Maggie McCallie's 2013 Oscar Fashion Review

Yes, folks.  It's that time of year again.  Time for a girl in a used-to-be-white, pit-stained t-shirt and even-more-threadbare-than-last-year flannel pants to rate the stars' fashion at the Oscars ceremony.  Forget Joan Rivers.  Sure, her show is entertaining.  But every comment she makes is meant as a set up to a big joke.  I wonder half the time if she's really critiquing the clothes or just doing a  stand-up routine.  Plus, she's also not a "real" person.  And I don't just mean all of the synthetic stuff that's in her face.  She's been in Hollywood too long.  She's jaded.  She knows and understands fashion,  She's not like the rest of us.  Plus, her face has been pulled so tight from all of the plastic surgery, that I'm not convinced she can even see out of her eyes anymore.  The evidence:

So, I am forced to be the voice of the average person to rate how the stars did on Hollywood's biggest night.  Let's get to it.

I'd like to start with this year's winners. The first female winner of the night was Anne Hathaway.  She is a tremendous actress although not so great at acting like she's humble and doesn't expect to win.  There's something about her that's a little too self-important for me to truly be happy for her.  Here is her look:

I'd like to thank the Academy, the cast and crew, and, of course, my pert breasts.

She always looks great, but I didn't care for this look.  First of all, the neckline of the dress was too high to add a necklace - particularly one as chunky as this.  And then there's the obvious focal point - the tatas.  We all know you have breasts, Anne.  Anyone who had the misfortune of seeing Love And Other Drugs saw the hell out of them.  I didn't need to see them again tonight. 

Moving on.  Best Actress went to Jennifer Lawrence who I have to say I didn't much care for until I saw her in Silver Linings Playbook.  She just seemed a little too pouty.  Too "over" all of the glitz and glam that you just know was the reason she got into acting in the first place.  It burns me up when someone who has found success in Hollywood acts so ungrateful for it.  (I'm talking about you, Kristen Stewart, but I'll get to your dour ass in a minute.)  So here is Jennifer:

She looked stunning. Not at all pouty.  She looked young, which she is, and glamorous.  One of the best dressed ladies of the night which, in my opinion, were few.  She nailed it.  Her hair was flawless and the dress was a perfect choice for her age and skin tone.  She even managed to look good like this:

Would you not DIE if this happened to you at the Oscars?!  Joan Rivers even quipped that she's not the first girl to get on all fours on her way to an Oscar.  Good Lord.  Something like 40 million people watch this show.  At least she didn't do anything stupid.

Like this person:

I shouldn't say she looked "stupid".  I mean, on my best day I look like Naomi Watts probably does when she has a stomach bug and has been standing outside in the humidity after not having showered for a week and a half.  But what was with this dress?  Why the boob cut-out?  The color was pretty and her hair and make-up looked nice.  I just felt like the designer inadvertently forgot to finish making it and didn't have the heart to tell her once she had it on.

Let's move on to past winners.  Here's my Auburn girl, Octavia Spencer:

Just beautiful.  Joan and her cohosts kept making comments about how she looks good and knows how to dress "for her size".  I'm sorry but she looks great regardless of her size, height, hair color, toe length, favorite book or secret mole.  The dress is gorgeous and she wears it well.  The color is pretty against her skin and her jewelry goes nicely.  Good job, Octavia.  And War Eagle!

Here's another past winner:

 

 

 

I like this dress very much.  I, myself, am a fan of the capped sleeve.  Plus, Sandra Bullock is one person who appears to not have had major work done.  She is aging gracefully for someone in Hollywood which is commendable.   There was just one thing I thought was weird.

 

 

 

Why does she look like she had a bedazzled hearing aid?  I suppose this was a hair clip, but I kept waiting for her to answer a call on it.  It was awkward.  Not quite as awkward as when she did this:

 

 

 

... but awkward just the same.

 

Let's move to Nicole Kidman.

 

 

 

 

Nicole has had so much Botox that these days she looks like she's wearing a Nicole Kidman mask.  Luckily, she seems to have toned it down and her face doesn't look so weird.  I wasn't wild about the dress, but it was fine I guess.  The main thing I noticed was the size of her boobs.  She's shown 'em before in a movie or two.  She doesn't have much.  (Which is perfectly acceptable since I find myself in the same boat.)  So, what is all of that that is spilling out of the top of her dress?!  To me, this look screamed "Aging Star Who Wants To Still Try To Be Sexy But Is Really Past All Of That And Should Just Embrace The Roles As Channing Tatum's Mother That Are Likely The Only Ones Coming Her Way".  I should probably just be grateful I only had to put up with her boobs instead of Angelina's stupid leg from last year.

 

 

 

 

I love Reese Witherspoon but I don't love this dress.  She looks great, of course, and she had a baby like, 16 minutes ago.  But I didn't like the black at the top and at her ribcage.  I guess maybe it was meant to be slimming since she does have a newborn, but I would have liked it better if the whole dress was blue.  Also, Joan and her crew said that Reese had the best hair on the red carpet.  I have to disagree.  This hair looked like a Price Is Right Model from 1982.  I kept waiting for when she would direct someone toward the Plinko board and it just never happened.



 

 

 

Oh, gosh!  There it is again!

 

 

How about the pre-awards-show shows?  I only watched the one on ABC hosted by Kristen Chenowith and a slew of ABC personalities.  Most notably, Robin Roberts.

 

 



 

 

How great does she look?  What a year she's had.  She's such a neat lady and beautiful as well.  She's had medical issue after medical issue and all I can think of is, "Why don't my arms look like that?".  She looks terrific.  She is rocking the short hair and looks fabulous in that exquisite blue. 

 

But speaking of Kristen Chenowith, I would be remiss if I didn't address her interview with Adele.

