How to Break Unpleasant News to Your Spouse

Important, Special Note: "Featured Blogger Friday" will continue next Friday with a supremely kick-arse blogger you're going to adore. No, really. This time I mean it. Pinky swear!

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They - you know, that mysterious "they" - say you should keep a marriage spontaneous in order to keep the interest going. However, in my near 3 - yes, almost THREE years, clearly approaching varsity team status! - years of Smug Marriage, I've determined that certain things just work better with a system.

Take, for example, the business of breaking potentially controversial news to your partner*. We've explored these murky waters previously, including this misadventure, but never have we plunged our Wellies (pink, of course) into the actual muck of how to broach these indelicate subjects.** This is exactly the sort of thing where all that relationship spontaneity we're supposed to be getting up to can simply wreck the conversation.

*Or can I just say spouse? Significant other? Can anyone suggest a generic term for this that doesn't make me spiritually barf just a little and/or set the PC Police into a lather?

**And yes, by "broach indelicate subjects" I do mean "covertly convince your spouse /boyfriend /partner type to do exactly as you suggest"

Of course, I recommend that you all assess which system works best for your spousely-type person; my carefully honed unpleasant and/or controversial news delivery system is as follows:

Step 1: Meet the Anonymous Husband out for a drink;

Step 2: Order round of drinks #1;

Step 3: Order drink #2 for the AH;

Step 4: Assess level of AH chattiness and general demeanor;

Step 5: Slip in unpleasant and/or controversial news in the most calm voice I can muster;

Step 6: Quickly follow up step #5 with another drinks order.

Alas, this system is not guaranteed to have a felicitous outcome, but my extensive, highly scientific research has shown this gives a heightened chance of success. Besides, if my system doesn't work, at least you've both had a few drinks to lessen the blow. Not to toot my own horn - except if I don't, who the Hell else will? - in the immortal words of a certain Miss Elle Woods, I find this to be ". . . a completely brilliant plan".

What's your system? Or are you a fan of the spontaneous approach?

The Texifornia Dance

Darlings! Thank you for the kind travel wishes. I've missed you so.

Well, sort of. Actually, I've been busy missing home - wondering where home really is, rather. There's a bad Motley Crue song in there somewhere, but I promise not to sing it and just get on to the point without resorting to leather pants or other hair metal accoutrement.*

*Just imagine a Grace Kelly lookalike with feathered 80s hair, though - this idea has legs (Aqua Net?).

I've been gone for a total of four years, but flying back to California still reminds me of seeing a (non-cretinous) ex again - for the span of a weekend, it can be deceptively easy to only see the lovely, pretty bits. Even the biggest clod or city can show promise for 48 hours, making it less simple to recall why it was you left in the first place. You were fine until you saw one another again, but oh, the first time back . . . and it doesn't help if home is the Geor*ge Clo*oney of cities. Throw in my friends that make my hometown, well, home, and it generally equals a long flight back to Texas to reflect on why the Anonymous Husband & I decided to make Texas home.

Am I (are we) happy in Austin, where I live now? Absolutely. It's a terrific city. Could I (we) be happy back home? Absolutely. It's a terrific city.

Can you call two places home? Or is home something that, geographically and spiritually, can only be in one place?

Gone Home

(Credit: PDphoto.org)

- PRETTY HQ TEMPORARY RELOCATION ANNOUNCEMENT -

I'm flying home for some much needed girl time and for an In-n-Out cheeseburger (Animal style, for the natives reading this), not necessarily in that order. Featured Blogger Friday will return next week, my creativity & sense of humor - well, one can only hope they reappear by then.

Have a wonderful weekend, my pets!

Fall Fashion: Ruffles Redux

Please forgive me for the lack of posting, dolls, but it has taken me a few days to kick the Kimberlys in their (perfectly straight, blindingly white) teeth. Frankly, I've needed a wee break from the blogosphere as well, much as I adore you.

