Whatchoo-Wish-You-Were-Wearin’ Wednesday: Autumn Fever

Whatchoo-Wish-You-Were-Wearin’ Wednesday: Autumn Fever

I’m so predictable, but I don’t care.

I realize it’s only August 20, but it’s close enough, people. Yes, I’ll be enjoying every last moment until school starts, but you know I’ve also noticed that the night air is cooler, the morning breeze is crisper, and my windows are open often enough that I’m now far more familiar with the sound of the cicadas than the whir of the air conditioner.

It’s a beautiful thing, the onset of fall, and I’m so ready for it.

Here’s to cozy sweaters and hot coffees!

Nothing I Don’t Love About Autumn

Grey Poncho / Paige Denim Jeans / CAbi’s Bisou ScarfSalvatore Ferragamo Wedge Shoes /

Stella & Dot Madison Tech Bag / Stella & Dot Silver Cady Wrap / Stella & Dot Cleopatra Studs


This week’s Stella & Dot highlights include the gorgeous Madison Tech bag and one of my new, easy-to-layer wraps, the Silver Cady. Love ’em? Click on over to my boutique for more info or message me with questions.

Want them for free?

Let’s talk Style Session or Trunk Show, ladies! All you need is a love for style, free stuff, and your circle of friends. I do the rest. It’s that easy!


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It’s All Our Perception

It’s All Our Perception

I was flipping through a magazine a few weeks back, and a quote I saw nearly bowled me over.

It was from Dr. Phil, a guy I used to really enjoying listening to—and probably still would—but I’d heard him utter the phrase a soft place to land once too often and had to let go.

Anyway, this time I found his words in print, and his wisdom once again struck me:

There is no reality, he saidjust perception.

Have you ever heard that before?! I hadn’t. A pretty simple thought, yet so profound.

It was the perfect explanation to something I’d been contemplating for a long time.

It all goes back to a conversation I’d had with a friend—a good friend—a year or so ago. This friend {Friend A} is an amazing gal: kind, generous, and fun, but she had a less-than-flattering impression of another gal I knew, whom I’ll refer to as Friend B.

Friend B is unbelievable.

She’s fantastic.

She’d do anything for anyone and is just as kind and wonderful as Friend A, though I’d say their personalities and strengths varied.

So HOW could one kind-and-wonderful person not recognize kind-and-wonderful in another? And how could I see something so drastically different than this woman whose opinion I valued and admired?


We See Things As We Are

photo via Poster Inspired @ Etsy

There is no reality, just perception.

And Friend A had a slightly different perception of Friend B than I did.

We believe reality IS the way we see things, which, of course, is affected by our own {sometimes stubborn} thoughts on how things should be and how people should behave: our personal set of standards. We hold ourselves as the measure of whether someone’s up-to-par or not: if we perceive someone to be like us or we admire them for something we wish we were, then they earn our seal of approval. If we perceive them to be different in a way we don’t value, then they’re off our A list.

That’s not to point a finger at Friend A. We all do this at some point in time. Admit it.

I know I’m guilty.

An example: I met a gal in college who came off to me as snarky. She was curt and often sarcastic and standoffish, which, to someone who appreciates warm-and-fuzzy, was not cool.

I’m actually quite suspicious of folks who don’t hug or find it hard to crack a smile.

That first semester, we only had brief encounters, and my impression of her didn’t change. In my mind, the reality of it was that she was downright rude. Until one day in the spring, when fate—and our study schedules—had it that we sat at the same table at the library, and both ended up heading outside for a break at the same time. And we talked.

And then laughed a little bit. And talked some more.

And I realized she could smile, and had a great sense of humor beyond sarcasm.

And my perception changed.

She’d always had these facets to her personality. She didn’t just—at that moment—develop those qualities that I’d sworn she never had. I just perceived that they were lacking, and would’ve testified to that fact if I’d been asked just a day before.

I was so wrong.

And let me be honest, it’s happened time and time again: me judging someone in a certain way and being way off-base.

I think this concept should be taught early on, before we all grow old and so set in our ways. Say your prayers and please and thank you, look folks in the eye when you’re talking to them, early to bed/early to rise, and oh, there is no reality, just perception, because I’m 43, and—if it hadn’t been for that bold Texan—I never would’ve had that epiphany.

Of course, we don’t all have to like each other, and that’s okay, too. Friend A can not enjoy the company of Friend B and that doesn’t lessen either of them in any way. We all value different things in friends and can choose whom we surround ourselves with and include in our dear inner circle.

But maybe, we could all just take a step back before we decide to size someone up, and give folks the benefit of the doubt. And realize that there’s more than one way of seeing something. There’s more than our perception.

And just understanding that seems to me like a nice little gift to the world.

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That Whole “Precious Present” Thing

That Whole “Precious Present” Thing

We were rushing to get out of the house.

Well, I was.

I had a long to-do list that day and I wanted it done before I could spend the afternoon chillin’ by the pool while The Boy played. That’s the way I’d planned it, after all: rush, rush, rush in the morning then a pre-ordained “chill” session later that day.

Crazy, huh? To plan when you’re going to still yourself and enjoy?

And yet it really only struck me how absurd I can get when The Boy asked me what time it was.

Glancing at the clock, noticing both hands hovered at the 10 {though not quite}, I hollered that it was 10 o’clock and we needed to go.

“No, it’s not, Mom … it’s 9:50!” was his answer.

Instead of being charmed, I was irritated, and about to explain that often, adults round up just to keep things simple, until I realized that wasn’t simple at all. It was ridiculous, and it wasted precious time. Literally.

My boy was right: it was 9:50, but I was pretending those sweet 10 minutes before the top of the hour were already gone.

Done. Spoken for.

As if they didn’t even exist, but for him, they held a whole lot of possibility and goodness, and he wanted to enjoy each second.


{photo via oh, hello friend}

And in that quick moment, I stopped.

And enjoyed one last cup of coffee. {There’s always time for that, right?}

While he made his bed.

And pet the dog.

And flipped to a certain page in his book for reference. {Pretty sure he said it had to do with a certain Skylander.}

And grabbed a toy for the ride.

And his new favorite cap.

And I sipped and sipped.

So many little things enjoyed in time I was ready to give away.

And I had learned—from The Boy yet again—two things:

that I need to stop rushing

and I need to learn to enjoy each moment for what it’s worth.

Which, turns out, is a whole heck of a lot.


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