 

 

 



Kristen's interview style was a little hero-worshippy for my taste.  And I'm pretty sure I heard her tell two different Best Actress nominees that she wanted them to win.  But it was her interview with Adele that made me wonder, When does Jack The Giant Slayer come to theaters?  I mean, these two people standing next to each other do not look like they are from the same species!  Adele recently had a baby, but why is she eight feet tall?  I guess Kristen is just really small.  Seems like I read that she rode to the ceremony in Jack Nicholson's pocket.  This was just a strange visual.  Not as strange perhaps, as this one:

 



 

 

You know what wasn't a strange visual?  This:

 

 

Jessica Chastain looked gorgeous.  Which was hard to imagine after this:

 

 

But her hair, her dress, her make-up - everything - was just right.  The color of her dress seemed like it was made for her skin.  She looked so good that I might actually be able to forgive her Golden Globes hair.

Another stunning look of the night, not surprisingly, was Charlize Theron.   What's interesting is that I am mistaken for her like, all  the time.  It's to the point where I have to go out in public wearing disguises.  Things like ill-fitting, outdated clothes and bad hair; so people won't think I'm her.  Anyway, she had to shave her head for a movie role and her hair has only recently stated growing out.  Look at this.  Are you kidding me???

 

If I shaved my head, this is what I would like:

 

 



 

Another gorgeous lady:

Has Halle Berry ever looked bad?  Well, I didn't care for her Golden Globes one-boob-out look:

 

 

It was kind of weird.  But even with that, she is gorgeous!  As with the Globes, I wasn't wild about her dress.  I kept thinking she was about to board the Starship Enterprise.  But still, Halle's worst day blows my best day off the map.

 

Now let's tackle two people I wish hadn't even shown up.  First, there's the incomparable Kristen Stewart.  First of all, why was she invited to the Oscars?!  She had just won several Razzies the evening before for whatever idiotic vampire movie she made last year.  She's mostly famous for sleeping with her married director.  She plays the same pouty, angst-ridden character in every movie she's in.  Why does she have an acting career?  She is not the least bit charismatic as she showcased during her grumbling presentation at the Oscar podium Sunday.   She seems like she has the sourest personality.  In fact, here she is doing her best smile:

 



 

 

In this shot, someone has just told her that they've found a cure for cancer.

 

 

Here, she's learned that they solved the decades-old mystery surrounding the death of JFK.

 

 

 

 Here, she's just learned of a horrific, fiery bus crash:





 

 

Ugh.  She has got to go.  She needs a sense of humor.  Like this person:

 

 



Finally, our "national treasure" Barbra Streisand.  I know Hollywood just loves this woman and that her surprise appearance was a highlight for all of them, but UGH.  I'm over her. She looked like she was shooting a movie where she would play a wicked queen.  Observe:

 

 

 

 

I'm going to cook you and eat you for my supper!!!

 

She is too old for long hair and a butt-cut.  And where are her breasts?  On the floor?  Look how low that dress is!  C'mon, Babs.  When you sing "Memories" I am wishing it was in reference to your career.  A distant memory.

 

 

Overall, the Oscars were nice, but certainly not the most glamorous I've seen.  And I know glamour. 

 

 

 

 

Seth MacFarlane was funny and the musical numbers were great (except for the lip-synched "All That Jazz" which showcased the fact that Catherine Zeta Jones hasn't had to move like that in the ten years since the move was made).  The In Memoriam part was weird (thanks, Barbra) due to the fact they left so many notable people out.  Andy Griffith?  Phyllis Diller?  And the show was excruciatingly long.  Don't they realize that no one cares about Best Documentary Short Subject?!  Get to the meaty stuff we all tune in for.  But I still love it and look forward to it every year.  Just as I'm sure you look forward to my insightful and meticulous reviews of the fashions.  Until next year... that's a wrap!

 

Disney Magic

I actually began this post prior to writing "Guilt"but never finished it until now.  Pardon the errors in continuity.



Happy New Year!  We are now into February and I have missed several opportunities for hilarious blog posts already this year.  Let's see, there was the Golden Globes - the fashion disasters and odd speeches were enough for two posts!  There was the news of a Kim Kardashian/Kanye West baby - a sure sign the world must be coming to an end.  And speaking of baby bumps - all of Britain (and, inexplicably, America) were on the edge of their seats trying to catch a glimpse of Princess (Duchess?) Kate's new baby bump.  But all of it pales in comparison to my family's third trip to Disney World.

Okay, maybe the Kim and Kanye baby is a bigger deal than what's taking place in my small section of the world (I mean, can you imagine the level of confidence that kid will have??), BUT, there is something about Disney that just brings out the kid in everyone and our family has such a great time every time we go.  I must start out by saying that I am not the type of person who usually likes a Disney-type phenomenon.  I am sarcastic and cynical.  I don't get into things like that.  It's hard for me to relax and enjoy something that is, by nature, so ridiculous and over-done.  I like my space.  I like solitude.  I don't like a tremendous amount of heat and humidity.  I loathe large groups and cliches - both of which are a huge part of the lure of Disney.  And yet, I cannot say enough positive things about being there with my family.

The three times we have visited Disney have all been in January.  Since Mike also doesn't like crowds, we figure that that's the time when the fewest amount of people will be there.  (Why should we expose ourselves to a situation that requires that we interact with anyone?!) The weather is cool or, at the very least unpredictable which keeps people away.  It's right after people have spent a bunch of money on Christmas.  Kids are back in school.  It's PERFECT!  The longest lines (with a Fast Pass) have traditionally been only about 30 minutes for us.  That's unheard of during the warmer months.  We stay off property - onto which , I have found, people look down their noses.  But, as I mentioned before, we like our space.  I am not interested in sharing a room with my kids.  I like our occasional spend-the-night parties as much as anyone, but after a long day of traipsing around Disney brushing up against B.O-riddled foreigners, the last thing I want to do is go to sleep with a bony knee crushing my ribs.  So, we stay in a condo off property and have a good amount of space to ourselves for a fraction of what it would cost to get to say, with our heads held high, that we stayed "on property".

