I moved back in with my parents in August of 2012 and since doing so, there have been moments of pure insanity and moments that stopped me in my tracks, squeezed my heart, clogged my throat and made me wonder…just where exactly would I be if I hadn’t moved home? Literally and figuratively. This time has been a mix of irritating and hysterical and wonderful and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. thanks mom and daddy for letting me be that annoying adult child that leached off of their parents for a year and a half.
My relationship with my baby sister has been one of those hysterical/wonderful aspects of the move. My brother and I are five years apart so my memories of him as a baby are more toddler age memories, when I walked into his room and he was jumping on his bed in 4 layers of socks and 3 sweatshirts and a stack of hats balanced precariously on his humongous head. He’s 19 now, lives in the dorms and has become terrifyingly responsible for an entire floor of guys so our relationship has become more of the texting variety during this crazy busy time of his life.
Garrison and I will always have a special bond, being the two middles of the family and sharing a propensity to live in utter squalor, but Karianne and I are a different story. I’m nine years older than her. I have memories of changing her diapers and rocking her to sleep, singing God Bless America because I couldn’t think of anything else to sing. I’ve always had this inclination to mother her, to protect her, and I think she’s always felt that she could come to me, tell me things, and that I would listen.
But this past year or so has changed that relationship. She’s my friend, one of my best friends, just like our older sister Courtney is our friend. The three of us group text all day long and I know for a fact that there doesn’t exist another person in this world who can make me laugh as hard as those two do when they get going with emojee texts.
Karianne and I are getting close to the same size in tops and dresses and consequently, my closet has begun to service two girls on an almost daily basis. Courtney used to hate when I borrowed (alright, stole) her clothes but I have to admit, it tickles me to no end when Karianne borrows my clothes. She has frequently put together a completely new outfit that I would have never thought of. I love when she comes home in an outfit of mine and tells me how many of her friends said she looked cute. Is it pathetic that I find joy in the approval of a bunch of 16 year old girls? Think what you want, but these girls are MUCH more stylish than I was at 16 so I will take their approval any day.
Your life will never turn out exactly how you thought it would. But those twists and turns will reveal moments and opportunities that will become the sweetest memories of your life. I wouldn’t trade the months that I’ve had with Karianne for anything. I might have lost my house but I found a best friend. And that is far more precious to me.
I wore this to a Christmas party the other night and my mom told me I looked like the chick from Elf. Since that chick is Zooey Deschanel and she is adorable, I will take any and all ZD lookalike comments forever and ever, amen.
I also finally figured out how to do crown braids, inspired from this photo, and it’s now become my go to hair style since deciding to grow out my fringe. I knew I’d regret chopping those little hairs after about, oh, a month, but ah well ce la vie. They are now at that strange, i-dont-know-where-to-live stage and consequently I’ve been wearing lots of hats. Or crown braids.
This week has been very strange weather for December; 60′s and nary a chilly wind in sight! I have to say, I am far from disgruntled by the current state of affairs. A blessed break from the Snow Apocalypse is fine by me. Especially since it’s like getting me ready for our trip coming up. Christmas in California! I’m so excited to see my sister and brother in law and spend some time in their sweet little town. The 21 hour drive to get there with 5 people and a dog in one car? Tylenol PM you are calling my name.
Target top, tights, and boots (old)// Forever 21 necklace// ASOS dress
Courtney and I share our opinions and outfits on our monthly(ish) series Sisterly! Check out our past Sisterly posts here.
Growing up with a big sister was, looking back, one of the very best things I could have ever asked for. I’m sure my parents would say it was entertaining on the good days and harrowing on the bad but they will always be able to say that we gave them some pretty great stories to tell our kids when we get older. Let’s just say that if our parents could determine what sort of mischief our future kids will put us through, Court and I have a whole lot of headaches comin’ our way.
Being two girly girls, two years apart, you can guess what our one major fight was: clothes.Court and I fought over closets and all things related to them at least once a week from ages 13 to 20. AT LEAST.
I can remember one major fight when Courtney pushed me into the bed post and I had a humongous bruise on my leg for a week after. I also happened to give her a bloody nose. It probably didn’t help matters that we shared a closet and a bedroom at that point.