Happily, I've rediscovered the surefire cure to that which ails me - getting Prettier Than Everyone Else those Kimberly bitches included. Maybe I've watched one too many Merchant-Ivory movies, but as I was flipping through the latest Spring '10 Fashion Week, I was thrilled to see that amidst the studs and masculine plaids flooding the stores this fall, the floaty, romantic look is very much still in style. The ruffle, that brassy VIP of the romantic look, remains a fashion mainstay.

Consider these from the Field Marshall of Fierce, Christian Siriano (my Invisible Internet Friends Paisley Petunia also noted these here) (credit all photos: Style.com):

And one from my other BFF designer of late, Marc Jacobs:

Although my mood has rebounded, my wallet has not - not to the point of affording high fashion, that is, as that would be less of a rebound and more of a giant, er, bound. In any event, I meandered over to my go-to source for romantic splurges, Anthropologie, and discovered ruffly everyday pieces in pretty fall colors and a closer proximity to my price range (credit all photos: Anthropologie):

"Swept Away Top" - look how the fluttery bow up top draws the eye up to the face

"Sunlit Grove Coat" - aka, "Pretty's early Christmas present if the Anonymous Husband catches this hint"; just check out the sweet ruffle & pleating on the back:

!

"Blooming Phlox Tank" - like wearing a rose garden, minus the, um, dirt and bugs and stuff

"Windflower Necklace"

"Cashmere Squiggle Scarf"

What do you think, fashionistas - fluttery and fun, or do I need to step away from the Austen and Bronte for a bit?

A Case of the Kimberlys

Like I mentioned last week, the Anonymous Husband & I played host to a group of good friends this weekend. You'll be happy to hear the Pretty HQ high maintenance prize did not go to our lovely, pregnant guest, but remained with its rightful owner (ie, me). After the last of them shuffled away - our typical food-and-wine soaked weekends leave one barely ambulatory, much less walking - I was left with a niggling case of the Kimberlys.

You know the "The Kimberlys" - it can include platonic girl crushes, but goes beyond that to a woman (or man - should we have "The Toms" for you boys?) who seems to embody whatever life goals you're seeking at the moment. I wouldn't exactly call it envy - that shade of green can simply wreck a girl's complexion - but I admit there is something of a jealous element to it. You know you shouldn't, but you can't help but compare your life to hers.

My original Kimberly - cleverly named "Kimberly" - was my grade school classmate with the shiny flaxen mane, amber eyes, and effortlessly sweet disposition whom the boys enthusiastically chased around the playground. Even her penmanship was irritatingly perfect. Of course, I was too busy beheading my Barbies and devouring books and challenging the boys to debates to get too worked up about this, but oh, for just one day in her (unscuffed, ladylike) shoes. . .

Nowadays, my Kimberlys have less to do with the boy chasing, and more to do with those Life Resume Points I feel like I'm falling short on - the girls, like my visiting friend, who seem to have that mystical love / work / pretty hair / baby balance figured out, and without much apparent effort at that. I wish her every happiness, of course, but I also wish she could somehow share the secret recipe.

Am I mature enough now to realize that no one, not even the Kimberlys, are as perfect as they seem? Sure, most of the time. And yet - every once in a while, I start comparing & feeling like if I could only have one day in Kimberly's (still unscuffed, and therefore still wholly unlike mine) shoes . . .

Anyone else know about the Kimberlys? The Toms? Who has this effect on you?

Edited to Add: Queen Bee Swain makes an excellent point in the comments which, deep in the throes of Kimberlyism as I was, I forgot to include - in my advanced years now, I do try and turn my Kimberlys into positive learning opportunities. "What is it about this Kimberly that's triggering the envy thing? What can I do to incorporate that into my life?" I'll usually pause to ask now.

Plus, I've secretly figured out how to get that Kimberly flaxen mane thing, so it's all good.

Featured Blogger Friday: "The Shabby Princess"

(Pretty Note: That hair! That necklace! Trying to stay focused and type here . . .)

You know how each group of close friends has the nice one? Of course, all of my besties share fabulous qualities, but generally speaking, there's the sweet one who glues us together, the mensch, the International Woman of Mystery, and the one who brings the champagne (ahem).

