Hair: The Long and Shaggy of it

I said it was coming, and after a long and arduous scouring of the archives, I've gathered enough evidence upon which you can base your votes.  Above is Jimmy's current hair style.  It's driving me nuts, mostly because it's not really a style at all, but rather hair that has been left un-cut for several months.  Hair which he vows he will not cut until the bébé is born.  That's another five weeks, people!  And TBH, I don't think he will cut it after the bundle arrives.  Why?  Because I am his hairdresser, and I only know two styles: buzz cut and buzz cut with a mohawk stripe, both of which he loves, of course.  But he is adamant that long hair is where it's at right now.  I don't do long hair, and he won't go to a proper hair dresser, which is why I have concluded that mop is going to be around for much longer than five weeks.
Especially since he discovered yesterday that if he combs it a certain way it's starting to look like his favourite movie villain of all time.

Why anyone would aspire to look like this, I don't know.  I told Jimmy it was the worst hair ever, and he said "No it's not!", only to be proven wrong by a quick Google search for worst movie hair of all time.

If it's long hair he wants, and Javier his muse, why not go for this?

Or this?

Clearly I need help in convincing my mule of a husband that his hair is in need of attention, so browse below and leave your votes via comment box. I'm desperate, and he may listen to his public before he will listen to me!

First up the short cuts, all of which are my handiwork.  I missed my calling, I know. 

Look 1: Buzz Cut

Look 2: Buzz cut with mohawk stripe

Mohawk stripes again!

Now to the medium length looks.  These were done by an actual professional.

He actually asked for a mullet.  I kid you not.

Length that is tamed.  Not so for the BBQ sauce.

Wedding day spikes.

Another mullet-like look, albeit better than the first one.

I think one of Jimmy's biggest problems with his hair is that it is very thick and must be cut often to maintain a style. A s you might have guessed, he's not one to keep a regular six week appointment at the salon.  Evidence of the shaggy grow out:

It starts to look wild fast!

You've seen him during his hair farmer days before, but here it is again, a painful reminder:

So please, make your opinion known and save us from an unpleasant repetition of the past.  If not for my sake, then for the sake of the peanut who will have to look at that hair-do in their baby book photos for the rest of his or her life!

Shelby

Found on the Interweb and my Kitchen Counter

I can't stop playing this.  Thanks to my cousin Sydney for sharing.  In Syd's words, Nicki's voice is amazing and she makes the kazoo not sound like @$$.  So eloquently put.

Meanwhile Jimmy has been leaving me messages all over the house in hieroglyphics.  When I work out what he's trying to tell me, I'll let you know. Hopefully it's not urgent.  All I've got so far is something about a Toblerone, based on the triangle at the top.  But I don't even like Toblerone, so I'm not sure what it all means.
Enjoy your Friday night,
Shelby

Spring Cleaning

Hello internet.  Jut writing to tell you that today, the sun came out, and it stayed out. All.  Day.  Long.  I can't tell you how happy that has made this achey backed, sleep deprived, whale of a woman!  I've been trying and trying to tell Jimmy that it doesn't take much, but somehow from the crouched position he assumes while putting on and taking off my socks he just can't hear me.
Since the sun made a rare appearance today, my motivation decided to respond in kind.  So I vacuumed the lawn.  That's right, vacuumed.  We had a very warmish winter (for Edmonton) which meant lots of ice, and in my condition I was forever fearful of a fall.  So I went a little crazy with the gravel, which wasn't a problem on our front walks, but it sure was on the cobble stone path out back.  Jimmy did ask how I thought we might clean it up when he came home one cold December day to see his backyard turned into a sand pit.  I told him that I would take care of it come spring.  And did I ever!

Before

After

This project also involved the cleaning out of the sunroom and required three different vacuums, not to mention the prettiest outfit you've ever seen on a woman who was vacuuming the lawn.  The first vacuum was the central vac snaked out the back door from its plug in situated in the kitchen.  This model was used to clean the tile in the sunroom.

Hooded zip up: Jimmy's closet  Tank top: Gap Maternity
Leggings and Boots: The trash bin behind What Not to Wear's Studio

The second model was the Bissel upright to suck up all the grit on the durable astro turf like substance both inside and outside the sunroom.

