see, here's the thing about money

I hate spending it.  I've been known to not shop at all for months and then feel like I wear the same thing every.single.day and then go out and splurge (meaning $300 or so) and then keep it all in the package, try it on one last time, and then feel so guilty that I take it all back.  In Mesa I lived right next to Anthropologie.  yeah, they loved me.  and I hate clicking the "complete purchase" button at the bottom of the checkout page.  so much so, that I'd say 90% of the time I don't.  but I leave the page up on the computer, just in case.  and then, after two weeks hubs will use that page to check ESPN and its gone.  and 99% of the time I'm happy about it.  but today my hand has been hovering over that little button for a while.  a long while.

food is another story.  I will spend hundreds of dollars on food because I care what goes into my body.  Not hundreds in one stop, mind you, but if it meant quality food going into my body so I can live a long and healthy life (or just maybe reverse the damage I caused it previously), then I say go for it.  Only the best chocolate for this girl.


but with clothes, everything gets outdated so fast and I'd rather pay $50 for a shirt I can wear for 20 years than an $8 shirt I can wear for one month.


aaaand we're back to today's predicament.  emersonmade makes my heart pitter-patter.  I love this woman and her creations.  and her farmhouse, but I'll save that for another day.  these shorts are only online.  and  I already hovered too long before and when I finally bit the bullet, they were sold out.  I emailed and BEGGED for her to bring them back for me, and she did (excellent customer service, no?).  but now I'm hovering again.  and already half of the sizes are sold out.


SO WHAT DO I DO????  If I hover any longer I know I'll miss my shot.  but the thrifter inside of me (I just bought three shirts, a hat, and a pair of shorts from Buffalo Exchange two weeks ago for $60) screams at me to wait for a discount code.  but what if they're gone by then?  and I would wear these EVERY.SINGLE.DAY. of summer.  scratch that, every day of my life.  Oh the injustice!


What ever shall I do??  please, for the love of Pete, talk some sense into me.


on a completely unrelated note, this is what happens when you braid your wet hair before you go to bed in anticipation for long flowing wavy locks in the morning.  fail. just lots and lots of frizz over here.

and for those of you dying to find yourself in my same predicament, go here to check out more emersonmade.  I DARE you not to fall in love with something.


now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go jump in a pool to calm this mane down a bit.

Black and Brown (-ish yellow)

Yesterday I started looking for a “black tie” dress for this weekend.  

These events can be tough.  I can say that its not hard anymore to compare myself to other women when I walk into a room.  I can’t say, however, that walking into an event where almost everyone is highly concerned with how they look isn’t setting myself up.  but I want to support my husband, because I am sooooo proud of him for who he is and what he’s done, so I’ll just have to be on my toes, noticing what I’m thinking and feeling.

The last thing I want to worry about all night is how tight my dress is and how it felt a little bit tighter after I ate.  or constantly be pulling it down so its not too short, or pulling it up so its not too low.

I resorted to facebook.  I asked for help in finding a dress.  and to my delight, a good friend of mine, also the president of a pretty big political organization who attends occasions like this quite often, came to my rescue.  She threw two dresses in her car and told me to come by the office and pick it up anytime.

I practically ran to the car, (gently) threw my baby in the car seat, and rushed to her office.  She invited me in, showed me the options, and naturally the one I l.o.v.e.d. was Dolce & Gabbana.  My mom would have known what dress I would choose by how much they cost.  I can somehow always choose the one with more dollar signs.

I try it on as she grabs my baby and snuggles him (because letting him crawl on her floor would mean MURDER to her neatly stacked piles of paper).  It’s amazing.  really, truly breathtakingly beautiful (the dress).  and it fits.  bingo.

We walk to the bathroom for a better look, we both approve, and as I slip it off, I notice poop.  on my white shirt.  on her dress.  and as I shoot a glance at Smith on her hip, on her.

I was going to send her a card, maybe some flowers, but what says thank you like a little poo on your cardigan as an accessory for the remainder of your business day?

I graciously bowed out, mumbling profuse apologies, and slipped the dress under my arm before she had a chance to rethink her offer.