Newsletter: Month Ten

Dear Violet

Ten months. That's how old you are today. I'm so happy I've written these monthly retrospectives because just now I went back and read over them and realized how much we forget, how many cherished details blur with the passage of time. But with photos and the written word I can remember, forever, this most precious time of your life.



I love you so much its hard to articulate my emotions and I feel like a big, thick-tongued doofus trying to describe the enormity of my feelings for you and what you mean to me. I've heard a mother's affection for her child compared to falling in love. It's a good analogy because when you smile at me, or I look up unexpectedly and catch you watching me with those big boundless eyes that are just like your Papa's, my heart catches in my throat and tears prickle my nose and eyes because I am just so full of joy to know you. You and only you, Miss Violet Avelaine Bielanko.



A couple moments with you really stand out this month. You've had a couple rough nights and I have to admit, I can't just let you cry. If two or three binky/bottle readjustments don't do the trick I'll come in and scoop you out of the crib and hold you. A few nights ago I sat in the rocking chair and held you close AND YOU LET ME. The older you get the more uncommon it is for you to not only sit still in Mama's arms, but to burrow into my body like a little badger seeking warmth from the cold. I rocked and sang songs and breathed in your sweet hair and could not have been more thrilled to be awake at one in the morning.

The second moment that really stands out happened late one night when I peeked in on you after getting home from work. I walk in the door at about 10:25 every evening. The first thing I do is creep into your room to watch you breathe, pull another blanket on you and marvel at you. This night I'd done the usual Find The Binky routine. I located it in the far corner of the crib and placed it gently next to your head where you'd be sure to find it if you woke up. The binky made a barely audible click as I set it down. Although your eyes were closed and you were breathing deeply your little hand shot out and began feeling along the sheet like a blind person until your fingers grasped the binky. Eyes still closed, you pulled the binky back to your face and jabbed around with it for a bit until you found your mouth. All of this done with your eyes closed and apparently deep in sleep.

Funniest thing I ever saw.



You've discovered books! This is one of the few times we can get you to stop moving. You'll sit quietly in our laps for the story but will throw the most excellent tantrums once we come to the conclusion of each book. The minute I close the book you start ballyhooing and flailing until I open it up back at the beginning and start all over again. FOR THE FOURTH TIME.

"One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish..."

Just recently you've realized how to turn the page. I'll read each page while you pay rapt attention and then I'll say, "Okay, turn the page." And you do! It blows my mind. This may be the first direct cause and effect communication we've ever had. God, I hope you're a reader. No pressure! But please love to read! It changed my life in more ways than I could ever express. Seriously, no pressure. Still, if you take after Mama in any way I hope it's that you love books as much as I do. Please, please, please... No pressure and all BUT COME ON!! Throw your old mother a bone, considering I carried you for nine months and you looking nothing like me at all!



It is important to note that you were congratulated for being born by President Barack Obama and the First Lady. I spent the night Obama was inaugurated in labor with you and you were born the very next day, the first day of his Presidency. I like to say you wanted to wait until President Bush was safely out of office before making your grand entrance. So I wrote a letter to The White House to tell them all about Violet Bielanko and this month you finally received a response.





You celebrated your first Halloween this past month and I've gotta be honest: we didn't do anything. Oh, we dressed you up in several costumes purely for our own personal entertainment but we didn't take you trick-or-treating or anything. I don't imagine you minded very much, like me and Pop you're just happy to hang out around the house in your pajamas so it works out really well for everyone involved.





You're getting so big I can't believe it. Michelin man thighs stretching into toddler legs, hair growing, starfish hands grabbing at everything you can reach. I know I sound like eighty million other parents out there when they say it goes so fast but it does. It goes by so fast it hurts. It hurts to know you'll never again be the way you are right now. Or last week. Or the week before that. Oh, I know there are so many other equally amazing moments to come but each milestone is so thrilling to me I can't help but mourn its passing even while it's still happening. Like the other day, Pop called me at work to tell me that your two front teeth are peeking out of the upper deck of your precious pink gums. I was devastated. I love that big gummy grin so much and to think that pretty soon I'll never see it again breaks my heart. But time stops for no one, soldiering onward with my beloved baby girl as hostage, leaving behind this almost-toddler in her place.



You and your Papa sure share something special. After I leave for work he saddles up the hounds and you guys go walking in the dog park together. Every day. And this is no small feat when you've pretty well outgrown the Bjorn and spend much of your time excitedly kicking Pop squarely in the balls. I imagine when Pop looks back on your first year your daily walks with the dogs will tug a few heartstrings and maybe cause his balls to twinge with phantom pain.

