Gulf Shores, AL

This is where I am right now -- at Lighthouse Condominiums in Gulf Shores, Alabama. The image above is what I see everyday from the balcony of our condo. Except there's more beach. Who knew Alabama was home to such a wonderful place? Everybody goes to Florida, but the beach here is pretty good, too, I think. There aren't many people here, but maybe it's because we're here in September.

When I say "we," I mean Clay, Summer, the girlies, Brooks, Jacki, and Lex. Clay's brother and his family are here, too.

Anyway, it's been fun -- maybe I'll post pictures if Summer and Jacki let me have some. And maybe I'll tell you about my first run-in with a jellyfish . . .

Thing I'm thankful for: the sound of waves for background noise.

I Can't Prove It

I watched "Proof" on Friday, and I've watched certain scenes more than once in the last few days. I've actually been thinking a lot about it.

The first time I saw it was about 2 months ago. To be honest, I wasn't greatly impressed. I did like it, but I didn't love it. After I watched it last weekend, though, I decided that there was more to it than met my eye. Besides the solid acting -- I really do believe this is one of Gwyneth Paltrow's best performances -- and a good musical score, and despite a questionable love scene, the movie as a whole was pretty good. The screenplay is brilliant. It's based on a play by John Madden, so you know it's good because dialogue is key on the stage. It's all about a mathematical proof that someone wrote, but no one can prove with absolute certainty who that person was. And the whole movie is filled with scenes about proving things. Gwyneth Paltrow's screen sister* can't prove to her that jojoba makes hair healthy, Gwyneth Paltrow couldn't prove her sanity to her sister, and neither one of them could prove whether or not it was the best thing for their crazy father to live the end of his life at home instead of in a mental institution.

In the end, the "take-home" message for me was that most of life is based on trust. Credibility and trust. We can't see or hear a lot of things that go on. We can't, for example, prove that gravity is a something. Objects falling to the ground is "just evidence," as Paltrow's character would put it; "it doesn't prove anything." And so really what we go on most of the time is other people's testimonies. There is an amazing amount of trust that goes on in the world. Trust that food was prepared correctly at a restaurant, trust that an airplane pilot knows exactly what he's doing, or trust that what somebody is telling you is true. That's why it's so important to get to know one another -- and even then, there's a leap of faith one must take to form a full bond of trust. And I think that's also why faith is so important. It really is necessary in every relationship. The more I think about it, the more I can't understand why more people don't have faith in God, or a god, anyway. Just as much faith is required to believe that the medicine we're getting from a pharmacist is the proper type and dosage and that it won't kill us. If we haven't been schooled in organic chemistry, we wouldn't know the difference.

Putting our trust in the things of this world is inevitable, whether we say it is or not, and faith is a necessary part of that trust.

Hm. Interesting what you can learn from a movie.

*Paltrow's sister was played by Hope Davis, the father by Anthony Hopkins, and the love interest by Jake Gyllenhaal. All four actors in the movie were great, I thought.

Thing I'm thankful for: toasted Wheat Thins, veggie-flavored.

What Concerns America?

Today I received an interesting e-mail from a work listserv. The e-mail referenced a recent article in Autoweek, "Back to School: Teenage Driving." In the body was an excerpt:

Since the March 2003 invasion of Iraq, about 2600 American troops have been killed in combat and war-related incidents. The count is well-known and updated regularly in news reports. Did you know during the same 41-month period, more than 22,000 teenagers, ages 15-19, died in traffic accidents on U.S. roads?

- Kevin A. Wilson

I don't want to disrespect those who have died in the present war, and I don't want to say that I don't keenly feel the angst and wonder and some doubt about the military state of affairs. But Kevin Wilson has put into words what I've been feeling for a while now. Yes, the war is terrible, but there are a lot of terrible things going on in the world right now. A lot. Yet it seems like deaths in Iraq are at the top of everyone's mind. Sometimes I even think that it's looked on as cool to be against this war. At least, it's the hip thing to dislike the "Bush administration."

But sometimes I wonder whether people's energies would best be spent trying to fix things we can actually control. Whether or not you disagree with the war that's going on right now, I think it's clear that we can't just completely pull out now. There's an investment there that has to be handled very delicately. Things in Iraq are somewhat out of our control, I think.

