"I should be packing."

So, I leave tomorrow and I should be packing, but instead I'm obsessively making lists of outfits I might wear on my trip.

Then I laid them out on the floor and took photos of them.

You do that, right?

Tomorrow, on the plane to Washington, DC:

Click on photos to embiggen.

Black leggings, long-sleeved black t-shirt, gray cardigan, black loafers. Very casual & comfortable. Don't want to start out too high because then you can only go down from there.

Tomorrow evening, charity cocktail party:

Black leggings, gray empire waist cableknit sweater, black boots, cuff bracelet & cocktail ring. It's important for me to look appropriately dressed but still kind of blend into the crowd. I'm not the star here.

Sunday, Metropolitan Cooking & Entertainment Show:

Straight jeans, short-sleeved black turtleneck, cropped plum jacket, boots. It's a working day for me.

Monday, on the train to New York:

Boyfriend jeans, short-sleeved black t-shirt, gray cardigan and black loafers. A comfy travel outfit that is still fashionable enough to arrive in the Big Apple.

Tuesday, TODAY show appearance & Wendy Williams taping:

Straight jeans, long-sleeved black turtleneck, cropped khaki jacket, boots. It's another work day for me, and network TV calls for a certain professionalism.

Wednesday, flight to Atlanta:

Black leggings, white t-shirt, black cableknit single-button cardigan, black loafers. This will actually be the longest flight of the trip, so comfort is the priority.

Thursday, TBS studios:
This is the only outfit I haven't decided on. I might wear the sweater & leggings from the cocktail party - I'll want to look cute for all the TV people. Or I might be so worn out that I wear the most comfy outfit I can put together. Or I might wear the only thing I haven't spilled coffee on in the previous five days. We'll see.

I just got these awesome new nail colors in the mail.
I'm going to have my nails done in the gray ("Stormy") tomorrow. It's edgy without being quite so goth as black.

All right kiddos. Going to pack now.
xoxox

"I could never forget you."

I started a post last night that went like this: "Fuck, ya'll...I'm middle-aged." but then this morning I woke up to the most wonderful birthday gift a 43-year-old girl could ask for: My first best friend found me on facebook.

I met Lisa at the start of second grade. She was in my brother's kindergarten class. My mom, a SAHM, and her mom, a nurse, got to talking and next thing you know my mom is Lisa's after-school babysitter. In addition to spending every afternoon together, she also walked to school and back with me every day. Lisa lived in the cove behind ours and since a 5- and 7-year-old wouldn't have been allowed to walk around the block alone, the man who lived behind us — I forget his name but he had a little fluffy dog named Reuben — allowed my dad to place a couple cement blocks on either side of the chain link fence so we could climb it and cut through his yard.

Lisa and I were complete opposites really. She was a tomboy with short dark hair who was active in sports. I was petite and girlie with long hair. We spent our time doing things like playing Little House on the Prairie in dress-up: she was always Laura and I was Mary. Or singing and dancing to records we played on her red plastic record player: "Snoopy & Red Barron" early on, later "American Pie" and the soundtrack of Grease.

Lisa hated that her mom kept her hair cut so short (even though it was actually pretty stylish for 1973). She used to wear long-sleeved t-shirts on her head like they were her hair, and she chopped off the hair of all her Barbies. "If I can't have long hair, neither can they," she told me.

The first time I went to Lisa's house, she showed me her room, which she swore she shared with her brother. It had a big double bed with a pink-checked bedspread. I kind of doubted her story. So I asked her where her brother was. "At camp," she said. But the sibling was no more real than the jersey-knit hair. Lisa was an only child, although it took a few weeks for my mom to convince me that was true.

The only-child thing worked to my advantage, though, because Lisa's parents used to take me on their two-week vacation to Virginia Beach in the summertime. Man, those are some of my very best childhood memories — we were barefoot and tan and we ran carefree all over the neighborhood of beach houses with Laura & Ann Meade Daniel and another girl named Mary Russell. When we weren't outside wrecking havoc on the other vacationers we were inside our beach house or the Daniel's playing the Grease LP and acting out the singing and dancing. I was always Sandy; Lisa was Danny.

