It’s no secret that I love fashion and all it encompasses—clothing, accessories, purses, and shoes; I love it all. I live for expressing myself through dress, mixing tried and true favorites with the latest trends. Fashion, to me, is art. I nearly cried this morning when I realized a member of my trusted fashion arsenal had come down with a terminal illness and would not be with us much longer.
It’s always sad when your favorite anything begins to show its age. I shudder when my favorite wool sweater begins to pill uncontrollably or my favorite white tee starts to turn an embarrassing shade of yellow. My fear is that a replacement for this ‘perfect’ item will never be found and nothing can ever compare to the relationship this ideal article and I once had. Our glory days, as they are called, have ended.
While t-shirts and sweaters can easily be replaced by newer models with minimal impact, some wardrobe staples can prove to be truly irreplaceable. A pair of jeans, regardless of your size or body shape, is hard to find. Even we skinny girls struggle to find denim to accentuate our lack of curves and bony butts. This is why I snatch up a perfectly fitting pair without question, because I intuitively know I will regret my horrid decision if I do not. Oddly, some of my favorite and best-fitting jeans are the least expensive pairs I have snatched up at fine retailers like Target and Forever 21.
My most favorite and comfortable pair, purchased my junior year of college from one such store, is beginning to show its age from the excessive wear and love I have heaped upon it. If it was a college football player, it would be red shirted for the coming season and will hopefully return after some intense physical therapy. Deep down, like a veteran coach, I know things will never be the same. (Editors note: I cannot believe I am using sports analogies in reference to clothing. My husband is really starting to rub off on me.)
I liken a pair of jeans to the way we look at our grandparents or children—in our eyes, they will always be just as we imagine them from our fondest memories. We look past what the hands of time have done and see them just as we remembered—perfect and untouched. My beloved jeans are no different. I consciously choose to look past the ever-thinning knees, frayed seams, mangled hems, and see the denim beauties just as they were back in ‘03. They have always fit like a dream, with their dreamy cotton blend with just a kiss of stretch that somehow manages to make it look like I actually have a butt. They are perfect with a cute pair of ballet flats, my old New Balance sneakers or a sky-high heel. I have dressed them up, dressed them down and thrown them in the wash more times than I can count. The jeans and I have been through a lot.
Every article of clothing you own contains memories. Sometimes, I imagine myself touching an article of clothing and magically being whisked away to all the moments it remembers and the stories it has to tell. For every article I own, I always remember when I purchased it, whether I splurged on an, “I deserve this” piece or snatched up something truly fab on clearance. I can clearly recall every article of clothing worn during the defining moments of my life. I’ll always remember the beautiful blue backless dress I wore to prom, the old maroon t-shirt Adam was wearing when we met, the LBD that always looks good—they were there with me through the ups and downs of it all. These are the moments of your life, and clothing is always there to guide you through them. Think about it—how many times do you change before leaving for work each morning? And how many times do you look in your closet and whine, “I have nothing to wear!” And, of course, how many times do you call friends to ask them what they’re wearing to an event in the hopes that if you look like an idiot, at least you’ll look like idiots together? As for me, the answers are: at least five, twice a week and more often than I’d like to admit.
Some people have a photographic memory. I have a fashion memory. I can tell you what I wore to just about any event in my life. I can even tell you who saw what outfit and when, in the hopes that I will avoid wearing it twice in a short span of time. I can even tell you what YOU were wearing to those same events and if you are wearing something new, I will probably notice that, too. I am not judging, I am just obsessively observant.
Some day, my jeans will become unwearable and I will have to permanently retire them from the starting lineup. That will be a sad day and I will have an incredibly hard time letting go, this I know for sure. Some other hot, young, fresh pair of jeans will step in to replace them and they will become yesterday’s news. They may leave me, but I will not forget the moments we shared. Saying goodbye is always so hard.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Cruising
I do not enjoy driving. I have never enjoyed driving and I probably never will. It’s not that I’m a bad driver (although Adam wouldn’t agree) I’m just entirely too uptight to find enjoyment in the driving experience.
