Fashion Fridays a la Target

Why should you care what some random Austin attorney thinks you should wear? I have no idea!

Does she have any idea what she's talking about? Doubtful, but she likes to think so!  

If we humor her and let her talk about her latest Target finds, is she likely to stop talking about herself in the third person? Situation unclear; worth a try anyways.

So I sauntered into you-know-where yesterday to purchase a shower gift and came out with a gift - and the following two retro-inspired goodies.  That it was only two is a testament to my overwhelming self-control . . . (credit all following horrendous shots* to the Target Merona Collection):

*Note to Target: arent' you a multi-squillion dollar business? Why the consistently awful photography?

"Belted Swirl Dress":  because of the characteristically crap Target photography here, it's difficult to make out the flattering boatneck, patent belt detail, and the a-line skirt flare.  And they lobotomized this model, not me.  But trust me - OH MY BETTY DRAPER ADORABLE.

This also passed my Target Sniff Test;  for those of us fortunate enough to live by a store - and I do mean "fortunate" - I believe you should check out the merchandise in person first vs. ordering online.  There are certainly a few poorly made stinkers at Target, as at any discount chain, but this dress felt substantially made, had tidy seams, etc.  

"Ottoman Trench":  loved the retro-looking buttons and ivory piping, as well as the subtle texture of the coat material.  Good lightweight spring trench - and note the dress peeking out underneath.

This line is full of discount cuteness, but here are two more in particular I intend to investigate in person:

"Keyhole Dress"

 - and -

"Large Tote with Brass Hardware":  as I commented to Ms. Classy Chaos recently, I'm generally a believer in saving up for higher quality handbags more likely to thrive despite my daily abuse.  However, sometimes a girl just needs an affordable bag.  I've owned Target bags that have lasted me years with heavy use, so this might be a budget post-Easter spring/summer bag that sneaks into my lineup (after rigorous inspection, of course).

Happy weekend, dolls . . .

The Frenemy Post

I really, deeply want to wax retail about these Revas I'm admiring, and how my very act of purchasing them they will whisk me away to that mystical country club in the sky where jobs are optional but bellinis are not.  

But - but - my keyboard keeps coming back around, like a annoyingly persistent Ouija board, to a topic visited recently by Skiplovey:  the itchy Google finger*, and the frenemies who inspire its ill-advised searches.  

*By the way, I hereby declare that none of you may deny the itchy Google finger, because we all have one.  That is all.

[Edited to Add:  a similar tale of friendship woe was recently told by SLynnRo;  in fact, you may just assume if I've written something here, she has managed to cover it already in far more stylish, funny fashion.]

In my case, my Google frenemy was both a law school classmate and a former competitor in one of my childhood hobbies.  I recognized her in class one day & introduced myself, which led to a quick and close friendship based, I imagine, on the unusual number of things we had in common.

Perhaps it would be more accurate to say "the many things we had in common, but that she did far, far better than I did".  Of course, all of my close friends are extraordinary women and men, but this particular friend managed to push most of my insecurity buttons - yes, even I, Mistress of Haughty Superiority, have one or two - by her mere existence.  If I had a boyfriend, she had a much nicer one;  if I studied for an exam, she studied twice as diligently, despite having a natural aptitude I lacked, and did four times as well.  She was better looking without effort, was wealthy while being gracious about it, and had the Normal Rockwell-style family I didn't.  And so on and so forth  . . . 

Despite my lingering, perhaps irrational sense of imbalance, we continued as friends - until one day, unannounced, she stopped talking to me.  Tried and convicted in secret - especially ironic given our vocation - I was suddenly persona non grata, demoted from close friend and study buddy to less than zero, an object of silent treatment contempt.  It has happened to many of us - I'm ashamed to admit I've done this myself - but it took me by complete surprise nonetheless.

To this day, I have no idea what crime against friendship I may or may not have committed, despite my many attempts at the time to broach the topic.  At my wise old age of thirtyone , I now realize the justification is wholly irrelevant. Not to demonize the girl, but there were numerous indications at the time that this friend was anything but, including her equally poor treatment of a mutual friend. However, I have long forgiven myself having missed the signs in my early twenties, experience and age being the best teacher, hindsight, blah blah blah. 

