Dreaming of a White Christmas

Well, well, well, ho, ho, ho, and no need to be dreaming of a White Christmas! Dear readers, how have you been this year? Naughty or nice… or maybe a dash of both? If you’re anything like me, you will probably answer a little bit of both. If you are anything like Edie, well then, you are so far down the naughty list you couldn’t reach Santa to try to explain even if you would try.

Dreaming of a White Christmas

This year is a season of even more austerity than the last. However much I enjoyed about the anticipation of gift giving, and receiving, I crave more extensions of goodwill and family. Perhaps that is because I have less expendable money than in prior years. Perhaps it is because I have so much more time to give to my community, and to my family, than I have had before.

Whatever makes your season magical, beautiful, and bright, may your days ahead be merry, be joyful, and light. I wish you the ever loving spirit of Old Fezziwig to fill your heart. ‘Tis the season!

XO, Jennifer

Dreaming of a White Christmas

 

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In Defense of Being Basic | What’s the Crime in Liking Pretty?
I like things that are pretty and pleasant. So what’s wrong… and why is that “basic?” I don’t get this obsession with women tearing down other women just for the sake of “being basic.” What does that even mean, anyway? Since when did liking “pretty” things become an acceptable social pillory?
 
I discover new music through sites such as Pandora and Spotify. I’m generally going to have to Google an acronym or meme, after which I’ll probably adopt it for a wee spell. I stalk Anthropologie’s tag sales and have my eBay search filters to isolate the Anthro brands I love… and I go into bid frenzy when the $298 dress is listed for $80. Sometimes, in moments of weakness, I purchase full price, then admonish myself for the splurge.
 
I snap with filters; I even Snap filter my poor dog. #OhEdie. Yep, I made a hashtag for my dog. #Dogmom

I go on Tinder and Coffee Meets Bagel dates, and swipe right far too happily on the former app after three glasses of wine. Colors as follows: red in the winter, rose in the spring, and alternating that pink and whites when it’s stupidly sweaty hot in the summer. 

I dance and twirl in my living room listening to found-on-Spotify songs and while drinking that wine (pre, during, or post swipes) while Edie alternately watches in horror or goes to hide under the bed. My hair is ridiculously long; I like Essie’s nude/pink nail laquers; I live and die by my Urban Decay under eye concealer.  Dreams are filled with visions of DryBar blowouts that make my hair so big, curly, and bouncy. And, I rejoiced when my Yelp profile was upgraded to “elite.”

Fact is, I can go on and on about so many insignificant things about me that someone can choose to cut down for my lack of ambition to be cutting edge and bold. Oh… I didn’t even go to what would be considered impressive schools. But, these are my happiness and bank withdrawals, so where’s the harm and foul? I’m not smug, and I’m not intentionally tangential.

I say bring it on, and while I’m allowing myself the carbs, how about I have some white bread on the side, too? You got me, there, I ALWAYS let myself have carbs (cellulite is out of control)! On that note, I need to go back to grading some papers. Oh, my MacBook is probably an indictment, too, but I’ll put on record I’ve been an Apple gal since my folks bought me a IIC in 1985/6 so I think I have a pass to have my Apple obsession without a side of snark. :o)

Seriously, let’s all just lay down some of the snark – my Lord knows I am guilty, there, too. We have so much rage, sadness, fear, and chaotic confusion happening right now, adopting a PSL philosophy to life might not be a bad thing (but I do draw the line at actually ordering PSLs – I think it’s entirely a thing to do with it still being over a 100F when PSL season comes about and I cannot reconcile the two).

So, what is so wrong with being basic?

XO,

Jennifer

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All the Feels | Sunday Vintage Dreams and Dissertation Procrastination
 

More than anything else, today, I’d far rather binge on John Hughes films, Molly’s in particular, and gulp – not sip – palomas (my summer 2016 beverage obsession). In truth, what I most want to do is burrow in an air conditioned cocoon and hide from the equal threat of July’s punitive heat and any acknowledgement of my current dissertation procrastination.

Alas, tired as I am from my impromptu, whirlwind, mini road trip, there is no rest for the weary and I have four more papers screaming at me to grade them and a mountain of laundry to attend to.

Instead,I must settle for my Bryan Ferry inspired playlist stream, go find where I set down my glasses, and get back to work.

my own true north dissertation procrastination

 
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Learning to Take a Leap | Am I Ready to become a Cougar?

If I were slightly less tired from last night’s party (my ass is old; I cannot stay out that late anymore), being less tired would be a great start. Being finished with these papers looming over me (I can practically feel the executioner’s ax on my neck). However, attending the Junior League of Phoenix White Party was awfully fun last night. And, an interesting sequence of events has me questioning if I am ready to become a cougar…. Read, more.

Any opportunity to don a new dress and pair it with vintage treasures from inside my closet is alright by me (and this made for the seemingly one time per year I can bring out my fluffy fox stole – relax, it was already an estate piece when I got it). Rooftop dancing at Casablanca Lounge among suspended flower arrangements and a grooving DJ on a Saturday night in January — and NOT feeling cold? Yes, please!

my own true north become a cougar

But, am I ready to become a cougar?

Well, and although my ass may be old, a 25 year old cutie (man, how I underappreciated my 20’s) from one of the stops last night reached out to me and asked me on a date. I figured why the hell not, and so Saturday night I will be a puma (I think that’s what I would be called). All I have to lose is some hairspray and lipgloss, and I can chalk up the night at the very least to one of an experience!  

I’m not yet sure if this means the young buck has a thing for older women (Dear Lord, I hope he doesn’t think I’m a cougar – I don’t like being aged upwards) or if I maybe am not quite the picture of the little old lady I see in my mind?

But either way, although I do not view, with any seriousness, a possible romantic connection with someone more than a decade younger than me, this is an opportunity for me to get out and have a new experience with someone new. Truth be told, I have been so completely shut down to the idea of dating — ANYONE — perhaps a date with a quarter-centarian might help me find the fun that I used to have dating again.

This is my flying leap. Hey, I generally don’t date men younger than me (not by design or choice; it’s really just worked out that way), and this fellow is so significantly younger than me, to call it a leap is not much of a leap. Hell, that I actually agreed to go out on a date – with anyone – at this point is a leap.

As for taking leaps, for flying leaps, and learning to fly…. Does it get better than Tom Petty and Stevie Nicks??? I got a little tingle feeling on my arms that I recognized as goosebumps.

Oh, and maybe I took a little inspiration because today’s Kiss a Ginger Day…. 😉
 
XO, Jennifer
 
become a cougar my own true north
 
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