Other than rolling down the windows on a nice day and listening to awesome music, one of the only things I enjoy while driving is cruise control. To me, it is one of the world’s best inventions. What is cooler than getting in your car, hitting a button and only having to worry about steering and staying on the road? Instead of three tasks, you are instantly upgraded to being required to perform just two. Your brain and foot get a brief rest from juggling these items and you can relax and enjoy the ride.
Cruise control, however, is not without its faults. It quickly falls down the “best invention ever” list when some jerk in front of you slows down and refuses to get over and then you have to hit the brake and the process of setting cruise control starts all over again. It is not a perfect system by any means, which makes it awesome about 40% of the time.
Its near-perfection comes with moving the concept of cruise control to another task, allowing it to run its course without interruption. My favorite occasion to throw on the cruise control is while running. As a creature of habit, I run and walk the same four or five paths day in and day out. This is something I never tire of—ever. I am thrilled to take the same roads, see the same sights and nestle in the comfort of familiarity that the same path provides. My feet know the way—they have been here before. I throw on the cruise and let my brain drift to whatever bothers, intrigues or ails me at the moment.
Some of my best work and my most profound thoughts are the product of a cruise-control induced run. I consider ideas and mull over plans I do not have time to contemplate when I’m juggling the multiple tasks of daily life. There is nothing else to consider during this time—it is just me and the road. Skipping a run or foregoing a walk with the dog always comes back to bite me, no matter what I tell myself from a comfortable spot on the couch. I’m calmer, more focused and much more pleasant to be around after I’ve given myself 30 minutes of time to exercise my mind and body. The same goes with the dog—she is a different pooch without our evening runs to calm her.
My exclusive use of “running cruise control” often offends people I know who think I’ve chosen to ignore them while I’m out for a run. Truth is, I gave up a long time ago on attempting to identify those who wave, honk or yell from vehicles going 35 miles an hour. More often than not, they have already passed by the time I realize who they actually are, which really defeats the purpose of being friendly. Or, I automatically wave, only to realize that I do not know the old creepy person I just warmly greeted. So, for the sake of being consistent, I just ignore everyone who passes in a car. I go off into my own little world, a place where I can’t hear car honks or random things screamed by teenagers. My own personal cruise control drowns it all out.
When my cruise control cannot drown out aches and pains of a trying event, such as the triathlon Adam and I completed on Sunday, I resort to what I call my “crazy phrase.” I chant this mantra repeatedly, like a crazy person, until the event is over. I held out as long as I could, but finally resorted to my crazy phrase as my body began to rebel against the 4-miler I ran after completing a 3-mile canoe and 15 mile bike ride on Sunday. I think every occasion deserves a new phrase—the half marathon crazy phrase is “Pain is temporary.” The triathlon, though, required a different vibe—“You’re almost there,” because, well, you are.
Other than rolling down the windows on a nice day and listening to awesome music, one of the only things I enjoy while driving is cruise control. To me, it is one of the world’s best inventions. What is cooler than getting in your car, hitting a button and only having to worry about steering and staying on the road? Instead of three tasks, you are instantly upgraded to being required to perform just two. Your brain and foot get a brief rest from juggling these items and you can relax and enjoy the ride.
Cruise control, however, is not without its faults. It quickly falls down the “best invention ever” list when some jerk in front of you slows down and refuses to get over and then you have to hit the brake and the process of setting cruise control starts all over again. It is not a perfect system by any means, which makes it awesome about 40% of the time.
Its near-perfection comes with moving the concept of cruise control to another task, allowing it to run its course without interruption. My favorite occasion to throw on the cruise control is while running. As a creature of habit, I run and walk the same four or five paths day in and day out. This is something I never tire of—ever. I am thrilled to take the same roads, see the same sights and nestle in the comfort of familiarity that the same path provides. My feet know the way—they have been here before. I throw on the cruise and let my brain drift to whatever bothers, intrigues or ails me at the moment.
