Unless you're world-famous author JK Rowling, this just isn't OK

I was at a coffee shop the other day when a woman dressed pretty professionally walked in and sat a few tables away. I only noticed her because she was talking to FunnyKid and making faces at him. Otherwise she would have blended in with all the other professionally dressed people who have meetings or do work at coffee shops everywhere.

Anyway, the woman went to sit down and I noticed that in addition to her dress, Bluetooth in her ear and the laptop bag she was carrying, she was wearing a jean jacket. I thought that was a little odd because I didn't think jean jackets are in fashion anymore, but whatever. Then she turned around and I noticed the jacket had a huge crest embroidered on the back. Wondering what (jean jacket-wearing) club she belonged to, I looked a little closer and read the word "Hogwarts."

Oh yes, professionally dressed lady at Panera to work on her laptop, I don't care what kind of work you do, you will not be getting my business. Because you could be the best *insert job title here* in the world who makes millions of dollars a year and has a waiting list of people begging you to let them be your clients and I just can't get past the fact that you think you're an alum of an imaginary school in a young adult novel. Next time, Harriet Potter, a black blazer is a better choice.

My, how a kid changes your priorities...

Last year at this time, I would have considered my biggest accomplishments to be meeting a deadline at work, avoiding too much traffic on my commute home and getting a decent meal on the table for dinner.

My latest big accomplishment is the fact that I finally fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans. A small accomplishment, for sure, but you would never know it from the happy dances I've been doing ever since.

I'm in danger of being reported to the fashion police

With kat's lil sis, her husband and the two cutest nephews in the world visiting this week, the Pretend Husband and I gave up our room and moved into the guest room. So, each night this week, I have gone up to our room to pick out my work clothes for the next day. Last night, I didn't because there was a clean basket of laundry in the guest room and I figured I could find my clothes there.

My only option this morning was a black thong under white capri pants. And wouldn't you know, this is the only morning this week that my nephews let their parents sleep in, so no one was awake when I left (and there's no way I was going to take a chance at waking two sleeping kiddos by going into my closet).

So, I'm sporting quite the look at work today. I'm laying low in my office and as far as I know, none of my coworkers have noticed my apparel (either that, or they're too polite to say anything). I figure it's better to have them staring at my butt than the huge, protruding belly in the front anyway!

Shhh, let's let him think he has a chance with the ladies...

I wasn't going to post anything today because the funny has been lacking around here, but then I found a conversation the Pretend Husband and I had this weekend that I had transcribed onto my phone for a future blog posting.

I got up early on Saturday morning to go to a tag sale with SJ (I know, we are wild and crazy, aren't we?!?) I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt and had not showered. The PH and SJ's husband both decided at the last minute to join us and the PH came down the stairs all showered and decked out in khakis and a polo shirt.

"Hon, you look way better than I do for a tag sale," I said.

"You know how many ladies will be there who don't work on Saturday nights?" the PH replied (It should be noted that I work at a radio station on Saturday nights).

"Why? Are you looking to replace your baby mama?" I asked.

"I'm going to work the crowd," he said. "You working Saturday nights is severely affecting my social life."

(Does it even need to be noted that the PH came home from the CHURCH TAG SALE without any phone numbers? Or that he spent his Saturday night like he often does-- cuddling on the couch with the dogs watching sports? Yeah, that's why I don't worry when he gets dressed up and goes out to "work the crowd.")

Next option is a bikini-- and believe me, NO ONE wants that...

With the temperature soaring this weekend, the Pretend Husband and I decided to hit the beach. I had two options for maternity swim tops-- a black number my sister gave me and a black number I picked up somewhere. But, when I went to try them on, I found each of the tops had their own drawbacks.

Kat's lil sis is, uh, not as top-heavy as I am so the plunging V, which probably looked great on her and showed off a little cleavage, was more like the start of a strip show for me. And the other top fit well in front, but had one small tie across the back, essentially leaving my whole back (and large, pregnant butt) open to the elements (although I should clarify I had bottoms on so my wide butt was covered, but not at all camouflaged...)

Having to choose between an unflattering look I couldn't see (my butt) and one I could (my chest), I chose the one I could keep an eye on. The afternoon then consisted of my trying to keep from flashing the beach every time I moved, the PH throwing panicked looks my way when he thought something was about to happen and some weird placement of my arms in an effort to not teach sex education to the little kids in the area before they were ready for it.