And while I did try to get the Bissell to do the job on the paving stones and grass surrounding said paving stones, it wasn't up to the job.  So, the shop vac was summoned from its throne atop my all season tires in the garage.  I think you'll agree that the grass looks much happier after a good vacuuming.

After. Again.

I believe that completion of this particular chore means that I am exempt from washing the windows this year.  Not that I ever washed them before.
Shelby

Mall Mania Photo Shoot

I've been promising it for eons, and here it comes, jumping through your computer screen in all its fuzzy glory.  A couple of weeks back my mom and I spent a Friday afternoon at West Edmonton Mall doing a fitting room photo shoot.  We had time for only two locales: Forever 21 and Old Navy.
First off, Forever 21.  While they do not have an actual maternity line, we were able to find many things that would envelop the bump.  And with those prices, you can't go wrong!  Reasonable pricing aside, the staff were not on board with our photo shoot, even if it was for a prominent local fashion blog.  Actually, they usually won't allow your entourage into the fitting rooms with you, instead making you parade awkwardly into the store to get a second opinion on your outfit, so we had to be very sneaky in order to get both of us into the fitting room in the first place.  So pardon the unvarying background and poses, but we were under suspicion and therefore limited to the confined and very hot space.
On to the photos.  All of the following are courtesy of our unwitting sponsors at Forever 21:

The story: This was our first outfit, and we both thought it looked cute at the time. 

Upon further reflection we decided it was more frumpy than cute.

I think my mom took her inspiration from a combination of 

Little House on the Prairie and Aztec motifs of yore.  Maybe

without the cardi?  As is it's perfect for lounging on 

the coach while watching 19 Kids and Counting.

 The story: A charming wrap dress in royal blue paired with pearls is the perfect outfit for mass on Sunday or for hosting a last minute dinner party for the husband's boss and his wife.  Just make sure you have time to polish the silver! 

The story: A sweet tunic dressed up with gold chains and pearls will take you

from Easter dinner to . . . I don't know where else.  A pregnant lady will

likely be very full and tired after Easter Dinner.  Best just to head

home and put on outfit 1 to be reunited with your re-runs.

The story: Florals are big this spring, and pairing this feminine dress with a

cute straw hat will keep your melasma from getting any worse on those

sunny days at the park frolicking through the spring flowers.

The story: Seen the show Babies Behind Bars?  There's no reason prison 

stripes can't be fashionable.  Of course you probably wouldn't be 

allowed the accessories.  

Hope you've enjoyed the fuzzy photos, and worry not, there are at least two more installments to come.

Shelby

Read Me . . .

. . . elsewhere!  I have another article published here.  It's always a thrill when someone else thinks you write well enough to be published on a real, live website you haven't posted yourself!  I'll be busy this week researching for my next article. It's going to be tough, but someone has to report on the pregnancy spa experience! I promise, while I'm having my massage I will be thinking totally subjective and journalistic thoughts.

It was a very busy weekend with lots to tell you about, but for now I'm off to the doctor to find out if I've busted my own record of gaining four pounds in two weeks. And I have big plans to see The Hunger Games tonight.

I'll leave you with this and this.  Just a little spring fashion inspiration in case spring has actually arrived wherever you are, because it certainly hasn't made much of an appearance in Edmonton.  Even just a little sun would do!
Sigh,
Shelby

Moobs

Title translation: mom boobs.  I'm about to alienate my male readership, meaning my page views can be expected to drop from 16 down to 14, but it's a risk I have to take. And so down the slippery slope of "Too Much Information" (or TMI for you tech savvy people out there) blogging I slink.
I don't know a single woman who likes bra shopping under the best of circumstances.  Any men who are still reading are probably scratching their heads saying, "Really, Shelby?  I thought it was swim suit shopping that was the most detested by the fairer sex!"  While I applaud you men for your sensitive and empathetic observation, you are wrong.  While swim suit shopping is not fun, you can give up and resolve yourself to wearing a festively printed muumuu whilst lounging in the sand and sun.

The muumuu, aka The Problem Solver.

