...and many more

There are some days you have to yourself and then there is one day...that comes every year...and it truly is yours...and at the close of said day...you are deemed another year older. I'm lucky enough to have a week of birthdays to celebrate...or er, unlucky enough. The daughter, the husband, and my birthday's are all the same week. No, there was no strategic planning...it just turned out that way. And so...mine comes first, then the husband's, and then the daughter's. As guessed, mine is least celebrated...the husband's is celebrated usually with a nice dinner...(read...I didn't cook it and "nice" as in...they still have children's menu's) a few gifts from us that he usually likes...and in true fashion isn't nearly excited about as I am. And then...the week culminates with the daughter's birthday. It's a "pull out the stops" celebration of which she will have no recollection of at this point save for a few (read...thousand) photos and bygone gifts of the musical, push and plush variety. Cake will be eaten, paper torn, meltdowns averted,and at the end of the day I will be sad that she is another year older despite my overzealous celebratory behavior. Alas, I've given this brief history as a testimony to the warnings I received when I was pregnant and marveling about how cool and unique and "stars aligned coincidental" that we would all share the same birthday week. Warnings that I dismissed like a red flag at the beach on an otherwise perfectly sunny day. Warnings that would one day...not so long after the daughter's birth...culminate in me sitting...typing...on the eve of MY birthday...wondering if anyone would remember that it was MY day...wondering if sometimes Sixteen Candles really does come true...and sometimes...Thirty-Seven Candles. But...MY day came...and I was reminded why I have the husband I do, the friends I do...and the family I do. So I say this...life is sweeter with great friends and a loving family...(maple bacon cupcakes and flowers) and ironically the candles...the pomp...and the subsequent change in age makes no real difference after all!

Spent

Here we are at the faint beginning of fall and while one should feel refreshed...energized...and ready to pick pumpkins, drink hot coffee again, and thinking of fall fashion...I find myself completely exhausted. I have no energy, no appetite, and well...no desire to move off the sofa which is quite challenging with a 2 year old. While wallowing in my funk I started thinking about my favorite BFF( seriously, she would love me...er, if she knew me) Tori (Spelling). Often I've heard her talk about her own exhaustion and while I always just chalked it up to her being...well, famous and busy and a mother of two, I'm starting to think there's more to it. While I'm at no risk of being featured on a tabloid cover with critics worried about my weight or well-being for that matter, I am feeling like I too might need a stint in a hospital for treatment of "exhaustion" just so I can get some sleep! You see, this thing happens at the beginning of fall... called football. Just so happens that our team is on top which requires a full 5 hours of preparation prior to game time to actually drive to the stadium, fit in the requisite tailgating, and get in our seats before kickoff because of the enormous crowds and general debauchery (that I may or may not participate in). Which means...for the past few weekends I've had...NO weekend at all. No rest, no relaxation, and now I'm paying for it. But with no end in sight and mounting parties, holidays and general..."life as we know it"... I have no idea what I will do. Upside...I think I've lost a few pounds...downside...all my cute fall clothes I have recently acquired aren't going to fit if I keep on this runaway train. So, my question is this...what do I say when checking into the clinic?...I'm tired? I'm not hungry? I'm a celebrity? and more important, will my insurance pay for needing a...er, nap? My guess is "No"! And so, I'll drag myself to the Greek Food Festival tonight, the fair tomorrow, another football game Saturday, and a BBQ Sunday...and I suppose I'll tuck my head under my wing and try to sleep in between. image credit:birdsasart.com

Burch is the new Birkin

Tory Burch may just be the new Hermes. Seriously...who has time to wait on a list for an iconic bag when Tory's bags...shoes, etc. are becoming just as iconic and well...don't require billionaire status as a prerequisite for owning. Not to mention, they give a shot of youthfulness to the older masses, a shot of fashionista to the middle-aged masses, and a shot of "I know where I come from and where I'm going" to the younger masses. I discovered Tory years ago when I was drawn in by a masterful logo and colors that made me swoon. The Reva flat stole my heart and I soon had a pair in yellow. Then came the Reva jelly to wear when "cats and dogs" ensued and wellies wouldn't work. My jelly's are bright...think neon...pink and garner so many compliments/comments they need their own facebook page! Then came the pregnancy...no, this is not a style of Burch shoe...rather my burgeoning belly and a need for a flat, comfortable shoe for the Fall, one that would be more forgiving in the width department as my girth had become...well, girth. So, there I was in Saks slipping into a Tory Burch moccasin in black. Love at first sight. I wore them home...from the store...seriously, haven't done that since I was a kid at Buster Brown! And when it came time for another shoe...postpartum, I came running back to the moccasin but this time in "luggage"...a warm tan suede that begs for chic gatherings around a fire pit at your best friend's...sipping hot toddy's. I have worn all of them with love and know there will soon be another pair in my possession. (Thanks in advance to the husband!) Anyway, my point is this...Tory knows style, she knows design, she knows class. She is a master in developing a brand that mirrors Hermes and a style that before her some could only dream about. Yes, I love Hermes, I love their history, their elitism but I don't love the wait, the price...the snub. And then there's the "orange"...Hermes and their iconic orange boxes...orange leather goods...and orange perfume...you got me there...orange is synonymous with Hermes but alas...it is a color...not a brand. I love you Hermes...I will forever long for you...but when asking the husband "when are you going to buy me a Birkin Bag" he replied..."not before we buy a new car"...I've come to the realization that...when given a choice between a car or a handbag, the husband will choose the car...every time. And when I bring home my new Burch...whatever that may be...a bag, shoes, boots...he'll be as excited about them as me...he won't be thinking of a second mortgage or a new car. In these economic times and in a time when the zig-zag line ropes at the Disney of our youth are no longer appealing, I've decided that Tory is the new Hermes...Burch is the new Birkin. And yet, the husband says, "nothing can be the new Hermes...just like nothing can be the new Ferrari"...to which I reply..."since I doubt I will ever have either...is begging the new orange?" above image: Tory Burch NYC store front (note the orange lacquer doors a'la Hermes) below image: Chicago Magazine - Tory Burch store interior

