Milk Is The New Prada

'The time in between' by Maria Duenas

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 22:45:00 +0000

I was privileged to receive an advance copy of ' The time in between' to review. I have always wanted to visit Morroco and this gem of a book gave me the opportunity to live there, albeit in the 1800s. I was Sira and I was Eve, vacillating between these two sexy, strong female characters, because the strong writing and development of their story made it so easy.
I became an expert on the behind the scene politics of that time, with nary a yawn.

This book appealed to my vivid imagination and spirit of adventure. What could one be, if all was taken and the only option left was a risky opportunity? You WILL hold your breath. You WILL ignore your loved ones. You WILL take the train instead of driving, just to finish this book. Oh, and you will read it again. And again and again. Trust me.

And then there is the fact that writing about a female spy in the 1800's, takes mad skillz, yo. If you doubt this, give it a whirl sometime.

Heck, I might take up sewing after this. :o)

Buy this book. Is muchas bueno. Srsly.
P.S Happy New Year!
blogging again, pp

The little things

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Sun, 25 Sep 2011 13:40:00 +0000

Sometimes all you need is the little things. Not a whole lot of muss and fuss. Not a lot of words, or a mish-mash of metaphors, none of the bells and whistles, special effects or elaborate plans.
When was the last time your kids told you they could not have fun if you didn't take them on an expensive, pre-packaged vacation?

Or "No mama, we don't wanna go outside today." I didn't think so. :)

A picture is worth a thousand words.

A blog post with two words is better than holding out for the perfect alignment of pictures, writing flow and camera-ready moments, cause as we all know, when do those really happen? I mean really.

Sometimes, you just gotta let the little ones drive the boat.

Then one day a miracle will happen. They will say "I don't wanna watch T.V today. Wanna do work on the 'puter." And pigs ain't flyin' either.

Next thing you know, they're doing laundry. Unprompted. :)

Some days, all it takes is an old blanket and 4 cupcakes on your lawn for the perfect picnic.

The little things.

Frugal Foodie

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Tue, 06 Sep 2011 17:14:00 +0000

I used to be that girl. You know, the one that ate out every other night. Just because, hey, why not? '1789' for anniversaries, 'The Charleston' for lobster bisque (yummers), 'Cafe de Paris' for crepes and duck, 'Bob Evans' for banana bread etc etc etc. And some days, I'm not even gonna lie - I wanna be that girl again.

But, I don't know if you've heard of this little here thing called, ahem, the recession? Well, yeah. These days, the whole eating out thing? Well, not so much. I mean for special occasions, yes. And some occasions, we have to defer to life and 'da billz', yo.

So, this is where we get creative. It's all about using the formal dining room, whipping out the 'good china', splitting a bottle of great tasting muscato, and splurging on a good cut of meat. Cooked at home. By a man I love. Whom, I might add, just happens to love me.

I'd rather be this girl, methinks.

And so, I daresay, would she. (principessa with daddy on his birthday @ Chez Prada)

Can I say that the wine was $9, the beef wellington prepared by my hunnybunny was priceless, and the occasion was - you guessed it - 'just because'. Mmm hmm, we're living it up, peeps. :)

Egusi, garri and bud lite with lime. Don't sleep on it, people.

Bon Apetit,pp

Not to brag but...

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Thu, 25 Aug 2011 14:52:00 +0000

... How did we get SO lucky?

Blessed, more like it. I thank God for these three every day. Nevermind the recession, or the fact that I have not slept past 6am for the last six years. Or the stretch marks. Or the crayon and pencil marks on the sofa and walls. The 2am emergency room huddles are a distant memory when I look at these three.

Ah, how do I love thee (Numero Uno, Monkey boy and La Principessa?)

Let me count the ways.

You are all so alike, yet so different. You feed off each other and make the puzzle complete and perfect. The Trifecta.

You blow my mind (and my eardrums at times). Never mind that, though - hearing is overrated.

Thank you Lord, for these ones! I cannot believe that I got to do this thrice!

loving my 3 musketeers, pp

And just because...

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Mon, 15 Aug 2011 21:54:00 +0000

...She's so sweet! I offer you my gratuitous post of the month. I know, she's adorable.

Introducing 'La Principessa'. She rocks our world and she doesn't even know it. Perfection, I tell ya. Yum. We're SO glad that you're ours!
Sugar n Spice et al, PP

Frenemies, friendships (or lack of therein)...

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Sun, 14 Aug 2011 19:47:00 +0000

I like to be positive. I am a pretty sunny person, overall- just my nature, came by it honestly from my dear Daddy :)). So this will be the last of these kinda posts. But sometimes 'needs must go there'. So here we go.

Frenemies. Sigh. A house came between me and mine. My house. It was like an obsession with her - as long as we lived in this house, she could not, nay would not, visit- we could not be friends.

She resorted to snide comments and subtle (later not so subtle) comparisons and 'oneupmanship(s)'. Like ridiculously expensive private school tuition. We could have our house, but could we afford 20k a year tuition for our kids? If we really cared about our kids, we would sacrifice 'the house' and move back into our two bedroom townhome and make do. After all, that was what she was doing? Never mind that she had a (cramped) closet full of Chanel bags and what not.

My issue was not so much the unsolicited 'advice' on how to apportion my finances, nor the insinuation that she was somehow a better parent, not even my mild irritation with the age-old private vs public debate (my take, private, duh), but that she thought so little of our 'friendship' to let a little envy get in the way.

I mean, we all feel pangs of it - "Aw man, I wish I could...drive that... vacation there...afford that...". But how many of us actually launch a whole campaign around it(lol)? Abandon a friend/friendship, drop off the face of the earth? That's a frenemy right there.