It's so special to see Pop develop his relationship with you. Every morning we plant ourselves on the front couch so we can wave to Pop as he pulls out of the driveway. And without fail he will spend a considerable time making a fool of himself in the front yard by popping up and down and dancing in front of the window just so he can make you laugh. You chortle appreciatively and bang on the window when you get particularly excited. When we hear him come home we rush to the window that overlooks the porch and you'll giggle and thump the window excitedly to let Pop know how glad you are that he's home again.



As you may have guessed from a majority of these photos, this month has involved a lot of leaves. Leaves and raking. Each new raking seems to present a whole new slew of photographic opportunities and each of us have snapped our fair share of Violet In The Leaves. Violet Plays In The Leaves. Throwing Leaves On Violet. As if we were the first parents ever in the history of mankind to discover that kids playing in leaves equals cute! Violet Eating The Leaves, hell, here's Violet Raking The Damn Leaves.



I assume we will be the very same photographing idiots once the snow finally sticks and we bust out the awesome puffy, pink snowsuit Grammy sent you from Pennsylvania. So yeah, the leaves. Round about the fifth or sixth photo session in the leaves you became very suspect. What's with all this leaf bullshit, your expression seemed to say. I mean, I know you guys really dig the leaves and think the photos are cute and stuff, but seriously, these scratchy suckers aren't the most comfortable, you know? So can we maybe call it a year with the leaf photos and wrap up this little photo shoot?



My favorite set, though, were taken by your Pop when I wasn't around. I picked up the camera one day and discovered dozens of photos of you guys messing around in the front yard and it felt like someone squeezed my heart so hard it done stopped beating. Because this? It's the cutest damn photo I ever did lay eyes upon. Do you see the expression on that rough grizzly bear's face? That's what you bring out in your Papa.





The other day we just stood around the house letting you crawl all over the place. Reconnaissance to help us baby proof in advance of the highly mobile person you've become. We wanted to see what you'd get up to without adult interference. You know, a little fork fiddling in the plug here and some light plant snacking there. Every now and again you'd pause and shoot a busy, little grin our way. And then you came upon the lower kitchen cabinets. While hanging on the cabinet handles you pulled yourself up to standing and then tried to open the cabinet. Open and shut, open and shut. But because you were holding the handle for balance, after two or three rounds of open and shut you'd fall on your adorable, little hiney. Pop helicoptered nervously, lunging at you whenever you started to fall - he is definitely the worrier of the two of us - and I told him to stand back and let you figure it out. We argued for a minute and finally Pop said, "Look. I can't help it. It's how I am. If I see her fall, I'm always going to rush in to catch her."

And I believe he will.

Love,
Mama

What I Get Up To On The Weekends

If you haven't yet seen the People of Walmart website I highly recommend it. Warning, once you get in there it's tough to break away it's just such a magnificent display of humanity. I tell you this early in this post so the latter part of the post makes sense.

Don't ever say I'm not helpful.

Ever since the creation of my Money Makeover Serge and I shop at two stores every weekend. First we hit WalMart because, well, it's Walmart and shit be cheap, yo. But you'd be surprised...WalMart doesn't always have the best deals. Take chicken breasts (heh heh...I said breasts). Smiths grocery store usually runs a cheaper deal. Also, the WalMart nearest my home doesn't carry my brand of deodorant. Unscented Dry Idea, if you were wondering, and I'll be Goddamned if, twenty years into my deodorant-wearing career, I'm going to switch that shit up now. Dog food? $4 cheaper at WalMart. Point is, it's worth it to go to each store. We've budgeted $150 for groceries each week and we've kind of made a game out of it. Going over the budget is as disappointing as a bad date would've been in my single days. Now I get my weekend kicks by staying within my budget, y'all.

Not only do I get my kicks by coming in under budget, the excitement has ratcheted skyward by the constant looking out for the next Person of Walmart.
"There. In front of you, to your right." Serge stage whispers surreptitiously out the side of his mouth.
"I don't see!" I panic. These things have to be done lightning quick or your opportunity is lost forever. Like the time the tanned and tattooed guy with bleached hair and all leather ensemble, sans shirt, walked out of my life forever without my having snapped his photo.

