I didn’t mean to write a third blog post in a row about fashion, but the death of an icon inspired me.
I am not a fashionista by any stretch (see my last post if you need confirmation), but I do love me some clothes. And with Gloria Vanderbilt’s death brought back a strong memory of mine.
My first pair of designer jeans were Gloria Vanderbilt. I vividly remember the day they were purchased: I was at Cartan’s with my mom (does Cartan’s even exist anymore? It was a store that carried things for kids and babies from birth until teen, from cribs to clothes.) I somehow convinced her that I should have the pricey jeans, and I was in awe of the GV triangle logo stamped on my butt.
I agonized on when to wear them. I was torn on wearing them right away or waiting. My “maturity” won out: I chose to wait until Friday. That way, my jeans would be a lasting memory for whoever thought of me over the weekend (is there anything more self-centered than a young teenage girl?).
In hindsight (sorry), no one was looking at my butt. But I treasured the thought that they might. I was realizing the power of fashion, not just to influence others, but, more importantly, to influence the way I felt about myself. As I have matured, I have learned to let that feeling guide my shopping: how do I feel in this outfit? I remember about 10 years ago taking girlfriends with me to buy a gala gown. I ended up getting the dress they liked on me rather than the one that made me feel glamorous and strong and sexy. I still think of that dress as a “one that got away.” When I see that other one in the closet I feel conflicted. I am sure I won’t wear it again.
Gloria Vanderbilt was, of course, way more than a name on a butt. A few years back I read a terrific book about her, written by her son, Anderson Cooper (for my review, go to https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/26072609-the-rainbow-comes-and-goes). I had heard the phrase poor little rich girl but really didn’t understand it until I read this book. I’d recommend it — it’s a glimpse behind the heavy oak doors of the uber-rich and how money certainly does not guarantee happiness.
But those jeans, and the way they made me feel? That was money well spent on something that made me feel happy — grown up, special, middle-school sexy (as sexy as a flat as a board 12-year-old can feel with braces and badly feathered hair). I like to think that Gloria Vanderbilt, who experienced such dramatic highs and lows over her lifetime, ended up on a high. She was having a renaissance, valued as a talented painter and quite fun to follow on Instagram. And, as a mom, probably quite happy to be known as “Anderson Mom.”
I’ll always remember her as the gal who got me started on the dark and twisted path to fashion.
My Fashion is Going to the Dogs
I lied: here’s another fashion post of sorts.
But this one is short and sweet — like me (stop choking on your cocktail, those who know me best).
As you may know, I am passionately involved in one of the biggest rescue organizations in the Midwest, Secondhand Hounds (https://secondhandhounds.org/). Besides fostering, working events and other activities, I am in charge of our Puppy Party division. A while back, Facebook shopper-stalked me and suggested I might like checking out a pair of shoes. I did. I liked them. I bought them.
I wear them to every puppy party, and get so many compliments!
Then I saw these online: 
Fun and practical! I love when it is wet enough to pull them off with style (which was a lot this spring!).
Then a friend shared a link with me for more dog shoes. That led to another link. And another…
Now I have 5 pairs of “dog shoes.”
I have a problem.
Last year I surprised myself by getting my ears double pierced. Consequently, I have been shopping for itty bitty earrings. Naturally, that led to these:
I refuse to catalog all the t-shirts, hoodies, tank tops, sweat pants and sweatshirts I have that are somehow dog-related.
I know I am not the only one with a theme-skewed wardrobe. What’s lurking in your closet?
My kind of Camping
It’s been a few weeks since the annual Met Ball, and I am just about ready to digest the looks. This post will be picture heavy — because, frankly, even my scintillating prose can’t do these looks justice. It’s hard for me to be critical when the whole point is to be outlandish and stand out in a wild, wild way. so I’ll present the evening in categories, and you can make of it what you will (I will, of course, HAVE to make some commentary along the way. Because girl: these looks require reaction like Anna Wintour requires bangs and botox.
