Something Blue

I'm getting married.

I almost had an interview. 

I'm training 2 new people to take over my job.

We're looking for a house to buy.

These events fall among the Things I Failed To Anticipate List back when I began this little experiment.  Getting hitched, finding a new job, moving...luckily only 2 of those have major wardrobe requirements.

And I think I've managed to slide past them unscathed, at least where The Rules are concerned.  Well, sort of, and perhaps my karmic punishment for my slight indiscretions is the cancelled interview last week.

Okay, I'll come clean.  When it comes to the dress from Anthro for the actual wedding, I did use gift cards to get it...aaaaand Brendon.  The gift cards got me most of the way there, and then I placed the dress in his hands at the register and just said, "Please."  He forked over the rest of the cash to actually purchase the dress, all with a big grin on his handsome face.  Swoon, I will marry that man!

Then the interview shoes.  Earlier this week, I had an interview suddenly scheduled, and it dawned on me that these purging sessions with my closet have eradicated all semi-sensible black shoes from my life.  The totally sensible ones I still own, which function well in my current all-terrain work environment.  And then I have a few that even my dear grandmother calls "f-me" pumps.  But I didn't want totally sensible shoes in an interview, nor did I want Catwoman's footwear. 

I cursed the Closet Experiment, then remembered I still had that $100 Macy's card!  Yessss!  I was off to the mall Labor Day in search of some awesome black patent leather.  Which is how I ended up with these ridiculously gorgeous Coach heels.  

Seriously, is it not some rite of passage for a young lady to purchase her first pair of Coach shoes?  I kept waiting for music to play or for someone to come on to the intercom at Macy's to "say a few words."  Or maybe I'm just a little emotional in the midst of all these rites of passage I'm tackling these few months.  I mean, trying them on was like listening to harp music. Even the packaging was beautiful.  

The only thing that wasn't perfect was the price: $138.

So here's the thing--the sales lady got the price down to under $100 for me, but that was by opening a Macy's card, standing on my head, and breathing out of just one nostril.  Or something like that.  But it was all contingent on opening this card.  I just don't need any other credit inquiries while we're getting ready to buy a house.  

Argh, why am I doing so many big things at once?  Gotta get the shoes to get a job to afford the house, but can't get the shoes without sacrificing the credit just a smidgeon...and it's all so hard to think about because I'm just freakin' hungry, all because I need to fit in that doggone (yet very pretty) dress to get married!

This is when the harp music stopped.  The sales lady backed away as I'm sure smoke came out of my ears and tears welled up in my eyes, probably for the 57th time this week.  Most everything is an emotional experience these days.  I promise I'm trying to get more sleep and lay off the caffeine.

Wait a minute, wait a minute.  Take a breath.  These are the things that we don't want, that we don't need--stress over silly things.  These are exciting times, not times for anxiety.  One step at a time...

F it.  I bought the shoes, and yes, forked over the extra $38 and taxes.  And yes, then the interview was cancelled for some sort of internal reason at the company (or maybe they sensed the brief blip in my willpower radar and got disappointed, whatever).  And I was disappointed.  

But I did not return the shoes.  And I still had my suit jacket altered, which was looking huge since my days of hardcore working out and living without a tiny dress hanging in my room.  How did that thing ever fit my shoulders?  Was I really such a linebacker?  The sleeves were hanging past my knuckles when I tried it on again!  Mr. Swan actually laughed a little when I tried it on for him, and then he went to work pinning it up and back all over the place.  Now it looks like a proper jacket for a proper adult.

But then I had to address my other alterations issue, the one that's been making me dream about trans fat and super refined sugar every night: the dress that still would not fit as of this past Monday.  I took that tiny dress to my Aunt Sarah and Granny, who looked at me actually in it and determined the stupid zipper was messed up!  "It's not you, Shannon, it's that zipper!" They both declared that there was plenty of room for all of Shannon in it, and then Aunt Sarah worked on the zipper overnight...and now it fits!  

I zipped that sucker all the way up, finally wearing it for real for the first time, and it was just beautiful. No, I did not immediately indulge in a Hostess Cupcake to celebrate, figuring this would certainly be bad luck.  But I did consider it...and ate a carrot instead.  Wahh-waaah.

Now the issue of what sort of undergarments to wear under it.  Straps simply aren't an option, and I don't even want the bumps of a strapless bra under that lovely fabric.  I equipped myself with the following nifty little item: The NuBra. 

Please enoy this item for all that it is, its ridiculous little slogans, its pink packaging, its black-and-white photography a la the 60s.  And please fully appreciate the fact that it is simply a couple of weird little sticky cups to wear in the place of an actual bra.  It's A Softer, Lighter Definition of Freedom.  And apparently it offers the girl on the box a solution for backless fashion. 

