i got stripes.

Hiya folks!
   
      Yesterday, I spent the day trying to get a decent self-portrait for the portrait class I’m taking. I guess the photos turned out ok, but for my sour face, which I always end up wearing in an attempt to ward off lurkers when I’m out shooting on my lonesome. At least I got some clear shots of my outfit. The weather has been brisk but not too cold this winter, allowing me to wear a shorts and coat combo. I’m wearing my favorite red 50s shorts with a cream 50s coat that I recently thrifted, and just a week after thrifting an identical black one! It’s been lucky days at the thrift store. To complete this 50s flavored outfit, I’ve topped my head with a pink beret of the same era.

    I’ve been having some nostalgic fun times lately, perhaps in an effort to resurrect my usual sunny self.  Recently, I dined at Sizzler’s restaurant in the town of Orange, where I spent my teenage years.  With every bite of cheesy toast, fried shrimp, chocolate mousse, my memories were revived. Most vividly, I recalled my mother’s insatiable appetite - always trying to get her money’s worth, she piled her plate precariously high each trip to the salad bar, which I never quite understood since it was all you can eat.  Though I expected the trip to Sizzler’s to be simply for nostalgia sake, I found myself raving about my meal in the same embarrassing way my mother would have - for too long and with too much enthusiasm. That same weekend, Pete and I went to Disneyland! It was a rainy day and I accidently wore slippery soled shoes, literally sliding into Tomorrowland, taking Pete along with me. It was funny, but it hurt.  Disneyland looms large in my memory, not just because I am a southern California native, but because I grew up down the street. Before going to Dland, I took Pete on a tour of the apartment complex that I grew up in, where my brothers and I used to jump the fence to pick strawberries from the strawberry field, to the annoyance of the field workers who would sometimes throw stink bombs at us.  Even though I lived just a few minutes from the Happiest Place on Earth, my neighborhood was pretty rough. Never wanting to be taken for a coward, it seemed I was always having to fight off some bully. At Disneyland, my favorite ride is Big Thunder Mountain. I’m a roller coaster lightweight, so Big Thunder Mountain is about my limit. I even think it has gotten faster, but it could just be that I’m becoming more of a wuss.
 
Outfit: chambray Keds, Ralph Lauren striped shirt, 50s cream coat (thrifted), 50s red shorts (Etsy), 50s pink beret (vintage store in Toronto).

I might regret it in the morning

The childish urge to cut my hair myself seeps into my head ever so often, like a little demon it prompts me to willy nilly create some bangs (and with regular old scissors too, not special hair cutting ones). I truly have no skill for such things, and this lack of a knack for cutting hair runs in my family. I remember when my little sister used to chop away at her hair as a youngin', looking much like an Amish boy when she got finished. Gosh, she used to embarrass me so. And then my mother always insisted upon cutting our hair herself to save money. My brothers got the bowl cut and I somehow got a Don King hair cut that stood up high except for when I was in the pool where I was often mistaken for a little boy. So it goes. I'm not too worried about it these days.

I stayed home from work today to take care of some personal business. I've also been listening to records and doing some housework, though I really ought to do more of the latter. But goodness, who wants to do housework on a Friday. Happy Friday, folks.

Outfit: 50s nude sheer top ( Etsy), 50s shorts (Etsy), red 50s bra (vintage shop in Lancaster, PA).