cellllll.uh.brate good times, COME ON! let's celebrate.

<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Warning: I'm in kind of a crazy-giddy-do-weird-stuff-and-laugh-really-hard-about-it-for-no-reason-much-to-the-annoyance-of, well, everyone-around-me mood.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiht32QX78zjsKbbqLTXypsn71habhBrBt3dYvH9QmR6kQA-4NmKotP4ellAWg0qrorKvuIMtSgXQ_rkydmlnKhO0mqjUNQCIdJDiSFMlzmT_D7zqtH-Tk2IF45qx3EUq0N01WHwppkTa2x/s1600/II1britt3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="347" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiht32QX78zjsKbbqLTXypsn71habhBrBt3dYvH9QmR6kQA-4NmKotP4ellAWg0qrorKvuIMtSgXQ_rkydmlnKhO0mqjUNQCIdJDiSFMlzmT_D7zqtH-Tk2IF45qx3EUq0N01WHwppkTa2x/s400/II1britt3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">I don't often get this way, actually. But when I do, it's serious. I lose all control. See those karate kicks? That's what I'm talking about. Random. And juvenile. And inappropriate. [Editor's note: But also...entertaining...] </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFLlZdUGnjjkpFlt5_L1449QjFY7s855XFjcCaxlmFsf_VjzOEBKYDMZqUmdog112PzmEmtlUTDiR8agQVmbI-LIcojJe1lY3gbfA_PrtjItclzJarQ1FNSlegiOHAc27OnN_7Wmn44_Bi/s1600/II1britt2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFLlZdUGnjjkpFlt5_L1449QjFY7s855XFjcCaxlmFsf_VjzOEBKYDMZqUmdog112PzmEmtlUTDiR8agQVmbI-LIcojJe1lY3gbfA_PrtjItclzJarQ1FNSlegiOHAc27OnN_7Wmn44_Bi/s400/II1britt2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Shoes: Mudd brand. Jeans: American Eagle Outfitters. Shirt: Gap. Belt: F21. Necklaces/bracelets: Who the heck knows. Flower: gifted.</span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiztkFyNcnOuuhlfuLhXXx2KGkZSY4U7B6rWQBT3bMqxhm6b6J_ifVsndssGoCigiJK0YoLlIyx23SiQPQEAJyQhsoEN36WA8hVys_S_74q0jsApZW3LSj-F5_9ixdAo8q5tsjk8JIrYhbA/s1600/II1britt1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiztkFyNcnOuuhlfuLhXXx2KGkZSY4U7B6rWQBT3bMqxhm6b6J_ifVsndssGoCigiJK0YoLlIyx23SiQPQEAJyQhsoEN36WA8hVys_S_74q0jsApZW3LSj-F5_9ixdAo8q5tsjk8JIrYhbA/s400/II1britt1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">  </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-lLNTOrJQXuE10DCtOjO_gV_h8oS5vPeTiySxe1oErJRrFtt48LcSTlur9JtYV2TVLH21rljK7rHlyfqq9bitn4_0mU2q3G8C1bdyhTuCft0wEMnB2yd0riZxFTMWqHkicvGWiOoUJTSd/s1600/II1britt4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-lLNTOrJQXuE10DCtOjO_gV_h8oS5vPeTiySxe1oErJRrFtt48LcSTlur9JtYV2TVLH21rljK7rHlyfqq9bitn4_0mU2q3G8C1bdyhTuCft0wEMnB2yd0riZxFTMWqHkicvGWiOoUJTSd/s400/II1britt4.jpg" width="345" /></a></div><div align="center">Chances are, you're laughing so hard [Editor's note: She's flattering herself again; you and I both know that you're just rolling your eyes. And for good reason.] at today's pics that you (a) haven't even noticed what I'm wearing, (b) don't even care how it came together, and/or (c) forgot you left the iron on downstairs and need to go turn it off. Stat. Go ahead. I'll wait. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">So, for many of you, New Year's Eve parties involve lots of sequin and gold and fanciness. For me, it (ideally!) involves a small gathering of close friends and family. And lots of kids. And games and food and attempts to squelch the urge to turn the clocks ahead 3 hours to "ring in the new year" at 9 and get home and to bed by 10 because I'm a granny and can't seem to stay awake that long anymore and, really, what's the difference, the new year's here when we wake up tomorrow.<br /><br />Geez. Those of you who are not yet 31 are reeeeeeally scared of the middle-ageness you're seeing evidenced here. Live it up now, you young fries. Live it up.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">ANYwee. I'm wearing my favorite black button-up, some pegged jeans because they just seemed to match my crazy unexpected mood (and I think they're Maybe Awesome here), and some heels (mary janes! I love.). Not wanting attention drawn to my feet, I kept footwear neutral.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Sequined belt tied in a cuh-razy knot. Tons of random jewelry. And my favorite lucky flower headband (recognize it from <a href="http://adayinlifetoo.blogspot.com/2010/12/youre-never-fully-dressed-without-smile.html">here</a> and <a href="http://adayinlifetoo.blogspot.com/2010/12/just-pleasant-sabbath-daycirca-1940.html">here</a>?). I'm loving how I feel a little glamorous but can still do whatever my mood desires. Bring it on, new year! I love ya already. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Happy 2010.</div>

cellllll.uh.brate good times, COME ON! let's celebrate.

Warning: I'm in kind of a crazy-giddy-do-weird-stuff-and-laugh-really-hard-about-it-for-no-reason-much-to-the-annoyance-of, well, everyo...

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an apple a day...

<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoPG-Aq6PvGLxi557wVwQ8eKOu-wE3jmmSLfYhe49kottybcEnwK4_s7Ac_1-7G-jGqMRcfOfKLD7TNsaHvec9PRbYZLmdflq5se7tg9ab48aaUX9U4gGLucBe-5nCmDNqgaFO_0BShw48/s1600/HH1britt2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="380" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoPG-Aq6PvGLxi557wVwQ8eKOu-wE3jmmSLfYhe49kottybcEnwK4_s7Ac_1-7G-jGqMRcfOfKLD7TNsaHvec9PRbYZLmdflq5se7tg9ab48aaUX9U4gGLucBe-5nCmDNqgaFO_0BShw48/s400/HH1britt2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Shoes: American Eagle Outfitters. Jeans: bullhead brand. Shirts: thrifted. Belt: F21. Necklace: Don't recall. Earrings: Black pearl oyster from Hawaii.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMueYzP4WVxIOTYAHGJKmc-xsGwf_t38OXZTgWqIB4-IO1ghvsDa5TtFSKvtl0UPKRHKMwUChYfaithBVcoeTst1Ufcjmw4Qqqg-NJLzqxrsc2I-gyte9LSHU7tFaltzXdIqo1KTq6E22/s1600/HH1britt1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMueYzP4WVxIOTYAHGJKmc-xsGwf_t38OXZTgWqIB4-IO1ghvsDa5TtFSKvtl0UPKRHKMwUChYfaithBVcoeTst1Ufcjmw4Qqqg-NJLzqxrsc2I-gyte9LSHU7tFaltzXdIqo1KTq6E22/s400/HH1britt1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_EXUuKuQSQLY3jgBJ75UajC0tNUg3SejKT4kdZSlqFfuyhMx0PJgOdHWmKzQIxr20J2lyoywB8kQL2wKfkzIQgST3Vn_gC9UbXTWoo-xD5Bfmb2m_fOqDhGQK2_I1MfcFzkoeoogjqAX/s1600/HH1britt3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="380" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_EXUuKuQSQLY3jgBJ75UajC0tNUg3SejKT4kdZSlqFfuyhMx0PJgOdHWmKzQIxr20J2lyoywB8kQL2wKfkzIQgST3Vn_gC9UbXTWoo-xD5Bfmb2m_fOqDhGQK2_I1MfcFzkoeoogjqAX/s400/HH1britt3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div align="center">Don't get me wrong, guys. I'm in a great mood today. Sure, I've got a little head congestion and I think I pulled something in my back from shoveling some majorly heavy, wet snow yesterday. But that's really nothing for a girl my age. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">But when your normally sassy 2-year-old wakes up as sick as a...button?... [Editor's note: Somehow I think the mixed analogy is losing something in translation.] ...or sick as a whatever-object-universally-connotes-extreme-sickness, it plops a dark, goopy cloud right on top of your silver lining. Function today, people. I've got a kid to love.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Jumping-off point: black skinnies. Because I've been busting out the skirts for a long time now, and Mother Nature dumped some serious snow on us last night (probably trying to cover up the evidence of our puppy's existence in the backyard...thank yooou, Big Momma N.) [Editor's note: 'Big Momma N'? Where did THAT come from?! Gross.], and I just wanted to be warm. I really like experimenting with mixing patterns lately, so I paired a kind-of-striped button-up with a kind-of-flowery shirt. The red and taupe elements go well together, and, personally, I think the combo is Unexpected and Maybe Awesome.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Wide black braided belt, metallic flats, cuff the jeans because sometimes I just feel like a cuffed jean, throw on a necklace that probably wasn't needed but I felt a little blah without it, and viola. Oh, and this is what my hair looks like straight-out-of-the-shower. Frizzalicious. Because my sick 2-year-old woke up right then and needed me, and, frankly, she'll win that battle every time. Easy. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">But, after all that, I was still a little chilly (cranked up the heater, but house takes a while to warm up), so I pulled on some of Pocket's socks and the biggest, comfiest, thickest sweater I own. And I'm off to rock-a-bye-baby.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipta9b6Fez5fqSudLXnHQxLX9aKl4Iesd9Fo0JcBvdSBn2IQAlaLwl0KwNlo8X4ZqHTcXfA65w3PZnhJJ2mBXc2VFD4wjmffRahtD5221J8IMrgomIxw39uP9tc-Ot_7Gj95jZHVjerq2_/s1600/HHbritt94.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipta9b6Fez5fqSudLXnHQxLX9aKl4Iesd9Fo0JcBvdSBn2IQAlaLwl0KwNlo8X4ZqHTcXfA65w3PZnhJJ2mBXc2VFD4wjmffRahtD5221J8IMrgomIxw39uP9tc-Ot_7Gj95jZHVjerq2_/s400/HHbritt94.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Happy Thursday.</div>

an apple a day...

