I'M WEARING DORKY PANTS

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! 

OUR NEW DOG

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.

YOM KIPPUR AT MY HOUSE

The kids have off of school today because it’s Yom Kippur.    

To all my Jewish friends:  I wish you a rich and meaningful holiday.  For those of us who are not Jewish, this is a day for kids to stay in their pajamas until their parents yell at them, which I just did.

 

I finally turned the TV off at 11:00 to moans of outrage.  Then I showed them the list of chores I had made for them to do:  strip their beds, practice their music, do homework and clean up their dresser tops, which look like this.

During my recitation of their chores, they mimed various suicide attempts:  shooting themselves in the head, hanging themselves with their bathrobe sash, instant heart failure.   

I took the remote away, so they could not turn the TV back on.  They lay on the floor for a moment, and then went upstairs.

I heard the familiar sounds of cap guns going off, doors slamming, giggling, and footsteps back and forth.   They will play until they fight, then I will break it up, then I will yell at them to get the chores done.  When they finally do, they will be hungry for lunch, which will require 45 minutes and 5 plates, two skillets and a lot of milk.   

Then it will be time to take my oldest out shopping for jeans that fit, because this is his only free day between now and Halloween.  When we get back from that, he will want to know what’s for dinner.

And I wonder why I can’t get anything done when they’re home.

MY SON'S CHECKUP

This week I took my first born for his 15 year old physical.  I love the kids' checkups.  I love when they get weighed and measured and the doctor tells them to stay away from soda and eat more vegetables and go to sleep early on Sunday nights to catch up on their rest.

And I love seeing this.

My son used to fit on that scale.  Whenever I'm in the office, I stare at the scale in disbelief.  How did that silly baby waving his legs in the air as they weighed him turn into the young man with size eleven shoes?

In the first year of your baby's life, you have checkups every 3 months.  My sister and I would get so excited for these checkups.  Mired in a routine of sleepless nights, nursing, and cranky nap times, we would look forward to these visits as a big day out.  We would call each other up and talk about what we were going to wear, including a full face of makeup.   It felt so great to be at the doctor for a fun reason - instead of fever or a cough that kept you up all night - so getting nicely dressed was a good way to celebrate that.

Yesterday my son stood on the regular scale.  He was 5'11 and 147 pounds.  I wore red capris and a partial face of makeup.  Afterward, he helped me return some things at Ikea.  When we got home he was starving, so he made a huge batch of pancakes for he and his brother for lunch.  He put a jalapeno pepper in one of them and declared it delicious.

Growing up is weird and wonderful.

BACK TO SCHOOL FUN

My husband and I had two Back to School Nights this week - one for the middle school and one for the high school.

Since my husband is an extremely mature, organized, thoughtful person who cares about his sons' educations, he brought a note pad to the evenings so that he could write down helpful ideas as they occurred to him.

He even made a list for himself.

Alas, he did not have time to complete everything on the list.  There was simply no time to go to the bathroom, much less flood it.  Back to School Nights are so hectic!

We learned all kinds of things about our childrens' teachers, grading, curriculum and schedules.  I don't know how the kids do it.  I was exhausted.

In French class, my husband passed me a note in which he asked me to the Homecoming Dance.

I said yes.

TOO MUCH TOO SOON

I was in the checkout line last week grabbing a few last-minute items for dinner, and I saw this.

No.  People ... please ... no.  Are we really going to start talking about Christmas?  I still have swim goggles on the floor of my car.  Seeing this

is bad enough.  I don't want to think about Halloween costumes, even though my kids do.  Before you know it, people are going to have scarecrows on their lawn, and mini-haystacks, and pumpkins, and all other manner of autumnal decorating.  That's bad enough, but ...

Holiday baking?   I am begging you, do not use "cookie" and "swap" in the same sentence until November 1st.


I still have beach towels in my laundry bin from Labor Day weekend.  I push my face into them and smell the chlorine just before I wash them, so I can have one last scent of summer.  Yes, I am pathetic, thanks for noticing.

Are you thinking about the holidays?  Am I the only one that still wishes it was summer?

LUNCH AND SHOPPING

Like many of you, I spent some time at a mall this weekend.  I happened to be browsing in a Banana Republic store with my teenage son.  While he was checking out the sunglasses, I saw this darling dress.

I adore gray wool, and the shape of this dress is a nice classic style that I love.  Hm.  I looked closely at the dress and saw the tag.  I could not believe my eyes.

Sorry, the picture is bad.  I’ll translate – the tag says Size 00.  Double Zero.  The dress is a Size 00. 

Do you know what this means?  It means that a Size 0 is too big for some women.  It means there are women who get into a dressing room and try on a dress and sigh “Oh, dear, this Zero is just hanging off of me.  I need a smaller size!”

While I was pondering this phenomenon, my son came over, ready to leave.  I showed him the tag.  He rolled his eyes.  Then he pointed out that double zero means the same as regular zero, because 0+0=0, and 0x0=0, so the double zero thing is, basically, completely meaningless.

My son is an excellent math student.

Then we went to lunch at Red Robin.  I ordered a delicious sandwich that came in a basket, and the basket had paper on it, and the paper had this writing on it.

OK, another bad picture.  It says “Fries are far as the stomach can eat”.  Does the double zero know about this offer?

At the mall, stores want you to wear a Size 00, but restaurants want you to stuff your face with unending fries.  It's very confusing.  This is why I tend to avoid malls.

 I got the fruit salad instead.  It was mighty tasty.