My Gold Brocade Slacks

On the long journey to a healthy weight, during one of the more successful periods when the scale was going down instead of up, I went shopping at a boutique.  I love to stop in little boutique-ey stores and poke among the pretties but I never buy clothes in them. I never even look at their clothing. Small little shops that have one off clothing never have big sizes - and big in those shops means a 12. The humiliation of flipping through a rack of size zeros and ones is a powerful teacher and I soon learned to stop looking.

Still and all, that early summer day there was, on the rack of winter sale items, a pair of gold brocade slacks - slim cut in the hip and marked a size 12. Also, they were marked down from some triple digit price to something like $24. The fabric was rich looking, tightly woven in a textured arabesque, not shiny or vulgar, definitely a luxury cloth. The pants were lined, too and they were narrow at the point where one's leg joins one's torso and the top had a curved bias piece tapering into the waist with no waistband at all.

They also matched, perfectly, the Christmas fantasy image in my head of me in a pair of gorgeous tan/gold slacks and a big cream colored pullover sweater ... lounging on a big couch in an elegant living room, with a fire, candlelight, wine, some quiet music and oh - hmmm - George Clooney looking at me with gleaming admiration .

So - so.

So I actually stepped into that foreign spot - a boutique dressing room - and tried them on. Well. Hmm. I couldn't zip them up. I could pull them on, though and I could still see that they were cut to work with my type of body - zero behind, bony hip join, fluffy upper hip, pouchy tummy, not enough inches between hip bone and rib cage.  And though I don't believe in buying clothes that don't fit, not only because I have limited closet space, but also because it's a kind of rejection of self to spend clothing $ on some other body, I plunked down that $24 - because I also knew that I wasn't going to see these fantasy fulfilling slacks again and I was bound and determined to turn that fantasy into a reality. (well, maybe not the George Clooney part ... but you never know)

So I bought them.  I actually forget what year it was. They lived in the attic over the summer but came down in cool weather.  I know I couldn't zip them that first Christmas, but I remember the day I announced at the WW meeting that I could at finally zip them up. Maybe I wouldn't wear them out anywhere, but they zipped at last - and that was spring of 2012. Last winter I wore them several times - because they're so perfect that I can dress them up or down - wear them to work or on a date. I even found the big cream colored pullover sweater to wear with them last Christmas (and finding that was a hilarious tale of shopping with BD)

Last night we went to a Christmas Concert in town and I pulled out my Gold Brocade Slacks for the first time and put them on. They felt delicious with their slick lining hugging my thighs while the gold brocade hung freely in a straight line. The zipper made that exciting ziiiiiiip sound as it closed without a struggle. They feel so good and they don't bag at the seat or bulge out at the upper thigh. They make me feel like a Christmas ornament. They are that perfect garment that makes you feel utterly right - and then - lets you forget, completely, about how you look, so you can concentrate on the important things - things like
the beautiful music in glory to God. The delight in being with friends in a hushed and spiritual setting. The camaraderie afterwards when we gather to chat and wish each other good tidings. But they are also a reminder of how you want to still be wearing these wonderful Gold Brocade Slacks on Christmas day - so you can step away from the treat laden tables and pass on the white fruit fudge, the real ginger snaps and the pecan divinity.

Yep. There's nothing like a pair of Gold Brocade Slacks to help you stay on track during the holidays. I hope you all have your own version of them hanging in your closet - or better yet - laid out on the bed to put on tonight.

Is This What I Think It Is? (and a status report from Life-0-TheQueen)

 Is this an Oreo stuffed brownie? I'm already having a chocolate meltdown. I found this on a SparkPage as a sidebar add and the link is protected - evidently you have to be a member to get in and there isn't any way to become a member on their website. Or maybe it's my ancient computer or maybe it doesn't like Google Chrome for a browser or perhaps you just can't be from a red state .... even if Virginia isn't so red anymore. But the photo was worth drawing attention to and if you want to contact them, here's an email.  info@thefoodieshop.com  It's enough for me to just look at the photo and maybe that's enough for you too. Wow.

