Day 8 - Sister-in-law L.O.V.E.

The people in my life are pretty incredible - my husband, my friends, my family.  They all have a great impact on many of the things I do (or don't do).  I think the person, though, that provides me with the best advice without even knowing it, is my sister-in-law.  I have known her now for 10 years, and she is one of my best friends.  We talk every day... literally every day.  And if we don't talk every day then, when we do finally catch up, we are usually telling each other how much we missed each other.  We don't always talk about things of importance.  In fact, I would say, we rarely talk about things of importance, but I look forward to our chats every time.

We have a lot in common.  We both have an unhealthy obsession with shoes.  Zappos, DSW, Macy's, Nordstrom - you name it, we have shopped there, bought there, returned there.  We both love dressing up - but not too dressy of course.  We own several of the same outfits, so we have to make sure that we are not copying one another when we attend family events.  I think thats cute.  We love big, comfy scarves from GAP; well, who doesn't??  We prefer wedges over stilettos.  We like cute socks - socks are part of the outfit, people!  We are Bachelor/Bachelorette junkies - despite the fact that our friends may think we are spending time watching mindless TV.  We are not label obsessed - but we recognize good quality when we see it.

Cait is wise beyond her years.  I have said, for a long time, she has an old soul.  She speaks her mind, which is something I admire like crazy.  I am a people-pleaser.  I will say and do anything to make the people around me happy (then I complain about it behind closed doors).  Not Cait.  If she doesn't like something, she will be honest about it.  She says it in a tactful way, but you better believe that if she is unhappy, she is not going to do/say/wear/watch anything that she doesn't love.  I wish I could do that.  She is passionate and emotional (like me), but she is level-headed, and clear-thinking (not like me).

Even when she is going through the most difficult thing in her life, she manages to say or do something that brings positivity to my life.  I am so freaking lucky to have her as a sister-in-law, and as a best friend.  

Day 7 - The Broken Blow Dryer

Welp, it happened!  My blow dryer officially crapped out on me.  It had been underperforming for quite some time, but I eventually came to the end of my rapidly fraying rope.  Two mornings in a row, before work, I was blowing drying my hair, and the dryer would just stop.  My head would still be flipped upside down.  The hair was not even close to being dry yet.  And I certainly hadn't started my cool down.  Yes, I cool my hair down after I blow it dry with high heat.  I was told once that by blowing the cool air on your head upside after you blow it dry would help keep volume.  I thought for a while that technique was working, but now I am not so sure.  I have become a creature of habit, so I just continue cooling the hair down.  It's funny, too, because if you know me, volume (in my hair) is not exactly a regular occurrence either.  I have to work incredibly hard to get any sort of volume in my straight, fine, blond locks.  And lots and lots of Big & Sexy Hair spray! 

I stopped at Wal-Mart one day after work (which was an adventure in and of itself) to pick up a new blow dryer.  I had originally planned on going to a beauty supply store on the way home, but I was rudely reminded that it had closed, and in it's place stood a vacant building with "For Rent" signs in the window.  That sucked.  So in Wal-Mart, I am walking around aimlessly trying to find the overhead sign that read "Hair Supplies."  BINGO!  Walking down the aisle I came across one type of blow dryer - for $48.99!  FOR A BLOW DRYER???  You've got to be kidding me?!  Unless this blow dryer came with it's own personal hairstylist that would take a round brush to my hair each and every time I used it, then there was no way in hell I was going to pay that amount.  And at Wal-Mart??  No thank you.  I would rather drive to work with the car windows down and dry my hair that way (it might be hard with these sub-freezing temps, but again, a sacrifice I was willing to make to avoid spending nearly $50 on a gizmo that generated hot air).

I looked at the aisle next to this aisle hoping to find more options.  Nothing.  I turned back, and for a moment thought my fate was failing me and that the $50 blow dryer was my only option.   And then - there it was - the blow dryer mecca!  There were dozens of blow dryers (right across from the original one - had I just turned around the first time).  There were blow dryers as cheap at $14, and of course the $50 ones.  From what I could tell, they provided the same thing - hot air, warm air, cold air, 1875 watts, and attachments for various styling methods.  How, then, could one cost so much more than another?  I didn't want to purchase the cheapest one for fear that it would break mid-dry.  I certainly couldn't justify spend $50 either.  So I went with a middle-of-the-road, $23 blow dryer.  So far, so good.

