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If you are a girl and you love shoes than we have something in common. For me, it used to be more important for the perfect shoe to look great, than to be comfortable. I have squished my foot into a much too narrow shoe and wore way too high of heals just because the shoes accented my outfit perfectly. The older I get the less I care. Maybe because now, I have children to buy shoes for, this leaves fewer dollars in my account to spend on myself. Recently, I became aware that a shoe fetish could start very early.  On a girl’s trip to Target I was amused to see my daughter’s and niece go into the direction of the shoes. They didn’t care they were in the woman’s section. Their eyes lit up and smiles spread across their face quicker than flowing water fills a crack. Expressions of oohs and awes rapidly poured from their mouths. Before I knew it, boxes were being pulled off the shelf and these pint-sized girls were trying on shoes ten sizes too big. Each of them had their own idea of spectacular. My youngest daughter immediately went for something with a bit of bling –bling. A flat shoe with shiny pink sequence and a tiny bow were her favorite pair. She didn’t care that they were strapped together by that impossible piece of plastic. She worked those shoes the best her tiny body could. My oldest daughter opted for the high heel. It was definitely a pair that grabbed my attention. I didn’t know whether to laugh because she had my taste or to cry because she walked better in them than me. Okay, maybe not better but surprisingly well for a seven year old. My niece was a bit more conservative and picked a pair of black ballet flats. Her taste in shoes was very simple, much like herself. You could tell a lot about a person from the shoes they wear. Are they exciting and like to take risks?  Perhaps, the risk-takers choose the high heels-it’s about being a head above the rest. To take the heels off means you come down to the average level, and that is not interesting enough. A simple shoe may indicate a laid-back person. The easygoing person who doesn’t need much to be happy. They don’t take life or themselves too seriously. Maybe the person who chooses the shoes decorated in bling- bling wants to be noticed. I am not a psychiatrist but I know the personalities of my daughters and my niece. And they picked the perfect shoes to match their essence. Today, my youngest daughter did something hysterical. Her aunt gave her a brand new pair of boots and she was anxious to get them on. After watching her prance around the kitchen showing her shoes with attitude I noticed something did not look right. I unzipped the boot to find the cardboard insert still tucked inside. She opted for looking great rather than comfort. My girls may never truly walk in my shoes but  I see a little bit of me in both of them. I hope the shoes they choose leave footprints to be admired.

Thirteen Things about MaribethHalloween is approaching and I have costumes on the brain. I have always loved to think of costume idea’s, I usually start thinking the day after Halloween what the next years will be. I came from a family of seven and Halloweens most consisted of Hand-Me-Downs or homemade costumes. The homemade ones were always my favorite and my parents did a great job at creating interesting get-ups. Tonight I am writing thirteen costumes I could remember wearing.

1…Gypsy-Loved,Loved,Loved this costume (so much that my daughter is being a gypsy/fortune teller this year) My mother wrapped a scarf around my head, dressed me, in a long black printed skirt, wrapped a shawl around my shoulders and gave me a black mask that only covered my eyes. It was my all time favorite.

2…Wizard-Yes I know, I’m a girl but still I made a great Merlin. I think this was a purchased costume. But it was way before Harry Potter existed. Thought the beard was cool.

3…Old Woman-I wore an old dress of my mother’s with a babushka wrapped around my head and some grandma looking loafers. My younger sister was the Old Man. We definitely made a funny pair.

4…Bunny-I remember this costume Hung in a closet in my brother’s room. It was one piece and very comfortable. I used to play dress up with the bunny costume long after Halloween was over.

5…Geisha Girl-My father went to Korea on a business trip and brought us home Kimono’s. I tied my hair up with chopsticks and painted my face white. I’m not even sure if a traditional Geisha wears a white face, I think I just look for reasons to paint my face on Halloween

6…Country Bumpkin-Seniors were able to dress up on Halloween day in my High-School. A friend and I wore straw hats, flannels, boys’ jeans and painted freckles on our face with black eyeliner. Easy costume to put together but definitely sweet and cute.

7…Dorothy-It took me forever to get the shoes right. I carried a stuffed doggie in a basket-I rented this costume.

