Does this dress make me look fat? (Correct answer: Actually yes. Yes it does.)

<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhInggLJYFZW1wefeDr3eRlr0tmRwKGmL2XUpZx4mdCXEGU-Oj4eFV3ygm5H157fnUkB-Sb5xE9iBDEHC-jnwwNvWKTc8w5ThBj1fUtN3ysRCf41NtAqZDV4oaZBfmfWKwCKZIQO7fW9abc/s1600/Z1britt4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhInggLJYFZW1wefeDr3eRlr0tmRwKGmL2XUpZx4mdCXEGU-Oj4eFV3ygm5H157fnUkB-Sb5xE9iBDEHC-jnwwNvWKTc8w5ThBj1fUtN3ysRCf41NtAqZDV4oaZBfmfWKwCKZIQO7fW9abc/s400/Z1britt4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Sorry about yesterday's lack of post. No, really. I'm sorry. Mostly sorry for myself, though, because now I have to actually figure out today's date (previously, the date = my 30x30 number). My poor brain. Hey, don't roll your eyes at me. These little things add up, people. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaoOkG9UpPkP0-QuHK79q4HuTaCJmpkFvL-GGQSwGEEiKoIX-5e3Ks4_-yNLgFPYRsTto7jSPmA1gxylWJxBmi70cngrPxA-fj95tVV0yXYWrnzEtahS_PKZA8z4lB4oeJs1Jr9EMR3Jqj/s1600/Z1britt1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="347" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaoOkG9UpPkP0-QuHK79q4HuTaCJmpkFvL-GGQSwGEEiKoIX-5e3Ks4_-yNLgFPYRsTto7jSPmA1gxylWJxBmi70cngrPxA-fj95tVV0yXYWrnzEtahS_PKZA8z4lB4oeJs1Jr9EMR3Jqj/s400/Z1britt1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">shoes: union bay brand. tights & jewelry: don't recall. leg warmers: amazon. dress: gap. belt: thrifted. cardigan: j.crew.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKxsSqtMKGV3iENJ_oR3aikq_SKnUlCgEwq3vtt_rR_q2yAiXpNsVwymQcoJ4hvCrxWIX0P-qrP4i1K9dP9r5eR64HX-kPNTF_Y4vH5W3ABdRBCBKZnBi63avUjEpQrPx5ioABa_oZ4uKH/s1600/Z1britt3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKxsSqtMKGV3iENJ_oR3aikq_SKnUlCgEwq3vtt_rR_q2yAiXpNsVwymQcoJ4hvCrxWIX0P-qrP4i1K9dP9r5eR64HX-kPNTF_Y4vH5W3ABdRBCBKZnBi63avUjEpQrPx5ioABa_oZ4uKH/s400/Z1britt3.jpg" width="347" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_yc4iQQyym1F2sijDXpofCM9TAjhY80N6a4DEeA3y05TeyJWYilEkbaLEqP3d1nW7wyagaVoaW7Pew2mIAyyyvAcsjScCShUcm01m0Gy0idKEj1vsgkQkPY303O4TRdR1DRRqRRyQF7PF/s1600/Z1britt2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="347" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_yc4iQQyym1F2sijDXpofCM9TAjhY80N6a4DEeA3y05TeyJWYilEkbaLEqP3d1nW7wyagaVoaW7Pew2mIAyyyvAcsjScCShUcm01m0Gy0idKEj1vsgkQkPY303O4TRdR1DRRqRRyQF7PF/s400/Z1britt2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div align="center">This week I'm grateful for:</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">- paint rollers.</div><div align="center">- beautiful blue sky peeking through the snow-laden branches of barren trees.</div><div align="center">- a 2-year-old's trying to find her sister and calling out: "wheh IS you?"</div><div align="center">- windows from which I can watch my children playing in the snow. Should I have been out there playing with them? Probably. But I'm the one who kicked them out into the "fresh air" in the first place, so I'll score myself a half-a-point in the Mothering Department. And anyways, we all enjoyed some hot cocoa afterward, so that gives me another half-a-point...right?</div><div align="center">- the children's book <u>Olivia</u>. Don't think I could get sick of reading that one to the kiddos. And believe you me, I would've been sick of it by now.</div><div align="center">- a mr.-fix-it husband. Who would vehemently deny the title. But it's true.</div><div align="center">- our home.</div><div align="center">- snickerdoodles.</div><div align="center">- family & friends. Sounds totally cliche, doesn't it? Like, you're probably skimming by now and are thinking, "blah blah, family friends big whoop reeeeal original." Or, actually, you're probably not even giving it that much thought. Regardless of how stale it sounds, I couldn't mean it more genuinely.</div><div align="center">- my cell phone.</div><div align="center">- simple things.<br />- smiling to myself at the irony of almost ending this list with "my cell phone" and "simple things."</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Happy Sunday! </div><div align="center"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Want this look? Or do you, like me, feel it makes the wearer look chunky & stumpy and will therefore pass on copying it? Don't blame you at all...but either way, here are similar pieces below:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="background: white; border-bottom: #bfbfbf 1px solid; border-left: #bfbfbf 1px solid; border-right: #bfbfbf 1px solid; border-top: #bfbfbf 1px solid; display: block; position: relative; width: 430px;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="150" scrolling="no" src="http://widget.shopstyle.com/widget?pid=uid6676-2041974-73&look=2771688&size=Small&width=6&height=1&layouttype=0&border=0&footer=0" width="430"></iframe><br /><div style="bottom: 2px; height: 18px; left: 0px; line-height: 12px; position: absolute; width: 100%;"><div style="left: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 2px; position: absolute;"><a href="http://www.shopstyle.com/browse/J.Crew#pid=uid6676-2041974-73" style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; color: #606060; font: 11px verdana, sans-serif; text-decoration: underline;">More J.Crew...</a></div><div style="padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 3px; position: absolute; right: 0px;"><a href="http://www.shopstyle.com/#pid=uid6676-2041974-73" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;"><img alt="ShopStyle" src="http://resources.shopstyle.com/im/widget/ShopStyleLogo_powered_small.png" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" /></img></a></div></div></div></div>

