StitchFix #7 Review

You win some, you lose some.  It has been a busy month and I didn't give my stylist many guidelines about my needs.  I mentioned that I needed some blue jeans, but I should have been a bit more specific about what I needed.  So this fix was kind of disappointing.  Bummer.

Level 99 Dilan Distressed Boyfriend Jean

So, these jeans. First off, the color is horrible.  They don't go with anything.  I need a classic pair of jeans and these are more like baby-blue colored jeans.  Then, the distressing...well...it really IS distressing. All the way up the leg and the knee.  I could never pay 98 dollars for jeans I would only feel comfortable wearing to garden.  Nobody wants to see a 40 year old mom's thighs squishing out of her jeans. Finally, the length:  too short to wear unrolled, so they can only be cuffed.  I hate being limited to only one way to wear them.  These fall under the "if you wore it the first time it was in style, you cannot wear it the second time it comes around" category.  I have a picture of myself in these jeans c. 1989 and it's not good, my friends. Not good at all.  They are light and comfortable enough even for summer, but these were a big miss for me.  I probably wouldn't have been so negative about them if I didn't just really have high hopes for the right kind of jeans for me.  The gray ones I got in my first fix were just so great, I had really high expectations.  Staring down the barrel of jean shopping in the stores now just feels like an overwhelming task, but I might have to resort to the GAP if I'm going to have something to wear.  

Papermoon Malton Knit Tee

Previous fix - black skirt

Next the top: Geometric and neon. Ugh.  I know this is a huge trend and I'm supposed to like it, but having seen it on Etsy for YEARS now, I'm so over it. Much like my chevron-fatigue, I have just reached the point of overload of this combination.  There's no way my stylist could know this, I realize now.  The cut of the shirt is great and I like the weight of the fabric well enough to keep this one.  I may pair it with my black skirt to hide the beam of light around my middle.  I know it photographs well, but I just cannot understand how bringing the eye to the part of your body that you are most uncomfortable with is the best strategy.

Fun2Fun Melika Button Down Blouse

This one is easy enough. Plaid is good. Weight of fabric is good.  The collar is a little heavy.  The only real negative on this one is that the finishing is really iffy.  For example, the buttonholes are not completely trimmed, so every time you button or unbutton it, you have multiple threads that pull.  In this fabric, it puckers and pulls the rest of the shirt.  I am keeping this one because it is very versatile, but I will be trimming all the threads first.  

Brixon Ivy Romford Stretch Lace Knit Top

Now this shirt.  It's a stretch lace top over a cami in navy blue. Something about the cut of the cami is a bit disastrous.  It cuts too far under the armpit, leaving too much exposed underneath.  The technical terminology is, I think, "tasteful side boob."  Other than that, it looks remarkably "granny" on me.  Not sure if it is the color, but I just couldn't see this in any other way than dowdy.  Maybe if it was longer or had a less purple under-tone.  I tried it with darker jeans and it was a little better, but not enough to make this one worth it.  I think I know what they were shooting for, but this just did not work for me. 

Side note: the dark jeans?  Stretchy jeggings from Target and the most boyfriend jeans of all:  my husband's.  Also, I cut my own bangs.  I might be too crunchy and DIY for the fashion world to help me.  *Sigh*

Market and Spruce Maeby Dress

Finally, the fifth piece: an actual winner, but I cannot nurse in it.  I wish the pattern was more of a floral than a geometric, but the cut is deceptively simple and easy.  I think this will be a keeper for years to come that can be worn in all seasons.  This is a good example of something I would never pick out for myself that works for me.   

So, this one falls in the experiment category.  It's good to try things, even if you don't end up with a hoped-for result. We can keep trying for the right jeans, I guess.  Maybe I should have just asked for five more pairs of those linen shorts I got last time because I wear them ALL. THE. TIME!  

Want to try it?  You can use my code: https://www.stitchfix.com/referral/4519894

Ten Years Later

Forgive me the introspective posts, but I read an article on NPR today about how much we change in 10 years and yet we still have a hard time imagining that we will change in the future. Here is a link.

I can't help but think about change in light of the fact that we'll being going to a conference this weekend where we may see the author Brian McLaren, who Robb met back in the summer. During their conversation  Brian inquired about me, which really helped to repaint my old feelings of wanting to punch him in the face at one time not so long ago....but I digress. He said that he meets a lot of guys whose theology and practice have changed. They are reading books, meeting other thinkers and sharing ideas and thereby develop in their beliefs, but their wives are often left out of these conversations. In the worst situations, a woman finds herself caught between her pastor husband who has moved into a new arena of thinking that is scary for her, and a pastor-daddy who hasn't moved at all.  I feel for those women. Because the only way out of that situation is to sit down and do some reading, thinking and owning of your own theology. But it takes time. There is no substitute for time. Not in learning. Not in grief. Not in making changes. Time is transformative.

