It's so cold I can't bring myself to wear anything but velvet. It's so warm and soft and surely more socially acceptable than wearing a flannel nightgown and slippers to a meeting. People have such high expectations. It's twenty below, for God's sake. Who cares what you look like?
The truth is I was at a meeting before Christmas and everyone had kicked off their shoes at the door. There was a pair of shoes there that looked like the woman who wore them in must have had her feet bound. I'm sure I stood there agog and stared at those shoes with their pointy toes and itty-bitty spikey heels. My shoes weigh about five pounds each and look like something an immigrant would wear on the Oregon trail.
I made French onion soup for dinner with big chunks of floating baguette and broiled Swiss cheese. A perfect meal for a cold night. This is Day #3 of my written-down menu campaign. It does eliminate some decision making on the ride home, that's for sure, but Regis and I have different views on that. I like to sit for a while and decide I want oatmeal and toast or popcorn for dinner. He likes to know about noon what's for dinner and he doesn't like surprises. Ha! I should post that joke about the guy who married the woman from Minnesota. I'm not an advocate for violence, but...
I'm looking around my living room. It would be a nightmare for What Not to Wear and HGTV. I have two pieces of red furniture, the drapes are red velvet (more like cheap velour), I'm sitting under a red microfiber blanket, and I'm wearing a merlot velvet tunic. Is that too much red? Oh, and red wine. A red phone. Two red checked chairs. A red scarf. A red shawl draped over the red checked chair.