Does this dress make me look fat? (Correct answer: Actually yes. Yes it does.)

 Sorry about yesterday's lack of post. No, really. I'm sorry. Mostly sorry for myself, though, because now I have to actually figure...

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alexander has nothing on this terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day...

<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhup3GzhAxpfb1esbR9vxgwPFuEXtALu7RLSCgvJOXgUu5DH7K-M1d7pY1WAHjN4IAP50Z4ZMS9aDgRJc84siVc7rjBy6X_RpBEZ3WbQj0oReSGftXG0RJcKfew2M_exnHsbz60IcR3Cixq/s1600/X1britt3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhup3GzhAxpfb1esbR9vxgwPFuEXtALu7RLSCgvJOXgUu5DH7K-M1d7pY1WAHjN4IAP50Z4ZMS9aDgRJc84siVc7rjBy6X_RpBEZ3WbQj0oReSGftXG0RJcKfew2M_exnHsbz60IcR3Cixq/s400/X1britt3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> In a perfect world, II + IIII = VI. But in my imperfect world, and on a fairly rotten day like today, II + IIII = XXIV. Feel free to disagree and/or flunk me in Roman Mathematics. But it won't change the photo.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhohr6iAliAj_wH3HRS0FLHCQpiUoEy4JkTmF6irauW8-0pDMp9_QnDBJ4U74fJGWD195uhG6KC_GwitIj5Rl6ZBnJqzw56lWCRqPAdTXGVphYJzj7quzuaYCfwToQYn0-rTMfGxM5YM1hh/s1600/X1britt2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="347" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhohr6iAliAj_wH3HRS0FLHCQpiUoEy4JkTmF6irauW8-0pDMp9_QnDBJ4U74fJGWD195uhG6KC_GwitIj5Rl6ZBnJqzw56lWCRqPAdTXGVphYJzj7quzuaYCfwToQYn0-rTMfGxM5YM1hh/s400/X1britt2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> boots: target. leg warmers: amazon.com. tights: gift. skirt: gap. shirt: a.n.a. brand. scarf: sweden. bracelet: forever21. fake smile: discontinued.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXXcl7c95RZGXVtfHLYZAuOT8Eno9u5IEuIpJ5_RKTwU5naptMI_BvsBuDE8h95ccjkkG6xXfqlxQlj21HvA5yaci5TcmKKO4qfY-GMIPAgyyraLjSQwUlPr2Kgs4XF7Tqxj27KdW6Yek/s1600/X1britt1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIXXcl7c95RZGXVtfHLYZAuOT8Eno9u5IEuIpJ5_RKTwU5naptMI_BvsBuDE8h95ccjkkG6xXfqlxQlj21HvA5yaci5TcmKKO4qfY-GMIPAgyyraLjSQwUlPr2Kgs4XF7Tqxj27KdW6Yek/s400/X1britt1.jpg" width="347" /></a></div><div align="center">This morning I shaved my legs for the first time in...a long time. Probably somewhere between 5 and 20 days. Give or take. (Preferably not "give," or whichever one makes it longer than 20...) And in doing so, I accidentally gave myself a minor cut (probably from being so out of practice) below my right knee. No biggie, it was small. I got out and got dressed. About 3 minutes later I glanced down and saw a little spot of blood on my tights right there.</div><div align="center"><br />Sweet.</div><br /><div align="center">Now, if I were a hygienic person or even an average specimen of human beingness, I probably would've changed my tights. Buuuuuut instead I simply threw on leg warmers and pulled 'em real high to cover the spot up. Which ended up being okay, because it's snowing. Again.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Without laying it on too thickly, my day has gone downhill from there. Which is why I posted 0.5 of a photo today, and why I'm making this as brief as possible. "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">*cough*</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">See what I mean? But tomorrow's another day. And I bet it'll be a good one.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Happy Thursday.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Want this look? Sans negative attitude? You got it...check it out:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="background: white; border-bottom: #bfbfbf 1px solid; border-left: #bfbfbf 1px solid; border-right: #bfbfbf 1px solid; border-top: #bfbfbf 1px solid; display: block; position: relative; width: 430px;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="150" scrolling="no" src="http://widget.shopstyle.com/widget?pid=uid6676-2041974-73&look=2756132&size=Small&width=6&height=1&layouttype=0&border=0&footer=0" width="430"></iframe><br /><div style="bottom: 2px; height: 18px; left: 0px; line-height: 12px; position: absolute; width: 100%;"><div style="left: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 2px; position: absolute;"><a href="http://www.shopstyle.com/browse/Lucky-Brand#pid=uid6676-2041974-73" style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; color: #606060; font: 11px verdana, sans-serif; text-decoration: underline;">More Lucky Brand...</a></div><div style="padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 3px; position: absolute; right: 0px;"><a href="http://www.shopstyle.com/#pid=uid6676-2041974-73" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;"><img alt="ShopStyle" src="http://resources.shopstyle.com/im/widget/ShopStyleLogo_powered_small.png" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" /></img></a></div></div></div></div>

