lamp is burning with the brightness of 10,000 suns or the light filtering in through my room-darkening shades is blinding me.

I guess there are some good things about the crazy barometer readings and clashing weather fronts in the atmosphere:

I can wear my favorite blue and pink raincoat today.
Straightening my wavy hair when it's raining is futile, so I guess I'm off the hook there.
I won't feel guilty about maybe taking a nap later. Rainy days are hands down the best napping days.

How's the weather where you are? And how are you feeling? Good? Great.

Wake up, wake up, it's the first of the month...

2011-03-01T11:35:00.000-05:00

Dreams are funny.

Last night, I had a dream in which someone I really don't like very much was moving into the house next door to mine. I did everything I could to stop this from happening, even though everyone was telling me to just get over it and let it happen. Finally, on moving day, I was finally so distraught by my new neighbor that I spent the next several hours/days/years (how do you measure time in dreams) hiding in the coat closer in my home's foyer.

I guess even dream Laura is passive aggressive and selfish...

Everyone loves a parade...

2011-02-23T13:11:00.001-05:00

I've spent a couple of the past few days combing Disney theme parks with my eight-year-old brother and a few members of his tribe of friends. If you're the kind of person who like being in a semi-enclosed area with thousands of screaming children and strange adults celebrating a huge rodent while hot sub-tropical sun beats down and sears your delicate flesh, you'd think it was a great time. However, a. I am not the kind of person who thinks this is fun; and b. I'm not sure these people exist.

Thankfully, I was able to mostly enjoy myself. I spent a day at Disney's Epcot and a day at Animal Kingdom. Epcot was an interesting treat: I took a trip around the world AND saw my future over the span of just a few hours. My future seemed pretty bright; looks like I'll be a dog owner around the time the flying car is invented. I also ate some sushi in Japan, bonded over mutual appreciation of both Hello Kitty and Monchichi with an adorable five-year-old girl who told me, "We're just like twins, only I'm faster," before she bolted off into the crowd.

Animal Kingdom was a bit stranger. While I enjoyed my trips through Africa (including a wild safari through Kilimanjaro) and Asia (they have huge bats!), the crowd was impossible. I swear parents these days don't treat strollers as vehicles for transporting children, rather they view them as mobile weapons of crowd destruction. I believe I was struck at least three times by these crowd parting devices, and that's just before lunch! Other highlights from my day at Animal Kingdom included being informed that I look "like a stink bug" by my brother while wearing 3-D glasses and confections sold via Minnie's Bake Shop.

I'm eager to enjoy a few more days visiting my family their home-sweet-home in sunny Florida. I'll keep you posted.

Working girl...

2011-02-16T15:22:00.003-05:00

When I announced to the world that I was going to dedicate myself exclusively to my freelance work, my friends and loved ones poured gallons and gallons of syrupy-sweet support and unsolicited advice my way. While I'm mostly appreciative of all of their thoughtful counsel, the most valuable morsel I received was this: Treat your freelance job like a "real" job. It took me awhile to figure out what this meant, but I'm pretty sure I've mastered it now.

Here are my top five tips for making a full-time freelance gig a reality on a near-daily basis:

1. Choose a time to begin your workday, then get to "work" at least 15 minutes later, just like you would at a regular office job. Bonus -- because you're working from home and all of your coworkers are virtual, you don't have to sneak in and offer any apologies for your tardiness. Not that I recommend saying you're sorry when you're late for work, anyway; doing so simply draws attention to the fact you we're supposed be there half an hour ago. If you don't draw attention to it, they won't notice it and they will likely think you were there on time. Which is a good thing, as bosses like it when you're punctual. But I digress...

2. Nutrition is vital. Make a pot of coffee. When it's done brewing, leave the spent coffee grounds in the filter. That's what people do in regular office settings. Bonus points if you forget about it and it grows mold.

2. Get dressed for work, in a slightly frumpier, more comfortable version of what you'd wear to a real job. If you stay in your pajamas all day, you'll want to take a nap. If you get too dolled up, you'll want to leave ~~the couch~~ your home office to show off your darling ensemble. Jeans, a lumpy cardigan, a tee-shirt or camisole, and fuzzy socks are good options.

3. Don't use Facebook during work hours. It's a fact: Bosses hate Facebook, and from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., you should, too. Don't even think about checking your MySpace page. Bosses hate that more than anything. (also, does anyone use MySpace anymore? I sure don't.)