It's amazing how the little things add up so quickly.  $11 face lotion (which is cheap), $9 mascara (also cheap), $20 hair spray (a little much, but totally worth it), a $65 hair cut (no comment).  The list goes on and on.  Maintaining a certain level of "put-togetherness" is quite costly for women.  Men have no idea how good they have it.  Sure they may have those little expenses every once in a while, but the amount of time, energy and money that goes into a woman's routine grossly outnumbers their's.  So the next time a woman takes a little longer (or a lot longer) than you to get ready, recognize that she is a) doing it for you, and b) taking advantage of those investments that she made prior.  You may be annoyed because you are waiting, but be glad that she isn't wasting all the money for nothing!

Day 6 - The Jean Shirt Debacle

I like to think of myself as being "trendy."  I may be late on trends, or I may not like trends, or I may not be able to personally pull off a trend, but I tend to be in-the-know thanks to my fashion-forward BFF Whitney.  She is much more brave when it comes to fashion than I usually am.  I admire her fashion sense.  I admire her ability to make anything look cute.  Yes, I am brown-nosing.  No, it's not for any reason other than the fact that she rules and exudes general awesomeness.  My sisters like her better than me, so that's cool. 

Anyways, I was "Pinning" the other day (I love Pinterest, and you should too) and came across a picture of a beautiful model (obviously) in a pair of fierce dark-washed, wide-leg denim jeans, a brown belt, and an adorable light denim shirt.  It inspired me to then go out and purchase my own denim shirt.  This was my moment to be a trendy, gorgeous model.  Forget the fact that I am 5-feet tall.  Forget the fact that I am not a trend-setter.  I was going to do it.  I tracked my shipment from start to finish, and I couldn't wait for the shirt to arrive.  When it did, I quickly ripped open the package, and unfolded the shirt.  It was a little bigger than I had anticipated, but it didn't matter; I was going to rock the denim shirt like the beautiful girl in the picture.  Or like how Whitney would rock a trendy outfit at the office.  This was my chance!  Or so I thought.

The minute I put the denim shirt on, the ridicule commenced.  Mike had a field day with my denim shirt and denim pants.  He referred to my outfit as the female version of the "Canadian Tuxedo."  He made jokes about me wearing my art smock.  He talked about me like I wasn't even in the room (either to himself, or to the dog).  I thought it looked super cute and I didn't care what he said!  I woke up the next morning to a text message from Mike with a picture of a man in a full-on Jean Jacket / Jeans combo, with the subtitle "Your soul mate."  He is so sweet isn't he?  And yes, he did pause the show he was watching, take a picture of the TV, and proceed to forward it to me.  It was the important to him to make fun of me! 

I have no shame.  I love the denim shirt.  I am not so sure this particular shirt looks cute tucked into jeans given it's lack of structure and overall size, but with a pair of leggings, I thought it was kind of cute.  I rocked the Denim shirt and leggings to the grocery store and family dinner on Sunday.  Sure, I was the butt of a few jokes, but all in all, I think it went well.  It may not have been everyone's favorite outfit, but I didn't care.  I was being cool.  I was being hip.  I was being me.  So the next time someone gives you crap for something you really enjoy, ignore them!  Rock your denim equivalent and hold your head high.  Be a trend-setter.  Be like Whitney.  But most important, be you!

Day 5 - Sunday Funday

As much as I hate when Sunday comes, and I know that I have to go to work tomorrow, I love our Sunday routines.  Being a creature of habit, routines definitely keep me sane.  Sundays are usually for laundry.  I don't mind throwing a couple of loads of laundry in the machines.  I don't even mind folding the clothes.  I actually hate putting the clothes away!  I feel like my closet could truly explode at any minute so that thought of having to find room for the clean clothes drives me nuts!

Sundays are for de-cluttering.  For some reason, during the week, the house accumulates random clutter.  Unopened mail sits on the counter with the name "Michael Andre" on it for a few days.  Travel coffee mugs sit on the half wall, when the sink is another 15 steps away.  Magazines are sprawled on the coffee table.  Finnley's toys are all over the floor.  Coats are hanging on the backs of the kitchen chairs instead of in the coat closet at the back door.  I am okay with them sitting there Monday through Saturday, but on Sunday, my de-clutter day, everything must have a home.  Everything must be put away.  We have to give the illusion that we live in peace and cleanliness.