A bra however, cannot be avoided or substituted for.  When the last one you managed to purchase is being held together with safety pins, it is time subject yourself to the brightly lit, too small, too warm fitting room at an establishment where the staff are either too perky or too sullen.  Despite their variations in mood, all employees will have a tape measure around their necks, with which they are waiting to assault you.  Aside from all of this, the male readers are still wondering, "How can it be that bad?"  Unfortunately, men, we women cannot just pick up a 3 pack of Jockeys or Hanes in medium and know that they will fit.  Based on the store, the brand, or the style, not to mention fluctuations in weight you can never count on being the same size.  
All of this is totally separate from the horror of shopping for a bra while pregnant. But even that wasn't as bad as what I experienced yesterday.  You moms out there may have guessed that yesterday I had the distinct pleasure of shopping for a nursing bra.
Can I just say that if the fabric wasn't such a utilitarian beige, nursing bras would be almost dominatrix like, what with their strange clasps and oddly placed cut outs.  As the fabric is so steadfastly practical and bland however, there can be no mistaking that these are undergarments with one purpose, and one purpose only.  Visions of those stainless steel farm apparatus used in the cow shed come to mind.  Not only are these garments decidedly un-pretty, they are also really expensive.  And when it comes to size, you are forced to rely on the staff and their dastardly measuring tapes to help you make an educated guess, because while no one will mistake the nursing bra for an item found in the dressing room at an establishment called Show Girls or the like, the body parts they house would look right at home in that same dressing room, or so I'm told.
I survived the experience yesterday, just barely.  After leaving the fitting room strewn with crumpled beige rejects from end to end, I emerged, triumphant and out of breath, ONE tolerable option clutched in my sweaty palms.  
Thanks to my sister for her help in making this traumatic experience bearable. Ladies, if this will be your first time buying one of these horrific contraptions my advice to you is do not do it alone!!  You need a sponsor who will encourage you to take it one bra at a time.  Otherwise the burden may just become too difficult to bear.
Yours in melodrama,
Shelby

Restoration

The rustling sound in the trees you just heard?  That was caused by my deep inhalations as my head cold has finally fled the coop.  Hooray for breathing through two nostrils!  Who cares if standing upright for the 12.5 minutes it takes me to apply my makeup is enough cardio activity to leave me huffing and puffing!  At least I can huff and puff through my nose!  No one likes a mouth breather.  No one.
Further proof of my reestablishment as a productive member of society?  I cleaned my whole house!  Sure, it took quadruple the time it normally does, but still.  And while Jimmy has noted that I am starting to walk with a distinct waddle, I'm not quite to the point where I can no longer bend low enough to scrub out the tub.  When that time comes (within minutes, no doubt) I'll be making use of a (brilliant) tip passed on to me by my friend and mother of two, Bertha (name changed to protect identity). Once you've gotten too big to bend it like Beckham (or even like Betty White), perch your delicate self on the edge of the tub and use your swollen feet to push the sponge around the tub.  Good.  Enough.
Not only can I breathe and clean my house, I've taken pictures of Jimmy's outfit two days in a row!  Look out world, here I come!
Without further ado, Jimmy's outfits:

Wednesday: A full view, and yes, the pants are pin striped. 

Wednesday: Close up of the camel coloured argyll.

Thursday: Dapper in dress shirt and pants.

Jimmy has a special interest in shoes, and I agree with him because this is where many men's outfits fall apart.  I've said it before, as long as you've got a decent fit and flat front pants, you're pretty safe.  But the shoes, oh the shoes!  So many men's shoes fall in to the dreaded sausage category.  How can you be sure your shoes aren't sausages?  There are two criteria.  The first and most important is a cylindrical shape.  This is exacerbated by the second criteria, which is the illusion of a longer than necessary shoe. The lengthy appearance of the shoe without the presence of the cylindrical shape is fine.  But put the two together, and you're in trouble.  Photographic evidence below:

The dreaded sausage.

And for comparison, a close up of Jimmy's shoes:

A simple Steve Madden slip on.

A Diesel boat shoe boot.

The details of men's fashion can be exhilarating, no doubt about it.  Speaking of details, if you have any suggestions for Jimmy's hair, I do believe he is in that frightful in between stage and is looking for suggestions.  Hmmm, another idea for a future post - the evolution of Jimmy's hair.  You've seen my evolution and given your votes, now I think it's Jimmy's turn.  I've posted the long haired pics of his youth, but there have been many mutations over the years.  Off to the archives I trot to find you some photos!

Till next time,

Shelby

In Pictures

I have married a man who knows not what an old fashioned pram looks like.  The authors of 100 Essential Questions to Ask Before You Say "I Do" left that one out.  Had I only known . . .  