Two days before we were scheduled to leave, Kate came down with strep throat.  She was kind of puny and had a headache so, as a precaution, I took her to the pediatrician.  She had no common symptoms of strep so I was shocked that that was the diagnosis.  I was relieved, though, because those antibiotics have my kids feeling better within 24 hours.  So, I felt as though she would be in the clear by the time we got there.  Unfortunately, the day we left for Orlando, Meg began coughing and becoming feverish.  Her symptoms were completely different from Kate's and she was, in fact, much worse.  Kate had a mild fever.  Meg was burning up.  She was so stopped up that she couldn't breathe.  She was miserable.  I felt so sorry for her.  We used almost an entire box of Kleenex on her on the ride down.  She was squirting baby nose drops every couple of hours to try and bring some relief, but there really was none.  I was able to get a prescription called in for her, but it took her a lot longer to get over it. 

I really think Meg's issues were related to a cold and not strep.  The reason I know this is because I eventually caught it from Meg.  She started the week miserable, and that's how I ended the week.  Good health was not on our side.  But I have to say that both girls, while they felt pretty crummy, really rallied and did not allow it to interfere with their ability to enjoy Disney and have a good attitude about being there while sick.  Because of their resilience, I was forced to also rally when what I really wanted to do was sleep - uninterrupted - for about a day and a half.  But they didn't complain, so neither could I.  They were very good examples to me and I was grateful for it.  I also had Mike's voice playing in my head for much of the trip.  Early in our marriage, something had happened - can't remember now - but he commented that he was impressed that I hadn't let it get to me and was able to enjoy whatever it was we were doing despite the bad circumstances.  Since then, I have done everything possible to keep up the illusion that I am a "trooper" when, in actuality, nothing could be further from the truth. 

At any rate, this was our first trip in which our children understood that the characters were simply that: characters.  They knew that it wasn't really Snow White that hugged them, but someone pretending to be her.  (That's not really the Mad Hatter; just a perv in a costume who makes money by hugging children.)  And the way I figure it, most of the people in the costumes have to be men.  I mean, obviously the princesses are women, but how would it be if your child hugged Mickey Mouse and felt a pair of breasts rub against them?  Wouldn't they think that odd?  So, who knows who is  really underneath all of the costumes.  Doesn't matter really.  That's the magic of Disney!

Our trip differed in another way as well.  Kate was hungry for adventure.  Up until this trip, we had gone on rides like Dumbo that are kid-friendly.  This time, she labeled these as "boring" and went after every roller coaster she could ride due to her height.  She even made me ride Everest which is a scary-ass roller coaster at Animal Kingdom.  The ONLY reason I rode it was because I really don't want to pass along my fears (both the rational {sharks} and the irrational {the roller coaster is going to fly off the track and crash into a crowd of people and probably a shark will swim over and kill me}) to my children.  I want them to be curious and adventurous with a healthy dose of caution.  I don't have a healthy dose of caution.  I am as cautious as a mo-fo.  It's kind of a problem.

I worried that the trip would be "totally lame" to her and that she would be able to convince Meg that it wasn't as great as we all remembered it.  To my surprise and delight, as we got out of the car that first day, Meg held my hand and skipped all the way to the monorail.  I don't even know if she was aware she was doing it.  I looked ahead at Mike and Kate and realized that Kate was doing the exact same thing.  She was pulling her daddy's arm as she skipped off trying to get there as fast as she could.  I was getting a little weepy and we weren't even in the damn park yet!  They both had the Mickey ears on as they raced toward the action.  They hugged the princesses and characters (sweaty pervs) and acted like it was their very first trip. 

I don't know what it is about that place.  It's the happiest place I've ever seen.  They obviously have made an art out of tourism.  Everything runs smoothly with probably thousands of employees with a, "Have a magical day!" at the ready.  The shows are impressive.  The grounds are clean.  The lines are controlled.  They've got it down pat.  We have never had a bad experience there.  Our kids love it.  We love it.  It truly is a "magical" place.

Below is a picture I took during our first trip.  It is of Kate watching a show where Maleficent, the evil queen from the Sleeping Beauty story, shows up in a huge puff of smoke.  This perfectly encapsulates the magic.  See for yourself.

And this was Kate and her sister this year.  Not much has changed.

Everyone needs to take their kids at least one time to experience it.  It is truly one of our family's treasured memories.

Guilt

Question: What is one thing that all mothers share regardless of age, race, creed, (gender doesn't count here, right?  We are all mothers.), religion, yada, yada, yada?

I suppose I've already tipped my hand by titling this post "Guilt".  But yes, guilt, is the correct answer. Every mother I've ever known has had it.  Mommy Guilt they call it.  It's a real, actual thing and regardless of whether you work or stay at home, volunteer at the school, go to every ballet practice or soccer game, you have it.  I've not yet met a mother who doesn't feel guilty about something.  There is some comfort for me in knowing that I'm not the only one, but over time, I find that there are way too many things to feel guilty about.  I find that I am devoting entirely too much time feeling guilty.  It seems like what little time is left after doing all of the things that cause me to feel guilt in my parenting and my life in general is spent feeling guilty about doing those things.  (Did you follow that?)  

So what kinds of things are we mothers feeling guilty about?  Plenty.  Here are some examples of the guilt I, personally, felt this past week.

For starters, I got annoyed because I was having to ask Kate to do something for the fourth time with no response from her.  So, I did what any other patient and loving mother would do.  I raised my voice to her.  Okay, I barked at her.  Yelled.  I didn't say anything mean.  But I did yell and it scared her because normally we laugh and joke and I can get a response without having to see that kind of childish behavior (coming from me, mind you, not her).  So I experienced Lost Temper Guilt. 