Sundays are also for grocery shopping.  Mike and I have mastered the grocery store.  We used to walk around the store together - not by his choice, totally by mine.  I used to think grocery shopping together was "so cute" because we were young and in love and married and that's what young, married couples did.  FALSE.  We have figured out that by dividing and conquering, we can kick the grocery store's ass. I have learned (from my crazy parents) to organize the grocery list by section and by aisle, so I can whip down the list crossing things off as I walk.  I HAVE to shop with a grocery list.  I would forget too much if I didn't.  I like to establish our weekly menu on Sunday so I know what I am making, what I should buy, etc.  It just makes my life so much easier during the week when I am trying to manage, work, our dog, the gym, Mike's hockey schedule, etc.  If you don't create a grocery list now, I would highly recommend it.

Sundays should be spent conducting some major DVR catch-up.  There isn't much time during the week to watch our favorite shows (Modern Family, Happy Endings, and the like), so we like to watch them together on Sundays.  I don't know what I would do without DVR given our crazy schedules.  I suppose we could simply "not watch TV," but I feel committed to these shows now.  We have had some bad luck with shows - either they become too far-fetched (Desperate Housewives), too weird (Glee), or they get cancelled (What About Brian?).  If Modern Family and Happy Endings are still on the air, AND they are still entertaining, then we will continue to watch.

So as much as I hate Sundays (especially when that clock strikes noon; for some reason I feel like noon marks the downward spiral of the day), I love it just the same.  Time to get organize, my idea of a Sunday Funday.  WOOOOO!!

Day 4 - Things worth caring about in your 20s

I received this article from a friend from work, and I now have it hanging at my desk.  Everything that they talk about really resonanted with me, and I wanted to share it with all of you.  Take a moment to read through this and reflect.  It's amazing how true and how real this article is.

"When you’re 25-ish, you’re old enough to know what kind of music you love, regardless of what your last boyfriend or roommate always used to play. You know how to walk in heels, how to tie a necktie, how to give a good toast at a wedding and how to make something for dinner. You don’t have to think much about skin care, home ownership or your retirement plan. Your life can look a lot of different ways when you’re 25: single, dating, engaged, married. You are working in dream jobs, pay-the-bills jobs and downright horrible jobs. You are young enough to believe that anything is possible, and you are old enough to make that belief a reality.

Job

Now is the time to figure out what kind of work you love to do. What are you good at? What makes you feel alive? What do you dream about? You can go back to school now, switch directions entirely. You can work for almost nothing, or live in another country, or volunteer long hours for something that moves you. There will be a time when finances and schedules make this a little trickier, so do it now. Try it, apply for it, get up and do it.

When I was 25, I was in my third job in as many years—all in the same area at a church, but the responsibilities were different each time. I was frustrated at the end of the third year because I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do next. I didn’t feel like I’d found my place yet. I met with my boss, who was in his 50s. I told him how anxious I was about finding the one perfect job for me, and quick. He asked me how old I was, and when I told him I was 25, he told me that I couldn’t complain to him about finding the right job until I was 32. In his opinion, it takes about 10 years after college to find the right fit, and anyone who finds it earlier than that is just plain lucky. So use every bit of your 10 years: try things, take classes, start over.

Relationships

Now is also the time to get serious about relationships. And “serious” might mean walking away from the ones that don’t give you everything you need. Some of the most life-shaping decisions you make in this season will be about walking away from good-enough, in search of can’t-live-without. One of the only truly devastating mistakes you can make in this season is staying with the wrong person even though you know he or she is the wrong person. It’s not fair to that person, and it’s not fair to you.

Counseling

Twenty-five is also a great time to start counseling, if you haven’t already, and it might be a good round two of counseling if it’s been a while. You might have just enough space from your parents to start digging around your childhood a little bit. Unravel the knots that keep you from living a healthy whole life, and do it now, before any more time passes.

Church

Twenty-five is the perfect time to get involved in a church you love, no matter how different it is from the one you were a part of growing up. Be patient and prayerful, and decide that you’re going to be a person who grows, who seeks your own faith, who lives with intention. Set your alarm on Sunday mornings, no matter how late you were out on Saturday night. It will be dreadful at first, and then after a few weeks, you’ll find that you like it, that the pattern of it fills up something inside you.

