A day for Moms, of all sorts

It's Mother's day guys! I'm not a mom but I have lots of ladies in my life who are. I also have my own mother [gasp! I wasn't formed from pure evil]. So this is for them.

My own mother, she's quite a mother. She doesn't quite always get my special brand of sarcastic love. When I try to steal her hair ties, I'm doing it because she has GORGEOUS hair, not to be a brat. She did a stellar job raising my sister and  me, which was no easy feat. She's been supportive with each and every ridiculous move I've made. I'm sure if I went to her saying I was moving to Bangladesh to follow an indigenous tribe she'd be supportive. Well, actually she'd remind me that I'll have crappy cell service and no access to Facebook and that I need to pack a separate suitcase of cleaning supplies. She may be a little crazy when it comes to things she loves and I can only assume that's why she drives me so crazy sometimes. However she did give me this lovely backhanded compliment the other day that proved to me that I am in fact her daughter, because it's totally something I would say; "You're looking so good these days! It's a shame you're so mean though." Seriously, I couldn't love her any more than I already do but after that I was just filled with delight. I am finally rubbing off on her.

My Mema, she's quite possibly the most amazing Grandmother in the history of Grandmothers. She is one of my best friends and while at times she drives me crazier than my mother I tend to deal with it a lot better. She's fierce. She's crafty. She's sassy. She's just the best. I understand that she nags me out of love [why can't my mother understand this when I nag her?!?] and that she wants whats best for me. I wouldn't trade going out to her house to to mundane tasks and catch up over a glass of wine or coffee for anything in the world. She let's me follow my dreams, no matter what. If I told her the same Bangladesh story, she'd be trying to get me a frequent flyer ticket before I could even hang up the phone. In case you're wondering, you should be rather jealous that she's not your Mema. Don't fret though, she'll be glad to have you over for dinner too.

The Moms who aren't yet mothers, you are amazing. You go through this day with a smile on your face and what I can only equate to a frown in your heart. These ladies want so badly to be mothers and have been told too many times to just relax and it will happen. For the sake of our future I hope it happens for you. You know who you are and you are some of the strongest ladies I know. You will be the best moms in the world one day. I truly believe that. 

Sunday Funday: I have to update my blog edition.

Oh what have I been doing? Not too much these days. Just like the hamster on the proverbial wheel. I've been dabbling in a few crafty project recently. One is hush hush and the other is my yet to be opened Etsy store, From the Shores. I've been gathering shells and decided to glue them to things! I'm a genius, I know. I'll link and post stuff once I get it up and going. I've got two unfinished boxes and one frame that I did actually finish. Now I'm trying to solicit my friends to rob the beaches of their pretty shells whenever they find themselves there. It's kept me pretty occupied for the past few hours so maybe it's something I'll stick with. I'm pretty excited for one box in particular but I. Need. More. Shells. dammit.


In other news, Rachel is due any day now. I'm still holding out hope on her giving birth to a puppy. She's most likely having a little human child though. His name will be Mr. Harper Avery [fancy pants] Heiser-Layton, or for short, Pants. I decided to call him Pants. Every child needs a wacky Aunt who calls him a wacky name and since I'm Rachel's only sister I decided to take that task very seriously. Rachel is not too pleased but she did call him Pants the other day so I'm slowly winning. This child will be awesome and famous and everyone will know him as Pants and he'll have me to thank [and pay] for that. I've also decided that he will be getting three things from me; his outlook on life [I trust his parents but I still think I should be the one in charge of this], his fashion sense [ I trust NO ONE ] and his bad habits. He shall be my little minion of evil and my sole source of amusement for many years to come. I plan on taking pictures of him just to embarrass him with later in life. I am already looking for baby sized aviators and skinny jeans. He needs a vest, every boy needs a vest, and a dapper hat. He will be a wee little hipster baby [anyone care to point me in the direction of a bottle that looks like a PBR can?] and I will make fun of him for it. I will start a meme from him. "Winnie the Pooh is too mainstream, I watch [insert some obscure European children show here]." I still have time to think of more. So get ready world, my sister is having a baby and I will have him looking down at you for your bad taste in music, books, fashion, food, and whatever else I can teach this kid, before you know it.

Define "style"

     A friend of mine asked me the other day: "So, what's your style?" I've been stewing over it for a day or two now. I have stylish aspirations, that's for sure. I can put an ensemble together for anyone given a decent closet and some accessories. I know what looks good on myself. I'm just not sure what MY style is exactly. I've always been a card carrying member of the "if it's clean, I'll wear it" club. I've also never really had a plethora of options [plus size shopping sucks but that's for another day]. Now I'm getting more options and I'm planning for the future [down 50 lbs but that's also for another day]. It's summer, in HELL Florida and, it's hot. So how does one go about defining their personal style when it's 110 outside and it's barely April?

