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. 

Christmas Cardinal: Direction Connection

My cozy Christmas reading has come to an end, but the book gods saved the best for last.  I don't know how else to begin except to say that if you don't cry at the end of Fannie Flagg's A Redbird Christmas, then you've got a real Tin Man situation.  

Fifty-two-year-old Oswald T. Campbell has gone through life as an orphan -- and an alcoholic -- but is unprepared for the blow that he's dying of emphysema.  His doctor warns him that if he doesn't move from Chicago to someplace sunny, then this Christmas may be his last.  As nearly penniless as he is friendless, Oswald can't afford to relocate to Florida or Arizona.  So his doctor gives him an old brochure for a health resort in Lost River, Alabama.  Once Oswald learns that the price is right, he packs his few possessions and heads south.  

Lost River turns out to be the warmest place Oswald's ever been, both in climate and hospitality.  And so begins this classically poignant Flagg fable of small town strangers full of kindness (as well as calorie-laden, home-cooked meals that save instead of stop hearts).  Oswald makes fast friends in Lost River.  What's more, he's struck by the town's quiet beauty, discovering a love of nature that calms him even as it sparks his soul.  Soon he begins to feel better; his cough subsides, and he's no longer tempted to drink.  Yet despite its healing power, Lost River harbors tragedy.  There's Roy, the lovelorn shopkeeper, and his broken-winged pet redbird, Jack.  And Patsy, the disabled six-year-old from an abusive family who trusts animals but not people.  Flagg weaves the threads of this deceptively simple story to reveal that Roy, Jack, and Patsy are lost yet connected and that Oswald has come to Lost River, unbeknownst to him, to find them -- as well as himself.  What transpires will make you believe in magic, at Christmas and always.    

Now, if I'd stumbled upon A Redbird Christmas as recently as even last week, then I would've saved my cardinal bush for this post.  But as luck would have it, I have another set of bird ornaments (this time from Hallmark), and one of them just happens to be a cardinal -- or as they say in Lost River -- a redbird.

I also have this barn ornament (from Kohl's), which doesn't have much to do with anything except that 1) it's folksy and red and 2) I made a barn barrette when I blogged about another Flagg favorite, The Whole Town's Talking.  See?  Everything is connected!

Easter may have dibs on rebirth, but A Redbird Christmas shows that anyone can become whole again and that there's no better time for it than Christmas.  Because the blue bird of happiness may get all the glory (and the Disney credits), but it's the redbird of redemption that makes life worth all the worms.  Okay, bad analogy; birds love worms.  But I don't, so I'm sticking with it.

That said, merry Christmas Eve.  Of all the nights of the year, this one glows with the most anticipation (yes, even more than you, New Year's Eve; no one wants your tired tiaras).  I hope that yours is happy and that at least one thing you wish for takes flight. 

Land Sakes, it's Land O'Lakes: Time for a Crustacean Vacation

Shoes: Nine West, Kohl's; Bag: Elizabeth and James, Kohl's

Whenever I hear the word "buttercup," I don't imagine a field of flowers.  I see a silver ramekin brimming with melted Land O'Lakes, a plump lobster glistening by its side.  Maybe that's why I plopped this pair of yellow pumps and matching bag on top of a tropical print place mat.  It's like my own sartorial-meets-gastronomical getaway, a tiki hut hideaway of indulgence tucked into my mind.    

If the top pic represents golden goodness, then the bottom one is seafood sans the sizzle.  And by sizzle I mean, of course, butter.  You know the sound it makes in the pan when you heat it up to fry a grilled cheese?  Well, that's what I hear in my tiki.  Because the ramekin is really a cauldron, a bubbling little crock of a pot running on rebellion and Sterno.  As for the unbuttered version, it's beautiful too, albeit restrained, like a too gourmet meal or an early bird special. 

That's why it's so fun to celebrate food and fashion, two of life's simple yet frivolous pleasures.  What would the daily grind be without their pop and sparkle?  All granola and gunnysack dresses, I guess.  So I make it my business to enjoy them.  Which means pass me the butter -- but make it the light kind, please.  Epicurean or not, I don't have a death wish.  As the song says, build me up buttercup, but don't break -- or, in this case, clog -- my heart. 

So, be bold, go for the gold, and follow the yellow brick road to your tiki.

And be sure to lock the door in case Dr. Oz comes a knocking.