Lisa's parents were very different from mine. We were conservative Mormons and they were rowdy Catholics. At the beach, they would stay up late with their friends drinking and smoking cigarettes. Her dad was gruff and used cuss words that were far more colorful than the occasional "damn" or "hell" I heard at home. The fact that they were so different made me ever-so-slightly uncomfortable, but it was kind of in a good way. I probably began developing my open-minded acceptance of others in those years I hung out at Lisa's house.

At the beach, Lisa & I attended the Children's Sand & Surf Mission (CSSM) which was like two weeks of Vacation Bible School on the beach. We'd sing songs and hear gospel lessons and play games. It was loads of fun. One evening both this little Mormon girl and that little Catholic girl got saved. I'm like Elvis — I don't want to miss out on Heaven on a technicality.

Lisa and I were best friends for more than four year, when my parents moved us from our Virginia suburbs down to the Mississippi Coast. Lisa's mom brought her over to say goodbye when we were packing the moving van. As they drove off, Lisa hung her head out the window and yelled Shaun Cassidy's fan club address to me. That's what kind of friend she always was.

Lisa honey, I could never forget you! I am so blessed on this birthday to have you back in my life...32 years later!

"I need to shop for this."

So I'm making my list of stuff to pack for my upcoming six-day business trip that will include three cities (a mid-Atlantic, a northeastern, and a southeastern), a live performance [not mine, obvs], three national TV shows, three plane rides, one train ride and a cocktail party. This is going to require a very large piece of luggage.

Is four pairs of shoes too many for a six-day trip, do you think?

And I realize that what is missing from my wardrobe this season is leggings and long sweaters (which, for your ease in shopping, are often located under the "Lounge" heading in online stores. Don't ask me I don't make the rules.). And by "missing from my wardrobe," I mean "I need to shop for this."

I totally covet this off-the-shoulder stripey sweater (White House Black Market, $88) if anyone is looking to buy me a birthday present. (Thursday, thanks for asking.)

Perfect for me to wear: to the taping of a hit TBS show.
Perfect for you to wear: out to dinner with your honey.

This hoodie is a little more casual, and affordable (Old Navy, $34.50).

Perfect for me to wear: 0n the Amtrack Acela Express between DC and NYC.
Perfect for you to wear: to your kid's soccer game.

This cardigan looks like it must be the softest, coziest sweater ever in the history of knits (Banana Republic, $125).

Perfect for me to wear: in a cold, lonely hotel room.
Perfect for you to wear: to the cafe for a coffee.

Ann Taylor Loft has some great ones here and here, too, but she's being a bitch and won't let me copy any of her photos.

This banded sweater (Target, $19.99) is really cute, but it's a Junior size, so I'll probably need a XXL.

Perfect for me to wear: to a demo tech rehearsal and kitchen walk-through.
Perfect for you to wear: to have lunch with friends.

Whatever you pair with them, keep in mind the following rules for leggings:
1. Proportion is everything.
Small on bottom -->big on top. Tight on bottom -->loose on top.

2. Tops should come to the top of your thigh.
No one wants to see your privates.

3. Don't be afraid to go up a size.
Numbers don't matter. Looking like a sausage does.

4. Leggings can enlongate if worn correctly.
Dark colors and length to just above the ankle will be the most lengthening.

5. Wear the right shoes.
Ballet flats, pumps or boots of various heights all work. Tennis shoes do not.






Disclaimer: No money, sex, or other favors were exchanged for the coverage of these particular products in this post. However, I will gladly change this disclaimer if any of these stores want to send me sweaters. Or gift cards.

"The next-best thing."

I've become obsessed with finding some original nail colors. For years I've worn light colors in the summer and dark in the winter (I've especially enjoyed the really dark purple-black). Now I'm looking for something different - specifically, I've been searching for a flat, wet-concrete gray and a midnight blue that doesn't have sparkles. You'd be surprised how difficult this is to find, given that they are all over the internet. I'm also anxiously awaiting the winter colors from Essie because I'm dying to wear that mint candy apple.

