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.

It Happens Every Spring

I honestly don't know what brings it on. The weather doesn't even have to be particularly spring-like, which at cloudy and 40 degrees, it certainly isn't.

It's like a sickness. Certainly that's how The Spouse would describe it. Worst of all, it looks like I've passed it on to The Child.

It comes from a place so deep in my bones that it's like I was born with it. It's like my blue eyes or my great gams (that's for you, JP). To change it would take radical steps to change it. Like surgery.

Maybe it's genetic, maybe it is something spiritual. Maybe it comes from some very ancient place so far back in the mists of time that it can't even be named.

All I know is, the gland is secreting and I'm going to move stuff around.

I'm sorry, honey.