  Shoes: American Eagle Outfitters. Jeans: bullhead brand. Shirts: thrifted. Belt: F21. Necklace: Don't recall. Earrings: Black pearl oy...

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the whole truth & nothing but the truth...mostly...

<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqORA2_82M08Uhp2AcIxgAFbVfbYPqUAWSw0EIXUZV7xCd5xd8lwIHuBMTBHLDwesDfSji9QX3Rk9x5D0TRcZRva2-VniXOoOSAdOz5FtDTqWNe2N8HtJfEVs6IyhzFKybjtkm57FZm8Io/s1600/GG1britt2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqORA2_82M08Uhp2AcIxgAFbVfbYPqUAWSw0EIXUZV7xCd5xd8lwIHuBMTBHLDwesDfSji9QX3Rk9x5D0TRcZRva2-VniXOoOSAdOz5FtDTqWNe2N8HtJfEVs6IyhzFKybjtkm57FZm8Io/s400/GG1britt2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">boots: Target. tights, shirt, & necklace: gifted. skirt: sam's club (wait, sam's club?! is she serious? yes.) trench: F21. scarf: a total tourist shop in Sweden.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdY_pYokQgTQbz4PGFhRPVQz9n04MBR64nSAmmCI-9BbMO8osDFlQ0HFQBNIgYxgj4WLN4ZtuxERwgtjnea6w2_RgY1KtVtZX4sPh8G4TjvXlvC8Ef71i3IixOsgrLEfc2c6B5agS1HyOZ/s1600/GG1britt1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdY_pYokQgTQbz4PGFhRPVQz9n04MBR64nSAmmCI-9BbMO8osDFlQ0HFQBNIgYxgj4WLN4ZtuxERwgtjnea6w2_RgY1KtVtZX4sPh8G4TjvXlvC8Ef71i3IixOsgrLEfc2c6B5agS1HyOZ/s400/GG1britt1.jpg" width="347" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZrxlJavInQpbwhyphenhyphenCuYb6ON-r8Pnllo9QYWkyUO4UTr4ZsvnKlwPZVRxEP6Qlv0jUzHJK5zG-yImEm7Mk87QzvPgCIvObYhfk7wAQbMqly0ndh9PxbVhV1Q_OMDygLfmVrrYJydS01PBJ8/s1600/GG1britt3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZrxlJavInQpbwhyphenhyphenCuYb6ON-r8Pnllo9QYWkyUO4UTr4ZsvnKlwPZVRxEP6Qlv0jUzHJK5zG-yImEm7Mk87QzvPgCIvObYhfk7wAQbMqly0ndh9PxbVhV1Q_OMDygLfmVrrYJydS01PBJ8/s400/GG1britt3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">The truth is: I love colored tights. These beauties (which I got in the mail yesterday from my cute friend Val) were absolutely my jumping-off point today. Here's the best part about them: they are super-dee-dooper bright. Here's the problem with them: their brightness.<br /><br />My biggest challenge in starting with such a you-could-see-these-babies-from-space accessory [Editor's note: Are tights accessories? Hmmm...discuss.] was finding a balance of (a) more neutral items so I didn't become a walking disco-ball-o'-blinding-brightness and (b) at least a little bit of color so not ALLLL attention is on my knees.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Because, really. Knees? If that's a Top-10 physical feature, I'm toast.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">I considered wearing some chocolate walking shorts with the tights. But I thought the darkness of the brown would be a little jarring right next to this particular shade of blue. Enter: olive corduroy skirt. Not too dark, not too light, not too colorful, not too dull. Just a little too big, but nothing a few safety pins in back couldn't fix. </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">[Editor's note: Most of my pencil skirts, okay, ALL of them, are too big because I bought them to wear low on my waist. This isn't where pencil skirts should rest! It's way more flattering to have them fit the woman's form (even if you're shaped like a certain square-pants cartoon character, like me--at least TRY to fake it), up higher on the waist. So. I've been tailoring all my skirts to fit...with varying degrees of permanence & success...]</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">A white cotton v-neck shirt with pretty detailing was a quiet yet feminine addition to an outfit full of solid, fairly masculine pieces. Neutral short trench coat, boots, necklace, and hairstyle. (I wanted to show off the little crimpies in my hair from yesterday's <a href="http://adayinlifetoo.blogspot.com/2010/12/and-never-twain-shall-meet.html">braids</a>...they're subtle here, but I like them.) With the trench belt, aNOTHER belt would be overkill, but the eyelet trim of this shirt is visually interesting without being too bold. Add a feminine, patterned scarf (untied because there's already a lot going on around my neck; I felt like I needed something vertical) that gives purpose to the bright blue tights but in a more toned-down way, and a blue beaded necklace as a bracelet. Done and done.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">I dunno, guys. Did it work? Still not sure about this one... </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Happy Wednesday.</div>

the whole truth & nothing but the truth...mostly...

boots: Target. tights, shirt, & necklace: gifted. skirt: sam's club (wait, sam's club?! is she serious? yes.) trench: F21. scarf...

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and never the twain shall meet...

<div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwmEn2qVa-ZIZcWSUjTNer7bA8-ZjfLu2ivvbgYcYc7_boC3RwnprrtDBZgadW_ukmKNxY5kckUvcwA5AL4gLD1fLhZtc_bQuE6hsv7DhobXXRS2ROzf8ISbkUM95fqCTwYx9laVw3CCu3/s1600/FF1britt2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwmEn2qVa-ZIZcWSUjTNer7bA8-ZjfLu2ivvbgYcYc7_boC3RwnprrtDBZgadW_ukmKNxY5kckUvcwA5AL4gLD1fLhZtc_bQuE6hsv7DhobXXRS2ROzf8ISbkUM95fqCTwYx9laVw3CCu3/s400/FF1britt2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Boots: Target. Socks: Don't recall. Skirt & cardigan: Gap. Button-up: Some nice tailor-man in Germany. Necklaces & hair-thing: gifted. Belt: Pocket's. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8xs8NDM9gxXq3vdxqDvvHi-R_kKrhIFPDOtJxxJJTmamwUa9cF98j9EDiABwDVvDljd9ILm0-6L_iPGBWaRiwKnGsDVz7KUNj7r_XSeu19qsdt3xvrRYtBaOu1GsKud6h-kmtssHK4Ot/s1600/FF1britt1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8xs8NDM9gxXq3vdxqDvvHi-R_kKrhIFPDOtJxxJJTmamwUa9cF98j9EDiABwDVvDljd9ILm0-6L_iPGBWaRiwKnGsDVz7KUNj7r_XSeu19qsdt3xvrRYtBaOu1GsKud6h-kmtssHK4Ot/s400/FF1britt1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_SJF-xvGctEEyU6WM2_Fwu5frWd5S_QTd4_HmKBioUHIGNOEQVAI0PkY5eX_j3eM8HZZPElGpZ1icEZDkz3_SLtZCUWo2xq4E08LfqAN5if6mgNL70UwMuZSEKflCo0LrkP1G-DBI9r59/s1600/FF1britt3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_SJF-xvGctEEyU6WM2_Fwu5frWd5S_QTd4_HmKBioUHIGNOEQVAI0PkY5eX_j3eM8HZZPElGpZ1icEZDkz3_SLtZCUWo2xq4E08LfqAN5if6mgNL70UwMuZSEKflCo0LrkP1G-DBI9r59/s400/FF1britt3.jpg" width="346" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Ever wondered what would happen if you mixed hippie + preppy + glam + backwoods + schoolgirl + some-other-look-that-I'm-forgetting-but-that-obviously-play-a-role-in-this-ensemble-too? Wonder no more. And, now that you can spit out THAT space-consuming wad of mental chewing gum, your mind is free to explore other interesting realms... </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">...such as why WOULD that chicken ever cross a road? Obviously, its coop and entire social network, not to mention its nest and food, are all right there. Really, people, their crossing the road makes no sense. So, yes, you're free to ponder topics such as this now. You're welcome.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Today's jumping-off point: striped cardigan. I haven't worn it in months, maybe years, because it's a little oddly shaped, and the colors are a bit too much <em>that's-</em>what-little-girls-are-made-of-sugary for my normal persona. Anyway, I've been trying to figure out how I could tone down the sickly-sweet pastelliness without making it seem totally out of place in an outfit.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Baby blue button-up ties in the pastel but doesn't cater to an aura of newborn-babe. Green floral pencil skirt courteously nods to the mint green in the sweater but brings in an interesting, more grown-up print (not to mention turns the green into more of an olive/forest hue). Overdo the accessories, bring in some brown leather (who am I kidding? like my boots are real leather...) to ground the whole look, and add my favorite above-the-knee socks. Because it's cold. And they're grey. And warm. And not tights. (Nothing against tights [love them!], but it was time to change things up a bit.)</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Unexpected and Maybe Awesome: the double braids in the hair. A mildly sophisticated twist on a classic girl's hairdo. For some reason, I love how this turned out. </div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Know what else I love? Getting through a post without any Editor's notes. Again, you're welcome. Man, I'm just so generous today, I can hardly stand it.</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">Happy Tuesday.</div>

and never the twain shall meet...

  Boots: Target. Socks: Don't recall. Skirt & cardigan: Gap. Button-up: Some nice tailor-man in Germany. Necklaces & hair-thing:...

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So...you're SAYin' there's a chance?!