Needless to say, I will be shopping for a new maternity swimsuit this week. Do you think they come in "turtleneck?"

No, I will not pay $4 for your slightly-used roll of paper towels

SJ and I hit up a bajillion consignment sales, tag sales and consignment shops this weekend in our quest to outfit both our pregnant selves and our future offspring in awesome clothes for cheap. I won't bore you with details, but it involved me finding the bouncy seat I registered for at half the price at a consignment shop and SJ hoping she really is having a girl because she bought some flowery GAP sweaters that were too cute to resist.

Going to so many places allowed us to kind of compare how people run their tag sales-- and just how much they value their possessions. For example, one tag sale had a Baby Bjorn infant carrier priced at $30 (they retail for $80). Another tag sale had the same one priced at $8. I found some really cute prints of frogs that would have gone well in our nursery-- until I noticed the woman wanted $50 for them. I'm not sure I spent $50 in the entire day, let alone on a single set of items.

On the flip side, we found a tag sale that wanted $1 apiece for maternity tops and 50 cents or a dollar per baby outfit. We like tag sales like that and left with huge piles of clothes.

Here's how I see it. Yes, you paid a lot for your stuff (especially baby stuff, which is not cheap!) Yes, it's in good shape. No, you're not going to get your money back. And let's be honest-- you were probably planning on giving it away anyway. Here's your chance to see it go to a good home and make a couple of bucks in the process. But don't expect to be able to re-do your kitchen on your tag sale proceeds. Because, being the seasoned tag sale veterans we are (OK, SJ more than me, but she's teaching me), we are going to sniff out whatever deals you have (hello, brand new Bundle Me for $10) and leave the expensive stuff for the suckers. Either that, or we will return at the end of the day and bargain with you until SJ pays $20 and walks off with more brand name baby outfits than she can carry.

Let's make a deal

If there is anything I love more than shopping, it's getting a good deal. I can enjoy a new shirt or dress, but will love it even more if I know I got a good deal on it. And I got a heck of a deal this weekend at a consignment sale for baby and maternity stuff.

One of the school PTOs put on the consignment sale this weekend and I figured it might have some good kid and maternity stuff. It turns out the whole sale was full of maternity, baby and children's stuff (I will be going back every year to buy the following year's sizes). And the maternity rack was huge (yay for moms of elementary school students who are done having kids!)

Pea in the Pod dresses for $20 (which I've heard usually sell for $80), cargo pants for $5-

$10 and shirts for $4 (I got four shirts for the price of one at GAP maternity!) And the stuff is all in great shape-- so great that if I take care of it, I could probably sell it at the consignment sale in a few years.

And this obsession with being frugal obviously runs in the family because kat's lil sis called me a few weeks ago to describe a consignment sale in her area where she got 20 items of clothing for Peyton and a few toys for less than $40. Then she had spotted an infant carrier and called to ask if I was going to register for one. I figured I would and she asked how I would feel about a used one that cost $5. Heck, for $5, I can love almost anything!

She sent the carrier, which is in great shape. I tested out and can now vouch that it works just as well as a new one.

Or, Option C: I'm hotter than even I realized.

Running from one job to the other on Friday, I stopped at Dunkin Donuts for anything that would get me through the rest of my 15-hour day. I walked in wearing a grey fleece, jeans and my black leather boots. Now, these boots are the kind with a pointy toe and a tall, thin heel that have been called my-- uh-- "make love to me" boots (kids, never mind what that means. And kids, why are you reading this blog? I'm sometime embarrassed to have SJ's mom reading my stuff, let alone small children!)

Anyway, the boots are pretty awesome and were also pretty much covered up by my jeans (and did I mentioned I was wearing a drab, gray fleece?) So, I'm standing at the counter and I hear a man say, "Those are nice boots." I turn around and find a guy in a fraying sweatshirt and baggy jeans with a big gut and his 10-year-old son standing next to him. Seeing as how his son was there, I simply answered, "Thank you" and turned back around.

But, seriously, what was that about? I think we have a couple of options here. Option A: This guy, despite his complete lack of fashion sense in his own wardrobe, is a connoisseur of women's fashion and truly appreciated my choice of footwear for the day. Option B: Despite the presence of his 10-year-old son and the fact that there was nothing else appealing about what I was wearing, he was drawn in by my fantastic-- uh-- "make love to me" boots and couldn't resist commenting on them. Either way, it was creepy (not that I would stop wearing the boots or anything, but still, it was creepy.)