There was also the time that I snuck a shirt out of Courtney’s side of the closet, wore it to school, got home before she did and put it EXACTLY back where I had found it. Yet somehow Courtney knew that I had borrowed it. I’ve always said it was because she was too organized and knew I had moved her hanger.
Now that we’re (somewhat) adults and live in different states, our one major fight growing up has become one of the things we bond over the most. There is no one I would trust more to tell me her opinion on an outfit and we frequently text each other pictures of clothes were thinking about buying to ask, “do you think this is cute? will I look like a heffalump in it?” (that is a real text guys. quoted.)
I look back now on all of our RIDICULOUS fights over clothes or who had the most closet space and I simply feel grateful that I HAD a sister to fight with. A sister that shares my interests and knows my heart better than almost anyone in this world. A sister that, even 12,000 (give or take) miles away, can call me and know if something is wrong just by hearing my voice.
Now that our little sister is 16, she’s joined in on the outfit texts and the borrowing from closets and yes even the outfit posts (Karianne takes almost all of my outfit pictures! She took these while we were in North Carolina!)
Sisters are such precious relationships and I’m blessed to have two of them to fight with, laugh with, share clothes with, and stick our noses into our little brother’s business with. He’s far too cute for his own good, he NEEDS three sisters to take care of him! ;)
Target chambray top and necklace// ASOS jumper// Target Flats// Swoon Boutique knuckle rings// Steve Madden bag via TJ Maxx// Warby Parker glasses
Don’t forget to check out Courtney’s Sisterly post here!
I’m so excited to share this new project with you guys! This is something my sister Courtney and I have been discussing for a long time and I am thrilled to show you guys the first Sisterly post!
Sisterly is a collaboration between the sisters of A Rambling Fancy and Shabby Loves Chic.
Courtney and I are very similar and very different all at the same time. The perfect example of this: we have frequently called each other to talk about some new clothing item we have bought. More often than not, the other one will have bought that same item without knowing it! So while we have a lot of the same clothes in our closets (her’s in CA, mine in OK) we rarely ever style our clothing the same way!
We thought it would be fun to come together and show you different ways to style your clothes, decorate your home, and host your party all while using the same products! Fun right?
So for this first project, Court and I decided to try out one of our favorite patterns: leopard! We even made a Pinterest board to show off some of our favorite spotted pieces
I decided to use leopard print as a fun accent rather than a main focus piece. I LOVE leopard! It’s a cool print that can mix well with almost any other pattern: stripes, dots, and my new favorite mix: plaid!
Well what do ya know, I’m actually 2 for 2 on this whole Random Facts series! Someone give me a gold star. Or a Starbucks, which is the equivalent of a gold star in my book.
So on to the story. Let me just pause for a second and explain to you just how deep my love is for you, because I am currently on the cusp (don’t you love that word?) of telling you my most embarrassing, god awfully mortifying story of my life. It involves death (or something near it). It involves a hot paramedic. And it involves me crashing like Goliath and tasting the mall floor, something which no poor soul should ever have to endure. Are you ready? Because I’m not sure I am. Alright let’s do this.
It was my sophomore year in College and the end of my teenage adolescence (by this I mean I was 19.) I was working in the mall as a sales clerk at the most darling fashion boutique, Lucca (it’s also the store that my sister Courtney met her husband through, you should hear the story it’s quite precious) and I took my job pretty seriously. Not everyone can weild the tagging gun with such precision guys. It’s a hard job.
As we neared the end of a horrifically cold winter, I began getting the snuffles. A cough here, a sneeze there. Nothing too serious, I kept telling myself. Until suddenly I ended up not being able to survive the day without Dayquill, Tylenol, a box of Kleenex and a sweater or four. I went on like this for a few days, don’t even ask me why, I had somehow developed a really bad case of the Denials and refused to think I was actually sick.
I went to class one morning feeling utterly disgusting. I can remember sitting in class thinking that my head was going to explode. I considered calling in to work sick, but NO I was dedicated and I wasn’t really sick, so I was going in to work! I ran home after class to eat a bowl of chicken noodle with a side of medication and hauled my little tushy in to Lucca.