<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_9JOaOrN5pm87S1wPA0oN_lNM9GRyWqPW8YOaLtisMCaDxXWDejB4FjcKCk_pBXM7uSpsplYJpFwuzquyGdWLvatkDE0fkIrrmRYdG36fLpuZZolBGrJnJXCZXoUT-GPbsyalNIMi81Y/s1600/EE1britt3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555466029843147170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg_9JOaOrN5pm87S1wPA0oN_lNM9GRyWqPW8YOaLtisMCaDxXWDejB4FjcKCk_pBXM7uSpsplYJpFwuzquyGdWLvatkDE0fkIrrmRYdG36fLpuZZolBGrJnJXCZXoUT-GPbsyalNIMi81Y/s400/EE1britt3.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">Shoes: don't recall. Jeans & turtleneck: Gap. Belt: F21.<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRXCdTx56CB79P6X-3U0dHtT41BkIv7jfokFnxwTX75B0tG9r1OCBwzyymjKRJook203n9eLCCy9pyQ2XlC0TMwmKmAHfwMk4PEsCoCdGxP7SG2QTeTjPUWWGhr27VeZ3WNyhJWZtpn_l/s1600/EE1britt1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555465700881361634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRXCdTx56CB79P6X-3U0dHtT41BkIv7jfokFnxwTX75B0tG9r1OCBwzyymjKRJook203n9eLCCy9pyQ2XlC0TMwmKmAHfwMk4PEsCoCdGxP7SG2QTeTjPUWWGhr27VeZ3WNyhJWZtpn_l/s400/EE1britt1.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 348px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwGuRXTWAwQ0oWBfnJJbJe6s3OmLFAILS5DUIT3OJiovAbZlLK7n_ztZB_eMSnOg57VDZ0lIFtlMilVMktSlv3NTZHRYiQFyN_2yxXrZVxDcUI7kg0naSuKgFx2OvJSFaj4af6UGHSLWkQ/s1600/EE1britt2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555465565981914418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwGuRXTWAwQ0oWBfnJJbJe6s3OmLFAILS5DUIT3OJiovAbZlLK7n_ztZB_eMSnOg57VDZ0lIFtlMilVMktSlv3NTZHRYiQFyN_2yxXrZVxDcUI7kg0naSuKgFx2OvJSFaj4af6UGHSLWkQ/s400/EE1britt2.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a> It all started this morning, as I lay in my flannel-sheeted bed thinking about how comfortably toasty I was and wouldn't it be glorious to stay that way all day? (Answer: Yes. Yes it would.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Alas, we're hosting a family gathering at our house tonight, and even though I had an excellent alternative idea to move the whole party into the bedroom and I could hostess from the comfort of said toasty bedding (an idea to which, when voiced hopefully by myself, Pocket didn't even respond. Just kept on whistling in the shower like I wasn't being serious or something. I was.), it appeared that I had to make a get-dressed decision. But what could I wear that would simulate toastiness AND be party-appropriate?</div><div><br /></div><div><div>Dare I wrap myself, toga-style, in my penguin-and-polar-bear-printed flannel sheet all day? I have belts enough to keep it G-rated...or PG, tops. But my tentative hopes were sufficiently dashed as the whistling in the shower continued, uninterrupted. Drat.</div><div><br /></div></div><div>Enter: the turtleneck. Although I've mentioned how I'm shaped a like a broad-shouldered box, I thought it might work if I added a skinny belt about mid-height. [Editor's note: After seeing today's pics of myself, I don't love this look, toasty or not. But now I'm committed.] Kept the hair up-and-out in a topknot bun because it serves three purposes: (1) I'm lazy and didn't want to "do" my hair today (heh), (2) I'm readily available as a librarian fill-in, which are probably in high demand this time of year, and (3) even though reason #1 is sufficient, I actually didn't want to lose all view of my neck in a forest of hair. </div><div><br /></div><div>Pair everything with a pair of dark trouser jeans (that admittedly don't fit very well anymore...sometimes "wearing what you own" can be a downer when things don't fit!) and some animal-print flats. I love an accessory or two, but what with the super-shiny belt, I wanted to keep things basic. Which is why I stuck with simple diamond stud earrings and, of course, a single silver bracelet. For security. Because I'm 5 and can't go anywhere without it.<br /><br /></div><div>Happy Monday.</div><br /></div>

So...you're SAYin' there's a chance?!

Shoes: don't recall. Jeans & turtleneck: Gap. Belt: F21. It all started this morning, as I lay in my flannel-sheeted bed thinking ...

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Decisions...decisions...

<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJa0YaH6a4duDiUu5ERLCup7QjbE8qnk-kQe4oCzWvUCezjYIgvfDZ-vrJsNkwpOTAdYdZa3LAkeCEgm02lCfG4BwkbsttNQFlDTNr1QttjzxEhGTI6GZKTQMWmoB91fvRexOV_KNF25TM/s1600/DD1britt1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555123206056062914" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJa0YaH6a4duDiUu5ERLCup7QjbE8qnk-kQe4oCzWvUCezjYIgvfDZ-vrJsNkwpOTAdYdZa3LAkeCEgm02lCfG4BwkbsttNQFlDTNr1QttjzxEhGTI6GZKTQMWmoB91fvRexOV_KNF25TM/s400/DD1britt1.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 348px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"> Boots & belt: Kohls. Tights: F21. Skirt & denim jacket: Gap. White tee: Don't recall. Scarf: Smiths Marketplace. Bracelet & barrettes: gifted.<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9cL5hs-ui6ZWJkyhwKl82d3AkYd4AC3Tv1lyQcUe7lNxMoP6490BK6od9G1PyVDdpY1j7m0a475sMn56XrR8jC6WUbYlD5p88LVezGiS_fww9WtPWeVlaorCRrILELOQPoRqNqdl4xsw/s1600/DD1britt3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555123056567729922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-9cL5hs-ui6ZWJkyhwKl82d3AkYd4AC3Tv1lyQcUe7lNxMoP6490BK6od9G1PyVDdpY1j7m0a475sMn56XrR8jC6WUbYlD5p88LVezGiS_fww9WtPWeVlaorCRrILELOQPoRqNqdl4xsw/s400/DD1britt3.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 348px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuJMGAV03btYTBytrzb6ubNS7DeF26Un7SOuJ5LYBFg6K2TtitnhzyMs4pd5QbUkHpo7CzQY2Ikb3VrsO6LA9Re-N0A5d5Kw3YyDdaOmFsnI39fHPZUtZcu96s53l2RDG47eB1au9UUOmr/s1600/DD1britt2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555122903747948178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuJMGAV03btYTBytrzb6ubNS7DeF26Un7SOuJ5LYBFg6K2TtitnhzyMs4pd5QbUkHpo7CzQY2Ikb3VrsO6LA9Re-N0A5d5Kw3YyDdaOmFsnI39fHPZUtZcu96s53l2RDG47eB1au9UUOmr/s400/DD1britt2.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 348px; CURSOR: hand" /></a> Today's jumping-off point was comparable to those synchronized divers in the Olympics. Well, kind of. Actually...not really. Here's the deal: just because one thing (i.e., diving. Specifically diving with talent. Not the will-she-cannon-ball-or-belly-flop kind of diving I tend to entertain all pool-goers with) is super cool doesn't necessarily mean that it will be twice as cool if it's doubled in exact replication and judged accordingly. Despite what those old double mint gum commercials would have you believe.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Except in the case of synchronized diving. Because, really. Kind of incredible.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Wow. Tangent. Anyway. Basically, I had two equally exciting jumping-off points, each of which held their own in this we've-all-seen-something-like-this-before kind of outfit. Guesses? No? That's probably because now you're thinking about that one time where that one synchronized diving team got robbed and it cost them a medal and you were so mad you spit your sunflower seed shells at the TV. No? Just me? Oh, okay.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Oversized salmon-colored bracelet & houndstooth<br />scarf. I love love love love love. [Editor's note: On the scarf, I found this sticker from the manufacturer: "Softer than cashmere?" The question mark kills me. C'mon, marketing department! Be bold! Your future in scarf sales just might depend upon it, and you've worked too hard to throw it all away with a punctuational slip of the proverbial tongue.] [Assistant Editor's note: Wha?...]</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">I like how the houndstooth is b&w and will go with anything. As a classic pattern itself, I decided to pair it today with another classic color/texture combo--denim & khaki. I also added a wide black pinstripe belt (that originally came with <a href="http://adayinlifetoo.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-cant-be-sure-but-i-think-i-deserve.html">this</a> skirt) for waist definition. And I thought the pinstripe would add a little class to the fairly casual look. I was deciding between black or red tights, and I finally decided on red because (a) they're actually more orangey than red, and (b) I therefore thought they would add a little boost, backup-singer-style, to the bracelet. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Tall black boots and a little color in the hair, and we're done here. Overall, I like it. Highly functional and comfortable. Although some people (my mother included) might wrinkle an eyebrow at the denim-to-church decision, I'm okay with it. Feel like it was upgraded a bit with a little accessorization. [Editor's note: I have GOT to stop making up words. My excuse is that I'm just too lazy to rewrite a sentence to make an actual word work... Please accept my apologizations.] </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">[Assistant Editor's note: That was Editor's idea of a joke. At least you don't work here. Pity me.]</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Happy Sunday!</div><br /></div>

Decisions...decisions...

Boots & belt: Kohls. Tights: F21. Skirt & denim jacket: Gap. White tee: Don't recall. Scarf: Smiths Marketplace. Bracelet ...

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Seriously? You think I'm getting dressed today?

