What I've been reduced to

Last week I got the bright idea to create a post on my clothing uniform. I wear nearly the same outfit everyday. It works for me. What I lack in creativity, I make up for in happiness. As I was creating the post, I had Scarlett take a few picture for me. I figured that she's old enough to take over as staff photographer. As she's snapping away, little Blythe crawls over to her grabs her legs. Scarlett is startled by the hubbub and drops the camera. On the baby's face. This is all happening in slow motion. My camera is far from fawncy, but she does the job. Chaos ensues and everyone is crying. I'm crying the most, I've got the most practice at it. Camera is broken forever. Scarlett is bereft. Blythe is bruised. At that moment a dear friend walks in my house and the illusion of my perfect life is shattered 

forever. (Hahahaha. Now that's comedy if you believe that.) This is what I'm reduced to:

Dirty mirror self pictures in the hallway on my phone. My uniform: cropped pants, blousy top, gladiator sandals, air dried hair in a braid. It screams, "MOM ON A MISSION!" 

Shirt- anthropologie

Pants- gap

We just got an anthropologie in town. It's pretty exciting for us(well, just me really. Thomas mostly gets excited over sports and politics). We have been suffering from a dearth in shopping variety around these parts. I've never been a big anthropologie fan, mostly because its quite cost prohibitive, but I think I'm going to turn into one of those people who foam at the mouth when given the prospect of venturing there for a looky loo. They just have fun stuff. And Thomas's new office is going to be in the building above it. This may prove to be a problem. 

Boom