Gone with the Wind

Note to self:

Next time you feel the need to chase your garbage can down the block on a windy day, perhaps you should pause to consider your attire first.  Green too-short sweatpants, Medusa hair, your husbands size 12 shoes and a lack of a bra can sure raise the eyebrows of your neighbors, not to mention turn the stomachs of the business people coming home for lunch.

In my own defense, this would have been the third garbage can we have lost and it was already four houses down and rolling fast.  This situation called for action!

In completely unrelated news... here is a picture of Marina.  Is it any wonder she makes fashion choices like these when you consider the example she lives with?

Chain of Fools

[Warning:  I can't vouch for the quality of this blog.  I am using writing as a laundry-procrastination while staying home with a sick kid.]

It seems like my life can sometimes be a series of chain reactions.  

It all started with Eli's sickness this weekend.  He has this dreaded virus that runs a low grade fever for about a week, making him unable to go to school or be in public.  Because of this, Mark had to stay home from church with him on Sunday.  Marina and I attended alone and naturally made our weekly trip to Sam's Club afterward.  

It's a well-known fact that I should never be allowed to shop at Sam's Club unattended, especially when the child accompanying me is on very good behavior, thus allowing me to effortlessly extend my wandering time.  

I was only there for three things:  Milk, Coffee Creamer, and Ravioli.  But then the aimless browsing started.  I found a spring jacket for $10.  What a deal!  Then I stood for 10 minutes looking at the 2-packs of leggings.  Since I am not in high school, nor am I Jessica Simpson, I have avoided buying any.  But because of Eli's sickness, the leggings ended up in my cart (next to the 20 other things that weren't on my list).

I went home and put them on.  As I stood in a t-shirt and leggings, I realized I had nothing to wear with them.  I don't have any random long shirts and I'm not about to wear my leggings as pants like the other crazy people out there.  

Since the kids were napping, I left Mark at home to venture back out to find a shirt to go with the leggings.  My sister met me at TJ Maxx for some much needed advisement.  She filled my arms with suggestions.  After long, unfortunate minutes in the dressing room with some 80s looking, unflattering giant shirt/mini skirt combination, a shapeless giant sweater and some other monstrosity, I had nothing to pair with my leggings.  Not only that, now I was feeling depressed and bad about my body.  

It also occurred to me that I needed a pair of shoes to wear with my leggings.  The chain of expensive events continued.

I ended up buying a yoga mat and cursing giant sweaters everywhere.  Who am I kidding?  I'm too old for leggings.  I may as well start buying pants with "JUICY" written across the buttocks.

My new-found depression called for a lifestyle change.  What's new?  I vow a lifestyle change every other month... just like the time I was going to run a marathon but only ran one time on the treadmill for 5 minutes before I gave up the fight.  Maybe this time it would stick...

Hours later, I sat on my yoga mat in front of the fireplace, complaining to Mark about my leggings debacle.  I was also complaining that I was getting cookie crumbs on my new mat.  It's a surprisingly nice place to sit and watch TV... in my leggings and short shirts. 

Doppelganger

When I got home from work today, Eli excitedly told me he got a book from the library with a dinosaur on it that looks just like me.  I said, "Oh cool" and we went on with our evening activities.  

A while later, I was cleaning up the kitchen and saw his dinosaur book on the counter.  I turned around and showed Eli the book.  

Me:  "Eli, is the dinosaur book that has a dinosaur that looks like me?"

Eli:  "Yep."

Me:  "Do you mean this green T-Rex on the front?"  (Please say no.  Please say there is a cute little pretty dinosaur somewhere inside this book).

Eli:  "Yes!"

Me:  "Just to be clear... you think Mommy looks like this dinosaur, right here?"  (Pointing to the beast.)

Eli:  "Yep."

Me:  "Hmmmm..."

Just after that, Mark told me Eli told him this after school.  I perked up.  "You mean he said the dinosaur looked like you?"

Mark:  "No, he told me he got a book with a dinosaur on it that looks like his mom."

Me:  "Hmmm.  Must be my wide set eyes... and my short arms... and that cheeseburger."

Here's my doppelganger. 

Age Barrier

Aging is a funny thing.  There are days when I look around at my friends and I feel like we are all kids playing like grown ups.  I often wonder how I can be trusted to raise kids and pay a mortgage.  

