The Nordstrom Christmas Forest

No matter how traditional or puritan you are (and trust me, when it comes to holidays, this girl is prrrettty by the book), it's admittedly quite hard to fight the Christmas spirit until after turkey day. I for one, decided long ago, to embrace the capitalist spirit and incorporate Thanksgiving into "The Holiday Season." This way I get two months of yule tide glee, festive decor, feel good Hallmark movies, and reasons to bake.

I try not to decorate for Christmas before Black Friday, but can't say I haven't slipped a year or two. This year I'm already feeling the urge. Not having folded into temptation quite yet, I have a constant reminder at home, egging me on to decorate prematurely.

Introducing the Nordstrom Christmas Forest.

I'll back up.

Late last February on a quiet Wednesday afternoon, I was happily enjoying my free broke, unemployed afternoon, when I received a text from my friend Megan, who at the time, was working at the Flagship Nordstrom in downtown Seattle.

"I have a very interesting find that I think you need to get in on; it would require Matt's truck!" (this is before Matt sold his Texas pickup for a teeny tiny Porsche)

My response "Tell me more..."

Anytime this girl comes upon a great find, especially one that requires towing capabilities, jumping on board is a no brainer. We could have been picking up all of downtown's panhandlers and I still would have participated. When Megan finds a unique discovery, two things are guaranteed: Hoarding of odd objects, and tons of laughs.

The texts continue to explain that she had uncovered Nordstrom's master plan to redecorate for Christmas next year. This meant that everything used in the prior five years was now being liquidated. Usually offered up for sale to employees, Megan had found out that most of the trees were to be picked up that very afternoon by a dump service.



How can Nordies get rid of these trees, when this random couple is
so clearly enjoying them?

In a Charlie Brown moment, the sadness of the trees not finding a happy home at the Goodwill for donation (and the urge to collect something) overcame both myself and Megan.

I decided I had to jump in on the cause. But how exactly do I explain that I need to borrow a truck from my somewhat new boyfriend, without him thinking I'm completely crazy for salvaging Christmas trees in February, only to transport them back to my 800 sq ft home that could hardly make room for a 3 foot tree??

I will say this... Sometimes I am very thankful for my way with words.

Somehow within a couple hours the truck was mine for the evening, my boyfriend didn't think me completely insane... yet..., and I was off to pick up some Nordies rejects.

Upon my arrival, I found Megan had collected not one or two trees (for each of us, of course) but SIX Christmas trees. Tall ones, short ones, fat ones, skinny ones. Trees with birdhouses still stuck in them, and trees with lights dangling off them.

It was a mess.

I was thrilled.

I backed the truck into the commercial loading dock liked we owned the place (clothing deliveries? please.) and we got to work.

Once loaded, we devised a plan of division. Megan's husband is well aware of her hoarding. It's become a bit of a issue discussion point between them. We needed to sneak her trees into the garage and behind boxes before he came home and find a place to store the remaining trees in my 100 ft storage space in the basement.

Simple.

Amazingly, we pulled it off.

Megan hid the trees from John until Spring (and by then Christmas is just around the corner... you can't put the poor trees out to recycle when they've made it this far).

As for my portion of our "unique find" they have been happily stored with luggage and laundry for nine months. I couldn't tell you if the lights on them will work. Or for that matter, how many trees I have down there. Is it two? Or maybe three? Hopefully no real furry friends have made their home there for the Winter.

Rest assured, that plastic bag has done wonders in protecting the evergreen through three seasons.

What I can tell you is the story of the Nordstrom Christmas Forest is just beginning. In a matter of weeks, these trees will rise from their retail glory, after being cooped up in storage all year, for their second shot at life and Christmas spirit.


Ahhhhh, I love the holidays.

Baby Monkey!

One of my coworkers found this video. I don't know why I'm so obsessed, it just gives me the giggles.

I have a deep love for all things ridiculous.