Don't get stuck

This is the thing: when you start to hit 28 or 30, everything starts to divide, and you can see very clearly two kinds of people: on one side, people who have used their 20s to learn and grow, to find God and themselves and their deep dreams, people who know what works and what doesn’t, who have pushed through to become real live adults. And then there’s the other kind, who are hanging onto college, or high school even, with all their might. They’ve stayed in jobs they hate, because they’re too scared to get another one. They’ve stayed with men or women who are good but not great, because they don’t want to be lonely. They mean to find a church, they mean to develop honest, intimate friendships, they mean to stop drinking like life is one big frat party. But they don’t do those things, so they live in kind of an extended adolescence, no closer to adulthood than they were when they graduated college.

Don’t be like that. Don’t get stuck. Move, travel, take a class, take a risk. Walk away, try something new. There is a season for wildness and a season for settledness, and this is neither. This season is about becoming. Don’t lose yourself at happy hour, but don’t lose yourself on the corporate ladder either. Stop every once in a while and go out to coffee or climb in bed with your journal. Ask yourself some good questions like: “Am I proud of the life I’m living? What have I tried this month? What have I learned about God this year? What parts of my childhood faith am I leaving behind, and what parts am I choosing to keep with me for this leg of the journey? Do the people I’m spending time with give me life, or make me feel small? Is there any brokenness in my life that’s keeping me from moving forward?”

Now is your time. Become, believe, try. Walk closely with people you love, and with other people who believe that God is very good and life is a grand adventure. Don’t spend time with people who make you feel like less than you are. Don’t get stuck in the past, and don’t try to fast-forward yourself into a future you haven’t yet earned. Give today all the love and intensity and courage you can, and keep traveling honestly along life’s path."

Taken from Bittersweet by Shauna Niequist Copyright © 2010.

Day 3 - Why I blog.

Welcome to another edition of  "life according to me" written by me, for you (and for me too).  People have asked me where my desire and drive to write comes from, so I thought I would give you a little more insight about me.  I have always enjoyed writing, for as long as I can remember.  I used to get so excited in elementary school when we would take our stories, carefully written on wide-ruled looseleaf, and transfer them to a hard cover book.  I would slowly open that snow-white hard cover book, listening to the bindings crack.  It was a blank canvas that we could write and draw pictures and explore and imagine.  It was the best thing ever!  Ms. Beausolei was my first grade teacher, and the first one to really encourage me to write, besides my parents of course, and I have been writing ever since.

Now, 20 years later (oh man, that makes my heart skip a beat), I still love writing.  Although it has taken on a new form, and a new vision, I am writing nonetheless.  It was nice for me to get through school, and get through all of those "required" papers so that I could get to here - a place where I could write about whatever I wanted to, whenever I wanted to.  There are no rules (per se).  Granted I don't want to run around hurting people's feelings, but I certainly don't want to hold back.  I like writing about things that make me laugh.  I want to make you laugh.  Laughing is probably my all-time favorite thing to do.  I love dancing, and singing, and listening to music, but laughter is the way to my soul.  Hence, why I married one of the funniest people I know (and handsome if I do say so myself). 

Some people may think about me, and assume that I haven't really lived a lot up to now given that I was a suburban homeowner at 24, married at 25, a puppy-mommy, a career-woman.  Settled.  But I have experienced life.  My life.  And although it may be different from your's, I am sure there are still some parallels that we can draw, and some stupid stuff we can laugh at together.  Some may say that I suck at relationship advice.  To them I say, you may think I suck at relationship advice, but I must be doing something right to stay with the same man for 10 years.  Yes, count them, 10 years!!  I may not truly know what it feels like to have a full-on break up, but I have had heartache, long-distance relationships, work/life/love balance issues, the list goes on and on.  So although my relationship may not be "normal," it comes from a place of honesty, and I always try my damndest to give whatever advice I can, and again, incorporate laughter.

I know how to have adult discussions.  I know how to have an adult argument.  I know how to handle real-life stressors (albeit, I don't handle them well, but I certainly know how to cope with them).  All of these things require a realistic outlook, a desire for a mutual outcome, and a good sense of humor. 

I am a novice blogger who uses life experiences for inspiration. I enjoy sharing thoughts and opinions about big events and small ones. I am a wife, a puppy-mommy, a sister, a daughter, a friend, a loyal employee, and an opinionated biotch. I am a "why are there 4 oz. in an 8 oz. glass?" kind of girl. I am a realist, with pessimistic tendencies. I overanalyze. I question everything.  I can't make a decision to save my life. I love love. I love being loved. I love loving people. I LOVE LAUGHING!  I am a caretaker. I am a people-pleaser. I enjoy alone time. I enjoy small groups (despite popular belief, this outgoing personality much prefers a small intimate gathering over a large group any day).  I am not a fan of fake-socializing, but I am damn good at it. Life is too short to spend time with people you do not like, trust me, been there, done that. I appreciate good manners. I appreciate good spellcheck (there/they're/their or to/too/two). And I appreciate you reading!  Let's take this journey together and enjoy the ride.