Today's featured blogger, the Shabby Princess, is the sweet one of my Invisible Internet Friends, and in fact is one of the first blogs I ever read. In fact, so kind and self-effacing is she that I hit her up to do this profile, because I think all of you need to be start reading her daily goodness right this very minute.

SP, a fellow California girl gone Texan, chronicles her life in Dallas with a keen eye for personal detail. Oh, and she's funny - very funny, so much so that I forgive her that strange running habit she & a number of you seem to have. The Fates have eluded our meeting for a Sprinkles cupcake to this point, but I'm hoping I'll meet SP on my next Dallas adventure.

Without further ado, the Shabby Princess . . .

Why she started blogging & her dream of being an author: Yes, my foray into blogging is directly related to my dreams of being an author. I started blogging because I was back at work after a several month hiatus while dealing with some family drama, and during my time away I wrote every day and would e-mail my friends little updates on my book, or little other things going on in my life. Things may not be as comical as they were then (which you can read about once I finish the dang book!), but, I still wanted to find a way to write often and share my silly life stories with friends (and had no idea how many Invisible Friends I would make along the way!).

About that novel she's working on: Yes, I am still working on it—which admittedly, is taking forever. I really need to refocus on get moving on it. It’s crazy how working a full time job, training for a marathon, being a wife and friend just kind of sucks the energy to work on my book right out of me. And I realize that everyone on this planet is crazed and overworked, which is why I’m utterly amazed by actual authors.

Honestly though, I am a bit scared to complete it—I have these schoolgirl fantasies about it being successful and it’s also very personal. But! But! I will finish. And it will be fabulous (naturally), and, of course it will be made into a movie. Obviously. And yes, these are my schoolgirl fantasies.

(Pretty Note: The excerpt she posted on her site a few months back was fantastic; I'm looking forward to saying I knew SP back when, right before she became a famous author . . . )

Her blogging inspirations: I find Jennslyvania to be absolutely hilarious—I want to be her when I grow up (not kidding). I strive to have just a fraction of her wit, alas, I fall short.

[Pretty Note: SP wrote something nice about me here, but in a rare show of pseudo-modesty, I'm editing it out - thank you, SP!]

I love A Duck in Her Pond—she is fabulous writing inspiration (and a dang whirlwind, I might add!). (Pretty Note: another one of my favorites & a former FFB'er!)

I love the colors and joy that is found in Nie Nie Dialogues and love her ability to add charm and love to daily events and that even through such adversity (she and her husband were in a terrible plane crash a year ago) she maintains her love and joy—which to me, is inspiring! Plus, she always dresses so gosh darn cute.

What she misses most & least about our glorious home state: Oh, California, I miss it so much. Alright, cheap answer? In-N-Out. There is just nothing like a good In-N-Out burger and these hot, fresh fries… I’m drooling. Real honest deep and mushy answer? My family, my friends, the beach (!), and the fabulous boutiques and small restaurants that dot the state. And goodness me, lately I have really been missing seafood! My dad lived two miles from the beach (yes, I brag) and there is honestly nothing like fresh seafood. And bread bowls of chowder on a foggy beach day. Ohh, I’m getting misty eyed.

What don’t I miss? I don’t miss the weekends—we lived in a very touristy area, so the weekends were always a beating because our quaint little beach village got turned into a huge city overnight. And I don’t miss the cost. I hear sales tax has gone up to pass what it is here—9…%?! Or something like that. Yikes.

What she likes most & least about Texas: I love the people. I love the sense of community. Everyone seems to know everyone and everyone looks out for one another. I love the hot summers and the very cold winters—we got snow last year! And the shopping. Gotta love the shopping. And fireflies in the summer—honestly, that might be my greatest joy once the hot weather rolls around.

What I don’t like is how commercial it all is—well, not all, but, hi, I live in Dallas. It’s a very strange little world with the big houses and the fancy cars and the Neimans. I know this may sound weird coming from a California girl, but, honestly, in California, things are just much more relaxed and laid back—even the big houses and fancy cars! It was and still is a bit overwhelming.