What I have been less successful at are the attempts to lay off the Google.  I'm not talking everyday, bunny-boiling Google levels, but merely the once every year or so, "I wonder how X is doing?" variety.  And while a small part of me is admittedly irked that she's still managing to outlap me on the Life Resume Points stuff - it truly is remarkable how many of those overlapped in our case - the occasionally mature, bigger part fully realizes that the surface success doesn't define the whole in this case, not by a long, very important shot.   And that sort of insight is part of why I'm secretly grateful to now be thirtyone , wrinkles and all.

Who triggers your itchy Google finger?  Do you give in to the Googling or try to resist it? 

ETA:  I neglected to add that I Google exes as well, naturally.  I just assumed that was one of those inalienable human rights, along with the right to free speech and to wear Tory Burch, as listed in the Geneva Convention or something.  Right?  Right??

The (Un)Grace(ful) Experiment, Part 5

This is my weekly attempt to start things off even though it's Tuesday night already and basically mid-week on an appreciative note for the little things, with varying degrees of snark-free success.

Since I am of late cranky and feeling tired and sore and haughtily superior but not in a witty  way and insecure about the Big Grown Up decision stuff I've had to deal with and stuff and flagrantly doing the run-on sentences thing yet again and pondering my reality TV watching issues- ((deep breaths)) - frankly, I'm struggling this week to be grateful.  However, in my more Oprah, fuzzy-lighting moments, I know these are the times to struggle through - *cue the soaring movie music which tells us to start feeling pensive* - realize I am in fact very fortunate, and act like a grown-up, so . . .

1.  Upcoming visit from my active-duty little brother, despite the fact it is wholly motivated by a lurrrve interest nearby. He will deny this, which is part of why I still adore him.  

2.  Speaking of lurrve, finding my new Good Paper crush.  I know, I know - paper?  Yes - this is grace in the little things, and Good Paper certainly qualifies.  In any event, introducing the Crane Plum Blossom line:

(Credit:  Stationery Style)

I am of course referring to the notecards, and not the wedding invitation sample listed above - although whenever I do get around to marrying those other husbands Hugh Jackman, I'll definitely take this one into consideration.

3.  2 Pugs are better than one:

The HRH and temporary foster Pug enjoying a cuddle.  Love in a snorting, shedding pile.

4.  Chatting with my Twitter girls during our Oscar night snarkfest, which made the Geometry-class* long ceremony nearly bearable . . although I'd like to thank the Academy for the lingering hangover exhaustion I suffered as a result, not to mention the High School Musical nightmares.

*No offense intended for any high school math teachers out there, although I'm presuming you aren't a power crazed nerd working out his daddy issues on the class. Just a thought.

5.  This, which I happened upon today during one of my internet rambles.  In turns offensive, adolescent, ridiculous, silly, voyeuristic, and funny, it was just what I needed on my commute.

Virtual Viewing Party: The Oscars

There will be champagne, complete with the Pink Bendy Straw of Celebration . . .

There will be Girl Scout Cookies . . .

And there will be Fantasy GBF Tim Gunn*  . . .

*Unfortunately this one is just on the pre-show red carpet, and not in my personal residence.  I'm fabulous, but not quite that fabulous.  Yet.

Some refer to the Oscars telecast as the "Super Bowl for women".  The feminist in me** bristles at this description, since there are some women for whom the football-related Super Bowl is in fact the, um, Super Bowl.  Happily, I am not one of those women, so I've spent this week doing my mental happy dance about the Oscars telecast tomorrow and all of the spectacular outfit judging and champagne swilling to come.  

**Yes, there definitely is one, although she does get manicures & read "US Weekly" on planes. 

For those of you following me on Twitter - and if you aren't, dolls, why aren't you? - I will be over there talking nonsense about whatever deliciously berserk ensemble Tilda Swinton graces us with and the like.  For the rest of you who would, say, prefer an internship over at Lindsay Lohan's new self-tanner line*** to talking Oscar, apologies & promises to behave myself again on Monday. In the meantime, I've got some cookies to catch up on & movies to see.

***The jokes just write themselves sometimes, no?  Is there something we could possibly add to this felicitous news?

*************************************************************************************

A very overdue thanks to Kwana, authoress extroardinaire, and wonderful new blogette Prepster for the kind blog awards.  Thank you both!

It Is Hereby Declared . . .