White Lies

There are a few things that I've done my entire life...and when I was too young to do it for myself, my mother did it for me. At every Labor Day's close I would grudgingly put away my white pants, white jeans and white shoes. Even though the sun is still bright and that hint of fall I spoke of in an earlier post was just a ruse, I'll do it...we do it...because we are from the South and well...that's just what you do. "No white (below the waist) after Labor Day" is an unspoken rule that is followed probably more than any other fashion rule that I know of in my neck of the woods. Unless of course you are a bride and then it is allowed during the week of your wedding and honeymoon. But...what happens when the rule is broken? Well, it'll garner some pretty strong looks and an assumption that you are either not from the South or worse, the comment..."bless her heart". Now, here I am...a girl born and raised in the South...the deep South...and yet I find myself looking longingly at my white pants...my skinny white jeans that fall just long enough to wear my highest Chanel-esque wood clogs. I hear it all the time in all kinds of interviews and read columns in all kinds of fashion magazines that suggest..."the rules have changed...we actually CAN wear white after Labor Day...and apparently there really aren't any rules anymore". Yet, after hearing this bit of news over and over again I am still timid about slipping into white mid-September. And why? Why am I worried? What's going to happen? And, why do I care? I've also heard that "rules are meant to be broken", yet breaking into the local country club's pool after hours makes me less nervous than wearing white after Labor Day. And so, I guess ..."old habits really do die hard" because I'm not sure I can bring myself to change my ways. Maybe it's the South, maybe it's the heat...or maybe it's just me...either way, the tradition will remain...they'll be tucked away...and like a kid on Easter morning I'll pull them out and start a new season. Tradition...rules...and Southern pride in tact.

Nautical by Nature?

During a recent trip to the lowcountry...the husband and my sister and I rented a Catalina 22 and set out to sail the Sound. While I love all things nautical as mentioned many times before...nautical stripes, white pants, topsiders, sailor bracelets, boat totes...etc., and even though I've been sailing before...I have decided that while battling the incoming tide and an uncooperative mainsail...that I much prefer sailing with a hired captain. My day of leisure and relaxing while looking fab in my Seaside hat, racer tank swimsuit, and Burberry glasses became tangled in sweat, ropes and knot tying after trying to raise the mainsail, set the jib and keep from "heeling" my party into the water! Each time I felt as though my husband was a toe away from being tossed at sea I would "come about" in such a fashion that would make Formula One drivers proud (think...hairpin). While under sail...I started thinking...there are so many everyday common uses of sailing terms...things we say so often that we never think of their true meaning. Like...tell tale...it's the little ribbon that hangs on the mast to show wind direction...or, in everyday conversation it is used to indicate an outward sign. Or, three sheets to the wind...while our little boat only had two sails, the term refers to when the three sails are set but not tight and loosely flapping in the wind or as we all know in common everyday terms...liquored up! So, I suppose that with a Nation so rich in sailing and Naval history it would seem inevitable that these sailing phrases would become a part of our everyday expressions. While I may never master sailing a boat on my own without my fear of...well...everything...getting in the way...I have decided that sailing is something that every couple should do together at least once. What I know is that you have to communicate...you have to tell the other person what you are doing and what to watch for and...you may need help and that's okay. I was never so glad to crank in the sails and lower our tiny motor as I was that day. And, while we were in no immediate danger...save for my tossing of the boom during a couple of my "coming about's" that nearly sent everyone overboard...I was glad to be back on land and while I know I will never master the gracefulness and style while sailing that Jackie Kennedy exuded, I have since decided that nautical stripes, white pants, and topsiders look just fine on shore whilst sipping a salty dog and reveling in my time "at sea". For more everyday nautical expressions check out: http://see-the-sea.org/nautical/naut-body.htm image credit: Mark Shaw

Well, I'm officially...off the island and couldn't be more sad to have to leave! Hilton Head has one of the most efficient and incredible ecosystems I've ever seen (think... marsh as far as the eye can see)...smelled (think salt water...green grass...moss draped trees)...and tasted (think...shrimp...crab...mussels...and fish). Miss it already! So, after a week of fun in the Lowcountry...completely relaxed...recharged...and now...re-plugged in...I'll be back to blogging in a bit.