Anyway - I know you're here to find out what's happenin' at TheCastle and how Callie is. Callie is improving ... I'm tempted to say by leaps and bounds but we work very hard to keep her from leaping at least. She's done with pain pills and antibiotics and she's sleeping less - more like a normal dog - sleeping till something interesting comes along. She's still talking all the time - which is adorable and effective since if she ROWLEROWLs, her mama comes running and brings her a treat and snuggles. She gets very hot, very fast and would much rather sleep outside. She also seems to be growing still. Both BD and I think she looks a little bigger and a lot skinnier. We're adjusting her food daily.

Dr.L warned us that the pins might begin to push their way out of her bone ... sounds creepy to me ... and I think they may be shifting - because there's a slight puffiness where they'll take the pin out. Okay, okay, TMI. What this means is she's getting to the stage where she'll need to be watched more closely so that she doesn't do too much and injure a rapidly healing leg. Am I afraid we'll fail at this. Yes. But we won't. Just because I'm afraid of something doesn't mean I can't do it.

Not going there.

Instead, showing you how much she's enjoying herself and how Capt. Jack is taking advantage of the lowering of the bar around here.

In other news:

Last Monday I visited Mama with an old diary of hers and we read it out-loud and laughed with happy memories. It was from 1960 and it was full of our childhood and her vigorous youth. The day began hideously with a slushy snowfall so I got a late start. The idea had been to visit with Mama, check out the perfume at Sax 5th Ave that I will probably never buy, but at least wanted to smell, meet up with my sister and then window shop for spring clothes till late ... after the 5 o'clock rush hour. I managed to do most of that - though I had to skip the sniffing at Sax and I left before the rush hour - which seriously shortened the time I had to browse. Happily, sister and I had a great visit and I did score one fashion triumph. I have been longing for a pair of flowered skinny jeans. I had fun trying on the utterly wild ones in the Junior department of Sears - but as cute as they were, they were definitely too jejune for me. These, though - a pair of Jordache in a pastel flowered pattern - I picked up at Walmart of all places. Yes. I do love them. Yes. I don't care if I am 60 years old. Cute Cute Cute.

Fortunately I had gone through about half my warm weather clothes the day before because I have been in a spending mood for weeks - but it turns out the attic is full of cute clothes. I'll sort out the other half in the next week or two and once the budget season is over (ugh don't ask. it's horrible and it begins this week and I dread it.) I will celebrate by filling in as many gaps in my wardrobe as I can.   

Of course, a trip to the city is not complete without a stop by a Barnes & Noble. This time I hit the drawing books, partly because I was buying a birthday present for someone who is learning how to draw, but partly because I want to learn more too. As I've been playing with Zentangle® I finally admitted that I am in love with the cartoon fairy&dragon world of graphic novels. I don't like them as books but I love the pretty ones as artwork. Every Zentangle® I've drawn has cried out for a fairy and lately I've yielded to that cry. So. I would like to improve my cartoon fairy drawing skills and lo - there was a book! (Librarians' Credo  "Of Course You Can. It's In A Booooook!")  Click here to get this at a super sale price. 

I love this book because it's both an instructional book and a sketch book. There are lots of blank pages in it after each aspect of fantasy art they demonstrate. Of course - I bet it takes me a while to mar the beautiful white pages, but that's okay. I have lots of paper.  So here you can see how TheQueen has been spending her free time this week.

Yes. I do believe there is a story line. It's on its way. Patience. 

Strange Saturday and Sandy Preparations

Try as I might I have completely failed at quelling that anxious sensation about a coming storm. Usually I poo poo hurricane forecasts because hey - it's coming anyway. Nothing I can do to stop it. I am always somewhat prepared just because I like to have extras around the house. Also we're usually glad for the rain, though we didn't need all that Irene gave us. We could use some rain now, for that matter, though we're not suffering drought conditions by any means. But the thrum of angst - that energy which causes everyone to empty shelves in stores - is wearing.
This storm is moving slowly enough that it looks like it will ruin the first few days of the week - when I had planned to do Other Outdoor Things or Drive to the City, which I won't do in high winds. I'm glad I can drive a car but I am never in the mood to drive one. Many things can convince me to stay home.