8…Clown. The classic clown suit with the rainbow colored hair and striped one piece suit. I always love to paint my face for Halloween so this was definitely up my alley

9…Fifty’s Chic-A girlfriend and I wore lettermen jackets and our hair in ponytails. We had one of our guy friends dress in a t-shirt, leather jacket and slicked back hair. We were cool :0

10…Joker-I borrowed this costume from my sister-in-law, I had the jester hat, big shoes and a painted on grin that couldn’t go unnoticed.

11…Skeleton-My sister is very artistic which has come in helpful when looking for a face or a costume to be painted. She took a black sweat suit and painted the bones on it. Head to toe, front to back. I had her paint my face to match and I was set to go.

12…Seventy’s Chic-My husband and I went as a couple from the Seventies. I wore bell bottoms, a really high fur hat, wedged heals and lots of psychedelic make-up. We rocked! :0

13…Hobo-Okay; I’m starting to ask myself why I didn’t dress in more girly like costumes. This was an easy one, I found an old beat up coat, fingerless gloves, a hat with earflaps. a brown bag(for my pretend alcohol)and I painted on a five o’clock shadow and some red cheeks to complete the look.
13…Okay I’m adding a second thirteen because this was the best costume my parents ever came up with and I think it should be mentioned.The costume was made for my younger sister. My father took an old box from a T.V. painted it white and drew black dots on it. She was the cutest dice ever. To complete the look she wore a black beret, black sweatpants and black gloves. Clever,Clever,Clever

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  I love how so many mother’s in the blogging world came up with catchy names for themselves. You have Writer Mama, Tired Mama, Overworked Mama and many more. I asked myself -What catchy name would you call yourself in reference to motherhood. Some brilliant ideas floated through my mind but after yesterday and the incident from last week’s Mommy and Me I came up with my perfect name. I am… Decorated Mama. Before you get the wrong idea, let me explain. I am not crafty, at least not in a conventional way. I am not known for my decor techniques (Believe it or not-my husband is better at that then me). My decorations are not bought and most likely would not be willingly copied. They are decorations that adorn my wardrobe and are always unintended. Whether it is an inconvenient splat, which was yesterday’s decoration or an embarrassing rip that I become aware of while standing amongst a group of people I can guarantee that I am always decorated. My girlfriend calls it Wardrobe Confession; she came up with this clever title after hearing my umpteenth excuse of why there was a stain, rip, drip, or missing button somewhere on my clothing. I try to keep up with fashion I really do, but I have come to accept that as polished as I try to look there is always something lurking, waiting to be seen. I am beginning to think there are invisible elves working very hard at making their selves laugh at my expense. After last week’s episode with the unzipped zipper flapping in the wind I thought that would be it for a while. I was wrong. My two-year old loves to pour the liquid into the dishwasher-which is exactly why I started buying those handy little tablets you just pop in and forget about. I couldn’t pass up the great sale on the liquid this week so instead of my child friendly tablets I opted for the liquid. Yesterday she insisted on filling up the dishwasher. At first I stood behind her proudly. Pride turned to panic as I watched her squirt it all over the door. I quickly grabbed it from her, or should I say wrestled it out of her hands. After enduring a half hour temper tantrum I was relieved when she finally stopped crying.  Because, Decorated Mama was desperate, I bribed her. I promised I would lay on the couch with her and watch Barney. While watching Barney we both dozed off and I couldn’t have been happier. That was, until I realized it was time to pick up my other two children from school. I jumped from the couch, my eyes were sticky and blurred because I fell asleep with my contacts in. The only thing I had time to do was squirt some saline solution in my eyes to moisten them and then I was off. As I was putting the car in park I happened to glance down. Splattered across my left thigh was what looked like white paint. I was confused; I had no idea what it could be. I looked over to my right leg and there it was again. Keep in mind I was wearing black pants. I sat in the car motionless thinking what am I going to do? I can’t go back home, they are being left out any minute. I did what any woman would do in my shoes. I licked my finger and frantically tried to rub the white goop away with spit. It wasn’t working. I had to suck it up and go wait for my kids decorated in …Dishwashing Liquid.  I walked up to the other mothers smiled and went into Wardrobe Confession.

