Moss is Boss: Gaudy by Nature

 Big Red Heart Necklace

Top: a.n.a, JCPenney
Skirt: Boscov's
Shoes: Cape Robin, Ami Clubware
Bag: Betsey Johnson, Modcloth
Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon
Yellow and orange bangles: B Fabulous
Mint bangle: Decree, JCPenney

 House Party Necklace

Top: Self Esteem: JCPenney
Skirt: Dickie's Girl, Dolls Kill
Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily
Bag: Nordstrom
Red bangle: B Fabulous
Black and white bracelet: Mixit, JCPenney
Purse charm: The Tote Trove
Sunglasses: So, Kohl's
Barrettes: The Tote Trove

 Holiday Mode Necklace

Top: Lily Star, Target
Skirt: Amazon
Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily
Bag: Tatty Devine, Modcloth
Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon
Green bracelet: Parade of Shoes
Purple bracelet: Etsy
Barrette: The Tote Trove

A rolling stone may gather no moss, but a stay-put planter gathers a garden. And I should know. Because there's one in my backyard:

There's another planter right next to it that's moss-less. The husband and I can't figure out why. Did some tiny but noxious insect die in it, discouraging flora from flourishing? Or is it all just a trick of elves killing time before Christmas? I guess it'll have to remain one of life's mysteries. Meanwhile, the moss is lovely, so green and plush, like a carpet in a toadstool house. Which is totally a thing if the Smurfs are a thing. Even if their floors are an unplush beige.

Anyway, Mother Nature's gown is my oyster when it comes to staging new necklaces. Or maybe I should say it's my laser-slash-bookcase school picture backdrop. There's just something about the contrast of homegrown greenery and bright, man-made plastic. (Even if the lemon wreath is about as natural as Hawaiian Punch.) It makes me want to hike in a tutu or collect leaves in stilettos. Or, you know, watch people hike and collect leaves on TV while I sit on the couch eating fruit snacks.

Either way, it's all something to heart. Because here in the house of fun, I'm always on vaca(y).

Record Store Snore: Up and Atom

These days, records are a thing of the past, and for that matter, so are CDs. Which is sad, because both can be beautiful. Although I still buy CDs, I don't usually stop to appreciate their packaging. Instead, I strip them of their cases, throw the cases away, and then shove them in the sleeves of my old (not quite suit) case (Everclear forever, Trevor. If you need to know who Trevor is, then Google Saved by the Bell).  But every now and then, a case has a design that grabs me.  I recently got two like this, one Walk the Moon, and one Greta van Fleet.  Both are a cross between outer space and the desert and have an eerie, otherworldly feel, suggesting that their music will take you where you need to go.  So, great going, art director people.  Because I always feel mellower whenever I hear Walk the Moon's "One Foot."  It's soothing yet electric.  Like a sloth strumming a sitar while downing Pop Rocks.

"Oh, through the wilderness
You and I we're walking through the emptiness
Oh, my heart is a mess
Is it the only defense against the wilderness?

Cross my heart and hope to die
Taking this one step at a time
Got your back if you got mine
One foot in front of the other
One foot in front of the other
One foot in front of the other"

These lyrics say it all, showing the importance of 1) having someone by your side as you take life, yes, one step at a time, and 2) remembering that the essence of you, whatever that means, is what you have to offer to and protect yourself from this crazy world. 

So, in honor of that and the trippy artwork, I framed Moon along with our gal Greta and put them on my nightstand. Right next to my souvenir stand-looking, seashell-covered jewelry box that I got, not at the beach, but at Marshalls. It's the ideal spot for them to sing, sleep, and drown out my alarm. Not to mention the alarms of the world.

By which, of course, I mean the Trevors.

Color Fall Ball: Hello, Autumn

A month or so ago, I told the husband that I wanted him to photograph me standing on the posterboard I use for my flat lays.  And he said he had another idea, which was this:   

When he emailed me the pic, he used the subject line Color Fall -- which gave me the idea to save it for my first day of fall post.  Then, just last week, it was my idea to take this:

I wasn't crazy about the top half of my outfit but knew that the bottom was golden -- or rather, rainbowed.  Also, that it was a soul mate (can pictures have soul mates?) of Color Fall. 

