wasn't i supposed to take a class on this in college?

We just got back from a family reunion in Utah, during which we had brief training on how to clean a house. As I listened to tips and tricks with toothbrushes, magic erasers, scrubbing bubbles and vinegar, I realized that I know next to nothing about cleaning. Well, thanks to my 2010 Survey of Household Chores, I know I should wash my sheets more than once a year. But really, that's about next to nothing, huh?

Then I was looking through my closet for something to wear (also a recent topic of this blog). Why is my closet full of clothes I don't wear because they don't fit right, aren't comfortable, don't match anything, or aren't right for the occasion?

And this morning I had a conversation with a friend about paying more for better quality goods. Real wood. Shoes that last. Produce that is delicious.

All of this led to me spending Genghis's afternoon nap trying to write a personal, comprehensive self-help guide to my life. A plan to live well, in budget, and with enough leisure time to enjoy it all.

I'll let you know when it's done.

In the meantime, perhaps I'll advise my children to take Home Economics because no bets they'll learn it from me.

And now follow my stream of consciousness to a funny conversation I heard at a Wendy's in nowhere Indiana where I was stopped for dinner on a long drive home. The conversation was between 4 fresh-out-of-highschoolers, although this snippet is just 2 of them. The girl was talking about starting school at the local college the next day.

Girl: I'm so nervous for tomorrow! It's like, do I bring a backpack? I had to buy tons of books for my classes. What do I do with them?

Guy: You can bring a backpack. Everyone does.

Girl: (whew!) Oh really!? My brother totally said that no one has backpacks. I didn't know what to do. And then I have this hour break in my schedule from 11 to 12. What do I do then?

Guy: Whatever you want. Study.

Girl: But where do I go? I'll be, like, all alone.

Guy: Just go wherever you want. The library?

Girl: Oh, I'm so nervous. What's your schedule like?

Guy: I have some classes in the morning?

Girl: So will you be around at 11?

Guy: Yeah.

Girl: Okay, you totally have to come find me. I'll be like the dorky one that doesn't know where to go. Please, please, please!

It made me wonder if I was like that when I started college. Most likely, yes.

fa-shun

While I was working out at the Y the other day, I was sucked into a "news" program that told me what I simply had to have for my summer wardrobe. Before I realized what was happening, I found myself mentally rehearsing their tips.

1. Colored jeans
2. Shirt dress
3. Colorful scarf
4. Don't try to wear 1-3 at the same time

Comparing my own wardrobe with their video shots, I couldn't deny what was painfully obvious: I've been living in a fashion vacuum. (Just to make sure the analogy carries, I'm the one in the vacuum. Fashion is what has been completely sucked away.)

No one would describe me as fashionable. But somehow I've retained the notion that I at least get what the trends are, even if I chose not to follow them. Skinny jeans, for example. I know they exist. I know I will never own a pair.

In my particularly fine moments, I imagine that I am really on the cutting edge of the "comfortable-classic yet always hip-hot" kind of fashion. People envy my bold choices of boot cut jeans and colored tees. Every day of the week.

But then I look down at my Keen sandals and the illusion vanishes. These sandals have sweet spirits, okay. And are one of the few shoes that don't hurt my feet. I have plantar fasciitus, people, and wedges and ballet flats just don't cut it.

This realization of my loss of fashion (or inability to ever find it in the first place) has been coming on more quickly since my Houston conference a few weeks ago. I was in one of those career self-help workshops. The motivational speaker talked about making sure our dress and appearance is in line with how we want people to perceive our "brand". At this point I tried to hide my flip-flopped feet under my 10-year old, fraying messenger bag.

Oh, to just be a college student again.

Well, I confronted fashion on Monday at the mall. I needed some dressy shirts to wear to several client meetings I have coming up. Armed in my peasant skirt with a shrieking baby* strapped to my back, I made it to a grand total of 3 stores. If I had any belief that I knew about fashion when I went in, it evaporated when I turned to a rack of stylish ... somethings. I couldn't tell what part of my body these beautiful swaths of fabric were meant to cover. Looking around the store for more clues, I realized that, while I did know where most of the clothes were supposed to fit on me, I had no idea how to wear them. What went with what? Certainly nothing was meant for my boot cuts and Keens. Could any of it work with my dress slacks?

In this dazed state, I retreated to a small rack of embellished tees made out of fancy looking fabric. $50 and 5 fancy tees later (well, as fancy as you can get at $10 a piece), I made it back to the safety of my '99 Corolla.

Toyotas are in style, right?