At some point in the afternoon I realized just how sick I was. I was shivering, my eyes wouldn’t focus, and I was having a hard time keeping my head from toppling off my neck. As I fought back tears I thought to myself, “just a few more hours and then someone will come in for their shift and you can go home. Just hold on for a few more hours.”
At that point I felt a cold sweat break out over my body and I couldn’t stand up any longer. I laid my head down on the cash register, thinking that I would rest for just a second, when I heard a hrrumph from the vicinity of the store floor. I raised my head about half an inch and blearily eyed the mom pants standing huffily in front of me. “I’m sure you’re super busy or SOMEthing but do you THINK you could get up and get me a dressing room, PUHlease?”
I hauled myself together, ever the customer service slave, and attempted to say “of course I can, I’m so sorry about that” but really all that came out was, “whimper whimper, I’m so sorry”.
I began walking blindly from the cash register to the dressing rooms with Huffy McMom Pants clacking away behind me when suddenly I just couldn’t do it. Little did I know that I was running a 100+ temp at this point; all I knew was that I had suddenly lost all control of my body parts and my mind was floating somewhere over the industrial lights. “Are you ALRIGHT?” screeched Huffers. I mumbled something along the lines of “I’m so sorry” and slowly began my Goliath impression, falling face first with a smack right onto the hard wood floors. I remember thinking, “where did the floor come from?” as Mommy Dearest screamed ” OH MY GOD SHE’S DEAD!” and ran out of the store.
My mind conveniently decided to return to it’s rightful place at this point, leaving me fully aware of the fact that I had just fainted in the MALL of all places and a wretched woman was screaming for a paramedic. I shakily pulled myself up onto my elbows and when I did, I noticed something lying on the floor by my hand. I picked it up and stared at it for a good 10 years before it finally clicked in my head that I wasn’t holding a piece of Chicklet gum; I was holding a rather large chunk of my front tooth. Yes, I now resembled Nanny Mcfee, and I was at the mall. My life was offically over.
I began trying to cry; I say trying because what came out of me was not sniffles and tears. No it was more like donkey dry heaves. There was no moisture involved, all of that was clogged behind the headache from hell. I just laid on the floor, making this horrible sobbing noise and cradling my poor broken tooth in my hands like it was a baby bird.
I felt a hand on my back; I looked up and realized that God hated me. Standing in front of me was the most beautiful Bay Watch of a paramedic I had ever seen in my life. Picture Brad Pitt carrying a heart monitor. I suddenly wished I could have knocked myself out again.
Paramedic Pitt began checking my pulse, asking me my name and where I lived and all the other questions you have to ask when you find a Goliath reenactment gone terribly wrong. But then things got even worse.
“Are you pregnant?” I just stared at him. My hazy sick/love/mortified induced brain was having a hard time keeping up. “Are you with CHILD?” Dude I know what prego means. “No I’m not”. “Could you be with child?” “um…no?” what does this have to do with anything Brad? If you want to know if I’m single just ask, don’t bring in the baby drama.
“I need you to give me honest answers ma’am” Paramedic Pitt said quite snippily. “If you have been participating in intercourse, you could be pregnant which could have caused you to faint.” You know when all of that blood left my head earlier? It all came rushing back at that point. Blush City. “Oh oh oh NO no no no no no, I’m not pregnant, I couldn’t be pregnant, I’m not…ya no, that, no I’m not…doing THAT.”
“Are you sure ma’am? Because if you’re lying you are only hurting yourself”. Suddenly Paramedic Pitt was getting on my ever lovin’ nerves. “No, I’m really NOT pregnant, I swear”. “Well do you eat?” Do I eat?! “Of course I eat, I love to eat?” “What have you ate today?” I just passed out and now you want me to recite my lunch choices? I’m weak. Literally and figuratively. “Um I had cereal this morning and then I had soup for lunch.”
“young lady that is not enough food, if you are trying to starve yourself you are going to end up dying, anorexia is a serious illness and you should not be treating yourself like this, you need to get help-”
“woah dude, I’m not ANOREXIC, I freaking love eating, food is great, I would have ate more except I think I’m sick, I’ve been sick for a few days!” lay off Paramedic Prick.