Now, my sweaty hand clutches my Blackberry, ready to snap the photo.
"Two o'clock. TWO O'CLOCK!" Serge's eyebrows are wriggling like rabid caterpillars as he tries to signal me. "Too late, they just passed."
"What the fuck are you yelling the time for?
"I was giving you the location, ass. Two o'clock. In front of you to your right...Man in lady's sunglasses and short-shorts."
"Oh. I see. Yeah, okay."

It is in this way we Abbott and Costello our way through our Sundays at WalMart. Serge is always The Lookout Guy. He's good at that and prefers to leave the dirty work to me. I'm always The Triggerman. Sometimes sprinting far ahead of our latest Person of Walmart to snap the photo while pretending to text.

We're getting better. This is my first Person of Walmart:



Rookie photo to be sure. And safe, taken from behind like that. The shirt required the back view. But WalMart has certainly given birth to much better. And yesterday I snapped the evidence. I hit The People of WalMart jackpot. A man so decorated with bits and bobs and cloaks and capes that I had no trouble walking right up to him and asking if I could snap his photo. He thoughtfully licked his vanilla ice cream cone and said of course I could take his photo. I was about to snap it as he sat on a bench but he was taking this impromptu photo shoot very seriously. He obliged my request by standing at attention and blowing the horn that hung on a string around his neck. Now, this was no pansy horn either. He blew that motherfucker as loud as he could, over and over again, while WalMarters passed to and fro, shopping carts as full of goods as Santa's sleigh. Speaking of Santa, maybe dude was Santa in disguise. Could be, could be...



I would submit the photo to the actual People of Walmart website but I couldn't bear the snide comments it would surely accumulate. This man was as sweet as they come.

Photo of the Week

The Thumbs Up

I've had pretty bad acne lately. Lately, as in, the past ten years. Never a zit in junior high or high school but round about age twenty they attacked with a vengeance. And when they attack I can't help but defend myself. No, not so much defend myself as fight back, usually in the worst way possible. I've been known to use needles, safety pins and yes, once, in a pinch, I jacked up my chin with a thumbtack. Really, I can't be stopped. Much like some kind of athlete or performer, I go into a kind of zone when popping zits and you'd have to tie me up to stop me. So yeah, Britney gets in the zone to lip sync, Michael Phelps gets in the zone to be the best swimmer in the world and I excel at popping zits.

But my mad acne popping skills aren't the point here. Well, kind of...I'm getting there.

Last week I'd attacked my face and then had to face the consequences at work the next day. You know, giant scabs on my chin, periodic oozing. Sometimes, you can dot a little eyeliner on a zit and pass it off as a mole. Not these. What I mean to say here is my chin looked like a small, feral animal had landed on my face and maniacally massacred my chin before leaping off and running away.

The human resources department, also known as Janet, has been requesting we re-enroll in health care so we don't lose it. For much of October I'd been receiving this dire warning via loudspeaker, signs posted on the restroom and email. Why we have to re-enroll, even if we didn't want to change a thing about our health care, is beyond me but long ago I stopped questioning any workplace policies choosing either to do as told and make sure everyone knows about my compliance or, you know, NOT do as told and make sure no one knows of my transgression.

Stick with me here, I suppose this one requires a lot of exposition. So I was filling out my enrollment form and came to a part that confused me. Of course. These things are never easy, are they? I still can't fill out a W4 form without the assistance of at least four people. What number should I put here? If I put this will they take more or less out of my paycheck? What did you put? Is my husband a dependent? WHY ARE THEY STEALING ALL MY MONEY?!

I left the newsroom in search of The Human Resources Department A.K.A. Janet. Now, to get to Janet's office you have to pass the front desk. A security guard mans the desk full-time during the day fending off the crazies who think news anchors are speaking directly to them, the usual nutters. I don't know the security guard but I'd heard talk of his exuberance in the thumbs up area. Now, I'm not a big fan of the High Five or the Thumbs Up. I've been known to engage in a Fist Bump a time or two but I just can't get behind the High Five. I don't find much at work to High Five about and feel that a simple "Good Job" will always suffice. Still, people persist with the High Fiving, and really, that's great, you and your High Five. It's just not for me. And have you ever tried to get out of high fiving? It can't be done without looking like a Grade A douchebag. But following through with a High Five makes me feel like a Grade A douchebag so I'm always torn when this little workplace scenario presents itself to me. Mostly I capitulate and High Five about the basket of cookies a business sent to the newsroom or I High Five about how many unique users logged onto our website at work or I High Five about Jenny's birthday cake. And I lose a small piece of my soul each time. But you wouldn't know it. My mind screams NOOOOO FOR THE LOVE OF GOD NOOOOO but my face says GREAT WORK, EVERYONE! HIGH FIVES ALL AROUND.

