I Can't Complain

Kindergarten Fashion Report: The Final Chapter

That sounds ominously like a fourth or fifth sequel in a started-out-great-but-never-should-have-made-more-than-two slasher movie series, doesn't it?  :cue creepy music:  <scary sounding voice-over announcer> Just when you thought it was safe.... THEY'RE BACK! And more talkative than EVER BEFORE! :screams: It's... KINDERGARTEN READING TIME...IME...IME....

So today was my last Thursday reading time for the year.  Anyone who knows me knows that I don't adjust well to change, so I'm really feeling sad, but I'm trying to hold it together until next Thursday, when they have their graduation. Which seems a little silly to cry over, since he's literally just going next door (unlike last year's), but no one's ever accused me of being rational about this stuff. 

Anyway, I wouldn't normally have blogged this outfit - it's a little uninspired and badly needs some better accessories, but in honor of my last day of kindergarten reading, here it is:

The dress is brand-spanking-new, from Mod Cloth, one of my favorite sources for fun clothes.  This was out of stock forEVER, but it finally came back in last week and I pounced on it.  The shoes are oldies but goodies from Zappos, and the jewelry is just your basic floating pearl necklace and pearl earrings.  I love the retro vibe of this dress but it really needs something like a bright yellow belt, yellow shoes and some snazzy jewelry.

Here's how I look in it:

Once again, no legs, no feet and no cat box.  But the potted plant made another guest appearance.  (Which means it'll be the first to go when the slashing gets started...) Also, the junior fashionistas apparently did not share my opinion of this outfit as a little ho-hum.  I got a BUNCH of compliments, including a little competition between two of them: "Mrs. Bomber's Mom, I like your dress!" "Well, I like your dress AND your shoes!"  I love those kids...  I also got a big group hug at the end, which pretty much made my entire week. Possibly my month.

So that's it for the kindergarten fashion report.  This time next week, I won't have a kindergartner anymore - he and his classmates will be rising first graders!  Look out Mrs. S, here they come!

Kindergarten Fashion Report

I guess it's not technically a kindergarten fashion report, since the actual kindergartners were all wearing pretty much the same thing  - plaid jumpers or blue shorts with white shirts.  They did all look awfully cute, though. 

Anyway, today was my weekly reading day in K5, so I naturally wore a new outfit in hopes of impressing a roomful of five- and six-year-olds.  I realize this is bordering on pathetic, but a girl's gotta take whatever compliments she can get, you know?  And hey, it worked - when I came in I got a BIG chorus of "Mrs. Bomber's Mommy, I LOVE your shoes!" And "Mrs. Husband's Last Name, you look pretty!" 

(Almost no one there calls me by my actual last name, which I find slightly hilarious - yesterday when I was there helping out with Mother's Day cake decorating one of the Bomber's teachers announced to her class that they needed to all pay attention and go up when Mrs....um... when H-bomb's mother calls them.  It's not that she (and everyone else) doesn't know my last name, but it's such a mouthful, especially in comparison to the Bomber's last name, that no one wants to attempt it. I'm not complaining, it just makes me laugh.)

So, today's outfit was a big hit:

The tunic sweeater is from Boden. It is so super-comfortable, I want to wear it every day. I'd buy it in every color if it came in anything else besides tan and grey. The leggings are just leggings - from Delia's or Target or some other source of generic leggings. 

The shoes are Annie, and I found them when I decided I needed lime green shoes and Googled "lime green flats".   I knew that some day all those skills I've been honing doing legal research for the last 8 years would come in handy.  "Lime green flats" to find lime green flats - that's why they pay me the big money, folks.  I got them from Amazon for an absolute song, too.

Scarf and belt are both old pieces in my wardrobe.  The scarf is from a Bass outlet and the belt is so old, I can't even remember where I got it.  It's surprising how much use I've gotten out of a lime green chain link belt. The bracelet I bought last summer at Broadway at the Beach in Myrtle Beach for like a dollar. I love it way more than a dollar's worth, though. It's really cheerful and summery. And I got a serious compliment on it from one of the little fashionistas today - she told me she wanted one like that for her mommy. :)

Here's how I look in all of this:

You can't see my shoes, and there's no cat box today, but you do get a bonus picture of the potted plant in my office lobby. Come to think of it, the potted plant coordinates nicely with my outfit, doesn't it? Or.... I coordinate nicely with the potted plant. Which doesn't sound nearly as fashionable.

Just a few more weeks of school, which means just a few more weeks of ego-stroking...er, I mean reading to the kindergartners.  That's probably a good thing, though - the stress of finding something exciting to wear every Thursday is really starting to get to me.

Oh, and happy Confederate Memorial Day to all you crazy kids who celebrate it.  I have to work, but I hope you'll print some money or secede from the union or something, for me.

