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Tiny Dancer

Ode to pictures galore... we are NOT camera virgins. As the weekend swiftly dwindles away following a saga of dinner parties, Christmas tree mishaps (ornament wars), and that old familiar work hard, play harder mantra… my narcissistic denim tendencies beckoned like the call of the wild. In the very nearly retirement section of my closet they loitered, brooding in uncharacteristic glamour. But with a downcast feeling that pulls you from reverie… bluntly, I knew nothing else compared to the resurgence of my second-skin blue jean baby . And about a week (or more) ago, I was pleasantly taken aback when the lovely Carrie over at Bare Style sent an e-mail and subsequently mailed over a bundle of (unexpected) amazing goodies from her store Bare Accessories . Launching a slightly embarrassing (I won’t lie) celebratory dance, it took all of a minute for the clutch, bangle, and AA leggings to baptize themselves among the legion. Obviously fated to join the ranks of my closet, I can’t wait to tak...
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Home for the Holidays

Santa Baby, I realize you've been particularly busy, what with the elves bogarting the majority of your time with notorious marshmallow fights and the sudden reinstatement of hot chocolate… not to mention those other precarious activities involving one sequestered sleigh bell. Let’s be honest, Dondor throwing his back out during that impromptu flight simulation and the sticky candy cane incident with Blitzen no one’s talking about, certainly has caused a rift in your mission-provoking schedule. But if you'd please FedEx/USPS/UPS the following items to my Christmas tree this holiday season, I’d genuinely appreciate it. Obviously, I've been exceptionally bad… I mean good and only moderately naughty this year... a few misdemeanors, bar fights, F*** you slip-ups, madcap coffee addictions, and obsessive online shopping-revelry certainly doesn ’t warrant a stocking full of coal, right. Anyway, Santa, without appearing overzealous, there’s no time like the present to m...
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Toy Soldiers

Like a shadow, some things lurk. And much as the weekend, mutually quiet and eventful… nothing and everything makes sense when draped in funky sugarplum fairies and twinkling lights. Not our best-laid plan, we being the blithe adventuresses of the family, joined ranks with all those holiday cheermeisters and staunchly faced a teeming shopping blitz. Inextricably, the scheming afternoon wrath of cart pushers, window peekers, road ragers, and zany bargain seekers , was one such lurking moment. A harmonic hysteria of present-persuasion and shopping grandeur, I muddled through an amusing/frightening mirage, loving the extreme pandemonium… no matter how catawampus it all appeared. But like some freakish optical illusion climaxing a jolly North Pole sequel, its inevitable dusk till dawn tradition leaves me feeble-minded. So, while hunting holiday gifts and embracing yuletide paradise, I couldn’t help wondering… are we gluttons for punishment or just eager to come out and play. Who knows, but...
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