I allowed my children to have canned, sodium-filled chicken noodle soup for dinner twice last week. because a. they like it and b. (and more importantly) it's easy.  Not exactly steering them toward sound nutrition.  Plus, when you consider the McDonald's I had let them have last week as well, I realized I was experiencing Contributing to America's Obesity Problem Guilt. 

One night this week, I put my kids to bed as I usually do - together in the same room.  They have been doing this for a couple of years now and I love it so much.  I think it is so sweet that they sleep together in the same room when they each have their own bedroom.  However, Kate is getting older (well, they both are I suppose) and wanting to sleep by herself which I know will devastate her very dependent sister.  At any rate, It was the end of the day and my tank was beyond empty.  They were arguing over how light their nightlight should be.  Kate likes it dark; Meg light.  I told them they needed to "compromise" and work it out themselves.  Of course, neither of them knows what it means to "compromise" and I didn't bother to explain what the word means.  Instead, I got madder and madder at Meg's unreasonable (yet totally normal) fear of the dark and Kate's inflexibility.  I told them just to work it out.  Laissez Faire Parenting Guilt.  After an hour, they were still cracking and uncracking the door and neither of them were even close to being asleep.  Well played, Mama.  Well played.

I spend a good deal of time on the computer.  I used to be on it all day at work - back when I was an important cog in the wheel of something other than American Girl trivia.  So I am used to checking my email.  Now, I look at the headlines - Have they released that poor hostage in Alabama?  What is up with this crazy weather?  Al Roker did WHAT at the White House?!  I check Facebook.  As time-wasting and intelligence-depleting as Facebook is, I guess I do have a certain addiction to it.  I can't help but get sucked in to the Praying for So-And-So pages that my friends "like".  I end up reading all kinds of depressing stories that concern people I've never known or will ever know.  Yet, I have to know and understand their plight so I can feel awful for them and be thankful for my own family's good health.  I also suffer from an uncontrollable urge to comment on things.  If I think it is funny, I simply cannot help myself but to post it under your picture or status update.  The problem is, I do this instead of spending time with my precious children who I quit my job for in order to stay home and be a "present" mother to. 

I didn't realize my Facebook use was as frequent as it apparently is until I read a recent school journal entry from Kate.  The question to which she was supposed to reply was something about what does Santa do when he's not busy Santa-ing.  Kate wrote a detailed essay about how he interacts with his elves, eats dinner with Mrs. Claus and checks his Facebook page.  The only reason she knows what Facebook is, is because Mama spends an exorbitant amount of time on it.  This is a phenomenon known as Ignoring Your Children In Favor of Absolute Drivel Guilt.  This is also known simply as Facebook Guilt. 

Further, when she completed an assignment where she was to name characteristics of her mother, two words/phrases she used were "lazzy" and "takes naps".  Now, she didn't know that "lazy" carries with it a rather negative connotation, but she couldn't even spell it right,  Perhaps if her mother would quit napping, she could help her spell words like "lazy".  Napping Too Frequently Guilt.  She did say I was "nice" so there's that...  That was obviously before I yelled at her.

I have been getting emails all week about the girls' Valentine parties at school. I've done nothing to contribute to either party. This is why I stayed home from work -  to be an involved parent - and I have no idea what's being planned, what's been done, and what I need to do. Part of the issue is that I've gotten so many emails about all of it that I can't keep them all straight. How did I ever manage 450+ employees before? I used to get easily over 100 emails a day and now the 6 that I get today that aren't junk totally confound me.  In fairness to me, I've been sick.  I've been unable to shake this stupid cold I have and I have had no energy at all.  I must say though, I'm a little concerned that I am using this cold as a convenient excuse to be lazy.  True Colors Guilt.  I'm A Lazy Sack Of Crap Guilt.

You know, now that I'm thinking about it, guilt may not be limited to just mothers.  I am just now realizing that I've never met a woman who doesn't feel guilty about things she is doing or things she hasn't done or things she may do at some point.  Heck, women feel guilt about things over which they have absolutely no control.    Right now, I am having a self-conscious thing about the bags and dark circles under my eyes.  I know Mike has noticed.  AND, I'm turning 40 this year so I feel like it'sall anhyone can see when they look at me.  I Apologize For Actually Aging Guilt. My face may be haggard, but I will say that I'm probably in the best shape Ive ever been in (which, sadly, isn't saying a lot).  I am exercising at least four days a week and I am eating better.  More lean protein; more fiber.  Which, of course, leads to the worst thing for a marriage.  Flatulence Guilt. 

But, why am I feeling all of this guilt?  Other people in this house do things that they should feel plenty guilty about.  Take Dudley, our elderly Jack Russell Terrier.  He pees in the house AT LEAST twice a day.  Guess who has to clean it up?  Yep.  Me.  He doesn't appear to feel bad about it at all.

Mike disrobes at night before going to bed and leaves his clothes wherever they fall - usually right in the path to the bathroom.  He has to literally step over them in the morning.  Which he does.  Without moving them.  They are left for me.  Or for him if I decide to stand my ground and not move them.  But how long can I go with a pair of men's underpants on my floor for the world to see?  Not long.  I usually move them.  Where is his guilt? 

And don't get me started on the girls.  They make messes.  They spill food.  They are loud when I need them to be quiet.  It's like they are children for crying out loud!  Why don't they feel bad about that?  Ugh.  So frustrating.  Frustrated That My Kids Are Kids Guilt.  I mean, what gives? 

Of course, when I get really frustrated with Mike he does something very sweet for me and I experience I Am Such A Bitch Guilt.  And when my kids frustrate me to the end of all reason, I take a step back and realize that one day all of that noise and mess in the room will be gone.  Not Thankful Enough For What I Have Guilt.  And poor Dudley.  He'll be 16 this year.  He's on a limited time budget with us.  He was my firstborn.  I have been his Mama for almost 16 years and I can't clean up a little tee-tee?  PETA Is Gonna Douse Me In Paint Guilt.