Stupid High Five.

But it wasn't the High Five today, it was th most exuberant Thumbs Up I've ever had the misfortune of witnessing in my life. Directed at me, from the security guard. Not just a Thumbs Up, a Double Thumbs Up. Let's be clear here; I don't know this man, have never spoken to him in my life. I'd just peeped in The Human Resource Department's office and Janet wasn't there. I was walking back down the hall and in doing so, was directly facing the glass doors that lead to the front waiting room where the security guard sits behind a desk. I'm walking, minding my own business when I happen to glance his way. He was ready. He looks at me all serious-like and executes one of the biggest, most intense Double Thumbs Up I've ever seen. The kind that requires him to bounce his fists and thumbs up and down really hard to accentuate the Thumbs Up. You feel me? It was such an intense Double Thumbs Up that I was startled into automatically responding with a Double Thumbs Up in spite of myself.

And then I rounded the corner. I paused to let the following conversation play out in my head: Was he serious? I think he was serious! Nah, he was just being ironic. Like, Doesn't-Work-Suck-But-Here-We-Both-Are-Doing-Our-Work-Thang-Even-Though-Work-Sucks? Yeah, it was a sarcastic thumbs up. Right? No ma'am. That was a deadly serious Double Thumbs Up. A Here-We-Are-On-The-Job-And-Ain't-Life-Grand Thumbs Up. I couldn't let it go, this intense Double Thumbs Up from a stranger.

At this point a co-worker wandered by.
"Hey! Has that security dude every given you the Thumbs Up?"
"Who? Oh, him. Nope. No Thumbs Up."

Was this Thumbs Up especially for me? Did I just unknowingly enter myself in some sort of Thumbs Up Hello Program with the security guard? I thought I remembered hearing talk of this Thumbslinger, the security guard, and his affection for the Thumbs Up but I couldn't be sure so I went in search of a few test subjects.

"Psssst! MAX! RYAN!" I stage-whispered to a couple fellas in the newsroom. "C'MERE!" I motioned for them to follow me.

"So listen, I'm testing the security guard's Thumbs Up and I need you to pretend like you're checking if Janet's in her office then walk back down the hall and tell me what the security guard does." Neither boy seemed surprised at my workplace shenanigans and did as I asked. I waited around the corner, anxiously watching their faces as they walked down the hall to see how they reacted.

"So? Did you get the Thumbs Up?"

Neither got a Thumbs Up.

It was about this time, AFTER we'd been talking for five minutes, that Ryan decided to inform me that I had a little something on my face. A little something. I thought he meant, like, a piece of fluff or shirt lint so I leaned in and told him to brush it off.

"Um, no? You have blood running down your chin."

I bolted for the green room and he was right. The zit I'd mangled the night before had begun oozing blood. Oh, I wish I was kidding, you guys. I'm deadly fucking serious. Here I'd been gallivanting all over the goddamn building raving about the Thumbs Up and running Thumbs Up tests and a good chunk of coworkers had probably observed my bloody chin and said NOTHING! I'm not talking a small trickle either.

I spent the next half-hour with a wet blob of Kleenex attached to my face, blotting the blood like I'd cut myself shaving. Then a well-intentioned co-worker gave me a small, round Band-Aid. So that might have been my most embarrassing day at work, ever. Wait, no, this was. But it's over with. I hope. Maybe I've unwittingly entered myself into some sort of demoralizing Thumbs Up Hello Program? I'll keep you posted.

Can I Interest You In Some Toast?

I GUESS THE TOASTER IS HEADED OUT OF COUNTRY BECAUSE COMMENT #59 IS THE WINNER. LINDSAY C FROM CANADA, CONTACT ME AT MONICABIELANKO AT YAHOO DOT COM WITH YOUR INFO.

All right y'all. I'm cooking up another giveaway here because I like you and I like your comments and so you have to comment to win...wait for it...A BRAND NEW TOASTER! I was totally channeling Bob Barker there.

So I've got a brand-new-still-in-the-box-digital-toaster that can, like, toast a bagel or do the housework for you. It just looks fancy is all I'm saying. And it's General Electric. Which is a reputable company, no? I just mean it isn't some funky brand that is likely to break on you like some of the funky brands are inclined to do. But sometimes? I've had funky brands go the distance and the Sony or the Kenmore or whatever totally wanks out.