<div align="center">Sorry, my friends, to disappoint. (Or, for those of you to whom it applies: You're welcome.) But it's not happening today. I even walked the dog this morning in pajamas. My neighbors are so happy with me. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">I am, however, excited to announce that over the coming days, I'll be sporting some new apparel/accessories. Like houndstooth. And diamonds (the real deal! A little Pauly Pocket surprise). And great stuff in between.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">My creative juices are flowing. As is the eggnog.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">As for today's fashion inspiration, I got nothin'. I hope to stay in my [Editor's note: read: Pocket's] pjs pretty much all day (so far, so good...) and watch my 2-year-old dance around the house in nothing but her diaper and some new sparkly red shoes. Life is rarely more glorious than this.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Happy Christmas.</div>

Seriously? You think I'm getting dressed today?

Sorry, my friends, to disappoint. (Or, for those of you to whom it applies: You're welcome.) But it's not happening today. I even wa...

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i feel like i'm forgetting something...

<div align="center">it's my birthday today. addie's helping me with this post. she's sporting her favorite kitty pjs and her not-favorite-but-moderately-clean bib. i think i should include her everyday. she's stinking cute.<br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2U3sFt51RFVmkC9RG3k32tx2T-trKUaZW3qwXsJUWSrxX94MpYWYmKs2LVSRCZQD9CJyn-5oy2rFJTnVaY35YfQxKaRPknDhrtnXuLn1isKRjXf0S7F9XTK2AERbPMShHLGX5Yq_y0gl/s1600/CC1britt2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554286528937283154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2U3sFt51RFVmkC9RG3k32tx2T-trKUaZW3qwXsJUWSrxX94MpYWYmKs2LVSRCZQD9CJyn-5oy2rFJTnVaY35YfQxKaRPknDhrtnXuLn1isKRjXf0S7F9XTK2AERbPMShHLGX5Yq_y0gl/s400/CC1britt2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEillkUkzA49VmOfyxzIaR8oDDEyc9R2V3wtR6p94lq3PQ8uFFCCK2yBsveFo3vc9sw677m9KAYRHV9-tIjval0qfvmIWvYMebdCC6fL2E7GQZRi9ELHnyQHiC906E6eHSuUt0OB4jDr4DMh/s1600/CC1britt3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554286428493945234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEillkUkzA49VmOfyxzIaR8oDDEyc9R2V3wtR6p94lq3PQ8uFFCCK2yBsveFo3vc9sw677m9KAYRHV9-tIjval0qfvmIWvYMebdCC6fL2E7GQZRi9ELHnyQHiC906E6eHSuUt0OB4jDr4DMh/s400/CC1britt3.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 348px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 78%;"> boots: target. jeans: bullhead brand (?). belt: forever 21. vneck: old navy. cardigan: the limited. scarf & necklace: no idea. hair thing: smiths marketplace.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv4l0IlRVzLFZ18gAm9eY6QS79n9u-14o1m10bUIMgeRrz1dtdeudfSXDP1gLcsYkmM2EvtrAd3ZB8ygifnpQP4sEFCITGwR58JRlfbFIVDOmj0p5LrAvveEsRiqAmDt0mCP4kXuQnJ1d_/s1600/CC1britt1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554286098433259570" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv4l0IlRVzLFZ18gAm9eY6QS79n9u-14o1m10bUIMgeRrz1dtdeudfSXDP1gLcsYkmM2EvtrAd3ZB8ygifnpQP4sEFCITGwR58JRlfbFIVDOmj0p5LrAvveEsRiqAmDt0mCP4kXuQnJ1d_/s400/CC1britt1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHk0Luw6Z2GNaGJTi45v6SxCNwytcOGU5EReN6uDX9k-RusrDY3Z3H3Fx_Hq61Pl0qAjyj-GowIa6q2T1s0TZ_LUXIC-mXsfII2w5rsTbFm45At7rMl5_V0P916_6JzUsSAGzqM-ntm-x/s1600/CC1britt4.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554285968274986498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGHk0Luw6Z2GNaGJTi45v6SxCNwytcOGU5EReN6uDX9k-RusrDY3Z3H3Fx_Hq61Pl0qAjyj-GowIa6q2T1s0TZ_LUXIC-mXsfII2w5rsTbFm45At7rMl5_V0P916_6JzUsSAGzqM-ntm-x/s400/CC1britt4.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 348px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>Can you guess how old I am? I'll give you a hint: it's subtly displayed in one of the cheesy photos above. Got it? Yep, 31. I'm strangely not really affected by birthdays. I don't go through this "wow, I'm getting sooooo oooooold" phase, I don't spend a lot of time in reflection about where my life has been and/or is headed, and I don't worry about wrinkles and grey hairs. Which I don't think I have yet, but the only reason why is (a) I don't consider smile lines wrinkles, and (b) my hair is a strange mix of colors in which grey, even if it's present, is overshadowed and outnumbered.<br /><br /></div><div align="center">Probably, I'm just not mature enough to spend time in arbitrary deep thought when there's fun to be had with my favorite people.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Oooh, but one thing that IS obvious about my getting older is my wandering brain. Actually, sometimes it's not even wandering. It's shut down completely, on bed rest with only a catheter to funnel the random bits of information that have been known, on occasion, to spew forth.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">[Editor's note: Eww. My apologies for the analogy. Normally I wouldn't allow such lapses in publishing judgment, but it IS her birthday after all. And she's kind of a diva on her birthday. Breaks all sorts of rules this time of year, as you witnessed first-hand <a href="http://adayinlifetoo.blogspot.com/2010/12/to-market-to-market.html">yesterday</a>.]</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">So, anyway. I plan on going sledding and playing in the snow and eating all sorts of scrumptious foods in very large quantities. So I wore black. It's slimming, right? [Editor's note: Ehhhh...slimming, maybe. An invisibility cloak? No.] Paired with a vertically striped sweater to elongate my frame (and to camoflauge the inevitable wideness-o-belly that will ensue today), I think it'll do the trick.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Seriously, you guys, can you tell I'm a little distracted today? And happy? Because it's Christmas Eve!! And we should all be doing something other than peering into our computer screens today. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Happy Friday.</div><br /></div>

i feel like i'm forgetting something...

it's my birthday today. addie's helping me with this post. she's sporting her favorite kitty pjs and her not-favorite-but-modera...

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To market to market...

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiut3GvNDcdfW5SL4URLvipR9GJH_9ochHFaCeGDyhVfgUPk6_3nj4Mk0lrIFZSWuECXVjwmSjF_pNLp-2YEPl3y_T2ofn-tA7mMRiAYPi0t6Q_nh5rDLPDEXgyEZEKV7kFLE48RSuS3vvW/s1600/BB1britt3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553936431356414562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiut3GvNDcdfW5SL4URLvipR9GJH_9ochHFaCeGDyhVfgUPk6_3nj4Mk0lrIFZSWuECXVjwmSjF_pNLp-2YEPl3y_T2ofn-tA7mMRiAYPi0t6Q_nh5rDLPDEXgyEZEKV7kFLE48RSuS3vvW/s400/BB1britt3.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9YhiEmgJQzJfDoDjNL2zQ1k3Yjd4aGPQZc5EMGMJEMVajtejFCaS343sA-qyO0xvkChWZ6q_-Gr9D1PLktFLDU2zGEFc47M5tv79GeNpvQr0BlgHIYTWj3m2osfxkEZgz1WOOqYYrghzS/s1600/BB1britt1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553936281686781202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9YhiEmgJQzJfDoDjNL2zQ1k3Yjd4aGPQZc5EMGMJEMVajtejFCaS343sA-qyO0xvkChWZ6q_-Gr9D1PLktFLDU2zGEFc47M5tv79GeNpvQr0BlgHIYTWj3m2osfxkEZgz1WOOqYYrghzS/s400/BB1britt1.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcfD_GBdqW4FlW0msH0ag-w2KNUidudAeRVcpkQsasObGPRMD1PSfZUaGHlnfw7Nn_wb-kLBBTYLJWA2ZrgLxa3q3jcBSwGUXREu9VdT_t0gu4f0PuxT-TpVXL4YS5YbGfOOkYoMn0bIgk/s1600/BB1britt2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553936167763096866" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcfD_GBdqW4FlW0msH0ag-w2KNUidudAeRVcpkQsasObGPRMD1PSfZUaGHlnfw7Nn_wb-kLBBTYLJWA2ZrgLxa3q3jcBSwGUXREu9VdT_t0gu4f0PuxT-TpVXL4YS5YbGfOOkYoMn0bIgk/s400/BB1britt2.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a> Raise your hand if you have a bajillion things to do today. Or touch your nose if you're too lazy to raise your hand but still have lots to do. Or, fine, will you at least mentally acknowledge that today's to-do list is long but you're drawn to your laptop (and, consequently, this post) like a moth to the bug-zapper light? [Editor's note: No, but seriously, have you ever watched a bug-zapper in action? It's, like, 15% disturbing, 60% awesome, and whatever-percentage-is-left mesmerizing. You should try it sometime.] </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">ANYway. Now that we've established that we're all busy people today (or, for those of you who've fallen asleep during this exercise, established that we have other more important things to do today than read this), let's get to it.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Today's jumping-off point is a little surprising. Because nothing in this outfit looks like it goes together. Which is why I think the whole thing is Unexpected & Maybe Awesome. But I started with this striped sweater. I don't wear it too much because it's long and horizontally striped and, therefore, makes my naturally square torso look suspiciously like a refrigerator box. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">But the colors are warm, casual, comfortable, and quite inducive to doing a lot of errandy-type things. Which, as we've established, today's schedule is chock-full of. Plus, I was feeling a little rebellious today. Maybe it's the fact that this is the last day I'll ever live as a 30-year-old. Or the fact that Santa has obviously assembled his nice/naughty lists already, so what the heck, let's break some rules. But either way, I wanted to mix some patterns and colors.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">[Editor's note: That's not the extent of my rebelliousness, you die-hards. Stop rolling your eyes at me. I may or MAY NOT have rinsed off my crusty breakfast dishes before putting them in the dishwasher this morning, either. And the day is still young, too, sooooo... don't judge too hastily. This girl can get cuh-raaazyeeee...] </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">So. Patterns: stripes, plaid, flowery/butterfly-y. There really is no reason or method for putting them together. But I think they're tied together nicely with some purple tights, brown leather belt, and some brown boots. I actually like the end result. I feel like, "hey, kids, go ahead and wipe your pnut-butter-encrusted-fingers on me today...it'll form a pattern on my clothes and fit right in." And, frankly, I like that kind of carefree.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Now, you'll have to excuse me. I'm off to do more rebellious things. Like, maybe NOT dusting a bookshelf that desperately needs it. Mwhwhahahahahaaaa...</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Happy Thursday.</div></div>

To market to market...