Dude, really, if you can buy Freedom and Solutions in a little pink box at Macy's, I think they ought to up the advertising a little.  "People will most definitely come, Ray." 

And that's how I justified the outright purchase of this item: it's not a bra.  It's not even an accessory.  Nay, it's a solution and a freedom. 

And beyond that, it's pretty much just a couple of glorified bandaids. So no, I'm not going to feel bad about this one.  Not unless it just pops off randomly in the middle of a rather important moment with the judge today.  I guess we'll really see how my shopping karma is holding up with this little sticky cuppy thing. 

Thus ends the stress.  I am not going to worry about all these big things that are happening.  No more anxiety about whether I'm prepared or equipped or have the right pair of shoes. 

This is a very exciting time and I intend to fully enjoy every moment of it.  I confess that I've stretched The Rules ever-so-slightly with this wedding/new job stuff, but I don't think I went too far.  I also confess that I've let myself become a bit of the Something Blue that I'm supposed to wear today, and I am officially shrugging that mentality off.  No more blues; I'm excited and happy and grateful and hopeful. 

And I can't wait to report to you just how awesome those Coach beauties and that NuBra are, both in interviews and in the wedding. 

And by the way, I will be reporting it to you as Shannon Kelly Clark.

What Can I Say?

I've been blog-silent, and I have no good excuse.  Especially seeing as a dress is ruling my life at the moment.

Well, no, I don't like that kind of victim mentality.  I am allowing a size 6 to rule my life right now.  I have handed over the reigns to an article of clothing that takes issue with my 6th and 7th ribs, and such a thing deserves discussion on a clothes-related blog.

Fine, so I haven't written because I'm hungry.  I'm eating like a slightly carnivorous rabbit, which ought to make me feel healthy and awesome...and most of the time it does.

But it turns out I'm teetering on the edge of total insanity, because a tiny hiccup in my day sends me into a storm of either anger, tears, or total confusion.  I blame it on EDD (extreme donut deficiency).  There is not much official documentation of this condition, but most people have actually suffered from EDD at some point in their lives.  Later on, when I'm not so busy, I'll start a foundation and have a 5K or something.

But right now, I am all "eye on the prize."  And the prize is this lovely dress, made possible by Anthro Gift Cards given to me by some very sweet friends:

Thanks, Katie and Sarah!

Thanks, Char!

I had wanted this dress ever since the shopping excursion with Mom and Sarabeth a few weeks ago.  Yes, we found The Dress for the wedding reception on that trip, but I also tried this one on and briefly fantasized about wearing it when Brendon and I elope:

Mom and sister were nonplussed at the way the 8 kinda just hung on me, so we abandoned it at the store and I tried to quit thinking about it.

Then the Bachelorette Party happened (and man, did it happen!) What a fun night.  Sister and Buddies really went all out, from decorating my house (those photos unfortunately shouldn't be published on a public site, ha ha...) to bringing over-the-top sweet gifts and taking me out. Sarah and Katie and Char so thoughtfully gave me Anthro Gift Cards, making me suddenly think about that dress in perhaps more flattering size 6.  I did some recon and managed to track it down (these dresses were going fast!  They're not even available anymore).

And after finding it, I didn't mind that it didn't completely zip up.  I mean heck, I had just eaten a whole box of Shipley's as Bachelorette Hangover Breakfast the day before, so of course there was a little extra Shannon, right?

A night like this deserved Shipley's breakfast! Ah, the Prom Face...

And of course it would be easy to slim down over the course of a few weeks...I mean, it's not like I eat a box of donuts every day, right?  Ha ha ha! Ha ha. Ha...

Now here I am.

Imagine the theme music from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly playing as I stare down the dress.  In my hand is a stick of celery instead of a gun, my weapon against its evil zipper.  Carbs?  Never heard of 'em.  Donuts? Not even sure what they are.

The dress cackles at me, makes some comment about how this town ain't big enough for the both of them (reference again to my 6th and 7th ribs).

I take a step closer: Oh yeah? I've got an appointment this Saturday with His Honor Judge Herb Evans, and I intend to take you with me.  Even if I have to hold my breath the entire time.

The dress is quivering in fear.  Oh I'm going to win this one.  And in the meantime, no silly craving for a delicious piece of buttered toast is going to keep me from blogging.  Take that, zipper!

A Non-Wedding Dress

Mom wouldn't have it any other way: I am to wear a new dress at our wedding reception.

