Fashion at (Almost) Any Price

And a good Monday to you, people of the internet. It was a busy and productive day today, including (but not limited to!) starting the second week of marathon training and going into the office to work on syllabi for fall semester. The thing I want to talk about, however, is not anything so studious or workmanlike or athletic as all that. Oh no. I want to talk about shopping! Yes, I have moved on to retail therapy.

This weekend I was in Atlanta with my friends Brunbec (who lives here) and Deebeecooper, who just moved to Atlanta for a new job. We spent a bit of time exploring her new neighborhood and shopping around. There are loads of great restaurants, bars and shops — the more I visit her this year the less money I will have, but I so don’t care!

H&M is a favorite place of mine to shop when in the city for cute things at cheap prices, but it tends to be hit or miss. Sometimes I could easily drop hundreds of dollars in there, but this time there was nothing. Instead, I found myself drooling over things I couldn’t really afford at Banana Republic and Madewell. It was lucky for everyone, my bank account especially, that we didn’t find ourselves in Anthropologie, because I feel like I could really spend an obscene amount of money in there right now.

To ease my pain at not being able to spend too much money on new clothes (I am a teacher, you know; we barely make anything), I decided to check out a secondhand clothing store here in town this afternoon. It’s one of those targeted at the young whippersnappers — they can sell their old clothes and buy new/used things on the cheap, but the stock is vetted far more carefully than that in a typical thrift store and costs predictably more. You know the type of place? I had this fantasy that I would go in and be able to find some kind of fancy-schmancy designer jeans in my size at some ridiculously low price. And you know what? Spoiler alert: I DID!

They had racks and racks of jeans throughout the store, but the “designer” jeans were off on their own special rack, in a place of honor far away from the types of brands I can usually afford. Did I dare investigate? Of course. These were used designer jeans and thus in no way intimidating. After trying on a few pairs from a few different brands, I found a pair of Seven for All Mankind jeans that fit like they were made just for me. The previous owner had even had them hemmed at my exact inseam length!

Sidenote: I swear to DOG, what is up with the inseams on women’s jeans? How tall do they expect us to be? I am 5’9″ and jeans are usually anywhere from 2-4″ too long for me. I do think I have a longer torso and shorter legs, but still. I am pretty tall. What does the 5’5″ woman do? Or the 5’2″ woman? It is ridiculous.

Side sidenote: On the subject of sizing, how is it possible that I wear three different sizes in three different brands? This type of inconsistency is something I have long ago come to expect in clothing, but that makes it no less frustrating. If anyone is wondering, in my experience, Joe’s jeans run the biggest, Seven seems consistent with what I expected my size to be, and Citizens of Humanity run pretty small. Does that ring true for anyone else?

Back to the point. I bought the jeans, at approximately 1/7 of what they would cost new at a department store, and at about 1/4 of what they would cost at discount designer sites like bluefly.com or ideeli.com. Shopping victory!

Here’s the thing, though: as much cool stuff as they have in that store, and as low as the prices are, one cannot forget the fact that most of the stock (if not all) comes straight out of the undergrads’ closets. The next pair of jeans I buy there might at this very moment be in a pile of dirty laundry on the floor of a sorority girl’s closet. Or perhaps their hems are being dragged across a dirty barroom floor.

Or worse.

Look, let’s just not think of this sordid truth. Let’s imagine that every girl who sells her old clothing there is a fastidious fashionista who takes meticulous care of her things, only selling them to make room for yet more current and edgy pieces. She never washes dry-clean-only items; never spills food or drink on herself; never lets her cat sleep in the laundry basket. That’s probably true, right?

What do you think about second hand clothes? Would you buy your (real or hypothetical) students’ cast-off items?

Therapy in Many Forms

Exercise is nature’s anti-depressant. You’ve heard it before, from such annoying loudmouths as Tom Cruise, for example, but it really is true. Running is the most energizing and uplifting and mentally clarifying thing I know how to do. So yesterday I headed out as the sun was setting, trying to escape the worst of the heat, for a quick run through the neighborhood.

Yeah, it didn’t exactly have the soothing and therapeutic effect I was hoping for. About a half mile into it, I somehow managed to trip over my own feet or the sidewalk or my own sense of self importance or SOMETHING, I don’t KNOW what, and I went skidding down the sidewalk a couple of feet. There were cars and people all around (I was right in front of the post office) and no one stopped to see if I was OK. I imagine they were all too busy snickering to themselves in their cars to bother. Hey, it’s funny when someone falls down, I admit.

So I had cuts all over my hands and road rash on both legs. I managed to bang up one knee pretty thoroughly as well — what looked like this yesterday

has now blossomed into a gorgeous purple bruise and red lacerations. So colorful!

The other leg is also quite disgusting today.

