Speaking Of Day Trips: A Two-for-One

I've been saving up my birthday money for my die-hard favorite store - the J. Crew outlet in Cincinnati. This is not like the outlet up in our parts, what with the rinky-dink storefront and half-hearted displays of weirdo shirts that look somewhat familiar, but upon further inspection, were stitched from the left-over fabric from a batch of last year's mens boxers that didn't sell particularly well in the first place.

This is like a real J. Crew store, but with sales. Lots of sales.

It even has a Crewcuts, but I don't dare venture back there.

Or, I do venture back there, but I don't touch anything.

Or maybe I do venture back and touch things, but I don't ever, ever buy anything, because what little girl needs a J. Crew habit? And honestly? Kids get dirty. And their clothes should not cost more than their Mama's. And they really don't even care. And some little-big boys will only wear shirts made of mesh with a number plastered on the back.

Or maybe, maybe I buy one little Crewcuts shirt, but only because it's on sale for $5 and it says "Ruby's Crab Shack" on the front.

But only then do I buy. Only then.

Only then. Only then... even if it's the cutest little girl stuff on this side of anywhere...Only then...I have found that it helps to repeat this mantra ad nauseaum...Only then.

Here's what blogging will do to you. It will skew your grip on reality in such a way that you find it acceptable to have your husband photograph you with your Auntie Anne's lemonade, out in the middle of the plaza.

Upon playback, you'll realize that he did not include your itty bitty bag, and you'll make him take another one.

Even if it's 97 degrees in the shade and you let your hair air-dry {again} and you're wearing the skirt with the hole in the back that you safety-pinned closed because you are afraid to sew, and there are people around, you will still do this.

Because you have lost your ever-loving mind.

And because a personal paparazzo is a terrible thing to waste.


Addendum:
What will $50 get you at the J. Crew outlet? Well, I'll give you a hint. It fits in a bag roughly the size of my abnormally large hand. In this case, it happens to be a purple silk, ruffly top that may or may not inspire a confused look by one's husband; and a men's heather grey sweatshirt, that is already destined for a star on the FPFG walk of fame, come Winter.

Addendum 2:
I guest posted here today. Have a look see.