Raise your hand if you have a bajillion things to do today. Or touch your nose if you're too lazy to raise your hand but still have lot...

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because i felt like being a newscaster today. that's why.

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFP9Sn3gsVJn2gIiJlvYR01NkID8hiLu795NzBhyzmMredOPSynahuljeqeDAmK6-5Q57MeBV2p1X3hRID3Qi5-ahaJzixCl9BER8sZOyaSngP7nd4U-giGR27SjtElalwYsmQPBv5-9Ze/s1600/AA1britt2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553560547760598898" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFP9Sn3gsVJn2gIiJlvYR01NkID8hiLu795NzBhyzmMredOPSynahuljeqeDAmK6-5Q57MeBV2p1X3hRID3Qi5-ahaJzixCl9BER8sZOyaSngP7nd4U-giGR27SjtElalwYsmQPBv5-9Ze/s400/AA1britt2.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 348px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJhFtX2c2rfOJpq-yCfHnSOVS0s2tH4oS3M-wsBMOUBUXEGdfs2urOF1aIDOl73nPBkBtmVyVKEHj_xNVOVvXJ44l8GCsvNHymsoJa9LFscVKleRwepVPuCIf9FzJECk33yczqZdQR1mnZ/s1600/AA1britt1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553560300122147138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJhFtX2c2rfOJpq-yCfHnSOVS0s2tH4oS3M-wsBMOUBUXEGdfs2urOF1aIDOl73nPBkBtmVyVKEHj_xNVOVvXJ44l8GCsvNHymsoJa9LFscVKleRwepVPuCIf9FzJECk33yczqZdQR1mnZ/s400/AA1britt1.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLYkhlHuCKZR1Qz5pGDtmq8TEi66-0Pd1w4YNdQBV9hoQDl3Vwrdmqm9XLC5-iPQ2akMvrNrU2jHl-TST0gTebI6uk1bBRfZlieeANGt43lVg8Utc2i14NJbQLcu3rWb3sSszoKbsdll8J/s1600/AA1britt3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553560178315546674" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLYkhlHuCKZR1Qz5pGDtmq8TEi66-0Pd1w4YNdQBV9hoQDl3Vwrdmqm9XLC5-iPQ2akMvrNrU2jHl-TST0gTebI6uk1bBRfZlieeANGt43lVg8Utc2i14NJbQLcu3rWb3sSszoKbsdll8J/s400/AA1britt3.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 348px; CURSOR: hand" /></a>Today's jumping-off point was these wide leg pants. Subtle grey pinstripe on that lovely is-it-blue-or-is-it-black? color, and we're in business. And I wanted something neutral but still an actual color on top: pale yellow button-up it is. Originally, it was topped with a baby blue short-sleeve sweater. But the sweater was smaller (translation: tighter) than the shirt was, so I looked suuuuper lumpy. No thanks.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">I switched to this grey vest. At first I was hesitant because everything just felt so bland. But after adding a shiny turquoise and green brooch at my neck and my favorite shimmery braided metallic belt and a couple simple bracelets [Editor's ntoe: Because I'm a recovering bracelaholic. Actually, not even recovering. Full-fledged still ensconced in bracelethood and in serious denial that there's even a problem.], things felt more balanced.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">[Editor's note: Oh, and...see those socks? Worn oh-so-confidently with my favorite flats? Yeah. That's because it's snowing outside. And while I naturally have a body temperature that rivals what's-his-werewolf in Twilight, I'm not in love with snow falling in my shoes and melting on my bare feet as I walk. So. Yep. Socks. We good here? Good.]<br /><br />And with my hair straightened, I feel like a newscaster. Which makes me want to make an announcement. [Editor's note: 10 points for an excellent segway.] [Assistant Editor's note: Really? 10 points? It's like a pay raise!] [Editor's note: Don't get ahead of yourself...]</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">(ahem) Announcement: Recently, a man mentioned to Pocket, "I saw your wife's blog-thing the other day... Man, I'm glad MY wife isn't like that! I wouldn't have any money left to buy toys!"</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Although I'm happy to be the cause of another man's reiterating his preference for his own wife (always!), I feel like I may have not made myself, and the purpose of this blog, clear. Let me do so now: This blog is based on the fact that I have many many old clothes that were gathering dust in my closet. Many of my clothes are hand-me-downs, or yard sale finds, or from high school/college days. My body shape has changed several times over the past decade, and therefore the majority of my wardrobe is comprised of hodge-podge, somewhat ill-fitting pieces. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">The whole point in taking pics of myself every day (a somewhat embarrassing and extremely vulnerability-inducing endeavor in and of itself) is to show that a normal girl can still make do with what she has--she can look modern and appropriate and at least moderately stylish even with old stuff. It doesn't take a lot of money (which I don't have). It simply takes some thought and creativity. And a very big smile.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Happy Wednesday.</div></div>

because i felt like being a newscaster today. that's why.

Today's jumping-off point was these wide leg pants. Subtle grey pinstripe on that lovely is-it-blue-or-is-it-black? color, and we're...

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You have Christmas lights on your tree? Huh. I wear mine...

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBjbBJm7pJkduekHbJkEugIRdZoX96S50pdi5UMpFOGhleMtPZmhdS2BsvonwEam-Gt472w7pVgKzUJP_DZ3EYlAhbRWljiMvlKqEKcv_626YWZiw26z1pVfvQhqpkvacl-jLq0bne__U/s1600/Z1britt2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553212373234711058" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkBjbBJm7pJkduekHbJkEugIRdZoX96S50pdi5UMpFOGhleMtPZmhdS2BsvonwEam-Gt472w7pVgKzUJP_DZ3EYlAhbRWljiMvlKqEKcv_626YWZiw26z1pVfvQhqpkvacl-jLq0bne__U/s400/Z1britt2.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 364px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigH-9ZzTAYnlTOLu_dM86uvjhJQQOr_6O_n4TfCIA7q2tr6mfDBDmkkLhZHfeUjkeodu8QOTxZnXQ5F6ZDHoktsg-Mq3yqpVsgrgrA3RYd1obCTKyLxWXySpAKZbx6x6zVkm-JMsQhEFNO/s1600/Z1britt3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553212265074281570" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigH-9ZzTAYnlTOLu_dM86uvjhJQQOr_6O_n4TfCIA7q2tr6mfDBDmkkLhZHfeUjkeodu8QOTxZnXQ5F6ZDHoktsg-Mq3yqpVsgrgrA3RYd1obCTKyLxWXySpAKZbx6x6zVkm-JMsQhEFNO/s400/Z1britt3.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 364px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7u_e395hFVZ67s3GWvLAtV4doNX2rWeyQKUh8uJzkwxYp4zezrdkanFcOuqzwEzcCFfNJYwKg1g3jpOq0TzDjD-H6bDoiCrqJK6bSCk_XnvWs9TcZrX8pH4hxOIWQdik8UMWXoE1TbfAK/s1600/Z1britt1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553212136757896658" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7u_e395hFVZ67s3GWvLAtV4doNX2rWeyQKUh8uJzkwxYp4zezrdkanFcOuqzwEzcCFfNJYwKg1g3jpOq0TzDjD-H6bDoiCrqJK6bSCk_XnvWs9TcZrX8pH4hxOIWQdik8UMWXoE1TbfAK/s400/Z1britt1.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 364px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a> You don't even want to ask the question, because at heart you're a polite person, but I know you can't stop thinking about it, so I'm just going to address the elephant in the room right now. A very white elephant. Yes, that pasty sickly color IS the skin of my winter-white legs. No tights, not color enhancement, no nothin'. Thanks for bringing it up.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">[Awkward cyber-pause.]<br /></div><br /><div align="center">(ahem) So. Now. Today's jumping-off point was actually this fabulous chocolate cowl-sweater-dress combo. 3-for-1. It's awesome. Originally, I'd planned on pairing it with some skinny jeans. But for some reason, I wasn't feeling the skinnies today. Skinny jean overload, maybe. But I still needed something form-fitting on my lower half to balance out the silhouette of the sweater dress. And to emphasize my extremely large calves. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">[Editor's note: Oh, wait. I didn't want to do that at ALL. It just sorta happened. Nuts. But, then again, it's hard to avoid with puppies like these calves. Large and in charge, they are. Especially in their current LED-bright-white-Christmas-light state. But, you know what? They get me to where I need to be. Like the fridge. So, no complaints.]</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">But leggings fit the bill. As did, once again, <a href="http://adayinlifetoo.blogspot.com/2010/12/on-flipped-up-collars-and-sweet-rolls.html">this</a> lovely salmony necklace for a bit of color. Add some chunky bracelets, a brown leather belt (with great flower cutout detailing), and a wide leather headband. Which is supposed to look like some kind of reptile skin, I think. But it doesn't. At all. Which, frankly, makes it kind of endearing. ("Aww, sweetie, you tried. Did your best. <em>I'll </em>protect you from the taunts of those mean ol' impressively-faux-snakeskin purses...")<br /><br />And red Converse. Just because they're red Cons. And I wanted to casual-ify (yep) the overall vibe of this ensemble, despite an accessory overload. I think they're unexpected and maybe awesome here. And, bonus, they take some of the attention away from the bluish-white of ye ol' legs. Which ain't easy. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Happy Tuesday.</div></div>

You have Christmas lights on your tree? Huh. I wear mine...