Some of my best work and my most profound thoughts are the product of a cruise-control induced run. I consider ideas and mull over plans I do not have time to contemplate when I’m juggling the multiple tasks of daily life. There is nothing else to consider during this time—it is just me and the road. Skipping a run or foregoing a walk with the dog always comes back to bite me, no matter what I tell myself from a comfortable spot on the couch. I’m calmer, more focused and much more pleasant to be around after I’ve given myself 30 minutes of time to exercise my mind and body. The same goes with the dog—she is a different pooch without our evening runs to calm her.
My exclusive use of “running cruise control” often offends people I know who think I’ve chosen to ignore them while I’m out for a run. Truth is, I gave up a long time ago on attempting to identify those who wave, honk or yell from vehicles going 35 miles an hour. More often than not, they have already passed by the time I realize who they actually are, which really defeats the purpose of being friendly. Or, I automatically wave, only to realize that I do not know the old creepy person I just warmly greeted. So, for the sake of being consistent, I just ignore everyone who passes in a car. I go off into my own little world, a place where I can’t hear car honks or random things screamed by teenagers. My own personal cruise control drowns it all out.
When my cruise control cannot drown out aches and pains of a trying event, such as the triathlon Adam and I completed on Sunday, I resort to what I call my “crazy phrase.” I chant this mantra repeatedly, like a crazy person, until the event is over. I held out as long as I could, but finally resorted to my crazy phrase as my body began to rebel against the 4-miler I ran after completing a 3-mile canoe and 15 mile bike ride on Sunday. I think every occasion deserves a new phrase—the half marathon crazy phrase is “Pain is temporary.” The triathlon, though, required a different vibe—“You’re almost there,” because, well, you are.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Everything I know, I learned from my dog
A while back, there was an e-mail going around on this subject. After scouring the 955 items in my deleted items folder, I am unable to locate it so I’ve attempted to recreate it instead. The more time I spend around my dog, the more I realize how true the concept really is. In no particular order, here is what my Rudi has taught me.
Unconditional love: No matter how many times I yell or get upset at my dog, she loves me just as much before the yelling as she did before. In fact, she goes out of her way to love me MORE afterwards, perhaps to make up for the wrongdoings that transpired beforehand.
Boredom now, regret later: She knows she is not supposed to chew on Adam’s hats, wallet, shoes, batteries and the remote control, but boredom often gets the best of my Rudi dog. As soon as I walk in the door after her run-in with any of the afore mentioned objects, Rudi attempts to get her body as close to the floor as possible. It’s either an attempt to hide or blend in the with the carpet (considering it’s covered in her hair, that’s not too much of a stretch). She knows it’s wrong, but it just tasted so good at the time.
Sharing is caring: No matter what I’m eating or where I’m eating it, Rudi knows there is some noshing going on, and she wants in on the action. I could be eating moldy spinach and Rudi would sit patiently, hoping I drop a strand or two so she can have some, too. She once ate an entire turkey sandwich left unattended, which really throws my idea of ‘sharing’ out the window.
The best toys in life are cheap: Rudi’s favorite toys are the following: old towels tied in a knot, old t-shirts tied in a knot and empty boxes. I have purchased nice, expensive toys and she has absolutely no interest in them. Those costly things are for the birds, she would rather have the good stuff. By “good stuff” I mean cheap hand-me-downs that were headed for the garbage.
The two most exciting things in life: Going on a walk and coming home. Rudi is completely and utterly inconsolable when she thinks she is going on a walk—it’s insane. As soon as I have my shoes on and walk toward the door, she knows what’s about to happen. She physically cannot sit still, cannot stop whining and acts like she’s going to die if she doesn’t go outside right now. Once we’re outside, it’s as if nothing ever happened. The arrival home of Adam or I is probably the second most exciting occurrence, filled with excitement and plenty of incessant jumping.
Always kiss me goodnight: Rudi usually won’t go to sleep until she has received a good night kiss from Adam. When Adam says, “Rudi, kiss,” she knows it’s time to hit the hay. She usually sits patiently by his side of the bed until she’s gotten her kiss, then moseys over to her bed at the end of our bed and drifts off to sleep. Of course, not before letting out a long sigh like she has had a long day at the office.