     You find inspiration from the heat. You learn how to make shorts dressy. You buy every tank top you can get your hands on. You invest in a good strapless bra. You also chop off all your hair [true story, I just did]. So I'm looking around and I keep falling into the same thing. I'm in love with summer florals, denim, bright colors, 70's vibes and 60's flower child overtones. Hippie chic. [gahhh I loathe the word chic and I cringed both times I typed it but what the shit else works there?] Oh and platforms, of the Jeffrey Campbell variety. So let's see what I'm dreaming of.

Hurley shorts. Love them. I'm a firm believer that your pockets should not hang out of your pants.

Mod Cloth- How adorbs is this?!?

Billabong via Lulu's- I would live in this shirt. I already have an owl necklace that would look killer.

One Peach at a Time- Lulu's. I just love this color and length.

White tank- Top Shop. I love the detail on the front. It screams to be worn once I'm tan with some denim shorts and the J C's I'm posting in a second.

Jeffrey Campbell- Custard. Everything can't be 5 inches high and these are too cute.

Jeffrey Campbell- Ohara. These and that white tank top need to belong to me. NOW.

Jeffrey Campbell - Virgo Fab. I own these. Hello reason to buy a shit ton of shorts. 

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Sunday Funday: update edition

Today is PERFECT. I'm out on my balcony with my kittles and Adele playing in the background. I have a photo shoot today at 1 pm over in Avondale with the girls in the competition. I'm super excited. I have an adorable outfit to wear and I'm pretty sure that my hair will actually cooperate with me today.

I signed up for the MS Mud Run ! It's a 10k of muddy obstacle courses. I'm slightly terrified. Running isn't really my thing. I do it because  it's a quick means to an end. I have a great team of girls going at it with me so I'm sure it'll be fun. The training part isn't fun though. Running outside is a lot more difficult than the treadmill or elliptical. Luckily I've been taking my sister's adorable dog Pennylane with me. Running with a dog is way more fun than running alone.

Well that's about it for now. Gotta go get ready for this shoot!

Things that bother me, the corporate edition.

I have a wonderful job. I actually do. I do love my office and the people in it. This is not to say there aren't some things that drive me batshit crazy. I like lists, so without further ado:

1. Hang-ups. You called, my caller ID says you did. Yet after I get two words into my greeting you hang up. Why? Did my voice offend you? Were you hoping for someone else to answer? Well, I'm sorry, it's kinda my job to answer the phone so unless you catch me in the bathroom (which isn't hard to do, I go a lot)  you're gonna keep getting the same girl.
2. STAPLES. I fucking hate staples. I hate them with a passion most people reserve for arch rivals and people with opposing views on politics or sports. I understand they are necessary for keeping things together. This can in fact be achieved with just one damn staple. Some people however, feel the need for the added security of 76286 staples, to keep two (and not even important) pieces of paper together. 
3. My inability to use a highlighter. I'm seven years old, obviously. I come home on a daily basis looking like my hands got in a serious debate with a damn highlighter. I can't hold on to them, I can't use them properly and I'm sick of looking like I'm in kindergarten. 
4. Paper cuts. Do I even need to explain this one? They suck and HR will not accept this as a reason to go home or file a worker's comp claim.
5. Hang nails. Usually caused by excessive filing. See above for HR's opinion on the validity of a claim on this.

So there you have it. I know it's pointless bitching and it's really not even major. Like I said, I like my job and thankfully I don't have anything of importance to bitch about!  The fun times and lovely ladies in my office more than make up for the amount of staples I see on a daily basis.
 

Woeful Wednesday.

Well, it's Wednesday and that means I'm off to boot camp. I don't know what it is about paying someone to kick my ass that makes me feel better about myself. So I'm off to spend an hour doing push-ups, and mountain climbers, and fucking jumping-jacks. I get excited when we grab for the weights because that means I at least get to breathe. Then there's this progress nonsense, I mean I was perfectly content with the 3 lb weights, but now I feel the urge to go up to 5 lbs. I was happy with no risers under my step, now I have 2. Dammit man, why did I start setting goals and accomplishing them? It's simple really, it's all about payoff. I have two separate shopping trips lined up. One with Mrs. Brittany and one with Ms. Tiffany. I cannot freaking wait. I mean really, it all comes back to the fashion in the end. Especially the new shoes I'm coveting. They look painful. Apparently I am a masochist at heart.

What's in my head? British female edition.

Let's take a looksie shall we? I'm not gonna get all 16 year old sappy emo child on you but here are a few of my absolute favorites. (subject to change w/o notice!)




Adele- Chasing Pavements. I could write a book on my love for Adele. I listen to this every.single.day. I can often be found driving around town with my earbuds in (yes, I'm that girl) singing this loudly. Typically dedicated to every asshat I've ever wasted time on.

Kate Nash- Merry Happy. Another one for the asshats, but with a cheery beat! I just love this, unashamedly. It's more empowering than sad and boo-hooey. Plus Kate Nash fucking rocks.

Lily Allen- Fuck You. Well for starters I like saying "Fuck you" and I say it a lot. Secondly, this song is not about stupid boys. I love everything about this song. Really, do you enjoy being small minded? Thought not.

That's it for now. Having three British women up there was totally unplanned. Those were literally the first three songs that popped into my head.

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