Sadly, this post is pointless as I do not have the cure for all of this guilt.  Part of reconciling it is admitting you have a problem, right?  And perhaps part of overcoming guilt is recognizing what it is, when it rears its head, and what you'd be missing if you didn't have the things in your life that bring it on.  Deep Thought Guilt.

So all of you moms and women out there, relax.  Ease up on yourself and know you are doing the best you can.  Everyone ends up in therapy at some point anyway, right?  Moms just help their kids - daughters especially - get there faster.  Your Best Will Never Be Good Enough Guilt.  Enjoy what you have when you have it.  Most of us have more than we could have ever dreamed we would have.

Crappy Post Guilt.  My apologies.




 

Must. Have.Wine.

At the risk of sounding like a self-promoting ego maniac, I'd like to direct your attention toward this book written by a new friend of mine, Leah Speer and her writing partner Katrina Epp.  Great stories about motherhood - some poignant, some funny - all relatable.  I was lucky enough to have a story chosen for it and am luckier still to have read the words of other moms who are trying to the best by their kids every day.  Following is a link:

http://www.amazon.com/Must-Have-Wine-Toast-Motherhood/dp/0615716792/ref=lh_ni_t

UGH Boots

This holiday season, I have been having a battle with myself. The good news is that since it is a situation of me versus me, I've won.  The bad news is; I've also lost.  When I lay out the details for you, it will seem extremely shallow and ridiculous but hopefully you'll come to understand my quandary and why I was at war with myself. 

You see, for Christmas, I had decided to get both of my daughters a pair of Ugg boots.  Let me give you some background on my experience with Uggs.  They are a fantastic shoe.  We all know from previous posts that I am no fashion plate.  But please believe me when I say that I was one of the first people I know to own a pair of Uggs.  I don't point this out in order to brag; I am simply stating a fact.  Now, this was in the days before the Ugg boot craze.  The shoes I had (my then-boyfriend-now-husband had them too) were not the boots but rather some clog-ish comfy shoes.  No one had ever heard of Uggs and there they were, on my feet.  Fast forward a few years and everywhere you go, people are wearing them - this time in boot form.  Did I start a trend?  Well, most likely, yes.  It's what I do.  That's an obvious joke for those of you who have had the misfortune of peering into my closet.  But I say that because I need you to understand that I was not an Ugg bandwagoner (bandwagoner is totally a word).

Fast forward a few more years and now not only is everyone wearing these boots, but now everyone's kids are wearing these boots.  And my six year old really, REALLY wants a pair.  She has asked me simply for "boots" for Christmas - but I know which ones she means.  All of her friends have them.  All of her friends' friends have them.  They are everywhere.  So, I decided that I would get her and her sister a pair.  They are very cute boots and go with practically everything.  They will both get plenty of wear out them which is important because of the price.  Speaking of price, when I looked into it, I was shocked at how much they cost.  The ones I had owned over ten years ago were almost $100 so I should have guessed their value would have increased with the years.  But I figured buying them in children's sizes would shave some off of the price.  Perhaps it does, but not nearly enough.

These shoes are $120 dollars at minimum.  I couldn't wrap my mind around spending that kind of money on a pair of shoes that would look new for the 10 seconds it would take to put them on for the very first time.  As soon as my kids would have them on their feet they'd be scuffed, muddied, stained, and more or less ruined and I would be kicking myself for spending that much money.  My father refers to decisions of that nature as "throwing money up a hog's ass".

So, bearing that in mind, I began to look for other brands.  Off-brands.  Knock-offs.  I had a friend who told me that a local shop had Emu brand (very similar in style and quality to Uggs) on big-time sale.  She told me that they were practically giving them away.  In a dramatic fashion, she just said "75".  Wow!  75% off?  Sold!  I arrived at the store only find out that the big-time sale price was actually $75.00.  Not low enough.  So, I pressed on.  I decided that I would wait until Black Friday to try and find some decently priced Uggs.  Of course, I wouldn't dare to go near any store on Black Friday but I knew these chains would also have good sales online.  So, that day, I trolled around several sites and found some Uggs for right around $100.  At a few different sites, I got as far as placing them in my cart, but I was just never able to pull the trigger.  I decided to wait until Cyber Monday when the really good online deals would save me even more money.

Cyber Monday came and went with the same result - getting far enough to put Uggs in my cart, but never willing to actually make the purchase.  Perhaps there would be some kind of Totally Marked Down Tuesday deal or Why Waste All Of Your Money Wednesday in the near future where I could find some brilliant deal that no one else was offering and that the general public was not aware of.  In between almost buying all of these pairs of Uggs, I also went to sites that had boots that looked exactly like Uggs but were a fraction of the price.  I went through the same routine of very nearly purchasing those, and then backing down.  Why?  Well, because I wanted my kids to have Uggs.  Uggs are what everyone wears.  Ugg is the recognizable brand.  Uggs are what their friends have.  Non-Uggs might get them teased.  Emus wouldn't.  Or some other acceptable brand that would be priced comparably to Uggs.  But non-Uggs - non-expensively labeled shoes - would.

I can remember as a kid when Reebok high-tops were the hot shoe (please don't do the math).  I really liked the looks of them and ended up in a shoe store with my mother where she was kind enough to buy a pair for me.  What I didn't realize at the time, was that the store we were in was a local store called Kenney's.  Kenney's was a shoe store with shoes that looked exactly like name brands but were not.  So, we bought my high-tops and I wore them proudly.  Unbeknownst to me, they weren't the right ones because they weren't Reeboks.  Once that was brought to my attention by a classmate, I didn't like my beloved shoes anymore.  The only thing that had changed about them was that I knew that the appropriate label wasn't on them.  And I didn't want them anymore.  What I had liked about them from the beginning was the style - the high-tops.  What I now didn't like about them was the 1/8" label that was missing from them - a label I didn't realize was even supposed to be there in the first place.