The Dropsies

Men ask the age old question, "Why do women insist on going to the restroom in groups?" And while there are a plethora of answers, we don't want to go alone, we need to borrow a lipgloss, feminine prod., gum, it's polite to ask if the other women in the group want to join, we're talking about you... The real reason we travel to the WC together is for support. On a typical night, this means moral support. (How does the back of my hair look? Is there anything in my teeth? Can you zip me up? you get the idea).

Recently, I leaned on my bathroom mates for support in an unexpected way; to help me out of a dirty situation.

I happen to be wearing a beloved fabric cuff with a magnet closure on this particular night. In the process of doing my thang and redressing, the magnet decided to give out and plop... fell right into the bowl. This is clearly a problem for a couple reasons. The obvious threat of clogging and the fact that a cloth cuff has now been drenched in something quite unclean, and thus ruined for life. I have absolutely no idea how I would have proceeded had I ventured into the bathroom by myself. However, since we females never travel to such a place alone, in shock I turned to my friends for advice on what to do next.

Without blinking, Jamie stepped up and fished, yes, fished, my cuff out of the toilet. Through my hysterics I was faced with the difficult decision of what to do next. Although the cuff had been saved by Jamie, given its exposure I would probably NEVER wear this piece of jewelry again. The cuff's fate was sealed to the trash can, but luckily the restaurant's plumbing was saved.

Thank you Jamie for doing something I didn't have the guts to do!

I couldn't help but laugh in awe of the situation, while Jamie did my dirty work

Into the trash it goes :(

Katie helped with artistic poses. Art is an important element in life for anyone working through a difficult time.

Post Script: This problem of dropping valuable items in undesirable locations seems to now be a theme with me. Just yesterday, while exiting a bathroom stall, my keys fell out of my purse and right into the toilet (clean bowl this time). I really hope this doesn't continue. I'm keeping a very close watch over my purse valuables, cell phone, and Gatsby (he doesn't know how to swim yet) until the problem ceases.

Holy Discovery

I had to share my amazing lesson for the day

Did you know there are tabs on the sides of tin foil and plastic wrap boxes to keep the rolls in place?!?! How was I not aware of this before?

This is even better than the time I learned you were supposed to cut off the small belt holder thingies that come on dresses.

Thanks to Tom Butts for sharing his discovery on FB

You Say Tomato

I say "OUCH!"

This is three days after I was in the sun where only my feet got burned. I used to question the purpose of SPF 70, now I know, it's for albinos like me who are dumb enough to move to Texas, where it's 90+ degrees six months out of the year.

File Under: Us Weekly "Who Wore It Best"

Ugh, it is getting so annoying to be copied so much. (Not to mention, Selena Gomez, that this look is a bit NYE circa 2008).

Minus the fact that my Betsy Johnson was not professionally photographed, and I am only surveying myself...

100% of readers agreed, I wore it best ;)

One Stop Shopping

I was online looking for some office supplies and came upon this:

Free Ham??!?! Really? Food items aren't exactly what I'm hoping to find at the same place I get my stapler. Wrapped candy or pretzels for office snacks maybe. But a ham? It's not even office holiday party time.

Bizarre.

Timberrrrrrr!!!!

(mom, if you read this, please promise NOT to freak out and call me as soon as you're done. I'm fine, I promise!)

Yesterday was not a stellar one by any means. I discovered the bent gate, my work laptop decided to catch a bug, and I was involved in too many meetings where vendors were throwing each other under the bus in order to save themselves. The ONE thing I had to look forward to was SXSW and the Hotel Cafe show at the Parish.

I left work early to try and beat traffic, go home, change, and be downtown in time to get tickets. I learned during the film part of SXSW that if you wanted to see a show, you needed to arrive at least an hour beforehand. I wasn't taking any chances here, this was the one concert I wanted to see this entire weekend. I got there an hour and a half early. No one seemed to be on my same wavelength, apparently concerts don't require as much line waiting time. I checked inside with the staff who were still busy setting up and told me that about an hour before the show tickets would go on sale.

