[Almost] One year later

After my doozy of a last post, almost a year ago, I’m just coming back to add a quick update for those people who may come across this site during a search, or who still follow it.

Two weeks ago Joe and I welcomed our son, Oscar, into the world. We were extremely lucky this time around- I had zero complications, minimal morning sickness, and a pretty uneventful pregnancy.

It took us six years of marriage to get to this point, the point where we’re sleep deprived, surrounded by dirty diapers, newborn clothes and pacifiers. But we’re loving every minute of it.

I’ll reiterated what I said a year ago, though. You never truly know anyone else’s experiences. I suffered a loss, took it hard, dealt with it the best way I could. Joe and I ended up moving into our house on what would’ve been the first baby’s due date. Oscar arrived almost EXACTLY a year to the day I had a D&E  for the first pregnancy (he was off by one day). It’s amazing how life works. I will never forget the “could’ve been” for my first (supposed to be) baby. But I’m grateful every single day that I was able to carry Oscar to term, give birth and hold him in my arms. Some people never get to experience that. I am lucky, I know that.If you’re reading this and you’re TTC, or holding out hope for your rainbow baby, it can happen, and I hope it happens very soon for you. ❤



True life: I had a miscarriage

In March, Joe and I were excited and terrified to learn that we’d be welcoming a baby into our lives later in the year. We went to our monthly appointments, got to see his/her little face, hear the heartbeat and spend time planning what we’d name it. We bought a crib and even discussed how do decorate the nursery and what we’d do when it woke us up at night.

Then, at our 16-week appointment, when I was just beginning to show and could no longer wear my non-maternity clothes, we were told terrible news. Our baby no longer had a heartbeat.

There were zero warning signs. I had morning sickness, couldn’t brush my teeth without gagging (the worst), and was gaining some weight. I never felt cramps, never bled- nothing. As my OB told us the bad news, I was fairly certain she was joking. After all, I had been doing everything correctly, following the rules, taking my vitamins, and everything that you’re supposed to do to keep the fetus healthy. In the end, it didn’t matter. There wasn’t anything we could’ve done. The entire process was devastating and terrifying. I had to have surgery, which was a first. I’ve never had an IV in my arm, never had any surgery, save for a bone graft in my mouth, but I don’t count that.

In the span of 10 seconds we went from happy and excited to devastated and worried. After all, I haven’t been pregnant before, I had no idea what to expect. We knew a miscarriage was a possibility, but were told that it was extremely rare past 12-weeks (only 2% of pregnancies end in a miscarriage after 12-weeks). Joe was (and still is ) a trooper. He was more concerned with me, my emotions, my feelings and how I was handling things. I’m still not OK and still won’t be OK for a while.

We had told our friends and family when we hit 12-weeks that we were expecting. So Joe had the tough task of telling his mother and my mother. I laid on the couch and cried. I kept trying to remind myself, ‘you can’t miss what you’ve never had,’ which is easier to swallow now than it was at the beginning of June. My emotions are sometimes compounded when the few friends/family members who found out they were expecting around the same time talk about finding out their baby’s sex, getting to see their baby at their 20-week appointment, and mentioning how excited they are, because that should’ve been me and Joe. It’s hard to be excited for them, yet grieve for our own loss, you know?

All things come in time, I suppose. It’s been about two months since we found out, and we’re much better emotionally than we were then. Why am I telling you all of this? Why am I airing my personal, private information for public consumption? Because I felt so very lost in the month after, and still do at times, that I’m hoping I can give someone else a little comfort by letting them know they’re not alone. I know I’m not the first, nor will I be the last person to have a miscarriage. It’s not anything I would wish upon anyone.

Miscarriages suck. But you’re not alone.


The long and the short of an explaination

some favorite outfits
Some of my favorite outfits

Over the past two years I’ve had quite a few of you inquire my whereabouts and make sure I was doing OK. I also promised to give you an explanation of what happened and why I stopped blogging.

My life has changed in many ways in a short amount of time. Most of you know that I lost my dad and subsequently started a new job. That job was a great learning experience, both personally and professionally. I stopped feeling the need to blog my outfits because the dress code there was very open and flexible. The CEO wore sweatpants, as did a handful of other employees. I’ve never been one to wear sweatpants to work and even though it was OK to do so there, I never did. However, I did end up with a uniform of sorts in the form of jeans, t-shirts and cardigans. So that’s what I wore nearly every day. At some point I decided that this type of outfit wasn’t worth documenting, because it wasn’t anything new or exciting. I figured that unless I was showing a variety of outfit types, I, along with readers, would get bored.