4. Manage your time. Don't spend too much time reading other blogs, shopping (unless there's an awesome coupon code or sale or something), checking personal e-mail or gossiping on Twitter. If you accidentally spend too much time doing this stuff and get behind with your work, compensate for it like you would in a real office setting. Shuffle papers around. Heavy sigh as loud as you can. Make it seem like you're really busy and completely overwhelmed and stressed out with legitimate work. If this doesn't do the trick, blame technology. As I learned in a former job,crashed computers and server problems can really be crippling to your productivity.

5. Lunch is the most important meal of the day. It replenishes your body after the hours of hard work you've endured since breakfast and gives you fuel to keep going until dinner (or mid-afternoon snack time). Allow at least 30 minutes for lunch preparation, an hour for lunch consumption, and another 30 minutes for lunch mess cleanup.

Any questions? No? Good. NOW GET BACK TO WORK!

déjà vu

2011-02-14T11:01:00.000-05:00

I'd like to direct my gentle readers to a post dated May 22, 2009, in which I display my butchered, self-trimmed bangs. Seems like cutting my own hair has become a bi-annual event for me. As a result of my most recent bungled home haircut and following mall makeover (for damage control -- couldn’t get an appointment at a “real” salon) I've spent the past week shuttered inside my house. Granted, there have been other reasons behind my self-imposed hermit-ism, including Netflix surplus, inclement weather, and, well, lack of places to go, but I’m blaming my hair.

Here's a visual recap:

Then

Now

Looks familiar, eh?

A week with two Mondays

2011-02-08T11:10:00.000-05:00

I'm a little bummed out today. Why? I don't know for sure, but here two ideas:

1. At first glance, I think I'm going to owe a little on my taxes this year. Why can't Uncle Sam be more like Rich Uncle Pennybags? (Please don't answer this, I'm not interested in pausing my pity party to discuss politics.)

2. Yesterday's inclement weather seems really put a damper on my productivity. I mean, snow days were made to lay on the sofa and watch Netflix, right? (By the way -- this is a charming yarn involving two of my favorite characters.)

In other news, this weekend was lovely. Thursday, after my recent post about feeling frump-tastic, I took your advice and got dolled up. For a trip to Kroger. It's a start, I suppose. Friday was fairly dull and uneventful, aside from local utility work giving my home intermittent power all day. Saturday evening was spent with friends at a production of "The Comedy of Errors," which was nice, and then imbibing and playing table games at the local hangout.

What's going on in your world?

"We went from the dark night of spiritual slavery to unknown wandering-in search of the bluebird."

Out of style, out of touch

2011-02-03T16:10:00.000-05:00

I've recently stumbled upon a new nook here in the Blogosphere: Style bloggers. And man, can these girls work it. Many of these gals focus on styling pretty basic items you might already have in your closet, so their blogs are a great place to find outfit inspiration that won't leave you bummed out because a complete new wardrobe is out of the question this season. It's especially brilliant because these style-blogger gals I've "met" via their perfectly posed photos and accompanying prose are REAL women, with real bodies, real boyfriends and husbands, real jobs, real houses, real lives! They're not the dolls we see in fashion magazines; they can show how they've realistically tied an outfit together and give you tips on making it work for you, too.

Since I quit my day job (or maybe since my day job quit me ... more on this later) and decided to focus on my freelance career, I've really amped up the frump-factor when it comes to my clothing. My recent motto has been "comfort is king." I mean, what's the point of sucking into control top tights and teetering around in heels all day if you're shuttered in your home office and away from the world? While one could argue that maintaining a professional appearance can help maintain a productive mindset, it also feels like a huge waste of effort at least 90 percent of the time. I'm sure this is a problem a lot of freelancers run into, but I personally find it kind of depressing. I have three new dresses hanging in my closet I haven't even worn, two pairs of new boots I HAD to have this season who have yet to leave the house, new "dressier" jeans I've yet to wear and a handful of new tops I've only worn once or twice. Its not that I favor the sweatpants, busted denim and frumpy fleece I've been sporting, it's just that I feel so stuck in my "blah" routine and don't feel like I need to make an effort when the only coworkers I interact with are editors located more than 1,000 miles away.

But perhaps I need to make the effort for myself?

Maybe I'll let Kendi or Erin really inspire me and I'll start taking better care of myself when it comes to my duds. Or maybe I'll continue my jeans/sweater and leggings/tunic rotations. Let's hope for the first.

Are you a good witch or a bad witch?

2011-02-03T15:11:00.000-05:00

I spent my formative years in a small Indiana city of about 40,000, which served a busy hub for the mostly-rural counties surrounding it. Despite my close proximity to agricultural America, the only livestock my family ever owned was a miniature toy poodle and the closest I ever got to the fields of corn and soybeans flanking my hometown was watching them speed past me out the window of my parents’ sedan while en route to one of the many metropolitan areas my small hometown was nestled between. By the time I reached my early 20s, my small city boasted a formidable collection of casual dining restaurants, a few retail outlets and even its very own Starbucks.