Some marketing person thinks I'm old

It happened. A J. Jill catalog came in the mail yesterday. This morning, I started flipping through it. And while some of their stuff is nice, I guess, I am definitely not in their preferred demographic. Because, for example, I'm not 40 and planning to live at our summer home at the Hamptons for three months. So there's no reason for me to have "shimmer linen cropped pants" and "Wearever tunics" and "raffia totes." Especially not at J. Jill prices.

Being a J. Jill target, on top of the Lands End and LL Bean catalogs I've been getting lately, has started to get me down a bit. I'm not quite ready for high-rise mom jeans. No, I don't need summer white denim with flowy cardigans, perfect for those cool evenings by the ocean. And I see no need for sensible shoes when chasing after the little ones (partly because of the lack of "little ones" and partly because I'm still in a "completely insensible but totally cute" shoe phase)

And I wondered what purchase I made lately that tipped off J. Jill that I'm rapidly approaching the age where $139 linen tunics seem like a good idea. But, just as I started to feel too old, I flipped over the catalog. It is addressed to the Pretend Husband. I'll just put it right over here next to his latest membership offer from AARP.

Oscar Night: Someone get the popcorn.

I don't usually do this kind of blog. And by usually, I mean ever.

I decided since my original Oscar night plans fell through, it doesn't mean the glamour has to be missed (was going to attend glamorous party in fantastic blue retro inspired dress, but j and I are having a rough weekend. and he's leaving for KC first thing in the a.m.). So because of this, I chose to bake and stay home and record my thoughts via text (to various friends, but notably, our blogger friends -- Poor, Pat. It must be annoying for someone who doesn't watch many movies but has much to say about people's outfits to randomly text you.) and Twitter, where I laughed out loud at our friend Andy.

I didn't watch any of the red carpet stuff until we got home. I turned in at 8 p.m. Now, I love me some Oscar fashions. Mostly, I am jealous. Mostly, I envy their perfect size 2 figures.

However. That said, I also think that if I had their budgets and figures, I could do better.

See?

I figured, no sense letting this great outfit go to waste. So I'm dressed up, old Hollywood style. It seems only right.

My initial thoughts on fashion:
Someone has stolen the sleeves off of Kate Winslett and Marissa Tomei's dresses.
Daniel Craig has to stand 10 feet away from Carrie.. I mean SJP in order to give enough room to her dress.
Jessica Biel, fire your stylist.
Amy Adams - love that necklace.
Anne Hathaway. Meh. Looks like Xanadu - the ballet.
The girl from Mamma Mia looks awesome.
The girl from High School Musical looks like someone went a little crazy with the bows.
Tilda Swinton is really beautiful. Last year, she scared me a little.
Angelina Jolie could probably wear a bag and look awesome.
Mickey Rourke scares me this year.
The girl from Slumdog Millionaire looks gorgeous.
Reese also looks like her dress changed its mind. It was going to have wide straps. And then, no. Narrow straps.


Other Oscar moments:
I was so hoping for song and dance with Hugh Jackman. He didn't disappoint.
FTW: did SJP actually introduce Matthew Broderick to an interviewer? Say what?
I forgot Roy Scheider died.
And I also forgot about Richard Widmark.
And the girl from Gone With the Wind.
And Cid Charese!
I was wondering what happened to the Heath picture, and then I figured they must have done something last year, because he died in January 2008.
"Wow. Slumdog Millionaire won again."

And granted, they're not over yet. But I'm going to guess that Slumdog wins best picture, and go to bed. I am hoping that Kate Winslett wins. Because she's awesome.

Let me know if I was wrong about Slumdog. I'm heading to bed.

holy swizzle sticks, batman! get me a vodka tonic - STAT!

i'm not sure where to begin this post, because my brain is *fried.* i've had the worst week in months, with back to back meetings that required too much preparation, and i am burnt up after this kind of week.

and really, i don't have much to share. except, of course, my choice in legwear/footwear. frankly, it suits my mood. but it totally has me concerned that someone may try to drop a house on Jen.

Just call me Busty the mythbuster...