Flip This House; Fling This Bling

Darla Doll Charm Necklace

Top: Worthington, JCPenney

Skirt (a dress!): Macy's

Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bag: Marshalls

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

Belt: Marshalls

Marvelous Mock Rock Necklace

Top: Candie's, Kohl's

Skirt: Modcloth

Shoes: Chinese Laundry, DSW

Bag: Gifted

Belt: New York & Co.

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

Egg McBluffin Charm Necklace

Top: Macy's

Skirt: H&M

Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's

Bag: Bisou Bisou, JCPenney

Belt: Kohl's

Sunglasses: So, Kohl's

Izzy Insta Glam Necklace

Top: Rampage, Macy's

Skirt (a dress!): Macy's

Shoes: Charles Albert, Alloy

Bag: Nordstrom

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

 Merry Cherry Berry Necklace

Top: Candie's, Kohl's

Skirt (another dress!): Modcloth

Shoes: a.n.a., JCPenney

Bag: Nahui Ollin

Belt: Marshalls

Deco Diva Necklace

Shrug: The Limited, Marshalls

Tee: Marshalls

Dress: JCPenney

Shoes: Guess, DSW

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

Belt: Cape Charles, VA shop

If you watch DIY or HGTV (or, you know, breathe), then you know that flipping houses is a thing.  People buy old homes for a song, fix them up, then resell them for a symphony.  Like any artsy-fartsy soul, I love the idea of making something old new again.  Or better yet, making something new even newer.  Which is why I bought these clearance necklaces from big box stores and embellished them to sell on Etsy.  The only difference is that my prices aren't nearly as inflated -- that, and a necklace goes wherever you do, whereas a house ventures only as far as the mailbox.  Of course, these days that's changing, what with Tiny House, Big Living and Tiny House Nation catering to wanderers who don't mind squatting on their parents' lawns.    

So, what's up with the second part of this post title?  I'm not sure.  "Fling this bling" doesn't sound like the real estate pun I'd intended (hey, punning ain't easy), but more like 1) a wealthy old dowager tossing off her pearls as she swings from a chandelier, or 2) an ill-fated tryst between a topaz and a diamond.  It's an old story.  Diamond's dad thinks that Topaz isn't good enough for Diamond, and Topaz's mom thinks that Diamond is too much of a princess for Topaz.  In a sort of reverse Romeo and Juliet move, the disapproving parents toss each other's offspring into the ocean, then run away to the Emerald City to head up a Munchkin outreach program.

Sigh.  Fine jewelry can be so dramatic.  That's why I stick with humble synthetics.

Hoop Memes and Football Teams

 Sour Apple Sparkle Necklace

Top: JCPenney

Skirt: Boscov's

Shoes: Bongo, Kohl's

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Relic, Kohl's

 Seahorse of Course Necklace

Red top: Kohl's

Tank top: Marshalls

Skirt: Byer, JCPenney

Shoes: Payless

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Mudd, Kohl's

Boho Rainbow Necklace

Top: Alloy

Jeans: Bongo, Sears

Shoes: a.n.a, JCPenney

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: JCPenney

Today may be Super Bowl Sunday, but here at the Trove, the hoopla is all about the hoops.  And why not?  The brown wooden hoop pendant that serves as the focal point for all three of this week's necklaces is as rustically Midwestern as Hoosiers itself (carved girly floral motif notwithstanding) and boasts a 1970s vibe to boot (or maybe I should say to sneaker).  I gave each one its own personality by doing what I love to do best -- gluing stuff to other stuff -- to turn these bench warmers into first string (er, wire) style stars.  So, channel your inner Jackie Moon (because Semi-Pro was set in the 1970s, and who doesn't love a Will Ferrell reference?) and meet the team!

Sour Apple Sparkle

An apple a day keeps the doldrums away -- especially if it's a Granny Smith doused in glitter.  Fiona here knows how to play to win, even if the music of one Ms. Apple was harvested sometime in the 1990s.  I think that Fiona could probably hold her own in the 1970s, though, what with her super-long hair, boho clothes, and feminist lyrics.  Plus, she could belt out a badass ballad with the best of them, so we'll just let this anachronism slide, slide, slippity slide for the sake of this post, much like (necklace, not songstress) Fiona does across the basketball court.  Even if I just committed another anachronism by quoting a Coolio song from the 1990s.     

