You have got to be kidding me.
I stopped dead in my tracks before turning to face a beanie clad wannabe surf kid - and with the most withering glare and dead pan tone responded, "You can.not be serious (each word drawn out and spoken slowly). Pause. Stare. Silence.Glare. I live here you moron." And then with the spin of a heel, stomped off tossing a nasty look as I slammed the gate behind me. Ugh! Grow up much? Two minutes later I was gripped with fear and foot in mouth-itis slapping myself for showing/telling the fool where I lived!!
As a result, Sunday afternoon you would have caught me doing this move:
I call it the "scurry to the trash cans before the no manners neighbors see you
and decide to plot revenge by spitting at you from their deck
or try to get you to go for a spin on a beach cruiser."
(last part=true story)
So much for faux fur.
It's a case of sheer oversized tunic love.
I have no other words.
Except Spring are you here yet? I think I'm ready.
For turquoise and more fringe...
and bell-bottoms and more bell-bottoms and clogs, clogs, clogs.
Sigh.
It's gonna be a long winter.
I wonder if this neighbor will consider selling me a piece of his beat down garage door?
Suddenly in the middle of holiday chaos (which makes me very sad because this is such a wonderful, magical time of year) the warm weather appeared and broke the hustle and bustle, providing a moment of reprieve. Not to worry - I'm sure the grim reality of being nowhere near done shopping will be right there to greet me as soon as my eyes open in the morning. Argh.
Dear Monday: can you slow things down just a little?