Ten years ago....I was 28 years old.  (I had to stop and take that in for a moment. Twenty freaking eight. TWENTY 8. Dang.)

The year was 2003 and I was the mother of a 3 and 1 year old. We had just purchased our first house (THAT house).

I was deeply depressed. Whether postpartum or seasonal affective disorder, I don't know, but I have trouble bringing those days to the front of my memory. I had to go find a picture in a scrapbook because there were no digital pictures, no iphones, no blog, no facebook, just an old PC that Dr. Carter gave me as a gift for helping him move out of his office when he retired.  He was still living on earth and we were still emailing on a regular basis. I took pictures of the kids with a film camera and there are very few shots of me, mostly blurry images that I asked Robb to take to prove my existence.

I spent an afternoon looking at those pictures and while my clothes and hair made me cringe (seriously, girl, couldn't you do SOMETHING with that hair?) it was the snapshot of that girl's mind that most surprises me.

I had no friends my own age that I spent time with. I had no friends that were not connected to the church.  I had no unchurched, non-Christian, non-fundamentalist friends, nor friends of any other Protestant denomination.  I had zero interactions with the LGBT community. I had zero interactions with atheists, pagans, hippies, agnostics, Jehovah's Witness, Mormons,  Jews or Muslims.  I voted straight-ticket Republican and struggled to understand how a democrat could also be a Christian. It was inconceivable in my mind.  I had a firm grasp of Christian contemporary music at the time, but no idea what was popular on the secular radio stations.  I played the piano from the hymnal and praise chorus book if I was needed on a Sunday evening service. I primarily read Christian non-fiction books about theology or devotionals by Kay Arthur.  I felt guilty for not being more faithful to the inductive Bible study method. I don't recall seeing movies, but I think we saw one or two a year if it was something we really liked. Drinking alcohol was prohibited by our church constitution and membership agreement.

I spent every single night watching hours of television. I thought play dates were something made up for tv show families and I stayed home with my kids all the time except for church and when we went to get groceries and go shopping as a family. I weaned my son cold-turkey at 8 months because he bit me. I had never heard of attachment theory. I expected my kids to sleep in their own beds from about 6 weeks on (with varying success rates) I rarely went out alone. Sometimes we went to the public library.  I had no goals for the future other than getting Robb into a doctoral program and doing whatever it took to get him into the upper leadership of the church's denominational fellowship.  I could only envision myself as a housewife and couldn't imagine having a job or working outside our home.  My only concern was our home and making it pretty. I did all the regular cooking, cleaning, and laundry and would have been mortified if Robb was to do any of this kind of work since it was my duty. I couldn't imagine life beyond Calvin's baby-hood, but I expected to have two more kids after him. Adoption was something we had talked about in the past, but we were sure it was expensive and we were not thinking much about our future.

I was afraid to drive on highways and went out of my way to stay on back roads due to a near-accident I had while I was pregnant with Mattie. I was afraid of Robb dying. I was afraid of conflict. I was afraid of being alone. I was afraid of criticism. I was afraid of life.

I thought family members would always be there and I took them for granted. My grandparents were both living and so was my brother in law. 

I had no concept of recycling or the environment and sincerely believed that if God made the world that humans couldn't mess it up enough to hurt it much.  The extent of my knowledge of Africa was that they were poor and hungry. I had no idea of the extent of the epidemic of AIDS or of any ways that could be helped.  I knew that Compassion International was an agency that Michael W. Smith helped. I knew nothing about the foster care system in America or of the way it worked.

We ate whatever we could afford from the local grocery store, and I pretty much bought whatever was cheapest. We though eating at McDonalds was a treat and Sunday nights often found us eating a Super-sized meal, in bed, while watching tv.

I knew that Dr. Cater believed that someday people would buy everything from the internet, right down to their shoes, but I wasn't sure I believed him.  If I could have, I would have bought everything from the mall, but as it was, I shopped at Walmart.  I believed that if it came from the mall it was better than handmade. We were in debt up to our eyeballs with no plan to get out.

As I think on these things, I am genuinely astounded by the extent and profundity of the changes.  I changed at the core of my values and beliefs. I am also amazed by how much more alive I am. How I "own" my life now....back then I was living someone else's life by someone else's standards. I was waiting for someone to give me permission to make choices.  Much of what I did do was out of false bravado and trying to blend in.  My lack of understanding myself led ironically to being self-conscious and awkward, not free to serve and love others.  I am also surprised at how the changes were brought about by such small things... like joining the Public Library book club.  Having a conversation with a lady at my garage sale.  Going for a walk and finding an estate auction. One thing that led to another.

