The Joy of a Break...and Onward!

Well, happily back from a too-long trip to California, H and are ready to go. We're eternally grateful for grandmothers who stay with the Beans and let us make a trip we needed to make - and in the process get a little time on our own.

But really, it was too long to be away from them.

So as we get started - I'm starting my new DayJob tomorrow - a little update on my list:

1. I read a book. I'm not done yet, but it's a page turning, intelligent, and oddly sweet thriller from Alan Furst: Night Soldiers. So. Good.

2. I got a haircut. We even put layers in. And it lasted through a convertible ride into the desert, a run, and an afternoon by the pool.

3. I got a mani/pedi for the first time in I don’t know how many months. DC folks, Varnish Lane. Almost a full week of a regular polish (albeit my new fave, matte, on my fingers), and the only thing that really got to it was, you know, surfing. In the ocean. With the sand.

4. I went for a run. I can't even remember now whether I managed one before we left, but I did fit in an hour of Combatitude. And then I ran on a cool California desert morning. And there were mountains and flowers and sky.

5. When we arrived in California, I took a 2 hour afternoon nap. So necessary. And then, one afternoon, I nodded off by the pool. I know.

6. I still need to buy some new black pumps...and maybe some red ones. I looked one afternoon, to no avail, while still here. I'm still on the hunt. But instead? I bought some Reef flip flops. Because we were in Pacific Beach before a surf lesson and it seemed the thing to do.

7. Even before I finished at my last gig, H came by and brought me lunch. And then on our break, we had lunch together (and with his mom), dinner, breakfast, and drinks. There were drinks. By the ocean. And now we're home.

Twirl in Style: In Clothes, There is Joy

Here's the story of today. It doesn't start with the joyful clothes, but I'll get there, I promise. Have patience.

I've been itching to have a smoothie for breakfast lately, but was a) trying to stick to the full plan of regular, but on the elimination diet (ED) breakfasts, pre-cleanse, and b) The Bug. So I finally, finally loaded up the produce bin more than usual, and lined up my smoothie, all ready to "buzz" this morning before TrainerJen. I even looked up the smoothie recipes in the Clean book to make a soundly nutritional mixture, and got back out of bed to make "chia seed gel" quickly. (Apparently, chia seeds are easier to blend (and digest) if you make a gel out of them - which basically means put them in water and keep in the fridge.)

So here's my smoothie:

1c mango cubes
1c frozen, unsweetened sweet cherries
1c light coconut milk (will switch to regular, less processed, once I use up what I have)
1c/handful mixed "Power Greens" (a boxed greens mix from Whole Foods with spinach, kale, and chard, at least, if not others)
1tsp-ish ground ginger
2T chia seed gel

Day-aHM, it was yummy! It was a lot (about 24oz), but since I'd worked out, I was good with that. Had half before, half after.

Then, the skirt. I bought this skirt in NOLA in a pink garage (not kidding). As I tried it on over my pre-Stanley-fried-oyster-and-boudin Benedict running clothes (after said Benedict and on my second bloody Mary of the morning), my girlfriend convinced me I could wear it to the office. So I am. And it's sparkly and twirly and flirty and twirly and full and luscious and wonderful. I've got pep. I've got spring in my step and swing in my hips. I'm wearing red lipstick (super retro, also bought in NOLA, at Trashy Diva) and power shoes (python pumps, to be exact). I'm feeling the power of the female sex, and could even be productive at the DayJob.

Woah. Don't go overboard there.

But needless to say, though I told TrainerJen "flow" when she made me close my eyes and tell me what my body told me I needed because I was overthinking it, we did a pretty fast-paced circuit-y workout because she really always knows best. So it could be the workout. It could be the smoothie. It could be the skirt.

Because lord knows it ain't the full 7-8 hours of sleep that I didn't get.

But as I sashay - literally - around the office, just waiting for someone to call me on my excessive, twirly sparkles (only one, so far - bring it on!), I'm struck at how much joy a big piece of fabric can bring to my day. I almost can't stop thinking about it. I want to go back to the bathroom again to look at it in the mirror, and I keep trying to get a phone pic of how incredible it is. The ones I've gotten so far just don't do it justice.

I have other outfits in which I feel great (um, the Union Jack skinnies?), but there's something about the sheer feminity, maybe, that puts this one over the edge into joy. Is it the cut? Is it the fullness? Is it that it, in some demented, Freudian way makes me pretend I'm in some 50s office and in the male-dominated world that would come with it - and then the power I have as a prettily dressed, curvy female in that space? I'm sure the analysts would have a field day with that.

So what is it about being girly and flouncy and flirty that feels so powerful? Because I think that might be what it is. Nevertheless, I'll take it, and I'll use it all day long.

And I will be counting the days until I can wear this girly statement piece again.

So what makes you feel all-powerful? Is it girly? Is it menswear? Is it your pajamas?

A Moment in a Stylish Life

I'm having a hard time today.


It kind of goes along with the territory of carrying a child.




My absolutely wonderful girlfriends are throwing me a baby shower today. I'm so grateful. 25 of the most stunning, strong, and supportive women in my life will be there to celebrate this amazing thing called a baby. In a few weeks, my mother and mother-in-law are joining forces to throw another shower. Again, surrounded by women who only want the best for me and the baby.





We've been getting gifts, hand-me-downs, and loaners from everyone we can possibly think of - and from people we didn't expect. We have cribs, stollers, Pack-n-Plays. I have dresses and tops galore. We haven't really had to spend a dime so far on anything, thanks to the generosity of those around us.





Every day, someone does something nice. Just plain nice. Total strangers. There's the lady who stood up from her seat on the metro. The saleswoman at Sephora who kindly asked if we know the sex of the baby. And the man at the bowling alley yesterday drilled a bigger hole in the ball (I needed a larger hole for a lighter ball, which they didn't have) just for me. The 66-year old man sitting in front of us at the Nats v. Os game last night gave me one of his precious baseballs (picked up from Braves batting practice a few weeks ago) for the baby. There's an amazing kindness in the air for pregnant ladies. It's a lovely, joyful thing.





And I'm having a horrible time this morning. Weepy, tired, just needing kindness. Which everyone's giving me, bless them. So last night I got out my grandmother's handkerchiefs to have on hand today, and I made sure I have the tokens of gratitude I found for my girlfriends. As soon as I finish writing this, I'll buck up and jump in the shower, then find the emotional strength to put on makeup, brush my hair, and pick out a dress (somehow, in all of this, that's the least appealing part of it). We'll caravan up to Germantown and be blessed by more goodness and kindness.





And I'll sit there in my too summery halter (because it's the only thing I feel like wearing), clutching Grandmom's hankies, and weeping gently for all that I have.