That said, I wish everyone an artsy autumn.  Whether that means scarlet leaves or neon sleeves or a crazy cool collage of both :)

Photo Shoot Reboot

These days, reboots are old hat.  From "Fuller House" to "The Conners" to "Will & Grace" to "BH 90210," everything old is new again and there's no such thing as closing the door.  So I decided to crack my own open.

Years ago, I used to regularly post pictures of myself in a -- segment?  column?  feature?  Let's just be honest and say vanity piece -- that I called Photo Shoot Friday.  And then I felt weird about it and stopped.  I even went so far as to delete (almost) all those posts.  Afterwards, I felt as if a weight had been lifted -- no more hanging around in my outfit until the husband got home to take the pictures, no more worrying that the outfits weren't good enough.  Then, this past winter, I gradually started getting back into it.  I'd be wearing an outfit I really liked and think, I want to be able to look at this years from now -- and, yeah, maybe let the world look at it, too.  So I did and it's been more fun this time because 1) I'm in a house and have more space to work with (although this first pic was taken at my parents'.  You know I can't keep flowers like those!)  and 2) I'm more relaxed.  I don't post the pics on a schedule (or any at all that I'm not reasonably happy with!), but instead just when I feel like it.  And I try not to obsess that they're not polished enough or high res enough but instead accept all their imperfections -- real or imagined -- because they're mine. 

Also, maybe the outfits are getting better, or maybe I am.  Or maybe it's a little of both.  If there's one thing I've learned in the ten years that I've been doing this, it's that the older I get, the wiser I get, and the more like myself I become.

I hear that Tori Spelling feels the same.

Sky High: Altitude Attitude

Ballroom Butterfly Necklace 

Dress: Zulily

Top: Kohl's

Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily

Bag: City Streets, J. C. Penney's

Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Mustard bracelet: Cloud 9

Lavender bangle: Don't Ask, Zulily

Sunglasses: Target

"Butterfly in the sky, I can fly twice as high," is a song that every '80s kid knows.  Ah, LeVar Burton, "Reading Rainbow," and the wonder of books: good times and good memories!  That said, this post is about 1) a butterfly necklace (which, it seems, is a rainbow connection I've made before) and 2) a book about high-flying women.  For yes, we have lift-off with Fannie Flagg's The All-Girl Filling Station's Last Reunion.  

"Huh?" you may be thinking.  "What does a gas station have to do with lady pilots?"  I know, I know, the title is misleading.  When I first read it, I imagined a nostalgia-fueled saga about a close-knit group of grease monkey gal pals reliving their glory days.  (By the way, when I was a toddler, I told my parents that I wanted to be a gas station attendant.  These days I won't even pump my own gas.  So much for dreams.)  But this novel isn't that.  Although it is super nostalgic.  It turns out that these gas pump-wielding women are sisters and WASPs.  No, not bees or White Anglo Saxon Protestants, but Women Airforce Service Pilots, an entity I never even knew existed until I cracked this book.  During World War II, these brave broads flew planes to "ferry" them to flight schools and deliver military supplies all over the United States.  They went through the same rigorous training as the male combat pilots but faced ridicule and discrimination.  As if this wasn't bad enough, flying was dangerous work, and some of them lost their lives.  Unfortunately, unlike their male counterparts, the WASPs received no recognition for their heroism, nor veteran benefits for their families.  In fact, they were forced to disband when male flight instructors convinced Congress that they were stealing their jobs.  Now, I have no desire to conquer the cockpit.  But the women who did deserved the chance to do so fairly.  Flagg does them justice, deftly and sensitively serving this slice of American history through the trials and tribulations of the Jurdabralinski sisters.  When their father becomes ill and their brother goes to war, they take over their family's filling station.  Then, they take to the skies.  The ringleader, Fritzi, gets her start as an airplane wing dancer.  As someone who's not too keen on flying in the first place, I find this mind-boggling.  How did she not fall off?!  