Last night I did my best to clean things up but I had no gauze or bandages or anything big enough, so I would up going to sleep with two Always pantyliners taped, upside-down, to the worst part of it. To any men reading, I apologize for having just mentioned a feminine hygiene product, but, you know what? Those things came in pretty damn handy!

This morning I made it to the store to get some proper supplies and I think I have bandaged it all up fairly well. It is pretty ugly though, I’m not gonna lie.

So this week sure doesn’t seem to be going my way, does it? It’s kind of interesting to have highly visible and disgusting outward physical manifestation of what my emotions feel like on the inside, though. Both have a nasty raw hamburger quality to them. I am going to appease myself by imagining that once the scrapes on my legs and hands heal up, it will mean the insides are back to normal, too.

But running as therapy did not exactly work out yesterday (I’ll try again tomorrow for the first long run of my marathon training — more on that later). I have also been trying whiskey as therapy, which is usually pretty fine (if not glorious and excellent!) at the time but the effects seem to be diminished by the next day’s hangover. I went with cooking as therapy today. I’ve been having a low appetite and feeling kind of sick to my stomach the past few days, which partly has to be because of too much drinking but is partly because of stress and whatnot. I need to make sure I am actually eating a healthy diet, though, so I decided to make a huge vat of butternut squash soup today.

I had a bunch of small butternuts left over from the CSA — you can keep these for a while — so I knew I could go to town and just make a big, delicious batch.

I basically just use this recipe from Epicurious – it’s so simple and it turns out really, really well.

I blend everything in small batches in my blender and it gets nice and silky smooth. I’d like to buy an immersion blender (Clarabella and Philly have one of these and I saw it in action this past weekend – it rules) but this works for now.

One of the best parts of the soup is this roasted garlic and red pepper puree that you make as a garnish. It adds a nice intensity of rich flavor and some spice.

The original recipe doesn’t call to roast the garlic, but I prefer that flavor, so that’s a change I made.

That’s a bit of fresh thyme on top. Delicious!

So tell me — what are your favorite comfort foods or “therapeutic” activities when you are feeling bruised and battered by life? I may need more to try here.

Watermelon Weekend Recap

This past weekend I was in Mississippi visiting my dear friend Clarabella, which was a great way to wind down after the chaos of the last busy week of summer term. It was a local festival in her town, which hosts the 5K race we were participating in. There were also a ton of activities, food (including tons of local watermelon), a classic car show, and so on. We made the most of the weekend.

The race was Saturday morning at the ungodly (late) hour of 8:00 AM, at which point it was already blazing hot, yet the morning air still retained its dewy humidity. Perfect conditions for a race. We carried our own water bottles for the purpose of being able to dump water over our own heads any time we wanted. Our friend LitChick was running in the race too — it was her very first one! — so we all met up downtown to register and people-watch as everyone got ready to race.

Once the race started we each ran separately, so I didn’t see the girls until the finish line, where the angelic race officials were handing out water, watermelon slices, and icy-cold wet towels. Let me tell you, that cold wet towel was probably the best thing anyone has ever given me. We all survived the race and the hot temperatures (I set a new personal record of 26:38, of which I am perhaps disproportionately proud), and were ready to reward our awesome athletic prowess for the rest of the day.

After indulging in a delicious brunch, we took The Boy (C’s too-cute-to-be-believed three-year-old son) down to the festival area to look at the cars. If you want to amuse this kid, just let him run around looking at all kinds of cars — pure joy (and dirt!).

I was into the Fairlanes and Studebakers in pretty colors, but The Boy does not discriminate when it comes to enjoying a fine automobile. Classic or historical status? Not an issue! His favorite was this Jeep, parked nearby:

We also checked out some of the merchants, but didn’t wind up buying anything. These giant colorful armadillos were pretty cool, though:

Later: a decadent sushi lunch with wine and a brief nap and then it was watermelon cocktail time!

Ice, de-seeded watermelon, vodka, and triple sec.

Blend.

Serve in an adorable green tumbler, preferably a huge one, so as to fit more hooch into each portion.

Take out to the back deck and relax.

You now have the makings of a perfect summer evening! Stay up all night so as not to waste a single moment.

The next day we rested on our athletic laurels and hung around being delightfully lazy and gluttonous. Clarabella makes this amazing guacamole:

It was like a bowl of green heaven right there, and perfect with chips and refried beans.

All in all, it was a delightful weekend! I’ve got another fun one lined up next: I’ll be in Atlanta helping a friend move into her new apartment — can’t wait to see her! — and maybe doing a little window shopping and more relaxing. I hope to get as much vacation in as possible before the new semester starts. Here’s to that.

Thank You

You already know this if you follow me on Twitter but for those who don’t, well, the guy friend and I have parted ways. Which all happened in a grueling three-hour conversation last night, during which time I became progressively more drunk and more irked. I am not proud of everything I said, but I am proud of the fact that for once in my (relationship) life I stood up for myself and what I want and deserve from my partner. And he wasn’t able to meet me there, so, he’s out. I don’t want to share details any further than that, but let’s say it really wasn’t pretty.

