Week 13

   I've only violated my dress code at work once and it was purely by accident. My favorite, absolutely FAVORITE pair of jeans had finally worn away at the knees by excessive use. The fabric thinned out, tore and then huge holes emerged with denim fringe hanging off the seams. You couldn't buy a trendier pair with pre-fabricated holes that would look nearly as awesome. People actually pay for that grunge look, whereas I worked long and hard and created it 'naturally'. So, one day at work while I was rockin'  my withering away J-Brands, one of my managers completely caught me off guard and scolded me for my attire. I forgot that bit about 'no holey jeans' in the dress code. I quickly turned red-face and flustered as if I was exposing my lace undergarments rather then just my bare knees. 

    Months ago I was on a date when my tube dress had slipped down to my waist and I was unknowingly showing off my Calvin Klein strapless bra for about a block and half down Fourth Street. That would have been a good time to feel embarrassed, but somehow that incident didn't phase me, I just quickly slide it back up (but I wasn't surprised when I was asked out on a second date). I think the 'holey-jeans' incident was so unnaturally embarrassing because when it comes to authority, work or school, I never, ever want to get in trouble. I remember last year, I was called into the office at work. Another one of my mangers sat me down at the desk and closed the door behind me. I felt like I was in the principle's office about to be reprimanded and I started to nervously shake. I was then given a raise with a positive review.

   Yep, I don't want to ever get in trouble, I'm a very good girl...most of the time. So, when I decided to wear a dress to work this week, I made sure there was no literature on 'no dresses" in the employee handbook. I also made sure there was no holes in the dress. I knew the time had come to bust out a dress at work because I had some major catching up to do. Not only did I break Rule # 5(no buying more dresses) on several occasions, but I also missed out on a golden dress-wearing-opportunity. I could have gone wine tasting in the beautiful Napa Valley, but I was once again sick for the majority of the week! 

  

    I figured, 'Why not wear a dress to work?' Why not wear a dress to work, it counts as a social excursion, right? I'm socializing with many customers and it's an excursion because I'm 'excursion-ing' to work! So, I picked out a sporty (and appropriate length) blue and pink Prana dress from my closet. I tried on several trucker hats to still try and dress it down. But you can't dress down a dress, especially with trucker hats(you end up just looking really silly).  I also came to the decision that it would be a great social experiment to see if  customers treated me any differently; I could blog about it! Would they discredit me because I dressed 'girly'? Would I get asked out by a hot bearded man with a Scottish accent, who wanted help picking out cams in the climbing department?? Or would a burly man in flannel walk in with his puppy husky( a service animal of course-no pets in the store) and compliment me on my dress? Oh the possibilities!

   And the end result was...er...um...very anti-climatic. It was no big deal to go to work in a dress. I sold a  bicycle and some tents. I helped with travel luggage and picked out a car rack for a customer. It was the same old- same old, just in a dress. The only dicey moment was when I had to step up on a ladder to remove a crash pad off the wall. I spotted a young male customer trying to peek up to my nether regions. And I wasn't sorry to disappoint him, I was wearing shorts underneath.Yep, dressing up was clearly not messing up. But mind you, I wasn't in heels or in a skimpy outfit. Perhaps that would create a different reaction? Yes, I could wear a fancy short dress with red high heels and document the responses! On second thought, maybe not... I think I would get called into the office and it wouldn't be because I was getting a raise. Nope, perhaps I'll just patch up my jeans instead.  

Acting very 'proper' in my work break room

And earlier in the week: I went out to Thai food in Berkeley for my brother's birthday

(Good thing I didn't wear that dress to work..I discovered moth holes that I covered up with a jacket...)

   

Week 12

   I have this fantastic and very comprehensive first aid/survival  kit that probably took a year for me to put together. It has everything, like duct tape, a headlamp, a snake bite kit, an emergency blanket, even a mini  bottle of Jameson and a small amount of emergency weed. If the zombies attack, I will be prepared, or at least I'll be super chillin'.  But when it comes to being ready for an impromptu dress excursion, I need to get my act together. After this last week, I've decided that I should keep an emergency 'get dressed up' backpack on me at all times, because I just learned you never know when you may need a dress.