Every year the Met Ball, a huge fundraiser for the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC, has a theme, and stars and designers and the generally too wealthy have fun with it. It’s like my annual Halloween Spooktacular, but with a waaay bigger budget. This year’s theme was camp. What is camp, exactly? According to Wikipedia, “Camp is an aesthetic style and sensibility that regards something as appealing because of its bad taste and ironic value.” So basically, it’s tacky made cool.
Here are some of the outfits that I personally felt embodied “camp” the best:
A particular fave probably surprises you, because it seems so bland. But Lena Waithe and Kerby Jean-Raymond are so cool. The pinstripes on their suits were the lyrics from Diana Ross’s “I’m Coming Out” and Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.” And you had to love the shout out on the back to all the drag queens who basically invented camp and live it every day!
In some instances, it was the accessories that made the outfit:
Some themes were simple.
“Bad Prom”
“I forgot my pants”
“I remembered my pants”
Disney Princesses and Villains:
Instead of a theme, per se, some folks chose to focus on color.
Pretty (sometimes) in Pink:
It ain’t easy being green:
Ladies in Red:
Brighter than the sun yellow:
Why wear just one color? Taste the rainbow!
Another three genres sort of overlapped. First, you had the metallic gals, those who sometimes looked disco-ball glamorous, and sometimes reminded me of what my husband wraps up in after completing a marathon.
Then there were the warrior princesses, making bad-ass fashion either kick butt or smell like it:
And finally, in the Star Trek guest star category:
Some outfits were just plain pretty:
And some were just simply costumes:
Now we musn’t forget the couples, some of who doubled down on the fabulosity:
And as I have mentioned in other “fashion” posts, men have stepped up their game! Some focused the attention above the belt:
While others were power bottoms:
And some were just well suited, whether they be subdued…
…or shiny:
Some went big pimpin:
Some wanted to make a statement:
And some were flam-blam-glam!
Then there are the gender benders, who reveled in the opportunity to be stylishly fluid:
But let’s be honest: one guest OWNED the event. Dear readers, I give you Lady Gaga:
After the event, the party continued. Here are some of my fave after-party looks:
In case you were wondering, Gucci made the most of the Met Gala outfits at 25, with Ferragamo and Luis Vuitton tied for 2nd at 14. Rounding ot the top five were Thom Brown (12) and Versace (11).
Bradon Maxwell “only” did four. But they were all for Lady Gaga, so he wins.
And so did we!
I think this is the end of fashion posts for a while, simply because the stars are off until the awards seasons kick off again.
Whatever will I find to talk about???
Soaking up the Island Life
On our last full day, I left the schedule wide open. We slept in ( as much as we could. I seem to be waking up around 630am anymore, no matter where I am or how late I stayed up the night before), ate a leisurely breakfast, and hung at the beach and pool.
We also got to hang with our favorite new critter friends: lots of lizards and Freddy, the neighbor dog we thought was a stray, but wasn’t.
Captured a few moments of Drummer Boy and Singer Girl:
HWSNBN took it upon himself to go snorkeling — way too far out for my liking. The bay we were on was sandy smooth and clear, which was great for wading and splashing, but not good for marine life sightings. So he swam out — and disappeared. After 45 minutes of having no idea where he was, I asked folks at the neighboring villa if they had seen him when they were out swimming and canoeing. Nope. So one of teh guys took a boat back out and found him; I could see them talking from teh beach, and can only imagine the conversation:
“Hey there!”
“Um, hi..”
“Dude, your wife is stressing.”
“Why?”
“She can’t see you. I think you better get back. You might be in trouble, man.”
“Crap, ok…”
So he came back. I gave him the stink eye, explained calmly that if the kids or I had done that he would have lost his ever-loving mind. He agreed, kind of sheepishly. I gave him another look, then left to get ready for dinner.
Men.