What we can control is things like auto accidents in our country. Or drug trafficking, or prostitution, or suicide rates, or literacy efforts. Why don't people put bumper stickers on their cars that say, "Each year, there are approximately 19,000 new STD infections." Or "In 2003, 11% of all deaths among children and adolescents aged 15-19 years are from homicide." That's 1,938, folks. Why don't people get mad that in Burkina Faso, literacy rates are the lowest in the world, at only 18.2%?

To me, these are things to get mad about. These are things to do something for. Yes, 2600 deaths in Iraq is a depressing number. But 22,000 deaths from traffic accidents? That's staggering. What I want to say is, let's put things into perspective. If you really want to put an end to this war, do it. And I'll be happy if you do. But I'm tired that the argument for it is that thousands of people are dying. Yes, that's true. But it's as if -- when people say that -- that they're forgetting about other major causes of death, and then people forget about what it means to sleep with multiple partners or smoke cigarettes regularly.

I guess when it comes right down to it, I don't think that war is the worst thing that can happen in this world. I know I'm gonna get a lot of criticism for that. But it concerns me that I will get so much heat for that and not much for, say, neglecting my volunteer work.

Thing I'm thankful for: continuing education courses.

Painting a Piece of a Mural

This morning I met up with 6 other people from church to serve. The project this month was to paint a mural somewhere in Atlanta. No artistic talent was needed, they said. Well, since painting is one of my most favorite things to do, I knew I had to be a part of this project. Little did I know that it was going to be one of the most relaxing things I have done in a year!

Liz, Heather, and I met Oren, Jeremy, Michelle, and Lorann at Atlanta Union Mission. When we walked into the place, we saw about 50-75 people sitting at long tables and painting on small canvasses. Each canvas has part of a painting that is pre-drawn, and it's kind of like a paint-by-number piece of art. When all the small paintings are complete, they are hung together to make a large set of wall hangings, like the image above.

It's really amazing, actually. Atlanta Union Mission is just the center we painted at, and it's a great place itself, but the Foundation for Hospital Art is what we were painting these for. John Feight started the foundation several years ago by painting murals in Atlanta's Northside Hospital. He wanted to bring images of nature into hospitals to make them more welcoming and comfortable. He developed the foundation gradually, and today, thousands of volunteers all over the world help paint these murals. Each set of paintings (that comprise the whole mural) is shipped to different hospitals around the world. And it's based here in Atlanta! Every Saturday from 9-11 a.m., volunteers at Union Mission paint. Atlanta Union Mission is a Christian ministry that helps homeless and addicted men, women, and children get through their hard times. And in the hospitals, staff and sick children paint, too.

So there I sat today, painting for two hours, talking to Michelle and Lorann. We had fun laughing and listening to music and talking to new people. At first, my OCD got the better of me, and I was bothered by the mess-ups on my painting. See, every painting gets two coats. I was finishing the second coat on a previously painted canvas, and somebody definitely painted outside of the lines! But later I realized that a lot of the people at Union Mission were older and had drug problems. They didn't have steady hands. And sometimes handicapped or small children help, too. And they don't always have steady painting hands either. And so, through service, my eyes have been opened a bit more -- to people who are less fortunate than me and to people like John Feight, who want to make the world a little more bearable for those who are sick and dying.

I'm grateful to have the things I do. I'm grateful for the teachings of Jesus Christ, I'm grateful to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints for being an organization through which I can apply those teachings, and I'm grateful for loving parents who've taught me correct principles to live by. I wish I didn't forget other people's perspectives as much as I do, but I'm glad I have opportunities to improve myself everyday. And I'm so glad I went to help paint today. It was a very pleasant and relaxing thing to do on a Saturday morning; if any of you can go some Saturday, do!

A Bad Habit

Okay, okay -- I have more than one bad habit, but this is the one I've been thinking about lately: popping my knuckles.

I've gotten to the point of annoyance, probably. It feels like an uncontrollable urge sometimes. I'll feel like it's that time for cavitation* again, and all I can think is, "must. pop. now." So what ends up happening is a situation like this: I'm sitting in a meeting at work where only one person is talking. He'll pause for a moment, and that moment is completely silent because nobody likes to talk during meetings, and everyone is paying attention to the speaker. He might be logging onto the internet and bringing up a page for all of us to view. Silence. POP!

Or I could be in church during fast and testimony meeting. There's a lull in the testimony-bearing. Silence. POP!