It's a reception without a wedding, though.  At least, without a wedding anyone else is going to see.  It's really just a party to celebrate an elopement that will happen...sometime soon...and no way am I going to wear something old and tired to said party.

Well, I'm not arguing!  I am thrilled and delighted that Mom is making me go shopping.  She's been saying for weeks now that she wanted to find something for me to wear, and I in turn have been looking online, avoiding carbs, and doing pilates like crazy in anticipation of a day of trying on lovely dresses.

Come on, don't roll your eyes!  I'm not doing that much shopping anymore, and I wanted to make sure I enjoyed every part of the trying-on!

And wow, I did.  Mom and Sarah were just awesome throughout the whole thing!  We stopped first at Anthro on Westheimer and struck gold.

The little vintage-style number I've been looking at online was even better in real life!  I was sad to see only a 10 and a 4 on the rack, but Sarah grabbed up the littler one and announced, "Shannon, you're squeezing into the 4, don't even touch that 10!"

And squeeze we did.  It took a good 3 people to get me into it, but we did zip that sucker up.  Only to have the attendant tell us there was a 6 in the back.  That one allowed breathing, and I modeled:

We proceeded to have a celebratory drink at PF Changs, where we decided that Fortune was with us, then proceeded to the Galleria.

There I met an old friend.  Who fit perhaps just a little better this time (what can I say, I haven't seen even a crouton for weeks now).

All in all, it was a fabulous day.  I'm so excited to have a lovely little dress from Anthro hanging in my closet now.  All the other clothes look on with respect.  And Mom and Sarah were just so sweet all day long, telling me I looked awesome when even if I popped out of the dressing room with a one-shouldered atrocity (thank you, Nordstrom!)

And they laughed with me when I finally discovered what was wrong with that little beaded thing at French Connection.  I had really thought it might be a contender, something that could oust the cute Anthro dress.  But I couldn't get it on!  It wouldn't pull up past my, well, sizable thighs, but there was all this extra material!  I struggle, squeezed, held my breath...nothing.  Mom and Sarah kept asking for me outside the dressing room.

Frustrated, I pulled it off and stepped out so we could examine it.

Turns out you can't put both your legs in one leg hole of a romper.  Perhaps wine made us less intelligent shoppers :)

Happiness Is...

I read an article last weekend about stuff.  Really, it was about stuff--what you can buy, and how much happiness it will give.  It mentioned something called "hedonic adaptation," the way humans get used to new things in order to maintain a level of comfort in their lives.

Because of this hedonic adaptation, the thrill we get from the things we buy wears off over time.  So we buy more stuff to get that thrill.  

I think all that stuff traps us, even beyond the debt.  No, I'm not saying we should all reduce down to just 100 possessions.  But what if we just started spending our money with long-term satisfaction in mind?  Would we be happier? 

I think the article is correct in saying there's not much instruction out there for how to really spend your money well.  How do we get the most satisfaction out of spending?  I don't think we really make purchases with our eyes wide open; am I really going to be happy pulling that sweater out of all my other dirty clothes and taking it to the cleaners?  Will I be happy going to pick it up, running my debit card to pay for it, checking it to ensure they cleaned it properly?

If I go into debt to have something now, what kind of happiness will it bring me?  Will I ever grumble about that monthly payment?  Am I ever going to regret that monthly payment?

Will I be happy maintaining it when it breaks?  Can I acknowledge that it will run down, run out, or be used up at some point?

I think it's okay to make purchase decisions with these considerations in mind.  I think most of us don't want our lives to be ruled by taking care of our stuff.  We want some leisure, some time with loved ones.  And I think we have some experience in the satisfaction of maintaining the stuff that we never regret buying.  I still enjoy having the oil changed on my Yaris, I still occasionally feel very content at the ability to have arrived at point B from point A without a breakdown or hang-up.

Isn't that a good feeling--to continue to feel really good about spending your money on something?  How often do we really get that feeling?  

I think the article hit it right on the head--that people really can count on lasting satisfaction from spending money on experiences.  Happiness really is doing something, and doing it with folks you love.  It's not just Teotihuacan, or the Alambra, or Pilot Mountain, or the Bellagio.  

Yeah, those were all really cool, but seeing them with family and friends was what made each experience.

What You Get for $11

I sold my clothes at Buffalo Exchange yesterday.

They gave me $11.03 for it all. The leather pants, the Club Monaco belt, the Calvin Klein dress, the orange Aldo pumps...and all the rest of it. Funny, isn't it?

