Sweatpants

Well, it's been about 15 minutes since I clicked 'New Post', and still no ideas. Usually something comes to me by this point, but not tonight. Instead I'm just staring at the screen and thinking about how nice it will feel when I finally close my eyes and fall fast into a deep, dreamless sleep.

You see, I'm tired. I stayed up late the past few nights watching Housewives and it's finally caught up with me. Sleep deprivation. The worst. I did it to myself, I did, and that's why it really hurts.

Here's something to ponder: from 7th grade through 12th grade—ages 13 to 18—I wore sweatpants and a sweatshirt to school every day.

OK, maybe it was four days a week. But still.

Also, in junior high, I often took things a step further and wore actual pajama bottoms. Fuzzy PJ bottoms in cow print, polka dots or plaid. I remember our assistant principal, Mrs. Riley, tried to enforce a ban. When I caught wind of this, I organized a protest, encouraging everyone to wear PJ bottoms to school one day. Civil disobedience at its finest.

She never said anything to us about it. We didn't get in trouble. She probably thought, "F it, I really don't care" and moved on to more pressing matters.

Other facts about sweatpants:

• Andy only wears them in the house. If he's taking out the garbage, he changes back into jeans.

• Sometimes it's more comfortable to wear them with the pockets inside out. 

• It was common knowledge among Inglemoor High School students that Fred Meyer had the best sweatpants.

• They really are, without a doubt, very unflattering. 

• There's nothing more depressing than when you try on a friend's pair of sweatpants and they're too small. Tight sweatpants is an oxymoron. It's a non sequitur. Or at least it should be. When sweatpants fit snug around the butt, elastic jutting into the muffin top, it's extremely damaging to the self esteem. 

Annual Arrowheadian sleepover. Sweatpants all around.

Goodnight! Yes! Finally! Sleep! I can't wait.

Margaret

P.S. I'd like to thank my parents for never commenting on my decision to dress like a slob for five straight years. I'm sure it was tempting, but if there was ever a time to be hands-off, it was then. The teenage years. Plus, if they'd even so much as hinted that I wear jeans, I would have read them the riot act. I'd probably still be wearing sweatpants daily just to prove a point.

So, that's something to file away for the future. You can't tell a teenager what to wear. They're too sensitive and too headstrong. Plus, it's none of your business. They're basically young adults and they should dress however they want, even if it is embarrassing and unflattering.

Get off the fence

"We should really come here and play tennis sometime."

That, I reckon, is the number one thing people say that they never end up following through on. I'm as guilty of this as anyone.

But let's end it now, America. The buck stops here.

Grab your rackets, go to that cute park and play some damn tennis!

Image by Vladsinger via Wikimedia Commons

Also, if you're on the fence about any of the following, here's the nudge you need:

• Build/get a fire pit — YES, do it.

• Quit your job — YES, do it. Try securing another job first though.

• Get bangs (fringe) — NO. Now's not the right time. Wait until autumn when the weather changes. Too hot for bangs right now. 

• Clean out your wallet — It can wait. 

• Go camping — YES, do it. Don't overthink it. Don't overpack.

• Wash your sheets — It can wait. 

• Buy a kayak — YES, do it. 

• Move to a new city — YES, do it.

• Tell whoever you're mad at that you're mad at them — NO. Just don't be mad. Life's too short. 

In other news, I bought a "night shirt" (basically a long, cotton smock) from The Gap. It's very old fashioned. Very ma-in-her-kerchief-and-I-in-my-cap. Like something Laura Ingalls Wilder would wear. I LOVE it. 

Goodnight,
Margaret

Auntiellama

I'm babysitting my niece Greta and nephew Ollie for four days starting TOMORROW!

Despite being fully qualified—I've been a certified babysitter since age 12—I haven't watched any of my niblings (yep, that's the correct terminology) for such a long stint before. Am I nervous? NO! Do I have what it takes? YES! Am I the world's best aunt? IN THE TOP TEN, AT LEAST.

