Footloose.

{My quest to covet.}

I am leaving on a jet plane tomorrow for my sis-in-law's wedding (yay!) and I still have to complete packing myself. I did such a great job packing the three youngsters. And I approached my bag with gusto, imagining one of thse magazine spreads "make 12 outfits with these 3 pieces" type of thing. Let me just tell you: shopping clearance racks has it's drawbacks. My wardrobe is a mish mash of random colors, off prints, and once-hit-wonders that can be worked in with some basic jeans and T's... but all together makes a butt ugly assortment.

So instead I just wasted a full hour trying to find a pair of shoes I want. Dying to want a pair. Any pair. I found none. I went to my go-to brands. Of which I am not even gonna mention now, because apparently all the shoes that were cool 8 years ago when I was cool... aren't cool anymore. They're all old lady shoes. And not the cool old lady shoes.

I find these old lady shoes to be quite charming.

I am AGAHST.  Seriously, the best I can hope for are some shimmery Toms?!

Okay, let me show you what I think is just not cool, and you can tell me why I'm wrong.

1.

 Okay, the chunky clunky heel. The grosgrain bow. I just don't get it.

2.

Janet Wood made these look good with her coolots and some nylons. But it's not happening for me.

3.

 1995 called and she wants her shoes back. And that sweater with the thumb holes.


4.

If Arsenio Hall were a shoe. This would be it. 


Maybe it's me. I mean, I know I've really had some doozies. So I know current trends may be a lady I know not.


Friends. Foes. Anyone. Please help me. I need to want some shoes. And I need it real bad.

Pox.

{It was normal for you and me. But my kids are freaks.}

Now we've gone and done it. Gotten Chicken Pox. Elliette and  Emmett are covered in magenta spots that range from Pixie Dots to Transformer Spots to being terribly painful and no longer getting cute names.

Let it be known we were hoping that they'd contract chicken pox naturally. We were not hoping to expose approximately 50 children and babies to it the day before the first pox showed up. gulp. Worst. Feeling. Ever.

But the actual duration of the chicken pox was not nearly as frightening as some may think. The worst was that there was 1 night of fever and pretty bad discomfort - both kids complained that their spots felt like they were popping - but some advil helped them sleep.

Elliette tried to hide her pox with a beard crocheted of yarn.

We feigned a Red Wings tailgate party for Emmett. (Is it even hockey season?)

The bad news is... Mark has them, too. No 33 year old wants Chicken Pox. It's painful for me to see how painful it is for him. Just so awful.

(photo unavailable)

And then... the baby. Baby Blue kind of looks like her feathers got plucked.

You know.. in a way, it was kind of fun. Now it's over, so looking back it's easy to see the silver lining. I had my babies with me, it was quiet, calm. We watched movies, did crafts, made books, read a lot, baked. There were very hard moments, but it was mostly just due to being quarantined. I never realized the shade of red chicken pox rates the terror scale.

There were times I felt like a leper. I am immensely thankful for the Jesus-style love some friends showed by being there for me.

1.

{My bluebird flew into our nest one year ago.  Happy Birthday!}

Wow. A year already.

Our third wonderful baby... beautiful, perfect, lovely and divine.

Happy first birthday, Esmé Blue!

Sister.

{You can choose your friends, but not your family. And, in some cases, you can't even choose your friends, but fate does it for you.}

There is a period of time from my childhood that I remember more vividly than I can remember last month. From about age 5 to maybe 8 or so - perhaps I've glorified these years, entombed them in my memory as my salad days. I look at Elliette, who's now 5, and think back to 5-year-old me, and can so clearly remember my big ideas, my plans, my home, and my friends.

At that age, I met Jami. She lived across the street with her two sisters and brother. She was shuffled over to my house at the tender age of 3 to knock on my door and ask if I wanted to play. Being an only child, I relished a chance to play with someone other than Maggie, the devoted Beagle.

We played that day, and many more days, many more years, and now, here we are. 28 years later.
Today is Jami's 31st birthday. We are very different, in lifestyle, appearance, geographic location, and probably a whole lot more than I even know. But, she is my sister. The woman nearer to my heart than any other, at least of those with whom I do not share DNA. Her family is my family. I treasure her mother, I adore her sister, and I think back so very often to her extended family, and those with whom I don't even keep in touch.

She was my constant. Through divorces, break-ups, moves, marriages and the turbulence of high school and the there-after, Jami was always there. She was always laughing and making me laugh.

Happy Birthday, Kitten Eyes.

Home.

We did it.

We bought our first house! So, I think that has become my de facto hobby... making this house our home.

Skyline.

