"What to wear?" Wednesday

"Mom, you really like to take pictures of yourself, don't you?", he said with a smile.

"Yeah, I guess I do. I guess your Mom's crazy that way." I replied, with a smile back.

This blogging addiction has made me do a lot of things I wouldn't have thought I would do in a million years.

I haven't put up a Fashion Friday post in a while. Not much posting about anything, truth be told. There's a lot of stuff happening lately, my head is spinning and my stomach is doing flip flops as I re-examine my life, my goals and how they fit in with my precious family. Emotions have run high and low. Pretty serious stuff.

It's time to do something completely frivolous again.

This time, however, there's an actual goal to this posting of my wardrobe. What to wear to BlogHer? It didn't seem that important to me at first, but the stakes are higher now. (And if you're sick of reading about BlogHer, please feel free to plug your ears, sing "la-la-la" and look away - that's what I did last year. I'm trying to keep these posts to a minimum but I'm just too freakin' excited to completely shut up about it.)

It appears that fashion guru Tim Gunn of Project Runway fame, will be in attendance at BlogHer 09, next week. And as I read about the various fashion dilemmas floating around the blogosphere, I noted that I myself, have no idea what I will be donning for the three day whirlwind. I'm going to check out his appearance, and if I'm lucky, might get a one-on-one session with him.

I guess the grunge, "I borrowed my 16 year old daughter's Ed Hardy Tee" look probably won't work, especially since I don't even have a 16 year old daughter. (Get this: my son says that my new hair cut is pretty and reminds him of Demi Lovato; so perhaps I am trying a mite too hard):



But I hear that butterflies are all the rage this year. I am contemplating this outfit, and because my husband hates this dress, it's probably better that he's not accompanying me to Chicago. And never say never to leggings, even though I did and lived to blog about it:


Or maybe another boho look (no, I'm not pregnant, but where the heck were these clothes when I was?):


And finally, I think I will pack this little mini number:

With another LBD under consideration.

Decisions, decisions.

In all seriousness, I'm not too stressed about this. After all, I'm not attending as part of my business; sure, I'll be there to learn a little about this whole blogging explosion, but my mission is to finally meet and have good times with some people who have become friends. To be a part of this blogging community, in real life. And perhaps make new friendships along the way. Two hundred of them if I'm lucky, as I don't want to be stuck with a whole buncha Mini Moo.

I'll be trying my darnedest to be just: Me.

In cute shoes, of course.

Soggy Saturday Morning and posting about hawt

There you go, SEO types, what a perfect title.

Well, people don't read blogs on Saturdays anyway.

First of all, thanks to all my beloved bloggy peeps for your words of encouragement. I actually spruced up my C.V., attached it to my e:mail and hit "send" to my friend the Head Hunter (let's call him, H.H; I know the term these days is "recruiter" but, the girlie's been watching Madagascar 2 about 25 times non-stop in the last couple of days, and that resounding tribal beat, you know... and besides, I'm old, so we'll use H.H.)

As I was saying in my previous post, about my lack of walking-in-heels-prowess... I met with H.H. this past week. I think I'd mentioned that I've "known" him for over 10 years, actually contacted him wayyyyyy back when I was trying to break into the field. He didn't have any jobs for me then, but he had some great advice. And after I did eventually get into industry, I would chat with him from time to time about hiring etc. But I've never met him face to face. And never really thought about what he might look like.

I remember in my last job, I was working with our HR manager and she asked me if I had ever met H.H. And I said, no, I hadn't. She suggested I should, because uh, he was pretty good looking. He was actually a gymnast when he was younger. I was surprised, we laughed about it a bit, because whenever I've talked with him the image in my mind has been of a science geeky type, as his voice is a little squeaky. I don't know how else to describe it.

Since I've been home with the kids, he's followed up with me from time to time. And I've contemplated finally meeting him, just for coffee etc, as suggested by my husband. After all, it's always good to keep your foot at least partway through the door, and this fellow's quite connected. If I ever want to launch back in, this is a good guy to know.

I got to his office, parked in the concrete jungle and couldn't figure out which entrance was the right one...hence my poor toesies, as I did a bit more walking than I had intended. Finally finding the building and floor, I popped into the washroom, as I always do before meeting, just to check on the face shine, for any last minute stuff between the teeth etc... I wasn't really nervous because it wasn't an interview. Just a chat to find out about an opportunity, and to finally meet in person. Still, it felt weird to be in a corporate environment again.

I walked out into the hall, just as this fellow was stepping out of the men's washroom, and he looked at me and said, "Karen?" just as I uttered "H.H.?".... while sucking in my breath and totally not believing how incredibly fine he was, and OMG, he was wearing a great casual outfit, blue long sleeve fitted -tee with khaki pants, and yes, he looks like he was indeed a gymnast... stop salivating, Karen!