I was also faced with a coworker who would consistently question my sartorial choices and make fun of them, to my face, if she deemed them unworthy. For example, I do not wear matching socks very often. No one sees my socks and I always seem to get a hole in one sock, but not both. Rather than get rid of both socks, I keep the good one and wear it with another that doesn’t have a match. I don’t think it’s odd, but she did. I wore a pair of Halloween socks in April and she started informing me how it’s not Halloween and how stupid they looked. She did this in front of other coworkers and made me feel about three inches tall, because they’re socks, yet I felt embarrassed for wearing them. They didn’t affect my ability to do my job, but the fact that they impacted her life so much so that she had to tell me why I looked stupid made me begin to question why I wore them.

On another occasion, this coworker told me that I needed to make sure I “ didn’t look better” than her, as we were going on a presentation together, and I traditionally wear a suit for presentations. After this type of verbal harassment continued on a strangely consistent basis, I was in no mood to take photos of a mediocre outfit I had worn that day.

Around this same time Joe and I began house-hunting and packing up our belongings with the hopes of moving into our very own house before the end of 2012. Then, one week after my 27th birthday, I went into work after putting an offer in on a house and I was told I was being laid off. You’d think with all my newly found free time I’d have time to blog again, right? Not exactly. Now I was wearing yoga pants along with my t-shirts and spending my time applying for new jobs, reading books and sorting out all the stuff Joe and I had hurriedly packed up to move into a house, which we obviously didn’t get because we lost my income.

And that brings us to today. I’m still looking for a full-time gig, and have been applying like a madman. I’d love to be able to showcase my style again, because it’s changed, as have I. I am not pairing insane color combinations together any longer, or wearing bright colors all the time. This week I’ve worn mostly black, grey and white, if you can believe it. My style has become less “WEAR ALL THE THINGS!” and has become much more “how can I look like an almost 30-year-old, while maintaining my sense of self and level of professionalism.” I’ve also started trying to maintain a master list of what I own, so I can choose better items to incorporate. Right now that lives on Pinterest, and is nowhere near an exhaustive list. I’m working on it. I have some plans and ideas to revive my wardrobe, my blog and myself. Hopefully I’ll begin to feel more like myself again, and more like myself than I have in the past two years.


Is this thing on?

Hello those out there who still read this. It’s been awhile. I’ve been trying to figure out if I wanted to blog anymore and if I had anything worth blogging about. The job I started in 2011 changed the way I dressed. Instead of dressing in skirts and jackets, I wore jeans and t-shirts nearly every day. Why would I document that, and who wants to see that?

Now I spend nearly every day in yoga pants and t-shirts, another outfit that doesn’t need to be documented. By that reasoning, the very beginning and need for this blog had kind of ended. I don’t have any fun household DIYs or recipes to share. I don’t cook well, and I don’t think that’s something that’s very interesting to other people because of my lack of cooking skills (I do make rad mac and cheese, though).

I enjoyed blogging when I did it. I loved the community I felt, and still am in touch with many of those people to this day. I miss that part of blogging. I don’t miss feeling stressed out, wondering if I looked “blog worthy” or if I would have enough time and light to take my photos before the sun set.


So this is where I decide what I want to do. My whole reasoning behind wanting/needing an outlet for my outfits was because I of where I worked and that I wanted to be able to express myself in an outward way. Because that’s changed, I’m trying to decide the next phase of my life. I’m spending most of my time focused on finding a job and purging items I don’t need, in case that job takes me across the country. In order to fund this potential move, I am planning to have a blog sale of my nicer and vintage clothing items. Hopefully someone out there will love them as much as I did, but will be able to wear them more than I did.

(This isn’t a “hey I’m quitting blogging” post. It’s more of a “hey, I owe you all an explanation, but can’t get into it right now, and I’m working on coming back” post.)


2013 goals


2012 wasn’t my year. Let’s be honest, neither was 2011. I refuse to let 2013 be a failure. I’m not one for resolutions, because I feel like they’re things I think are a good idea for about five minutes, then I kind of get over it (like going to the gym or getting consistent haircuts).

Instead of making a resolution I’ll never follow through I put together some goals that I want to work on this year, and hopefully they will help my outlook on life.

1. Get better organized
I am terrible at organization and terrible at keeping things tidy. TERRIBLE at it. I’d really like to get better organized and use the space Joe and I have more efficiently. I’d also like to streamline the things I own and get rid of clothes, shoes, etc that I don’t wear/use. I feel like it’s more of a clutter issue that I need to combat first, then I can figure out how to better store the crap I’m keeping.

2. Focus on happiness instead of negativity
I didn’t realize how negative I’d become over the past few months until Joe pointed it out to me. Once I realized it, I started to wonder who else had noticed it but didn’t feel like they could tell me, and it made me really sad. I’ve always been more of a happy (albeit cynical) person, but lately everything has just become a big pity party. And frankly I’m sick of it. My life isn’t any worse than anyone else’s and positive, happy things happen everyday. Those are the things I need to focus on. So I’m going to share something every day (maybe via twitter?) that made me happy. If I force myself to think of the positive things it should become second nature, right?