That night we went out to an amazing restaurant — Scotchies in Falmouth (http://scotchies.restaurantsnapshot.com/). As we all wondered what to have, the waitress just took away the menus and said. “I’ll take care of you, mon.” And she did. Jerk chicken and pork, sausage, ribs, steak, and sides. Our fave new food in Jamaica had to be festival, a kind of semi-sweet dense doughy breadstick. Incredible! And the margaritas at Scotchies were amazing as well! We sat outside and it was very pretty — thanks to Andrew for suggesting it!
After dinner, it was time for our last adventure: swimming at Glistening Waters, one of only 4 bioluminescent bays in the world (http://www.glisteningwaters.com/luminous-lagoon-tour/). Once again, Andrew hooked us up: we were the last ones there for the night, so went out in a boat solo and got to swim. The waters glow when they are disturbed, so we treaded (trod?) water with wild abandon to make the magic happen!
The bay was bath water warm, and if you ever go heed the call for water shoes because that is some squishy stuff on the bottom (don’t ask, don’t tell). But what a fun last adventure!
well, not quite the last one!
When we got back to the house, we resumed a marathon activity that Sailor Boy had been planning for us: a game of Dungeons and Dragons. For weeks leading up to the trip, he helped the D and D virgins (me, HWSNBN and Singer Girl) create characters, and gave us YouTube videos to watch. It didn’t help. I spent my teen years avoiding this game, sure that it would ruin my social standing if I played the “game of nerds.” Well, having happily raised a proud nerd, it was inevitable that I would have to come to the dark side eventually. We played the game over a span of three days and nights — and ultimately had to speed through the end or we would still be there at the table, me baffled at what I was supposed to do. My son was in his element, and we were all bonding with wild abandon.
It was awful.
It was awesome.
I’d do it all again tomorrow!
Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls
On day three we donned water shoes and hiked through the Jamaican jungle to climb up — and jump off of — waterfalls.
I had originally planned to visit the famous Dunn’s River Falls, but Andrew reassured me that the Blue Hole area was actually more enjoyable, according to the other folks he had driven around. Again, Andrew did not steer us wrong!
There were little falls and big ones. Tiny shallow pools and great big deep ones. Lots of blue water and green foliage. It was beautiful, and it was so fun! We actually got some great pictures, too! I don’t usually buy the CDs that the professional photographers hawk, but these were worth it!
After all our time in teh ocean, the fresh water was incredibly refreshing and rejuvenating. As tourist attractions go, it was about as far from American as you could get: pot brownies sold at stands as you climbed, Rastafarians selling Red Stripe beer out of coolers, and very few safety rules.
always be wary of what’s happening behind you…
The last jump was the biggie: about a 40 foot drop!
After that (and after we had to reinsert Drummer Boy’s arm shoulder back into its socket), we did a short zip line into a pond!
All in all, a stellar experience!
That evening, back at the villa, Chappie, the house caretaker, made a bonfire on the beach!
HWSNBN couldn’t resist helping: 
A great ending to a great day!
Yee-haw!
I have never made a formal bucket list (note to self: good blog topic), but I already know some of the things on it, and am working my way through it. Last year, I danced on teh Champs Elysees for my birthday. This summer I will go skydiving. And last week, I rode a horse on a beach!
When I broached the subject with the Jamaica-bound crew only Singer Girl was an immediate and emphatic yes vote. The others came and to the idea (except for one. He chose to sleep in and hang out poolside at the villa. Not a bad choice!).
The rest of us hopped in the car with driver Andrew and headed to Braco Stables (http://bracostables.com.jm/). 
After donning the requisite headgear, we saddled up!
Soon we wandering fields and beaches, passing abandoned drug airstrips and banana trees, enjoying the flowers and the wildlife. Occasionally our horses had minds of their own — especially mine, who wanted to keep nibbling the tall grass as we passed. We all secretly hoped we’d get a chance to pick up speed, but the guides really frowned on that. Every now and then I’d hear Drummer Boy call out “Yah!” to his horse. I think he may have had the most fun of all of us!
Then it was time to get in the water (after a beer break, of course!)
Then we hopped back on the horses and rode back.