I got the beady eye for a few seconds before P.P laid his hand on my forehead and officially announced me sick. DER idiot.
At this point my sweet friend Taylor, who worked at Lucca with me, just happened to walk by on her way to return something to Sephora. She wasn’t scheduled to work but she volunteered to take my place so I could go home. We called my mom, since my legs still resembled The Little Mermaids (post sea legs). My mom picked me up and got me into the doctors office where we found out that I was running a dangerously high temperature with a severe case of Strep. I was also Anemic which, combined with the high temp, had caused me to pass out.
What was really lovely about this whole situation was that since I was running a fever, the dentist refused to see me until about 4 days later when I had been declared non toxic. So I walked about for 4 days with half a tooth, then two weeks after that with a temp tooth that looked yellow and was slightly longer than the rest of my teeth before they could get me a veneer in place. Needless to say, there was no smiling done in the month of January.
Probably one of the weirdest experiences of my life was being hyped up on cough medicine with my face numb from the dentist’s numbing gel. They drilled what was left of my natural tooth down into a stub to fit the temp over but before putting it in place the dim witted assistant asked if I wanted to see what it looked like. Somehow my hand extended itself and I found myself holding a mirror as it slowly made it’s way up to my face. “no, no no no no no,” my mind yelled at me but it was too late. I looked in the mirror and saw this horrible, puffy faced, drooling HICK with her front tooth missing and a tiny pencil eraser stub in it’s place. I think I made some sort of Frankenstein moan because the assistant quickly snatched the mirror from me and whipped the temp tooth into place before the histrionics could start.
Almost 5 years later I have a nicely proportioned and naturally colored veneer that you would never know was fake unless I decided to tell you. Or unless my sister called me Nanny McFee in front of you, as she so loves to do, and then I have to tell the whole story.
Target sunnies// Seams to be snood// Max & Olivia’s cross cutout sweater// Target leggings// Target flats// 7th & West bangles
I wasn’t too sure of this sweater when I got it in the mail. I mean, hi hello, there’s a huge cross on my back. Does that seem a bit strange to anyone else?
But then I realized how utterly comfy and cozy the sweater was, and how it was just the right length to wear with leggings. I also decided the cross kind of made the sweater a bit quirky so I just went with it. And ended up wearing it like, 3 days in a row. I know. Judge me all you want.
I’m having a hard time concentrating on writing out this post because my sister is on her way! YAY! My sister and brother in law will be with us for a week and a half and I am SUPER excited. I miss my sister more than anyone could have told me I would have. If someone could go back and tell my 15 year old self that my big sister would some day end up being my best friend, I probably would have laughed right in their face. But apparently miracles do happen. Girls can get along. Sisters can stop fighting long enough to realize that they’re best friend has been sleeping in the room (or bed) next to them all their life.
And now she’s finally here! EEEK!
Warby Parker glasses//Old Navy cardi// Asos dress// unknown belt// Charlotte Russe heels//makeup: black liquid liner on top, Revlon cherry snow lip// hair: old fashioned twist.
I felt very school teacher-esque in this outfit. My teacher friends would all say there would be no way in Hades I could wear a split to thigh dress and platform heels to school, but hey what do they know. I felt like a teacher, so Ms Hamilton I shall be.
Happy Hump day folks! Ok side story, because that’s how my brain works:
I used to call Wednesday “Hump Day” all the time (you know, because if the work week was a hill, Wednesday would be the top of the hump?). But then my sister and I got boy puppies. And boy puppies have this wretched adorable habit of getting…a little frisky sometimes. You know like when they are feelin the love…alright fine I’ll say it they freaking hump the crap out of everything.
So one day my sister’s puppy Loki was…trying to get it on…with a pillow. And Court, in her frustration, yelled out, “Stop that! Loki today is NOT Hump Day!”.
And promptly ruined the Hump Day nickname for me for all of time. And now I’ve possibly ruined it for you too? Ah well such is life. Now you can have the joy of yelling out the days it is NOT when your dogs start doing the humpty dumpty.
Have a great day! I probably won’t see you tomorrow, so Happy Thanksgiving!!!!!