Why did this topic come up, you ask?  I've been thinking about having some family pictures taken after bébé arrives, something casual, maybe the three of us walking around downtown, and I thought an old fashioned pram would be the perfect prop for such a shoot.  But where to get one?  It's a good thing research is my favourite pass time.  I'll let you know what I find.  
Leaping on to a completely different train of thought, you might have guessed that I like watching The Ellen Show.  I also follow Ellen on Twitter.  For Classic Joke Monday, Ellen will re-tweet your joke if she thinks it's funny enough.  Last week I tweeted this one to her: What did the buffalo say when his son left for college?  Bi-son.  It didn't get a re-tweet.  Next Monday I'm gonna try this one: What did the French chicken say when it stubbed its toe?  Oeuf.  Here in Canada, this one should get laughs because we are bilingual, but I'm worried an American audience might not get it.  It's still pretty funny though.
Just in case my jokes don't cause Ellen to recognize my sense of humour, I'm hoping this picture might.

I sent it in for her "What's Wrong with These Photos?" segment.  I wonder what kind of joke she would make about it if she chooses to show it?  I don't know how she couldn't choose it.  It's pretty funny.
Follow me now to another unrelated topic: Jimmy's new fashion feature here on Chez Quinlan.  Generally speaking, I'm not very sharp in the morning, so as he was walking out to the garage this morning, I said, "Have a good day. You look really nice," remembering only as the words left my mouth that I should have had my camera at the ready!  Thankfully, I didn't miss much yesterday as Mondays tend to be a laid back day for him as he's usually tired after traveling on the weekend.  If I could I would capture his outfit from today upon his return home this evening, but by that time he'll have changed into his workout clothes, which are not in the least bit fashionable.  So maybe tomorrow I'll remember to get the job done in the am.  
And the last unrelated thought for the day: remember the fashion shoot I promised last week?  Well it happened, and it was the longest yet.  I'm still editing the photos. Unfortunately, my art director doesn't have the steadiest hand, and she was working with new equipment (namely my iPhone) which isn't very forgiving.  Here's a sneak peek.  More to come later this week, certainment!

Shelby

You're it!

In search of inspiration, I was fervently procrastinating researching new material online.  There has been a chain letter/tag type thing floating around some of my regular blog haunts lately.  I hadn't been tagged, but was thinking about stealing the idea anyway and just pretending I'd been tagged, but then Paige over at There's More Where That Came From brusquely declared her post as an open invitation rather than tagging people specifically.  I took that as my personal invitation.  So here goes:
The rules:
1. The first rule is to post these rules.

2. Post a photo of yourself and 11 things about you/your life .

3. Answer the questions set for you in the original post.

4. Create 11 new questions and tag people to answer them.

5. Go to their blog/twitter and tell them that you've tagged them.

Matching hair!  Kind of . . . 

Things you never knew you wanted to know:

1. Aside from being a card carrying school teacher (I seriously have a card that says I can be a teacher FOR LIFE.  Aren't I lucky?), I am also a yoga teacher.

2. I required my students to adjust their desks so that they were at right angles with the floor tiles several times a day.  When they failed to meet 90 degrees exactly, I would then re-adjust their desks for them.

3. Likewise, when teaching yoga, I would really prefer that all mats be aligned at 90 degrees exactly.  I haven't yet worked up the nerve to have my yoga students adjust their mats, however. 

4. I do not like most cooked vegetables.

5. I make a meal plan a month in advance.

6. I also do not like my food to touch.

7. Seven is my lucky number.

8. And so I got married on 07/07/07.

9. I have two middle names, the second more awful than the first.

10. My two bad middle names are still not as bad as my poor uncle's.  His middle name is Moise (pronounced Mo-ease. It's French).

11. I should start making dinner, but I just ate two cookie dough brownies and now have zero interest in eating a well balanced meal.

Paige's Questions:

1. If you liked dogs, could I sell you a slightly-used Boxer?  If I liked dogs, you could, but I don't, so you can't.

2. Favorite color? Granny Smith apple green.

3. I recently had the plumbing replaced in my kitchen, would that be something you'd consider paying for?  Again, if I liked plumbing, you could, but I don't, so you can't.