More about that darling husband of hers & how they met:

(Pretty Note: Seriously, how cute are they? And can I have some of SP's always fun accessories?)

We met at work, while I was at home working during the summer after my first year of college. I had just gone through a heinous breakup and had basically sworn off all men—unless of course Johnny Depp came calling (he didn’t).

My best friend (who I worked with) knew that my now husband was also newly single and suggested we “hang out” at some point—her exact words were “I’m not saying you need to marry the guy, but, you need to get out of the house”—apparently, watching Chocolat and Under the Tuscan Sun, laying by the pool and sleeping were not exciting things in her mind (she’s wrong). Did I mention that we hated each other? I thought he was an arrogant a$* and he thought I was a sassy little brat. But, being as we were both single and apparently, not happy, we gave each other a second chance.

After a few weeks of him stopping by our office to chat with her (lies!) she got the fabulous idea to leave my phone number on his car. After hours of my screaming at her like a child (and embarrassed child, I might add) I finally let it go, figuring that if he called, great, if not, I still had Captain Jack. He called. That night. We went to dinner. We got home at 2 AM. We were engaged two months later. And had a fabulous summer wedding nine months after that. It has later come out that my best friend and his mother played a role in this whole thing—his mother encouraging him to stop by to visit my BFF, and her dropping hints while I was out of the office. Those sneaky match makers….

Where she wants to be in five years, personally & professionally: Gosh, five years—for a millisecond that seems so far off, but, it’s not really! Yikes! OK: dream scenario: on a book tour with several little ones in tow, splitting my time between a fabulous beach house and a mountain retreat, complete with huskies (oh there’s my love of all things four legged) and a dog sled…. But, um, reality check, please?

In five years I hope to be a good place with “me”—hopefully with several marathons under my belt (at least two since that’s how many I plan on running in the next seven months) and a kiddo or two under my arm. Professionally, I hope to at least have some manuscripts in the works (but honestly, one published book would be amazing). In terms of blogging, I hope I still have wonderful readers and that I will have been able to meet many other bloggers—I’ve been blessed to make so many fabulous online friends and many have become real life friends—it’s so fun! I hope that I can still make people laugh—and that I still have things to laugh at (although I don’t see that changing anytime soon—I managed to walk into the doorframe of my bosses office five minutes ago—seriously, how am I alive?)!

Geographically? Gosh! I looove Texas and I always knew I’d live in the South—my heart has always been set on Georgia, but, the husband wouldn’t go for it. We debate packing up and moving to Colorado (we both adore it), or living by a lake in the Hill Country (doesn’t everyone?). But, time will tell. I’m a pretty big fan of our current home, and have visions of being forcefully dragged out of there if we ever had to move. Man, I’m pretty demanding five years out, aren’t I?

What she wants a new reader to know before clicking over to her blog: Ohmygosh, please know that I don’t take myself too seriously. I spout about royalty (mainly because I was pretty much born in the wrong country at the wrong time—and I will prove that my backwoods Kentucky bootleggin’ ancestors had royal roots, I will!), and being a ‘princess in training’, but really, I’m a simple hippy dippy trippy (as Stacey London would say) beach bum at heart.

I want to make people laugh—even at my expense. I rarely get into overly deep political type topics, not because I don’t care, but, because, I want people to come to my blog and get a giggle—there are plenty of other academic blogs out there—mine just isn’t one of them. And I don’t try to be—that’s not what you’ll find at The Shabby Princess. If you like shoes, chocolate, men with accents, a good shopping trip (at Target or otherwise) and good TV, we’ll get along just fine!

(Pretty Note: It's like I wrote this myself - see why she's one of my favorite Invisible Internet Friends?)

Thank you so much, SP!

Readers, you've heard the Princess' orders - please speed over to her blog immediately here and follow her Twitter feed here.