. . . that today is actually Thursday, February 19, 1984, which would make my roots less of an appalling eyesore and more of a fashion statement.  Less "Suicidal B-r-u-n-e-t-t-e Blonde", more "Material Girl".  Less overdue for emergency hair intervention, more Debbie Harry.

So I'd very much appreciate it today if you would all join me in doing your hair in a distracting side-ponytail, throw on your nearest neon pink glitter-paint tee (points if you have the plastic t-shirt clip), grab the nearest Cabbage Patch Doll, and declare this day 80s throwback day.  You with me?

More later, after my salon appointment . . .

Yours in 1 million friendship bracelets,

Legallyblondemel

Are You There, God? It's Me, Pretty

(Credit: Wikipedia)

Hi there, Judy Blume! Or is it Higher Power you're going by nowadays?  In any event, hey.

I'm not here invoking your wisdom today like I did the last time in sixth grade, when it was all about Health Ed. and Boy X with the dreamy green eyes.  Happily, both of those hopeless causes are now a faded memory*.

*Except for the diving board video in health class.  Remember?  REMEMBER?

Today I am cognizant of the fact, as I wasn't back then, that I am actually a very fortunate individual.  Somehow, despite the fact that Boy X did not return my adolescent affections**, I've lucked into a wonderful, blessed adult life.  Nonetheless, this week I find myself a wee bit overwhelmed by said tremendous life and very much wishing that in the span of your usual hundred-something paperback pages or less, you could give kind guidance on the following issues:

**His name was etched on my Trapper Keeper - until he went after my best friend instead.  Trapper Keeper traitor!

- opposing counsel non-maiming

- car buying

- car paying

- travel planning

- (gulp) kidlet planning

- potential Pug fostering

- no sleeping

- pony finding (thought I'd throw this one in, just in case you have a spare)

I'm not asking to be sent back to sixth grade, Miss Blume.  Actually, I will pay you handsomely to not send me back to that unique purgatory.  I'm just saying that, you know, a good night's sleep and maybe a lightning bolt solution to one of the above dilemmas would be super. Besides, my junior high prayers of "I must, I must, I must increase my bust . . ." didn't exactly come through, so you might owe me, Margaret,  and potentially a generation or two of girls a favor or two.  Just a thought.

Thanks!

xoxo,

Legallyblondemel

The Grace Experiment, Part 4

My attempt to start each week this year by listing 5 things, little or big, for which I'm grateful.  I'd say I try to do this sans the usual snark, but, well, um . . . that's even less fun than attempting to act appropriately thankful here.  

Would you believe I'm feeling grateful for more than 5 things this week?  The least nauseating five, if you can believe it:

1.  Friends who exclaim upon my entering a party, "Oh, good, we can open the champagne now!"  YES WE CAN!

2.  Recchiuti chocolates.  Trust me.

3.  The HRH Pug spent his Valentine's Day weekend clad in a festive holiday-themed scarf, so the Anonymous Husband threatened both divorce and custody proceedings if I post a recent photo.  Therefore, I attempt to earn your reader love by posting a puffy-hearted picture of the HRH as a puppy:

We're still working on our entry for Mrs. Jetplane's Pug contest . . . these things cannot be entered into lightly, after all.

4. Proof that I haven't been 100% sucked into my latest Type A Minus obsession, car shopping*, in the form of this DVF dress that is now on my stealth sale watch list.

*Although this is arguably more socially normal & productive than the teenaged vampire problem, no?

5.  That I met the AH in that time honored, old-fashioned way**, versus the current reality show means which primarily involve hot tubs and spray tans***.  Not that I'd know this from religous "Bachelor" watching.  Nooooope, not me, tra la la la . . . 

**In a bar, naturally.

***Bikinis?? On a first date?? 

Valentine's Gifts, Anti-Martha Style

You might be surprised to learn that I, mistress of bemused detachment, am a Valentine's Day believer.  It's true.  My icily cool demeanor is nicely counterbalanced by my being generally high-maintenance and specifically fond of being spoiled.  So I find February 14th, like all of its Hallmark brethren, to be a most festive occasion.

In a futile stab at self-defense, I will confess that I don't demand that these holidays entirely conform to Hallmark stereotype.  For example, I prefer tulips or orchids to red roses.  I'm the very model of modest expectations, no?

