Of Course I'll Use Them. They Were Only $12.

Anthropologie, oh how I adore thee. I spend countless furitive minutes at work gazing at all your loveliness online. Unfortunately, I am usually restricted to your sale racks and candles. Many times I have looked at all the adorable aprons in the home section and compared their $32 price tag to the dresses that call and taunt me with $298 price tags, and thought, "Hmmmm...couldn't I just sew some fabric to the back of that apron and Voila! Post-modern one-side only patterned couture!

Anthropologie aprons. They're kind of like the whatever it is that Audrey Hepburn goes to buy at Tiffany. Hairpin? Keychain? I can't recall. Anyway, the moral is that they are a bit of prettiness that I don't have to reconcile with my electric bill.

Except, I don't really cook. Not really, like need an apron, flour on the forehead cook.

Sometimes, I find a recipe and manage to eek out something not covered in flames and tears, but usually, despite my love affair with the vanished Gourmet magazine and Epicurious, I don't spend much time in the kitchen.

But, I use glue guns! Sometimes! I paint. Cute girls in Martha Stewart photos are always doing all their crafty painty gluey things in aprons while drinking lattes. I like lattes.

I digress.

Last weekend, I was at Marshall's to return some things and stumbled upon adorable aprons that reminded me so much of the coveted but possibly useless ones. They were $12.99 each, so I bought two.

And then, I discovered a funny thing... my $12 apron was exactly the same as their $32 apron.

Yay me! :) Time to sew some cookies...er...um...glue something.

Getting Things in Order

I make lists. I make lists of my lists. A few days ago, I wrote, "make lists" on one of those lists. I was serious.

Sometimes I wonder if I might be more excited about the idea of getting "organized" than the actual doing-ery of it.

The lists themselves have no real cohesiveness. I saw one crumpled on the bottom of my purse, written on half a sticky-note last week that read: "laundry, manicure, armadillo, falafel". It probably made total sense to me at the time.

More than anything, I like to feel the inky slippery scratch of the pen writing down all of these hypothetical futures. The meals I plan not to burn, the pulled-together look I'll surely accomplish with those particular Anthropologie earrings, the yummy falafel lunch I'll have with the armadillo.

I begin to think my subconscious was trying to tell me to write "make lists". It wanted me to check something off and feel accomplished.

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