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Wednesday, May 9, 2007

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The journey begins with a suitcase that refuses to be packed. THIS is the liability of perhaps too many clothes and the habit of taking about 30% more stuff on the road than will ever be used. I know I’m going to overpack; I know it’s insane; to stop the insanity I procrastinate packing. Neurotic OR brilliant?

But what is way more FUN (and another tragic avoidance technique)? Playing with my clothes!

I am heading up country tomorrow for my annual Pilgrimage to the Woods. It’s Mother’s Day this Sunday and I always travel to my Mother’s home in Michigan to bask in the love. Yes, Mother’s Day is a two-way street – lots of swell emotion zinging back-and-forth in both directions.

You can see part of my Gift to Mom above. Now why could an outfit of mine possibly be construed as present to anyone if I am wearing it?

Think of it.

If you are like many teen girls growing up in America (and probably globally) you’ve had more conversations with She Who Must be Obeyed than you can count about What They are Wearing — they being young women, usually with something showing that someone thinks should be under cover.

In My Family, that would be Legs/Kneecaps. Now I’ll admit, kneecaps, like most feet, are not the first answer to pass the lips when questioned on one’s favorite body part. Mine are doughy and chubbed to be sure (and that’s both aforementioned parts – we fondly refer to my feet as *pierogi*).

So the lovely lace skirt above will delight Mom – not only am I NOT wearing trousers (JEANS OMG!), but I am fabulously wrapped to below-knee in lots of fabric — two layers worth to be exact — and surprisingly, it looks quite smash with the navy waistcoat. (For some reason, naked arms in our house are quite OK, but I still might throw a little sheer black Tee under that top.)

Now what’s really important is Where this outfit is to be worn. At 11:30 am this Saturday, I will be in a rural church basement in the middle-of-nowhere. Well, Upper Lower Michigan to be exact but for you Urban Folk: Nowhere.

This is the site of an annual Mother’s Day Lunch – where the Men of the Church *cook* (serve food cooked by their wives) once a year to show their respect to all womankind. And hence, Part II of my Mother’s Day gift is given – my tongue normally arrives home later clove in two pieces from the frightful clamp that’s been on it for several hours.

Ahem. However, the actual location of this place gives me ample opportunity to fufill my Biological Destiny.

I am half-Polish.

And in our version of femininity, one must always be 10% over-dressed.

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Mommie – these shoes are for YOU!
Dziękują za cały piękne kobiety nasz rodzina!

Happy Mother’s Day Everyone!

 


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