Of course I was a kid and that's what kids do.  Kids worry if they don't have the right clothes and the right friends and the right "things".  Kids don't realize that "labels don't matter".  But wait.  I'm no longer a kid and apparently they still do.  If they didn't, I would have run screaming from the Uggs and just bought the first attractive knock-offs I could find.  I decided to search again, for what had to be the 49th time, to find a good pair of these boots that were now becoming my Captain Ahab-like obsession.  And lo, I found a pair of Emus that had been marked down.  I had also come across an online coupon so I got even more off of the price.  I was able to find expensive boots at a really good price.  So, I didn't have to compromise my standards by paying too much for a pair of boots that my kids would surely ruin.  And I also didn't have to stoop to the depths of buying the "wrong" kind of boot for my kids.  Their reputations would remain (in this instance) intact.  A Christmas miracle!

A few days passed and then I experienced that sweet, sweet sound of my doorbell ringing after hearing a large truck; a delivery truck; come to a stop in front of my house.  My awesome finds had arrived!  I happily trotted the package upstairs and carefully opened the box.  I needed to be sure the sizes I had chosen online were going to work.  When I pulled each pair from the box, the first thing I noticed was a very big, very bright pink and black label on the back of each shoe. 

It didn't say Emu. 

And because the label was black and pink, it was practically flashing "THESE ARE NOT UGGS OR EMUS BUT SOME WEIRDO BRAND".  My heart sank.  I had visions of my kids getting the crap beaten out of them by the monkey bars - the other kids having ripped their off-brand shoes off of their feet and using them as weapons.  I was going to have to return them and just throw my hands up in defeat and spend $120 on boots for a five and six year old.  I even went back online to look at original order.  The "Emu" I had spotted when placing the order was not the label but the type of fur used in the lining of the boots.  I began searching for information about how to do a return.  But I thought about it.  I worried about it.  I wondered what kind of message it would send to my children if I decided to go this route.  Of course, they would have no idea about all of this inner-turmoil.  All they would see would be the boots they had asked to receive as a Christmas gift.  They wouldn't even notice the label or think anything about what it carried with it. 

But I would know.

I would know that I made a decision based on my perception of what others would think if they noticed that my kids had the wrong boots.  I would know that I spent what I considered to be an unreasonable amount of money on shoes for my children given how they treat many of their belongings and how rough they are on their shoes.  I would know that the "right label" was more important than making a good decision for me.  And I would know that I had failed them.  How would this translate later on?  If they treated someone badly because they weren't popular or cool, would I be okay with that?  Absolutely not.  Even though this was a situation involving a shoe, the theme of regarding labels or brand names or whatever you want to call it as paramount would most certainly carry over into other aspects of their lives.  So, I knew I needed to set a good example for them and choose to get them a perfectly good pair of shoes that was priced within a range I felt was appropriate for them.  I kept the shoes I had ordered.  My kids will be happy to get them.

Please understand, this post is not an indictment on people who have purchased this particular brand of shoe for their child(ren).  What people choose to do is not my concern and I am sure they had better reasons than mine for buying them.  They are terrific shoes - excellent quality and very nice looking.  Once it became clear to me however, that I was only looking at the Uggs because they were UGGS, I knew it wasn't right for me to get them.  If I had purchased them, I think it somehow would perpetuate in my children the belief that the shoes are more important than the quality of the person wearing them.  I pride myself on not being that way, so it was a blow to me to realize that it took so much energy and effort to make what should have been a very simple decision. 

All of this over a damn pair of boots.  What on earth am I going to do when it's time to get a car?!!

Christmas Tizzy

Well, it's been a little while since my last post.  The main reason is because I'm in my annual how-the-heck-is-it-Christmas-already tizzy.  I had intended to write a post about all that I am thankful for during Thanksgiving, but that is now a distant memory.  I'm still thankful for all of those things I would have told you about, but I just don't have time to get into all of it.  Just know that I am a very thankful and grateful person.  K?

We did have a nice Thanksgiving.  Mike and I started the day by running in the Turkey Trot here in Chattanooga.  I'm not sure why we've never done that before.  It was a fabulous idea - it completely erased all guilt I had about gorging myself on turkey and dressing later in the day.  Also, it was the first race I had run that was more than a 5k.  This was 5 miles.  I had never done that before so I was proud that I hit my goal - to complete it inside 48 minutes.  My actual time was 48:53 so I did it by the skin of my teeth.  Of course, my friend Lara who ran with Mike and me had finished the race and read War And Peace by the time I crossed the finish line.  But I was still proud of my accomplishment.  Baby steps.

At any rate, I allowed that race to assuage the guilt I would have felt for my Thanksgiving dinner, the chips and dip I had with my turkey sandwich later that evening, the sausage biscuit I had the next morning, the spaghetti I ate Friday night, the steak nachos I inhaled at lunch the next day, the chili I ate with Fritos Scoops during the (gut-wrenching) Iron Bowl and the leftover-chili cheese and onion hot dogs - with more chips and dip! - I had for dinner Sunday.  Yep,  Thanks goodness I ran Thursday morning.  Otherwise I could have been a total cow.

So, Thanksgiving came and went and now we are in the so-called hustle and bustle of Christmastime.  It has taken me almost the two weeks that have passed since Thanksgiving to drag all of my Christmas decorations out of storage and put them up so that my house can be properly bedazzled.  Poor Mike just shakes his head every time he notices a new wreath or other ornament perched on something that was previously uncovered.  It's time once again for him to suffer through my love of Christmas and my Nazi-like approach to decoration and tradition.  I spent a lot of time last year describing all of that, so I won't put you through it again.  Plus, who has the time?