As Fraulein Maria would say, I have confidence in me!

A captain with seven children—what's so fearsome about that?

Something else boosting my confidence is my new sweatshirt. Behold its sequinned beauty.

Some boy modelling my new sweatshirt. 

Carole from RHONY inspired me to order it. She wore one that said "you had me at merlot" a few episodes back, then tweeted about the company that makes them. Sure, it was an impulse buy, but I regret nothing. Plus, maybe some big whig will see me walking around Kenmore wearing it, go to my blog and then offer me a million-dollar sponsorship deal.

Bye for now,
Margaret

P.S. Migraine-free since May 23rd. To what do I owe this incredible headache hiatus? Not sure. Maybe it's the gummy vitamins!

This counts as a blog post

I had a tantrum tonight. My mother had to draw me a bath.

The day had gone well, but all of a sudden it was 9:30pm and I still had to:

1. Buy Woolite
3. Wash my blouses
2. Finish vacuuming
3. Write a blog
4. Plan my outfit for this thing tomorrow

Then I made the mistake of trying on WORK PANTS. Black wide-leg, tight-arse trousers. GOD. It was bad. And I realized that I gave my long ones away during my pre-Seattle clothing cleanse. That left only the hemmed ones, which meant no heels. But guess what? I also gave away my flats! Curse this minimalist streak.

When I realized that I didn't have the time or energy to go to QFC and buy Woolite, I really lost it.

Waaaaah! Waaaaah! Waaaaah! Boo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo.

The more I tried to pull myself together, the sadder the situation felt. I mean, why did I give away those black flats? WHY!?

Francie and my mom witnessed the whole thing. They were patient and sympathetic and generous with their wardrobes. Finally, my mom suggested a bath.

From an electrical point of view, I risked my life to take this photo.

This photo is creepy and corpse-like.

I'd forgotten that Nadinski heats her bathwater to just a hair under boiling. It took me ten minutes to fully ease into the tub. Once horizontal, I decided to fully submerge—neck, ears, hair, face—until I was completely below the waterline.

It was HEAVEN.

My bowlcut fanned out around me, tugging gently at my scalp as it swayed. Water sloshed across my face, tickled my closed eyelids and warmed the tip of my nose. Without having to tell myself to, I naturally took several deep breathes.

I'm not proud of my behavior, but I'm beyond pleased with myself for writing about it honestly in this blog post.

Namaste y'all,
Margaret

Running down a hill in a jacket I borrowed from my 95-year-old grandma

#OnVacay

The Internet situation is limited here. Using our phones as hotspots, but we're low on data.

I'll be back to "normal" blogging next week.

Yolo,
Margaret

Shirt labels these days...

Something's up with them.

My mom says they never used to be so fat and so long. Also, there didn't used to be so many.

"Now there's like five on every shirt," she says.

Anna has a sheer blouse with a giant label that's visible through the fabric. She fears cutting it would make the situation worse.

Francie agrees. "You could cut it, but the nubbin might look even weirder."

"And sometimes the nubbin itches more than the full label," my mom says. She reiterates to us that big labels are a new thing. "It didn't used to be like this!"

Maybe gratuitous shirt labels are due to new regulations? Must all retailers, by law, disclose a laundry list (n.p.i.) of washing instructions?

No, that can't be.

"What about label-less t-shirts?" Anna says. "That's also a thing now. So, it can't be due to any sort of law."

Image by jdbradway via Flickr

Whatever the reason, we all agree it needs to stop.


Yours,

Margaret

P.S. Kim Richards of RHOBH was arrested for being drunk/disorderly/kicking a cop. It was only a matter of time. Let's hope this will be a catalyst for her getting the help she needs! Of course, we're all wondering, what does Brandi think? Where was Brandi during all this? Did she call Brandi? Will Brandi defend her? Et cetera, et cetera.