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Darlings! So you want to be one of my Feature Friday bloggers? Please review my deeply meaningful guidelines here & drop me a comment, including your email address. Please bear with me if it takes me a while to get back to you; my ability to procrastinate should not be underrated. Thank you for your interest!

Martha Stewart Living Never Covered This

One of my favorite parts of Being a Grown Up is owning a home - or more specifically, having guest room accommodations for friends visiting said home that don't involve a dubiously stained futon reeking faintly of last week's kegger.

Since moving into our current Pretty HQ, the Anonymous Husband and I have been fortunate enough to have a number of friends stay with us - singletons, Smug Marrieds, and (in increasing numbers) the nearly divorced* - but our upcoming guests are throwing us for a bit of a loop. For the first time, two of our upcoming guests are pregnant.

*It should be noted that visiting Pretty HQ does not appear to be linked to divorce rates, although I cannot vouch for what it might do for sanity rates.

Why is this at all noteworthy, you ask? That is a valid question, but I suspect some of the also childless amongst you may understand. It isn't that we're at all upset that they're coming - on the contrary, these are two of my closest friends - but rather, we're confused about how to be good hosts to guests who are "in the family way."

Consider the following exchange between the AH & me:

AH: "Where should we take everyone for dinner on Saturday night?"

Me: "I dunno - I'd say wherever they serve wine, but remember, Friend X is pregnant. So sushi is out, and . . . uh . . ."

(A silence descends as blank stares abound)

AH: "Uh, I think we just go wherever she tells us to, right? Right."

At the root of our befuddlement with the weekend, I suspect, is that "life stages" transition groups of friends tend to go through. We've watched close friends get married and, unfortunately, get un-married, but watching them have babies will be a first. What's going to happen to them? What's going to happen to us, when it's our turn?

And when all else fails, just do what the pregnant lady says, right?

Pretty, Snarky Paper

For those days when I'm pretending to be a polite member of society, I have the requisite Good Paper. You know the drill - personalized notecards with the hefty paper weight, name prominently displayed in an inoffensive font*, of the sort that haughtily whispers, "Not only am I a responsible grown-up, but I don't (usually) get kicked out of Junior League meetings either."

*I never thought a font could be offensive until the Ed Hardy phenomenon. Who knew douchebags came with their own typeface?

The other days, the ones with friends where I can drop the adult act much to their dismay, call for a different sort of Good Paper. One such friend / reader has a birthday coming up, and so, armed with some web tips from favorite bloggers & paper gurus Maggie & Kate, I've set to the interwebs to find the appropriate, non-Hallmark-y missive.

Thanks to that alternate universe of crafty goodness known as Etsy, I bring you my favorites so far, the "Bittersweet Ink" line from Spark Stationery:

Take that, generic greeting cards - and you, Ed Hardy, just because.

Pretty Travels, Helsinki Ed.

Happy Labor Day to my American darlings out there! In my lone act of labor this weekend, and in an attempt to distract myself from handbag hari kari, I'm bringing you even more photos from my not-so- recent Baltic getaway.

We sailed from St. Petersburg to the idyllic seaside capital of Finland, Helsinki. Upon reaching port, we took off to hike around the countryside . . .

This is an unretouched photo; the sky really was that blue, and the grass that verdant. Finland was only recently urbanized, and so the Finns have strong ties to countryside retreats such as this. Given the natural beauty, it's easy to see why.

A view from our hike, which ended with a typically Finnish sauna (a Finnish word, by the way).

After our hike, we returned to meander around Helsinki. More than 20% of the country's only 5 million people live in the area; the laid-back layout and feel of the capital city reflects this recent urbanization.

We rambled along the port and stumbled across this farmer's market, a colorful mix of locals, tourists, and of course delicious looking produce . . .

A Russian Orthodox church & good representation of the melting pot of cultures and languages that comprise Finland. The country was occupied by Sweden for hundreds of years, followed by Russia, and the influence of those cultures was evident throughout. Note the street signs; all were in both Finnish and Swedish, the two official languages of Finland.