You don't even want to ask the question, because at heart you're a polite person, but I know you can't stop thinking about it, ...

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Feelin' bloovy...

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSKsxYpuS37t7pkuS4K_WlBmh63We6bLblhfMC53GRCKiaDnTyNmUV3cHx6tK3sFLYfxIAjhZk6UQJ6Xu_jZ0SJx8CaAU9O6Xp_Xg67f6R8ybV6Q6aA6Zik3FGPEax0yvKlM3iJELafvv/s1600/Y1britt2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552859974178961346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSKsxYpuS37t7pkuS4K_WlBmh63We6bLblhfMC53GRCKiaDnTyNmUV3cHx6tK3sFLYfxIAjhZk6UQJ6Xu_jZ0SJx8CaAU9O6Xp_Xg67f6R8ybV6Q6aA6Zik3FGPEax0yvKlM3iJELafvv/s400/Y1britt2.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 364px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMobWymFmyd2XLAxVrrIcaby27MGahDAkmHXpb_ILup3gLLpfBwsXerQuzsUG71AO8fq64s4oOM58y63jVaZY_djH0MS4sOl8KoRdGEvjpwbcrV7axWE_QSfP6aqxXrSW0w-mhdyaxr-jY/s1600/Y1britt1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552859874927950754" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMobWymFmyd2XLAxVrrIcaby27MGahDAkmHXpb_ILup3gLLpfBwsXerQuzsUG71AO8fq64s4oOM58y63jVaZY_djH0MS4sOl8KoRdGEvjpwbcrV7axWE_QSfP6aqxXrSW0w-mhdyaxr-jY/s400/Y1britt1.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 364px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5X-KCxr1rYek2D6_m9GWOyhVCIp2Gb5gRjMdTEghXxAOggkcuzXuK7NUVKEE6GrRcnJbN8OmwWY_Qa6OsLiUnTveuZnj1wsuUrB_rSksAYAKWxcPrx9meJfNobscoqDpoZfJfTjNxNyk/s1600/Y1britt3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552859545598907378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5X-KCxr1rYek2D6_m9GWOyhVCIp2Gb5gRjMdTEghXxAOggkcuzXuK7NUVKEE6GrRcnJbN8OmwWY_Qa6OsLiUnTveuZnj1wsuUrB_rSksAYAKWxcPrx9meJfNobscoqDpoZfJfTjNxNyk/s400/Y1britt3.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 364px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a> Before we commence, please pretty please tell me you're humming Simon & Garfunkel's great hit, based on the title of this post. Are you? Good. And also, did you get the pun intended with "bloo"? As in, the color. But I wanted to spell it kinda like groovy. I know. I'm asking so much of your mental synapses for a Monday morning. Forgive me.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">And also forgive my sweet 4-year-old daughter, who was up all night last night [Editor's note: Sometimes people say "all night" when they really mean, say, a fairly inconvenient 2 hours. Like intermittently from 1-3 a.m. or something. This is not the case here. Please take me literally as you read my lips: Up. All. Night.] coughing and throwing up. Poor little lamb. And, let's be just brutally honest here, folks. Poor me.<br /><br />Regardless, a girl's gotta get dressed for the day. Even if not until 10 a.m. because I was, and continue to be, just so very tiiiiiiiired [Editor's note: You can see it in my eyes in these photos, can't you. And I thought I was hiding it so well, too.]. I'm not sad or depressed or anything, but blue just fit my mood today.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">So. When you wake up feeling like a color, and when you're so tired all you want to do is make sure you can take a nap in whatever it is you end up wearing, it's not that hard to choose an ensemble. Long sleeves under a big baggy tee for the staying-at-home nature of the day. A big soft striped O scarf, just to add a bit of visual interest to the outfit but still stay within the self-imposed color constraints. Comfy comfy jeans, hair up and out of the way, and a wide black belt at the hips. Not sure why the belt ended up on my hips as it did, but I kind of like it. Helps to prove the baggy-tee point, you know?</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">I'm extremely comfortable today. And I'm going to spend some time appreciating said comfort in a subconscious state. Right about.....now.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Happy Monday.</div></div>

Feelin' bloovy...

Before we commence, please pretty please tell me you're humming Simon & Garfunkel's great hit, based on the title of this post....

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Sometimes, you've gotta just smile at yourself in the mirror and move on...

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRSmArUMWWkAUkcEjQTWXMGiezIraO6Z9ilfBaREN7E3D-Bkms6g27CxkRbnAsci_mvx1sJtqg6ogQniqgcPtikZKduNMMCVE4Wm8gt8yQp_u_kmS9ezkNZBkDLVIAv4FW0eBOvUnFvto0/s1600/X1britt1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552488547860633266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRSmArUMWWkAUkcEjQTWXMGiezIraO6Z9ilfBaREN7E3D-Bkms6g27CxkRbnAsci_mvx1sJtqg6ogQniqgcPtikZKduNMMCVE4Wm8gt8yQp_u_kmS9ezkNZBkDLVIAv4FW0eBOvUnFvto0/s400/X1britt1.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 364px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfGPRx8D1UUFUusCbFBy4YzovslNqdTkZJZYvLIinDmfBmbJo5zlC7Y24YW4xwEosJmQC8BW3dtRTqZpx7fBqAswNOk4mu_BkgX2Pb-5F6lu_uKiwmsgF6TZDLmBfUFEQtSOR7kkNsb64G/s1600/X1britt2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552488450972323714" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfGPRx8D1UUFUusCbFBy4YzovslNqdTkZJZYvLIinDmfBmbJo5zlC7Y24YW4xwEosJmQC8BW3dtRTqZpx7fBqAswNOk4mu_BkgX2Pb-5F6lu_uKiwmsgF6TZDLmBfUFEQtSOR7kkNsb64G/s400/X1britt2.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 348px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAZ7hkpg0hqjluwS73ozutHqIEp2P0XK-aF92XFwnCwuZfQddcQLlp7JKh6huuj4CLYDGuZZtBWcnjwfcV1-6aK1fRXuCpo3l5GYx3_C_M2LTY7_WDWt8vGdS5VedtM46B3oxLhdIYOJia/s1600/X1britt3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552488345018132802" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAZ7hkpg0hqjluwS73ozutHqIEp2P0XK-aF92XFwnCwuZfQddcQLlp7JKh6huuj4CLYDGuZZtBWcnjwfcV1-6aK1fRXuCpo3l5GYx3_C_M2LTY7_WDWt8vGdS5VedtM46B3oxLhdIYOJia/s400/X1britt3.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 364px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a> Today's jumping-off point was a cotton floral button-up shirt and a different floral patterned pencil skirt. Then I decided I didn't like the shirt with the skirt, so I changed shirts. Twice. Then I decided that maybe the offending party was the skirt, so out it went. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Ever had one of those days? Yeah. Me too. Like, today.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">For some odd reason, I really really wanted to wear a floral today. And, if I'm honest with you (always), I wanted to pair it with a little Christmas sparkle. After all, my daughters were dressed in their velvety-satin holiday finery, and I wanted to join the fun. I finally settled on this shirt, which, I think, is a lovely shimmery number without being in-your-face. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">[Editor's note: NOT that in-your-faceness is always bad. Like one time a kid was being a super big bully to my small toddler (I mean, come ON) at the park, and after a couple failed attempts at my rationally trying to stop said bullying acts, I reverted to a kid-appropriate version of in-your-face. Crisis averted.]</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Where was I? Oh yes, the shirt. I also like the collar, how it's kind of wide but also feminine. And the diamond (or crystal...or zircon...but probably, let's be real honest here folks, plastic) buttons. I tried to go with simple elegance by pairing it with a black pencil skirt (with ivory embroidered flowers, because, as I mentioned before, I was feeling all floralish today). Add a soft black cardigan, a braided belt that matched the sheen of the shirt, and a simple silver necklace. Oh, and my very super favorite flower accessory in my hair. (Also worn <a href="http://adayinlifetoo.blogspot.com/2010/12/just-pleasant-sabbath-daycirca-1940.html">here</a> and <a href="http://adayinlifetoo.blogspot.com/2010/12/youre-never-fully-dressed-without-smile.html">here</a>. Heh.)</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Then I quickly undid every hint of sophistication by busting out a girl's white bead bracelet and plum tights. But it was a balance risk I was willing to take. Black leather boots [Editor's note: Have I told you about my <a href="http://adayinlifetoo.blogspot.com/2010/12/hanging-christmas-lights-huh-i-wear.html">calf complex</a> yet? No? Okay, well, another time. I'm sure it'll surface in due course. But, a complex I most certainly have.], annnnnd...time to go.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">I wasn't terribly happy with the end result. Maybe because I'm going through a feeling-frumpy phase [Editor's note: Which SURELY can't be a result of my consuming 100s of pounds of Christmas goodies over the past week...]. But after a few minutes of considering and reconsidering what I'm wearing, I reach a point where I need to move on and do the stuff of life. Like eating breakfast, tying shoes, and kissing owies. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Sooo...what you see is what everyone at church got. And the Christmas music was so splendid today that, really, who even cares.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Happy Sunday.</div></div>

Sometimes, you've gotta just smile at yourself in the mirror and move on...

Today's jumping-off point was a cotton floral button-up shirt and a different floral patterned pencil skirt. Then I decided I didn'...

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Happy Anniversary to Meeeeee! (I mean, uh, Uuuuuusss...)

