DIRT CHIC

Pop Goes the Living Room

Innumerable bruises later.

And now I need an Illinois break.

Adjustment Disorder Is a Real Thing.

Ok fine.  FINE FINE FINE.  After an eternity of wretchedness I'm trying, TRYING HARD, trying even HARDER, to go forth and conquer.  Like the squirrels in my parent's neighborhood.  Like the pollen that turns me into a red-eyed monster.  Like the epic amounts of stuff I'm trying to move and/or get rid of but seems to be proliferating like... rabbits.  

Pollen.  

Squirrels.  

...Oh wait.  These are all obnoxious things.  

...Ok fine.  I'm obnoxious, too.  And I admire the tenacity of the animal, plant, and consumer kingdom.  

So my similes work.

-----

I've done okay with being in near-constant limbo.  I only mention this because I will be in limbo for awhile further, but I assume at some point it will plane out.  It already is starting to.  Pretty soon all my stuff will be more or less in the same place.  I'll have time, again, to let my brain go to its happy place of writing and idea-manufacturing, for significant chunks of time.  And I have some things in store for this blog.  And writing.  And life.  

And hopefully all this new stuff that is happening will make me a better person.

That is, hopefully I will let that happen.

That is, my hope that this will happen is embedded in my letting myself make it happen.

?

Yes.

The End.

Spring Bounty

I would be more inclined to garden if this was what I ended up with.

The Real Ruby Slippers and Other Things

No jokes about a bird in the hand.

Unless it's about this bird looking like a food-truck snack.  Birdrito.  I did not eat this bird.  He was my companion for awhile yesterday, until he felt better.  I had him in the napkin because I've been told birds can be rather dirty and infested.  He was a buddy, though.

Casual reading.  I love garage sales and used book stores.  The top book was five cents (for real) and the other three were $4 each.  I don't understand how someone could price something for five cents.  Why not just price it one cent.  

Alright.  I'm pricing all the napkins in my car at one cent.  That bird owes me.

It's hard not to look crazed when a) you have on silver penny loafers and b) your pants' tab is mysteriously not fastened.  (In my defense my pants were zipped and buttoned.  I am ethically and morally and spiritually against pants that have to be undone in order to be comfortable sitting down.)

But the original ruby slippers were, in fact, silver!!!

I have no illusions.  I'm not Dorothy.  

But these shoes will transport me to interesting places.  

...and they weren't five cents.  (The time had come for me to buy something new and worthwhile.  More on quality footwear, later.)

You Can Learn a Lot of Things From the Flowers

So it is still chilly out, but there have been sunny days.  And the rainy days have been fine; I can see the daffodils through the rain.  The baby sparrows are going nuts in the birdhouse.  It's not as majestic a spring so far, not like last year, but I'm thinking it'll punch us all in the face pretty soon here, and then not long after that people will act like they've never lived through a hot summer before. ;)

Mary gave me this choice vintage Alice in Wonderland plaque yesterday.  Not sure where to put it just yet; probably will just wait until I move.  Yikes.  When I move.

In other news, I finally got some Bass penny loafers.  I was thinking on it for awhile, and then I worked all day in moderate heels, but I was on my feet the whole time.  I feel like I'm 1,000 years old.  However, penny loafers will make me feel younger. ;)

And in other other news I have been writing up a storm, and reading history plays, and plotting out projects.  This is how I bide my time.  And live my life.

Pink Rabbits, Blue Ermine, La La La.

I'm done writing for the day.  I was fried going into it and I quickly realized I was getting to the Hard Part because that is when I get extra-antsy and find it extremely important to do mundane things like floss, tweeze, check phone, straighten picture frames, and even the supreme time-wasting activity of going to the bathroom.  But that didn't stop me.  To resist is human, and to get over it and dive in is not exactly divine, but man, bringing something from nothing (writing) is pretty danged worth the trouble.  

It was only an hour but I think I set myself up pretty well for tomorrow where I will be a WHOLE LOT FRESHER (coffee, sleep) and maybe I can get Act Two over with.  Not that I'm treating it like a chore to complete (gold star!).  But I do have some other projects I'd like to attack/tackle.  Attackle.

In other news, if you are in the market for pink and blue fur jackets I might have what you're looking for.  Granted, they look so gorgeous together I almost want to just keep them around for aesthetic inspiration.  And cuddling.  

Insert Smock Pun Here (I Can't)

I thrifted today.  In classic form, I came home with an 80's Hawaiian-print sundress, an 80's hot pink tuxedo shirt/blouse, an Italian scarf in neon colors with some sort of Italian icons on it, a beaded shirt, an 80's button-up plaid shirt that someone used as their paint smock, and a small ceramic bear.