And my pops are loud, too. I don't know how I got to this point. I do remember being introduced to the practice. I must've been about 6 years old. I saw my sister Cami popping her knuckles and asked her what she was doing. "Here, I'll show you," she enthusiasticly replied. So I started popping. I guess at first it was out of amusement. But then Lexi and I started taking piano lessons, and I realized I had naturally kicked the habit.

What happened when I stopped playing the piano? You guessed it -- back to popping. I stopped for the 3 years that I played the clarinet, too. What once was a habit of amusement turned into a habit of finding something to do with my hands. I like to be moving them. When I'm reading, I constantly wring my hands and try to pop my fingers, knowing full well that you can't pop the same knuckle twice without waiting a little while.

But I've got to stop! I'm ruining my soft tissue, and my knuckles are getting fat! What are your suggestions, readers? Do you have any crazy habits that you just can't quit?

*Contrary to popular belief, knuckle-popping does not cause arthritis. At least, no scientific study has been conducted thus far that proves otherwise. All of our joints are surrounded by a thick, clear liquid called synovial fluid. When you stretch or bend your finger, the joints pull apart, and the connective tissue capsule that surrounds the joint is stretched. By stretching the capsule, the volume increases, which causes a decrease in pressure. This decrease in pressure causes the dissolved gases in the synovial fluid (e.g., carbon dioxide and nitrogen) to be less soluble and form bubbles through a process called cavitation. When the joint is stretched far enough, the pressure in the capsule drops so low that the bubbles pop. It takes about 25-30 minutes for the gas to redissolve into the fluid. During this period of time, your knuckles will not crack. Once the gas is redissolved, cavitation is once again possible.

In one scientific study, knuckle poppers did show signs of soft tissue damage and a decrease in grip strength, though no apparent connection to arthritis. There is evidence, however, of increased mobility right after popping. (Read more at How Stuff Works, which is [only] one place I went to research this.)

Thing I'm thankful for: science research.

My Heaven

I was thinking about independent bookstores after writing that last post and thought it was funny that normally I'm like, "Mom and pop shops? Whatever." I usually really don't care much. (Call me Satan, but I do love Wal-Mart.)

But independent booksellers -- now that's what I love. I can remember spending hours in "A Likely Story" in C-town. I wanted to work there when I got older, but it closed soon after I started college. Before that, it was "Caravan's" in Oklahoma. My mom would buy Lexi and me a turkey bagel with cream cheese and a book.

I'll never forget the huge amount of time I spent reading when I was younger. I don't read much now, though. I'm so busy with work and church activities and well, watching movies, actually. I don't know why, but it's been more difficult to get started on books now. Maybe college took the pleasure out of reading them? No. No, it's more that once I got to the point where I was really studying the literature I was reading (in 12th grade), I think I became overwhelmed. It's difficult for me to "just read" a book now. I have a compulsion to look up every single word I don't understand, research the history behind each novel, google the author, and analyze the text. That's good, but it's also a bit exhausting. If I only had time . . .

Which is why I'd like a heaven to be an eternity of reading and studying whatever I want. And I expect there'll be a lot of that. And it's fine by me. As long as my family is around. Just books and family -- that's what I want my heaven to be. (And food, too.)

What would make up your heaven?

Thing I'm thankful for: soap.

My Favorite Friday

I had a great day today! I got to see the girlies!

Summer and Clay went to the temple, so I watched Lily and Macy for the night.

As I drove them to my area of Atlanta, we listened to "Somewhere Beyond the Sea," "Come Fly With Me," and "Catch a Falling Star." And we chatted about how old Lily was getting -- so old that she's in school. This was just part of the girlies conversation:
Macy: Lily's getting old.
Lily: I know. I feel like I have dry skin.

Uh -- huh? I could swear that's what she said. She's such a smart little 5-year-old.

We went to a little bookstore by my apartment called Tall Tales Book Shop. We stayed in there for about an hour, and all of us picked out a book. Lily got a Little Einsteins book called Butterfly Suits. Macy picked out Oswald's Camping Trip, and I got Arthur's Tooth. (When they're a little older, I'd like to read The BFG to them.) The lady at the book shop said she could hear them talking from the front of the store (We were in the children's section.), and she said it was nice to see such little kids already loving books. (I'm a huge literacy advocate. I love to get people to love reading!)