I also muchly, greatly, snark-asidely enjoy buying gifts for other people.  And while the Anonymous Husband has called his gift-worthiness into question as of late - I still can't quite get over the fact that none of you dear blogfriends exist - he's legitimately had a stressful week or five, hence my determination this year to find him a worthy Valentine's Day present.

The term "find", versus "make" or "create via my internal design genius", is a deliberate one.  As this post title might suggest, much as I sincerely adore that cranky matron of Good Things, I am the anti-Martha.  It is entirely beyond me to come up with adorably adorned Valentine's creations like the fabulous Mojito Maven did.  Unfortunately, I break out in spiritual hives in crafty stores like Hobby Lobby, although I did once use an Exact-O knife to cut the foil from a wine bottle.  To conclude - a domestic goddess I'm not, but I strive to overcome that with stunning good looks, vodka, and the occasionally cool present in various uncool states of gift-wrap.

*****THIS IS A TEST OF THE EMERGENCY AH "DO YOU ACTUALLY READ MY BLOG?" SYSTEM!  ANONYMOUS HUSBAND, DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER UNTIL FEBRUARY 15TH! NOT THAT YOU READ THIS ANYWAYS - I DON'T THINK - BUT, ANYWAYS!!********

So for my Valentine this year, I decided to go with something catering to travel and electronics fun, both being high on the AH list.  Thanks to new blogfriend Maggie, from whom I happily stole this idea:

The Bose noise-cancelling headphones are pricey, but also supremely wonderful if you spend any amount of time on planes. Because you can no longer get leg-room, pretzels, or customer service on a domestic US flight, but you can drown out that chatty seatmate who wants to set you up with her nephew's pharmacist.  I can also vouch for the incredibly quick service on the Bose website, and this has absolutely nothing to do with my procrastinating this year and waiting until two days ago to order a present.  Nothing at all, la la la la.

And since Smug Couple types shouldn't have all of the Valentine's fun, here is my Valentine's favorite from my single days & to send to friends now when I get my Pretty act together (ie, not this year):

These wee cards are the opposite of homemade, but they are the very sort we all used to give and receive in grade school, and they therefore thaw my arctic heart.  A little.

Awesome, right?  Hopefully my mystery Valentine's Day - which will include such highly romantic things like car shopping - turns out just as unicorns-and-rainbows filled.  For those of you who also believe in these types of Hallmark shenanigans, what sorts of fantastical things do you have planned for Valentine's Day?

My Imaginary Friends

I have some potentially upsetting news for you.

You are not real.

At least, not according to the Anonymous Husband, who sauntered over to my MacBook last night, observed my Twittering, and haughtily proclaimed, "Hey, you're spending an awful amount of time online talking to internet people. What about, you know, real people?"

!!

Please take a minute to absorb this. I'm sure you all went about your day today assuming that you did in fact exist. It's a little confusing, isn't it? However, looking at the happy end of this revelation, this might also mean that your job and your mortgage and bills to pay are also fictional?

Selfishly, this revelation is a bit confusing for me as well, since I am fortunate enough to have actually met a few of you. That I've also known a few of my readers for years is also perplexing, but that must have been the day one of many of Physics I didn't understand.

And for those of you I've not met yet, I am saddened that, since you all are apparently a figment of my imagination, I apparently won't get the chance. Disappointing to say the least, since you seem like a particularly pretty, witty bunch. And a bunch inclined towards champagne consumption, which is my type of crowd. Sigh.

But in all seriousness, after directing my Icy Glare in the AH's direction* - I lovingly add that this would be the AH who works in and went to school in and grew up near Austin, giving him ever-so-slightly more of a social foundation - I did pause to seriously reflect on his statement. After gazing deeply into my computer monitor for a few minutes, mulling over my average day in this new city of mine - which includes lawyering, looooooong commuting, gymgoing, dinner fetching making, pet caring, bill-paying, Junior Leaguing, and trashy TV viewing - I decided: not so bad, self. Somehow, despite the Twitter and the Blogger and all of the FUN I'm having writing and getting to know you find people, I'm slowly learning my way around this new town of mine - and! - doing a lot of other stuff AND running across some nice people along the way. Not an overnight affair, but I'm getting there.

*This is my A-1-A objection to Botox & the like, by the way - however do you properly scowl at people?

