This one's for the girls

To spare humanity the immense boredom that accompanies anything I might post about the goings-ons of my daily life, I usually try and avoid "So yesterday I..." and "Over the weekend..." posts. Because those would really only consist of how many diet cokes i drank and how I really need to do laundry and how I wish Christian Bale stalked me.

But THIS cannot be avoided. Because I can't hold my candle under a bushel any longer. I just had the potentially best shopping trip of my life on Saturday and I MUST share it.

Behold, Ventura. Known best for it's thrift stores.















I didn't take a picture of the thrift shops because, well, who wants a picture of a thrift shop? But you get the idea. Along with a navy pencil skirt and a purple pair of 99 cent heels, I also found these gems in the vintage section:



What you see so beautifully displayed here is a sequined skirt, perfect for saturday night fever and new years, and . . .

FUR! That's right - your's truly found a fur wrap for a few bucks! When I triumphantly displayed it at home later that afternoon, Mom asked "When are you EVER going to use that?" To which I excitedly replied, "Who cares! It's real fur!" So I put it on right then and there, and have been traipsing around with it on ever since.

Pretty good finds, huh? But wait! That isn't the last of it. I give you the crown jewel to my day full of bargains:





No friends, you're eyes don't deceive you. That is indeed a L.A.M.B purse. My first designer bag ever! In a rare fit of insanity I stopped at Nordstrom Rack on the way home, and there in the bag section was a pillar of light shining down upon the supple leather and plaid canvas and gold chains. My eyes never strayed from the glorious sight. I heard angels singing and harps strumming.

Id: I MUST have it!
Super Ego: NO! It is petty and vain and extravagant!
Id: So? Just think how good you'll look with it on your arm!
Super Ego: Are you kidding? It's a BAG.
Id: How very narrow minded of you - it is SO much more than a bag. Plus, it's plaid. AND HALF OFF!!
Super Ego: Remember that savings account - the one with the cobwebs and dust in it?
Id: But this might be our only chance to get a LAMB purse this cute and this cheap! Where is ego? He should be mediating this.
Ego: I'm here - just currently entranced by this find. Which is seemingly providential. Id, you win. Not through logic mind you, but mere excitement. Happy early Christmas.

So I snatched it and ran up to the cash register before super ego began to argue again. And the sweet cashier gasped and said, This is SO CUTE! To which I squealed and said, I KNOW! So we opened it and unsnapped and unzipped and oohed and aahed over all it's glory. And then she asked, Is it your first designer purse? Yes, I replied. And then she said, Welcome to the big girls club! I myself joined last year when I bought a Marc Jacobs purse! So I thanked her and sighed with envy over her MJ delight, until I looked at my newest purchase and jumped up and down a bit until people started whispering and pointing. I floated home on Cloud 9.

Oh, you want to see it again?


You can even take the strap off and use it as a clutch! Genius!

And that is the story of how I passed a new milestone in my life and now own a designer bag which I got at truly a GREAT deal at Nordstrom Rack. Who knew?!

tagged

Tagging is one of those things that I don't really love, but go along with it anyway because I DO love the people who tag me. so whatever. Apparently I have to show the 4th picture in my 4th album or some such business, but my pictures aren't organized that way, so I just closed my eyes and clicked on one. And this is what popped up:

Yes, they are related to me. Can't you tell by her sneer? It runs in the family. This is when we went to Cousin Whitney's wedding and had a major ordeal deciding which place we were going to eat at. The babies won, as usual, and their latest obsession was Quiznos. I had just gotten my new camera and was experimenting. So here we are, all of us squashed at one teeny table, and I took a candid whilst they were chowing down.

not asking too much here

Dear CW channel,

Look, I've got a lot on my plate right now. Job hunting, avoiding the mall, deciding which kind of salsa I want to eat tonight, etc etc, and so I just don't have TIME to deal with Gossip Girl right now. I've been thinking about it over the last few episodes and I've decided I reject the following:

1) Little J's hair. It is FOUL. The cut reminds me of a trashy-blond version of Linda from The Wedding Singer who accidentally sticks her head in the path of the weed whacker. Also, that cloud of eyeliner and black spiked choker. Really? Since when is it supposed to look like Jenny Humphrey waged a war with the trash in the San Fernando Valley and lost?

