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A couple of weeks ago the garbage truck rumbled through the alley behind my house making all sorts of mad noise and beeps. When I woke up I could have sworn was at home, in my parents' house, with the school bus waiting in the driveway. As in 20 years ago. 

I'm homesick. And I can't help thinking it's compounded by the 80's and 90's stuff floating around everywhere. Neon, moto, studs, cropped boots, lace--it's out in full force and I wore a piece of all of it back in the day. Jeggings? Can't remember what we called them, but I had more pairs of ribbed jeans than I knew what to do with. Floral denim? Let's just say I swore NEVER AGAIN to anything bright when it was all over and the fog lifted.

Cut to scene and somehow a pair of neon pink pants has found its way into my closet. Perhaps I can blame it on angst over aging and missing my family? Something's gotta give because I'm actually starting to like neon and it's scaring the hell out of me.  In an effort to test for a cure, this weekend I'm taking a quick zip home to Canada. My sanity is on the line and, quite frankly, I'm not sure how much more Home Depot and the local thrift store can take of my wardrobe.

The title of this post sounds so ominous.  Nope--just the story of an LBD and a favorite denim shirt.

Yesterday was a race from the moment I opened my eyes until the time I hit the couch just in time to catch Teen Mom (cue the tears over Catelynn's fear of Brandon & Teresa cutting off contact with Carly).  Being busy without scary demands is a good feeling.  Unfortunately it wasn't so great when I reached over to turn on the straight iron only to realize 10 minutes later the thing had crossed over to the great hair appliance factory in the sky.  Why me?  Cut to scene and there I was racing out the door minutes later with a somewhat fuzzed out head of hair and a bag containing various outfit changes to last the day...miraculously I was only 10 minutes late to the first meeting.  Think screeeeech.

It should be noted that cleaning out the closet can yield many a forgotten treasure.  Case in point the little black dress in this post.  I picked it up more than a few years ago and have only worn it once or twice because it always gets lost beneath a hanging jacket.  Imagine my excitement upon rediscovering it this past Saturday.  We're in this weird weather pattern right now:  fogged in for the morning, blazing hot for the afternoon and then fogged in and cold for the evening.  I'm not ready to kiss summer goodbye so am working dresses and shorts to the maximum opting for light layers overtop that can easily be tossed aside once it warms up.  Second case in point:  the denim shirt.  Everyone laughed and called me a cowboy when I picked it up at Martin+Osa (RIP) a couple years ago.  Laughs on you suckahs (ie. friends who teased and read this blog)!  The denim shirt is back with a vengeance and I'm here to claim my rightful seat on the denim shirt throne.  On a serious note:  two wardrobe essentials paired together for chic and easy. You really can't go wrong.

And now let us carry on toward the weekend.  Only two days to go...

I think the bloody heat has gotten to my mind.  Yesterday morning I woke up from a dream where I was begging my friend Amber to bring me a Pepsi Slurpee from 7-11.  It was the weirdest thing - right in the middle of the dream I remembered I don't even like those and started pleading for a glass of water.  Why I couldn't get my own is beyond me.  All I know is it was hot in that dream, and when my eyes opened it was hot in my house.  (But thankfully I had not sleep-dialed poor Amber! Can you imagine??). 

Do you ever have mornings where you wake up and just know you should stay in bed until the next day?  Like the gong show is just waiting to gong your life all day long?  Well I had that day yesterday.  First was the sweaty, drink-less dream. Then I rolled into my office after a shower where I could barely get cool water - only to discover my internet provider had lost service to at least a thousand customers in my area.  Isn't that special?  Not so much.  How, pray tell dear people, is a person to do their job sans internet?  Oh and never mind the fact that I pay my bills online and several needed to be paid by noon PST.  That's not happening!  I decide I'm going to be productive and do some laundry and clean-up...only to walk into my mudroom and find it filled with smoke from the new next door neighbor who sits in his yard and cigars it up all day and night while the breeze wafts over his fence and into my home.  Welcome neighbor!  When are you moving out again?!?

I could go on, but I'll stop and spare you the details.  Suffice it to say by 11:30am I was huddled under the bed with nothing but a peep hole to the tv where I could see that Victor Newman is being sued by his daughters.  (All I could do is hope the tv didn't go up in smoke like the time my blowdryer almost lit my hair on fire - true story).  Thankfully the Chef stopped by and rescued me from spontaneous combustion.  We strolled the streets and took in a new sushi restaurant before returning home late in the evening to realize My Generation starts at 8 and not 9pm.  Fitting, isn't it?