{Sweet & Spicy Sorta' Soupy Heaven}

I am proud to say I was born in and grew up in the grand Queen City: Cincinnati Ohio. It's a wonderful place.

I grew up with a lot of wonderies in Cincinnati. Indian Mounds, the Cincinnati Zoo, the field of Daffodils at the Krohn Conservatory, Kings Island... well those are the major players in my memory. There's actually a lot of really wonderful history in Cincinnati. But kids don't pay much attention to that stuff.

One thing the kid me did pay attention to was food. Enter: Skyline Chili. Skyline is the name of the restaurant which made Cincinnati-style Chili famous. (There's also Gold Star, but this cousin of the chili world doesn't get as much love. I don't know who came first, do you?) Named for the beautiful Skyline that befalls the city, it's a staple of Cincinnati culture. One of my first dates with Mark was eating ice cream across the Ohio River in Kentucky, admiring the lights, bridges, and architecture.

We love and miss Skyline.

Being across the country and being vegetarian poses two obstacles for us.  I've concurred them.

Originally our family would bring or send packets of "Cincinnati-Style Chili Mix". It tasted good but the corn syrup solids and BHT ended up leaving a salty coating in our mouths.

I decided to tackle it. Make it From Scratch. I'm not a big From Scratch cook. I mean, I cook a lot, and love to, but the term From Scratch conjures up images of long-simmered beefy stews, or croissants, or other things that require a lot of time, measuring, and planning. But this seemed do-able to me. I found a recipe and dove in.

Look at all the spice jars I had open! Allspice! Cinnamon! Paprika! Chili Powder!

It was so good. We used veggie-dogs to make a Coney.

It wasn't quite the same - at Skyline the hot dogs are miniature, as are the buns. But still great. Something about that finely shredded mild cheddar cheese + spicy sweet chili soaked into white spongy bread. Oh yum! My favorite is still the classic 3-Way. Spaghetti with chili and lots of cheese. And a side of oyster crackers.

And then... there's the Dip. This is how we usually introduce newbies to Skyline. It's portable, sits in your tummy like a flat tire, and is addictive.

Cream Cheese + Chili + Cheese

I'm not going to post the recipe I used, because It's not quite right. I need to experiment. There are lots out there, though. Here is one that looks reputable.

For the meat-eaters who want to try it in it's original glory, you can get it on Amazon.














Also, it should be noted, the last meat I did ever eat was a Chili Sandwich with my friend Brittany sometime in 1991. It was my last cheat. And totally worth it.

Mellow-Yellow.

{This yellow ain't so mellow.}

Okay, awhile ago, I lamented my situation with fashion. I used to have at least one foot in. I used to be on decent terms. We were friendly. And then.... I guess we had a falling out. It all started with that 55 pounds of "baby weight" (I like to tell myself it was baby weight, although my baby weighed in under 8 pounds.) Then the fluctuation thereafter. Two more babies. And then the budget. Strict budgets don't run in the same circle as fashion. At least, my Budget and my Fashion didn't seem to be getting along.

A few months ago I decided: Enough! This is nonsense. Of course my Budget and my Fashion can be friends. I know Budget well, we really like each other. But Fashion, on the other hand... we're just not seeing eye-to-eye. But, I knew eventually we'd all be getting along better.

My dear husband casually gave me a gift of cash he'd been hoarding for months, so that after Esmé was born and I was starting to feel like myself again (ha! Little did we know I have no idea who that is) I'd have some extra shopping money. Swoon.

So, I got some new digs. I do my hair 3.5 days a week. I am starting to look okay again, I start to think. I may be figuring this out.

And then. This.

I was walking the kids to school, glowing with my new confidence, day-dreaming about what I'd wear to the next Book Club or Girl's Night or Date Night (as that's the extent of my social life) when I just happened to look down.

Look at this. Look at how I left the house.

I took this myself with my phone, so I know you can't see exactly HOW AWFUL it is, so I'll expand. That neon striped shirt... yeah, it's a flowey, handkerchief hemmed tunic thing. And that cardigan, yep, I really did button it like that. Left the bottom all haggard just like that. I did. I left the house like that.

And then it got worse.

I looked down:

Uh-huh, another shade of yellow. Dirty running-shoe yellow. With sporty socks. And short old leggings.
Ugh. This is not the look I'm hoping for.

This is the look I'm going for. Late 1960's Parisian Librarian. Is that so hard??

Chris Benz

Chris Benz - now that's a yellow much more mellow!

Chanel

Chris Benz

Budget is bitching at me right now, I have to go soothe her.

P.S. Chris Benz is my current Fashion Dreamboat, can you tell?