But girls, what ALWAYS happens when you know what you want but can't seem to find it anywhere? That's right, you buy what you believe will be the next-best thing.

Only it never is, is it?

I bought an OPI color (Moon over Mumbai) yesterday that was the only gray I could find. I thought it would be, if not concrete gray, at least gray flannel, and I went in today to have my nails done.

Now, this will probably come as a surprise to you, but I get my nails done at the salon in Wal Mart. I KNOW!! Here's why: several years ago, when I used to go to a she-she salon, I broke a nail right before an important meeting or business trip or something. So I called my nail girl from the she-she salon and said, "If I come by your house, can you fix my nail?" and she said, "Sure, but I have to tell you my son has mono." Oh-ho! No thank you then. In desperate measures, I went to the nearest salon to have it fixed - and that was the one in Super Wal Mart by my house.

And you know how that old business adage goes: "Speed. Price. Quality: Pick Two." Well my Wal Mart nail salon is the only exception to that rule that I have ever encountered. They work twice as fast and cost half as much as the she-she salon. So I went back. And I've been going to them for years and I've never had a nail break. So sue me. I get my nails done at Wal Mart.

Plus, you can't beat the people-watching while you're drying, right?? The oh-honey-no moments alone are worth the price of admission.

Although, there is a problem with going into Wal Mart on October 31. It's rather hard to tell who's in costume exactly. I'm not sure whether she actually came out in pajama pants, house shoes and rollers or if she somehow thought that would make a fun Halloween costume.

So anyway, I had the Moon over Mumbai applied and it was...not what I expected. It was rather light. And not very opaque. I withheld my judgment until he applied a second coat, because that can make all the difference. But it just didn't come out as I'd hoped at all. It's very pearl-colored. In fact, it's very pearl necklace-colored, if you know what I mean. In fact, I'm taking it off right now.

"Where they remain for weeks."

This weekend, we attack the clothes. Those evil, multiplying clothes. You know the ones - they simply refuse to stay put away in dark drawers or closets and insist instead on slithering out onto the floors where they much prefer to spend their days lounging around out in the light of day.

I kid, of course. The clothes don't actually escape to the floor and every available sitting surface in my home. That's just where we keep them.

It starts one of two ways: Either I have to be out of town over a weekend and so do not get the laundry done on my regular laundry day (Sunday, the day the lord made for laundry), so in a desperate measure for clean clothes, Chip will put a load or two in the washer. They will make it through to the dryer and then into a pile on the sofa. Where they will remain several weeks - if not MONTHS - later.
OR. I will do the laundry on my chosen laundry day - sort, haul*, wash, dry, fold** - allowing my self-righteousness to build up over the entire day, until by evening, I simply refuse to put the clothes away for grown men who are completely capable of putting their own damn clothes away. And you know how this story ends: the clean clothes end up sitting (at least folded this time) on the sofa for weeks...if not months.

I try to occasionally tackle it all but there's so much that it's overwhelming. Especially when you add sheets into the mix. And so, I have declared this Saturday as The Day We Will Take Care of The Clothes. Bag up the stuff that doesn't fit for Goodwill, box up the summer stuff, put away the clean and God help these boys if they try to throw clean clothes back into the laundry (the chosen strategy in this household for not putting clothes away).

Because let's be honest - part of the problem is that we just have too damn many clothes. Way more than we need. And when you've got so many clothes that they spill out into the room and you go for months without ever wearing them, it's time to do some scaling back.

I told Elijah not to plan to go anywhere Saturday morning until it was done. But I started my room tonight so that I can help him tackle his room on Saturday. Then the two of us will make our way down to the illegal alien clothes making their home in my living room. I estimate our house will be three big black garbage bags lighter come Sunday morning.




* Can somebody please explain to me why the washer and dryer can't be UPSTAIRS? You know...WHERE THE LAUNDRY IS??

** I know, I know. I got it so hard. What with the MACHINES to actually do the washing and the drying FOR me. Gone 20 years and I still hear my daddy's voice.

"They're a pain in the ass."