Then we went to Bruster's, where the girls got baby cones with "Cotton Candy Explosion" covered in sprinkles, and I got a single scoop of plain chocolate on a cake cone. We sat outside at a picnic table and enjoyed our dessert. I don't know why, but there is a sandbox next to this Bruster's, so the girls took off their shoes after they were finished with their ice cream and went to town building sand castles. I decided it was time to go when Macy had a little potty accident . . .

So we came back to my 'mpartment, as Macy says it, and as I was looking for a parking spot, Lily told me she liked these apartments. "Maybe I'll move into an apartment when I get older."
"You probably will."
"How old are you, Sara?"
"24."
"That's old. Maybe when I'm 24 I'll move to Atlanta. You don't have to take a plane to Atlanta."

After washing Macy off, we watched "Lady and the Tramp." This is my second favorite Disney movie, after "Sleeping Beauty." We watched the Siamese cats scene 3 times. I loved that scene when I was little and still do, and I'm glad to see that kids in 2006 like it as well. "Where we finding baby, there are milk nearby." Classic. Get's 'em everytime.

We watched the movie from the comfort of my wonderful bed, munched on fruit snacks, and just had fun. Just as Summer and Clay got here, the girls were finishing up the movie. But that's not the end of our fun-filled night. I sent each of them home with a baggie of treats -- lots of stickers, foam letter stickers that spell out their names, glazed animal crackers, more fruit snacks. I'm gonna make a pretty good mom, if I do say so myself. Someday, some guy's gonna be lucky to have me as the mother of his children!

Man, I love kids. Love 'em. The girlies aren't even mine, and I didn't want them to go home. I have more fun with them than I do with some of my friends. I love spending my Fridays like this -- just chillin' with the girlies.

Thing I'm thankful for: local bookstores.

Do You Like to Pop Bubble Wrap?

Lauren sent me an e-mail today with a link to a virtual bubble wrap site. I thought I'd take it one step further and blog about because it is pretty fun. The "manic mode" is the really fun part.

Thing I'm thankful for: running water.

A Little Shopping Treat

It's amazing to me how quickly humans can tell they're physically attracted to one another. I knew within probably 3 seconds, for example, that I was attracted to the guy walking into Kroger tonight, as I was walking out.

Honestly, we crossed paths for only about 3 seconds, but in that 3 seconds, I picked up a tremendous amount of detail. Such as:

• He was tall (probably 6'3" or so) and thin, but not skin and bones, like many very tall people.
• He had brown wavy hair underneath his baseball cap.
• He was tan.
• He wore british khaki trousers and a plain red t-shirt.
• He looked kind of like John Paulk, my brother's high school friend -- but not as smiley and preppy.

That's really a lot for 3 seconds, when I think about it. For the most part, we decide very quickly about whether we are physically attracted to someone. Of course it can change -- people who might not have caught our attentions at one time catch them later. But when you're attracted to someone a lot, you're attracted to them! It doesn't take very long.

And so what is it, anyway -- this attraction? Most of the guys I've dated or liked look very, very different. And I haven't been as attracted to anyone as I was to that guy at Kroger in a long time. Why? I wonder.

I looked up the subject in my old psychology textbook (Psychology, Myers, 1992). It doesn't really answer my question, but as I was reading, I found some interesting excerpts anyway:

[M]en in 37 cultures, from Australia to Zambia, judge women as more attractive if they have a youthful appearance. [. . .] To women, men seem more attractive if they appear mature and dominant.

People also seem to prefer physical features -- noses, legs, physiques -- that are neither unusually large or small. In one clever demonstration of this, Judith Langlois and Lori Roggman (1990) digitized the faces of up to 32 college students and used a computer to average them. Students judged the averaged, composite faces as more attractive than 96 percent of the individual faces. To be average is to be beautiful. 580

Anyway, those are just random thoughts. I wish I had my social psychology book right about now so I could give more factual information -- I'm slightly embarrassed about my Kroger guy confession . . . :)

Thing I'm thankful for: drizzling rain.

Usability 101

I don't have to have my masters in HCI at Georgia Tech yet to know user-unfriendly design when I see it.