Nothing beats a good nap: Dogs sleep and nap—a lot. They seem to have no problem resting, lounging and being comfortable in general. It renews them and gives them the energy to chew on the remote control when you leave.
Work hard, play hard: After a long day of napping, Rudi grabs her old towel tied in a knot and is ready for some quality tug-of-war. If you aren’t interested in playing, that’s just too bad. She will whine, bark and make this annoying whistle through her nostrils until you give in to her will. And you will give in. If that doesn’t work, she’ll run frenzied, figure-8 circles around the dining room and coffee table until she’s panting uncontrollably. This is what we like to call “psycho dog.”
Be wary of loud noises and bright lights: Rudi loves everything except the vacuum cleaner. Her ears perk up when the vacuum rolls out of the closet and she stares skeptically at the vacuum as it draws closer. She vigilantly sits until her tolerance is reached and the vacuum is 2 feet from her body and then runs to the opposite side of the room as if being chased.
Unconditional love: No matter how many times I yell or get upset at my dog, she loves me just as much before the yelling as she did before. In fact, she goes out of her way to love me MORE afterwards, perhaps to make up for the wrongdoings that transpired beforehand.
Boredom now, regret later: She knows she is not supposed to chew on Adam’s hats, wallet, shoes, batteries and the remote control, but boredom often gets the best of my Rudi dog. As soon as I walk in the door after her run-in with any of the afore mentioned objects, Rudi attempts to get her body as close to the floor as possible. It’s either an attempt to hide or blend in the with the carpet (considering it’s covered in her hair, that’s not too much of a stretch). She knows it’s wrong, but it just tasted so good at the time.
Sharing is caring: No matter what I’m eating or where I’m eating it, Rudi knows there is some noshing going on, and she wants in on the action. I could be eating moldy spinach and Rudi would sit patiently, hoping I drop a strand or two so she can have some, too. She once ate an entire turkey sandwich left unattended, which really throws my idea of ‘sharing’ out the window.
The best toys in life are cheap: Rudi’s favorite toys are the following: old towels tied in a knot, old t-shirts tied in a knot and empty boxes. I have purchased nice, expensive toys and she has absolutely no interest in them. Those costly things are for the birds, she would rather have the good stuff. By “good stuff” I mean cheap hand-me-downs that were headed for the garbage.
The two most exciting things in life: Going on a walk and coming home. Rudi is completely and utterly inconsolable when she thinks she is going on a walk—it’s insane. As soon as I have my shoes on and walk toward the door, she knows what’s about to happen. She physically cannot sit still, cannot stop whining and acts like she’s going to die if she doesn’t go outside right now. Once we’re outside, it’s as if nothing ever happened. The arrival home of Adam or I is probably the second most exciting occurrence, filled with excitement and plenty of incessant jumping.
Always kiss me goodnight: Rudi usually won’t go to sleep until she has received a good night kiss from Adam. When Adam says, “Rudi, kiss,” she knows it’s time to hit the hay. She usually sits patiently by his side of the bed until she’s gotten her kiss, then moseys over to her bed at the end of our bed and drifts off to sleep. Of course, not before letting out a long sigh like she has had a long day at the office.
Nothing beats a good nap: Dogs sleep and nap—a lot. They seem to have no problem resting, lounging and being comfortable in general. It renews them and gives them the energy to chew on the remote control when you leave.
Work hard, play hard: After a long day of napping, Rudi grabs her old towel tied in a knot and is ready for some quality tug-of-war. If you aren’t interested in playing, that’s just too bad. She will whine, bark and make this annoying whistle through her nostrils until you give in to her will. And you will give in. If that doesn’t work, she’ll run frenzied, figure-8 circles around the dining room and coffee table until she’s panting uncontrollably. This is what we like to call “psycho dog.”
Be wary of loud noises and bright lights: Rudi loves everything except the vacuum cleaner. Her ears perk up when the vacuum rolls out of the closet and she stares skeptically at the vacuum as it draws closer. She vigilantly sits until her tolerance is reached and the vacuum is 2 feet from her body and then runs to the opposite side of the room as if being chased.
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