On that note, I am blasting Ani Difranco’s Not a Pretty Girl as I type this, thanks to my girl Clarabella. She posted the most perfect song, “Asking too Much,” for me on her Tumblr today after I declared it to be Ani Difranco Time until further notice, which reminded me I hadn’t listened to that album in far too long. Oh, you didn’t know I was a Righteous Babe? You should have guessed.

Check out the lyrics to this song because they pretty much spell it all out — the themes if not the actual events — and I’d rather have you read or listen to Ani’s version than have to clumsily explain everything that went wrong myself. As I said earlier today, it is the smallest of small satisfactions that I called it before it happened, but I’ll take it. I saw this one coming and had appropriately steeled myself.

The only thing I forgot was to stock my kitchen with booze, my medicine cabinet with Advil, and my fridge with Diet Coke. Thus, I had to venture out to our weekly pub trivia tonight for boozy reinforcements. In case the guy showed up I was armed with 4″ heels that make me an imposing 6’1″, which is a whopping 9″ taller than he is. I may be petty but at least I am not small.

(I am also not proud of that low blow, but what do you want from me when the metaphorical bruises are this fresh? At any rate, a low blow is the only kind that would hit its mark.)

But I don’t want to talk about any of this, least of all that he did in fact show up tonight in spite of the fact that these people were my friends first and I have fucking DIBS goddammit.

Here’s what I do want to talk about: You. You people. I drunkenly posted about my hurt feelings on Twitter late last night and right away my night-owl friends were chiming in with messages of support and friendship. This morning when I woke up with a hangover and a migraine and a sadness, I had tweets, DMs, emails, and texts from friends all around — many of whom I know in person, but many others are blog and Twitter friends I have never even met in person. It always amazes me how the community of friends you can make through writing online can turn out to give so much support and kindness and love and good humor just when you need it most.

So thank you for letting me know you have my back and making me laugh (or cry sweet/happy tears) and generally shoring me up when I am feeling shitty.

Thank you.

I have written before about how hard it is to put myself out there emotionally and to connect with people, but the thing is that it has never been hard for me to do that in writing. That’s why I have this website. I can put it here. I can be honest and ugly and vulnerable when I am writing and I suppose there is some risk inherent in that (someone might be offended or hurt by what I write; people I work with might see me in a less-than-professional light; there might be some as-yet-unimagined consequence to writing about my life publicly), but the risk in this case is worth it.

I put it here and you read it. Maybe you identify with me; maybe you advise me; maybe you laugh with me; maybe you are entertained. Usually you understand and you are kind and receptive and clever and funny about it and I so, so appreciate this.

Accepting the risk of being vulnerable in personal/dating relationships is a lot fucking harder for me. But you know, I tried. I tried really hard and it wasn’t good enough but I am not done trying.

Miscellany

I am sitting in my classroom right now proctoring the final exam for my summer course. The end is in sight! This might seem like an inappropriate time and place to be composing a blog post, but I’m afraid it might be the only chance I get to write anything before I take off for the weekend.

After this exam I’ve got to finish all my end-of-term grading and reporting, deal with a few (?) recalcitrant late assignments, and run approximately forty-seven various errands. But now! Now I just sit, and watch, and wait.

And blog, apparently.

So this weekend I am heading off to Mississippi to visit Clarabella. We are going to be running a 5K and then celebrating afterwards with watermelon-based frozen drinks of some kind. Even if you don’t like to run, wouldn’t you do a 5K for the promise of a watermelon-based frozen cocktail? I bet you would. If you do like to run, well, that is just even better.

I am very much looking forward to the chance to get out of town for a little while and decompress after a summer of teaching intensive courses. When you unceremoniously stuff a semester’s worth of literature (almost four thousand years of texts!) into five weeks, everyone starts going a little bit insane — not just me. I don’t know how the students manage to keep up with it either. We are all ready for a break.

On another subject, I have been loving having my little basil plant in the front window so much that I decided it needed a few friends. Last weekend I went down to this amazing nursery in town and picked out a few succulents to join it in the window. I have had succulents before and have managed not to kill them, so I hope these guys will stick around for a while.

I got a jade plant (my favorite),

an elephant bush (hilarious name),

and an aloe plant (very useful for a klutz like me who is always accidentally burning herself in the kitchen).

Also to be spotted occasionally in my windowsill:

A surly feline, who occasionally has been putting some effort into pretending to be nice. We’ll see if it’s just an act, or what.

Well, I hope you each have a lovely weekend in store. May I suggest a watermelon-based frozen cocktail? If that’s not available, something else, perhaps? As long as it is decadent and relaxing.