I was using Lauren's rather expensive Bissell Cleanview PowerTrak Revolution Deluxe vacuum cleaner last night and today, and let me tell you -- for over $200, that thing should be usable. Oh, it cleans fine, and it's got this red light/green light feature that lets you know when your carpet is still dirty or clean, respectively. But the cord is in the wrong place! It's on the right side of the vacuum, which means that, if you're right-handed, you've got a lot of unnecessary fiddling with the cord to do. I guess it's great for Lefties. But what Bissell and other vacuum companies ought to do is either make two versions of each vacuum or come up with a portable cord case thing. OR put the cord in the back and centered.

Anyway, I just thought I'd mention it because it's those little things in life that sometimes feel like they matter the most. Annoyances here and there that, when you live with them for a long time and then have a chance to live without, you're amazed at how much more relaxing life becomes!

The opposite is also true. For example, who knew I would be so thankful for a dry refrigerator? Well, in my apartment, the fridge leaks all over the food. So I open the fridge doors to soggy egg cartons and small puddles. I have to keep my containers perfectly level until I get to the kitchen sink, where I can dispense of the water, but inevitably, some of it always spills onto the floor. It's absolutely rudiculus.

Anyway, something that I am thankful for: perfect weather.

Time is Not On My Side

It's 3:11 a.m., and I don't know why I'm still up. Even if I go to bed now, I have to wake up in approximately 4 hours and 50 minutes to get to work on time.

Why do I do this to myself? I had every intention of going to sleep at around midnight -- still late for most people, but quite early for me. Do I have insomnia? Most likely I just need some quiet time before I go to sleep. I like being up when no one else is. I like going to the store in the middle of the night. And I like latenight online shopping. I dunno what it is, really. I do know that for me, nighttime is the right time. Here's what I've done with my night since 9:15 p.m.:

• 9:15-10:15 -- Went to the gym and walked a couple of miles
• 10:00-11:00 -- Watched "Project Runway"
• 10:10-11:00 -- Folded and put away clothes
• 11:00-11:45 -- Vaccumed the apartment (minus Lauren's room)
• 11:45-12:15 -- Cleaned the carpet stains
• 12:16-12:53 -- Unclogged the drain in my bathtub
• 12:55-1:22 -- Went to Kroger to buy a hair catcher
• 1:25-2:25 -- Read e-mail and blogs
• 2:25-3:05 -- Went to Eskimo Joe's Web site and thought about buying brand t-shirts; reminisced about my childhood by then going to the OSU merchandise section
  
• 3:05-3:11 -- Bought Proactiv, via Skype
• 3:11-whenever -- am now blogging

(Notice that the times between 12:16 and 1:22 are very exact. I start really paying attention to the clock in this hour because it's about that time that I start subtracting an hour from the amount of time I'd have to sleep if I went to bed at midnight, my goal bedtime.)

I very distinctly remember the night I heard that a particular woman only got 4 hours of sleep a night. I was in the 6th grade. My parents were watching "60 Minutes" in the family room, and I was laying on the brown carpet, face-down, listening to the show as well. Some news anchor was talking about a woman who spent a lot of time doing charity work -- so much that she usually only got about 4 hours of sleep a night. "Oh my gosh," I thought. "That's crazy!!!"

Lo and behold, 12 years later, I am that woman getting about 4 hours of sleep a night (minus the charity work). What happened? Every night, I seem like I have a race with the clock. What can happen faster -- the clock striking 1 a.m. or me getting in bed?

And with that, good night, folks. My eyes hurt and my arms ache (though my mind is racing with thoughts and memories and ideas and frustrations and anxiety). Adieu, adieu. Parting is such sweet sorrow. :(

Thing I'm thankful for: my new Logitech microphone.

Deep Sea or Space?

For some reason or other, Lauren and I were up late discussing which situation we feared more: being alone in the deep sea or being alone in space. Were we talking submersion in a submarine or flying in a space shuttle? Or just our bodies? I wondered. But we decided that any one would be pretty frightening.

Lauren said she would rather be in the deep, deep sea. She's afraid of the blackness and nothingness that is space. She's afraid of the absolute silence. "At least there'd be animals around you in the water." I disagree. Here's what I told her:

I'm deathly afraid of aliens and UFOs, but even I'd rather be floating in space. Water is so powerful -- even one drop of water can start erosive effects on the earth. The pressure of water is so incredible, it changes all the gas pressures in your body. You even have to be careful not to come up out of water too quickly or you'll die from the bends. The deep ocean is nothingness and blackness and quiet. Yes, you may be surrounded by sea creatures, but they're the razor-toothed monster-looking kind with glowing light things hanging from their forheads!* And actually, now that I think about it, aliens come from the depths of the ocean. HELLO! "The Abyss." "Cocoon." Yeah, space wins hands down.