alexander has nothing on this terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day...

 In a perfect world, II + IIII = VI. But in my imperfect world, and on a fairly rotten day like today, II + IIII = XXIV. Feel free to disagr...

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they call it puppy love...

<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ujwLjotjRiEDugw__euIjBTFGHoyN0bzv-XEmdSILcmEsElqfwoPwkbl2VAtJbrOZneWFS0HC0-NkLGCsshdTA0W_z6Q0HuD1UK4_SiJIqUWKP21dlTlL5etiqQRcyMFC3snjt5GoxnS/s1600/D1britt4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ujwLjotjRiEDugw__euIjBTFGHoyN0bzv-XEmdSILcmEsElqfwoPwkbl2VAtJbrOZneWFS0HC0-NkLGCsshdTA0W_z6Q0HuD1UK4_SiJIqUWKP21dlTlL5etiqQRcyMFC3snjt5GoxnS/s400/D1britt4.jpg" width="312" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">In my head, my body loooked smaller and my arms were much, much larger. I guess, in the grand scheme of things, I'd rather have a lame-looking number four than those proportions, though. So.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirA5wh29vY9DAV8RrKaBPTmyMQ-yphREqJ77QzWmoOj38XGGhIfRGy_tE4CSfttNIyureLSlXLvzjjVYwf8gQbJAtx2-nC-iWO5WB6SsGRHXpwM3-lcF1XRKjGg4nrQpZ-_sbthjKwg46z/s1600/D1britt3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirA5wh29vY9DAV8RrKaBPTmyMQ-yphREqJ77QzWmoOj38XGGhIfRGy_tE4CSfttNIyureLSlXLvzjjVYwf8gQbJAtx2-nC-iWO5WB6SsGRHXpwM3-lcF1XRKjGg4nrQpZ-_sbthjKwg46z/s400/D1britt3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">shoes: american eagle outfitters. legwarmers: amazon (i think). tights: don't recall. skirt & shirt: gap. cardigan: j.crew. flower pin: downeast outfitters.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1E-KQAB9s8D7L6tjmkUSwIxXie9HIb0DKzvfOJ8-ySH3hQtHrmcL8KHRyAcric652RiGvaEOgEvCpGGWNwmWbYh4rhulYrE2377D1Cs8NpkOlfESv65o9oYZNTgxUQNqlcghdLU5ncXV/s1600/D1britt1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1E-KQAB9s8D7L6tjmkUSwIxXie9HIb0DKzvfOJ8-ySH3hQtHrmcL8KHRyAcric652RiGvaEOgEvCpGGWNwmWbYh4rhulYrE2377D1Cs8NpkOlfESv65o9oYZNTgxUQNqlcghdLU5ncXV/s400/D1britt1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjduGcVc5Y68F9eQ6PGJxeJtrmAdiOWTAMhE-wFFsnXzhF_xV7e2zyFjhtXyCY6eq9FBEwuH7gupk3sd0osxMb7ZshLbWajUSDWp2jEkxyPs8kyd-XWu8MVReIKeYFEPHiQELooOexZghu_/s1600/D1britt2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjduGcVc5Y68F9eQ6PGJxeJtrmAdiOWTAMhE-wFFsnXzhF_xV7e2zyFjhtXyCY6eq9FBEwuH7gupk3sd0osxMb7ZshLbWajUSDWp2jEkxyPs8kyd-XWu8MVReIKeYFEPHiQELooOexZghu_/s400/D1britt2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div align="center">Charlie really wanted to be part of today's photo shoot. I tried to get him to look at the camera so you could see how cute he is, but he could only feast his brown puppy-dog eyes [Editor's note: No, seriously. They really are brown, and he really is a puppy.] on me. Because he loves me with that one-of-a-kind love that exists only between a dog and his beloved owner...and, in Charlie's case, between him and any human being who pets him and gives him treats. (Remind me why I'm a dog owner again? Oh, right. Because shoveling the backyard is so fun. I forgot.)</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Actually, we were reading all about canines before we picked what kind of dog we wanted last Fall. In one of our books on boxers, we read that this breed tends to be fiercely loyal and protective; that they can sense if their loved ones are afraid or wary of someone and will compensate with protective bravery. After picking out our puppy, our 6-year-old son informed us, "Don't worry guys. I'll be so so nice to you so Charlie won't attack you."</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Thank you, son. Because your dad and I were both quivering at the idea of an 8-week-old puppy attack. And also? Go clean your room.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Happy Pocket-Gets-Home-Today Friday! What, you're not celebrating too? Strange.