Hilarious, actually. I didn't really care. I didn't even stay to watch the girl go through the box, which I've learned can be embarrassing (who wants to see someone hold up your favorite shirt, then toss it over their shoulder to the pile for GoodWill?)

But it wasn't really about avoiding embarrassment. I would have been happy to stand there and watch, taking whatever fashion judgement that girl with purple hair and an excess of sequins chose to throw at me.

Is this growth? Maturity, set in after 7.5 months of retail abstinence?

Maybe. Anyway, I went across the street instead to see Kelly, who was at the Grace Heart & Company, working her monthly Saturday.

Folks were setting up all down the street for the White Linen Night in the Heights, some fun local festival that involved the production of a lot of music and kettlecorn (at least at that point in the afternoon).

I went inside to see Kelly, purveyor of the little box of paper goods that had really brought me down there in the first place--the wedding party invites. And wow, they are awesome. That girl did a ridiculously good job. (And my sister, too!) The final product is just perfect.

I know, this is a lot of back story for a trip to Buffalo. But I'm not stopping. There will be a purpose.

Kelly's mom was just leaving the shop as I was arriving, and it was just...great to see her. Beautiful, healthy, and energetic, she threw me a huge smile, squealed over my engagement ring, and struck a bit of a pose when I complimented her new haircut. She looked better than I'd ever seen her.

Then Kelly showed me a little corner of the shop displaying some particularly fun antique beer paraphernalia. Everything was clearly very lovingly displayed...old Coors signs and bottle openers and beer taps that had for years been hidden away in dusty boxes, all now out in the open for people to admire and buy.

I complimented her work, telling her how cool it was to see everything displayed so well. She just smiled and quietly said, "Yeah, it would have made him really happy."

Then we just gabbed for a few minutes in the back of the shop, watching couples, old ladies, and young kids wander the shop. A few people stopped to look at some of the beer steins, and it was back to work for Kelly and out the door for me.

The street was beginning to fill, the music getting louder, and the light getting really cool as it does in Houston when there's a distant summer thunderstorm at 5pm. I didn't stay for the party, and it didn't matter. I was going home lighter, having unloaded that big box of clothes that I don't think I'll ever miss.

I got to bring home a smaller box anyway, full of the result of a lot of hard work by some very talented people in my life.

And that hour in the antique store was almost like something scripted, maybe even poetic: a backdrop to highlight the kinds of changes, both tragic and beautiful, that can happen in life. Illness, death, acceptance, healing...there's so much to endure and experience. Life really does just keep moving forward. And I had the opportunity to really appreciate it yesterday while giggling with a good buddy in the back of an antique shop in The Heights.

So guess what, Buffalo Exchange? You could have had those clothes for nothing. I got more than what I came for.

Buried Treasure

So I came across a new pair of jeans. Well, new to me. They've been hiding in the closet of the spare room ever since we moved to Spring--oh my gosh, almost 3 years ago!

There was a little more Shannon back then, so these jeans did not fit at all when I got them (I believe another gift from Aunt Maggie). But for some reason I wanted to keep them, so they were shoved into the back of the closet.

Why do we do this? Is it a hopeful thing? We dream of one day fitting into something, so we keep it? How much clothing do we keep in our closets that we don't actually wear?

Anyway, I came across them in my recent cleaning binge, and they did fit. Quite nicely. In fact, they were a bit loose, super comfy, and didn't drag on the ground around my ankle at all (perfect for a job where I find myself walking over mud and gravel half the time).

Coupled with another gift of Kelly's, the shirt I altered at the last minute with a pair of scissors.

I think I had some secret inspiration from my friend, Meg, whose blog I recently stumbled across again. This post was just so sweet! Total serendipity.

Anyway, the ruffles on the front of this tank were huge; they made me look like a busty peacock. So I just took the scissors to them and really trimmed them down before I walked out the door...and I think it was an improvement!

Enough!

Bleh.

Ya, basta.

I've had enough of willpower and lessons and The High Road. At least for today.

That little moment of seduction yesterday? When I thought about exchanging my clothes at Buffalo for some new (to me) fashion?

And then I got all mature and decided to donate it...well scrap that. All of that. I'm taking it to Buffalo and selling it. And taking that money with us on our honeymoon to Buenos Aires.

Right now I'm just a little weary, a little cranky, and in no mood to search for the meaning behind donating a pair of leather pants that I had altered and wore while running through sub-freezing sprinklers.

I don't really feel like ascertaining the meaning behind giving away 4 lovely cocktail dresses of various shades of awesomeness.

I want to stamp my foot and behave childishly. Perhaps lessons can't be learned everyday. I'm saving Aesop for tomorrow and selling my stuff for cold, hard cash.