I decided to start the line outside for tickets. This may be the first time I was first in line for anything. The wait wasn't so bad. I made friends with other people in line, there was a huge drum circle down the street and the people watching was phenomenal.

bad lighting here, but you can see the masses of people

and Tigger too

At about 7:20, they were about to start letting people in. The badges (people who actually have something to do with the music industry) were let in first. Randomly, I started feeling nauseous. I figured it was because I hadn't had dinner yet, but didn't want to lose my place in line to go get food. As I began to feel dizzy as a result, I put my hands on my knees to catch my breath.

The next thing I remember are three cops surrounding me, a man yelling to "move her out of the way, she's holding up the line," and some lady freaking out that my lip was bleeding. Apparently I fainted and fell on my face... twice.

The cops propped me up to sit, where I lost consciousness, again. Then the trouble started. Enter an ambulance and fire truck to the scene. Really?!? How embarrassing! The cops stood me up and with one on each arm, carried me off the street telling me that I was going to be arrested for public intoxication. That woke me up. Holy cow! I could lose my job for something like this! Then it dawned on me, I wasn't drunk! I volunteered a breathalyzer to prove it, which they denied me, and began to question me on what sort of "recreational" drugs I take. "Um, nothing, I work in rehab" I got a look like this was something they heard all the time.

What really angers me about this, is the lack of compassion from the police. I understand that the majority of people falling over during this thing really are too drunk to handle themselves. But it was 7pm! Give me a break. Is it so hard to believe that something else may have been a factor? The tough guy act was completely unnecessary. How about concern for once?

I was told that my choices were to be arrested or go with the EMTs for testing. So off I went with the paramedics, luckily talking them out of not strapping me onto the gurney. I was hooked up to monitors, and the blood work/ blood pressure tests began. Now that the fear of being arrested was behind me, I was more focused on what I had done to myself. My face was so sore! "Er, do you have a mirror in here?" The two EMTs laughed. "If you're worried about your lip, it's not so bad. Nothing a little lipgloss won't hide"

Phew!

Question after question, they had no idea why I fainted. I proved that I had come to enough to be released and not taken to the ER for further tests and an IV for rehydration. Somehow I even convinced them to let me walk home alone.

Once home, I completely broke down sobbing. I was so mortified that this happened! And I was by myself, and most importantly, I missed the concert!

My knees were totally skinned (what am I, 10?) and my nose was really starting to throb. Nick assures me it's not broken. Since he's been in his share of fights, and his dad's a doctor, I'm going to go ahead and pretend he's qualified enough to make that call.

This morning my entire face is sore. My front teeth are loose from biting my lip and falling on them, and I'm just really tired. I used to faint a lot as a kid, but haven't in YEARS. And never to the point that I actually hurt myself in the process. This is just more proof that I should not be allowed to leave the house alone.

I've decided that as a consolation prize for all the trauma, I've earned myself a trip to LA and to go to the real Hotel Cafe for a show or two.

Rugrats

I've complained about the neighborhood kids to most people I know with ears. I can't remember if I've mentioned them on this blog yet. We live in a somewhat "colorful" neighborhood. You might call it "up and coming" or going through a revitalization. Emphasis on not there yet. There are a lot of kids who live on the block. Actually, I think the 10 or so I usually see/ hear reside in only two of the houses.

At any rate, from the day we moved in, they've been wanting to come over. At first it was to see the house, play in our backyard, and then, any reason to knock on the door. Once Nick even let them in to use our bathroom! (apparently their's was broken) I actually hide sometimes when I'm working from home when I see them approaching. It's not that I have anything against kids (ok, well, I'm getting better), it's just that these are the dirty kind whose parents never know where they are... SUCH a pet peeve of mine. If you have them, be responsible for them!

Since winter, the kids haven't wanted to come over as much. It's colder, and I told them they couldn't come over after dark. Then this morning I noticed this:

and remembered that someone whose name I'll not mention, but it happens to rhyme with "kick" taught the kids how to squeeze through the gate rods one day when we couldn't remember the combination lock to the door. Seems like they like to use that trick on days that we aren't home at all. It also looks like they have grown a lot over the holidays.

