I have a new necklace.

The lovely and talented Amy at Smitten Kitten is the perfect model for her own works. I saw her last week wearing one of her creations and instantly decided that I needed to be just like her. What I really wanted was her entire ensemble down to her lust-worthy Frye sandals. Luckily she has dainty feet, otherwise I would have had to jump her and nab her shoes. I settled for buying the necklace and I have been merrily wearing it ever since. I love a good dose of gilded nature.

Is is shallow that a new trinket makes me so happy? I guess I’m a very happy shallow girl. I have a gold feather around my neck and I think woodland creatures would approve.

Hi Swedish Hasbeens. You are not technically mine yet, but one day we will be together. Long after the trendy girls grow tired of you and toss you to the back of their closets, I will still be loving you. I have loved you forever. Maybe not your brand specifically, but I have had a long standing love of clogs since the 1970’s.

The clog seems to be the quintessential seventies shoe. I love seventies shoes. I love wedges and platforms and clunky cork heels. Maybe it comes with having substantially sized feet. Sticking my big feet in a delicate shoe always strikes me as ridiculous, kind of like a giant man in a tiny car.

I know there were numerous fashion atrocities in the seventies. I am not awaiting the return of polyester leisure suits or mutton chop sideburns. I am highly disturbed by the current hipster trend of messy Grizzly Adams beards and porn star mustaches. I do, however, have a soft spot for some of the outlandish seventies looks. There’s an old photo of my family before a big night out. My dad is sporting a purple shirt with a huge collar and my mom is wearing a green caftan with wide sleeves and coordinating frosted green eyeshadow. My sister and I are in matching red bell-bottoms, white turtlenecks and red vinyl vests. We all look crazy, outrageous and entirely fabulous.

The only thing missing in my seventies childhood were a few choice fashion pieces. I always wanted a satin jacket so I could pretend I was in a girl gang. I always wanted hairy boots. My mom thought they were ridiculous and refused to indulge in Sasquatch footwear. My heart broke a little when the hairy boot trend came back a few years ago. I wanted a pair desperately, but I didn’t want to be a middle aged woman standing on a street corner next to a teenager with matching footwear. When I am eighty and the styles come around again I will get a pair of hairy boots and a satin jacket. At that point I won’t be a middle aged woman trying to recapture her youth. I will be an old crazy lady and I will flaunt my fashion choices with all my frail boned might.

I will not, however, wait for clogs until I am old and my ankles are unsteady. I will bide my time and when they go on sale we will be together. I will make a lot of noise when I walk and be transported back to the days of hearing Steely Dan in my mom’s Pinto, looking at her backcombed head from the backseat, when everything was hazy and dreamy the way it is in childhood, and I will rock my clogs like nobody’s business.

Sometimes I question my path in life and still feel like an awkward tween even at the age of almost forty one. Sometimes it is hard to be an introvert in an extroverted world.

I think it may be my impending birthday. Birthdays have a way of making me want to take stock and look back on how I’ve grown and what, if anything, I’ve accomplished. I often compare myself to others and feel that I am lacking although I know that I wouldn’t trade my life for anyone else’s. It’s strange that I can still make myself feel angst ridden when there is no angst to be had, question my choices and judge myself when there is no reason to judge. It is an adolescent habit I have yet to break.

No matter how old you get sometimes you still can’t outgrow yourself.

As an early birthday gift for myself, I am considering ordering these two lovely prints. There has to be room in this ambitious world for awkward retiring sorts who enjoy a nice furry pet, a bowl of snacks and quiet time.

The other day I ventured into Anthropologie with my girlfriend, “just to window shop.”

“I know you are on a strict budget, I won’t let you buy anything, we’ll just look,” my friend assured me.

We wandered around sighing, randomly touching lovely frocks, diaphanous blouses and whimsical tablecloths.

If we passed something particularly fetching and dangerously tantalizing, my friend would immediately say, “that would be so ugly on you!”

If I lingered too long near anything, she would say, “that would be even more hideous on you, don’t even look at it, I think I am going to vomit!”

“Not as much as I’d vomit if I saw you in this!” I’d say, holding up the perfect dress for her.

“Wouldn’t you love to wear this to the garden party I’d have to show off my new tropical painted serving dishes?” I’d ask, holding out a flimsy frock. “And look, here is the apron I’d be wearing as I’d prepare punch and canapes for everyone.”

Every now and then my friend would gasp and hold out the perfect ensemble, “If I won the lottery, I would totally buy this for you!”

“If I won the lottery I’d buy that for me too! And then I’d get something for you too,” I’d answer.

Then I saw it. A delightful little frothy top in the sale section, in my size, reduced from $148.00 to $29.99. So really, it was like a savings of $118.00, right? I tried it on (just to try) and instantly fell in love, as did my friend.

“You have to get it. I’m sorry. I know I was supposed to help, but you have to.”

I had to.

It is the perfect Holly Hobbie gets a job as a secretary blouse. When I brought it home The Sweetie didn’t look convinced, saying, “isn’t it another loose top that looks like a pregnancy top that you have been trying to move away from?” Finally however, he had to admit that it had a Little House on the Prairie meets Librarian kind of charm.

To atone for falling off my thrifty no-shopping wagon, I decided to cook lentils. Lentils with couscous, a lentil loaf and a lentil curry. We have a lot of lentils and they are cheap. It is all about checks and balances. I can be indulgent and frugal at the same time. I can feel guilty and smug all at once. I will wear my Holly Hobbie Librarian shirt, stuff myself with lentils, and be charmingly chic and cheap doing so.

I have returned from a glorious week of sunshine, booze and buffets and am a more benevolent person as a result. Things were getting a little frightening leading up to my departure. Depleted of sunshine for too long, I had a dark soul and a bleak bleak heart. It is amazing what a little infusion of sunshine will do. It has been blustery and rainy for a couple of days since my return and I haven’t been bothered in the slightest.

Beach vacations are glorious. There was candy coloured brightness everywhere, on the clothes, the flowers and inflatable water toys. The sounds were delightful – the blaring mariachi music, the clickity clack of my flip flops, a deranged rooster who would start crowing incessantly at 3 in the morning, the hypnotic crash of the surf. I was mesmerized by the pelicans that flew like a fleet of freaky pterodactyls. I was charmed by the beach dogs who were gentle and wild at the same time, leaning against my leg for a nice rub behind the ears but looking like they could chew my arm off at any moment.

I loved uninterrupted time with The Sweetie. We invented a new game where he would lift me up in the water and pretend to throw me to the ocean as an offering.

I fell into a rhythm of sleeping when I was sleepy, moving when I felt like moving, and eating when I was hungry which turned out to be all the time. The Sweetie was trying to find out the Spanish word for vacuum as he was sure that that was the waiters’ nickname for me every time I neared the buffet. By mid-week I was using my ever increasing belly as a cup holder and book-rest as it spilled out over my bathing suit.

I came home resembling a barrel, all bloated and boozy. My clothes were straining and tight by the end of the week. I love that I don’t care right now. I am sun kissed, fat and jolly and I have survived another winter.