Category: Shopping

Check It Out!

“Ah, Venice!”
– Casanova

Venice, who if you did not know, is a rather awesome crafter, recently launched a blog and Etsy shop  to share her jewelry creations.  Go check them out at once!  I’m particularly digging her vintage-y looking post earrings, and fantastic charm necklaces (the Lovebirds Necklace is my current favorite and I’d totally buy these green lovelies if I didn’t already own three pairs of emerald and one pair of peridot earrings already).  She also does exchangeable watch bands to match any outfit, and best of all she does custom orders!

You’d pay twice as much for these pretties at stores and no two are alike so you’ll never have a “That wench is wearing my outfit!” moment.

Another reason to follow her blog?  She finds other great Etsy sites and artists to pass along and highlight and she’s always doing giveaways and who doesn’t like shiny, free stuff?  Valentines Day bonus at her Etsy shop going on now, run don’t walk!

Don't you need these?  Don't you?!
Don't you need these? Don't you?!

A Lesson In Snobbery

 
“I’m a lady, dammit.”
– C.

Occasionally J. teases that I’m a snob, and I can’t really get offended by it because it’s sort of true.  For example… 

Let me explain the problem...c'est ne pas la mot juste. And your tenses are wrong. That's all.

I always prefer quality to quantity when it comes to buying things, I’d rather spend more on something that will last me longer than less on something that will fall apart or go out of fashion in the near future.  I’m a bit of a stickler for grammar (I spent a good hour last night proof-reading the group project J. and co. has been working on all term and it practically bled red ink by the time I was done.  The whole time I was muttering things like, “Double spaces between sentences, I don’t care what Twitter culture says!” and “Passive voice, be gone!”  Suddenly I have an insight into the power trip that can be editing, being a writer by comparison seems very tame).  

I think women should wear nice gloves in cold weather, and that fashion might change but style is eternal, so stock up on the classics.  Feminist though I may be, I think a man should be taught from a young age to open doors and pull out chairs, if for no other reason than it reflects well on his mother.  I, very snobbishly, turn up my nose at ostentatious (read: ugly) houses and think that people who buy things just for the sake of buying them and showing off are sad, sad individuals.    

I also think that people should adhere to dress codes, both those printed on invitations and those coming from conventional wisdom (I am especially irritated by people who show up to wedding receptions in jeans and will judge you for doing so).  Pearls always work, and unless something designed by Harry Winston is required for an extremely special occasion, simple diamond studs are all you need.  Less is more.  Politeness is important and anyone who says otherwise is just justifying their own bad behavior.  

I have this problem. I admit it.

This is not to say I don’t have lapses, some of them grievous, from this creed (see above quote).  But I maintain that they are eternal truths to be abided by.  I also have  a snobbish habit of calling people “peasants” when they’re doing something foolish, weird, or distasteful.  In my defense, I picked that up from my most lady-like friend Marie! 

So, knowing that I am a bit of a snob…what do you think my opinion of Walmart is?  To boil it down, any place capable of producing a website like this should be avoided at all costs.  However, situations do arise in which Walmart must be braved and one befell us last night.  

Whilst setting up J. and my collective Christmas present to ourselves (more on that later.  Suffice it to say, I am a very awesome wife), we both were struck with fits of paranoia: me for the physical safety of our fabulous presents, being a klutz with an awful propensity for knocking things over, and J. for the general safety of everything we own, as our deadbolt lock is a pretty pathetic lump of warped metal.  And so, seeing as the nearest home improvement store was closed and the next closest store was Walmart and it was nearly 10pm already, off we went for locks, screws, and nylon. 

...or at least your self-respect.

During our 20 minute sojourn one (full-grown) man let out a five second belch from the next aisle that reverberated throughout the framing and mounting section.  One university-age boy sauntered in wearing what I think was a nylon head-to-toe jumpsuit covered with a tree motif (which I would have assumed was for hunting if it were not for the vivid coloring – not hunter colors, by the way).  Another boy strolled past wearing tie-dye cut off short shorts and extremely bad facial hair.  I saw some spoiled fruit, one mullet, and one girl with pants drooping so low as to, er, let it all hang out.  

Yep, I’m a snob.  And I will not be going back to Walmart again for some time.

After. Math.