What I'm Wearing: Thursday Edition

My friend Stylishboots did an impromptu What I'm Wearing today (which was, as always, quite stylish), so I thought I'd follow suit, and do one, too.  Here's what I've got on today:

Jacket, pants and blouse are all from NY & Company.  The jacket & the pants are actually exactly the same color, despite the difference in color in the pictures.  I really try not to buy outfits exactly as they're presented by a vendor, but this one really caught my eye, so I look a little like a NY & Co. mannequin. 

Shoes are from T.U.K - I actually bought them a few years ago, but didn't feel like I had anything to wear them with.  I found them again in February, emptying shoe boxes for Valentine's Day mailboxes and suddenly I'm wearing them with everything.  As an aside, I wore these to story time again today and got comments from the bookkeeper, all three teachers and two junior shoe fetishists, plus the one who didn't comment but did fiddle with the buckles while I read.

The jewelry is new - the neighborhood tour of historic homes was last weekend, and we hosted two lovely sisters who make their own jewelry on our porch as part of that. They gave me the jewelry as a gift for hosting them.  As soon as I saw the stripey earrings, I knew what I was going to wear them with. They were also a big hit with the kindergartners, by the way. 

I didn't take a picture of myself at home this morning, so I had to resort to  pervy bathroom pictures of myself this morning - I hope you all appreciate my sacrifice.  Actually, because a major water leak upstairs, I couldn't even take pervy bathroom pictures in the bathroom on my floor - I had to go someone else's floor.  Luckily, I didn't get busted this time.   Anyway, I take pretty poor photographs, and I photograph pretty poorly, so it should be no surprise that I take incredibly poor photographs of myself.  This is, no kidding, the best of the lot:

I tried a bunch without the flash, but the lighting was too low and my hand too unsteady to get a non-blurry photo, so this one will have to do. It's a good thing I have this law thing to fall back on, since my career in self-portraiture is obviously not going to pan out.

The Clothes-Eating Abyss of Doom

I think pretty much everyone is acquainted with this place - if you're the parent of a school child or have ever been a school child, you've experienced it, even if you didn't know it at the time.  It's the deep and mysterious place where children's school clothes go, never to be heard from again.  It's happened to all of us at one point or another - a sibilant whisper, a hint of dank air and the slight scent of brimstone, and the abyss claims a small cardigan or a defenseless pair of mittens... 

I know the abyss exists, because there's no other rational explanation for the disappearance of the Bomber's two (three if you count the one that escaped briefly and then was almost immediately dragged back in) logo sweatshirts and now his blue, polyester, totally-devoid-of-style, no-one-but-a-school-child-or-a-door-to-door-vacuum-salesmen-would-wear-it tie.  

I know the abyss exists, because before the school year started, when I came to the realization that the H-bomb would be wearing the same clothes as at least half the people in the school, every single day, I dutifully labeled all his clothing so that we would be assured of always getting his stuff back, yet things disappear without a trace.  And I didn't settle for his last name scribbled in Sharpie on the fabric content label. I know better - ink fades, the label frays and eventually the clothing achieves anonymity. Then separated from its owner, devoid of its identity, the abyss consumes it. Which is why I went to the trouble of getting fancy iron-on labels - 1.5" white circles with a colorful rocket ship and Bomber's full name in bold black font. Like this:

(His actually have his name, but I may well order these for next year - they'd be just as effective....)

And these aren't those wimpy iron-on label strips our mothers put on our camp clothes that started peeling off five minutes after they were ironed on.  These things are made of a space-age polymer that melds indelibly into the fabric and can never be removed. NASA uses these to patch holes in the space shuttle's exterior. If a nuclear bomb hit South Carolina, there'd be nothing left in the resulting crater, except 20 or so white vinyl circles with burned fabric residue around the edges, and my kid's name on them.  (And the palmetto bugs, of course.)

Anyway, given the trouble I went to to label the kid's clothes so if when he abandons them in some random place in his classroom, they'll still be returned to us, there can't be any explanation other than a dark clothes-eating abyss of doom for where they've gone. Can there?

Blatant Pandering

Last week there was very little action on the shoe fetishist front.  I switched days from Thursday to Friday, and when I got there they were all abuzz about their visit from some short, trap-busting, candy-pushing Irish guy.  The only way they'd have noticed my shoes if they were green satin boots with turned-up toes.  And I totally forgot to wear mine. What? YOU don't have leprechaun shoes in your closet?

Anyway, today, in what I like to think of as "playing to your audience"  (but is really most accurately described as an act of blatant pandering,) I made a point of wearing shoes I thought would appeal to your average five-to-six year old.  Specifically, these:

If you think those shoes are all kinds of awesome, you are in good company with a small gaggle of five year old girls, and one of their teachers.  (I can only assume the other teacher just didn't get a good look at them.)