All kidding (well, not entirely) aside, we had a great meeting, talking about my career, what I wanted in my work life, what opportunities he had... the usual stuff. I was there for over an hour, but had to leave to get the kids. Yes, the kids, yeah, them ;). Yes, married with kids. Well, both of us, very happily at that.

We'll see where this all goes (the job thing, I mean) but it felt good to be talking about work again, my accomplishments, and not so much about being a Mom. I love being a Mom, but there's the other part of me that's taken a back seat. I said as much to him, that I don't want all the years of education, training, experience, my skill set and the career that I built to be wasted after working so hard for it. And I remain conflicted.

I got home and here's my little e:mail exchange with the husband:

Me: "BTW, met with H.H. today. He's quite hawt. Hurry home."

Hubs: "See-i toLd you it would be worthwhile mtg him."

Me: "You know, if we weren't already married, I'd sooooo have an internet affair with you ;). "

We're demented, I know.

Happy weekend!

Are you smarter than a kindergartener?

I'd forgotten that a four year old has the capacity to talk non-stop. From the time that the girlie wakes up in the morning, until her head hits the pillow at bedtime, the verbal onslaught is relentless.

The boy was certainly chatty enough at this age; but the girlie takes it to a whole new level. When the L-boy used to verbalize each and every thought that happened to pop into his head, he would still be content even that we let him unravel a soliloquy, with the occasional head nod, or "yes", "really?", "well, that's very special"... to acknowledge that at least our subconscious was still following him. After all, who can respond to each and every single question that comes out of a kindergartener's mouth?

Well, in the world according to the girl, her parents are supposed to. If we just nod an "um-hmmm", she'll yell, "Hey, you weren't listening to me! Listen to my words!"

But there are some glimpses of brilliance hidden amongst the verbal diarrhea. And I'm not just saying that because I'm her mother.

The other day she asked us,"Mommy and Daddy, where was I before I was born?"

Now we initially thought this was an open invitation to launch into the sex talk, but at 4, we thought it a bit premature. We were at a loss, and then before we uttered anything, she pretty much answered it for herself. She was talking spiritually. As in, "Was I with the other babies in heaven, waiting to be born? Like where Gong-Gong is?" Wow. Silent mutual stares of "help" between the parents seemed to have saved the day.

And then yesterday, I inadvertently (well, because it was right on the road being run over by the half a dozen cars in front of me ) ran over an already flattened road pizza formerly known as skunk. As we drove over it, and I sucked in my breath (wishing I knew how to kiss my teeth), bracing myself for the stink that would now envelope the van, my girlie asked what was the matter.

So I told her that I had run over a skunk, and that I wished I had been able to avoid the poor thing. But that it was already dead when I ran over it.

And she asked me this:

"Mommy, why don't they just make sidewalks for animals? Then they can walk on their own sidewalk in a line, and people will know not to run over them. And maybe they can put up a sign to show drivers that there are skunks and other animals on that sidewalk."

Good point. Never mind about the details of having to train the animals to stay on their side of the road. But the sign is a grand idea - look at this:


(image from stock.exchange)

At least skunks have legs.

And my son's response when I told him I ran over a skunk? He checked out the tires to see if there were any skunk guts adorning them. No such luck. Boys.


But the best one yet?

As I ran the kids out of the house this morning to drop them to their camps, decked out in my "interview" suit to meet the headhunter (more on that later), the girl looked at me and said,

"Oh, I like your outfit mommy. I like your necklace. You look like you are going to talk at the front of a meeting. You know, the lady who talks to all the people when they come to a meeting, you look like her!"

"Well, Mommy did do something like that before I had you and stayed home. Do you think that might be what you want to be when you grow up, sweetie?"

"You had to stay home to take care of me and Goh-Goh, right Mommy? So we don't get hurt (guilting already!!), right? I can be that lady when I grow up, but only when you're a Grandma."

And then she took one look at my shoes and said, "Oh, but be very careful Mommy. You don't know how to wear heels."

And she was brilliantly right.

My feet are KILLING me.

Wordless Wednesday - Sweet

Type A much?

I contemplated accompanying hubs on his most recent trip for business. I initially jumped all over it because he actually asked if I wanted to go (the opportunity doesn't come that often because of all the work he's got to do, and he's not always comfortable with the optics. But I take my lead from him).

But with BlogHer coming up, and our family vacay ... and the fact that I didn't think the kids would appreciate spending the week doing workbooks at Grandma's (she runs a really tight curriculum, especially during summer holidays)... I thought better of it.

And the hubs is apparently relieved with my decision too.

I got the following message this morning, letting me know that after having to switch planes he finally got there:

"Arrived safely-waiting in a ridiculously long customs line.....its times like these I am glad you aren't here :) not bc I don't love you but I don't miss a play by play account on the delay..."

Know me much?