My cat is housebound and bored. An unfortunate run-in with a raccoon a couple of years ago left him blind in one eye and ended his days as a free wheeling outdoor kitty. Since then he spends his days perched on a windowsill swishing his tail and glaring at me with his one good eye. He has revenge on his mind and dreams of tracking down that bastard raccoon and finishing him off. I know he would then return and do me in me as well, since he considers me the sole obstacle between him and The Sweetie, his one true love. I have bought him assorted toys, tried to engage him in games of tag and offered him new crunchy treats, all to no avail. Despite his plots for my untimely end, I can’t help it, I love the cranky little fellow.

When I saw this incredible house from Montreal design company Loyal Luxe, I knew I had to order it for my furry problem child. His confinement to the indoors may be more bearable if he can retreat to his own cool guy pad, tricked out with Canadiana moose antlers. This may be just the thing to brighten his day. Every kitty needs privacy for his dark thoughts, a place to call his own where he can relax in style and dream of vengeance.

I saw this sweet necklace by a Toronto artisan and instantly and conveniently forgot about the August shopping ban I had imposed on myself.

I rationalized that much of the ban had to do with my avoidance of anything pertaining to autumn. I do not want to see itchy wool sweaters or heavy clothing so a shopping ban felt timely. This necklace, though, looks light as air, positively spring-like in fact.

Besides being local, light and lovely, the necklace also features rose quartz. I have been a big fan of rose quartz ever since I learned that it’s the love crystal. It is the feel-good-unconditional-love-vibes-for-all talisman.

I already have a fabulous rose quartz necklace that makes me feel like a new age Wilma Flintstone.

Sometimes, however, it feels too heavy and clunky around my neck. I don’t want to feel burdened and weighed down by too much unconditional love, now do I? This new necklace will be light and easy to manage and will still send out the love vibes.

Of course, I recognize that all of this is a cheap rationalization to justify my uncontrollable consumption and impulsiveness. I don’t really need a new necklace. I certainly don’t need an amulet for protection against critics but considering my recent defending my life rampage, it couldn’t hurt. Perhaps this is why athletes wear the same underwear for an important game and business executives have their power suits. Sometimes we need a physical representation of our inner desires or something tangible to cling to when things feel chaotic. We all need a life preserver now and then, a set of water wings in a prettier and less bulky package. I shouldn’t need to depend on a crystal for some gentle loving compassion but sometimes the days can be dark, the critics can be loud, and a sweet necklace may be just the touchstone I need.

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.