Halloween Hues and Boo-tiful Coos: Scary Secondary to None

Wreath: Amazon

Skirt (a dress!): Zulily

Necklaces: Betsey Johnson, Macy's

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Amazon

Tee: Fifth Sun, Kohl's

Bag: Marshalls; Ring: PinkBopp, Etsy

Jumbo Jack-o-Lantern Necklace

Top: Nine West, Kohl's; Skirt: So, Kohl's; Bag: Cat & Jack, Target 

Where it's Bat Necklace

Remember when Halloween was all about black and orange?  I'm so glad that purple and green (and sometimes pink) have since been invited to the costume party.  Because a secondary color palette packs more roar for fierce fits and dark décor.  And I made the most of that with these outfits.  I've had the candy-colored clothes and accessories for many moons except for (interestingly) the celestial tee, Where it's Bat Necklace, and pumpkin purse.      

Clothes may make the witchy woman, but spooky season's stale without a festive read.  My pick?  This creepy cute collection of cozies:          

Capitalizing on the murder mystery cult classic that is the cupcake, the aptly named Halloween Cupcake Murder introduced me to a new coven of cozy queens.  In Carlene O'Connor's eponymous and Galway-based Halloween Cupcake Murder, a cupcake holds the key to the killer of a curiosity shopkeeper.  And also, bizarrely, a cult.  Yet this was far from the most curious tale in the trio.  Because Liz Ireland's Mrs. Claus and the Candy Corn Caper seeks to find not only who offed an elfin baker in Santaland, but who's peddling contraband candy corn in this most Christmassy of locales.  Still, it may be the third confection, Carol J. Perry's A Triple Layer Halloween Murder, that takes the cake.  In this Salem-set story, the sleuth investigates the disappearance of a bakery baron via her visions -- and collaborations with her cat.  

All three novellas are made for curling up in front of the fireplace to forget life's crazy.  Even if I read them in no such place, but between and during diaper changes and feedings.  Nevertheless, I enjoyed my escapes to these crime-riddled fantasy lands and may have even found some new go-to authors.       

But my biggest Halloween headline isn't about baubles or even books.  It's about, of course, our first Halloween with Charlotte.  Here are our family costumes, which we wore to my parents' Halloween party:

Yep, we're 3 Musketeers and the Three Musketeers, starring none other than Char Bar.  As with all our Halloween costumes, the husband came up with the idea.  Although it was my (somewhat desperate) idea to go with these dubious dresses.  You may notice that I edited the husband's to look like it was sort of part of his tee.  Ah, technology, the hallowed hobgoblin of social networking.

And with that I wish you the happiest of Halloweens -- the kind with no tricks and all treats. 🎃🍫👻🍬💀🍭👺🧁

When Life Gives You Lemons: Squeezing a Little More Out of Summer

Shoes: Jessica Simpson, DSW

Lemon Ice Nice Necklace

Dress: Nine West, Kohl's

Flower barrette: Capelli, ULTA

Bag: The Shoppes at the Asbury

Bag: Violet Ray, Kohl's

Guitar Shero Necklace

Pink top: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney; Orange top: Pink Rose, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

Shoes: Madden Girl, Kohl's

Bag: Mix No. 6, DSW

Kimono: Nine West, Kohl's

Scrunchies: Goody, Amazon

Happy Face Place Necklace

Dress: Lily Rose, Kohl's

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Amazon; Charm: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Skirt: Marshalls

Pink and Purple Rainbow Necklace 

Sunglasses: Wild Fable, Target

Shoes: Lucky Brand, Zulily; Bag: Skinnydip London, Macy's

Fifth Sun, JCPenney

You know the deal,

You've all heard my spiel.

When fall comes to call,

I just want to stall.

To bask in the sun,

And soak up the fun,

To borrow, no, steal

Summer's easy appeal.

But time must march on

Like the faded green lawn.

So I'll make the most

Of the pumpkins and ghosts

Before winter comes

And I'm really bummed.

My poem may not be Shakespeare, but it describes how I feel every fall.  Which is why I like to help obliterate the blues with a bold crop of tropical brights. 

Next stop October when I work through my fear of fright night with girly-ghoulish garb. 