   It's Thursday, around 3:30 pm and I'm about to get off work. I'm wearing  my usual and unexciting work attire. I'm exhausted and so ready to take off my shoes because my feet hurt because I forgot to put my insoles in my Salomons. Yes, I'm thirty now, I need insoles. In walks my buddy, Emily, and we decide that both of us could very much use a Happy Hour special. And then Wes says 'yes', he wants one too. Andrea wants to meet up with us as well.  All of a sudden, I have a crew of cohorts that want to go out and enjoy cold beverages and appetizers. What a perfect occasion to wear a dress! I HAVE to wear a dress because I know that my current count for the week is at zero and the week is almost over. But shootaroo, I don't have a dress! Yes, I have a growing number of them at home in my closet, but at the moment, I just have the clothes on my back. I'm wearing uncomfortable shoes, jeans that are too hot for the nice weather, and a shirt that is beginning to make it very apparent that I forgot to put on deodorant in the morning.

 CRAP. I say 'crap' not because I don't  have a dress, but 'crap' because I work in a place that I can too easily acquire one. And I know exactly which dress to buy because I tried it on a few days prior but resisted temptation. So that's done, it's decided. I put on the dress then look down at my feet. DOUBLE CRAP. I can't wear my Salomon shoes with my new pink and purple tie-dye Prana dress. Good thing I work in a place that has them? Before I know it, I'm checking out at the register with my new dress and some beautiful Olukai sandals that feel like butter on my tired feet. My workplace is a very, very dangerous site for me. I feel like a diabetic who has a job at Dunkin' Donuts or an alcoholic who works in a distillery.What can I say? I like to live on the edge.

  However, I have decided I can't always live on the heel of Achilles. It's time to be prepared with an emergency going-out-get-dressed-up backpack to avoid any future frivolous purchases. It will include the following:
A dress, deodorant, heels/sandals, a cardigan(not one of my outdoorsy fleeces), a hairbrush, electrolytes(because you can't go wrong with having electrolytes) and maybe I'll even throw in some red lipstick and eyeliner for the heck of it. That way, if the Zombies do come, not only will I be feeling calm and laid back, but I'll also be dressed for the occasion.

Just window shopping at a nearby store after enjoying drinks and appetizers.

 I already made my purchases for the day..

Week 11

   Flash back to the year 2010. Imagine mint green fields lined with crumbling rock walls; and as the green meets the ocean, stacked pancake cliffs separate the two dramatic landscapes.  I was twenty-seven, traveling alone, and I had found myself in the very small and picturesque town of Ballycastle in Northern Ireland.  My first night there I wandered into the local and only bar in town. I immediately spotted a very handsome bartender with very straight teeth (that's hard to find in Ireland). And after a couple of free beers and being completely wooed with his classic Irish accent I'm surprised I had withheld my urge to jump on top of him that first night. But after he asked me out on a date for the following evening, I was gitty like a schoolgirl and I cheerfully told my B&B host about my new date. Mark, my host, laughed at me when I told him I had a date with James the bartender. Apparently, I had just picked up an actual schoolboy, a nineteen-year-old who was studying to become a priest. 

   That was the first time I ever lied about my age. I'm not sure what happened, I intended to tell him my real age, but at the time, 'twenty-seven' just sounded so old, especially when I was about to go on a date with such a youngster! Somehow, 'twenty-five' just rolled off my tongue much more smoothly. Apparently saying 'nineteen' must of been as equally difficult for Irish James to spit out, and he told me he was twenty-one! I then learned that perhaps priests-to-be are allowed to lie. Nevertheless, I just couldn't corrupt such a young and holy man, so I kept it strictly a friendship relationship and I always wondered if he ever saw my actual age on my Facebook profile.