Day 2 - Perfection in the iMpeRfeCTiOn

"Life's too short to be anything but happy!"  Amen.  So why, then, do so many people focus on the negative?  Including me.  I am not proud of it.  I am not bragging about it.  I am just stating the facts.  I mean, being a Negative Nancy isn't all that easy.  Being crabby about things isn't fun.  Smiling is much more attractive than frowning, or scowling, or any of the sort.  So why do I have this terrible adherence to negative energy?

The good news: I have an awareness of my negativity, and I do (despite popular belief), have a desire to want to change.

The bad news: It's incredibly difficult and somewhat of an insurmountable challenge for me to make this change (well, looky there.  Right on time.  Cue: negative attitude).

As a result of this adherence to the negative, I like to surround myself with people that remind me to stay positive.  Sure, I have those amazing friends that I love because we agree on so many things - including complaining.  But those same people, have an amazing (and admirable) way of seeing the good in things, and opening my eyes to the Perfection in the iMpeRfeCTiOn.  Just because things don't always go the way that I planned, it doesn't mean it is wrong, or bad, or that the world is ending - even though my reaction to an unplanned result might seem otherwise.  My friends remind me that life goes on.



If only this were red wine...

Despite my negative attitude, I do try and learn from my mistakes.  I try to learn from failures.  I learn from successes too.  Part of life is recognizing that nothing is perfect - no matter how far in advance we plan them, and by we, I mean me, because I am definitely a planner.  There are always going to be times when things take on a life of their own, and we must learn to cope when with this happens.  But recognizing my my actions, and changing my actions are two different things.  It's difficult to look at the glass half full, especially when my initial thought is never full or empty, but more "why are there 4 oz. in this 8 oz. wine glass?" (Oh yes, my metaphoric glass is obviously for wine)!!   It is hard for me to take things for face value.  I am an overanalyzer by nature.  I must explore every avenue before making a final decision.  And in this exploration I consider will be impacted by my decision? How will they feel?  Who needs to be brought into the loop?  Etc.  No decision, big or small, is made without a full analysis. 
So maybe, my friends (and husband), because I take so much into consideration when making a decision, if the decision is wrong, or fails, I internalize it?  I consider it to be a personal failure as opposed to a failure due to circumstance or external factors.  I blame myself for things that are out of my control.  I am my own scapegoat.  Talk about therapy!  Man, I came to quite the conclusion during this little rant. 

Alright then, my new goal, instead of changing, is simply to try to accept the fact that sometimes there doesn't need to be a scapegoat.  There doesn't always need to be someone to blame.  I need to learn to let things that are out my control happen, and focus only on things that I can truly change.  This may not have any impact on my overall attitude (haha, see?  Back to my normal self), but I will certainly keep it in mind the next time someone pisses me off for being stupid.  Good plan.

Day 1 - It's a dog's world

It was a good night in the Andre House!!  All of you pervs get your minds out of the gutter.  It was a good night because the three monkeys (Me, Mike, and Finn...aka: George, as in Curious George) slept through the whole night without wanting to kill each other.  WOOOOO!!!  This is a rarity in our house.  Usually, Finn is up walking around on the bed finding the tiniest spot to squish his 80-lb body up against - and usually that is my feet or Mike's face.  If it's not Finn, then I am tossing and turning with a bunch on my mind, having strange dreams or hearing weird animal noises outside.  Or Mike has conveniently passed out with his arms above his head for the gagillionth (that's a scientific number, trust me) time and he wakes up with no feeling from the neck down, and he freaks.  Ah yes, the usual night time joys of sleeping in our room.

