Category Archives: por que?

A Head Start on Fall Fashion

As I was picking through this, that and the other pair of ballet flats on ShopStyle, I realized that it has been absolutely AGES since I’ve regaled you with any sort of fashion guidance.

Por que?

Obviously I did a rather prolific amount of shopping pre-honeymoon.  My closet is packed with the frocks and tunics to prove it.

But when we got home, I decided that I wanted to hold off on the retail therapy until fall got a little…closer.

I kept both peepers peeled while we were overseas, because I wanted to get an idea of what Minnesotans would be wearing in…two years.

It takes trends a while to really “make it” to the Midwest, you know?

Go Wild:  Leggings, nautical-everything and Kate Middleton are still in.  As are rompers.   Vote yes to Hermes Orange and bold shades of blue.  Or more reasonably, you won’t put a foot wrong with navy, olive greens and everything in the “buff” family.

I’m not sure why there seems to be such a slant in this direction, but I’m just guessing that it has to do with the fact that they seem somewhat…austere.  Or maybe we just like being reminded of the military.

Who knows?  Who cares?

The Caution Tape: Ikat and Navajo are more fully transitioning into “Western.”  Period.  Don’t pretend like it wasn’t time for one, coherent, bold pattern.  We needed it yesterday.  And, apparently no one is wearing TOMS anymore.

I can only come up with three reasons for this phenomenon:

  1. They’ve jumped the shark
  2. They hate barefoot orphans
  3. Maybe they just donate their money directly to causes

The Jury Of Kat is still out on this one.

Hot and not aside, what do I want to hang in my closet for weekend trips to the orchard and our next round of Dive Bar Dates?

I know, I know.  There are no pants in this picture.

Someday I’ll commit to buying a proper pair of jeans again, but since I don’t know what size my thighs will be at the end of marathon training (they were sturdy to begin with), there’s really no point in entertaining that idea.

Next week we’ll do frocks and heels.

What are you dying to add to your wardrobe for Fall?

How do you decide which trends are worth investing in?

How do you feel about the fact that there are no TOMS in Europe?

Quite honestly, I thought that they would be more popular than they are here.  And yet, I didn’t see a single pair on anyone who wasn’t from America.


Wedding Wednesday

In the past year or so, like the horse of a different color in The Wizard of Oz, the colors of our wedding have changed.

Because who likes consistency, right?

Some brides pick a color, commit to the cause, and start actioning Vision Boards like there really won’t be a tomorrow.  NOTHING will deter them or get in their way.

Obviously I didn’t create enough any of those, because we’re on color combination #4.

It all started innocently, with an interesting purple-ish color that I couldn’t accurately describe to anyone.  That shouldn’t have come as such a shock to me, considering the fact that I didn’t know what color it really was.

But EVERYONE played along and agreed that it was going to look “just gorgeous.”

Obviously I can now definitively answer “Yes,” when asked if I am, in fact surrounded by soothsayers.

Well, that plan (Operation: Mystery Purple) was totally scrapped when we found The Dresses.  Really, I wasn’t so cut-up about the issue.

We just righted the ship and changed course.  Black!  White!  Silver!  Maybe Purple Shoes!  Maybe not purple shoes if they make everyone look like a hooker!

And then, we finally started meeting with florists.

Yes, I know that we were a little late to the game on this one, but leisurely planning is definitely one of the perks of the traditional Sunday Jewish wedding.

See, we’re not doing elaborate floral arrangements on the tables.

Por que?  There will be 40 of them (the tables), and we’ll only be able to enjoy them for 12 hours…max.  From a cost-standpoint, it’s expensive, but more realistically, it’s kind of wasteful.

I’d rather have fresh bouquets of flowers delivered to my house every week for the next year.

But while we were meeting with this florist, Florist #1,  she suggested that we could scatter red rose petals around the cupcake tiers on each table.


And in the blink of an eye, our wedding color became red.

Red rose petals…red velvet cupcakes…I’m not one that takes a lot of convincing.  Obviously.

That’s what happens when you try to plan without a high level of commitment.

We met with another florist, Florist #2, who was more than happy to continue to hash the rose petal idea out with us.  It adds color!  Texture!  Visual Interest!

Since my bouquet (as well as my bridesmaids) will be white with green and red undertones (this was NOT my inspiration, but think of a color palette that you’d see on a Gala/Pink Lady/Fuji apple or something of the like), she led us down the logical path to choosing WHITE rose petals.


Remember that whole not-so-hard to convince-thing?

Goodbye, red.  We barely knew ye.

Black and white wedding, here we come!

What are your favorite bouquet-type flowers?

What’s the best/worst color (or color-combination!) you’ve seen someone use at a wedding?

The Airing of Grievances

I try to avoid outright bitching on The Blog.

Por que?

I don’t find that writing angry things is a particularly cathartic act for me, and quite honestly, nine times out of ten, I find that sort of thing to be whiny and annoying.

But it’s Festivus.

I completed my Feat of Strength on the treadmill this morning.  In lieu of an Aluminum pole (not something I ordinarily keep around the house) we found a roll of foil.  To complete the day’s celebrations, it’s time for the annual Airing of Grievances.

Comcast…I feel like I shouldn’t even have to say it.  But really, I do.  I used to be a Comcast fan, in spite of evidence to the contrary.  Yes, it was irrational, but I was also totally fine with it.  But, after the great Midwestern disaster of 2010, no more.

