Shoes: Ami Clubwear
Bag: Fred Flare
Sunglasses: Candie's, Kohl's
Dress: Eric & Lani, Macy's
Shoes: BCBG, Macy's
Belt: Wet Seal
Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's
Dress: J. C. Penney's
Shoes: Ami Clubwear
Bag: Etsy, Eleven Peacocks
Belt: B Fabulous
Dress: Candie's, Kohl's
Shoes: Betseyville, J. C. Penney's
Bag: Bisou Bisou, J. C. Penney's
Shoes: Guess, DSW
Sunglasses: J. C. Penney's
Here's the second batch of necklaces I made with my Olivia Madison Company beads. As I'd hoped, they're bigger, better, and more bedecked than ever before (even if I do say so myself). But they didn't start out that way. At first, I just strung the beads with the rhinestone sliders, trying to let the pieces shine unencumbered by anything extra that involved the dreaded glue. I hated the result (way too run-of-the-mill) and ended up taking action with my wire cutters. That's when I thought, why string the rhinestone sliders at all? Why not make them the focal point of some fresh felt designs? (See, in the end, glue always reigns supreme.) Once I started, I couldn't stop, unsatisfied until I'd covered the key categories of desserts, seashells, critters, randomness (that would be Miss Parrot Wings), and flowers. I left out fruit, but there's always next time.
So, that's one new thing. The other is that, after much consideration, I decided to add a menu bar to the top of this blog highlighting some of the pop culture topics I've expounded upon and/or referenced these past five years. I figured this would make it easier to pinpoint particular posts. I ran into this issue a few years ago when someone was interested in the blog on a (for lack of a better adjective) professional level and said that there were too many posts focusing on my products. "Sure," I allowed, "but I write about other stuff too!," scrambling to find a post about a book or movie. Needless to say, this would-be venture never went anywhere. But it made an impression on me, if not about my content, then about the way I presented it.
So I began the reorganization, an endeavor that required slogging through hundreds of old posts to decide which ones to link. It was a humbling experience, like reading old school papers or journal entries and wondering what the heck I was thinking. Which sort of gave me pause. Part of the problem of making posts more accessible is that they become . . . more accessible. Did I really want to give people a blueprint to musings that would be better off buried in the bowels of cyberspace? Because truth be told, my earliest ramblings were a little rough around the edges. For example, I sometimes fell prey to the break-the-fourth-wall habit of posing audience questions a la Zack Morris in "Saved by the Bell" or Carrie Bradshaw in early episodes of "Sex and the City." I'd end posts by asking, "What sorts of crafts do you like?," "What's your favorite piece of clothing?," and (that convenient catchall) "What do you think?" I've since dispensed with such queries, instead taking a strong but silent "you know what to do at the beep" approach to comments. Still, this was just one of many instances of cringe-worthy blog behavior that I uncovered; by the time I'd finished searching, I'd arrived at the following realizations: 1) I am a very silly woman, 2) I read a lot of cheeseball books, and 3) I seem to have no shame.
Nevertheless, in this digital age, there's no such thing as maintaining a linear online presence. With or without a navigation menu, the narrative nature of a blog is merely an illusion, not unlike time itself. A glance at any site's traffic confirms that, on any given day, more people may have accessed something you wrote two years ago than something you wrote yesterday. Which meant that if I were to continue on this wayward adventure (and for better or worse it seems that I am), then I had to own my postings past, flaws and all.
So that's what's on the menu. That and some carbo-licious casseroles.