2) Aaron. I yawn just thinking about him. I feel like I'm being sucked into a black hole of boringness whenever he's on screen. His flannel shirts, greasy locks and cross-eyed goggling stares make me vomit in my mouth. I'm ready for him to be killed off, or at least sent to some zen-voodoo art school extraordinaire where everyone holds hands and chants Simon and Garfunkel songs. Because his whiny monotone 2-unintelligible-words-per-minute speeches on dating aren't doing it for me. And get some braces for crying out loud! This is America: no snagletooths allowed.

3) Chuck and Blair. No longer waging war. The conniving, meddling, back-stabbing, I'll-get-you-to-love-me-yet passion was the only real reason I watched this show. And now with the "maybe sometime in the future" cease-fire, I think I might give up on this show altogether.

Oh, and don't even get me STARTED on Mr. Nate Archibald and that bizarre bundle of conflicts.

Please, PLEASE bring back the fire. The drama. The minor-hunting cougars. Because until you do, NBC is getting my undivided attention.

Best Regards,

Tara

*cough cough*

As far as experiments go, I think it fair to say that I passed this latest purse-less test with flying colors. Yes friends, I succeeded in not filling my Mary Poppins carpet bag full of essential odds and ends throughout most of the week. And that was mainly due to the fact that from Wednesday night till yesterday I have been languishing on my sick bed (read: couch), coughing and hacking and whathaveyou. Now I know to some of you that might not make my bag-free attempt "successful" let alone "fair" - but really, when have I ever played fair?

Did I play fair when in 5th grade I told Brain Metcalfe to shove it when he claimed he got me out in dodgeball? No. I stayed in anyway. Did I play fair when I hid that Ace of Spades till the last round of poker and then called everyone suckers as I took all their money? No. Did I play fair when I cut in front of that little boy in the line for Space Mountain while his mom's back was turned and then feigned ignorance when his mom asked him why he was sobbing? No. And look where it got me - AHEAD.

Anyway. The point is that the experiment worked for a while. It seemed to work best while I was bundled in a blanket, sipping Diet 7up and watching 90's Christmas movies and Westerns. Don't judge me.

Foray into Minimalism

Today I have begun to do three things:

1) Experiment with minimalism. And by that I mean not carting around my purse which is usually the size of carry-on luggage. I feel that it will simplify my life. And also force me to be creative in finding where to put things, since I rarely have pockets in my work slacks. Lipgloss in my bra? Sounds good.

More than likely this will only last a couple days, because where am I going to put my grapefruit, Atlas Shrugged, huge wad of money and secret detective notebook? We shall see friends, we shall see.

2) Define my life each day in 6 words. No more, no less. Example: Most successful accomplishments based on spite. Or: My head, it kills. Advil please.
Again, notice the minimalist theme.

3) Write more haikus. I just feel that the world would be a better place if we spent a little less time protesting and a little more time haikuing. In church yesterday I was inspired by this truly terrible muscial piece to write a haiku. I couldn't remember how, so I had a friend refresh my memory. Though it turns out we were wrong, it's 5-7-5. Here's my latest creation:

Autumn leaves falling
sheep singing, returning sun
Babble, chaotic

Maybe not for everyone, but since when does true art appeal to all? I feel a new career option on the horizon. Do you have 6 words to define your life, or an inspirational haiku? If so please share.

That man is leering
I think of some brass knuckles
Sweet pain to my heart

my family and animals don't blend: a narrative

A long, long time ago, back when I was just a wee thing, my cousin Jonathan placed a "curse" on my whole extended family. This sounds weird, I know, but if you knew him you wouldn't be surprised. Actually I'm glad I've graduated because I sometimes lived in fear knowing we attended the same University. Now, I'm no expert as far as the dark arts go, and since he was no more than 12 at the time, I have a feeling that this curse-of-sorts actually just affects my immediate family. And this is what it entails: pets.