I realize this is silly of me to ask, given that you all are apparently just Internet People and hence figments of my little ol' imagination, but - has anyone else out there been on the receiving end of such a Stern Talking To?

Important, Special Note to Tiffany & Co.

Pretty Headquarters

10 Malevolent Manor
Principality of Monaco, via Austin, Texas


February 10, 2009

Tiffany & Co.
456 Stop Catering to the Teenagers St.
New York, NY 10666

Dear Tiffany:

It pains us to direct our Icy Glare in your direction, old friend. Truly. So much so that we're bringing out the Royal We* for support.
*And lots of Capital Letters!! Wacky!

However, when you inundate our virtual and actual mailbox with this sort of thing, We are forced to set aside any Little Blue Box loyalties and say . . .

. . . DUDE.

In all seriousness, T, we realize that Valentine's Day is Upon Us and all, but this selling sterling silver advertisements of yourself must stop. When you as a brand cease making me desire to breakfast iconically in front of your store, and instead inspire me to nearly lose that same meal, something has gone horribly, disturbingly awry. Let's take a look, shall we?

It's 2009 now, T. Even Elle Woods - that Pretty Heroine who inspired countless professional, independent yet feminine women everywhere to run out and buy the exact same Tiffany heart necklace** as one another - would be the first to admit when a certain blinged-out, It Bag, logo-crazy zeitgeist has passed. That time, we fear, is now.
**S'OK, everyone did it. I have some of it too. No need to hide. XOXO!

Because, at this very moment in time, many of us might not choose to be Returned to Tiffany***; returning to an actual job tomorrow sounds rather nice, actually. Health insurance, buying a car, worrying about my - ahem, Our - active military brother possibly being sent to Iraq - these are things I'd like to advertise on behalf of at the moment.
***If, however, this showed up at Pretty HQ, I might be willing to reconsider . . .

To conclude, T, we're not asking for a breakup as we did with our former flame, Coach**. Quite the opposite, actually - we wear a number of your more - what's the word for it - subtle pieces daily, and have enthusiastically encouraged others to do the same here. It's just that . . . Tiffany, at this be-logoed moment . . . We're Just Not That Into You.

Mournfully Yours,

Miss Pretty,
Pretty HQ, February 2009

The Grace Experiment, Part 3

My weekly attempt to play nice and list 5 things for which I'm grateful - because I may be too coolly superior for the Facebook Meme, but I'm no stranger to hopping on every other bandwagon like this one.

1. Top-secret fabulous news from one of my best friends, and not only because it will allow me to make multiple trips home to shop and indulge my Good Paper needs. So elated about this one I might even break from my icily elegant demeanor and let out a - YAY!

2. E!'s Grammy Red Carpet coverage, for clearing up a Pretty household mystery - turns out there IS television so insultingly dumb that even I will not watch it. Thanks, Giuliana!

3. The HRH Pug spent most of his weekend barking. And barking. And barking. Which inspired me not so much to photograph him as to utilize my latent soccer-playing abilities and drop kick him into my neighbor's yard. Important Note to PETA, etc.: No kicking was involved - we just went on a long walk while I administered a Stern Lecture. For serious.

So I'm recycling an old favorite as a reminder to me & the interwebs why he should very much be left alive, incessant yap yap yapping aside:

4. Apologies for my recent and wholly nauseating Austin love-fest here & on Twitter, but - I really, really puffy-heart adore living in a town again that has enough good food and music and, increasingly, theater, to sate my yuppie needs. If only my invite to the 10-year "Office Space" party here tonight hadn't been lost in the mail . . .

5. That the red-light-crashing driver & I emerged from our wreck this week with no apparent injuries. Thanks to you all again for the well-wishes.

Attention, Brides!

(Credit: clevercupcakes on Flickr)

No, this cupcake bouquet isn't from my wedding - back in my day, mashed potato bars were the trendy thing. I call do-over.

"Something will go wrong" must be the most frequently given wedding planning advice out there. It is also the most ignored.