3. Find a job I enjoy
This one might be a little harder to accomplish, but I’ve been searching for a job in general and am hopeful I’ll be able to find something soon. I am also hoping to find something I enjoy doing, regardless of what it is. Who knows, I might really enjoy working at Starbucks!

4. Find a hobby
I really enjoy reading and writing, but these are both things I’ve been neglecting lately. I want something to do that doesn’t involve spending money or staring at a TV. Maybe that’s writing, maybe it’ll involved being super organized, or maybe I’ll become fantastic at painting designs on my nails (don’t count on it, ha!). Whatever it is, I want to find something that’s fun that I enjoy doing.

Do you have any goals or resolutions? Do you stick to yours or find yourself giving in by February?


7,000 mirrors are bested by a TARDIS

Last night Joe and I had to go pick up his car*, so while we were on the way there we had one of our typically strange conversations.

Me: It made me so mad I wanted to punch, like, a thousand mirrors. Without wearing gloves.

Joe: That doesn’t seem like a good idea.

Me: Ok, fine. I’ll wear gloves.

Joe: No, that’s not what I meant. I meant that breaking that many mirrors is 7,000 years of bad luck.

Me: No it’s not. If you break them all at once it’s only seven.

Joe: I don’t think it works like that. You can’t compunded the years of bad luck.

Me: Show me the rules. It only says seven years of bad luck; it doesn’t say those years begin now. So if I get to choose when they start, I pick 14 years ago.

Joe: What? It doesn’t work like that. You can’t just pick when you want your bad luck.

Me: Sure it does. That’s what I choose. If I have a TARDIS, I can totally make this work.

Joe: Time doesn’t work like that.

Me: You think it’s linear. It’s totally cylindrical. Er, circular. Time is circular.

Joe: Time is linear. You’re insane.

Me: Tell that to my bad luck that’s already over.

*we were either getting new tires or having it painted in a flaming unicorn motif. One of these is the truth, one is totally false. It’s like a pick-you-own-adventure game.


Ridiculously photogenic Ruckus

Ruckus usually doesn’t get much facetime here, mostly because she’s shy and doesn’t like to sit still for my camera. Today, however, she decided to be ridiculously photogenic, minutes before I hauled out the vacuum, so I was able to snap some super cute photos of her.

So here are some adorable kitty photos for your Sunday. Enjoy!

(She always seems to get covered in dust when we’re cleaning. Her dark fur attracts it like a magnet.)


My cat is trying to kill me

I’m pretty sure Loafy is trying to give me a heart attack. She’s been doing this for a while, ever since she’s had access to an open banister.


She has no fear.


What have I been doing?

Well, I made it until January 13. Three months of not-shopping, with only three incidents where I purchased something for myself (not even with my own money either!). I made it through the one-year anniversary of losing my father.

What else have I been doing? Through my job I was able to meet Matthew Stafford:

I cut off my hair (five inches were taken off!)
New year, new hair. Quorra bangs, pink locks and it's shorter?! Woohoo!!

I started off the new year by taking one photo every day. So far they’re just in a folder on Flickr, but I’m considering blogging them.

I also wrote up a “30 before 30” list of things I want to do in the next four years. Some I’ve already accomplished! I left three blank spaces so I can still add to the list if I choose to.

I had the best/worst autocorrect ever
Worst autocorrect ever. My fingers always hit the "b" instead of space.

I also took some time to think about this blog and what I want to do. I don’t feel like I’m done with blogging, but I feel like I’m done with blogging about my personal style. That part of me is over and done with. Instead, I’d like to blog about what photo I took to represent that day, what crazy TV shows I’m watching (who else watched American Horror Story?!), maybe some of the books I’m reading, and pretty much whatever strikes my geek-heart (DIYs?).

I really appreciate the encouragement, comments, tweets and emails I’ve been receiving. Knowing that I needed to take a break, and that those of you who know what I’m dealing with know that it’s not easy. You can’t just wake up and feel OK knowing that a person you’ve depended on for 25 years of your life is gone. This blog has been my outlet over the past few years I’ve been working on it, and I’ve my share of ups and downs. I’ve had kind comments and rude comments; been put down for “always complaining” and for not dressing “well” enough; I’ve made some wonderful friends because of this blog, and have even had the chance to work with some great brands.

However, the way I see it now is different. I am no longer interested in sharing what I’m wearing, because it’s changed. I don’t wear cute skirts or dresses to work. I wear jeans, t-shirts, sweatshirts – basically what I used to wear to class when I was in college – and I’m OK with that. My job changed, my priorities changed, my life changed. Every once in a while you may see an outfit pop up, but I’m fairly certain it won’t be in the same capacity it once was. If you’re here because you like my outfits, I thank you, and encourage you to follow my Instagram feed or my twitter feed, because I do occasionally post photos of what I’m wearing there.