Every pet my family has ever owned has died prematurely. Without exception. There was my first cat Dabid - that's right, it's Dabid not David - who mysteriously "disappeared". But I knew the truth. The wild cats ate him. And believe you me, when you live out in the sticks of the central valley, everyone fears the feral wild cats. So I did what any broken-hearted child would do: I killed all the wild cats in the surrounding area with a toxic concoction I made out of tomato plant leaves, dirt and lighter fluid. Revenge is sweet.

Then there was my next cat, Coco. Who fell out of a tree as a kitten, got brain damage, turned crazy, and died. And then Abby, our first dog. A true mutt if there ever was one, but I loved it despite it's MANY flaws. While we were on vacation, our neighbors were watching it, and forgot to lock the gate after they fed her. So she made the great escape, got as far as the next street over, and consequently ate some rat poison and died.

THEN we got a bird. Only because my dad randomly FOUND IT sitting in a tree so he brought it home. It was this beautiful lime green and yellow parakeet, who scared the living daylights out of me because it would chase you if you were wearing socks. (Is anyone else noticing a strange pattern with my pets and mental health issues?) Well. Little Jake Hunter, Samwise's best friend, was over. And as all little boys are wont to do, they were playing swords. Jake didn't see the freaky bird running around, so he accidentally whacked it with his sword. Pigwidgeon (the bird) got all puffy and swollen and wouldn't move, even if you poked it. It stayed that way for like three whole days. And then one morning Paige wakes up to find Pigwidgeon moving around, and she gets so excited that she picks him up out of the cage and squueeeezes him with love. He got all weird and puffy again, so as I come waltzing into the family room the next day I see Paige playing with the very dead Pigwidgeon - she was stuffing him into a sock. And his head was flopping around all over the place. So I look at my dad who is watching this like it's NORMAL, and he says, Well she doesn't really know it's dead, and it's not like he cares now.

Which brings me to present day. We have no animals, since we decided to do a service to the animal kingdom by just staying away. But there's this cat who lives down the street. Mac. And weirdly he decided he wanted to live with us. So over the many years that he has been coming around, we have begun to feed him, and then let him in. All the time. And in return he brings us rats and birds and other such treasures. He would let Paige dress him up, and let us cart him around. He chased after marbles and string and we would tease him relentlessly with deli ham.

So a few nights ago, one of the twins comes up to me and whispers, "We found Mac on the street. A car clipped him and he's dead." And you guys, I have to be honest. I cried. ME. Over a stupid cat that I always professed I didn't like. Which was of course a lie. I loved that stupid bag of fleas! I love that he would be on the sidewalk waiting for me when I got back from the gym so I could let him in the house. And when he would follow me around when I was the only one home so he wouldn't be lonely. And now we've gone and killed him. I think the only reason he lasted as long as he did was because he wasn't technically ours. Oh and don't even get me STARTED on the stupid neighbors who buried him in their backyard, even though Mac didn't even like them. I hate neighbors.

Besides the morbid tones of writing about a dead cat, this narrative is also sad because I just barely scratched the surface of our many animal...mishaps. So on this rather unhappy note, let's raise our glasses to our cat that wasn't really ours. Mac, you were the perfect cat for our family and I hope you are enjoying big balls of yarn and ham a-plenty in heaven.

to the happy couple, round two

This is what I did this weekend. What can I say - weddings are just my thing as of late. I was fortunate enough to be part of the blessed decorations committee:

And was part of the hair and makeup team for this:

We did a good job, no?

Then had a love affair with this:

Yes, I had ribs, pork and chocolate silk pie on my FIRST helping.

And I got to reunite with this:

There was a bit of a brawl:

Over the last bite of pie, of course. Le cousins dangereux.

Weddings are crazy.