Then - there is the threat of damage. I don't want to see trees down, I'm not in the mood for being without power as the long nights of winter take over from the lingering summer twilight. I don't want to see all the glorious colors stripped from the forest. grumble grumble grumble. Also - this low heavy cloudiness that presages the storm means I have to take my laundry into town to dry. Thank goodness I remembered Friday night, in time to do something about it, that, though the driers are fairly cheap to use, the washing machines cost a fortune in quarters now. You'd think if they're going to charge you $5 to use a washing machine they'd at least put a dollar bill box on the side.

Strange also is the fact that I haven't got a knitting project on the needles.

Ooops. Correction. I don't have an interesting knitting project on the needles. I am diddling with something made of brushed cashmere and silk that there is absolutely no hurry to complete - it's way too lightweight for the frosty weather of autumn. I also have the yarn to make an oatmeal aran - and only the last of the neckline to do to finish Bricca the Aran (which I may actually do if the weather shuts us in for days). I also have - not quite 50 shades of - Cascade 220 that would make the coolest looking intarsia cardigan. In fact it need not be intarsia, but I've been feeling like I need to knit something using that technique ... maybe even something with a random, serendipitous design.

Oh ... how typing that makes me laugh at myself. There's NO such thing as a serendipitous use of color. Oh - you may start out picking whatever looks good together - but after a while the project takes on a look - a color scheme that requires you to be deeply choosy about color just when you're getting tired of the garment and want to cast on something else. I can think of nothing more conducive to UFOedness than a random serendipitous colorwork project. Still and all .... I'm a little hungry for New Clothes ... or rather, Something New on my needles.



I'm just back from the Virginia Library Association conference - held, happily this year, in Williamsburg - where I am always glad to go, for many reasons, one of which is that the shopping is so interesting. Besides very quaint and often high quality reproduction stuff in the old town, there are the outlets - where, if you like only Jones of New York, or Anne Taylor, you can indulge yourself with whatever sartorial pleasures you're hungry for at slightly cheaper, outlet mall prices. The outlet malls have gotten so big now they require 3 stoplights on Rt. 60. I seldom have enough time to shop the entire length anymore. I'm usually either tired or short of time or with someone who wants to go into places I would skip, were I on my own. Friday, on the way home, I traversed the whole place.

And I was enormously glad I had spent last weekend sorting through and culling my winter clothes. Had I not, I know I would have spent several hundred dollars on lovely things that would not have fit in my small closet and 4 dresser drawers. (Of course - I could have another dresser drawer if I would only knit up the yarn I have stored in the bottom one) There are two things I need this fall - a down vest and a pair of dress boots and I didn't find anything that was exactly right ... and the dress boots are going to cost a bundle so I shan't buy anything that isn't perfect, while the down vests - of which there were dozens - were either of an unflattering fit or the wrong color. I would rather go vestless than wear something unflattering in either shape or color... and so I am. I will probably find the vest I'm looking for at Walmart.


The VLA convention is always associated with fashion to me because the first time I went - nigh on to 30 years ago - everyone had on the dark suit with silk blouse and foulard tie of John T Malloy's Woman's Dress for Success. I, otoh, did not own a suit and had only a plaid wool skirt with a matching sweater - something straight out of the Patty Duke Show. Back then, my wardrobe was limited at best and even then I wore jeans to work as often as I wore anything else. I did not return to VLA till I had a fancier wardrobe.

Yesterday I finished packing up summer clothes - culling from the heap all the saggy-but-serviceable t-shirts and baggy shorts, though I was unable to pitch the multiples that were in decent shape. I will do that in the springtime - at Tara. I did empty out a tub-and-a-half, so I put all the summer shoes into the empty tub. Usually they're piled in a heap at the top of the stairs. This year they are out of sight and stacked on top of another bin. Sweet.

I also managed to get the house tidy, dusted and vacuumed before we lose power - which the weather dot com guys assure us we will. I have water. I have kerosene lamps. I have battery powered lantern flashlights and extra batteries. I have a pot of chili. I have a gas stove. I have a basket of kindling and dry wood on the back porch. I have library books. I have yarn. I have watercolors. I will go fill the bathtub in a few minutes. I believe I am as prepared as I can possibly be. Now it's just a waiting game.

