Cognitive Dissonance

Last night at the Harry Teet (or, Harris Teeter... the grocery store... for those not from around here), I stood behind a man whose basket was loaded with organic produce (I listened as he explained to his line neighbor the benefits of organic and locally grown fruits and veggie-tables), protein shakes, Smart Water and more health-conscious choices.

When he approached the register, and Desiree began scanning his purchases, he asked her to give him two Marlboro Light hard packs. I stood there agog with mouth agape. How can someone who clearly makes food and beverage choices that support a healthy lifestyle choose to conversely pollute their bodies in such a way? My own personal disgust of smoking aside, does this man, and many others like him, not see the contradiction in those actions? Eat clean but fill lungs with tar? I don't know, maybe someone out there and clarify this strange phenomenon.

Thursday Theory

Most people would tell you that Friday is their favorite day of the week. And why not? It's the last workday before two days of weekend bliss; however, I always feel a huge rush of disappointment upon waking up on Friday only to realize that I must actually work the entire day to reach weekend-dom.

Enter Thursday... my solution to the favorite day of the week. I wake up on Thursday knowing full well that my week is not over but with the hope that the next day is Friday. No disappointment enters the scene, for although the weekend's in sight, it isn't yet painfully close. As it turns out, today is Thursday. The sun shining. It's going to be a good day.

Except for the fact that my coworkers are currently filling my boss' office with hundreds of birthday balloons. Guess who will be sent to a dark closet to pop each and every one? Oh yeah. That would be me. Similar to Buddy the Elf meets Jack in the Box. You know what I'm sayin'?

Gettin' Personal

'Cause you know, I really don't.

Looking back over this blog's year-plus lifespan, there have been few times that I get really personal. Ironically that is a very accurate microcosm of my life. With a large, dynamic personality I talk A LOT. And tell lots of anecdotes, but I only get to the true heart of the matter on occasion and with a select few. I prefer sharing funny observations, commentary and opinions without divulging all of myself.

I've noticed that in the 4 months since B and I broke up, this blog has suffered as I've become even more guarded about sharing the personal. There are several reasons for that, but I hate to see my dislike of vulnerability affect my ability to share with my readers. I've already done a question-answer post last year, to help break the guard down, if there's more about me you want to know (you know, more than what the lady on the treadmill beside me was wearing, eating, drinking, talking about, etc) just leave a comment, and I'll do my best to open myself up to answer!

Rule #35 - Rough Transition

I truly and fully believe that Transitions were created by a bitter, spiteful outcast optometrist whose obsession with turning unfortunate youths into his clones led him to the invention of these ever so unattractive spectacles. Transparent in darkness, yet shaded in the light, the poor lenses become confused in any sort of mid-light situation (including but not limited to homes, offices, schools and other venues of public activity) leading to a sort of don't-look-at-me haze of amber and lending itself to a pall of nerdiness cast over the near or far-sighted victim.

So remember, dear friends, when you are advised to seek sight-enhancing tools, just say no to any that will lead you to a rough transition.

Rule #34 - Fulfilled

If you start each and every day without fail noshing on a bar of protein, you may discover that manufacturers are beginning to diminish the size of said vittles in an effort to save costs. If your stomach is rebelling in an audible series of rumbles and moans, simply add a 20 oz. bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper to your breakfast routine. You will be unable to discern whether the 23-flavor carbonated refreshment is filling you up or simply bloating your tum-tum. Either way your belly's noisy tantrums will subside without additional calories added to the mix. Of course, your bladder will soon take over the chorus of discontent, but that's where a catheter comes in handy...

In. Ammered.

I am ridiculously in love with these watercolors from artist Charrow. I even ordered the peacock print for The Supermodel for Christmas (we have a smidge of an obsession with peacocks... rivaled only by my affinity for birdcages). These three illustrations are currently decorating my sewing space, and the colors, feeling and spirit is refreshing and inspiring. I think the girl in the birdcage skirt is my favorite... SOOO me and so Hems & Hers! I'm going to have to order a large version of it tres soon. Be sure to check out Charrow's Web site and Etsy store for more gorgeous pictures.