Last week I wrote about how I didn’t win the Writer Mama’s writing contest. I was boo-hooing for a bit and feeling rejected. But today I am woo-hooing it and feeling excited. I just found out I won the September 4th give-away from commenting on the Writer Mama’s blog. I am super-super psyched. The books I won will be of great help and be put to good use, just in time for my birthday. So see, life has a way of turning bad days into good. And today is certainly a good one. Be sure to stop by her blog and maybe you will be the next winner. Let me know how it goes. Thank you to Peggy for commenting and letting me know I won. Keep on Writing, Reading, and doing whatever it is that brings a smile to your face. I will be walking around with my smile. I hear it’s the latest trend. :):):)

I hate yard sales. I don’t hate going to them I hate having them. Every time I have ever attempted to have a yard sale it has been a complete failure. I would go into it with high hopes. I’d count the money in my head long before the first quarter was made. Unfortunately I never made much more than a quarter. Albeit most of the stuff I was hoping to free myself from was clutter, to someone else I knew it could be a find. There was one time I stayed up the whole night organizing my rummage into neat little piles. I had fancy shoes, sporty shoes, hanging about shoes and even cute little comfy never before worn slippers. They were not cheap shoes. Most were bought on a whim to go with one outfit. I really took my time on deciding their prices. I knew if I was going to make a profit the shoes were my best chance. In my mind my prices were reasonable, maybe even a steal. I didn’t mark any of them for more than five bucks even though I paid much more myself. After hours of tagging my shoes, clothes and anything extra I found lying around the house I went to bed with a smile. I was proud of myself for taking the time to make everything presentable. I jumped out of bed in the morning with enthusiasm. The enthusiasm quickly faded when I looked out the window and saw it pouring out. I tried to remain optimistic. Instead of a yard sale I would have a porch sale. After all, my porch was big enough to fit everything I was selling. The second sign of doom was when my three year old nephew ran up onto the porch. He was frantically searching for something kid friendly. He bumped into my Hagar sculptures and broke the head off. It was the most expensive item I had out. I think a person would be a fool to spend fifteen dollars for a piece with a glued on head. The sun came out and I was beginning to get hopeful. Cars were starting to line up and down the street. This was going to be it. I smiled as the people entered through my gate. I politely waved as they exited empty handed. A few women gathered around the shoes but I knew immediately their small frames were more like a size six than my gigantic size nines. One woman seemed to be interested she tried on a few pair and walked around in a circle testing them out. She held up the box and asked, “How much for these.” They were a pair I purchased but never wore. “Five dollars,” I answered. When I saw the look of disgust sweep across her face I felt it necessary to explain they were never worn and still in the original box. I sold those shoes for… a quarter. Today my parents decided they were going to have their yearly yard sale. I had no plans on being a part of it and went over for a visit. It was chaos, visually and mentally. Between my brother and sisters we have seven children. All seven children were at the yard sale. They were shopping amongst the other patrons. That alone puts added stress to the day, try explaining to seven year olds and younger that the things lying across Noni and Nono’s yard are for others to buy not for them. Between hollers of “What will you take for this,” and shouts of “Mom I really want to buy this,” a sane person can easily lose their mind. Moods changed, bickering began and before I knew it there was a family feud. I was at the edge of insanity and then the most hysterical thing happened. A woman called out to my father and asked “How much for these shoes.” He yelled back “Five dollars,” explaining they had a steel toe. “There’s no steel toe”, she replied. He looked puzzled but continued to tell her he spent forty dollars on them and wanted at least five. She set the shoes down and went across to the other side of the yard. “Mar, I didn’t want to sell those shoes,” he whispered. Someone put his new shoes out amongst the sale items. “Do you want me to go get them?” I asked. “Wait until she leaves so it doesn’t look weird,” he replied. In the mean time I got distracted by my two-year old telling me she had to go potty. When I came back outside onto the porch I saw the lady paying my sister for the shoes my father didn’t want to sell. I looked over at him and watched as he watched her walk away with his brand new, pricey New Balance sneakers. He sold the shoes he didn’t want to sell for five dollars and at my yard sale I sold the shoes I had marked for five dollars for a quarter. Life has a funny way of putting a comical moment in at the right time to make the scene a bit lighter. Out of twenty pairs of nice looking shoes out on the lawn the only ones that sold were his.     

Thirteen Things about Maribeth

There’s nothing like smelling a good perfume. I have purchased or received many great fragrances. Today’s thirteen is about perfumes I have owned, loved, or got sick of.