Myth #1: Husbands are insensitive jerks. I busted that one on our first wedding anniversary when the Pretend Husband presented me with both a funny and sensitive gift. Because the traditional first anniversary gift is paper, the PH went for a paper theme and filled the most hideous dollar store gift bag (that's the funny part, along with a dollar store thank you card as my anniversary card because the monkey on the front said I not only made his day, but his whole year...) with a huge pack of Post-It notes. But not only did he give me paper, he wrote on the first note of each stack, things like, "Happy Anniversary" and "Thank you for everything you do" and "I love you." Of course, the PH didn't realize how many Post-Its come in a pack and quickly ran out of things to say, so the notes toward the bottom of the bag said things like, "I love paper products" and "Molly smells. Love, Casey" and "Casey eats poop. Love, Molly," but still, it's the thought that counts, right?

Myth #2: Low rise tights are not an option. After SJ mentioned her frustration with finding anything but low-rise tights, I was curious. And, since the only tights I could find last night were low-rise, I decided to give them a shot. And here's the thing... I'm worried I've been wearing my tights too low all along (were they supposed to cover my boobs, too?) because the "low-rise" version? They sit at my waist, just like the regular version always did. Oh, and apologies to our one male reader, WildARS, for having to even think about this topic (and apologies to his girlfriend Capricorn because now he has the sexy image of me wearing tights up to my armpits in his head!)

Myth #3: Dark paint makes rooms appear smaller. As someone who just painted her bedroom navy blue, I can attest this one is not true. Because we just moved almost every piece of furniture we own into the room and I still have a huge gaping expanse to fill (wow, my bedroom sounds huge-- oh, did I forget to mention I actually grew up in a castle?). So, everyone is invited over Thursday for Jazzercise to put the extra space to good use (leg warmers are optional, but leotards are a must).

Letters from SJ

Dear Winter,

I love you more than most seasons. I do - you're so cool and you come with Christmas, hot cocoa and fireplaces -- which is awesome.

But what the @#% is with the static on my poor hair? Seriously? Just once I'd be able to wear my hair straight and down for more than 2 hours before having to secure it into a nerdly librarian bun. Just *once.*

Screw you and your dry air,
SJ

***
Dear Target,

I heart you and your fabulous bargains. But can we discuss your layout? Why do you have to be different in every freakin' store I visit? Why do you insist on hiding things from me? You know I want to buy that fabulous pair of striped tights, and yet? You only carry them in one of the four Targets that I pass on my way home.

Why?

Yours,
SJ

***
Dear Manufacturer of Low-Rise Tights,

WTF?

-SJ

I have a little crush on the Pope.

okay. not the real pope. because that would be wrong.

but i mean the pope from the Connecticut Renaissance Faire. i spent some time chatting with the pretend pope when i was hiding from the various random men that tend to ogle you when you wear outfits like the one i was wearing. (totally my fault i realize, but you cannot authentically sing sea shanties in jeans and graphic tees.)

that dude (the pope, i mean) is living the dream. i mean, really. he's an entertainer who makes a living out of entertaining. i find it incredibly admirable. i wish i had a sustainable talent that would allow me to do that. but alas. i don't, ergo, i have a day job.

but today my day job let me do something rather fun. namely: go talk to little kids about the value of newspapers. today is national newspaper week, so in honor of that, i went to talk to a classroom of fifth graders all about their newspapers.

andy, you'll be happy to know they still read them.

i was a little nervous that i'd walk in with a pile of newspapers and the children would stare blankly at me like i was holding some obscure thing from the past -- like perhaps that spoon that was invented in the 1790s that was designed to shoot medicine to the back of your throat to circumvent the horrid taste as this was before the discovery of high fructose corn syrup?

you know. something like that.

but no. they totally got it. but how alarmed was i that the children didn't seem at all impressed that the first online newspaper "recently" debuted in 1994? likely because they, in fact, were not born until 1998. 1994 was 14 freakin' years ago. that's a freshmen in high school.

when i was a freshmen in high school, the extent of our technology was message boards on prodigy. (anyone? can i get a holla back for message boards?) i can't imagine having a high school relationship in the days of instant messenger.

there is *no way* i would have sustained a relationship longer than an hour.

the things i'm willing to do for the blog....

as promised.

by the way - the caption for this is "holy crap, i'm not sure i can wear this in public."

how i am just like brittany spears

i know, right? who knew.

but i am.

it all has to do with a severe miscalculation on my part about the texture of my foundation garment (fun and lacy) and my comfortable knit dress (fun and not lacy).