Even with my non-involvement with the country life surrounding me, I felt a connection to it. Country folks seemed simpler and less involved than city folks. I admired their self-reliance, their commitment to the Earth and our dependence on their produce. But I also felt a strong connection to the thriving urban areas around me: I loved the cultural, dining, shopping and entertainment options available to me in the city.

So, really, as a little girl, I never came to any conclusions about whether I belonged in the city or in the country.

As an adult, I wanted to wash my hands of my wholesome Midwestern roots, so I packed my old Honda and moved to sunny Florida. I spent a few years enjoying the sunshine and the beach and the novelty of living in a state which thrived on only a half-century worth of urban sprawl and where the economy was defined by an over-sized mouse. Then through a chain of events catalyzed by a series of decisions — both good and bad — and through circumstance, I’ve somehow again found myself in America’s heartland.

And in spite of my familiarity with country life and my deep-Hoosier roots, I’ve been slapped in the face with middle-American culture shock since moving to Middle-of-Nowhere, Missouri, nearly a year ago.

So, here we go. I'm picking up the pieces of this old blog and moving forward with something new. Hopefully something a little more fun.

Long time.

2009-07-01T11:46:00.002-04:00

It's been almost three months since my last substantial post. Almost 90 days. Almost a quarter of a 2009 has passed since I last updated my blog. Wow.

And it seems like a lot has changed with me in those long 90 days. I've laughed, I'd cried, I've seen new things and shared new experiences and I haven't even bothered to relay all of the wonderful new things in my life to my adoring readers here in our little blogosphere. Please forgive me.

Big things have been going on with me, people. BIG THINGS.

And I can't wait to share them with you. Soon, I promise :-)

Yummiest yogurt ever.

2009-06-04T16:32:00.000-04:00

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Real, live mermaids!

2009-05-31T22:21:00.000-04:00

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Corey sent me flowers.

2009-05-27T17:45:00.000-04:00

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

ugh.

2009-05-22T14:08:00.000-04:00

When am I gonna realize cutting my own bangs is always a disaster?
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Proof I am an effin' princess!

2009-04-22T14:06:00.000-04:00

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

R.I.P. Jane

2009-04-05T11:47:00.003-04:00

Here's one of my favorite not-so-secret guilty pleasures: trashy magazines marketed toward young women.

Every month, my mailbox is flooded with the most recent editions of Glamour, Cosmo, Marie Claire, In Style and Lucky. And every month, I look forward to reading all the silly tips and tricks the editors and writers think will improve all of the important aspects of this naive 20-something's life; each issue is packed with advice about fixing my relationships, my wardrobe, my sex life, my makeup skills, my career, my body and soul, my self-esteem and the way I view the world.

I mean, just last night while I was sitting on my rattan sofa, in my pajamas, sipping cabernet, I was able to learn How to Lose 10 Pounds by Just Sleeping More, How to Save $250 This Month, 8 Really Good Sex Ideas and 359 Ways to Live Chic for Less thanks to stories advertised on the cover of March issue of Glamour mag.

Sadly, I already sleep the recommended 8 hours (sometimes more when I'm feeling lazy, which is pretty much every weekend), so I might have already lost those 10 pounds; I don't think buying the $765 Manolo Blahnik strappy sandals over the $995 Jimmy Choo strappy sandals really counts as a good deal or a way to save money; I think having sex with someone you care about in a safe, comfortable and healthy situation is pretty much always a really good idea; and OK, some of the ways to Live Chic for Less weren't completely useless (hosting clothing swaps, making your apartment feel posh and art-y with those cool wall sticker things, cooking at home instead of going out, bringing your own wine to restaurants without a permit to avoid paying markup, visiting mom and pop restaurants over big chains), but were pretty much obvious.

So maybe I didn't learn anything to improve my life. Damn. But by reading that trashy mag last night, I saw a lot of neat, reader-friendly alternative story forms for relaying information which I can use when laying out pages at work; I know that my attention as a reader was piqued by seeing so many numbers in teasers to stories, so I can use that when writing headlines at work; I have some ideas on what to do with the stuff I find when cleaning out my closest and I have an idea for what I want to do with that awkward empty space in my dining room; and my love for dining at little establishments like El Ranchito was only reinforced. And I was entertained and distracted from my own dull, boring life for an hour, so to me it was worth it. I can deal with the snarky comments my New Yorker reading friends make about my low-brow taste in publications.

And I have another stack of magazines to read, which I'm taking to the pool to read in my pink folding chaise lounge. Wish me luck.