Seahorse of Course  

A horse is a horse, of course, of course, and no one can talk to a horse of course that is, of course, unless the horse is the famous  . . . Mrs. Edna.  Sweet and sugary in shades of peach, mint, and buttercream, this seahorse-studded stunner wages a wave of whimsy against the chocolatey earth of her own land-locked hoop.  Yet this pony of a paradox doesn't end there.  Despite her penchant for pastels, Mrs. Edna is no powder puff (I managed to sneak some football in there after all); she's a surf and turf toughie who plays by the rules, her only traveling from the ranch to the beach.

Boho Rainbow

And finally we have a contender that captures all the colors of a Kansas rainbow.  In a sunny salute to the Age of Aquarius, Rainbow knows how to bust a move on the court -- even if it is the mall food court (hey, she's not last in our lineup for nothing).  Fruit salad for her please, and make it a large; Emerald City sister or not, this miss is no munchkin.  More cheerleader than three-pointer powerhouse, Rainbow makes up for her lack of athletic prowess with her tenacious team spirit.  Because a diet of fruit always keeps you going.  Just ask Fiona.    

And that brings us to end of the game.  As they say in sports and accessorizing, go big or go home.  Because the bigger the hoop, the bigger the . .  well, you know.

Here's hoping your bowl was super duper.  

Book Report: California Holiday by Kate Cann

Today I finished California Holiday, brought to us by Kate Cann, author of Spanish Holiday and Grecian Holiday. Before I go on, though, I must say, SPOILER ALERT! Awhile back I promised I'd start sounding that alarm, and I've finally decided to make good on it.

Offbeat and frothy, California Holiday is the story of Rowan (nice name, huh?) and her escape from the boredom of England, her parents, and college. Taking the advice of a friend, she signs on with a nanny agency and accepts a job in Seattle. As one may predict, Rowan arrives in the States with her sites set on glamour and adventure but is blindsided by the proverbial family from hell. The mom is a demanding, cheapskate workaholic, the dad is a lecherous drunk, and Rowan's room is a closet with no way out save through her four-year-old charge's room. Rowan's only confidante is the dad's pet iguana, Iggy, who endures a caged existence on the roof deck. Unfortunately, hanging out with Ig means hanging out with the creepazoid dad. He inevitably makes a move on Rowan, then tells her that the wife is planning to have Iggy put down. Both incidents are enough to send Rowan packing in the dead of night, the caged and concealed Iggy in hand as she boards a Greyhound bus in search of a better life for her (hotel work) and Iggy (wide open spaces).

Almost immediately she meets a too-handsome-to-be-true guy about her age who says he can get her a job at the hotel where he works. His name is Landon, and he's pretty shifty. I'm fairly sure he's going to steal from Rowan or abandon her or something, but he surprises me by securing her a hotel nanny gig as promised. Even so, his suspect behavior persists as he smarmily tries to get her into bed. Gaga for this beautiful stranger, it's what Rowan wants too -- just not yet. So, Rowan and Landon set up in separate rustic lakefront huts provided by the hotel. The nanny job turns out to be more of a preschool teacher position that requires Rowan to supervise art projects, then return for the eight to midnight shift to monitor children in their hotel rooms via baby cams while their parents party down. It seems a grueling, gloomy existence (and certainly one that would send this reader screaming), but Rowan quickly earns the respect of her no-nonsense boss and the friendship of her colleagues. As for Landon, the games with him continue, heightened by the return of his old flame. By this point, I'm certain than Rowan will finish out the summer and then return home to England, wiser for her experiences, but ultimately realizing that home is where she belongs. Kind of like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, minus the flying monkeys. Such a prediction probably comes from reading too many similar stories but also from filtering the plot through my own personal lens. Which is to say I would have been homesick after providing nanny services and iguana safe houses on another continent. But then, I probably wouldn't have taken off on such an odyssey in the first place.

What actually happens is this. Rowan quits nanny job number two and hightails it to Mexico, where Iggy can really roam free. Landon is devastated to find Rowan gone and follows her to Mexico where he, she, and Iggy live happily ever after. It's implied that Rowan may return to England to go to college, but also that she may not.

So much for my predictions.

California Holiday was fun to read, though. It put me in mind of mangoes and umbrella drinks and shell-encrusted surfs. Not a bad place to be on the far edge of winter.