For those of you still here, wanting to follow along with wherever 2012 takes me, thank you. To those of you heading off to remove me from your feed because this blog no longer fits what you are looking for, I thank you for reading it in the past. If you’re new here, hi! I hope you’ll find something you like here, even if it’s just photos like this one of my cat:

I will have a few review posts coming up, because I was working on them before my break, so bear with me while I transition this blog into what I’d like it to be. I appreciate your patience and your kindness while I figure things out, and I’d also like to say I’m happy to be back!


Father’s Day


Last Friday marked five months since I lost my dad. I spent a good part of the weekend wondering what I would be doing this weekend if dad were still here. A barbecue, perhaps hanging out at home, or trying to force dad to eat some random dessert I made. Or maybe I’d be asking him for help finding a house or fixing the dent in my car.

I came to the stunning realization not too long ago that I’ll never get to hug him again. You may think this is coming a bit late, considering I knew I wouldn’t get to hug him again the moment I knew he was gone, but you’d be wrong. My memories and realizations are coming in waves. Some more drastic than others.  Sometimes without warning, and sometimes they pile up until I feel like I can’t take it any more.

Watching TV, which is usually an escape, can trigger emotions I don’t want to deal with. Watching a commercial about a grandfather reading to his grandson makes me realize my future children will never get to hear my dad’s voice, sit on his lap, or hear his funny stories. I use to dream about my dad babysitting my future children, playing with them and spoiling them rotten, and it hurts to know that I’m wrong about that part of my future.


On Friday, the five month mark, I bought a Father’s Day card my dad will never get to open, exactly what I would’ve bought him if he were still here. I’ve written a message to him very similar to this one, about how much I miss him and wish I could talk to him again, even though I know he can’t answer me.

I want to ask my dad how I fix a broken garbage disposal, what type of home loan to get, how to look for a house to buy, what size wrench  I need to fix my table, and all these other questions I would usually ask him. Sometimes I find myself reaching for the phone, about to dial my parent’s home phone number and stop, knowing he can’t answer the phone. I still have his work phone and cell phone numbers listed in my phone. I don’t have the heart to delete them. They’re a reminder to myself that maybe, just maybe, I could talk to him again if I really wanted to.

But I know that’s not true.

I wish he knew how much I love my new job, how great my new coworkers are,how much I adore my sister and mom, and how awesome the friends are I’ve met through blogging. I wish he could see how great Joe and I are together, I wish he could attend my brother’s wedding and I wish he could meet my sister’ boyfriend. I wish he knew how much I missed him.

I don’t know what I was trying to accomplish by writing this. Maybe I’m afraid I’m going to forget him, although I know that not true. I think I just wanted to talk about how much I miss him and how awesome he really was.

This Father’s Day, I’m celebrating the things I remember most about him: his laugh, his devotion to family, his sense of humor, his hugs and his awesome personality.

Dad was the kind of man who you were just in awe of. He had the worst situations thrown at him, even as a young child, and any other person would’ve faltered under the pressure of the situation. But not my dad. He took the bad parts of his life and turned them into something good, even if it took him a while to do so.

He loved to make me, my sister and my brother laugh. He had his voices that he’d do, or he’d cock his head, look at me and say, “that’s what you’re wearing?” in a monotone, deadpan voice. I’d freak out and change, while my sister laughed, knowing dad was just doing it to annoy me.

I inherited his laugh. When he thought something was really, really funny, he’d howl, stomp his feet or clap his hands. Watching TV with him was very hard if you wanted to be able to hear the show. I don’t stomp my feet, but I laugh just like he does, and if I’m too loud, Joe will call me “Bill” to get me to calm down.

I remember how he had house shoes, house shirts and house pants. He also had work shoes, work shirts and work pants. They all had to be polished, pressed and folded PRECISELY, no matter if he was going to wear them to mow the lawn or go to work. He insisted on looking his best for the bugs that would attack him. Sometimes he’d throw on a hot pink baseball cap just because it was funny.

me and dad

There are experiences I’ve had with my dad that my siblings won’t get, and sometimes it makes me feel guilty. He walked me down the aisle at my wedding, got to dance with me and celebrate that day with me. And here I am, less than a week away from my brother’s wedding, realizing that dad won’t be there. And it kills me that my brother doesn’t get that experience.

But, as my sister will remind me, she and my brother had experiences with dad that I’ll never have. So we each have our own set of memories with dad.

When you’re celebrating with your dad this weekend, give him an extra hug, just for me, because that’s one thing I miss the most.