due to this miscalculation, i had to determine a solution that would prevent my dress from clinging indiscreetly to my nether regions. because that's what was going on.

which led me to a choice. go without? or just go with it. i polled some co-workers discreetly.

i tried to go without for a little while, but i had a meeting with my ceo, who likes me to sit right next to him when going through reports, etc. and quite frankly, he's in many ways very father-like. and i just couldn't deal with the mental thought of being without my undies in my boss's office. it was quite frankly, unfathomable.

but, for a brief (or... um.. hiphugger) period today, i was indeed modeling the behavior of Brittany Spears.

current itunes song: "portions for foxes" by rilo kiley

I will never understand men... especially the one I'm married to!

So my last post was about the Pretend Husband's bad day, which included getting rear ended at a stoplight. Here's the update: the next morning, the PH was going out the door when he stopped and said, "I'm wearing the same pants from yesterday. I'm going to try to reverse my bad luck."

He went on to say something about a "lucky suit" that he wears when he needs his day to go smoothly, but I was laughing too hard at his concept of re-wearing pants to reverse his luck to listen.

(Then he got proven right because after seven months of fighting with an insurance company trying to get them to finally cancel our insurance policy with them, we got a big rebate check. When I told the PH, he said he's going to continue to wear that pair of pants until we win the lottery.)

Ooooh, new shoes!

On a typical weekday, I leave the house looking something like this:


(I know, you're jealous of our wonderful green kitchen floor, aren't you?)

But TODAY, today, I'm leaving for an "appointment" looking more like this:


(Kick ass black heels, a pedicure, not looking like a schlub... oh yeah!)

Any guesses about my "appointment"? I will update later...

"why thank you... i love my shoes too"

it's true that i have a rather unnatural obsession for footwear (although, i should mention that it is NOT a footwear fetish, not unlike something KAT has gone through -- and now we're coming up when people search on foot fetish... nice...).

i do love shoes. i'm no carrie bradshaw or anything, but i do love a great cute pair of shoes. i cringe at practical loafers and wouldn't be caught dead in things i would have worn 8 years ago or so. this love of shoes, however, sadly, has not been easy because i have not yet learned to walk in heels. although i have them, and make many attempts to wear them. so far, the best i can do is 2 inches.

which brings me to my most recent footwear mishap. today i'm wearing happy little purple ballet flats (that i bought for $7 when i was shopping with KAT), but Monday, i thought i'd get all crazy and wear my lovely bill blass pointy toe black pumps. i don't know what made me think I could wear them without incident for 10 hours.

somewhere in the mid afternoon, i was standing there, speaking with a colleague when my boss walked by. he paused to join us when suddenly, my brain told my leg to move without telling my feet. and there i was. suddenly lop-sided. a rather common phenomenon in SJ world that's commonly referred to "I fell off of my shoes." he looked at me, first with concern, then with parental supervision.

"are you okay?"
"yes..."
"did you just fall..?"
"... off of my shoes, yes."
"are you okay?"
"every once in a while, i get a little afraid of heights."

Who would think a sweater could make me this frustrated?

I mentioned to the Pretend Husband that I bought his sister a beautiful cashmere sweater for Christmas. Not only that, but it's normally $88 and I got it for $30. I don't know the Pretend-Sister-in-Law's taste very well, but I quizzed my coworkers and the consensus was that a cashmere sweater is something you might not buy for yourself and are sure to enjoy.

So I told the PH about the sweater and mentioned I was thinking about going back to the store to get one for myself.
"Well, can it count toward the gifts I'm getting you?" he asked.
"Ok, sure," I replied, thinking he's probably having trouble coming up with present ideas.
"When you get it, could you just wrap it and put it under the tree?"
*I think that's about the time my phone accidentally hung up on him*

So, this sweater... the PH and his sister decided to do some Christmas shopping last night, so I showed him the sweater I got her and asked him to get me one while he was at the store. When I got home later, his comment was, "The sweater's yours." Apparently, while his sister was helping him pick out a sweater for me, she mentioned how much she didn't like it. And the color? The beautiful periwinkle blue I picked out because I thought it was nice... and so much better than the bland black or grey? She thought it was "an old lady color."

Well, this old lady's wearing a pretty nice sweater at work today and has gotten plenty of compliments. Oh, and in future years? The PH can do all the shopping for his family. I give up.