Sunday, January 25, 2015

SAG Awards Fashion Recap

...and so, let's talk about the fashion. (Because the show was pretty boring.)

Let's start with Most Improved. This goes to Keira Knightley. Here she is in Erdem. I mean, it's a million times better than the Golden Globes. She looks lovely.

Next is Claire Danes wearing Marc Jacobs.

I wanted so badly to like this dress, however, it's a halter and I'm physically unable. The color is lovely on her skin tone and the fit, well, it's perfect. BUT WHAT IS WITH THAT BELT?


And both my mother-in-law and I agree she needs lipstick. And I feel that her eyeliner is far too dramatic.

So here's Melissa Rauch in Rubin Singer. I adore this dress but it was far too long. Like, dragging-on-the-floor long. It didn't work.

But that color combo? Yes.

On to more red/pink dresses. Here's little Maise Williams in the cutest dress ever. I love it. It's age-appropriate and I'd like to wear it...

...but maybe I'm too old?

Edie Falco's gown is far, far too tight.

And today I remember.

My Mom was so cool.

Christmas '89 or '90?

Of the many things I loved about her, ranked rather highly was her creativity.

her brushes

Before pinterest and the DIY-craze, there was my Mom, researching, finding ideas, creating actual  folders filled with DIY ideas -- ripped from magazines. From making a flower trellis to creating organic coat stands out of logs that she found, to making soap, she re-used and up-cycled before it was cool.


And with relatively modest means, she could make a house a home.

Years ago - I believe I was in junior high or high school - she made a "Happy Room". (Her words, not mine.) She ripped up the carpet and painted the floor. She found an old chalkboard -- before everyone was finding old chalkboards -- and she placed it on the wall. She filled the room with all of the things that made her, well... happy: random frames that she loved, color, rugs, pillows, painted furniture, books... And it wasn't a mess, but instead it was a well-used, well-orchestrated, welcoming, light and airy space.

It was so her.

1994? 1995? The early days of the happy room, before it got even happier.

We played many-a-game of scrabble in that room.
I did my homework in that room.
I came home from college and we sat in that room.
We had meals in that room.
We sat together on the little love seat, toe-to-toe, covered in a blanket, reading our respective books.

Still today I remember the way sun would beam through the windows on a cold snowy day... I remember the warmth of that place.

It's those memories that I wrap myself in on days like this.

She was funny. And cute. And intelligent. And kind.


Happy Birthday, Mom.

You made this world, your space, your circle, your daughters better because you were here.
I loved you for uniqueness, your wackiness, your creativity, your ferocity, your resilience and your strength...  and most importantly:

your ability to see beauty and potential in everything and everyone.

I am so glad you were born, Mom.

I love you (and that handsome fella below) to the moon and back. Tell him to give you a hug for me.

my mom and dad - late 70's.


Birthday Posts to my Mom
What I wrote in 2014 - my first year without her.
What I wrote in 2013 - the last one she ever read.

--The Story of Loss. On Losing my Mom.
September 9, 2013  ::  The day I found out ::  Post here.
September 16, 2013  ::  It's One Week today  ::  Post here.

Saturday, January 24, 2015

Happy Birthday to my Baby. Four.Years.Old.

Dear Vivienne,

Today is your birthday. You are now four. Four years old.

How did this happen?

I think you're a little uncomfortable with it, too.

The other night while I was tucking you in, your chin began to quiver and you told me, as a tear ran down your cheek, "I don't want to change my year." (Meaning, I don't want to turn a year older.)

I told you I'd love you even more than I do now when you turn four and you smiled and said, "Ok, then I will."

Vivi Kate, you're just cool.

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

It's the little changes, no?

So in an effort to be more green, I attempt to cancel out some of my consumptive life choices with better ones. (I believe "consumptive" to be a word, but I cannot be sure.)

Enter, my new "paper" towels.

For the past few months, I've reached for these cloth towels instead of the alternative.

Yes, paper towels still have a place in my life (dog vomit), but these are cotton and super absorbent and it seems like it's just better to use them, no?  Now, if you're looking for something to update your pretty kitchen towel need, these ain't em. For some reason, they don't all perfectly match. (Which is fine by me, for the purpose they're serving.)

They're $17.99 on amazon, you get 13 and nope, no one asked me to write this post.

Now if I could only get most of our local restaurants to stop giving take-home food in styrofoam. Oy, Cabo.


Sunday, January 18, 2015

on grief: They're always with us? They're always with us.

After she died, so many people would say to me, "She's always with you."

"Your Mom is always with you."

"You have an angel now."

And I'll be honest, I kind of wanted to scream.

[People who are grieving are not themselves and dare I say, not reasonable. Death and reasonable do not go hand in hand. And no matter what you say to a person grieving, you're risking that it may or may not a.) make them cry or b.) be taken the wrong way. Still, risk it. It's worth it. Acknowledge the loss.]

I remember thinking and feeling, "I don't want her to be 'always with me' theoretically -- I WANT HER TO BE ALIVE. I want to CALL her. I want to SEE her. I want to hear her breathing. I want to hug her again."

Thank you, but no thank you to the angel thing. I'll pass on all of this and stick with with the original.


So here I am today.

And she's always with me.


Our life, just like everyone else's, is filled with chaos and drama and schedules and appointments and coughs and sniffles and crying and tattling and laughing and loving and... well, life.

But over the past year our everyday conversations have changed. Her name is spoken daily. Just the other day Lila said to me, "So what are the things that Nana liked to do?

"Well, she liked to cook."

Lila: "I like to cook!"

"And she loved to eat."

Lila: "I love to eat!"

"And she loved making things... and trying new things."

Lila: [completely satisfied with these statements] "I like to make things and try new things. I'm just like Nana!"

BIG smile on her face.


See? She's always with me.


I was hanging up clothes in my closet the other day and Vivienne said to me, "Remember when you were crying the other day?"

Me: "Yep."

Vivi: "Yes, you were crying because you miss Nana."

Me: "Yep, it's ok to cry -- especially when you miss someone."

Vivi: "Yep, and if you cry again - I will hug you. Ok?"


See? She's always with me.


I was making chili the other day and I opened a can of chili seasoning that she had made and canned for me. I had never opened the mixture of spices until she died. But that day I went ahead and I sprinkled into our dinner something that she had created.

It's in those ways... it's in these ways that she's always with me.


Do I physically feel her presence? No. Not all the time.

But there are moments that I feel so, so close to her. I can't explain it.


I think everyone really was right.

She's always with me.



--The Story of Loss. On Losing my Mom.
September 9, 2013  ::  The day I found out ::  Post here.
September 16, 2013  ::  It's One Week today  ::  Post here.
September 25, 2013  :: The Call  ::  Post here.
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...