Anyway, if you're as stoked about toast as I am just leave a comment about your favorite Thanksgiving dish. Is it the turkey you crave or does that slippery brick of Jell-O just rock your world? Let me know and tomorrow night or maybe thursday morning I'll have Serge draw a number out of the hat (because he's SO good at it!) and that commenter gets a free toaster shipped to their home! Did I mention free? And toaster? TOAST! TOASTED THINGS! There is no limit to the toastiness.

Also, in keeping with the giveaway theme (if I've only done it once before can it be a theme?) here is my current favorite crock pot recipe.

COCONUT CHICKEN CURRY WITH SWEET POTATOES



4 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2 sweet potatoes, peeled and diced
2 yellow onions, chopped
2 green onions, diced
3 tsp curry powder
2 cloves garlic, minced
handful of ginger, grated
2/3 cup orange juice
2/3 cup chicken broth or stock
1 can coconut milk
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ground pepper
diced cilantro (optional)

Let's begin, shall we? First off, I usually grab three or four chicken breasts and poach them in boiling water for, oh, say 15 minutes, then I let 'em cool and slice 'em up and throw 'em in the crock pot. But have you ever tried to photograph raw chicken breasts? Not as fun as photographing real breasts, I can assure you. So let's just get on with the prettier stuff! Dice two medium-sized yellow onions. Like so:



Oh but wait, there's more! Onions, I mean. Slice up two green onions.



Throw all your onions in the crock pot and let's get cracking on the sweet potatoes. They're kind of a bastard because you gotta peel 'em, like this:



and then cut them into cubes, but man, are they worth it.



Now, grate a small handful of ginger right into the crock pot.



Did you know the super cool easy way to get the garlic cloves out of their papery skins? Just place a couple beneath your knife like so:



And then pound the knife with your fist like you're arguing with your husband and require pounding the coffee table for effect. Thusly:

The garlic cloves pop right out of their little garlic homes like little garlic nudists, see?



And then they're all ready to mince! Mince. That word makes me laugh. It's just so prissy.



Sorry about that last blurry photo but, well, it's hard to photograph and mince with wet hands. All right, all the choppy choppy is done! Now comes the easy pouring part. No, wait! Load in three teaspoons of curry powder! Now! Do it! After all, what is a curry without the curry?



Now just pour in about 2/3 a cup of chicken broth or stock and about the same amount of orange juice. I'm not real precise here with my measurements. In fact, last week I got crazy with the O.J. and it turned out great! Here, I'll show you!





Wait, don't stop now! There's more pouring to do. A whole can of coconut milk. Mmmmm yummy!



Okay, so I lied. You have to slice one more thing! But it's optional. If you feel like it, slice up some cilantro and throw it in! Because I'm not so hot with a knife I sometimes cheat and use scissors to cut the cilantro .



Now just sprinkle it into the crock pot!



Congratulations! You're done. Just salt and pepper and let it cook on low for six hours or so. You'll know when it's done. It looks like this!



Sorry about that black grouty stuff in my counter. It's just there all the time. I clean it a lot, I swear.



Enjoy! Now leave a comment and win a toaster!

Just Another Fun Email From A Mormon

I'm here! And I have lots to tell you! Including another exciting giveaway. But I don't have time just this second. In the meantime, enjoy yet another fun email from a bigot calling me a bigot.

Subject: Cagey, old white dudes.

Really. Not only are you a religious bigot but age and gender bigot too? No, sorry girl, you do have issues. I re-read Apostle Oaks talk, and he sounds much more intelligent than you, and is far more tolerant towards others.

You don’t belong in the press, you belong in a bar.

*Brigham Christiansen

LDS through and through (old and white but not as cagey as you)

_{*name changed}

Photo of the Week

Our favorite spot.

Cue The Violins

I always hesitate to write when I feel badly. It can be so exasperating to read someone's depressing blog, especially when, like me, they aren't going through anything that really warrants such tiresome blog posts. Or, if written properly, it can be something you relate to if, like me, you suffer an inclination towards depression. However, I have a feeling this ain't gonna be written with any particular eye towards relating, just an eye toward bitching.

I'm just having such a hard time, y'all.

See. How whiny was that? The answer is pretty whiny. Why the hard time, Monica? Your child is fantastic, you have a great job, yes, your husband is being kind of a douche lately although he would point the finger right back at you...so what's the big deal? What is your problem, lady? Why are you typing about yourself in the third person?

I don't know.