What a glorious day! So many laughs, and such huge smiles on everyone’s faces! And the scenery! Whatever could we do the next day to top it?
Under the Sea
As we were planning the trip, I gave the crew a list of adventure options. Some were universal yeses, some were met with a “no thanks” and some were in the middle. We started the trip strong, with a unanimous choice: scuba diving.
HWSNBN and I have been certified for decades (took our classes in a YMCA swimming pool in Fargo in the dead of winter), and Sailor Boy and Singer Girl have gone twice before, in Hawaii and Puerto Rico. But since they aren’t certified, they were required to do a “how to” crash course along with scuba virgins Drummer Boy and Mojo Jojo. Andrew brought us to Garfield Diving in Ocho Rios (http://garfielddiving.com/) and we all suited up. HWSNBN and I went out for a dive while they took classes, meeting up with three other divers from Germany.
Every time we dive, I know I am going to get a wee bit panicky at first. The human body is not supposed to breathe underwater, and, as an overthinker, I always have to work through that first time. But once I start to swim a bit, I get distracted by the beauty and wonder of the underwater world.
When the kids were done and ready, our boat met up with theirs. We dove in and waited at the bottom for the rest of the group. A couple came right down, but two took a while, as one was experiencing the same panic I get. The dive master from Garfield was patient and understanding and helped him through his nerves, and soon we were all swimming with the fishes!
As always, I am humbled when I am under water. The vastness, the sense of peace and beauty and wonder — all combine to make me slow down, relax, and enjoy the moment. I did see a lot of dying coral, which was heart-wrenching. It is hard to see the environment failing because we have failed it. Before we went down, our dive master told us to be on teh lookout for lionfish, an invasive species dangerous to fish and humans. They prey on baby fish and are contributing to the destruction of the reef. During our dives, we found (and he killed — that was hard to watch but necessary) four of them.
Once killed, he trimmed them of their dangerous spikes and fed them to sea anemones, so the circle of life was fulfilled!
Here is a slide show of some of the amazing sea life we experienced:
As always, we came away knowing we HAD to do this again — and my kids are determined to be certified! After diving, it was time for some grubbing, so Andrew drove us to Olympic runner and Jamaican legend Usain Bolt’s restaurant (https://tracksandrecords.com/) where we replenished our stores, then headed back to the villa, reminiscing about today, and looking forward to the next adventure!
My familia
Jamaica, Mon
The last time our family took a vacation — all four of us — was in 2015, when Sailor Boy was a senior in high school. We spent spring break in Puerto Rico that time, knowing that in a few obtsh he would belong to the US Navy and we didn’t know when we’d get him again. Here are a few pics from taht trip:
Flash forward 4 years and here we are. Last week the four of us, plus Singer Girl’s BF Drummer Boy, and Sailor Boy’s bestie, Mojo Jojo, went to Jamaica. We all needed this trip, for various reasons. As a family, we needed to reconnect. HWSNBN had just lost his wonderful father the week before. I had spent much of the last 4 months recovering from my ice fall and helping my mom through an epic battle with the kidney stone to end all kidney stones (3 inches long it was, and after 6 procedures we think it’s gone). The four young ‘uns were knee deep in school, either starting a new semester or heading into finals. And 7 of us had just survived a Minnesota winter for teh ages. So we were DUE.
I booked a house in a community called Bengal Beach, in Trelawny Parish, Jamaica. We were about an hour east of Montego Bay, and 40 minutes west of Ocho Rios. I thought about staying in a big hotel in a big city — but I didn’t want to lose my kids to swim up bars and nightclubs. Plus, I know from traveling experience that communal space is key to good family time. So the house was perfect –especially since it had a staff of 3 to keep the party humming (ie: I didn’t have to cook or clean. Halle-freaking-lujiah.). I also booked a driver named Andrew at the suggestion of the VRBO owner. We all agreed he MADE the trip! He was making great suggestions for us from teh minute we got in the van on the way to the villa!
