Dear Alexa

Dear Alexa,

I know you'd find my last post appalling. I myself am appalled. Why did I mention undergarments? I am, indeed, adrift in a sea of nonstyle. I call on you for help often, as you know. And, for instance, I think about you while I'm staring at the clothes in my closet. (I think about you all over the place, often, with this and that, etc. etc. But I try not to think too hard, because then I get sad, sullen, crying, etc etc. But its a gentle resting upon my thoughts that I feel, a half-mindedness even, a chit-chat, etc etc.) GoodNESS you would tisk tisk my lot. But you'd be polite about it. I CANNOT believe I went to Fred Meyer looking like that.

I did shower today, while Buck was napping. FYI. And, let it be known, that I made a solemn vow after the Nov 4 Reunion with the girls last year that I would only ever maintain pretty undergarments. And I've done well with that. No ratty cotton numbers with shot elastic. No bottom-of-the-barrel huge undies that look like shopping bags that you wear when all else is in the laundry. No 17-year-0ld brassieres held together with safety pins that one holds onto because they're from Victoria's Secret and one has only ever had that one thing from VS. No ill-fitting camisoles. Just get rid of them!!! And I have. (shocking pile of discards.) And I'm hoping that the "only pretty" factor will rub off on the other categories of my wardrobe. I hope this paradigm will guide me when I shop. But it doesn't guide me as much as it should. And I go to Walmart too much.

The thing about leaving the city is that Walmart is all-of-a-sudden much more convenient. And cheap. $5 leggings, may I remind you. Times are tight. I would wager that you never saw the inside of a Walmart. Neither did I for many many many many years. I don't think there are any in King County, no? Anyway, not important. What is important is that I should stick to "only pretty" even if I'm at Walmart looking at $12 windbreakers.

Often, when I'm shopping, I do have you with me. We chat, or you nod your approval, or shake your head to redirect me. I just get so dang influenced by cheap and/or comfortable and/or practical crap. I don't know if angels are allowed to do this, but if you are, please knock some sense into me. Or pinch my butt. Or bite my ear. Something.

Admittedly, the new normal includes managing my silly baby while shopping. The new normal means I've only had the where-with-all to shop a great speeds, with not much reflection, keeping a wiggling sillybuns from grabbing clothes off the racks. And, since motherhood, I've not seen myself as being out in the world, of the world, with the other people in the world, so why be cute? But I do feel more worldish lately, and sometimes I actually want to look the part. And I think of you. Lovelovelove.

I do have a supercute haircut, though, don't you think. And I'm wearing a really adorable damask apron while I cook muffins this morning, no? And Buckaroo has a cheeky cute outfit on. And, most delicious of all, we got a pretty good night's beauty rest. Hallelujah. Thank you, I'm sure.

And, at the end of the day, it doesn't matter if I have pretty unmentionables if I don't actually wear them, right? Sheesh.

xoxo