And now I'd like to pose the question to you, dear readers. Would you rather be stuck all alone in the deep, dark ocean or in the black nothingness of space?

*Check out another razor-toothed monster. Speaking of biolumnescence, did you know you could buy this for your child?


Thing I'm thankful for: mint chocolate chip ice cream cones.

Fall Is Just Around the Corner

I went to a Braves game tonight with my CDC division co-workers. I sort of felt as out-of-place at the ballgame as I do at the office. But it was still fun. The Braves played the Chicago Cubs, and they lost, 8-3.

But that's not really what I want to talk about. What I really want to talk about is the atmosphere up there in the 404th section, 13th row. There was a cool breeze that made me glad I hadn't worn shorts, that resulted in my friend's 9-year-old daughter putting on her light jacket, and caused the tiny hairs on my arm to slightly move. What?!? Could fall be approaching? Next thing I know, leaves will be changing color and falling to the ground!

And I absolutely cannot wait. The older I get, the more excited I get for fall. My natural outfit of choice is jeans and a sweater, hiking shoes and wool socks. I was made for cool weather.

And if the fall and winter seasons here in Georgia are anything like they were last year, I'll be extremely angry at "Mother Nature." I better be able to wear my heavy winter coat at least 30 times! It better snow, darn it! (Okay, now I'm probably pushing it.)

Thing I'm thankful for: hot dogs and cotton candy.

Oooh, FASHION -- Turn to the Left, Turn to the Right!

Whenever I go to the mall, I realize what great taste I have.

Seriously. I know I don't look like I know what I'm talking about when it comes to clothes and shoes and color theory, but I do. I know the do's and the don'ts about fashion, and because I know them, I can break them. :)

(If you really want to see someone who can defy the rules of fashion and break them in amazing ways, spend some time with my sister Lexia. She's like Picasso or Pollack. She looks completely unassuming in her flip-flops and unkempt hair, but I know that underneath that lazy smile, she's knows all the ins and outs of what looks spectacular.)

So I was at Lenox Mall yesterday, and I stepped into BCBG's. It used to be one of those stores that I just LOVED. There's still a hint of class left, but it's covered up by a lot of crap. They have a whole section now of clothes with the BCBG logo. And what's with the "bling" everywhere? Who says you have to have flash to look good? The clothes are made more cheaply now, too. The price should go down, too, then. Right? WRONG!

It seems like everywhere I turn these days, clothes are getting cheaper in quality and higher in price. It's absolutely rudiculus. Rudiculus!* And it's just completely hit or miss.

So, without further ado, I'm giving you two lists: Things I like about contemporary fashion, and Things I don't.

Here's what I like:

• Tailored clothes -- not too tight and not too baggy
  
• Polka dots
• Slightly puffed sleeves (not of the Anne Shirley variety)
  
• Colors!
• Half-sleeves
• Rounded-toe shoes, peep-toe shoes, and flats
  
• The Bohemian look
• Brightly colored heels
• Ties on women
• Knee-length skirts
• Knee-length shorts
• Feminine cuts
• Layers
• Stretch cotton
• Dark-washed jeans
• Long-waisted shirts
• Three-piece suits
• Sneakers (like Converse)
• Vintage tees
• Textured fabrics, especially on shoes
  

Here's what I don't like:

• Mini-skirts
• Tapered pants
• Blonde highlights on dark brown hair
• Pointy-toe shoes
• Too much skin exposure
• Cap sleeves
• Lingerie-inspired clothing
• Bling
• Faded and destroyed jeans
• Cleavage and long necklaces
• Little dogs in handbags
• Strapless wedding gowns
• Ankle stiletto boots
• Gigantic sunglasses
• Gold clothes and shoes
• Overplucked eyebrows
• Visible lip liner
• Dangerously low low-rise jeans
• Too many styles at once

* This misspelling is on purpose. Say it how it looks.

Each list really could go on and on. But I don't have enough time to think of everything. And I couldn't think of everything anyway. So please, readers, tell me what YOU think! What are the highs and lows of fashion?


Thing I'm thankful for: My mom's Color Me Beautiful book, which Lexi and I studied sometimes and which is still rather current, despite it's publication date of 1987. Good fashion rules are always in style!