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisLa7VpFqabed_1Tfmk6T_aQxx8ECDvQ3k6s7bAHHP2CWpsqYJKkvR3HJcOD948e5haXdsX7k3XDx82zvr_7lNKmOZdhh7ou9-DaobvpuH1e-vdk68QUmDEyOytzLRHLDBOvS2YckL6zHl/s1600/W1britt1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552119473207329538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisLa7VpFqabed_1Tfmk6T_aQxx8ECDvQ3k6s7bAHHP2CWpsqYJKkvR3HJcOD948e5haXdsX7k3XDx82zvr_7lNKmOZdhh7ou9-DaobvpuH1e-vdk68QUmDEyOytzLRHLDBOvS2YckL6zHl/s400/W1britt1.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 330px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-6sDHQ9kN-7FelTsnhKJJ_5Au8vVBIVzvgzVVBPksPMleJjxAbWrQsS6qTNe8rZdV77PojNdts7lVpPTxs01vXzO1UX_vNL7weZ6XTA2gHJtXxYHX3Zppwdx6ndLAxepb44r15lYictq/s1600/W1britt2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552119391580186626" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-6sDHQ9kN-7FelTsnhKJJ_5Au8vVBIVzvgzVVBPksPMleJjxAbWrQsS6qTNe8rZdV77PojNdts7lVpPTxs01vXzO1UX_vNL7weZ6XTA2gHJtXxYHX3Zppwdx6ndLAxepb44r15lYictq/s400/W1britt2.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 261px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div align="center">It's Paul's & my 9th anniversary today. The very very happiest years of my life. He's the best. Evidence? He lets me call him "Pauly Pocket." And sometimes just "Pocket" for short.<br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">And he's not letting me <a href="http://adayinlifetoo.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-cant-be-sure-but-i-think-i-deserve.html">pluck our chicken dinner</a> tonight. Sooo, yeah. Billions of gold stars and smooches for him.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div>And we've celebrated so far by cleaning the house, changing the oil on the truck, making a trip to the grocery store, exercising, playing with kids, and watching football on TV. We're about to take the kids sledding. Which is why I'm dressed like this. Nothing like an argyle turtleneck sweater to scream ski-lodginess. If only I had a cardigan with moose and brass buttons on it, I'd throw that on, too.</div><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">I won't be wearing this for our actual anniversary celebration, of course. Because what I wear tonight may or may not (with heavy emphasis on may not) be appropriate to post here.</div><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Happy Saturday.</div>

Happy Anniversary to Meeeeee! (I mean, uh, Uuuuuusss...)

It's Paul's & my 9th anniversary today. The very very happiest years of my life. He's the best. Evidence? He lets me call hi...

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I can't be sure, but I *think* I deserve an award.

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdLrCezr7WtB9UgjZwYk319_Ess4iQHuZUMqNeF-yNiaqDNLgtAMLdO3X9V7et87-bewkaKjty-tdYKaOU_g189byaTAv7rs6LhU0JbkbOo_CMGewEhx3O30LQfY06Ve_-KXaThO4g2Ab8/s1600/V1britt1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551712728459153490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdLrCezr7WtB9UgjZwYk319_Ess4iQHuZUMqNeF-yNiaqDNLgtAMLdO3X9V7et87-bewkaKjty-tdYKaOU_g189byaTAv7rs6LhU0JbkbOo_CMGewEhx3O30LQfY06Ve_-KXaThO4g2Ab8/s400/V1britt1.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZpcy1wPfly2t1f4n-5oXVfn_dV205TLuvOTzQR4McqcO1hxsQ3FAA606bIwllox44FwY2NnJmlheWeuap859uVNu4W3O9yzPsamYqwaAN-sx5Zvsh5sSlFJXEV-p462RoVKimIKIlmzC1/s1600/V1britt3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551712619258373922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZpcy1wPfly2t1f4n-5oXVfn_dV205TLuvOTzQR4McqcO1hxsQ3FAA606bIwllox44FwY2NnJmlheWeuap859uVNu4W3O9yzPsamYqwaAN-sx5Zvsh5sSlFJXEV-p462RoVKimIKIlmzC1/s400/V1britt3.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 330px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqlwoSg8WBjtOb71sJwYVT6lhrj7vKWvUsRcErpVMgo27McAv7WqQ231mp6Vl2ccjg38SoeD09Ti-CPRHvnmOJLvlws1jupMC-Fz9gBuM4N11AQOC4zwxhcwtoyNj5yb2hu20_iNnKaEBm/s1600/V1britt2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551712464079849138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqlwoSg8WBjtOb71sJwYVT6lhrj7vKWvUsRcErpVMgo27McAv7WqQ231mp6Vl2ccjg38SoeD09Ti-CPRHvnmOJLvlws1jupMC-Fz9gBuM4N11AQOC4zwxhcwtoyNj5yb2hu20_iNnKaEBm/s400/V1britt2.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 364px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a> <div align="center">So, I have a sis-in-law who won't touch raw meat. Sure, she'll eat it (well, not RAW meat. Just, you know, meat. Prepared & cooked). She'll even cook it. But for some reason (e.g., it's gross?), she can't bring herself to touch it. Like to put it into little bags to freeze it or whatever--nope. That job's left up to her husband.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">I have GOT to get me an arrangement like that. 'Cept it's too late for me. Paul knows better. Drat.<br /><br /><div align="center"></div>Anyways. Picture yourselves this: Me. Last night. Hastily trying to prepare dinner, which involved cooking a whole roasting chicken. Although I'm not necessarily a girly-girl per se, I'll be the first to admit I'm a *wee* bit squeamish about the "whole bird" thing. I kind of have to distract my brain for a few while I clean and prepare it. Like when you have to lift the wings to rub butter on the skin underneath? Yeah, I could do without that.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Well, EEEEEEEEASY on last night's whole chicken cooking endeavor topping the National Chart o' Grossness. [Editor's note: Because there is such a thing. On display in DC, I think, right next to the Declaration of Independence. Huh. I'm surprised you haven't heard of it.] Not only were there weird organs inside the chicken (which, I know there are always, like, the liver and some other organ in there, but these lumps were weird colors and shapes. And there were about 14 of them. ??), but there were also still FEATHERS. ON. THE. BIRD.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Honestly. I'll buy a whole chicken. I'll wash it and prepare it. I'll cook it up all delicious-like and enjoy the savory meat at dinner with my family. But I will not -- I repeat NOT -- happily pluck my own food. Eight feathers, there were, still attached to the bird. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">If you grew up on a farm and are rolling your eyes at me, fine. Go ahead. And good for you that you wrang (??) your first chicken's neck at age 3. But I didn't. And, although I'm grateful to those who perform such duties on my behalf, I have no desire to witness such a close-to-life display of the food I eat.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">But I swallowed my disgust, closed my eyes (almost), and plucked. And plucked. And plucked again. Eight times. Then I covered the dang thing with foil and threw it into the oven because I was starting to get heebie-jeebie goosebumps. And, when I tried to make dinnertime conversation about my award-deserving-self, my husband politely stopped me at the first mention of "whole chicken" and gestured to his food, as if to say, "I'm eating here, hon..."</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Exactly. Gross.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">So, to wrap things up: My overall goal today was to wear clothes that LEAST closely resembled a chicken. For obv reasons. My only requirement was a skirt for tonight's activities, but it's been super cold lately and tights alone just weren't going to cut it. So I added leg warmers. Mmmmm...cozy. And my very favorite zigzag scarf was calling out to me from the depths of my closet, feeling a wee bit neglected no doubt, since I haven't worn it for more than a week. I chose a kind of in-the-background brown cami and greenish cardigan to go with it. 'Cept the cardigan is striped, and with the zigzag it might be a little busy. (Opinions?)</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">The cardigan is a few sizes too big [Editor's note: Thereby making it just the right size. I love an oversized cardigan in the winter.], so I belted it. And belted the scarf for good measure. It just wanted to be close to me I think. Poor abandoned accessory. </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Happy Friday.</div></div></div>

I can't be sure, but I *think* I deserve an award.

So, I have a sis-in-law who won't touch raw meat. Sure, she'll eat it (well, not RAW meat. Just, you know, meat. Prepared & coo...

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Leave a message after the beep...