Then there are other days... the ones where I see my forehead wrinkles, pull out a few white hairs, and come to grips with the fact that I am in my 30s.  In terms of my looks, body, athleticism (ha!), you could say that my prime is behind me (and by this I don't mean in the JLo sense of "behind").  

I don't live in the TV world where in my 30s I am out at high-end clubs in the city, with expensive clothes and stunning shoes.  I live in the frugal adult world where I buy my work pants at TJ Maxx (they have design flaws, like when the button is sewn an inch too far to the right and it looks like my fly is down all the time) and I look for shoes that won't give me a bunion.

That is until recently.  All my work pants are too long; I think my legs are shortening in my old age.  Rather than get all my pants hemmed (just in case my legs grow again), it seems easier just to invest in taller shoes.  Since I don't have $300 for one pair of nice shoes, I buy uncomfortable, inexpensive shoes and force myself to hobble around on them all day at work.  I look totally ridiculous and I know it.  The worst part of it is how aware I generally am of people's shoes.  I often [inwardly] scoff at people wearing shoes that wobble with every step.  Why not wear something you can walk in?  Because obviously their pants are too long and they only paid $20 for the foolish shoes they are wearing.  I understand now.

Here is Exhibit A.  I wore these idiot shoes today.  In my head it was going to go smoothly... Yes, I can gracefully float in 5 inch heels.  Technically, I can't  walk from my car to my office in almost any type of heels.  There is a cobblestone walkway near the door that likes to eat up stiletto heels and break ankles.  This morning, after I put the torture-device shoes on at my desk, I realized there was a flaw with my plan.  These kind of shoes not only hurt my feet, they cause me to walk like I have wooden legs.  And for some reason, I can't turn a corner very well.  I have to turn like a semi does - cutting wide, nearly knocking into the wall.  If you have terrible ankles (like I do), perhaps you want to steer clear of these bad boys (I bet I wear them again next week).  I'm a walking (hobbling) workman's comp claim.

Outside of work, I have now graduated into my mom's shoe league.  We now both wear Merrells for their comfort and support. These are the shoes I wore to walk to and from the parking lot.

While tall shoes may be very adult, just not fitted for my aching body, my after-work/weekend wardrobe still screams of my college days.  I have orange sweatpants with the word PINK (sometimes you can only see PK) written across the buttocks.  I like to pair them with black socks like an old man mowing the lawn...

No, the picture below is not a stock photo from the Victoria's Secret catalog.  And no, my butt is not melting, it is just flat... like an old person's.

I also like to wear Uncle Jessie t-shirts in children's sizes... And I wear kitchen gloves because washing dishes makes my hands feel like sandpaper.  Yes, I'm a walking Palmolive commercial.  Yes, my hair actually looked like this all day at work.

And here I am in all my ridiculous glory.  Wouldn't you like to be my kid and have me pick you up from school like this?

So, perhaps it is time I came to grips with my age.  As a nod to my infirmed ankles, I should buy another pair of Naturalizers and as an act of mercy to my family, I should throw away any article of clothing that would be commonplace on a college campus (though I do realize you don't see a lot of the above outfit outside of a game of Truth or Dare).

Coming soon, the new, improved Lily.  I'm going to need a government grant to complete the transition, but I'm sure the American tax-payers won't mind.

Now I'm going to ice my ankles...

Welcome 2012

What does spending New Year's Eve with the Clintons look like?  Something a little bit like this.

Marina dressed as Macho Man Randy Savage, carrying a White Elephant-gifted taxidermy cat in her backpack.  

A picture of the frightening cat from Marina's backpack.  

 Eli practicing his picture smile.  This was the only one out of five that didn't look like I was inflicting pain with every click.  

Fat Linda and Lorenzo giving the laser eye to the dog sitting at the bottom of the stairs.

Marina curling Lorenzo as a part of her evening workout routine.

Lorenzo trying to make his escape.

Eli wearing his homemade New Year's crown while practicing his ninja sword moves and showing off his impressive cheekbones.  

Those are some good looking kids.

Smiling while their great aunt is brutalized on the couch.

Not exactly New Year's Eve related, but worthy of posting.  Eli made me this heart necklace at church today.  He tried to phonetically spell "Lily Mom".  "Lellieey" is a pretty good guess.  I don't usually make him call me this, but maybe we are onto something new for 2012.