4. You can only meet one celebrity, who is it?  Ellen Degeneres. 

5. Do you stop watching TV if you lose the remote?  That depends what is on at the moment.

6. Second-favorite blog after mine?  Camp Patton.

7. Hobby?  Does eating count?  Maybe cooking sounds better, and it can still include eating.

8. If you had to pick someone to compliment today, would I be your first choice? Sure.  Love your glasses!

9. Last time you talked to a carnie or rode a Ferris wheel?  Not since junior high. Man, I've got to get out more often.

10. How's the weather?  Kind of grey and dreary.

11. How likely are you to click on the music video below? Cause you should. It's really weird.  I tried, Paige.  It did not work!!

And my own questions:

1. What is your middle name?

2. Do you know a funny joke?

3. The best thing that happened to you in the last week?

4. Favourite flavour of ice cream?

5. Last movie you saw?

6. Best vacation spot you've been to?

7. What is a favourite Christmas gift you were given as a child?

8. Are you a side, back, or stomach sleeper?

9. Have you ever quit something?  What was it?

10. How did you celebrate St. Patrick's day?

11. Ever broken a bone?  How'd you do it?


Like Paige, I'm not going to tag anyone - most bloggers I read have done this already.  If you want to give it a stab, let me know.  I'd love to read your answers.  If you're not a blogger, you could answer my clever questions in the comments section below.
Hasta,
Shelby

Sicko

Ugh . . . My aforementioned lack of motivation and energy has been compounded with a cold.  I have been rendered utterly useless.  I planned to start writing this post an hour ago, but needed those precious 60 minutes to recuperate after making the bed and emptying the dishwasher.  Lucky for you I have regained enough energy to write a post for you about . . . nothing much.
But fear not!  I have plans for another photo shoot with my mom tomorrow.  I also had a stroke of genius this morning.  It came to me right after I had crawled out of bed to make my husband his breakfast smoothie, but before I had packed his lunch and then crawled right back in to bed.  In fact, it came at the precise moment my husband appeared in the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed for a day inspiring the minds of tomorrow.
I realized my husband was looking pretty dapper.  This, in and of itself, is nothing new. Though it was a realization made easier because I myself looked the opposite of dapper with my nose rubbed raw by countless tissues and my belly hanging out the bottom of my too-small pajama top, but the fact remains that he looked good and does most mornings.  And so I think I'm going to have to do a feature on Jimmy's fashion.  I haven't actually broached the subject with him, but if he gives me any static, I'll just remind him that it's what the people want.
I should say though, that I don't believe it's that hard to dress well as a man.  Work wardrobe: nice dress shirt, nice dress pants, maybe the occasional sweater or cardigan, perhaps even a sweater vest, or even easier, a suit, and you're done. Casual wardrobe: nice jeans, a nice shirt, a nice jacket, and voila.  Don't get me wrong, some men have issues with fit - they seem horrified that their clothing might actually skim or touch their bodies - and there are many who still think pleated khakis are a safe bet, not to mention the whole colour blind gene that tends to be doled out along with the y chromosome that can cause problems.  All in all though, I would still argue that it's much simpler to put together a great wardrobe as a man than as a woman.  
And now that I've totally talked men's fashion down, I hope you can maintain your excitement for my new feature focused on just that topic.
Anyway the couch is calling, so I'd better get going.  Before I do, I know you've probably been feeling bad for Jimmy and the forced famine he's been enduring what with the lack of meat and potatoes around here lately.  Worry not!  I remedied that situation last night with this recipe from Smitten Kitchen.

It became crystal clear just how deprived Jimmy has been when he wolfed down seven drumsticks.  Definitely a crowd pleaser.  Try it on your own fam, why don't you?
Shelby

Wanted

Seeking a replacement for my motivation which has suddenly gone missing.  Said motivation has been replaced with an approximately 17 pound muffin top, shortness of breath when walking distances of more than a foot and sleepless nights punctuated with the most bizarr-o dreams outside of Tim Burton's REM cycle. Limited budget prevents an actual paid transaction for any motivation you may be selling, but a trade is possible.  Upon receipt of your gently used motivation, I will bake you a batch of the most delicious chocolate chip cookies you have ever eaten. It will not be a full batch, as I will have undoubtedly eaten several dozen, but still.
Interested parties may contact me by phone or email, which I will have my husband respond to. 