In my attempts to get the house decorated, I have not been able to find time to do what is perhaps even more important - keeping the house clean.  There must be a 1/2 inch layer of dust on every piece of furniture.  It's thick enough to be noticeable but unfortunately not thick enough to be assumed to be decorative Christmas snow.  It looks awful.  And our aging dog keeps peeing and pooping in my dining room; sometimes multiple times a day; so our home fragrance is a mixture of Frasier Fir and feces.  A lovely combination to mark this festive season.  So, I do get to clean that up everyday, but have not yet managed to dust, vacuum or mop.  Which is pretty gross considering there is canine waste where my family eats.  (I do clean that up with a vinegar mixture so don't be too disgusted.)

I did find some time yesterday to sweep and vacuum the floors.  Kate wanted to help which is so sweet.  So sweet but also very inconvenient because I can do it better and faster.  But, I have to encourage her to continue to want to help me and I want to reward the fact that she is nice enough to offer, so I let her.  Within five minutes of "helping" she managed to knock over my 32 ounce jug of water which had been full at the time.  She felt so bad and was so discouraged.  I felt so sorry for her.  I assured her that it was okay - that it was only water and totally not a big deal - but of course, now I had 32 ounces of water to clean up. Aaah, kids.

In addition to trying to find time to clean my house, yesterday I had agreed to bake 4 dozen cookies for Teacher Appreciation day which is being held Friday.  So, I went to the store and got all of my ingredients and came home to begin the process.  I could have just gone to a bakery, but I opted to make them myself. One, making them was going to be cheaper than buying them.  And two, I really like these cookie bars I make.  Selfishly, I wanted to make more than what was required so that we could keep some and enjoy them over the weekend.  So, I went about beginning the process only to discover that I had failed to buy a key ingredient at the store.  This happens to me ALL THE TIME.  My friend Amber will chuckle at this as she is normally the one I call when I am making macaroni and cheese but have forgotten the macaroni or chicken and dumplings but have no chicken.   I couldn't call her because each batch calls for one stick of butter and one stick of margarine (they are super healthy).  Who has that much butter and margarine lying around?  So I got to go to Wal-Mart for the second time yesterday which is the perfect opposite of a Christmas miracle.

I loathe going to Wal-Mart.  I was there the other day (of course, since it is a daily or sometimes twice-daily adventure for me) and was reminded of how much I hate it.  I was in line in the 20 Items Or Less lane behind an obese woman on a motorized scooter who clearly had more than 20 items, four of which were cans of FDS.  I've complained about these products before and about having the visual of people using them so I won't get on that soap (or FDS) box again.  But I will say that had she not inconsiderately gotten in the wrong line, I wouldn't have had to witness that and wonder what kind of horror was going on with her nether regions.  So, maybe it's not Wal-Mart that I loathe but people.

Anyway, on my return trip to Wal-Mart I passed yet another Salvation Army bell ringer.  This guy didn't realize I had been there earlier in the day and dropped my change into the bucket.  He also didn't realize that I am there EVERY day and have already contributed quite a lot.  Nor is he aware that everywhere I have been in the past two weeks I have been asked to donate a canned good or a dollar or a book or a coat or a toy or a meal - all of which I have done.  Now, despite what these blogs and my tone may suggest, I am a caring person and do have a compassionate and charitable heart.  But I am constantly giving, giving, giving because what else am I going to do?

"Would you like to donate a holiday meal to a family who can't afford one?"

What am I going to say?

"No, thanks."

"Would you like to give money to go toward the purchase of coats for children who do not have them this winter?"

"Well, it's really not been that cold so far, so no."

Of course I'm going to give those things.  And of course I'll do it this time of year because I love Christmas and I can't stand the thought of people not having a Christmas of their own to celebrate.  But when you get asked everywhere you go, it begins to add up.  And when you've been to Wal-Mart twice in one day and you can sense the judging stare of the bell ringer as you walk by pretending to talk to someone on your cellphone so you'll have a good enough reason to just walk right past him, you begin to feel like not that great a person.  On second thought, after re-reading this, I think maybe I'm not that great a person.

So this is what the pre-Christmas tizzy is like for me.  Once it is all over I'll be all sad and nostalgic and wonder where it all went.  I need to just breathe and not let it get too overwhelming and stressful.  Writing this post has been fairly therapeutic for me and I hope that reading it hasn't been too disturbing for you.  I can get up now and see about attacking the dust that remains on my furniture.  But before that, from what I am hearing in the next room, it sounds like I'll be cleaning dog-vomit off of my bed.  'Tis the season...

Picture Perfect

Yesterday was the worst day of 2012.  How so, you ask?  It was the day I designated "Christmas Card Picture Day" at the McCallie house.  Within the last ten months, I've gotten two nice, news lenses for my camera.  I got both lenses after seeing the incredible pictures my brother was taking.  He helped Mike find them to give to me as gifts.  There was just one thing that Mike didn't purchase when he got me these lenses.  Talent.  The reason my brother's pictures are so good is that he has an eye and a talent for picture taking.  He's also one of those photographers who frequently adjusts shutter speed and changes his white balance and things of that nature.  He understands his camera and what it can do.  I just point and click.  With seemingly disastrous results.

But it wasn't just the quality that was lacking.  Oh, it was lacking alright.  I'll get to that in a minute.  The bigger issue was that by the time it was all over, I wanted to disown my children.  If you read my last post, you saw me gushing over them and trying to bottle their enthusiasm.  If their enthusiasm had been in a bottle yesterday, I would have thrown it onto the pavement so it would shatter into millions of teeny, tiny little pieces.  If you read that post, you know I love them dearly.  But I wasn't feeling the love yesterday.  AT ALL.

I thought I had planned it perfectly.  It was a gorgeous day.  Sunny.  Fall colors bursting all around us.  I had both of them shower so they'd have nice, clean hair.  I had done the laundry earlier in the day so their little outfits were clean, wrinkle-free and coordinated.  I had even scouted out a location in the neighborhood.  Pretty wildflowers.  Fall leaves in the background.  A couple of waterfalls.  Very picturesque.  What could possibly go wrong?  Well, for starters, the girls and I showed up.  It pretty much went downhill after that.

