Monday, December 28, 2015

Into the Woods


______Honestly, I'm terrible at making holiday-themed posts. You all look so darling in your Santa hats, exquisite glimmering diamond necklaces, and thick glittering sweaters, and all with festive trees and twinkling lights as holiday backdrops.  Then you've got me, this dork who forgets to take pictures more and more each year because she's too busy shoving chocolate chips and Rolos in her mouth and calling it "holiday baking."

______There's a reason the recipe promises four dozen cookies when a mere two dozen of them emerge from the oven. I know: that darn dog, sneaking dough like that.

______I digress.  Thanks to the seventy-degree weather we faced this holiday season, as well as the impending threat of tornados and floods, winter fashion was sort of out of the question. Thus, I shall stick to words to describe our holiday season...


______I'm sure you all remember the elusive Northern Lights, the shouting bike man whose local dad cycling squad I joined a few months ago; well, his wife is actually quite the artist herself with quilting and baking, and I met her one day and she later invited me to a cookie decorating party! They're a young couple and likely some of the most genuinely kind people I've met. Gushing aside, she used to decorate cookies for money, and had the most impressive arrangement of cookie making supplies in the world: a massive drawer full of cookie cutters, from letters to states to various animals; a cupboard with a ROYGBIV-worthy selection of sprinkles and sparkles; and all sorts of decorating tools.

______So that day I brought home even more delicious baked goods for our household that is, even now, still brimming with sweets.


______He was very excited to tell everyone at the cookie party that I had given him the nickname of Northern Lights. He has yet to know he has a whole segment of stories about him on my blog, as well as a slew of followers who eagerly await hearing tales of his existence.

______He does not need to know.


Skirt: Urban Outfitters (exact)
Shrit: white shirt yo c'mon
Heels: Jeffrey Campbell
Necklace: Charming Charlie
Earrings: Charming Charlie
Ring: from the father unit

Monday, December 21, 2015

Below Seventy


______This week, the temperatures in the Land of Alabama (that's our official state name, don't you know) finally dunked below seventy degrees. I even had goosebumps on my legs, and was very thankful to remember to shave. I usually don't bother as much in the winter because one, legs are usually covered and two, it's not like anybody's feeling up on me anyway. Except my dog when he rubs his food-ridden dog-beard across them, using them as something akin to a scratching post for his smelly face.

______But I love him.


______He's been a good snuggle buddy this winter. Every time he plops down, I plop down beside him like a suckerfish on a shark for warmth and cuddles. Except it's much less symbiotic and more like he's struggling for his release while I put him in a chokehold. A loving chokehold. Full of kisses, adoration, and death-grip squeezes.

______But he loves me.


Jacket: Forever 21 (similar)
Dress: UrbanOG (similar)
Earrings: c/o BornPretty (10% off: ALT10)
Choker: NastyGal
Heels: ASOS (similar styles)

Monday, December 14, 2015

Fictitious Goat Encounter


 ______"GOATS FOR SALE," blared a sign from the distance. The sign was plastered to a tree, crooked from months or years of wind, and written in hastily painted red letters. A tuft of leaves fell over a part of the word "GOATS" like a punk rock singer's hair over one of his eyes, but it was still legible._Something within me stirred. Anticipation, perhaps. A hopeful taste of what was to come._

 ______I was biking up a hill and my eyes darted left and right, eagerly awaiting an awe-inspiring vision of goats with every downward push of the pedals.  An angelic choir sung in my head.  There were many farms around the back roads I biked, but they were always filled with horses or cows.  Never before had I seen goats.  The morning fog misted over my glasses as if a hoard of those winged babies that appear in Renaissance paintings was spitting on them, and it was quiet, quiet as could be.


 ______And that was when I saw them: beyond a wirey fence tamed only by the weeds curling around its gridded structure, there they were, all staring eyes and furry bodies that resembled something gone wrong in a synthetic fiber making plant.

 ______I slowed my bike to a leisurely pace and hopped off it, maintaining eye contact with the goats. The goats and I neared each other like two awestruck hipsters in a Starbucks who were about to compare beard lengths. 

 ______They were huddled against the fence, each squirming to get in front of the other, stepping on each other's hooves and shuffling about the grass. Their hooves stomped the dewy grass and some of them snorted and shook their gnarly little beards. A few "baaaa-ed" at me, their slitted eyes blinking, their heads undulating like fishing bobbers in water.


 ______"My dad doesn't believe in your existence," I whispered to the goats. They licked their furry goat-lips eagerly as if I was formulated from the finest rubber boots and day-old newspapers (I hear they prefer The Wall Street Journal over The New York Times). Alas, I was not made of such goat-enticing materials. I was only made of Ali, which is only rich in ingredients like local drugstore lipstick, fabric clippings, and cinnamon. I suppose the tennis shoes I was wearing at the time could have called out to them, but it was not likely.

 ______I carried on with my message to the goats.

 ______"He thinks you're not real. He doesn't believe me when I say I saw all of you." The goats listened intently, or perhaps they just wanted to gnaw at my tasty-looking bike tires. Rubber is a siren to goats, or so I've heard. You should fact check that. I definitely did not fact check that. In fact, I rarely fact check anything and the words I blog should never be cited in an academic paper.


 ______I continued, "I've seen you before and now I'm seeing you again."

 ______A goat with eyebrows fuzzier than the fuzziest caterpillar in all of fuzzy caterpillar land came forth.
 ______"He is not a believer," the goat said. Did that goat just speak? A car whizzed by rather closely and I increased my distance toward the fence. I whipped around to see a man in a red Ford giving me an odd look as he zoomed by.

 ______Did I hear that? I turned back toward the fence.

 ______And as if they were never there, the goats were gone.


Dress: KnowStyle (similar)
Boots: Corral
Kimono: Alter'd State (similar)
Necklace: ???
Earrings: Charming Charlie
Bunny ring: Claire's
Hair: styled by momma, as always :)

Monday, December 7, 2015

Stuck In The Middle


______Hello, butterbeans! I feel like I haven't posted in such a long while. Lately, I feel that everything I'm doing is in that awkward in-between stage, i.e. grad school applications, art projects, and attempting to clean out my closet. Just imagine that all those things are in middle school, confused, experimental, and wearing too much Hot Topic, and I'm trying to push them to high school.  We're talking jelly bracelets, knee-high striped socks, and a streak of pink hair.

______On the bright side, if I'm in the middle that means I'm already halfway there! I'm going to make like Salt n' Pepa and Push It.  Was that lame?


______So yeah, everything feels like its in limbo, sort of like this curious sweater thing that doesn't know if it wants to be a turtleneck or a crop top.  Because when you live in the South in December, you can wear these sorts of things.  A high of sixty-four degrees today, folks.  I'm not gonna lie that I love it.


Top: KnowStyle
Skirt: Charlotte Russe (similar)
Ring: vintage
Tights: similar
Boots: Lucky Brand (similar)