I would show you these things but they are still stuffed in a bag.  

I have largely been doing one thing: rewriting my screenplay.  Again.  It is gloriously consuming.  And have also been reading about women's history.  As usual.  And job stuff.  And life stuff.  Which is redundant, because rewriting and women's history is the STUFF OF LIFE.

I need to stop wearing smock-like garments.  At least, the way I wear them when having a write-a-thon, which means I could really care less how I look.  I caught a glimpse of myself in a car window today and I thought, I look like a harried mom.  And in case that sounds horribly offensive, just know that all the moms I know, truly, never look anything but lovely, even when harried.  So, I looked like a harried ghoul mom that doesn't exist.  Except in hell.  I need to work on this look.

But anyways.  I am wanting to work on a post about using clothes as decorations (at Kristin's suggestion) and I will, but not until I get out of the screenplay mindspace.  So here is this, for now.  This is my current office.  And, well, dressing room.  Where I put on ghoul smocks.

But What I Really Spend My Time On

I have now entered the realm of wanting to write pretty much all the time.

I need to find a way to tell my younger self.  

And: I love screenwriting.

Hot Crustacean Crafts

I am not much for crafting a lot of the time, but when it's awesome, it's RAD. (And vice versa.  Of course.)

Perhaps the way I store my supplies has something to do with this.

...But I had no intention of crafting anytime soon for any reason.  Then Lucy came over to hang out with me and I asked her if she wanted to make something (yes) and I remembered I kept my box of beads just for this purpose.

And we proceeded to craft.  That is, she proceeded to craft for maybe 10 minutes (the 5-year-old attention span is the same as a gnat's, as my mom says), and then went and asked Grandpa to turn on a show for her, and then I sat at the table and obsessively bent wire.  

Apparently I was going for a sea anemone theme.  

Or something like that.  Crustacean?  Sea cucumber?  This necklace below looks like one.  I would show it on, but I'm wearing workout clothes, and that's just not even remotely awesome.  (For photos.  Fitness is awesome, though.)

What initially got me going, though, was a photo Ashley sent me a few days ago, of some clearance earrings at Target that used chandelier drops.  (Maybe plastic ones.)  I have a chandelier necklace and earrings.  (They are glass.) 

Apparently, I need more.

Apparently.

I hung them with the others.  I love them.  But I'm afraid of them.  That they might break and stab me.  ...But wouldn't that be kind of awesome?  It sounds like something that would happen in a music video.

So that is that.  And Lucy enjoyed herself.  :)  And because I like pictures of food (and kittens/cats, and probably most anything else that gets made fun of... except obnoxious selfies, including my own) anywhere on my phone or the internet, I'll post a picture of my creation today.  I CRAFTED it.  I FORGED it.  From a bunch of brain cells.  I'm happy that I'm getting better at making stuff up that doesn't taste bad.

Okay, okay.  It tastes AWESOME...  

.../RAD.

Glamorous Gowns Right Around the Corner

Victor Costa ripped off extremely expensive high fashion designs and had his Texas seamstresses copy his versions and sell them for considerably less at notable department stores.  (That is my one-sentence summary of this.)  Like, $200-1000 compared to, say, $2000-$10000.  

I didn't know any of this until recently.  I just knew that a) I love the Victor Costa I have and b) it is worth having.  

I owe it to Ashley, of course.  She showed me this dress on Etsy and I bought it for a special occasion (the opening of my play, RPM).  I wore it with my blue fur stole.  Can't find the picture, as it's in hard drive land.  It was not cheap by my standards, but at $100, it was still worth it.  

Then I found this velvet number at a tiny thrift store in Lincoln, Illinois.  For $8.

And then I found this on Etsy for $40, and it was one of those times where I felt bad for the seller because I know they didn't know what they had and I was benefitting from it.  I do have some (a lot) of thoughts on the ETHICS of fashion and consumerism and whatnot - I will get to that later.  I think.  (And that's not me.  I'm obviously not that size.  I will have to get it taken out ever so slightly.  Or GET CRACKIN' and shed some winter weight.)

And then I found this at an antique store for $15 and I just was like, forget it.  If people don't know they don't know.  

But now YOU know.  So go find some Victor Costa.  And rip off the ripper-offer by buying his clothes for a LOT less than they originally were when they were a lot less than their originating designs.  I think it all ends up being a positive thing.