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRO_L0V6tNoj-D-PJ8A2s1I4XkUNRm858R4qpZLWA9GiJAfzGXzHKKGF4b-1zoHrx0gzQwh8wRnH8rSmYCwTWoQ5vmBWyjhy7tbtGA2SlCiYWJM_wn27fYU8aBGzaQig4kwImBdKLRinM4/s1600/U1britt3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551324309837611538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRO_L0V6tNoj-D-PJ8A2s1I4XkUNRm858R4qpZLWA9GiJAfzGXzHKKGF4b-1zoHrx0gzQwh8wRnH8rSmYCwTWoQ5vmBWyjhy7tbtGA2SlCiYWJM_wn27fYU8aBGzaQig4kwImBdKLRinM4/s400/U1britt3.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 364px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5EWcRswUmVD-1rQzDd0waotYhyphenhyphenXlwu21BKRlbp9veh37BYwAXNAwWkDimtINSQ1HKw_nLmndyq5eYxV1m1IwESSC5AsDhlnUnSmn8aYQN3vkVRdHIDD83ut3yJiY2wsHdxz4kxkm4v76M/s1600/U1britt1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551324198099196418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5EWcRswUmVD-1rQzDd0waotYhyphenhyphenXlwu21BKRlbp9veh37BYwAXNAwWkDimtINSQ1HKw_nLmndyq5eYxV1m1IwESSC5AsDhlnUnSmn8aYQN3vkVRdHIDD83ut3yJiY2wsHdxz4kxkm4v76M/s400/U1britt1.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjet4LWtnl22CpebJS2P0CnN0TnWRgbGIH5aWMQs_HUnwh-cUJ6t4ff8TWLRLzn0OYg6ftsEetFUTszgglaOnI6w5hPegppUlZMO_vbBfwu9vgAj0GRwWNaNPbho7rRKwtjUFLEoJbzpsda/s1600/U1britt2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551324088112836226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjet4LWtnl22CpebJS2P0CnN0TnWRgbGIH5aWMQs_HUnwh-cUJ6t4ff8TWLRLzn0OYg6ftsEetFUTszgglaOnI6w5hPegppUlZMO_vbBfwu9vgAj0GRwWNaNPbho7rRKwtjUFLEoJbzpsda/s400/U1britt2.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 313px; CURSOR: hand" /></a> You know those people who chronically leave looonnnnnnnng voicemail messages? Usually about nothing, or, on a good day, about one small thing that could've been summarized in about 6-1/2 words?<br /><br /><div align="center">Yeah, well, I'm one of Those People. Why?!?! I can't control myself! At the sound of the BEEP, my tongue bolts into small-talk conversation mode ("Hi! How ARE you?! Wait, why am I asking the machine that? I'm so sure, like you're going to answer back? Please. I know this is voicemail. Anyway. I have GOT to tell you something -- this is Brittney, by the way -- asap. Oh, and I forgot to mention something the other day about that one thingggg...") and on and on I go. And that's just breath #1.</div><br /><div align="center">You want to hang up, just reading this. Don't you. You must, because I want to hang up on myself. EV.RY. time I get Ms. Voicemail on the other line, I get a little nervous because I'm under her magic never-stop-talking spell. And every time my husband sees me listening to Ms. Voicemail, he rolls his eyes and smirks. Then takes a nap. And when he wakes up, I'm barely hanging up.<br /></div><br /><div align="center">Which really isn't fair, though, because HE is a man. HE can call up Ms. Voicemail and, without batting an eye, say after the beep: "Hey, it's Paul. Got a question for you. Call me back." *click*<br /></div><br /><div align="center">Whut the whut. No faiiiiirrrrrrr! I TRY to do that. But. I. Can't.<br /></div><br /><div align="center">I won't let that happen on blog today, though. Watch this:<br /></div><br /><div align="center">You can see what I wore today. I wanted to wear these items because they are (a) comfortable, (b) compatible, and (c) not crusty. And maybe (d) cute. [Editor's note: Alliteration was never my strong point.] Wait, I guess I could've said (c) clean. That sounds a little better.<br /></div><br /><div align="center">Remember the red satin polka dot sash I wore <a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=8026937722556557622&postID=5510884201004103075">here</a>? This is the companion shirt. And since I have two kids' Christmas programs to attend today, I thought it would be appropriately festive. Everything else just kind of hopped out at me, then onto me, from my closet. I LOVE when that happens.<br /></div><div align="center"><br />And also. May I please just say, my Unexpected & Maybe Awesome moment of this outfit is the pairing of bright navy flats & necklace with a randomly turquoise headband. TOTally don't really "go." Which is unexpected. And I'm not sure if they even "go" in a these-don't-go-but-it's-still-chic way. They might just "go" in a wow-she's-really-color-blind kind of way. Regardless, it leaves you guessing, doesn't it. Which, to me, makes them maybe awesome.</div><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">Aaaaaand...that's a wrap. Tell Ms. Voicemail hello for me. I'm sure she misses me. </div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Happy Thursday. </div></div></div>

Leave a message after the beep...

You know those people who chronically leave looonnnnnnnng voicemail messages? Usually about nothing, or, on a good day, about one small thi...

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If not Hazmat, then Heidi...

<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv60IWZlhOHZFpQzhjS49QaSi6zaQYfBnem6LgPf9gFmE_oPlvsNa9HIs8Xa2zbCn1e-XZs1oXQq8-Oxyd4glGiPqpS3y3X-bQgjD7pD0QM8tBYuL8gbjcMs1ImMAMzOSy5geTqj8z3z3-/s1600/T1britt5.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550971793981974210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv60IWZlhOHZFpQzhjS49QaSi6zaQYfBnem6LgPf9gFmE_oPlvsNa9HIs8Xa2zbCn1e-XZs1oXQq8-Oxyd4glGiPqpS3y3X-bQgjD7pD0QM8tBYuL8gbjcMs1ImMAMzOSy5geTqj8z3z3-/s400/T1britt5.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 364px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a>I'm feeling a little vulnerable today. But...inspired by Addie's flowers and monotone ensemble and heartened by Carson's morning hug, I'll make it through the day.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Z_ahSm-14EsSaMFdianRYnjszGGsPL9n-xX66vZKkOtpw2HNeXtnrN9oNR_eP35A9wPylPnuuzvi-RE0IlI2NqVCdahtW_PZDfHRdOUJD00K1YHrxecXZE92O2vgXcYuqkdxqUY4MrTz/s1600/T1britt4.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550971685489345250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Z_ahSm-14EsSaMFdianRYnjszGGsPL9n-xX66vZKkOtpw2HNeXtnrN9oNR_eP35A9wPylPnuuzvi-RE0IlI2NqVCdahtW_PZDfHRdOUJD00K1YHrxecXZE92O2vgXcYuqkdxqUY4MrTz/s400/T1britt4.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 348px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAhfiRw_seYq321XXqtaEgNuIhI6ZlvvZm7VeTLq88PsxnAQ4PKpN1EIleAeUUGwjcWTZgzzCYzHImVO4IAxuXvSwyfaqwhQKfeUaI-4_ZXcoZUuoDSc3z0uhu5B3RamjWEICYuj9i_Fg2/s1600/T1britt1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550971577063756706" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAhfiRw_seYq321XXqtaEgNuIhI6ZlvvZm7VeTLq88PsxnAQ4PKpN1EIleAeUUGwjcWTZgzzCYzHImVO4IAxuXvSwyfaqwhQKfeUaI-4_ZXcoZUuoDSc3z0uhu5B3RamjWEICYuj9i_Fg2/s400/T1britt1.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbD6r-bMN2lTvSyl58eolAGsHWCzFmZk73nEUp91ueToUoACX_TDWSbnMPxXLA8uqVfr4LoICoNETEqiSqPxEzVCHpAlXpqXxrUgqf-IFIgOAsnjD-3yVOcd6_wya88e6WOK1_jFBG_Bm/s1600/T1britt3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550971483815280450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUbD6r-bMN2lTvSyl58eolAGsHWCzFmZk73nEUp91ueToUoACX_TDWSbnMPxXLA8uqVfr4LoICoNETEqiSqPxEzVCHpAlXpqXxrUgqf-IFIgOAsnjD-3yVOcd6_wya88e6WOK1_jFBG_Bm/s400/T1britt3.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 348px; CURSOR: hand" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvXOQVUD35zHtUQSyufjW4ULpZiuJf45LFHw_oS1EGWWv1NorhdQNs45j-VqYjmDuS6P2PoAWbMTqIGFQ_Bh-9MzZMNNKEASOizvNRSpDhkAzLESralHA-e2EL7ylK0BylMTv_0g5vHcVW/s1600/T1britt2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550971349119611282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvXOQVUD35zHtUQSyufjW4ULpZiuJf45LFHw_oS1EGWWv1NorhdQNs45j-VqYjmDuS6P2PoAWbMTqIGFQ_Bh-9MzZMNNKEASOizvNRSpDhkAzLESralHA-e2EL7ylK0BylMTv_0g5vHcVW/s400/T1britt2.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></a> To be honest, I'm not sure what today's jumping off point was. Actually, yes I do. I planned on wearing a hazmat suit, followed by a few bullet-proof vests and gas masks. Oh, and those heat-resistant gloves like they wore on the moon. Actually, those were probably cold-resistant, weren't they? What the heck, I'll take a pair of those, too.</div><div><br /></div><div>"???" you ask. Well, I'll tell you: it's our turn to host about 12 kids (ages 2-7) tonight, as part of a rotating Date Night we do with friends. It's super fun but almost always crazy. A girl must be prepared for anything. Oooh, which reminds me. Better throw in an oxygen tank, too.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sadly, although that would be my dream outfit for the day, I own none of those items. Logically, I dressed like Heidi instead. Logically.</div><div><br /></div><div>I really wanted to wear this rose scarf my mom sent me from Sweden last month, but I didn't feel like wearing anything around my neck today. I wanted to keep things interesting but simple. And, since it's so pretty by itself, I wanted to keep everything else fairly monotone. Unforch, green monotone usually = leprechaun.</div><div><br /></div><div>[Editor's note: I wasn't REALLY going for a St. Patty's Day look, but it just sort of happened. But, since we're here, I'm hoping the little green men are watching and, to thank me for subconsciously publicizing their holiday amidst the way-more-publicized Christmas season, will ship me a pot o' gold anyway.]</div><div><br /></div><div>So. Green. Rose scarf triangle sash belty thing. Green skirt and shirt (what I wouldn't give for one of <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/aslipshop">these</a> slips from my friend Kaity's etsy shop). Big black belt to transition and also pull together the bottom half to the top half. Purple tights because I can. And will. And did. Black boots because it's cold outside and snowed about 5 inches last night. And, of course, some bracelets. Because my looooong monkey arms felt barren. And because I felt kinda nehked with minimal other accessories (no necklace or scarf, no collar, no earrings, no hairthings, no fingernail polish, heck not even braces on my teeth), and even though I wanted to go minimal, I still felt bare.</div><div><br /></div><div>There you have it. Feeling vulnerable today because there's not much to hide behind, 'cept a cloak-o'-not-even-matching-green. Which, come to think of it, matching might be worse... </div><div><br /></div><div>But I'm brave. And I'm wearing what I own and smiling about it. And moving on with my kid-centered life. And yet, if worse comes to worse, anyone have a hazmat suit I could borrow?...</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy Wednesday.</div></div><br /></div>

If not Hazmat, then Heidi...

I'm feeling a little vulnerable today. But...inspired by Addie's flowers and monotone ensemble and heartened by Carson's morning...

Read more »