I've Got to Hand it to Tammy . . .

 Dessert Dreams Necklace

Sweater: Eric and Lani, Macy's

Skirt: Eric and Lani, Macy's

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

 I Heart Desserts Brooch

Sweater: Marshalls

Camisole: So, Kohl's

Skirt: Forever 21

Shoes: Payless

Bag: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Scarf: Gifted

Sweets Table Tribute Necklace

Sweater: Eric and Lani, Macy's

Tee: City Streets, JCPenney

Skirt: Decree, JCPenney

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

. . . because she doesn't have any.  Hands, that is.  I realized how lucky I was to have mine last week when I had something (innocuous) removed from my left palm.  One of the side effects was the formation of a huge, snow globe-like blister.  Although perfectly harmless (according to my nearest and dearest and health care professionals), it made everyday tasks such as getting dressed, opening doors, and typing darned inconvenient.  Crafting, of course, was out of the question. (I made the stuff in this post the week before.)  I avoided using my left hand, so as not to burst my bulbous pink bubble, marveling at my hand-le (ha ha ha) on adversity with all of the self importance of a chick lit heroine broadcasting her triumph over a paper cut.  

All dramatics aside, the incident made me think about how much worse off I'd be if it'd been my right hand, or if I didn't have two hands at all.  I'm going to remember that the next time I'm wire-wrapping or cutting a smorgasbord out of felt.  Also, I'm going to be extra nice to Tammy.     

Packaged Up Pretty

Sometimes, I buy stuff just because I like its packaging.  Like this almost-certainly-icky-tasting-albeit-candy-shop-cute gum (it contains Aspartame), or this pretty-in-pink shampoo and conditioner duo that has no anti-dandruff agents whatsoever (this mane of mine is like a ski slope).  But the mother of all package-driven purchases is this fabulously retro Love's Baby Soft variety pack.  It's haunted me from the shelves of Rite Aid for the past couple of Christmases, only to vanish on the very day when I march in ready to make it my own.  So this year, when I saw those familiar pastel bottles winking at me from behind their cellophane, I knew that I had to act quickly.  Not only do they smell scrumptious, but they take me back to when I first bought a similar set at JCPenney with my allowance money, a memory so fuzzy that it made me consider picking up a second box for the holiday toy drive at work.  But the more I thought about it, cologne, however juvenile, didn't seem like donation material, so I went with a selection of Barbies instead.  Which, to be honest, I also sort of secretly coveted.