In an effort to avoid an ugly incident, I told the girls before we left that I had remembered last year's photo shoot and how badly it went and that my expectation was they this year's would be different.  Well, it was different.  It was actually worse.  Last year, Kate goofed off the whole time and made silly faces every time the photographer tried to take a nice shot.   I was getting so angry with her because her sister was always perfectly posed with a sweet smile.  If Kate had just cooperated, we could have been done in 15 minutes.  But no, she is exactly like I was as a kid so she was intent on ruining every shot with an idiotic expression on her face.  I know that I must have threatened her with spankings at least four times during that hour-long shoot.  I was certainly embarrassed by her ridiculous behavior but was also embarrassed by my own in front of the photographer.  It was just all so stressful.  With photo shoots, you get whatever you get.  You only have the time the photographer is present to get whatever pictures you're going to get.  And during the time she was there, Kate was acting like she had eaten 216 doughnuts shortly before the girl arrived to take the pictures.  I decided during that experience that I would be the one to take the pictures for the next year's card.

So, here we were, roughly a year later.  I was actually confident when we drove up to our scenic location - stupidly confident it turns out.  I had explained my expectations and felt as though they clearly understood what kind of behavior I was looking for.  They would be the perfect little children I was raising and obey my orders with and diligence and reverence.  Once we got out of the vehicle however, Kate immediately ran off almost completely out of earshot.  I hadn't even gotten the camera out of my car and she had already spazzed out.  And Meg was pretty much jammed up my rear end - a tactic she has adopted to try and win favor with me if her sister is misbehaving. 

"I stayed with you, Mama, isn't that so good?" 

"Kate ran off but I did what you asked me to do, right, Mama?"

Yes, you little brown-noser, that's correct.  Anyway, I called after Kate and demanded she come back up to a nice spot in front of some flowers.  She did, so I felt myself calming down.  She walked right up to Meg and I asked them to look natural.  Well, of course, they don't know what that means - how to look "natural".  Every time you take a child's picture they are begged to smile so they don't know how to stand there and not have a phony grin plastered across their face.

I asked for a few different poses.

Hold Hands. 
Goes reasonably well.  They can do that.  Whew!

Put your arms around each other.
Kate puts Meg in a stranglehold.  Meg screams at her sister.  I scream at Kate.

Sit down back-to-back.
That means don't face each other.
That means looks away from each other and touch backs.
They finally get the pose, but since both kids have been cursed with my deplorable posture, they are both completely slumped over their legs.

Straight backs!
Kate slumps further.

Tall backs like in ballet.
Meg raises her shoulders as though she's in a Broadway musical having to over-emote the act of shrugging.  At the same time, her eyes get really wide and her eyebrows almost touch the top of her hairline.

Relax and just kind of lean your backs into each other.
Kate flops back onto Meg so that Meg's chin is in the mulch.

I decided to try a new location.  Every time I found a nice spot, the sun was such that it was directly in their eyes if they had their backs to some nice background scenery.  I tried the ol' keep-your-eyes-closed-until-I-count-to-three-and-then-open-them-and-smile routine, but you can just imagine how those shots turned out.

I found a shady place and made a couple of adjustments to my camera so the pictures wouldn't be too dark.  We tried the back-to-back thing again (because apparently I like chaos), this time with better results.  I think I only had to yell 5-6 times (in the spirit of the holidays...).  The main problem with this particular set-up was the precision of my lens.  I didn't really notice it until I got home and uploaded the shots to my computer, but there were several weeds in the area.  One in particular was positioned right in the foreground of the shot.  Therefore, I have 17 pictures of this perfectly crisp tall, gangly weed with my two fuzzy children in the background.  The lens captured every crease and dew drop of that weed.  It's really quite lovely.  It's just not quite what I had in mind for our Christmas card.  ("Weed" wish you a merry Christmas anyone?)

After my inadvertent nature shoot, we moved to an area on some nice big rocks with the girls' backs to a waterfall.  By this time, we had probably been at this thing for at least 30-45 minutes so the girls were really past their threshold for good behavior.  I can't really blame them.  I guess I should say that I shouldn't really blame them.  To say I "cant" blame them gives off the impression that I didn't blame them which I absolutely did.

Kate started up with her crazy faces again and so an eager-to-please Meg joined right in (I guess this time she was eager to please Kate and not her Mama).  When they would finally calm down, something would happen like Kate would step in front of Meg accidentally or Meg would sneeze.  At no point were both girls looking in the same direction at the same time with both eyes open and a decent expression on their face.  If ever there was a time for a Christmas miracle, this was it.

Also hindering this process was the fact that somehow between last year's shoot and this one, Meg has forgotten how to smile.  Meg is actually quite photogenic.  But, I have no idea what she was trying to accomplish yesterday.  It was like a scared robot doing an impression of Jack Nicholson's "Joker".  She was completely stiff and unnatural.  She looked ridiculous.  So on the off chance that Kate actually had a nice expression on her face instead of her best Phyllis Diller impression, Meg looked like a deer in headlights.  A drunk deer.

At the end of it all, none of these things ended up mattering.  The quality of the pictures I took just wasn't up to par.  I mentioned my encounter with the weed, but I also never did get my settings right for the light I was in.  I was so annoyed when I uploaded the images to my computer because even if I had gotten one decent shot (I didn't), I'd have to Photoshop the crap out of it to make it usable.  So on top of being angry with my rambunctious children, I was depressed that I have these nice lenses and no immediate talent for using them.  I do have an appointment with a photographer on December 2nd, but I was hoping to be done with my cards by then.  I guess now she will have to witness me losing my patience all over again just as she did last year.  This means, of course, that my Christmas cards will go out late this year since I likely won't even have proofs back until at least a week after that.  So, until then, please enjoy some of my favorites from yesterday. 

*I deleted the glorious shots of the weed before I had the idea to turn this into a post, so you won't get to experience the beauty and splendor that I captured.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

God bless us everyone.