Wednesday, October 17, 2012


I am not a fashionista.  I'm pretty sure I’m not even fashionable.  I try to look good, but I hate shopping, and I usually get dressed in the dark before everyone else is up, or right after a workout when I’m already running late, so I have a bad habit of not really paying attention to what I put on.

I am vain, though, if that helps.

Although not fashion-savvy, I am not an idiot, either.  And the other day I realized, with a sinking feeling, that I was wearing really dorky pants.

See?  Help me.

I realized this smack in the middle of the day, when many people had already seen me in these pants, and I was busy enough that there was no way I was going to change out of them.  I would just live out my day in Dorkdom, and make a mental note to throw these out and get some new pants.

It gets better, though, because I have these pants in three colors:  navy (seen below), chocolate brown, and light khaki.  Dork Mania!

A few years ago I loved these pants.  I found them on sale at Sears (I shop for myself at Sears!  Ceaseless Dorkdom!) and they fit so well, and were flattering, and I have such a hard time finding pants that fit, and plus I hate shopping anyway, so I snapped up three pairs just like that.

I have paired these pants quite successfully for three years now with a variety of boots, scarves, sweaters and blazers.  I have worn them with sandals and tees in the warm weather.  They have been invaluable.  I have even received compliments on these pants.  But now, suddenly and without warning, they are unbearably out of style.  They probably were never IN style, but they had a certain unremarkable quality that led them to be called “classic.”   Classic means Dork if you’re not careful.

I swear I do not have a wedgie in this picture.  But Dork pants can be deceiving that way.

I need to get rid of these pants, if only to keep my teenager's respect.  My husband, by the way, thinks these pants are great.  (I married a Dork!)
But since, as I mentioned, I own three pairs of these beauties, tossing them all out at once means a big dent in my wardrobe.  I don't want to throw them out until I have some new pants.

This means I am going to have to go shopping.  Worse, I will have to enter a dressing room and TRY ON PANTS. The dressing room is going to have mirrors.  And it will probably be drafty.  It's almost enough to make me want to keep wearing the pants.

But no, I will resist that urge.  I will not go gently into that Dork Night.

Today, Dork Pants safely tucked away, I am wearing white corduroy jeans that are kind of high-waisted.  They're from the Macy's Petite Department. God help me, I'm addicted to Dorkness.

See you at the mall this weekend! 

Tuesday, October 2, 2012


This is our new dog.  His name is Baxter.

He is a Cockapoo/Bichon Frise mix.  In other words, a white, fluffy mutt.  We rescued him over Labor Day weekend, and so far, he is fitting in very well.  He is only a year or two old, and has a lot of puppy playfulness, so he has brought a lot of joy to this house.

We needed some joy in this house, because this summer we lost our previous and thoroughly beloved dog Oliver to cancer.  Oliver was a Westie/poodle mix.  In other words, a white, fluffy mutt.  He was only seven, and we were heartbroken.  This is a picture of Oliver in his healthy days.

Yes, we realize the two dogs look somewhat alike and that we might need therapy.

Actually, Baxter is our therapy.  We still miss Oliver, but it helps to love another dog.  We are having a lot of fun with Baxter.  Recently, I had some workmen in the house, and Baxter was just howling at the nail gun going off, so I strapped him in his car harness and we went to the park.  Then I remembered I hadn't had lunch, and was starving, so we went to McDonalds.

We went through the drive-thru and I ordered an extra hamburger for Baxter.   I took the bun and pickle off of it, and let him eat the burger in the backseat. 

It occurred to me that I had just taken my dog to lunch and the park, and we were really enjoying ourselves.  I chatted with him, and rolled down the window for him, and kept looking back to check on him. 

I probably should have had more children.