People told us when we first got Finnley, "don't let the dog sleep in your bed" and for the first few months we were fine.  Granted, Finn slept in a crate for the first few months, but we were still holding strong to the "no puppies in the bed" rule.  But then Finn got sick, and he needed attention throughout the night, and he grew, and became more snuggly (I could list a million reasons why we broke the rules), so we decided to invite him into the boudoir.  Epic fail on our parts.  You see, at the time, we were still newlyweds (yes, I say "were" because by now, 16 months into this thing, I no longer consider ourselves novices).  We were supposed to engage in pillow talk and discuss our life's dreams and goals, and all of the other things newlyweds do in the first year of marriage - again with all of you pervs.  But not us.  We had Finn in our bed!  So we would laugh at the silly positions that Finn would fall asleep in.  I would yell at Mike to move Finn for me because he was too heavy for me to budge.  Mike would yell at me because Finn was taking up too much of his side.  Ah, marital bliss.  This is what a happily ever after is all about, right?

Then there is the morning routine.  Monday through Friday Mike's alarm goes off at 4:30AM.  Poor Finn waits so patiently (most of the time) for that alarm to go off.  He sits there and waits, and once the first beep of the alarm is made, Finn thinks to himself "alright, let's do this.  It's go time!"  He is well-trained, and knows that Mike is his man.  Poor Mike, bless his heart, is the one that is stuck taking Finn out before the sun each and every day.  So Finn will make a bee-line to Mike's pillow and begin the "domestic battery."  He will smack your face with his paw.  He will nuzzle his nose in your neck.  He will step all over you.  He is bound and determined to get your ass out of bed, and food in his bowl as quickly as possible.  And he doesn't care if it is a weekday or a weekend.  He knows when it is 4:30 (even without the alarm), so this is ongoing adventure, even on the weekends.  At this point, I would like to thank all of the wonderful people in our lives who have either volunteered, or been volunteered by Mike and me, to help watch Finn overnight.  WE LOVE YOU!  :)  And, for the record, yes, it is too late to back out now.  You are already on the calendar (Grammy & Grampy Andre, Alli Fouts & Andy Candy, etc.). 

But as crabby as I sound about all of this, I wouldn't trade it for the world.  For every sleep-deprived day I have, I have more moments of pure joy with him.  Finn brings such happiness to our lives, and to the lives of our families.  He wakes up each and every day just thrilled to be alive!  He literally opens his eyes, and he is just so happy to have made it to another day.  If we could all live like that, imagine how fulfilled we'd be.  So here's to a good day!  Give your dog an extra squeeze, and embrace the morning like your puppy does. 

"There's just something about dogs that makes you feel good. You come home, they're thrilled to see you. They're good for the ego." (Janet Schnellman)

40 Days of Blogging: Intro

Today is MARDI GRAS (Fat Tuesday)!!!  I am not sure why I am appearing excited about it because truthfully, we have no plans to celebrate this year.  I don't think I have ever celebrated Mardi Gras.  I would love to, one day, go to New Orleans and celebrate with the locals and the tourists.  Attend the parades.  Watch all of the debauchery unfold.  Judge people.  Make fun of people.  You know the drill.  It's definitely one of those things that I have put on my bucket list.  Some day.

The one thing I do to celebrate Fat Tuesday is eat.  A lot.  It's the perfect excuse to binge, and I am always looking for a reason to justify eating (and drinking) more than I should.  And I mean the word "Fat" is in the title.  How perfect is that?  I think we should have a "Fat" week.  Or a "Fat" month.  And speaking of drinking too much ... go figure ... last week I had been talking to a co-worker.  We were trying to figure out how much we could drink without feeling hungover the day before.  I was telling him that I am usually good with 2-3 glasses of wine, which is true if I am eating a good, hearty, Italian dinner.  This past weekend, I had a dainty little wedge salad (like a quarter of a head of lettuce).  I indulged in three glasses of free wine (thanks Dad) and felt like crap the next morning.  Looks like my tolerance is still low.  I hate getting older.

Anyways, so given that tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and the start of Lent, I have decided to add something to my life (in addition to giving something up).  I am going to add blogging.  Some of you might think this is silly considering I already do blog, but it's a hard hobby to upkeep.  If I ever want to be like Carrie Bradshaw, then I must step up my game.  My goal is blog everyday for the next 40 days.  Now - this is quite the challenge seeing as though I prefer to write with a purpose.  Write for a reason.  I love writing, but I don't enjoy writing with writer's block or with no real point.  So, with the 40-day challenge - and with it being Lent and all - I may have to put a new spin on this daily blog.  Instead of being mean or judgmental all the time (which we all love), I will incorporate other things too.  Funny anecdotes.  Stupid things.  Quotes.  But I will definitely do my best not to bore you!!  Let's face it - I only write this blog for entertainment purposes - as well as a stress relief for me.