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">How I wore these items last: <a href="http://adayinlifetoo.blogspot.com/2011/01/black-turtleneckishness.html">skirt</a>, <a href="http://adayinlifetoo.blogspot.com/2011/01/gifted-slip-dance-of-joy.html">cardigan</a>, <a href="http://adayinlifetoo.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-cant-be-sure-but-i-think-i-deserve.html">leg warmers</a>, <a href="http://adayinlifetoo.blogspot.com/2010/12/its-beginning-to-look-lot-likewednesday.html">ruffle shirt</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">Want this look? Check out the stuff below...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="background: white; border-bottom: #bfbfbf 1px solid; border-left: #bfbfbf 1px solid; border-right: #bfbfbf 1px solid; border-top: #bfbfbf 1px solid; display: block; position: relative; width: 430px;"><iframe frameborder="0" height="150" scrolling="no" src="http://widget.shopstyle.com/widget?pid=uid6676-2041974-73&look=2657197&size=Small&width=6&height=1&layouttype=0&border=0&footer=0" width="430"></iframe><br /><div style="bottom: 2px; height: 18px; left: 0px; line-height: 12px; position: absolute; width: 100%;"><div style="left: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 6px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 2px; position: absolute;"><a href="http://www.shopstyle.com/browse/Coldwater-Creek#pid=uid6676-2041974-73" style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; color: #606060; font: 11px verdana, sans-serif; text-decoration: underline;">More Coldwater Creek...</a></div><div style="padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 3px; position: absolute; right: 0px;"><a href="http://www.shopstyle.com/#pid=uid6676-2041974-73" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px;"><img alt="ShopStyle" src="http://resources.shopstyle.com/im/widget/ShopStyleLogo_powered_small.png" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" /></img></a></div></div></div></div>

they call it puppy love...

In my head, my body loooked smaller and my arms were much, much larger. I guess, in the grand scheme of things, I'd rather have a lame-l...

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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...

Read more »

It's a colorful life...but today's outfit is grey.

<div align="center"> This is an awkward thing, the first post of a shiny new blog. Post 1 is supposed to be witty, engaging, and awesome. Sadly, I'm having flashbacks of blind dates in college where, after the first 20 minutes of awkward chitchat, 94% of me wants to go back home and put on my sweats and watch Seinfeld re-runs. So, yeah. Emotional samesies.<br /><br /></div><div align="center">Anywho, let's just cut to the chase, shall we? I'm not all that cool. I'm not anything close to a model. I'm not really fashion-forward. But I'm thoroughly enjoying the life that getting dressed thoughtfully has breathed into my life lately. And it's not stinky-morning-breath breathing, either. It's refreshingly minty.<br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">And I wanted to share the fun of fashion with the WORLD!! Or, at the very least, my mom.<br /><br /></div><div align="center">Let the awesomeness of fashion blogging begin.<br /><br /><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548168500333872914" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK9nxNgOZn5Go36bwWuAN0pVpHsa78SfxlOhtwESZrPiGFBjE0tfpde2JsQfbAVjV0AU_ShrPJoA5PCXyUXFjcXdRx_sXRQzytjJsfXLGxVkAFSTVC9GY-D_WCvWx58cMZHEzY3qKvOx6K/s400/0Britt.jpg" style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" /></div>

It's a colorful life...but today's outfit is grey.

This is an awkward thing, the first post of a shiny new blog. Post 1 is supposed to be witty, engaging, and awesome. Sadly, I'm having ...

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