“The Christmas season has come to mean the period that the public plays Santa Claus to the merchants.”
– John Andrew Holmes

Black Friday is not really something I participate in, I’ll occasionally venture out (closer to noon than midnight) but it’s no different for me than any other weekend shopping except the people are ruder and all have a look of unmasked panic flitting across their faces. 

But.  This year J. and I were tipped off early to Amazon.com’s sales.  BIG mistake!

I can quit any time I want!

– Five DVDs
-Eight books
– 80% of my inbox is shipping emails from Amazon
– Two packages received already
– One sore clicker finger
– Fourteen other books “Saved To Buy Later”
– Six squeals of excitement while clicking through site
– Nine heart-rending decision about what to buy and not buy
– Four times I’ve checked my shipping status since breakfast

How I Spent My Thanksgiving Holiday

 “Holidays – have no pity.”
– Eugenio Montale

Wednesday – I had work, J. didn’t have school.  Bitter.  I spent the afternoon making party favors for the department Christmas party and curling ribbon until my fingers were numb.

Thursday – Meet up with Fairy, Brando, Drill, Trixie, and others at that bastion of Americana, Chuck-a-Rama for cheap, easy food that we don’t have to clean up after.  Then back to godparents’ house for a rousing game of Rummikub and phone call from parents.

Friday – C. goes shopping (although NOT at 3am like the intrepid GS and GBIL…she waits until 10 and then hits the GAP and a couple unnamed stores for Christmas shopping).  Then she and J. group with everyone again to go to a movie.

Saturday – runs errands and finishes off the evening with The Football Game in which her team beats their hated rivals.  At some point during the celebrations, C. smacks her leg against the bleachers and obtains a nasty black and blue mark that she doesn’t notice until the next morning, so high is she from the euphoria.

Sunday – sleep in.

Small Dog does not enjoy going back to work after four days of indulgence.

Holidays, as nice as they are, have one horrible symptom: the reality check at the end.  Four days free of work means that all the industrious little habits one has get unceremoniously kicked out the window and waking up Monday morning is a chore.  I barely got in a shower before we had to dash out the door and didn’t have time to wash my hair.  Not the best way to kick off the busiest time of the year, at work and otherwise!

Gifts That I Keep On Giving

“Advice is cheap, Ms. Molloy.  It’s the things that come gift wrapped that count!”
-Hello, Dolly!

Handmade be damned!  I buy holiday presents for people.  Reason the first: I am not in the least bit crafty, I prefer forming words to paper mache.  Reason the second: I like shopping way too much.

grinch
Too many presents!

Of course, the holidays get more and more expensive every year as a result, to say nothing of it being harder to come up with ideas.  My father, J. and Venice have birthdays this month, mere days apart.  In December, Fairy, Elle, and Buddy have birthdays all orbiting Christmas.  In addition to family and god-family this year, I now have in-laws to buy presents for!  Remember the panic I endured last year when I was only J.’s girlfriend?  Multiply that times siblings, nieces, nephews, and pets.  Gah!

Last year for J.’s birthday I got him tickets to an NBA game for his favorite team, in the lower half of the stadium.  Ergo, I was Girlfriend of the Year.  In retrospect, I completely shot myself in the foot because there is nowhere to go but down from there.  And even my Christmas presents last year were pretty good! 

How am I supposed to keep doing this for the next fifty to sixty years?!

A Day In The Life (or, Retreat! Retreat!)

“To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy not respectable, and wealthy not rich…this is my symphony.”
-William Ellery Channing

A worthy, worthy goal, my loves, but how is a girl supposed to resist the allure of the fabulousness we endured during our secretaries retreat today?

How can a secretaries retreat be fabulous you ask?  I shall tell you.

image_room_double_luxury_1
Well, if we MUST...

First of all we went to the local ski town/get-a-way for many of the rich and famous.  We were treated to an incredible suite in an amazing five-diamond winning lodge-style hotel, because the guy who is head of security there used to work for our police department and likes us.  We were given the works!  Valet parking, personally escorted to our rooms, a charming young man sent up to light a fire for us, lunch at the five-star restaurant on the house, and the grand tour of the premises.  He pointed out the various celebrities homes on the neighboring mountain (many of which he’s run security on), walked us through where a certain un-named actress was recently married, took us through the rooms where a past president stayed, gave us several un-repeatable bits of gossip into the lives of some celebrities and dignitaries as he led us through the rooms they occupied, and also told us stories about the incredible lengths they go to in this place to preserve privacy

Sidenote – why oh WHY am I a secretary?!  Why didn’t I go into protocol, start in the government and military circles that revolve around themselves in England and work my way up through the fabulous hotels of London, doing the obligatory stint in the Queen’s service of course, and finishing up in a place where interesting people whirl in and out and ask you for nothing but to keep their secrets?  Whilst leaving five hundred dollar tips!  My only recourse at the point is to somehow break into the world of writing and become one of those interesting people with secrets, I suppose.