Don't bother denying it. Whether you're contemplating marriage/ partnership/ spousaltude or already there, everyone in the Whole Wide World - possibly excepting those intimidatingly fraudulently perfect Cyborg Brides in Martha Stewart Weddings* - will tell you this. And every last one of you will smile sweetly and chirp about how down to Earth you are about this sort of thing and how you're just happy to be marrying the right person tra la la la la, just like I did. And, like me, not one of you will mean it, secretly believing that because this is ((prepare to gag)) YOUR BIG DAY**, surely things will in your case be supernaturally perfect.
*Don't let my snark mislead you - I may or may not have spent most of my engagement oogling MSW. And I may have sneaked a peek once or twice before I got engaged, but you'll never get me to admit it.
**Can we agree to exile this phrase off to its own astral island, in a galaxy far far away?

Instead of focusing on what could go wrong, enter this post from OH Mommy, the most recent addition to my Stylish Moms I'm Taking Detailed Notes From Although Not in a Stalkery Way blogroll, in which she ponders what she particularly liked about her own wedding and what she might change given the chance. Would that this post & others like it had been around back when I was planning my own wedding two years ago, when everything I read seemed to either emphasize how PERFECT and WONDERFUL and TYPE-A SCARY a bride's planning was, or to illustrate exactly how tragically one year's worth of party planning could go sideways. In other words, TERROR. You know, since your wedding day is the most important part of your marriage and all.

And in hopes it might somehow help those in the wedding**** planning way, I bring you five things I am happy to have done at my own nuptials & five I might change, with the following caveats:
(1) no way I can be unbiased here, so I can only hope I don't sound like more of a total brat than usual. For all I know, my guests clicked their heels with glee upon the cake cutting, so eager were they to leave my miserable festivities, but I fervently hope that's not the case; and
(2) some of my real life type friends read my nonsense here & are fully able to call shenanigans on me , as well they should although please don't tell me if that rumor about the guy peeing in the reception patio bushes is true because, yuck.
****Wedding with a capital "W", that is; I assume those of you clever enough to run off to the Justice of the Peace can just sit back and snigger at the rest of us.

Oh, and I'm going to generally say "I" and "me" here so as to not use the dread We, and not because of some sinister belief that it's all about the bride (insert joke here):

5 Things That I Wouldn't Change About My Wedding
1. Establishing my spending priorities early on - food/liquor and band - and budgeting around those items. Keeping focused on those made it easier to cut elsewhere when necessary.

2. Having my reception at a venue I was happy to support & where I felt comfortable with and confident in the staff. Knowing that a museum I loved was getting my exorbitant rental fee made the price much easier to accept.

3. Combining both my & the Anonymous Husband's religious traditions (we're from two different denominations) into our ceremony. This is the private sort of thing that likely only the AH & I noticed, but it was important to me us. Importantly - please, please consider your guests here if possible, recognizing it isn't always - this also didn't lengthen the ceremony.

4. I hate to mention the "M" word, but - paying & planning for everything largely ourselves. I won't pretend that I always felt grateful for this at the time - quite the reverse, actually. However, in retrospect, the result was a wedding that was very representative of the AH & me.

5. You'll mentally kick me in the shins if I say the groom, won't you? So . . . no mariachis. Yes, really. It's a South Texas thing, and this California girl is happy to claim home citizenship in this regard.

5 Wedding Decisions I'd Reconsider
1. Basing too much of my guest list on distant acquaintances from years ago, vs. people in my life now. There is no perfect science to this, but I worry that I imposed an obligation on some people who, in retrospect, I should never have expected to attend.

2. I might have had the wedding back in my superduperbeautimus southern California hometown instead. Long-distance planning seemed like an unmanageable feat, but I would have loved to show off home & been married in my old church.

3. Not trusting my instincts with the few vendors I hired despite my reservations. My wedding planner, who announced a career change 3 weeks before the wedding & basically disappeared, comes to mind.

4. Spending too much time/ $$ on save-the-dates and hotel blocks; most out-of-town guests either forgot this info by the time to reserve came around, or disregarded it and found their own reservations elsewhere.

5. Assigned reception seating. Oh, how I loved how those dainty little cards looked, but I suspect it cut against the more casual cocktail vibe we wanted. And it was a GINORMOUS pain in the ass to organize.

For those who are partnered up, what would you change? Wouldn't change? Any wedding planners in the house with opinions on this?

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Edited to Add: Thank you all so much for your well-wishes about my dumb car wreck. Where are my manners? Probably smooshed under the front hood of the great, likely late, Prettymobile. Sigh.