The funniest part about this is that the gate isn't even locked right now. Our house has some funny foundation issues which prevents us from using the front door. Since we have to go in and out the back door all the time, the lock is just hanging there and the gate can easily be opened.

Grammy Dos and Don'ts

First, I'll start off with my favorites:

Kate Benkinsale. The train is my favorite feature of her gown, however her entire look is sleek, well thought out and elegant. Come to think of it, since she's technically and actress and presenter, she should probably be exempt from receiving props for being well dressed, as this seems to be less of a challenge for the non-musical sort.


Carrie Underwood receives my vote for Best Dressed. The gown is gorgeous. Well Done.

And Now... those less fortunate. I feel as though there are no words

And yet, I cannot hold my tongue, and so, I'll begin:

Paula, I'm not surprised. Only you would think wearing Roman soldier armor qualifies as vintage. Can't wait to see what you'll be wearing these next few months on AI...

M.I.A., soooo, you fly like paper and get high like planes. Is this "dress" (a term I use very lightly in this instance) a nod to your efforts in growing wings? p.s. peacocks don't hit the air too often.

Katy Perry, surprisingly, I'm impressed. Quite a classy look. I half expected you to be donning the getup next to you, minus the 9 month old bump.

If the red carpet look wasn't enough for the viewing audiences, this not so teenie weenie polka dot bikini was forced upon us all during M.I.A.'s performance. Do you think she commissioned Liz Lange to create this special number? And who says maternity wear is old fashioned and ultra conservative.

The jumpsuit comeback: currently featured at Target, H&M, and store windows across the country.

This:

just set my campaign back five years. I think I'll narrow my efforts back to overalls. They have to be on the brink of being cool sometime soon.

And finally, the most shocking thing to happen at the Grammys last night was a non-appearance. http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20257828,00.html

Isn't Chris Brown supposed to be a super nice guy? Guess actions speak louder than words on this one.

Now Hiring: PA

I recently came up with what I considered a brilliant idea.

I would love to have a personal assistant (really, who wouldn't). Someone to take care of all the pesky things I forget to do in a week: Keep me organized, make the morning coffee, tell me my outfit looks cute, blog when I'm too tired to, etc. I am obviously in no position to hire such a person. However, I've decided free labor is available to anyone clever enough to seek it, through a sneaky little word: Internship. I understand that an accredited collegiate school needs to approve of my "program," but I'm pretty sure I could achieve this through the University of Pheonix or Devry, or any college who advertises during midday soap operas.

I think I'd be a great boss, with better Christmas bonuses than Tyra Banks, fantastic end of semester recommendations, and even potential full time employment as a real PA when I become wildly successful and can afford to do so.

Slightly Disturbing

Yet kitsch enough to be fabulous.

A certain beloved house guest (who shall remain nameless) chipped the tip of my chopping knife while trying to break up some ice. I was devastated since this knife was part of a prized set. They had pastel pink handles so of course it was love at first sight. A surprise bonus was that they were actually decent quality.

With an incomplete set, I'm determined to find a suitable replacement. I can't find my original set, and to be quite honest, although I still love pink, I'm slowly moving past the point of purchasing all my household items in the color.

The couple who hosted the Halloween party we attended last weekend, had this in their kitchen. There was an instant appeal. I've been on the look for him ever since. I think this gumby guy will have a happy new home.

Just in case anyone else has my warped sense of style as well, this set can be found here , available in a variety of colors (even pink)

Like Mother, Like Daughter

It is such a good thing I am not a mother yet. These reasons stem mostly from the fact that I struggle to keep a plant alive, get frustrated at the neighbor kids who constantly ring the doorbell wanting to play in my backyard (at 3x a day, you would furl a brow at them too), and have issues with the constant needs of a dog.

I'm also not sure I'm quite ready to be the right role model. I think I would get too caught up in styling the baby with heels, leggings, and reading her not-so-classic nursery rhymes before nap time.