Some countries top their buildings with menacing gargoyles; in Finland, it's . . . a fuzzy little bear. This symbolized the remarkably safe, peaceful feel of the town to me; although this is a typical feeling in the orderly Nordic cities I've visited, never have I felt so safe wandering around a foreign (or US, for that matter) city.

Next - and final, pinky swear! - stop, Stockholm . . .

For previous posts in this travel series:

- St. Petersburg Ed.

- Travel, General Q & A

- Copehagen & Tallinn

- From Russia with Love

Featured Blogger Friday: "Inner Workings of a Real-Life Barbie Doll"

I admit it. The first time I visited New York City, as a law student high on "Sex & the City" fantasies, I was overwhelmed. The second time, I developed a serious crush on the city, and it's one that has only grown when I've been fortunate enough to visit since.

Enter Shari, aka "Dollface" and her Carrie Bradshaw-esque take on the city, "Inner Workings of a Real Life Barbie Doll". A corporate event planner by day, Shari gives us a fun-filled insider's take on the glam Manhattan life, from her shopping finds to moving into a (too small) apartment with her boyfriend, Jared, and their handsome Pug, Thunder.

Cue the "New York, New York" to play in the background, and let's go . . .

Why she started blogging: Just one day last winter I was riding the subway with a bunch of typical NY fashionistas. I had the urge to write. I started up my own blog and wrote about winter fashion trends.

I wasn't too aware of the whole blogger scene so for about a month I just wrote with no followers except my best friend, Marisa, and Jared. NYC HIT (Pretty Note: another fab Feature Friday Blogger) was one of the first people to follow my blog and "spread the word". I was very grateful. I cannot begin to express how happy it is that I started with zero followers and are now reaching 200 of them.

The story behind her blog title: My whole life I have been treated as a Barbie doll. My mother used to enroll me in beauty pageants, theater productions and I became a debutante in the year 2000. Past boyfriends even would call me "dollface" or "babydoll" and one even referred to me as his "porcelain doll". I think it is an alias that has sort of stuck with me over the years. The inner workings are more as an insider view to me, knowing that there is much more than my exterior.

Her blog inspiration: Jared & Thunder would be too obvious. Just about anything. I usually start pondering blog topics on my way to work riding the subway. There is such an eclectic group of people in Manhattan that it gives me oodles of topics to discuss when I sit down to type. My everyday life comes into play a lot. I talk about TV shows, songs, movies, art work, work situations, friends and family sometimes. Anything that is in my head is on the screen. I am very honest.

Does the darling boyfriend read her blog? Of course! He has commented a few times on certain posts. He is the first one to call me after I hit submit and let me know there wasn’t enough mention of how much I love him. Haha. He is a bit "blog-narcissistic" if you ask me :) I plan on having him do a guest post at some point. He is more than thrilled to support me and follow along. "Whatever makes you happy" is something he strongly believes in.

(Pretty Note: Raise your hand if you now want to ask her, "How the heck do you get your man that interested in your blog?" Just me?)

Tell us non-natives something we don't know about New York: Sex and the City and other NY shows have always made me want to live in Manhattan. It's this feeling you get when you walk out of your over-priced apartment that everything is amazing. The people are strange yet familiar, the food is delicious yet always changing, and the experiences you have are priceless. I can sit for hours on my couch starting out of my window at night at the Manhattan skyline and just breathe. NYC is big to others but home to me.

The last 3 albums she downloaded: I just downloaded from I-tunes the whole album of Colbie Caillat, The Fray and Britney Spears. I like anything from hip-hop to country, from emo to punk, and from classic rock to top 40's. Lately I have had on repeat "Lucky in Love" by Jason Mraz featuring Colbie. It reminds me of Jared and me.

What she wants a new reader to know before clicking over to her blog: Be prepared to be engaging in superficial chatter one day and deep, introspective talk another. This is not a hate blog, it is purely fun-loving and hopefully inspirational. Besides all of that, I am your friend, your fellow bloggie, I am an ear to listen. What you "see" is what you get.