Back to our tale!  After being wined and dined, we spent two glorious hours attacking the local outlet stores that include everything from GAP to Coach!  I justified buying myself a few things by buying even more things for other people, knocking a solid three family members off my Christmas-shopping list in an hour.  Completely disregarding the fact that we are still paying off the four new tires currently cushioning my car.  Christmas is coming, and there will be no goose to get fat because C. will have pawned it in desperation.

funny-dog-pictures-jeeves-bone
Small Dog lives it up.

And believe it or not, we managed to have a lovely meeting in which frustrations were discussed, problems were solved, training was accomplished, and much needed venting got done.  It was glorious.

“Why don’t the guys ever go on retreats like this?” asked Wise as we pulled out our folders, took notes, and stretched our feet luxuriously towards the fire.
“Because they don’t know how to do things properly,” I retorted.  “Peasants.”

The Quickest Weight Loss Trick Ever

“Come on, you heifer!  What does not kill us makes us hotter!”
-Legally Blonde, The Musical

3316_picture_of_a_wornout_woman_on_a_treadmillAfter two months out of commission, I am back at the gym with Venice.  And I mean it this time.  Why?  Because Ven has imposed the mother of all weight loss incentives: no shopping until we hit our target weights. 

This means no new cardies, boots, hats, tights, trousers, jackets, NOTHING.  And Fall is upon us, THE season for the best and cutest of clothes.  You want to see a pair of wannabe recessionistas whip it into shape?  Dangle their credit cards in front of them while they huff and puff on a treadmill.

Why Yes, I Am Awesome, Thanks

“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly.  Specialization is for insects.”
-A. Heinlein

busy guyYesterday was the second day of school and I had already made a life changing discovery: my husband  will, for all intents and purposes, be dead to me for the next few years.  He’s in class from 8-12, then in the library from 12-5 when I’m done with work.  We go home, one of us contrives to make something edible, and then I take him back to campus for study groups/work on projects/meet and greet representatives from large firms trying to seduce the students early on/whatever else is going on that night.  Then he has homework until at least 11. 

So in response, I’m doing what I do best.  Mobilizing! 

Last night with Venice’s help (J. was at a firm reps meeting) I put together the shelving we bought for the kitchen.  Living, as we do, in the ghetto of our university town (it’s not that bad, just old.  Nearly fossilized, in fact) we have two cupboards in our kitchen, and the shelves in them are bowed with age.  Putting cans or even plates on them for as long as we have has been supremely of foolish of us, but necessity being the mother of desperation, we put off getting shelves for a while.  No more!  The kitchen is cleaned and organized and, if all goes well, it will stay that way.

I went shopping for food, inspired by the ever fabulous Hammy (Hat Tip to her for this idea!) and loaded up a bowl on our table with snacks.  I bough an armload of Ramen and instant macaroni and cheese for days when neither J. or I will be able to muster the strength to make lunches.  I’ve stocked up on crock pot ingredients which can all be dumped in together on my lunch break so we have something to eat during the approximate 4.6 seconds J. has at home.

Don't get be wrong...I'm sure a breakdown is coming...I just choose to ignore it.
Don't get be wrong...I'm sure a breakdown is coming...I just choose to ignore it.

Tonight I’m doing laundry and taking on the migratory herd of cardboard boxes that have been accumulating since our wedding, they’ve been making the rounds through our entire flat and have been grazing on whatever it is cardboard boxes eat in our office for weeks now.  Said herd shall be thinned, ruthlessly.  I already bought an office filing contraption and have moved critical things like marriage certificates, tax info, and the like in (partly to get it out of the pile on my desk, but mostly to keep J. from throwing it away again). 