So starting tomorrow (well, today) my goal is blog once a day - which in turn is like making time for myself.  I do so much for others - it's difficult to be the office clown, the perfect wife, the best puppy-mommy I can be.  So once a day, I will take a moment to blog and focus on me and my thoughts.  Wish me luck!  Cheers to Fat Tuesday.

The direct correlation between number of shoes and decision-making

My name is Jennifer Andre, and I am a shoe-a-holic.  Maybe if it I say it enough I will believe it, and then seek treatment.  But truthfully, I don’t want help!  I just want more money, so I can feed the habit.  I know I am not alone in this horrible addiction.  I know this because I have been in many of your closets and I have seen the aftermath of an online shopping binge.  But although some women’s obsession with shoes may flirt with the line of unhealthy, we deserve sympathy from our men when we are getting ready.  I don’t think men understand how difficult it is to pick the perfect pair of shoes.  There is a direct correlation between number of shoes and decision-making abilities.  Women with an infinite number of shoes are actually incredible decision-makers.  You’ll see what I mean.  Keep reading…

I was taking inventory of my shoe situation over the weekend, and I felt the need to justify some of what I was seeing.  For instance, I have over 10 pairs of black pumps – two pairs are identical…literally the same pair – and the rest are unique in their own right.  Now men, not to underestimate you, but chances are most of you wouldn’t know the difference between them.  And that’s okay.  Lucky for you, there aren’t a whole of acceptable options out there for you anyways; there are some seriously ugly men’s shoes out there, and god bless the men that don’t have a) fashion sense or b) a woman to make those decisions for them. 

Men pretty much need 5 pairs of shoes to get them through life (you should know by now, that I am just making generalizations and I know not every man can get away with 5 pairs of shoes.  I am trying to make a fairly comical point here, so stay with me): casual brown shoes, dressy brown shoes, casual black shoes, dressy black shoes, and gym shoes.  Now I know that this is not at all fact-based, and it is certainly not based on my husband’s closet.  He has the addiction as bad as I do when it comes to shoes, but his obsession goes through ebbs and flows.  Not mine.  Mine is a constant devil on my shoulder that I just don’t want to quiet.

Women, on the other hand, need multiple pairs of “the same shoe.”  For instance black pumps; allow me to explain.  Women have pants of all different lengths; it just happens, especially if you are flirting with the five-foot line like I am.  I don’t want to get every pair of pants I own tailored, so I just buy a pair of shoes that I can wear so the pants don’t touch the ground.  So, for pant-length, heels must have varying heights; we need low, medium, high, and SUPER high heels, all of which are worn with different pants, and for different occasions.

But heel height is not the only factor.  On top that, we must then work through the shape of the toe!  Does the pant look better with a round-toe?  Or maybe a pointy-toe?  Does the pant need a high heel and a platform, or just a high heel?  Is it cold out?  Should you consider wearing boots?  Are the boots pointy or round?  Are they knee-high boots or booties?  Those are the types of questions that go through my head each and every time I leave the house.  And that is just referring to the black shoes.  We have to go through the same process when you change your shirt, and now a brown shoe would look better.  The questions start flying again – and brown is tough because there are so many different shades of brown.  We aren’t even going to tackle brown in today’s blog.

And then there is the consideration of where you are going, especially on the weekends.  If you are going “out,” then you have to decide if the evening is calling for form or function?  If you are going to a bar, where you will most likely be sitting down, then you can wear either shoe.  But if the bar is grungy, then you definitely will wear the old pair of comfy black pumps - function.  If the bar is nice, and you will be sitting on a trendy stool, then rocking the uncomfy, but adorable stiletto, is your best option - form.  If you are going out dancing, then your initial thought might be function, but you feel sexier in a pair of fierce heels, so form wins. 

All of these things race through a woman’s mind as she is getting ready for the day/night.  She must work through those internal challenges to find the perfect shoe for the event – and chances are she nails it 99% of the time.  We aren’t perfect, and sometimes we choose the wrong shoe, in which case a night could be ruined by constant complaining and tears.  But we are allowed a misstep (pun intended) every once in a while.  So men, instead of getting angry with your women when they come home with a box (or seven) of shoes, think of it as an incredible decision-making feat your lady is about to overcome, and applaud her when she comes down the stairs in what she thinks is the perfect pump – even if we are 15 minutes late!!  Get over it.  At least we look good.