Here are a few pics from the house!
If you’d like to learn more about the Seahorse Villa, go to https://www.vrbo.com/824324?arrival=2019-08-26&departure=2019-08-30&adultsCount=6.
As you’ll see in the upcoming blog posts (and probably have discerned from previous ones), I don’t find sitting still day in and day out very fun. I realized this time that while some folks like coming back from vacation refreshed. Personally, I want to feel invigorated. Don’t get me wrong: sitting in teh sun with a good book is way up there for me on the happy scale (and my book on this vacation was The Velveteen Daughter, by Laurel Davis Huber. So good!). But I can sit on the couch anywhere. When I travel, I want to do it all! In this trip, we did a lot, as you will see!
A Cuppa Me
Every morning, before I let the dog out, I turn on the coffee maker. I do it without thinking (which is good, because I often need that cup to kickstart the synapses). My first decision each day? Which cup do I want to use?
This is important because it can set the tone. Now, up until about 5 months ago, I was a little sad each time I opened that cabinet, as none of the mugs were mine. I mean, I picked out the matchy-matchy Crate and Barrel set, so yeah, that’s mine. But those mugs aren’t ME. They are EVERYONE.
I was jealous, as people were always giving my husband mugs — including me. But I mentioned in passing to my mom once that I no one had ever given me a mug. So at our holiday bunco party, she won this, and gave it to me:
When I put it away, I realized I did have a few mugs that were mine, but not because of my personality. This first one was for my husband and I, as a holiday gift from the School of Rock, where our kids learned music for 10 years:
And this one was a “thank you” for volunteering in the school district:
This next one is super special. It’s a gift from my sister in law when our sons joined the armed forces the same year:
I heart that mug. But it wasn’t just for me. It was for HWSNBN as well. Some other mugs of his:
That one was a gift from Singer Girl. This next one was a gift from our foreign exchange student from Denmark:
I gave him this next one:
I have no idea what this one is about, but it is clearly NOT mine: 
When Sailor Boy was deployed to the Persian Gulf, Singer Girl had one gift request: something from Caribou coffee in Dubai:
Well then my mom gave me this one, and I adore it:
Seriously the coolest. I LOVE that she thought of me when she found it.
On a funny note, this is my most recent gift, from my friend Kristy:
So true. I am.
And you may remember this one, that I purchased on my own:
That mug makes me peaceful and happy and reminds me every time of our whirlwind escape to Amsterdam in December. I pick that one when I am not feeling particularly rushed or overtired or stressed.
I know this post seems pedestrian. But life is made of moments, and frankly, it’s the everyday moments that provide most of life’s crazy quilt. It’s funny how every time I look at that wine-themed mug from bunco, I will think of my mom, and how she listened to me and remembered what I said and it was important to her. She didn’t pay a dime for it, but it’s a treasure to me.
So next time you are bleary-eyed in the morning, running on autopilot, take a sec and think about the mugs in your life. Pause. Breathe. Remember the connections. And if there are no memories in there, maybe you should start some of your own. If there are, I’d love to see your favorite mug in the comments, and what it means to you!
Buy the Dress
I’m a member of a popular Facebook Group called Grown and Flown. Ostensibly it’s for parents whose kids are in the high-school-college-just beyond age group. The topics covered are too diverse to count, and can focus on all sorts of highs and lows, most pertaining to the drama of young adulthood. Some posts are braggy, some are heartbreaking. Most of the time people are looking for help, such as advice on how to pay for college, what to do when your child’s heart is broken after that first big romance ends, or how to deal with kids driving you nuts.
The other day someone posted something that had been discussed before (frankly, most topics get re-introduced regularly. Reminds me of how similar we all really are). This topic: “What’s a reasonable amount to spend for a prom dress? We are not trying to create entitled attitude but do want to make this special for her.”
Now any time anyone asks a question on social media the answers are gonna range from helpful to hurtful. This was no different. This was my response:
“No one can tell you that! It’s up to you… To me, it’s not about the money. It’s about the memory of THAT MOMENT…don’t do what you can’t afford. But do what feels right. I leave practical for grocery shopping and doing housework.”