Fashion’s Night Out…A great concept that’s so heinously executed.  It’s great that This Model and That Star are busy singing karaoke and serving desserts at any and all of the boutiques in the city.  It’s even more fantastic that thousands of women are empowered to prance into stores that they would never dare cross-over the threshold of in the daylight.  What’s not great?  The hideous shirts they design for the affair, and the fact that I have to read about it in Vogue for at least five months of the year.  We get it.  It happened.

Lysol Scented Spray…Instead of effectively addressing offensive odors, everything just ends up smelling like Tropical Breezes.  And turds.  May God save us all.

Old Navy…While I love them for their flip flops, their clothes magically add 10 pounds to the wearer.  From time to time I claim temporary amnesia and make an order.  But the end result?  Is always the Return In-Store option.

What’s your Festivus grievance?  Air it now.

Cross my heart…

When I’ve had more than a few drinks, I become a pinky-promiser.  One of my key platforms this fall for pinky-promises revolves around the premise that women get married, have children, and then proceed to cut off all of their hair.

Which begs the question, por que?

Seriously, why we’re compelled to do this at the most vulnerable moment in our life (hopped up on hormones, still rocking the baby weight, bloaty) is completely beyond me.

Thankfully, this is one of those times when the lamestream media (it’s my favorite Palinism)  is there to back me up.

NYT: Why Can’t Middle-Aged Women Have Long Hair?

For the record, when I’m 40, if I don’t have Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader hair, I will be pissed.

Are you a drunk pinky-promiser?

Just Chirpy

Yesterday was so lovely I could have chirped. 

As to why I could have chirped, specifically, I can’t explain.  But it was definitely a chirping feeling. 

Just roll with it. 

But it does beg the question, por que?

I ran for an hour on the treadmill without pain.  Which (God willing), means that I should be able to run the 10 Mile next Sunday.  It means the world to me, which is really kind of funny since I was 0% concerned about the situation until it looked like everything could just fall to pieces.  Thank you all for humoring me while I’ve been working through this – I know reading about someone else’s super anti-climatic running injury isn’t the most captivating of stuff.

I also learned that Emily is the kind of friend who is willing to humor my irrational Fear of Burning Down the House With My Crockpot if I Leave it On All Day, and MORE importantly, will humor this by satisfying my ridiculous (and insane) craving for her Chicken Taco Stew.  I owe her one, and I owe you all a recipe.

And, Marcus is finally home (again!)…he’s been in Newark since Wednesday.  Being apart for a few days is no problem at all, but he’s been travelling a TON lately.  Thankfully, that seems to be the last of it for a while.  Not that the travelling he does for work is such a bad gig – last night he took the train into NYC to catch-up with Steph and Phil.  Um, can you say jealous?!  I told him that I can definitely see a date night in our cards, if we can survive this weekend :).

Other activities on the weekend agenda include: Bowling with The Ladies (they will bowl, I will chat), enjoying some quality time with another set of lovelies that I haven’t seen properly in a month,  tackling The 2010 September Issue, making savory treats for David and Sue’s Sukkot party (in addition to actually going to said party), and running the Plymouth Fire Fighter 5k.  I’m still operating under the delusion that I actually have free time hiding in there somewhere, but that will all come crashing down soon enough.

What fabulous things are you looking forward to this weekend?

And, don’t forget to enter my giveaway!

Descending into the Depths of Shamelessness

Fact: I had exactly the same evening eats two nights in a row.  The suspects? 

  • Baked potato stuffed with shredded cheese, butter and plain yogurt
  • Roasted broccoli
  • Gelato-sundae with cherry pie filling and chocolate chips (meant to emulate my favorite Culver’s sundae, the Cherry Blossom). 

Por que?  Because it was freaking delicious.  And while they say that you should vary the foods you eat to avoid boredom, sometimes it’s just so darned good that you need to take another whack at it.

For the record, I don’t plan on turning Tenaciously Yours, into some sort of glorified food journal.  But sometimes I like to share the depths of my shamelessness with you all.

Or the fact that I excel specifically at eating the most bizarre combinations of food possible.

Separately, may I confess to you all that for the past year, I’ve harbored a fear of baking potatoes?  Embarassingly enough, baked potatoes were one of the early dishes that Marcus and I managed to crash and burn with and, you really can’t just come-back from that one.  So I avoided making them.  Like the plague.  Until I boldly informed his high school friends several months ago that I would be making Twice-Baked Potatoes for the dinner party we were having at the time.  Genius move.


I can cook those puppies up like it ain’t no thang.  My life now most closely resembles one giant baked potato bar.

Call it a Battle Scene

So…what kind of night is tonight?

Well, I managed to put my license plate tabs on by myself so I suppose you could call that a shining example of my can-do spirit.

It’s the kind where you have a glass of red wine, eat a Reese’s egg and then are still totally without a clue of what exactly it is that you want for dinner (In my defense, I also had a banana at about 7 pm whilst I was caring for the Tiny Fang.).  I have a feeling that if/when Marcus ever gets out of Hot Tub Time Machine, I will be making him take me somewhere.

Por que?

Because when I got to his place at 8 pm, the deconstructed Hookah was strewn all over the kitchen (including across the stove and don’t worry it’s electric, not gas) and I discovered that in the spirited effort to put the four remaining bottles of beer in the fridge in the case they came in, the happy hour-farers failed to properly shut the darned thing.  So first there was simply no cooking.  And now?  There is really NO cooking.

Victory is abounding in this abode tonight.

You could also say this is why we can’t have nice things.