Ugh!  Seriously - I have no energy for anything.  I know everyone says this, but I can't imagine the steep decline that is yet to come over the next seven weeks. Neither can Jimmy.  My digestion is also lacking motivation, and so I am rarely hungry at dinner time.  It would take way too much energy to prepare a meal that I have no interest in eating, so it's been toast, fruit and yogurt at the timely hour of eight o'clock 'round these parts, poor guy.  He's really missing his meat and potatoes.
Never mind the decline in motivation and productivity, my supportive spouse and I are having a hard time imagining what my mega sized muffin top will look like in seven weeks.  In my opinion, James could have kept his horror to himself, but he never does.  Last night, wide eyed in amazement he declared, "I think you're going to be as big as a house by the end of this!"  He later amended this statement of love and support by adding, "It's just that you're still small everywhere else!  It's going to have to go somewhere!"  Indeed.  
If only I had this kind of airbrushing available to me at all times, because one of these things is not like the other.  Really - click these links, it's worth the energy needed to tap the mouse.  I wouldn't lie about what is or is not worthwhile energy expenditure in my current state.
Rest assured that I will work up enough energy to ask Jimmy to turn on the TV so that I might turn my eyes toward the screen to take in The Bachelor finale.  I can't wait!
Shelby

Gems from James: Christmas Past Edition

I know it's March and I shouldn't really be thinking about Christmas, but I figured we could all use a little Christmas cheer to hold us over till the next big holiday.  I'm talking about St. Patrick's Day of course.  What?  I'm very Irish - haven't you seen my last name?!
So anyways, you all know James produces gems for me to mine like gangbusters all year round, but what you didn't know was that he really shines them up in time for Christmas.  It all started way back in his university days with his job at a very classy wine store (which just moved to a beautiful new location, btw).  Most people agree that enjoying a festive beverage at Christmas time is right up there with building gingerbread houses, and so Christmas Eve is always a very busy day at the store.  The generous owner of the store would reward his hard working staff with a well deserved sip here and there throughout the day, opening bottles he had been saving up all year just for the occasion.  Needless to say, when the working day ended at four o'clock Jimmy required a chauffeur to get him to Christmas dinner where the festivities would continue.  After we were married it became a new tradition that Jimmy and I would meander back to my parents' house at the end of the night on Christmas Eve so that Santa might fill our stockings there.  
And thus Gems from James Christmas Edition was born.  Because he is such a generous soul, at Christmas time Jimmy shares his verbal nuggets with my whole family and not just me.  These are the type of gems that have mileage for years, and are often brought up at Sunday dinners.  Now that he no longer works at the wine store sipping vintage reds all day long, he has to work a little harder and faster to get himself into the festive mood, but he never, ever fails.
The year after we were married was the year Jimmy whisper-shouted to my parents and siblings what my Christmas gift (that I had yet to open) would be while I was sitting next to him, repeating his news every few minutes as he promptly forgot what he had just said.
A couple of years ago, Jimmy again suffered short term memory loss, saying to my sister:
"Do you like coconut flavoured lip gloss?  Because Shel got this coconut flavoured lip gloss from my aunt, and she doesn't like coconut.  You should have that coconut flavoured lip gloss."
And again, moments later:
"Do you like coconut flavoured lip gloss?  Because Shel got this coconut flavoured lip gloss from my aunt, and she doesn't like coconut.  You should have that coconut flavoured lip gloss."
But Christmas 2011 definitely takes the cake.  We pulled up to my parents' house, car loaded with gifts and food for the coming celebrations, and Jimmy decided at that exact moment he must immediately relieve himself . . . in the shrubs.  My very responsible brother-in-law chose this exact moment to exit the house to help his pregnant sister-in-law and her husband unload the car, which he did, laughing the whole time.  I don't believe Jimmy actually unloaded much from the car.  But he did make it into the house to have just one more celebratory Grey Goose and juice with his sibs-in-law.  Short term memory loss caused him to ask my sister several time where she had been that evening and otherwise entertain us, until suddenly, there was a pause in the conversation.  Jimmy leaned back in his chair and unleashed the best Christmas Edition gem yet:
"Man . . . a bird could fly right in to my face right now, and I wouldn't even care!"
We were stunned into silence.  Who knows what led him on this train of thought. The Grey Goose?  The thought of Christmas turkey?  We're not sure.  But we laughed at the absurdity of it.  
Jimmy didn't last much longer.  He suddenly became pale and announced he wouldn't be finishing his one last drink.  He made his way up to bed as I bid goodnight to the sibs, then followed a few minutes later.  I wasn't able to make it very far however, as I stumbled over a giant husband shaped lump lying at the top of the dark stairs.  I roused my no longer festive husband, and guided him to bed, where he rolled over and said:
"I really shouldn't have eaten those gummies.  They're what did me in!" And promptly fell into a peaceful slumber, sugar plum fairies spinning above his snoring head.  
And hey, guess what else?  I've been published on someone's site other than my own!  You can check out my first article here.
Can't you hardly wait for Christmas 2012?!  I told you some Christmas cheer was what we needed!
Update:  Jimmy just walked in the door and asked what I was doing.  I told him I was writing a blog post all about him.  His reply?
"It's about time you gave the people what they want!"  I need never worry about lacking material while he's around.
Shelby