The best part about these shoes is that while they're not new, I haven't worn them much, so it's like having a new pair of shoes. (In fact, I discovered them in a shoe box I was emptying out to use as a kindergartner's Valentine's Day card mailbox.  It's kind of appropriate that they used shoe boxes, don't you think? But I digress...)  Anyway, it's a good thing I dug these up because I gave up shopping for Lent  (I know, right?! I hope someone reading this is already working on my application for beatification....) so I can't just go out and buy something. 

Easter is only a few weeks away, though, and I've already started scoping out shoes to add to my kindergarten-approved collection. I wonder if these:

are too much for daytime wear?

 

 

 

 

Kindergartners Are Closet Shoe Fetishists

Since right after winter break, I've been going over to the Bomber's school once a week to read stories to his class.  It's absolutely one of my favorite parts of every week - I'm really enjoying getting to know his classmates and there's nothing like the rock star treatment a visiting parent gets from a group of five-year-olds to buoy your spirits.  But after going over there every week for the last two months, I've learned something else about small children that I never knew before: they dig shoes.

And really, this kind of makes sense.  They're all still pretty low to the ground, and for most of them, a grown-up's feet are a LOT closer than their heads.  And not only that, but no one's feet ever scolded them or told them to stop doing something they wanted to be doing. Heads? They do that stuff all the time. 

I have to admit, I didn't quite put it all together at first. The first day I went over to read, I thought all the scuffling to be in the front row, and touching me was just because of that whole five-year-old-rock-star treatment.  The next week, though, I went over there wearing these:

They're made from a sort of fuzzy microfiber.  Not quite faux suede, but fuzzy enough to have a little texture.  The kids sitting closest to my feet were FASCINATED by them. One of them rubbed them absent-mindedly the entire time I read, while another had to be restrained from putting his face on them.

The next week I wore these:

Not even remotely fuzzy, so I figured I was safe.  Instead, one little girl actually wrapped her arm around my leg and stroked the boot from ring to ring, stopping every few strokes to hook her finger in one of the rings and try to pull it off. The little boy from the previous week preferred the toes.

The following week was the booties again, and more fuzzy admiration. A pair of brown leather booties garnered virtually NO interest, but I suspect that had to do more with the fact that they were out of sorts from being stuck inside on a rainy day, than a critique of my footware.  At least, I hope so. I'd hate to think my favorite brown shoes didn't pass kindergarten muster.

Last week, I wore these:

The buckles were a HUGE hit. There was a discussion of whether they did, in fact, unbuckle, and then a plea to be allowed to unbuckle them. Then there was an examination of how one would go about unbuckling them, if one were ever given permission to do so. (Sadly, permission to unbuckle was never granted.)  There was also some admiration for the pleasing smoothness of the leather.  I must say, they ARE pretty nice boots.

Today it's supposed to hit 81F here, and I've had to admit to myself that boot season is probably over.  Instead I wore these:

As I walked through the door, the VERY first words I heard from the VERY first kindergartner that approached me were "I like your SHOES!"  The small thrill of happiness I got from that comment has actually started to worry me a little. I mean, what if, on some dark day, I wear a pair of shoes they DON'T LIKE?!?! WHAT will I do then? How will I handle the disappointment and embarrassment? 

Here I was worrying about whether they were enjoying the books I was reading, when it turns out the real concern was they approved of my footwear. I think I need to go home and take a serious look at my shoe collection before next week...

I Do Not Think That Means What You Think It Means

The Bomber learned to read awhile back, and is now reading like a demon, assuming there's some demon whose evil power is reading books about dinosaurs and Hot Wheels.  At first I thought this was an awesome idea, but like that whole walking & talking thing, it seemed better in theory than in practice.  All this reading has really put a crimp in our spelling things we don't want him to know, and it's made it hard to claim there's no hot dogs on a restaurant menu. But I digress...

The reason I mention the Bomber's reading skills is because while his are improving by leaps and bounds every day, it appears that mine have been seriously deterioriating.  What make me think that, you ask?  Well, there's this sign in the street right in front of my  house:

When they first put it up, I thought it read "Road Closed." I always understood those words to mean something like, "we don't want you to drive past this sign, because the road beyond is not meant to be used right now."  Also, that little orange sign?  I thought it read "Detour" which I always understood to mean "drive this way instead."

Apparently, though, I need to go back and take some kind of remedial reading course.  Because the rest of the world (or at least the rest of the people who drive down my street) are apparently reading these signs differently. If I'm correctly understanding the proper interpretation of these two signs, "Road Closed" actually means "drive around this sign, and the one at the other end of the street, too, because we know you're far too busy and important to go 60 seconds out of your way."  And that little orange sign? Apparently that means "and if you're going to be a sucker and turn that direction, you don't need to bother stopping at that pesky stop sign first."