It's Perfection

Y'all, I am not particularly choosy when it comes to fashion. I'm not a stickler for name brands, designers or seasons (in fact, I tend to forgo designer for more unique looks... partially based on price point and budget, and partly because I don't want people to ID every garment in my ensemble). If I like it, I wear it. If it's inexpensive, I'll consider buying it. The one piece in my wardrobe that I am incredibly OCD about, though, is the long-sleeved t-shirt. Necessities include - thin enough to layer, but not sheer, sleeves that aren't too constricting or too loose around the wrist, and length that is long enough without being shapeless. Do you understand how difficult it is to find that perfect piece of jersey? Utterly impossible. Stepping in to save the day, however, has been none other than Target. Their long-sleeved tissue tee has become the joy and delight of my wardrobe. Not only do I wear one almost daily, but I laud them and sing their praises to everyone I encounter. In fact, The Supermodel has now made my proclamations of the perfection of the Target Tissue Tee into a joke. At least, until I went and purchased one for her. She has since silenced her mockery and is a devoted disciple. And for $9.99 you should be too.

And speaking of obsessed, The Supermodel passed along this gem of a blog yesterday, and I've been scrolling through it ever since. It is so inspiring, and this mother-daughter pair get my creative juices flowing with each post. And I basically want to be Lauren. If my eyes weren't already green, they would be by now from sheer envy.

Fizz & Frosting

I am feeling so torn between ecstatic and forlorn. My coworker (who is coincidentally one of my best and greatest friends), The Supermodel, is moving to New York. Why you ask? Well this beautiful all star is heading to work in Tiffany's corporate office. I am just pleased as punch for her, but I am so sad to be losing her in Charlotte. She is truly one of the sweetest and most fun people on the planet... not to mention one of the most stylish. To celebrate her incredibly exciting news, I held a surprise going away party for her on Saturday night with the theme Champagne & Cupcakes. I was thrilled with how the fete turned out, and I believe that Miss Supermodel was truly shocked. If any of you Manhattanites have some tips for her, please send them my way, or if you're willing to help out a displaced Southerner, let me know, and I'll get you two connected!

The spread included:
- Paula Deen's avocado chicken salad (divine) with mini pitas
- Honey teriyaki meatballs
- Buffalo chicken dip
- Corn and black bean dip
- Delicious cupcakes from SAS Cupcakes (in Blakeney, for you locals)
- And an assortment of bubbly (including my new favorite, almond-flavored champagne from Trader Joe's for a whopping $6 a bottle)

In between food and dessert prep I was able to whip up a fun skirt out of some nearly-forgotten-about fabric I scored at Mood way back in October when I was on my trip with The Supermodel. Although it's furniture fabric, I think I kept it from looking too sofa-y.

Whoa, Baby (Use Your John Stamos Voice)

Click over to the Hems & Hers blog for some exciting news that has definitely made my day a little brighter!

Decongested, and It Feels So Good

Y'all, life has been cuckoo bananas. For y'all too, I'm sure. Between a full-time job, a lovely little BOTS (biznass on the side), church volunteering Saturday nights and all day Sunday, maintaining friendships, fanning the flames on a budding and wonderful romance, being a good sister and daughter, life is just spinning faster than I can keep up with (and without the goodness of a swishy skirt to enjoy whilst spinning... you know what I mean). As a chronic-busier (one who is busy), I have developed quite the caffeine habit (it's not too bad, though. I can quit anyway time I want. I just don't want to right now). Clearly my body has built up a smidge of a resitance as it's taking me more and more of the cold carbonation (I despise coffee. Despise. So my caffeine comes in the form of diet soda ranging in flavor from lime to cherry to cherry vanilla). Imagine my surprise when falling ill a couple of weeks ago, I combined the seemingly innocent Sudafed Triple Action with my morning Diet Dr. Pepper and felt an incredible burst of energy that caffeine alone hasn't supplied me in years. Since then, each time I stop taking the decongestant, I'm back to the sniffly nastiness, so back on the OTC I go, and back to lots of pop, fizz and zeal. If this is what sick feels like, I don't want to be healthy.