Why the frenzy, you ask?  First of all a house in order is easier to keep in order long term, so if both mine and J.’s potential chore-doing ability has evaporated, let’s get the house put together before one of us has a breakdown rendering us incapable of sustained linear though.  Second because it really needed to be done, I’ve been putting the house off since we got married.  Third?  Because I am an AWESOME wife!  Who knew?

Adventures in Fashion

“You need to get up.”
“No!”
“Yes.  You need to make money to support your rock’n’roll lifestyle.”
“I don’t have a rock’n’roll lifestyle!”
-J. and C.

We have a trip to England to pay for, school is starting and with it the flood of ridiculously expensive books to be bought, and food must be paid for I suppose.  But fall is coming and that means so are fall lines!  Venice doesn’t help by calling me at work to tell me that Express is having a sale on their work shirts (two for the price of one!  That’s an investment, right?), and neither does my beloved Shabby Apple by debuting new fabulous dresses and accessories!  My Lust List expands exponentially, rather than relative to my wallet (lovely thing though it is) and the only thing that keeps me safe is an iron will combined with absolute horror towards credit card debt commercials!  I therefore bring you:

Small Dog’s List of Things She Wants But Cannot Have

Want want want... Paris dress by Stop Staring
Want want want... Paris dress by Stop Staring
The Greta Garbo dress by Stop Staring for Shabby Apple.  Drool...
The Greta Garbo dress by Stop Staring for Shabby Apple. Drool...

 

The Kenya dress by Shabby Apple
The Kenya dress by Shabby Apple

 

Share my umbrella headband by Shabby Apple.
Share my umbrella headband by Shabby Apple.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And in the category of accessories, considering that I’m living in a fantasy land, I’m also rather smitten with this little item (above headband).  More bohemian than my normal tastes, but I want it just the same.  Oh, come on.  Like you’ve never wanted something you couldn’t have? 

Adios!

“My doctor grabbed me by the wallet and said, ‘Cough!'”
-Henry Youngman

My Alma Mater does not have a Spring Break, but while I worked at the International Students’ Office as an undergrad, I found a way to circumvent this.  Our director would round us up every spring saying, “It’s, ahem, very important that you realize how difficult it can be for the students coming to our university to get in and out of the country” [Item: nearly every girl who worked there was an international, and every girl who worked had been out of the U.S. multiple times in her life] “and so we’re going to give you a little tutorial.”  And thus we were annually whisked off to Mexico!

This trip had to include a trip to an embassy/consulate to make it right and proper with the university, but after that we could do just what we…actually whatever Dr. F. wanted.  But as this always meant a trip to the beach, open air markets, and the good doctor’s favorite restaurant (which highlighted a mariachi band with what appeared to us to be excruciatingly tight pants…but that never seemed to diminish the musicians’ enthusiasm for dancing up to our tables, looking like their gut/bum/whatever were about to burst free any second), we were happy to go along for the ride.

A couple of years ago, we were down in Sonora in Hermosillo and going through an open air market selling all things cheap and designer knock off.  I was on the prowl for a new wallet as my old was a shabby wreck and where better to get an abominably fake looking wallet than Mexico? 

Won't you take me home?
Won't you take me home?

I’d all but used up our allotted hour and was trying to seem as if I did not hear Dr. F. calling while I frantically searched case after case of goods.  Finally, at the very instant I was turning around to trot after my friends in defeat, I saw it.  Laying in the case was a so-not-Coach-but-maybe-from-far-away-it-would-fool-somebody brown wallet that needed me as much as I needed it. 
“How much?” I enquired in broken Spanish.
“Five-fifty,” the woman answered in accented, but much superior to my sad attempt at her language, tones.
“Done,” I said.  I probably could have talked her way down, but Dr. F. was motioning sternly  so there was nothing to be done.
I stuck my hand into shirt and snatched my money from under my bra strap (where else was I supposed to carry it?!) and plopped my pesos down on the table in front of her.

Something about my humor/pathos amused her because she burst into laughter (which had a You Poor Thing! undertone to it) and said, “You can have it for just five.”
Gracias

DSC03311My wallet had finally outlived its usefulness and the inside was starting to come apart, so the other day I traded it in for this sassy red, ultra thin clutch.  But I felt bad tossing my old one and the entire day whenever I caught sight of it in the bin my first thought was that I’d made some horrible mistake (like tossing our marriage certificate again…still think J. did it), and even now I go searching frantically through my bag for it until I recall it’s been replaced.