Teenagers. Man.

Even when they're good, they're a pain in the ass.

Cause look, my kid, he's not a bad kid. He doesn't drink or smoke or do drugs. He works pretty hard in school and gets decent grades. He doesn't miss curfew or sneak out at night. So what right do I have to complain, right?

Oh please. You know me better than that.

Geez, HIS ATTITUDE. I ask him to take out the trash and he acts so put out. As if I've expected him to repave the driveway before he can have any supper. Cinderfuckingella, that's who. Cinderelijah.

I text him to remind him to empty the dishwasher before I get home from work but when I get home it's still full of clean dishes and he forgot. He had too much homework. He has zero time management skills and the memory of a flea.

When I get angry because he blows off a chore, I yell, "You're not going anywhere tomorrow!" which to me meant, "You're on restriction for one day for not doing what you're told." but he heard, "Come straight home from school tomorrow but feel free to go out later on with your friends." Sadly, I don't think he was being manipulative. I think he really just doesn't get it. And I swear I'm not being niave. He didn't run off to commit helterskelter; he went to church. He goes every Wednesday. It never occurred to him that I meant he couldn't go.

I'm torn between demanding that he COME HOME IMMEDIATELY YOU ARE ON RESTRICTION GODDAMMIT and asking him to bring me home a milkshake.

"I'm in Connecticut!"

Well look at this...I had to go all the way TO CONNECTICUT to get online. Fucking laptop.

Ahem.

Hi! I'm in Connecticut! It's a business trip so my apologies if I'm within an hours drive of you & did not swing by to say hi. My bosses are doing the Celebrity Chef Sundays at Foxwoods Casino which holy shit! This place is HUUUGE.

We flew up on Saturday morning. This is actually only my second trip with my bosses, the first being to Nashville and not requiring air travel. As the travel is paid for as part of their appearance contract, they fly first class but I am resigned to coach. It's not bad, though, since I check in at 1st class with them, then go through 1st class security and even pre-board with them.
I guess there's not a direct flight from Memphis to Hartford, so we had to go through Detroit. That was super-easy though, since our arrival gate and departure gate were directly across from one another. My flight to Detroit was horrendous, as the flight was full and the man next to me reeked of cigarette smoke and stale alcohol. The flight from Detroit to Hartford was very bumpy, but at least my seat mates were clean-smelling women. Teenagers in the seats behind me were unnecessarily loud so yeah, flying coach still pretty much sucks. I didn't get any photos of pretty leaves from the plane because of the cloud cover. When we landed, it was raining in Hartford. Okay, I suppose I brought the wrong coat then.

A stretch limo picked us up at the airport for the hour's drive to Foxwoods. It was mostly uneventful except for the moment that traffic stopped in both directions on the highway because someone's dog had jumped out of their car and they were running around trying to catch it. (I do hope they were successful.) It was rainy and the limo driver was listening to NPR's "On the Media." I know this because I had listened to the same radio program that morning at 6 a.m. when I left my house.

The VIP escort met us at the casino hotel. She was wearing jeans and flip flops. Also? They said this was an Indian Casino but I've yet to see any Indians here. I'm pretty sure that's false advertising.

We did a walk through at the theater and in the kitchen, then went to dinner where we were treated like royalty with the chef sending out all kinds of appetizers and bottles of wine for the table. That almost makes up for all the people who just walk up to the Celebrity Chefs AND HUG THEM. I'm sorry but I do not want to be famous if it means strange people coming up to me and invading my personal space. That is just so weird. I would never do that. I can't even imagine.

We had a tech rehearsal at 10 a.m. this morning, so I set my phone alarm for 8 to give me plenty of time. Unfortunately, I hadn't noticed that my phone did not reset to Eastern Time. So I got up at 8 a.m. Central Time and began the day running an hour late. Ever the professional, that's me.

At least the sun is out, so I did get some leaves photos. (From the casino window. I haven't actually stepped outside since we arrived.)

And now? I'm about out of time on the computer that I paid $8 to use. So I will bid farewell. Hope your weekend is grand.





PS - People here talk funny.