Recently I was reintroduced to the high-stress world of prom dress shopping. I thought that those days were behind me (I also thought my days of wondering what school my kid would attend were over as well, but that’s another post). However: Drummer Boy is a high school senior, and he and Singer Girl are still going strong, even after a year of separation (sort of — they saw each other every month, lol).
So it’s prom time again. Which means, of course, shopping again. She wants it to be special but was torn, because she knows last year we spent a lot, and she wants to be practical. It’s not her prom. And wouldn’t it be nice to get something she can wear twice?
I totally understood where she was coming from. And I appreciated it. So when we ventured out, we tried to be fiscally responsible and cognizant of her desire not to look like she was in high school still. She had a look in mind, but we couldn’t find it. Then we started broadening the search parameters and kept venturing away from re-wearable and back. Then we danced towards glitzy and pricey, then retreated.
Anxiety was building. I tried to keep an even facade and let her lead the way. But she was stressed, and the whole time we shopped, I was battling the inner demons of wanting to give her everything and wanting to pull back. After a while, I realized that even though she didn’t want us to go overboard, I was prepared to do so. Why?
Because every day I hear of a family that will never again see their daughter dress up in a beautiful gown. Or of a mother who can’t be there when her daughter shops for her wedding dress. Or a father who won’t be there to be uncomfortable when he sees a young man look at his daughter in awe.
I’m not morbid. But life sometimes sucks. And it’s effing unfair. And shit happens.
Last week we lost a friend. I wasn’t super close with him or his wife, but close enough that we always stopped when we saw each other in the schools or gravitated towards each other at work functions. My husband worked with him and was close to Mark, and the loss gutted him. An amazing man, gone too soon (only 62). Bigger than life — and now, suddenly, gone.
I tried to put myself in his wife’s position, shocked and stunned and overwhelmed. All those plans: gone. All the dreams that would go unrealized. What would it be like, to not be able to do another date night? To quarrel over the kids’ choices? To laugh at the foster dogs and their antics?
Time is short, and memories are precious. I’m not saying anyone should do anything that will truly be a burden for their family. If it’s a choice between paying your bills or buying the fancy, expensive, never-to-be-worn again dress, don’t buy the dress.
But.
If I can afford to spoil my kids, I am going to. If it’s not a financial hardship for my husband and me to take a trip, we’re going now — and not waiting for someday. If I don’t have to choose between groceries and the overpriced glass of chardonnay from a winery a friend raved about, I’m buying it (but I might not share).
When it came time to choose the prom dress, we actually went home with 6 options and we had a voting party with Drummer Boy and HWSNBN. Silly? Maybe. But it’s a memory for all four of us now. Someday Singer Girl could become Mrs. Drummer Boy. Who knows? And someday, when people are reminiscing, this story might be laughed about in a moment of sadness and loss.
Ultimately she picked the first dress she tried on — a respectably priced one. But she actually really loved another outfit as well. It was a jumpsuit, and not really right for prom. But she loved the way it made her feel (and frankly, when an outfit makes you feel good, you should buy it. Period.), so we kept it as well. So yeah, we weren’t totally practical.
But that day was well spent. We didn’t fight. We had fun. What could’ve been a stress-filled trip ended up being a happy one. Maybe when she wears that jumpsuit, she’ll remember that day and smile. I don’t get enough days with my kids anymore, so I want to treasure what I get. And I think they get that.
There’s a funny meme going around, that reminds you to think about what you wear carefully because if you die that will be your ghost outfit. Silly, yes. But it also reminds me: be careful how you end every conversation or experience with someone. If they never see you again, that will be their last memory of you. At our friend’s funeral, one of the sons said that losing their dad suddenly wasn’t as bad because they always knew where they stood with him. He never let them wonder if they were loved.
Goals.
Buy the dress.
A little Ado About Everything 