Take care all my friends in low lying areas. It will soon be better. At Tara.

Fall Cleaning

The truth is - I rather like housework. There's something precious about stroking my hands (or a dustcloth or broom or vacuum) over my things. I like to admire what I have on the buffet. I like to stroke my fingertips along some of the picture frames. I certainly love the way the house feels when it's completely dust free and, happily I can ignore the smudges on the fresh-paint-starved walls just so long as they're at least clean. But even something I really like, like chocolate cake or cheeseburgers or sweet woodsy perfumes, can be ... well ... just too much. With housework, it's a case of it too frequently lifting its nagging voice. If only I had to clean house about as often as I eat chocolate cake or cheeseburgers, why, I would say it's one of my favorite pastimes.

But the need for housecleaning doesn't show up once every few months. That need rears its ugly head with mind boggling frequency. You see, I live in a breezy (leaky) house. It's at the end of a long dirt lane. It's to the east of a big open field that gets plowed either once or twice a year. I have dogs. I live with guys. Mind now, those are all good things too, but they are not conducive to keeping a cleaned up house ... clean. In fact - it is my belief that any one of those conditions is a deal breaker when it comes to any clean house transaction.

Of course it's fun(ny) and easy to blame Others but TheQueen can't escape her own share of the responsibility. She is scattered and slothful. She's famous for just putting things down - not away. She is unfocused and while actually cleaning a house, must frequently stop to play essential games of Spider Solitaire. She has low standards. She has doors and an attic! She can pretend the clutter isn't there for long stretches at a time by simply refusing to acknowledge it..

But give her 2 or 3 days  home alone and boy can she do some scrubbin', sortin' 'n' tossin'.

Which is exactly what I have been up to for the past 2 days. First came the general Saturday house cleaning - what I'd do on any weekend. But because nobody was coming in, flopping down on sofa or bed and asking "are you done yet? Can I read to you? Do you want to take a walk?",  I could do things like, take down the pictures and dust behind them ... eew.  But because it's the end of October and surely a frost is nigh, I also swapped out more summer clothes for winter. And that's when the shameful part began.

I store the off season clothes on a long pole in the attic. A long pole, 3 large plastic tubs and a number of lawn'n'leaf bags - great emergency storage when you can't stand to look at this stuff one moment longer. Of course - once crammed into those bags and bins, the clothes disappear into Never Never Land and come the equinox or even a little before, when the New Fall/Spring clothes appear in the stores, it's easier to just buy another white turtleneck than to paw through forgotten containers upstairs. But because there was nobody I had to accommodate this weekend, I began tossing those bags and bins down the attic staircase and going through them and I tell you this. As gawd is muh witness, I'll never buy another white turtleneck again!

Frequently along the way I thought about taking photographs of the dread clutter but truth is - I was too ashamed. It's funny to write about but pictorial evidence is too lowering. I did take this snap of the give-away pile. There is a trash pile of stuff nobody would wear and another pile of maybe things. There are also 4 drawers of Enough Stuff. Plus all the summer stuff I need to make decisions about before I take those bins back upstairs. And I suspect, yea, even dread, there are More Hidden Lurkers still up in the attic. Ah well. I will make an attempt to get them all - but I shan't break my heart if I don't. Just so long as I can get to the Christmas ornaments in a few weeks.

LOL - and guess what I found in the bottom of the umbrella crock? All of Ike's old toys. Most of our pets have shunned toys for more canine pursuits, but a dozen years ago we had a big black lab named Ike, who absolutely loved toys. It was such fun to have a dog like that because you could actually buy presents for him. Callie-girl loves them too, especially the ones that squeak. She will play a song for you anytime she can find one. Jack not only doesn't like toys, he positively hates the ones that squeak. If Callie leaves one lying about he'll take it off and push it behind him.

What do you mean there's a dog on the
couch?

And now - it is Monday. I could use another day at home but we're short staffed this week. ThePrince will have to look after the pups and their toys. As for the rest of the clutter that is not yet put away... I'll think about that to morrow. At Tara. Where there ought to be servants to put it all away for me.

Why it's hard to keep a clean house when you live with dogs