Still, this book isn't all life and death drama.  There's another side to the story.  And that's the side where it starts, in present-dayish, small town Alabama where housewife Sookie Poole lives.  When we meet Sookie, she's recovering from throwing four weddings as well as dealing with the everyday antics of her larger-than-life mother, Lenore.  A paradox of die-hard propriety and madcap rebellion, Lenore is a southern belle gone batty (although not in the clinical sense, unlike her loony bin-dwelling relatives).  Sookie is as cautious as her mother is brazen.  She worries about everyone's feelings and welfare, including that of the little birds in her yard whose food is usurped by blue jays.  A gentle soul to the core, she leads a quiet life.  This is why it comes as such a shock when she finds out that she's adopted.  And I do mean shock -- a southern lady through and through, Sookie faints upon reading the news in, of all things, a piece of mail.  Yet with the help of her husband and a kindly therapist, she puts aside her fears and decides to search for her birth mother.  And she discovers that she just may have the DNA of a WASP, showing her -- and us -- that women past and present are capable of all kinds of courage.  

Funny and poignant, The All-Girl Filling Station's Last Reunion is a real page-turner, delivering all the warm-hearted and introspective feels that Flagg fans love.  It's these qualities that make the WASPs pop, humanizing an unsung and scary chapter in America's story.  That said, it's not surprising that The All-Girl Filling Station's Last Reunion is also about family -- and protecting the people you love.  I think that's one of the things that most draws me to Flagg's books -- they offer a benevolent worldview and almost everyone in them is good, just like the Luke Bryan song says.  They remind you that the world can be kind and that happiness is possible. 

I was sad when this one ended.

No Llama Drama: Where the Mild Things Are . . .

Wild Fable, Target

Candie's, Kohl's

Candie's, Kohl's

Lily White, Marshalls

 . . . is where I'll be.  As you know, I'm a homebody bookworm, and the craziest thing about me is my clothes.  That said, safari styles make it easy for me to, well, roar.  Because animal prints are fierce.  Whether leopard, zebra, tiger, or even flamingo, this toothsome trend says, "Don't mess with me."  But then, "trend" is something of a misnomer.  Because animal prints have been around since "The Flintstones."  They're as classic as cat fights and as timeless as bar brawls.  And no, cat fights and bar brawls are not the same thing.  Meows hold more menace than punches.

What is trendy is the zooful of cute creatures that graces everything from pillows to ponchos.  First it was owls, then foxes, then sloths.  And now it's llamas.  Known for their sweet, soulful faces and boho chic vibe, these four-legged lovelies are parading through their fifteen minutes of fame festooned with feathers and pompoms.  This colorful canvas could be their mascot: 

Me and my llama.

I wish I could take credit for making it, but that honor goes to Marshalls.  Just as the honor for making my faux jumpsuit (really just a matching top and jeans; you know I don't do rompers) goes to JCPenney.  I did make these Llama Mama necklaces, though.  One for you (or rather, the craft buying public), one for me.

 Llama Mama Necklace

That said, here are some factoids about llamas.  They come from Trip Savvy, which I've decided not to link to because some day that link will die, leaving a big black hole in this post.  The text after each quote, though, isn't from Trip Savvy but me -- with some help from The Lion King. 

- "Llamas know their own limits.  If you try to overload a llama with too much weight, the llama is likely to lie down or simply refuse to move." 

Don't let people burden you with more than you can handle.  Play dead if you have to to show those bullies who's boss!

- "Llamas don't bite.  They spit when they're agitated, but that's mostly at each other." 

When it comes to the circle of life, don't eat or be eaten.  Live and let live.  Squabbles with your nearest and dearest, however, are always part of the deal.

- "Llama poop has almost no odor.  Llama farmers refer to llama manure as "llama beans."  It makes great, eco-friendly fertilizer.  The Incas in Peru burned dried llama poop for fuel." 

If possible, then don't make a stink.  And leave things a little bit better than you found them. 

So simple, yet so philosophical.  We could learn a lot from the llama.

Especially the part about spitting.

