And Away We Go

In less than a week I will be in Washington D.C.

I have never been to our nation's capital and I'm demmed excited. You might not know this about me, but I'm one whimpy arsed patriot. I never get all the way through the National Anthem at a ballgame because I start cryin' like a wee bairn. So the thought of being in D.C., only blocks from the Capitol, wandering around a place rife with history and meaning, well, it gets Mama just a little bit varklempt.

But that's not all.

Sure. It's just freakin' swell that I get to go to a conference with my peers to exchange information and knowledge and all that hooha. It's dandy that I get to spend time touring the monuments and sites of DC, reveling in all that is gloriously Americana.

But it turns out, I got peeps. Peeps in da 'hood. So, for example, on Sunday I'm hooking up with Anne to go to church and maybe if I'm lucky Mom will be there, too. Then later in the week I'm having dinner with my darling-cousin-who-I've-never-met-but-who-I'm-purty-sure-I'm-related-to Doralong. And if all that tweren't enough, I'm also hooking up with my college room-mate, Shelley, who I last saw before I met The Spouse. (She's an opera singer and her husband conducts the Navy band or some such thing).

Now all I have to do is:

get everything on my desk at work under control so that I can

prepare the FREAKIN' notes for the discussion I'm leading on website development and then

figure out what to wear on the day that requires me to participate in a scavenger hunt at the Smithsonian before attending a meeting in a Senator's office with no time between events to go to the hotel and change

which will happen around the same time I buy a bustier to fit under the superfantastic dress I'm wearing to the fancy arsed dinner the last night of the conference (in a joint that used to host the likes of, uh, George Washington and Thomas "Freakin'"Jefferson).

I do have a new superfantastic bit of luggage on wheels that doesn't remotely look like all the other (black) bags that will be on the carousel at baggage claim. (And don't even start. Mommy has to check her bag. WAY too many costume changes in one week for a carry-on). I'm going to start packing it tomorrow.

Partay

Today is a very important day. Today the VA Puget Sound Fisher House celebrates the first anniversary of opening. It also marks one year of working with the best boss a girl could possibly have.

Since we opened, the house has served over 700 families. 10% of those have been active duty. We have experienced joy and sorrow, some frustrations, a lot (A LOT) of laughter and some really good food. (I weighed less when I started this job, just saying).

I still can't always quite believe that every day I get to go to work and do something meaningful, something that contributes so profoundly to others. I can't always quite believe that I get to work in such a beautiful place, with such a wonderful team of people. I can't always quite believe that I have a boss who values my input, trusts my abilities and is always letting me explore new ways to make a contribution to the house. (And who also just cracks me up on a daily basis).

Want an example of how cool she is (besides the whole insisting-I-come-in-late-on-Friday-so-I-can-write-my-Project-Runway-recap thing?) We've had some guys stay in the house who used to be in show business. One of them, among his other credits, used to do the choreography for Bob Hope's shows. MAB used to take tap lessons so the boys wanted to get her back in her shoes. The last time they stayed we had some lessons. It all came back for MAB, of course. She put on her tippy tap shoes and went to town. I required more work, since all I ever learned was step-ball-change and that only on my right foot. By the time they checked out I had learned to do step-ball-change on my left foot, was working on step-shuffle-change AND, perhaps most importantly, learned how to do a jazz square. We promised the boys that we'd practice and be ready for them when they came back in October. Which we've been doing.

So on Tuesday I came to work and MAB had a present for me. She handed me a pretty gift bag, glee in her eyes, and I opened up the bag to find....wait for it....tap shoes. She's seen them at a garage sale and frantically called The Child to find out what shoe size I wore. Happily, they were the right size.

So now we both have tap shoes. And now we're working on a routine, sort of a "typical day at the office" in tap dancing.

Ever have a boss who did stuff like that?

Me either. And I've had some pretty great bosses.

So there it is. I am blessed beyond measure. And I get to wear a party dress to work.

Oops! My Bad.

Doralong asked about my ensemble last night. Silly me. Hat and I were going to photograph what we wear while watching "Project Runway". Why? We don't know. Except that it is something of an occasion for us and we dress for occasions. But as I mentioned, I'd fallen asleep earlier in the evening and so I went to The Neighbor's wearing what I'd worn all day.


Black tulip skirt with a sheer black shirt, red cardi that I stole from The Neighbor a long time ago (which she keeps forgetting to ask me to return even though I wear it blatantly in front of her) and a sweet little scarf that Neighb brought me from Europe.