Sleeping Through St. Patrick's Day

Belt: Marshalls

Top: Fifth Sun, Target

Boots: Betsey Johnson, Zulily

Skirt: Modcloth

Skirt: Rewind, Kohl's

Sweater: Paper Heart, TJ Maxx

Shoes: Katy Perry Collections

Skirt: XOXO, Macy's

Top: Kohl's

Shoes: Nine West, Amazon

Green bracelet: Parade of Shoes; Yellow ring: Making Waves, Ocean City; Yellow bangle: Silver Linings, Ocean City; Blue bangle: So, Kohl's; Red bangle: B Fabulous; Sunglasses: Zulily; Rainbow ring: Wet Seal

St. Patrick's Day is a lot like The Wizard of Oz.  There's the Emerald City, a rainbow, and munchkins that might as well be leprechauns.  Even the Wicked Witch of the West is green.  Oh, and then there's the matter of those decidedly March-like winds (you say tornado, I say [Irish] potato) picking up Dorothy's house and taking it up, up, and away into Oz -- or what we eventually discover to be dreamland.  Because dear Dorothy is sleeping, much as I appear to be in two out of three of these pics.  

Compact: Zulily

Blame it on the time change, the still-arctic air, or my lifelong challenge to keep my eyes open for flash photography, but being bright-eyed and bushy-tailed just wasn't in the cards for this post.  It's all kind of artsy, though, right?  Refusing to train my face for the camera, remaining immersed in my clover-clogged thoughts of shillelaghs and fresh hot cross buns.  Sure, we'll go with that.   

Just wake me up in time for Easter. 

Top Tops: Don't Sweat the Small Scrud

Left to right: Monteau, Marshalls; Violet & Claire, Marshalls; IZ Byer, Kohl's; Fifth Sun, Target; Jennifer Lopez Collection, Kohl's; ELLE, Kohl's 

I like to think of myself as an equal opportunity clothes enthusiast, but there's something special about a top.  Even that short-lived reboot of "The Odd Couple" recognized it.  I still remember Oscar's agent complimenting Teri Hatcher on her blouse, then saying something like, "Women love their tops."  And we do!  Especially in today's Zoom corporate culture when it's the only part of our outfits that people see.  It's certainly changed the way I look at my closet.  I used to build an ensemble around a skirt, a pair of shoes, or even a particularly rad pair of tights.  Now the top has to stand on its own, which means that I reach for the splashier ones more often.  I always wear them with a denim mini and my fuzzy slippers.  I've come to think of it as my uniform, and I really like it.

Still, wearing more clothes (clothes, that is, other than pjs) means washing more clothes.  Just as hanging at home means investigating domestic annoyances I'd usually ignore.  For example, for the last year or so, I've been noticing small, greenish-brown, plasticky pieces adhering to my freshly washed laundry.  They weren't stains because I was able to pick them off.  And for that I was grateful.  Nevertheless, the whole thing bothered me.  I mean, my clothes are like my kids.  And you don't want to throw the baby out with the bath -- or, in this case, laundry -- water.  Sometimes I'd toss everything back into the washer.  Yet at the end of each cycle, I again spied the offending debris.  I'd indulge in an eye roll but then move on.  Until recently.  After finding one remnant too many, I couldn't deny that I should get to the bottom of it.  My friend the Internet would have the answer, even if it was one I didn't like.

It turns out that my mystery marks are what is known as "scrud."  A combination of "soap" and "crud," the word scrud refers to a mixture of detergent residue and mildew that brews beneath your washing machine's drum.  When you run a cycle, the scrud sheet or roll or whatever breaks off into little pieces and lands on your clothes.  I was flummoxed.  The washer was supposed to get my clothes cleaner, not spray them with mold's answer to dandruff.  So, I went on Amazon, determined to find a scrud-buster.  I came up with a product called Affresh and ordered it.  All I had to do was drop a tablet in the washer and turn it on hot for the longest cycle.  The package said that I "might see residue" afterwards, but when I opened the lid, I was unprepared for the Pollack painting of strange, spinach-like strips clinging to the white spinny thing.  I was mesmerized yet disgusted, disgusted yet mesmerized.  Per the package (that dubious guide), if I had a particularly filthy and/or smelly machine, then I could run as many as four cycles.  I ignored that and used up the whole box, all the while hearing TLC's "Scrubs" on a loop in my head:  

"No, I don't want no scrub

A scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me

Hangin' out the passenger side

Of his best friend's ride (oh)

Trying to holla at me."

As TLC says, "a scrub is a guy who thinks he's fine."  Much like scrud, which tries to pass itself off as mere recycled soap.  Um, yeah, recycled soap scum -- and dirt.  Is pond scum copacetic because swans used to glide across its once pristine surface?  I think not.   

Anyway, I've (almost) made peace with the fact that scrud will be my unwelcome houseguest for awhile.  It'll dissipate after many cycles, the towels and other workaday items thankfully sanitized by the dryer's vigilante lint trap.  In the meantime, I'm resigned to picking the pieces off my drip dry dress clothes.  To that end, here's a happy band of ROYGBIV blouses (even if the blue one is clearly a tee shirt).  I'm proud to report that all are scrud free.  

If only I could say the same about my scalp and dandruff.