Starlight, Sweetheart, Melody, Bright Eyes, Patch & Clover

Would you believe me if I told you that I have this theme song on my iPod, and that I crank it up when it comes on at the gym? Actually, I'm pretty sure you would. It never gets old. Neither does the video. Love these little ponies.

Unfortunately, YouTube won't let me embed it, but if you don't watch here, your day will be dark and gloomy. I promise.

Rule #33 - The Eyes Have It

If perhaps you opted to use high-octane, fully acidic facewash, it may be wise to heed the packaging's advice to avoid contact with eyes. If you insist of coating your lids anyway, be prepared to rock your shades all day. Scaly eyelids and bloodshot pupils are just not cute no matter how you slice it.

A beau who constantly reminds you that you're beautiful even in the midst of hot mess-ness helps too (yeah, I know, I just threw up in my mouth a little bit too).

Rule #32 - Doppelganging Up On You

Dear Facebook Friends,

Let's just take a second to be honest with ourselves. If we are pushing 300 lbs. and have a lazy eye, sandy blonde hair and long, shaggy layers are not enough to qualify you as a Jennifer Aniston lookalike. And just because you're brunette with prominent eyebrows, does not mean you are not a doppelganger for Camilla Belle or Anne Hathaway. Let's be real. Mmkay?

With lookalike love,
Polka Dots & Protein Bars

Guilt Clipping

I was hoping that the dawn of a new month would bring back my spark, but considering that it's the third day of the month and only my first post, that clearly hasn't been the case. Part of that has been dealing with the passing of my Aunt Adrienne. I just didn't feel right filling post after post with "rules" or silly sightings at the gym during her struggle. She was laid to rest yesterday afternoon, and I know that she's in peace in Heaven right now.

Now that I'm back in the game, it's only appropriate to share the guilt trip I'm taken on every few months. The culprit? The GROOMER. I take Sadie to have her split ends de-splitted, and her tresses refreshed every few months or so, and while she loves getting beautified, her mom hates it. Yep, I know that each trip through that bell-bedecked door will leave me feeling like a worthless and negligent pet owner.

Sadiekins is difficult to keep brushed, and, heck, sometimes I just don't do it. On the list of must-do's each day, "Brush the dog" often gets pushed somewhere deep into the "Ummm, riiiight, like that's going to happen" pile. ("Feed the dog;" "Cuddle the dog;" "Play with the dog;" and "Keep the dog alive," always stay atop the list, lest you animal activists come a-knocking.) But, without fail, I am given the major stink eye each time we enter the grooming salon as the groomer casts a wary eye across my poor pooch.

Even when she's just a touch shaggy, I am immediately reprimanded for the "SEVERE MATTING" covering her sweet, wiggly bod and lectured that cocker spaniels need to be groomed every 3-4 weeks. Um, newsflash for you, Groomer Bernice, that is NOT going to happen. For one thing, I don't get my own mane tamed nearly that often, and while my coif totals $22 per trip to maintain, Miz Sadiebugs rings up for about $55. Now, I know you don't have access to my bank accounts, but lemme just go ahead and let you know that I took the liberty of calling Dave Ramsey to ask permission to spend $55 per month on superficial pet expenses, and he replied with a heartfelt, "Hell to the nah." And I agree. Therefore, sweetums, let's just go ahead and get one thing straight, I will not bring Sadie to visit you any more often than I am currently. You will lay off punching one-way tickets to GuiltTown, and we will agree to be friends - as dander-covered as you may be.