Vogue

My mom insisted on playing Madonna's "Vogue" for the duration of this shoot to help get the creative juices flowing.  Just kidding!  But maybe we should try that next time . . . 
Serving up another healthy portion of everyone's favourite fashion subset: maternity wear!  Enjoy.

 

Sweater dress: My mom's closet  Bag: It's Italian  Boots: Tahari Story: Slipping my orthotic insoles into my boots before heading out the door for a night on the town.  True, I'll last only 45 minutes before my feet start to swell in those fabulous boots, but at least it will be 45 minutes of looking good. 

  Top: My mom's closet  Jeans: Thyme Maternity  Boots: Jessica Simpson (who else could make a fashion forward and functional high heeled hiking shoe?) Story: Editing a blog post before going out for a hike.  Didn't you see the boots?

Top: My sister's closet  Jeans: Thyme Maternity  Boots: I'm sure you could tell they're Italian

Story: Strutting my stuff before heading out to line dance at the local country bar.  Tassels are the hottest new trend in maternity.  Who cares if you're not looking your slimmest?  Draw some more attention to yourself.  Don't you want to up the number of strangers touching your stomach?

Top: Motherhood Maternity  Jeans: Gap Maternity  Boots: Italian 

Story:  I don't know, okay?  We were really clutching at straws here.  That's not even a real dog!!  In the second shot, I'm Middleton-ing.  It's a lesser known version of Tebowing or Owling. 

Until next time,

Shelby

Look What I Found!

Isn't this sweet?

What made it even sweeter was the $1.94 price tag and the fact that it was the last one on the Joe Fresh clearance rack.  I'm starting to shop more for little bits and pieces for the peanut, and am in a state of utter shock and disbelief at the very limited number of gender neutral items available.  Does everyone find out the gender of the tenant in their womb nowadays, thereby eliminating the high demand for sleepers in cream and yellow?  It sure seems like it.  My mother (if you'll recall she's art director and fashion editor here at Chez Quinlan) is incredibly frustrated.  

The other day she was thwarted in her efforts to find a suitable homecoming outfit for bébé Q and literally threw her hands up in exasperation.  She has resigned herself to rushing out of the hospital minutes after the announcement of Q's gender (she says newborns aren't much to look at so soon after their birth anyway) to return with a fashion forward and gender appropriate outfit just in time for the little one to have pinked up.  

In other, totally unrelated news, Jimmy and I enjoyed a lovely weekend as he had time off from his other job.  We went to a newish restaurant called Soda Jerks. Jimmy had a giant, build your own burger which included root beer barbecue sauce, chipotle aioli, and roasted red peppers.

I chose a sourdough grilled cheese, and seeing as I can't partake in any alcoholic beverages, I was very excited about all the fancy pop choices.  In a nod to my youth, I chose a Pop Shoppe lime rickey.  Mmmm, it tasted just like 1988.  It was so retro, it actually made the picture blurry, almost like a time warp.  All of a sudden I was hearing the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles theme song in my head . . . Anyways, the food was very good, as was the service.  I'll definitely be going back to sample more exotic soda flavours.

Bien sûr, with all of this bonding time there were many gems from James to be mined.  My doting husband asked, "Do you ever wish you could just have a glass of wine?"

Me: "Yes, yes, I really do."

He: "Me too, because I can't really open a bottle by myself."

I'm always amazed that his empathy for my current condition knows no bounds. That's all I can share for now.  I don't want to be blamed for making your life partner look bad in comparison to mine.

Ciao,

Shelby