This Wouldn't Have Happened If I Were Properly Southern, Would It?

Got in a car wreck this morning . . .

Guy ran a red light, at rush-hour, at a busy intersection.

Then I mentally ran through the Hallelujah chorus of happy* since the other driver and I (1) walked away (2) seemingly unharmed, give or take some sore muscles and splintered nerves.
*I'm Episcopalian, so my version of this is entirely off-key and awkwardly whispered, with a sprinkling of gin over the chorus.

So is it very wrong of me that my first thought thereafter, as I stood quivering and slightly wild-eyed, surrounded by Austin's gallant emergency services heroes, was not about the apparent demise of my beloved Prettymobile (although = SUCKAGE), but:




. . . .



"AWESOME, this would be the day I leave the house without doing my hair or makeup!"

PS - If you're wondering whether this puts an end to yesterday's karmic taunting, well -um - yes. For now. Hmmph.

Tackling Monday, Texas Style

Why hello, Monday - you magnificent beast, you! Despite your very inherent Mondayness, it so happens that I'm having an excessively good day. Feeling Blessed with a capital "B". Happy, even. Before you and my readers become seriously alarmed - and rightly so - not to worry. Snark aside, I have friends, bloggy and otherwise, who could most seriously use an improved week. So perhaps you could let Tuesday know, like, to lighten up a bit on them. And solve this recession and create a few jobs. Deal?

Speaking of happy - brace yourself for the sweeping transition here - my brazenly challenging Monday to this karmic arm-wrestle is partially motivated by one of my favorite Christmas presents in recent memory, which I re-discovered tonight while rumbling around the kitchen (and creating run-on sentences, apparently):

The masking tape (covering the Pretty name) adds a delicately feminine touch, don't you think? It's like having my very own Texas family crest, but with bonus rum-and-coke features.

As native Texans and Southern types might recognize, this is an example of the all-important personalized party cup ("PPC"). Call this California girl naive, but upon walking into my first Texas wedding shower, filled as it was with cut-crystal and expensive finger foods and The Right Sort Of People, I wasn't sure what to make of the thoughtfully personalized, yet - you know - styrofoam** PPCs. Or how to fraudulently pass as The Right Sort Of People, but that's a different problem for another day.
*We have parties back home, naturally, but they usually involve plastics of an entirely different sort.
**Or reusable plastic - it's OK, Austin PC Police!

However, as the Anonymous Husband and I attended subsequent social events, I grew to appreciate the PPCs - to covet a set of my very own, actually. These came to strike me as yet another example of how Texans, to wildly overgeneralize, seem to just get parties right. Enter friends M, who included their own darling PPCs in their wedding out-of-towners' baskets, only to gift the AH and I with our very own set one year later.

So to you, Monday, I raise my very special PPC to you - as opposed to the customary daintily feminine yet emphatic gesture - and toast Texas and good friends with an equally good sense of humor. Try anything funny, however, and I'll start talking about those custom Koozies I had made for the AH's 30th birthday . . .

The Grace Experiment, Part 2

This is my weekly half-hearted attempt to set aside the snarkitude & list 5 things for which I'm grateful, with the happy yet unintended consequence of annoying blog friends like The Coconut Diaries.

1. Receiving a completely rad surprise present from a good friend. If I told you this gift had to do with my teenage vampire issues, you would probably stop reading and immediately delete me from your Google Reader, so this had absolutely nothing to do with that. Um.

2. Stumbling upon my excuse to post weekly HRH Pug photos, in blatantly derivative manner of those famous bloggers who regularly pull this sort of Hallmark move:

You're witnessing a daily ritual here at Pretty HQ, in which the HRH Pug embarks on an exhaustive search for the ideal rawhide hiding spot. Please note the somber, stress-filled expression in his buggy eyes. This is a deeply serious business.

3. Spending the weekend with the Anonymous Husband - given his lawyerly line o' work, I don't take this for granted - who voluntarily accompanied me on an emergency Anthro* shopping expedition and only whined once.
*The dress of impossible cuteness? So cute. So mine.

4. American holidays primarily dedicated to overeating and only tangentially related to football, particularly those followed by special episodes of "The Office" (wish you were here to watch, Shabby Princess!)

5. Kerbey Lane queso, and my new hometown in which this delectable foodstuff can be located.