I also wore these sweet little flats, because they are comfy and sweet.

Designers, Gather 'Round....

If you've already been by Hat's this morning you know that she and I love "Project Runway" and are, with the possible addition of Monica and Anne, going to play a little game wherein every Wednesday night we dress up to watch the show, taking care to document the ensemble photographically and posting said pictures with our reviews the next day. I'm giving it 2 weeks.

Now you've been warned that this post is all about the agony and ecstasy that is "Project Runway" so if you're looking for sturdier fare best to be moving along now.

I also have to make sure to not read Hat's posts until I'd written my own because a) it makes it harder to be original because I have to try and avoid repeating what she said and 2) it will be way more fun if we do say the same things without knowing it and then we can laffity laff about it over coffee later.

Hat did refer to the "hot Israeli guy", name of Rami, who won the first competition. I second her hotness nomination but would caution her that his last name, Kashou, is pronounced "cashew" and if she marries him it will be really awkward.

Hat and Tim Gunn Theatre

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Hat Kashou."

"Bless you, Hat. I'm Tim Gunn, your long lost uncle. But I didn't catch the last name."

"Kashou."

"Bless you. Seriously, you're last name..."

"I said, it's 'Kashou.'"

"Goodness! Bless you again, darling; here's the perfectly pressed, monogrammed handkerchief I always carry for such a circumstance. Now, about your name..."

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Here's my picture. I was wearing a terrific little ensemble: grey windowpane plaid tulip skirt, cashmere turtleneck, knee high black boots. All you get is this, though.

There's only one crappy picture because someone who shall go nameless (but lives next door and whose nickname rhymes with "babe") totally forgot that last night was the premiere and went out to dinner. Are. You. Kidding. Me? Anyway, I had hoped for her help with the "fashion shoot" but what the hey hey. If Hat has to take her own pictures then so do I. I'll do better next week.

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First of all, the main reason to watch this show, imho, is Tim Gunn. Why do I love him so on PR and never make time anymore to watch the actual show he has on Bravo where he's on screen way more? Because his own show on Bravo stinks. He doesn't stink, mind you. In fact, I'm fairly certain he smells faintly of bay rhum. But it is a show that simply hasn't held my interest. His sidekick is thoroughly annoying and their relationship bears none of the wit, banter or obvious affection that is shared between Stacy and Clinton on "What Not to Wear"...with which "Guide to Style" is intended to compete. 'Cept it doesn't. Stacy and Clinton have No. Thing. to worry about. Where was I?

Tim Gunn. I adore him. I try really hard to impersonate him. It's harder than you think. I want to politely but warmly shake his hand and invite him to join me for a snifter of brandy in the library. (He's not the kind of guy you'd squench up in a sloppy hug and take for beer). He is simply the best thing about the show...a position borne out by the stupid text message contest thing that Bravo always does during their reality shows. (I hate that, btw).

Who I hate on PR? Michael Kors. He's really bitchy and worse than that, he thinks he's funny. He's so not.

Heidi Klum was looking superfantastic as always. I was a little annoyed that her first meeting with the designers was shot almost entirely with the camera behind her, up and at an angle. "All the better to see all the designers, my dear," says you.

"All the better to show us that her butt, tightly swathed in black, is fierce and this after having had her 3rd or 4th Seal pup", says me. But really. That simply was not kind. To any viewer with body image issues, I mean. It was obviously superfantastic for Heidi.

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First challenge: using obscenely gorgeous fabrics, design something that will tell us who you are as a designer.

This is only the first week so of course this is going to change but I'd have to say that my favorite designers thus far are Carmen (funny, tough, used to be a model herself), Kit (little bit of punk sensibility, without the apparent ego of Jeffrey and if you watch PR you know what I mean), Jillian, because I liked her dress and also because she totally reminds me of that actress who's name I can never remember but who I really like and always have to look up on IMDb before I remember. See?





Jillian, the designer







Sofia Milos, the actress

Twins separated at birth, people.

I also like Kevin, who's a dreamboat.

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Most people watch PR for the crazy fashion. Me, I always end up judging clothes by what I myself would wear. I also always root for the nicest people. Which is why I've only ever once been pleased with the winner (Chloe...season 2). That's also why my favorite dresses were this one, by Christian:



















And this number by Steven:



















I don't like Christian much, though. He's a pissy little dude and ever so impressed with himself. Look to him for some major bitchiness this season. Steven is his polar opposite, quiet and unassuming. He will be flying under the radar with consistently beautiful things. I suspect he won't actually win a challenge until later in the season. But he's super talented. I also like him because he's from Chicago.