I do know I wish I could really wallow in my depression. You know, just really get into it like a pig in mud. I want to wear my depression like a winter parka so everyone can see. See me with my depression! See how sad I am! Are you worried about me? You should be! I'm deepreessssed. Instead I'm just guilt ridden for feeling down when other people have it a lot worse. I mean, did you see the lady that got attacked by the chimp on Oprah yesterday? That shit blew my mind. And I'm all upset? Whatevs, loser. At least you have a nose and a set of eyeballs. Unsettling shit. Except for Oprah. Fucking Oprah. That part in the middle of the interview when she's all "Here, let me just...you have a little something right here..." And she dabs at the faceless woman's face...wait, what? Okay, well, she dabs at where the woman's face used to be. That part? Oprah trying so hard to be all Compassionate-Interview-I-Am-So-Totally-One-Of-The-People. That bothered me as much as an episode of Entertainment Tonight in which Mary Hart drags a five minute interview with Jon Gosselin into a month of episodes. Coming up tomorrow, Jon tells us which Ed Hardy shirt is his favorite! You. Are. Going. To. Shit. Your. Pants when you see what he picks! (Da da da da da da <--Entertainment Tonight theme music) Or when Mary talks to "the amazing Cameron Diaz" about how daring and unafraid she is to do her own stunts while The Amazing Cameron grins modestly, like, yes I am fucking unbelievable, aren't I? And Mary Hart nearly tongue kisses her in her effort to keep Cam talking. Fuck Diaz. You want to see stunt? I'll show you stunt when I'm changing my child's shitty diaper while balancing her on my knee/against my body in an airplane bathroom that has no changing table. True story. That's a stunt. Driving a car while Tom Cruise is cabled to the top? Please.

By the way, that bit up there? About Oprah? How I described when she dabbed where the woman's face was with a tissue? I just reread it. "Oprah trying so hard to be all Compassionate-Interview-I-Am-So-Totally-One-Of-The-People." Brilliant shit. So descriptive. I am an amazing writer. Didn't that make you feel like you were right there? At the interview? God, I'm good.

If you ask me, Oprah jumped the shark after that road trip with Gail in '06, I think it was. When she didn't know how to pump gas and hadn't pumped gas since 1983. And we're supposed to watch and laugh as Oprah (she's so down to earth!) has to stay at motels/hotels normal folk make do with every damn day? Isn't it hi-fucking-larious to see Oprah at a Motel 6? And because she's so goddamn down to earth she visits diners and talks to townspeople all the while acting like she's in a foreign country (What is this menu item here? Jalapeno poppers? I've never heard of these jalapeno poppers) because Oprah? She doesn't usually do diners so isn't it SO awesomely funny to see her slumming? Fucking Oprah. Next!

Sorry. Not sure why I'm so mad at Oprah. I think it was the tissue with the chimp lady bit. Anyway. I'm not doing so good. But at least I have a face.

Motivational Math

It's been three months since this. I figure I've saved roughly $300. Just by not watching TV as much. I also stopped going for Subway sandwiches on my lunch break. God love the Five Dollar Foot Long. I'd say I spent at least $7 three times a week. At $21 dollars a week multiplied by about 14 weeks that's almost $300.

$600 SAVED. By doing nothing differently but packing a lunch from home and not watching so much HGTV.

In early October my total credit card debt was around $1,600. It is now $700.

Holla! Closing in, people, closing in!

Secondhand Style

I'm in kind of a loose, reckless mood this morning. One of those days when you just don't care and the mood can be dangerous to the career of one efforting the appearance of a responsible manager in the workplace.

Instead of dwelling on how tired I am and how I feel like I'm about to drown let us send this one in a positive direction, shall we? I have all these Secondhand Styles I've been meaning to post and just haven't got around to doing. As opposed to being the cheapest bargain out there I'm posting this one to illustrate multi-tasking with clothing. I am a rookie at this to be sure. Especially compared to this girl but I hope to get better at scouring my closet and pairing clothing I wouldn't normally put together to create new and interesting outfits out of old items.

$21



$26


You can find details on the first outfit here. In the second, the skinny jeans are from Wet Seal for $19.99. Honestly, I see no purpose in spending enormous amounts of cash on name brand jeans when you can find cheaper stuff that still fits great and can last as long as the pricey stuff. I bought the top/dress at the thrift store (Deseret Industries here in Utah) for $6. I've had the shoes for ages and can't remember where they come from so we can chalk those up to zero. Total for this easy and versatile ensemble is $26.