Maybe I'll put up a little sign of my own. It'll read "Have a Nice Day!"  I assume all the people driving down my street will correctly understand that those words actually mean "I hope you break an axle in that big old hole, or at the very least get a traffic ticket."

What I'm Wearing Friday: July 15, 2011

What? Did you think I only dress up on Wednesdays?  Actually, I was inspired by my friend, Stylishboots, and her WIWW this week. She looked all pretty and summery in her white and yellow, so I decided to try a similar look, but with my signature lime green, instead:

The pants are capri length white twill from Jag, purchased from Amazon - I obviously have them rolled down, for work. The shoes are an old favorite - Bandolino Ibigail, via Zappos, purchased for my trip the DR a few years ago. The earrings are the diamond studs my darling husband bought me for our 10th anniversary, and the necklace is a chip necklace of amethyst, peridot and clear crystal that I bought for a song, from Silver Speck.  The shirt, which I didn't have a picture for, is from Banana Republic.  I wish you could see it better, but I also have a cute blue and lime green polka dot scarf in my hair, purchased on a whim from the Bass outlet. This is a huge departure for me - I'm not normally a headband kind of girl. I also have a white 3/4 sleeve sweater to put on in case the A/C gets out of control in my office.

Also, even my toes match today:

 

I Think That Wizard Kid Lives Up the Street

You know the one... he has that funny scar on his forehead....

I know what you're saying.... "Why would a British wizard be living in Columbia, South Carolina?  And if he did live in Columbia, why on earth would he live in YOUR crazy neighborhood?  And why I am I even reading this crazy blog?!"

But I KNOW it's true.  This morning when I was out running in the dark of night, in the inferno that is a Columbia summer, all of the street lights on the block went out simultaneously. Then a few minutes later, they came back on, one by one, as if someone had used a Deluminator on them. 

See....?  What else could it be? It's Occam's razor, folks... the presence of a British wizard living in the southeastern United States is clearly a far more simple explanation than a power brown-out (or running-in-the-heat-related demential)? Right?

I know, it's so cool. Try not to be envious, mkay?

On Five O'Clock in the Morning

This morning I got up and did something different - I ran. Without anyone even chasing me.  Okay, to be fair, I ran for 30 seconds, walked for 90 seconds, ran for 30 seconds, walked for 90 seconds until I'd been in motion for 20 minutes and circled the block half a dozen times.  Those of you who actually run for fun (though frankly,, right at this moment I'm having a hard time believing anyone finds this fun) may recognize this as the first week's intervals in a couch to 5K program. 

Honestly, I don't think I really qualify as "couch" material (but if I were, I'd be a nice chintz, I think).  I work out pretty regularly and rigorously, and my cardio health is quite good.  But I was getting a little bored with the same old, same old every morning, and a nagging shoulder injury has sort of sidelined me from my usual stuff, so I decided to give running a try.

Let me just say, I am so not a runner. I am possibly the least graceful person on the face of the earth.  I trip over lines painted on the sidewalk and have been known to fall over while standing still. And we won't count the number of times I've hit the corner of my desk, despite the two-and-a-half feet of clearance between it and the wall.

But this isn't about my running or my lack of grace. It's about 5:00 AM.  Now, I am no stranger to 5:00 AM - I get up most weekday mornings at 5:00 AM and work out.  In the comfort and safety of my living room. Five AM out in the mean streets of my 'hood is completely different. 

First off, it's dark. No, really...I mean, yes, it's always dark when I get up to work out, but in my living room, I have a lamp and a TV on. Oh sure, there's street lights, and an inordinate number of my neighbors leave their porch lights on all night, but still... it's nighttime. It's dark.

Also, apparently 5:15 AM is the time to run your automatic sprinklers in my neighborhood.  I didn't even realize so many of my neighbors HAD sprinklers. On the bright side, hearing that telltale sputtering, just before you get nailed with a shot of cold water certainly does get your adrenaline going.

And spider webs! Don't those damn spiders have anything better to do than build webs across the sidewalks in the middle of the night? Shouldn't they be asleep or something? Geez.

The sidewalk is also completely different in the middle of the night.  When you're walking along it on the way to the park, all those cracks and bumps are insignificant. When you're running in the dark while being pelted with water and fighting off giant spiders, they seem like Mt. Everest and the Grand Canyon.

Finally, and this has nothing whatsoever to do with the time of day, but I really need to get a better playlist if i'm going to keep doing this running thing. This morning I just set it to my 25 most played, and found myself running to selections from Whaddaya Think of That?  Which is a fine album, for sure, but not what I want to be running to at 5:00 in the morning.