1… Coco Mademoiselle-Chanel (My all time favorite. It is a perfect fall/winter scent-it smells so delicious it is almost edible)

2… Adrienne Vittadini-(Great deep smell, after two bottles I began to think it had more of a masculine smell-but still loved it

3… AV-Adrienne Vittadini (Fresh and cool, loved this one-would definitely buy again-cool bottle(I’m a sucker for a pretty bottle)

4… Extravagance-Givenchy (Fruity and sugary smelling-just a dab of this perfume is more than enough-too much can be overpowering)

5… Black-Kenneth Cole (received as a birthday gift- Initially I thought it was a bit strong but after a while it grew on me and became one of my all time favorites. Hints of citrus-I have been asked what type of shampoo I used when wearing this.

6… Nature-BCBG Girls-(Another fresh smelling scent-I tend to like spicy or fresh. I have received many compliments on this perfume- Hints of tangerine)

7…Sexual Madness-Fragrant Oil (Bought this years ago at a Vendor in the middle of the mall-It was the best smelling oil ever. I kick myself for not stocking up on it and now I cannot find it.

8…Happy-Clinique-Light and Sweet -(liked smell but was disappointed how quickly it wore off)

9…Design-Paul Sebastian-(At one point I loved this perfume so much I would spray it on my robe so it was the first thing I smelled when I got out of the shower-Now it is way too sweet for me, I’m not sure I could wear it again-Maybe I used too much of it I made myself sick of it)

10… Provocative Woman-Elizabeth Arden-(Very Spicy -love the warmth of this smell-it’s definitely a head turning scent)

11…Curve Soul- Liz Claiborne-The bohemian in me loves this scent-Earthy but light-Makes you feel like you have depth

12…Burberry- Great! I got this as a handy-me-down from a friend who had an extra bottle. I was so sad when I used the last spritz

13…Poison…My hubby bought this for me one of our first christmas’s together. As long as you don’t over spray it’s a great winter smell. I would like to purchase this again to see if it brings flashbacks.

What’s your favorite perfume? Any suggestions, I am always up for a new scent. A girl can’t have enough.

1…. Start your list here!

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THIS IS HOW THE GREEN STYLE LOOKS:

Thirteen Things about YOUR NAME

1…. Start your list here!

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I love jewelry. Wait, let me reiterate that statement. I L-O-V-E jewelry. It does not have to be expensive or come from a glass enclosed case but it does have to be interesting. I prefer something unique and eye catching. To me, jewelry is a conversation piece. It is worth wearing if it sparks up a comment, even if the comment isn’t flattering. If a remark is made than it is definite that it caught someone’s attention. You would think a person who loves jewelry as much as I do would be meticulous about its upkeep. Yeah, you would think. Unfortunately this is not me. I start out with the best intentions. I promise myself with each new piece I will take very good care of it. Sort of like a five-year-old begging for a puppy, promising to feed it, walk it and even help with bath time. The puppy comes and the promises get broken almost immediately. It always happens the same way, the first night I remove my jewelry and proudly tuck it away into its safe haven. The jewelry box I begged my husband to buy me so I could take care of my adornments. The second night I’m too tired to walk upstairs to put it all away, but I do anyway because I made a promise. By the third night I take my bracelets off and set them next to my keyboard, assuring myself they will be fine until morning. It’s not until the next morning I curse myself for not putting it away. I hear small pings scattering across the hardwood floor. At first the noise doesn’t register. I dismiss it as usual background noise.  It’s not odd to hear things hit the floor. Someone is always dropping something and mostly on purpose. About a minute after the noise my thoughts are awakened and I realize what the noise was. It was the sound of small beads falling to the floor after being released from the small stretchy band they were strung upon. It was… my new bracelet. “What was that?” I call out. By this time whoever was responsible for the destruction of my newest favorite piece is pretending to not know what I’m talking about. “What was what?” is the response. I search the floor hoping to see a random marble (even though I know this would have made a heavier sound). I circle around the coffee table looking for a trail of beads. Just as I’m about to exhale and tell myself I was wrong I step on a small pointy object. I know before I even look what I will find. There wedged into my bare sole like it belonged there is a bead to my new bracelet. Luckily, it was actually six bracelets meant to be worn together  (Chunky jewelry-my fave) and five were still left. I gather the remaining five and race upstairs to my bedroom to put them in their proper place. I make another promise to myself. I am an optimist and believe one day I will win the fight with my alter ego. I am also a realist and acknowledge I have many earrings, bracelets, necklaces, scarves, head bands and charms amongst the missing. It was because of the broken promises they were lost and haven’t been found.   I am missing one of the trait’s Virgo’s are known for-“organization” and I would like it found.  