    Now flash forward back to the year 2014, to this last Saturday night, and I found myself in the same predicament. I ended up in a little, yet well known establishment called the Silver Peso (and while wearing a dress, of course). Prior to this, I had a delicious dinner and then a few margaritas in Tiburon with my accomplice, Andrea. So, while sipping my vodka club at the Silver Peso, a handsome young lad with blonde hair sat down next to me. I learned that this man, Ryan, is a carpenter, he was born in Hawaii but now lives in Mill Valley, and he wants me to teach him how to rock climb. Oh yeah, and he's only twenty-three. After he and his friends were shocked to learn that Andrea is thirty-one, I chose to quickly change the subject before they asked me my own age. Come on guys, thirty and thirty-one is not old!!! Geez! But, I suppose to a twenty-three year old it's all relative. So now, Ryan actually did follow through and he asked me out! Crap, I may have to say what, like ' twenty-seven' if he inquires? Yes, I like that, 'twenty-seven' now has a nice flowing sound to it. I figure a gentlemen shouldn't ask anyway, so if he does, a white lie is indeed justified. This time around, given his pirate ship tattoos on his muscular arms and mischievous smile, I doubt he's an inexperienced man of faith. And I would definitely not be corrupting him... 

   I'm feeling nostalgic and I'm curious about Irish James. I wonder if he ever did become a priest? He asked me before I left, if I would ever consider converting to Catholicism. My answer was no thanks then, but I'll keep drinking Guinness in his honor. Happy St. Patricks Day y'all!

I wore a summer dress out by the water in Tiburon, but it's not even officially Spring yet! Gotta love this weather! And I didn't wear a green dress this weekend but I definitely relived some Irish memories.

Week 10

   The search is over, it's official, I met him. It was an instantaneous connection. At first glance I looked into his bright, beautiful eyes and  knew I was already in love and that we should be together.  I acknowledge that my feelings are absurdly fast, but I just can't deny it! It's not like me to fall this fast or to be so smitten!  I'm ready to throw in the towel with the hunt for other guys, because I'm a goner, I just want him. I'm already fantasizing about a life together. I can picture us running side by side through a grove of redwood trees or along the beach at sunset. I imagine us curling up on the couch together to an old classic movie or going on all sorts of camping excursions.  And do you want to know the crazy thing? I think he was just as excited to meet me too!  With just our brief encounter I can already tell that he would be a fun, adventurous, and athletic companion. And I have no doubts that he would show me unconditional love and loyalty. His name is Oden and his breed: Siberian Husky, my dream dog... and I met him this last Sunday while wearing a dress.

   Combining five girls with bottomless mimosas and a trip to the Humane Society surely equates trouble. It started out innocent enough. It was a 'Girls Brunch' outing, and we got all dressed up in our Sunday best and took the term 'bottomless' quite literally as we drank mimosa after mimosa. Some folks may go to church on Sunday and that's cool, but for me, if I'm getting dressed up 'fancy' on a Sunday it probably means one thing: brunch and mimosas. I think it may of been Sally's idea to go and look at dogs and before we knew it we were in front of the Marin Humane Society.

   Those who know me well, know that Siberian huskies and malamutes are my favorite dogs. Those breeds are my spirit animals, my symbols for magic and joy and whenever I see either kind I take it as an omen that something good is going to happen. I also tend to emit those familiar 'girly' noises (most typically heard around tiny babies). I make high pitched sounds like 'oooohhhh' and 'awwww' and then I proceed to continuously hop up and down, clapping my hands with excitement. I'm not sure when this behavior began or how old I was when I first fell in love with huskies and malamutes, but somehow my fear of 'wolf-like' dogs morphed into pure love. 

    "The dog! Haha!You were named after the dog??!!"

    Actually, I do remember when I  first saw a malamute. In the beginning of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, there are scenes shown of young Indiana and for a brief glimpse we see him walk by his pet, a beautiful, big dog, a malamute. We later learn that Indiana was actually the name of the dog, and Harrison Ford's character's real name was Junior. 

At the very end of the movie, as they're riding away on horseback, Sallah teases him for changing his name to the dog's name, "The dog! Haha!You were named after the dog??!!" 

Indiana responds, "I've got a lot of fond memories of that dog."