Other notable designers, for one reason or another:

Sweet P, who is the most likely to either become one of my absolute favorite personalities or make me drive my Harley off a cliff.

Victorya, most likely to stick a stiletto in someone's back.

Ricky, most likely to break down and blubber during a judging.

Rami, the future Mr. Hat (bless you), with this little number:



















As you can see, it is a perfectly lovely dress, crafted in grey silk gorgette. My biggest issue with it, frankly, was that his model is, shall we say, endowed. Endowed girls shouldn't go braless. (No, Sling, they really shouldn't). There was an undulation factor on the runway that was unfortunate. The girls shouldn't compete with the fashion, know what I'm saying? But still, he won and that's fine because he's clearly talented.

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So let's talk about the losers. The first to go was a sweet, classy little thing named Simone Le Blanc (seriously), who made a not thoroughly horrible dress but the construction was abysmal. And I say that as someone who can't sew a lick. But it was really dreadful and the worst thing was that when asked to explain she said she got into a "time issue". Really? Honey, there were 15 other designers under the exact same time constraints as your sweet self and they all managed to finish their seams. Not to mention that most of them did much more ambitious things than you did (here's all the dresses...Simone's is the second one on the bottom row).

Not horrible, but still. Delivering the technical goods within time constraints is exactly the point of the competition. If she couldn't do it in week one, when she wasn't constrained by the limits of the challenge (make a day dress out of lettuce) then she was bound for a fall sooner rather than later. But she's cute as a button and I'll bet if she has other people sewing for her she'll make a fine designer without winning on PR. So bon chance, Simone.

Then there was Elisa. Elisa, who came second closest to being "auf'ed". Oh. My. Yord. What a freak. And I'm pretty sure the only reason she survived the cut (with a dress that, as Heidi said, "looked like it was pooing fabric") is because the producers are looking for her to provide a lot more interesting footage than sweet, sensible Simone. You can be a crappy designer and stay around a while, if you're nutty enough. And trust, Elisa is. She's a whack-O. A hippy dippy who "dyed" some of the expensive fabric by crushing it into the grass of Bryant Park. A nutjob who described her dress as having " a haiku of a cut". The sort of gal whose patchouli stench comes through the TV screen. The government should stop waterboarding prisoners and just leave them alone in a room with Elisa for 5 minutes. That'd win the war on terror.

All in all, a perfectly fine premiere episode of Season 4. Looking forward to next Wednesday. (Got that, Neighb? Wednesday. 10pm. Sheesh).

A Matter of Complete Insignificance

First of all, I just hope all of my many readers (1) in Minnesota were safely home or at the Twins game last night. Yikes.

We have a completely scary, aging structure in Seattle, called the Viaduct. We also have a city council whose idea of leadership is to commission a study to look into the viability of the recommendations proposed by the last sub-committee relative to the efficacy of holding public hearings as to recommending a non-binding vote to determine the practicality of appropriating funds to hire an investigative team of engineers to review the recommendations of the sub-committee. Which means that we have this completely scary, aging structure in Seattle, called the Viaduct.

I have come to the conclusion that the unspoken but decided policy of our "leaders" is to just wait until the bloody thing falls in the next earthquake and hope the feds give us money for the clean-up. I guarantee you that the bridge collapse in Minneapolis is going to result in a renewed flurry of newspaper articles and radio discussions about what to do about the Viaduct. And that nothing will be done.

For what it's worth, I also have a policy of voting for whoever is running against the incumbent in council elections. The Seattle City Council is one of the most frustratingly ineffective governing bodies in America. In fact, someone should give them t shirts to that effect. I'll get on that.

But hey! You didn't come here for a scathing (though brilliantly insightful) look into local politics. No. You came here to find out what I've been up to lately. And let me tell you, it couldn't possibly be more frivolous.

Yesterday The Child and I went to Meg's for lunch and a swim. It was awesome. Then we poked around in some groovy little shops. And I found a handbag. But not just any handbag. I have been looking for a bag this size and this shape for over a year. I wanted one in black but this is even better.

I know. Gorgeous, right? (Oh, the photo doesn't even do it justice but trust, it is gor-ge-ous). And even better? It was on sale. Major sale. Like, it cost me $20. I know. Pinch me.