Pop Goes the Evil: Corns and (Pineapple) Palaces

 That 70s Grow Necklace

Top: Self Esteem, Macy's

Skirt: TJ Maxx

Shoes: Guess, DSW

Bag: Old Navy

Flower bangle: Mixit, J. C. Penney's

Striped bangle: ZAD, Zulily

Blue bead bracelet: Cloud Nine

Beaded bracelet: Plymouth Plantation gift shop

Pompom charm bracelet: Zulily

 People of the Pineapples Necklace

Top: Decree, J. C. Penney's

Skirt: Worthington, J. C. Penney's

Shoes: Shoe Carnival

Bag: Circus by Sam Edelman, Kohl's

Belt: J. C. Penney's

Pineapple purse charm: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Palm leaf purse charm: Michaels

Catherine the Ornate Necklace

Top: Self Esteem, J. C. Penney's

Skirt: Celebrity Pink, Macy's

Shoes: Guess, Marshalls

Bag: J. C. Penney's

Beaded bangle: Amrita Singh, Zulily

Other bangles: B Fabulous

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

Barrette: The Tote Trove

You've heard of Children of the Corn.  Well, this is People of the Pineapples.  Except it's a necklace, not a horror movie.  And I made it because I enjoy bringing you the best in off-putting produce.  That said, corn and pineapples aren't all that different.  Both are yellow and segmented, with a green tuft on top.  And in this case, both are haunted by undead spirits: the corn by frightening farm kids, and the pineapples by severed head silhouettes.  Which are more than likely children, too, but the kind that come from the city.

Pineapples, at least, can be playful.  As in, "Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?  SpongeBob SquarePants!"  The scariest thing to ever happen on that cartoon was Squidward playing his clarinet.  

But corn -- corn is something else.  It's stringy and strange and gets stuck in your teeth and dies an awful death come autumn.  Talk about Kernel Killjoy!  I've never seen Children of the Corn, and if all goes well, I never will.  Nevertheless, its namesake villainous veggie has begun to work its black magic.  Here it is, less than a week after my summer-ain't-over-until-it's-over Labor Day post, and I'm already ranting about a topic that would be more at home on Halloween.  I'm pitting the summer pineapple against the harvest corn husk -- a starch I secretly love -- and I hate what it's doing to me.

No wonder they say that corn syrup's the devil.

Here's hoping that your corn stays sweet and unspoiled.  And that it finds some other poor sap to stalk.

Double Stubble, Toil and Trouble: Lazy, Laser-less Labor Day

 Patriotic Polly Necklace

 An Apple a Play Bangle

Top: a.n.a., JCPenney

Skirt: Amazon

Shoes: Mix No. 6, DSW

Bag: Charming Charlie

Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

Light blue bangle: Burlington Coat Factory

Royal blue bangle: Kohl's

Mustard bracelet: Cloud Nine

Barrette: The Tote Trove

Nothing says Dad's day off like five o' clock shadow -- unless it's Mom's grizzly bear legs.  Because Labor Day is prime time to let it all hang out and grow out before the big, bad fall tames our tresses.  (And yes, I realize that cooler weather means a reprieve from the onerous chore that is hair removal.  But I like this alternate, if-not-widely-intuitive, let-your-hair-down angle, and damn it, I'm leaning in.)  No one wants to do battle with a razor or toil at all on this last day of summer.  Toil is such a serious-sounding word, isn't it?  It makes me think of mining, factory work, and other hard knock jobs hatched by the Industrial Revolution.  I counteract its gloomy vibe by reminding myself that "toil" sounds like "toilet paper."  

Anyway, Labor Day is weird.  Unless you're a student or a teacher (thankfully, my hall pass days are behind me, and I'm no molder of young minds), it doesn't mean much of anything.  The sky is still light come five o' clock, you can still wear flip flops, and you can still even go out for ice cream.  Sure, there are harvest signs and pumpkins as far as the eye can see.  But if you want to, you can ignore them until Halloween or even Thanksgiving.  That's what I do.  Although I know that the bounty of apples and squash is meant to be a cause for celebration, to me it says one thing and one thing only: "Squirrel away your nuts because it's going to be one brutal winter."  

That said, here are some of my most Americana-y looks of the season.  Except for maybe the one with the windmill.  Nothing like celebrating a U.S. holiday by paying homage to Holland.

  

So, happy eating, napping, and neglecting hygiene.

And, above all else, letting the good times roll far beyond a can of pureed pumpkin.