Tammy Faye for the Hands

Why does it take so long for me to get ready (in the morning, to go out, dinner)? Maybe it's because my make up goes on my hand before it reaches my face.

I've already resorted to sitting while I apply my make up, as I get too tired standing for the whole charade. When I looked down at my hand yesterday, it dawned on me that I might be getting a little carried away.

And yes, I have forgotten to wash my hands before; leaving the house with a very similar paint palette.

When You Live in the Ghetto

Purchasing ice looks something like this:

Classy

Things I Like to Make Up

Everyone has their over used phrases. Some occur unintentionally, and others we coin deliberately. Amanda is currently trying to transition herself from "If you will" to a more sophisticated "As it were". I've been told I have a tendency to say " At the end of the day" quite often. If I may make an argument, the end of the day is a great time for reflection and inspiration to make the next day better (or I just like to begin my sentences with prepositional phrases).

I also recently discovered that a favored word of mine (and just used in this blog's prior posting) is in fact made up. "Prention" is apparently something I concocted myself... but still sounds like it could be real, right?

If one can be pretentious (verb), then I think it should also take the noun form, as something tangible to avoid.

Pet Peeves

A list of some recent annoyances:

• The slurping sound made through a straw when a blended beverage is all gone. Give it a rest! There's nothing left in there. The sound is worse than nails on a chalk board.
• Re-telling stories over and over. It was mildly amusing the first time
• Bad handwriting. "Print Clearly" is not posted just for fun.
• Running late. I realize this is completely contradictory since I am a frequent offender. But when it comes to important things: work, uh... ok... I guess that's my one exception... I'm always on time. If the interview is scheduled for 4:00, I'm ready by 3:50. I'm just doomed to spend my life waiting by the phone for men to call me. Sigh.

We Didn't Start the Fire

Adding to my infatuation with inappropriate things to say about fire

(cut back to one year ago when I had the "fire song of the day" in reflection of the wild fires surrounding the LA area, oh if only I had my blog back then! ... some notable songs that made the list: Prodigy "Firestarter", Bad Religion "Los Angeles is Burning", Johnny Cash "Ring of Fire")

I think I have found something that takes the cake.

In case it isn't clear what exactly you're looking at, it's a sample of "pinup firemen" fabric, YES fabric. I was exposed to this spectacle at Fabric Depot in Portland last week.

My mom and I often wonder what to do with novelty prints. We come across cute coffee and household printed material which is just too good to pass up. Usually it ends up in a throw pillow, duffel bag, or apron.
There is absolutely NOTHING I can think of to use this fabric. Pot holders? Painting smock? Curtains? Slip cover for the couch? What cracks me up even more is to think about the person who had to actually design this material.

HOT!

Another World

An excerpt from an article in the NY Times Style Magazine, Spring 2008

"I was about 20 years old and determined to wear a red Valentino dress to my friend's debutant ball. I had seen when my mother wore Valentino couture she immediately became the center of attention. Without fail, a moment of silence would occur as she stepped in the room. I wanted to experience this intense feeling for myself. When I asked to borrow Mom's dress, she flatly refused, saying that red at a coming out party went against all codes of etiquette. So I did what any savvy New York girl would do: I called Valentino himself, who was thrilled at the idea of making me the social scandal of the season. He even gave me my own gown..."

... for those of you wanting to follow in the footsteps above, Valentino can be reached at 917- oh wait- why on earth would I even have -a clue (standard long distance rates may apply)

It's Not Easy Being Cheesy

This is the first somewhat "guest" posting from Mr. Nick Byrd... i.e. he proposed the idea and told me I should blog about it (I'll take what I can get)

Yet another reason why cheese is so amazing. These people are literally willing to throw themselves down a hill for it. Now THAT'S love! Sorry Nick, I'm not sure I can claim I would do the same for you ;)

The pink pig is my favorite.

This might actually beat out Bay to Breakers as the coolest thing to attend, ever.