Then we went to Stina's for a little more moving-in-organization. This time it was her "dressing room". Which meant I pretty much came away with my fall wardrobe. "Take this, it's so you", she'd say, tossing me yet another pair of shoes or what-not. Love that.

See? Told you today's post was a matter of complete insignificance. I may be shallow, but I'm honest.

Now I must away because I have 412,000 pounds of used school uniforms to sort out before delivering them to said school for a sale this weekend, gardens to weed, a menu to plan, food posts to write and assorted bits of research to do, all while attempting to siphon Harry Potter and "High School Musical" trivia from The Child's head so she can start working on a book report.

Oh, and we must stay near The Dog because the Blue Angels will be dive bombing our house momentarily and he does not like that.

The Great Kicky Skirt Search of '07

To begin with, I was limited by virtue of possessing a Gap gift card and not wanting to spend any actual money because, you know, we're going on a trip.

I was also limited by the fact that the Gap has really cute clothes but after one passes the age of, oh, say, 35, one must be extremely careful of "cute". I'm all for hip and groovy but looking like a teeny-bopper when you're not is just sad.

Which is why I didn't get a skirt because everything was over the knee. And while I have great gams, nothing I tried on did anything to flatter them.

But they were having a big sale so I tried on about 412 tops. And then I played it safe and got a basic black cardigan and a nice black tank with buttons. Then I found a blouse in the most drop dead shade of blue. Which is a good color for me because of my eyes, but not something I have a lot of in my wardrobe. (Stacy and Clinton would so push me into blue colorways).


I tried it on.


It was fabulous.


Except I'd have to lose a rib to zip it all the way.


So I asked if they had it in a 10. And they didn't. Not in the blue. But there was one in black. And it looked superfantastic. I bought it. Even though I have a ton of black in my wardrobe.

Ok, so it looks lame on the hanger. But trust me, it's tres adorable on moi. Nice little empire thing going on, then floats away from the body, which is a good thing when one expects to gain 5 pounds eating one's way through Chicago.

Then I did my 97¢ bit for AIDS research. Because I expect to be admi(red) in my kicky new top.

I handed over my gift card and only had to pony up an extra $14 dollars. Meanwhile, The Child came up from the girls department with a bagful of pink: a cute tankini, a halter and a darling purse.

And $2.37 in change.

The kid can shop.

Now let's all get back to work.

This Morning I Did the Tango. With a Chicken. Who Wore a Tuxedo.

The Parent Association is hosting an Easter dance and chili cook-off on Saturday. One of my comrades on the board has a chicken suit, for reasons he's never fully explained, and has become our de facto mascot. Whenever we need to promote something we slap him into the chicken suit and make him do stuff. This morning I dressed in my highest heels and a glittering evening dress, donned my superfantastic chandelier earrings (the ones The Neighbor gave me for my birthday last year) and drove The Child to school, looking every inch a czarina.

Monday morning starts with a prayer service, during which announcements for the week are made. So the chicken and I arranged with The Principal for some promo time. She introduced some "special guests" and Chicken Man and I did the tango from the back of the room to the microphone. Laughter ensued. I don't know why.

Chicken Man and I have a new motto: Join the Parent Club Board: lose your dignity, support your school.

Now I'm still all dressed up, because I had to make the rounds in Blogtopia and figured y'all deserved a little dose of extra glamour on this cloudy Monday morning. But I have to change now because I am not going to be able to mop the kitchen or weed the garden looking this fine.

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Yesterday was the 10th anniversary of buying our house. Totally forgot to celebrate.

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The Spouse changed my email address for me this weekend. For the second time in a week. I was loathe to give up my very clever and entertaining email handle but could no longer bear getting 412 spam messages a day. I don't need any pharmecueticals. If I was going to refinance my house, it wouldn't be from a cold call email. Also, I have absolutely no use whatsover for a penile enhancement. It was just time to shut down Babbington K. Squidly, the International RX and all the other little spambots.

It was very nice, consequently, to wake up to a virtually empty inbox.

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The Child and I were watching The Food Network Awards last night (I know, I know...it's like that scene in "Annie Hall" where Woody Allen raves about LA saying "They do nothing but give out awards. I can't believe it. Greatest Fascist Dictator - Adolf Hitler!") Anyway, Catherine Zeta-Jones has a new movie coming out, a remake of the terrific film "Mostly Martha". Which didn't need to be remade, btw, but since it's a foreign film I guess it was fair game. Anyhoo, it looks yummy. I like movies about food.

Best Costume Design

I simply must share this with you. It is uncannily reminiscent of my own daily life.