I really can't imagine what I will be like ten years from now. Aside from the extra 10 pounds each decade though, I feel really optimistic about the future.  I know that there will be times of pain, but there will also be growth. And hopefully, better haircuts.

The Deed is Done

In preparation for our fourth annual Book Character Day (in lieu of flat out Halloween at school)
Vin had a pretty specific idea in mind for his costume. It's not a surprise.  But I felt like I needed to take some very focused pictures that could some day pretty momentous ....you know....when he graduates from West Point.

(the other two, by the way....Chuck is getting ears at school to be one of the 101 Dalmatians and Mattie is obviously a fashion designer, duh.)

Before

My Dad.

He broke the clippers and probably my heart.

Oh be still my heart. This boy.  They say for every boy you have, they take two years off their mother's life.   This little over-achiever is probably taking four.

Neither Here nor There

I haven't been able to pull together any thoughts to post here...I suppose that is because we are in one of those funny spots in life when things are on the verge of changing...just three more days of school...augh!

Summer will be fun and different. I need to sit down and decide which of the four million camps, classes and sports would be a good fit for the kids this year. And thank goodness for the pool. I know money doesn't buy happiness, but 200 bucks buys something very much like it.

I have about five ideas for mosaic projects, 3 home projects I want to sew and eleven-teen other ideas for the Etsy store. That has taken up a lot of my time...probably because every time I click on it, I must obsessively check to see how many people "heart me." (that means they like my junk.) This extremely addicting. And it wastes a lot of time.

My parents will be here in just a week and I am alternating between Christmas-like-anticipation and full-on nervous breakdown. Obviously, my parents will be looking at my baseboards to check their cleanliness and will be disappointed with me as a daughter if under the kitchen sink is all crazy-like. I want to steam clean the carpets, wash all the windows, bleach the shower stalls, organize the garage, and have everything in apple-pie order before they come. And sadly, I don't really want to.

But seriously, folks, it is raining. I forget that the Ozarks draw you out with a lovely spring and then it rains for the entire month of May. My yard is a soupy, green jungle.

Wildlife. Oh yeah...it's a veritable wild kingdom here. I have replaced a fallen mourning dove fledgling TWICE to it's flimsy nest. I now know that mourning doves make truly lousy nests. I read that you can often see their eggs through the twigs in the bottom and that they hatch out about six sets of young per year. They've got a real Trailer Trash kinda thing going on.

We are also entertaining ants. I hate them and I squash them and spray them and otherwise wrench the life from their little bodies whenever I see them...which is often. But a full scale assault is coming as soon as the rain lets up. For now, I am allowing two spiders to work a couple of the corners in the kitchen and living room. Normally, the spiders would be dispatched post-haste, but when I noticed the ant body-count under their webs, I realized they are on my side.


Also in the living things category, our neighbor's puppy wandered into the street the other day just as a storm was brewing up. They were not home, so we babysat Tiny for a few hours, which I will not lie...really left me a baby yen. The fact that this little guy is the size of a grapefruit, slept on my lap for an hour, awakened with a case of hiccups, and did not pee in my house...well, he had me wrapped around his little itty bitty wittle paws.

140. I stepped on the scale today and that is the number that assaulted my eyeballs. I am like FOR REAL giving up home-made ice-cream, chocolate chip cookies, that second burger and for darn certain that second beer...you know, just that stuff I ate last night. There is a reason the words "fat" and "happy" go together so well.

I think I have poison ivy in my belly button and my nose. I'm not kidding.

Also, sometime during this weekend, we helped a friend move, Robb did a wedding, we did a premarital counseling session with another couple, we continued to shop for a mini-van, I "taught" the kid's at Vintage, Charleigh got a tent, we all swam in the pool yesterday, I made one of my decoupage suit-cases, I cut Robb and Charleigh's hair, we had a BBQ with our small group, and I hit a really fantastic estate sale. But not in that order.

Who Let the Rocker-Chick in Here???

 

Sorry for the annoying self-absorption, but it was the only one I managed out of about 25 attempts with my eyes open.

Snip Snip

 

 

 

 

I suppose it was time, though I really liked my guys' mops of hair. I think I had a a harder time cutting theirs than the girl's hair a couple months ago!

Sharon Osborne called and wants her hair back

I was talking to my mom the other day and realized she didn't know I got my hair cut, so here's a pic for you mom.

And for my sisters, do you remember the time we stayed at Grandma's house and she let us play in that spooky little attic and we found the pink vinyl box that we were sure it was Barbies? Then we opened the box and.....SCREAMED.....because it was HAIR!

Yeah, my haircut, a lot like Grandma's wig.

She would love it.