 Yeah, I feel ya Indiana, I don't blame you for changing your name, I liked that dog a lot too!  

  Since grown huskies and malamutes already melt my heart you can imagine how I respond when it's a PUPPY version!  And there he was, I was transfixed  before I could even get out of the car. Little Oden was out for a walk in front of the Humane Society. Right then and there I knew I was so done for. He greeted us with pure excitement and a ferociously wagging tail. And given his little red rocket my friends joked that we were like-minded creatures with similar priorities and that it was a sign that I should adopt him. 

  Although I'm in love, I still don't know where my fate with Oden lies. He's not up for adoption yet, but I put my name on a list. I don't know if seeing him was simply that good omen or if he's meant to be my wee little puppy. If I don't end up with Oden, at least I do know one thing. Without any doubt, I do know that someday I will have a puppy malamute or husky. Perhaps I'll name him Indiana...

Dressed up for Sunday brunch in yet another Anthropologie dress. After our dangerous jaunt to the Humane Society, we then proceeded to take another risky field trip to Anthropologie (I can't recall who's idea that was, but I think I have a good suspicion)When I left that clothing store empty handed, my friends applauded my un-successful shopping trip. But I was probably so well behaved  because I was in a puppy-daze. 

The culprit of my puppy daze, Oden

Week 9

   I'm not saying that I don't agree with that saying, “the best things in life are free".  I do agree with that statement. For example, love is free and I think most everybody else would comply its probably the top pick for important stuff in life. I'll just be cheesy for a quick second: Love you share for friends, family, romantic partners, for yourself, all the important people- is the cream filling in the 'pie of life'.  And enjoying the beauty of nature, of 'mother earth' and embracing the pure joy of being alive is absolutely FREE. But with that said, come on, we all know better then that !!! Spending a few bones, bucks, or Benjamins never hurt(well at least not physically) and honestly, it does make it all a lot better. For example, a plane ticket to Hawaii can be kind of expensive, but it certainly aids me with fully appreciating this beautiful earth! Swimming in crystal clear water with sea turtles off a tropical island is free, but it just took some money to get there (and I've invested some money in a good snorkel as well). 

   Appreciating the pure rush of being alive is totally amplified when being hurled 500 feet off a bridge on an elastic cord. And watching the Northern lights do their exotic dance in the night sky above the Arctic circle I can only describe as purely euphoric. Being pulled in a sled by huskies in a snow covered valley was one of those unforgettable moments in my lifetime. And rock climbing up granite rock faces in Yosemite is not only exhilarating but definitely makes me cherish my life. Those moments or feelings of bliss are free, but they were created from those events, travels, and activities which definitely cost a lot more then a pretty penny to get out or to get the gear. Money doesn't buy you happiness, but it does buy you the ticket, rope or reins to get you there.

   And friends, they’re free, well hopefully most are. But going out and doing fun things with friends does indeed take some cash. It doesn't need to be a lot, but if you’re going on a hike, it may take some gas money to get to the trailhead. Or, let's say if you're camping and sitting by the fire, the marshmellows you're roasting weren't free, pretty close to it, but not free. In my recent case, I paid a $10 cover charge to hear a live country band at Rancho Nicasio this last Friday night and it was worth every dollar.  Laughing, dancing and learning the steps to 'Copperhead Road' with some girlfriends was the best (and free) part but it just came at a small cost to get inside the doors. So, I have to admit to myself that I may not have to spend money, but I want to because it's fun. I suppose I just need to figure out where and how I want to spend it. I think they call it "budgeting.' Interesting, such a new concept for me, but I'm learning...

   In the somewhat successful attempt of saving some money and enjoying the sunshine, this last Sunday I went to the Treasure Island Flea Market in a dress to do some of my own treasure hunting. It was a beautiful day and only cost $3 to enter, not free but almost. And I found some authentic $12 cowboy boots, which I put to good use on Friday. That was a totally justified purchase. 

Friday night: dressed up country, danced country, and listened to country

(Thank you Andrea for teaching us some country line dancing steps!)