 Thirteen Things about Maribeth

Wow 8 things yesterday 13 things today. You are going to get sick of me. I will get back to real writing soon.

This week I decided to choose 13 articles of clothing or anything that has to do with attire that I remember loving or still love.

Here we go

1....Red and white leather Nike sneakers (I slept with them)

2....Coca-Cola sweatshirt (It was a knock off)

3....Jordache jeans (they were a hand-me-down)

4....Fake Jean pumps (heels) at thirteen I'm sure I looked ridiculous

5....Gap Jean Jacket (One of the best purchases ever made)

6.... Cut off jean shorts (I thought I was soooo cool)

7....Rolled up sweat pants (again cool)

8....A hand-made leather bracelet with my name engraved in it

9....Vera Bradley purses

10....Black and white saddle shoes (I still think these are pretty cool for little girls)

11....My b-day dress I wore for my 30th

12....A pair of black and grey Steve Madden slipper like shoes (I wore them to death)

13. A pair of Drew-cut pants by the Limited

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Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

Emergency rooms are filled with people waiting to be seen. As well as people waiting with the people waiting to be seen. On a busy night the brightly lit room can be the source for all kinds of characters. On Saturday night I observed many interesting people and wondered what stories they could tell. There was a teenager in a very short blue fleece robe. It was decorated with snowmen. Her hair was plopped on top of her head in a floppy ponytail. She struck up a conversation with another girl in interesting attire. The other girl was wearing baggy pants adorned with hot sauce bottles and a man’s loose-fitting white t-shirt. Because you sit in such close proximity of other’s in the waiting room you have no choice but to hear the conversations going on.  The girls talked about children and how many they planned on having. The robe girl said she would have seven. She didn’t care if anyone thought she was crazy. She wanted seven children because she was an only child and hated it. The hot sauce bottle girl explained she was pregnant but lost her baby. She was in the emergency room due to complications from a miscarriage. I listened a bit and played out scenarios for them in my mind. I pictured the robe girl with a screaming baby rested on her hip and another in a high-chair throwing food and wondered if she would really make it to seven. The hot sauce bottle girl had a bit of an edge to her. I envisioned her as the type of girl that ran the show and refused to take smack from anyone. What kind of mother’s will they become? I will never really know but I had fun making up a life for them. My attention shifted from them to an older man sitting by himself with his palm rested against his chin. I thought he looked familiar but couldn’t place where I saw him before. Worry and sadness painted his face. He was obviously concerned for whom ever it was he was waiting for. I later realized he was a customer of mine that frequently visited the restaurant. In front of him was a young couple. The boy scrunched down in his seat, his legs were spread out in a carefree fashion. He didn’t pay half as much attention to the girl as she did to him. She kept affectionately rubbing her hands against his legs. As if she was warning the other girls of his status. My eyes shifted to the floor and what caught my attention surprised me a bit. It was no longer faces I was studying. It was toes. Seven out of nine of the girls in the waiting room were wearing flip flops. There were casual flip flops, sequenced flip flops, flip flops with stripes and flip flops that have seen better days. And if there are flip flops then you know there must be toes. If you are going to wear flip flops I think you have an obligation to your toes or shall I say toe nails to keep them presentable. Don’t put flip flops on if your nails are curling past the skin of your toes. It does you an injustice. Wearing flip flops is like buying a house on an Avenue. You have a responsibility to keep them clean, primped and maybe even decorated. I know, the fact that you are in an emergency room may mean you didn’t have time to focus on what you were wearing. But keep in mind you probably will be waiting for hours. The other people in the waiting room with you have no choice but to focus on the other’s in the room at some point. I will remember the faces and toes of all of the people in the room that night. Mainly because of what they were wearing, whether it was a snowman robe, hot sauce pants or flip flops. They made a statement and didn’t even realize it. I wonder if someone else looked at what I was wearing and thought, what was she thinking? I was one of the two that didn’t have on flip flops. My toenails were not ready to be seen.  They needed an emergency room of their own, preferably one in a salon with a nice comfy chair and deep bubbly foot bath.