Does it stay or does it go?

I'm moving to Seattle in a month. A MONTH.

My visa's up, and it's time for Andy to experience a country where the mailman doesn't just drop off incoming post, but takes your outgoing mail too. Get ready, Ram. Conveniences like that are just the tip of the iceberg.

I  have only four weekends left, and I expect most of those to be filled with surprise goodbye parties. So, I figured it would behoove me to start the packing process today.

According to my calculations, 80% of what I own has to go. Great! I love a good declutter sesh. I'm very excited about giving my ancient sock collection the heave-ho and starting anew.

Still, saying goodbye to some items was difficult.

DOES IT STAY or does it GO ?

Beige pencil skirt

Ha! This lil' number may have gotten me a few office gigs in the past, but my corporate days are over. I won't need this while I type my novel in my houseboat. It GOES.

Spokane Chiefs hockey jersey

Give THIS away? Heck no. I won it fair and square by tricycling down the ice at halftime and beating two other hockey fans to the finish line. Yes, I've been waiting my whole life for the right occasion to wear it, but that day will come. It STAYS.

Moccasins

I'm moving back to the west coast of America—land of the laid back and carefree. It would seem wrong not to take my most laid back, carefree footwear. They STAY.

"Three Cups of Tea" by Greg Mortenson

Firstly, an actual book? I don't need those heavy, spacehogs anymore. I have a kindle now. Secondly, the guy who wrote this turned out to have the ol' Brian Williams/Mike Daisey disease. Don't even know why this paperback of lies is still on my bookshelf. It definitely GOES.

Dusty Chacos

Yes! I must keep these. Haven't worn them in five years, but I'm going to get massively into hiking once I'm back. I'll need them. They STAY.

Tie-Dye Shirt

Francie and I each bought a tie-dye shirt at the Folk Life Festival in 2002. I still have mine. It's come in handy for a few 70s-theme parties, but I think it's time I lay it to rest. I'm 28 now. Also, it smells really musty. With a heavy heart, it GOES.

Hundreds of 'Margaret Kay Content' business cards

Sad to throw all these away, but it's time for some new partnerships and some re-branding. Plus, I forgot to put my email address on them. Not a ringing endorsement of my copywriting skills. 

They GO. 

To play us out, in honour of everything that didn't make the cut, here's Andre:

Cheers, 

Margaret

Will I ever wear a jean skirt again?

I was looking through my old Facebook photos today, as is my routine on 'no TV Tuesdays'. Yet, this time I noticed something I hadn't before:

The jean skirt!

Photos indicate that it was a big part of my life—not that long ago, and for a long time. But what happened to it? Why has it been so absent from my life for the past few summers?

Here are my guesses:

1. It's out of style. Is it out of style? If so, maybe my brain subtly picked up on that.

2. There's been about three sunny days in Scotland since I moved here five years ago, and I wore shorts on those days.

3. You just don't see denim skirts as much here as you do in the States. They're very American. I've abandoned my heritage, and therefore the jean skirt.

4. I discovered £7 black skinny jeans at Primark back in 2011 and haven't looked back.

Char and I in our jean skirts in Malta. 

Typically, after hiatuses such as this, I would rediscover the forgotten garment and begin to work it back into my wardrobe. But I'm 28 now. I have a bowl cut and a Unique Taxpayer Reference number. My jean skirt years might be over for good.

This may be one of the most inane, narcissistic blog posts I've ever written. But that makes me like it even more. I can't wait until I'm 108-years-old, reading this from my 3D Kindle Space virtual reality hovercraft, and chuckling at my 28-year-old self contemplating whether jean skirts still have a place in my life.

Bye for now,
Margaret

P.S. 'No TV Tuesdays' isn't some television-free day I've committed to doing once a week. It just happens to be the day that I have no TV shows to watch. We have to wait a day to get US shows, and nothing good airs on Mondays.