Why life as a Smug Pug Owner is the best: (Pretty Note: no self-interest in how I phrased that question at all . . .) I never met another Pug before I met Thunder. In fact, I didn’t love him on sight. I didn’t want to be "that" girl that loved the dog because the man loved him. Thunder grew on me and now I can't picture my life without him. That smushy face and curly tail make me smile on a daily basis. Even when he gets into trouble, constantly, I still love him. When I am upset he licks the back of my heels. When I walk in the door he jumps up and kisses me. He is always photogenic and always making our lives complete.

We would get a second one if our building allowed it. But in the future we hope to have a baby girl Pug and name her Olivia. (Pretty Note: I actually want one named Olive - great minds!)

Thank you, Dollface! Darlings, please hustle your cute little tushies over to "Inner Workings of a Real Life Barbie Doll" here.

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My flock, if you would like nothing better than to be a Feature Friday blogger - it's kind of like the Oscars, minus the swag bags, couture, and prestige - please review my guidelines here and leave me a comment including your email address. Please bear with me if it takes me a while to get back to you. Thanks for reading & your interest!

The Handbag's Lament

(Subtitle: "Oh, good - she's being frivolous again!")

Oh, Muse - there you are /

Winking at me from afar /

Price beyond mortgage

(Photo credit: Saks. Haiku credit: me, unfortunately)

Once upon a handbag, many months ago, a certain lady of royal delusions discerning tastes spotted a certain YSL purse from across her computer screen. It was love at first ladylike handle.

I she saw, she schemed, she saved, until one blissful retail day she spotted the Muse (so perfectly named!) at her favorite store, in the desired neutral, fall-appropriate color. The Heavenly trumpets sounded, her AmEx began its anticipatory dance in her wallet, and all was right with the world until . . .

. . . the auto insurance bill arrived. And the mortgage one. Oh, and then she remembered the upcoming student loan payment.

This handbag hussy of five years ago? Would have found a way to the purse & the loan payments. By extended payments or some other voodoo magic, I would have pondered, plotted, and jammed all of the above into my budget - if not my savings account (foreshadowing!).

This handbag hussy now? (Begrudgingly) prefers to comfortably pay my bills. And have a savings account. And give money to, you know, other worthy causes. And lo, this accessories affair shall continue from afar for now.* I may be getting older, but some of that wisdom my family taught me just might be sinking in. If only the handbag crushes would stop nearly sinking me . . .

*PC Police Disclaimer: Yes, yes - the so-called "sacrifice" of a handbag is at best a silly sort of problem to be moaning about, particularly when people are struggling merely to pay their bills. I acknowledge that I'm blessed and lucky. Please just take this with the grain of (bad) haiku with which it is intended.

The Occasional, Yet Unfortunately Necessary, Sappy Post

Yesterday marked the AH's & my "date-a-versary". Five years since our first one.

You can stop laughing now.

As much as I'm usually allergic to obvious sentiment, I secretly enjoy that the AH & I have our little days, the ones that are just ours, the ones for which Hallmark hasn't made a card yet. It may be silly, it may be excessive, but it is ours. Plus, you know me well enough by know than to think I'd pass on a nice dinner opportunity.

Before I make an irreversible turn down Smug Married Lane, let me say this - I'm not claiming that my Pretty marriage is perfect. From Dog Poop Paralysis to actually serious issues, we deal with the same highs and lows as any couple.

Some bloggers believe that a blogger isn't being authentic unless his or her posts detail each and every "real" marital detail, both the good and the bad. While I like reading some such blogs, that isn't what I do here. Call me delusional, call me in denial, but this is my e-happy-place, a spot where I mostly like to memorialize the good*, marriage included.

*With the occasional mullet exception because, you know, MULLETS.

So if you'll forgive me the uncharacteristic lack of snark today, I'm feeling grateful. There aren't many areas in which I don't second guess myself - my greatest hits include the city I left behind, the colleges I attended, the career path I've taken, (and apparently things starting with the letter "C") - but my marriage is one area in which I don't look back. Not to say it will always be thus - I'm guessing it won't, but just for today, I am happy.