Walk a mile in my shoes, don't beat me over the head with 'em. Dag. I mean, geez...(disclaimer: not my house, lol - MARC train yucky floor!!!)

Well, I mourned the loss of the friendship for all of a minute. that was all it was worth to me. The 'house' thing was her issue, her area of insecurity and once I realised that she was trying to make a pricey kindergarten education mine, we were done. What, so we can't be friends if I don't fit into the little box you created for me in your little mind? Awww, so solly. Must go now. Boo, hiss.

Don't get me wrong - a little friendly competition is great. Not being able to happy for your 'friend'? Not so hot. So adios 'amiga'! Don't let my huge, fancy oak door hit you in the tuckus! :)

Femme du maison :), pp

Public (Enemy) ahem - School

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Wed, 10 Aug 2011 19:26:00 +0000

I am not a snob - far from it, actually. Except for this one thing - a quality education. We can debate this all day long, about if more tuition equals better education and yada yada yada. Of course I realize that it doesn't, but I do know that the test scores and statistics do not lie. And private schools appear to have the upper hand on that one.

Sigh. It is happening to Prada. Numero Uno son is leaving his cocoon of Spanish/yoga/Montessori privateschoolism and entering the big harsh world of public school, riding the bus and lunch rooms. Oh Brother. Now, I wouldn't have that much of problem if this school was highly rated, but on the other hand, I am not freaking out as much because their First grade program and teacher has received best teacher/best program state-wide recognition consistently for years now. So much so that a roll out for First grade in the county is being adopted based on the one this Elementary school already has in place. (This pep-talk is more for me than it is for you, so bear with, please.) Second grade and beyond? Well, keep a-prayin' folks! :)

Ach. The choices we have to make as adults. The guilt that comes with it. Judgments from 'friends' (there is a post in the works on this - watch this space). The emotions - pride at the fact that your baby is growing up, trepidation that he is 'leaving the nest' venturing into this world of six year olds - (they all look so big in comparison!). New faces, new teachers, new parents. New experiences are a cakewalk for me. But I detest the unfamiliar for my baby. Good luck, Numero Uno. It will be well with you. And we're in this together, Prada and her boy.

Le etudiant publique, himself (Disclaimer: Of course this may or may not be real french, i have no idea, quote me at your own risk:))
smooches, PP

The Garden

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Sun, 07 Aug 2011 16:51:00 +0000

Let me tell you a story about a garden. Except it really isn't about the garden (is it ever, really though?) Truthfully, it is more about the gardener, or should I say the relationship between the garden, gardener and 'gardenee '(prada herself). Now, we are getting somewhere. (P.S. Hurray for big pictures. You're welcome.:))

I have a love-hate relationship with my garden/yard/outdoor space. This extends to its caretaker - whom we shall refer to simply as, 'the gardener'. My garden is, at its best, awesome. It is the perfect place for my two little boys (Numero Uno and Monkeyboy) to run around, ride their bikes, plant cherry seeds (that never ever grow), swim, dig up dirt etc etc. I have no problem with that - in fact, this is why I label the garden as 'awesome'. My beef with the garden is that it is unruly, temperamental, home to rabbits and the occasional little snake (when left untended) and this is where the gardener comes in. His task is simply to 'reason with the garden', tame the garden, nurture the garden. (READ: Do whatever garden needs so that we do not dwell in perpetual state of Jumanji.) Is this too much to ask? Apparently so.

So for years, I have tussled with the gardener. Made excuses for him. "Oh, it's too hot", "It's raining", "But he's so honest", "We'll never find a better deal." etc etc etc. Thus round and round we went, an infinity ring of paydays, unmet expectations, payday, attitude and threats to leave, paydays and complete silence from gardener. Even more paydays. Then the realization that I (well it was more like Hubby had had enough and just fired him and hired someone else, but it reads better my way) just had to step out of my comfort zone and embrace change. Familiar doesn't always mean better. Good friends rarely equal good work ethic. Honesty is not efficiency and as cliched as it sounds, 'there's always more fish in the sea'. I know, groan. Enter our new gardeners. Enter Nirvana. I so wish I had a 'before' picture to show you so that you could fully grasp how far we've come, but you should be impressed with just the 'after'.

What's your 'garden'? Who's your 'gardener'? Yes, I'm getting preachy - it's Sunday and Prada just had a 'hallelujah' moment. Thank you, Lord!

And totally off topic - just because it's a great moment captured by my trusty blackberry camera that never captures anything, thanks to its annoying shutter delay thingy. CAPTION THIS, WILL YA PLEASE Somebody!!!

(Mama please may I? I know I can, pleasepleaseplease! Don't say I'm just a baby, I can do it- just put me on one of those bike thingies and I'll be good, promise! Wait for me, Monkeyboy! Numero Uno? Aw man!!!) Just wanna snog them all cause they are so precious- Monkey boy, Numero Uno and Principessa. I know, her proper introduction is coming soon, promise. :)

garden couture anyone?
PP

Hello Blog, it's me, Prada :)

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Wed, 03 Aug 2011 23:22:00 +0000

Monday was a blur. I can barely remember what shoes I wore or what I ate - and for those of you that know me, that is tres big deal. As in my days are pretty much filed away under those two things - I have the summer of the 'over priced (READ:buyers remorse) Tory Burch color-blocked wedges (cough, cough - this summer). The week we had that uh-mazing Pho - yup, that would be this week. And so on and so forth. But Monday was infinitely forgettable, I must say.

My amnesia was probably fueled by a seven day work week and the bone crushing fatigue that comes with the Worker-Mommy-Wife thingy (or WMW as just made up by moi - and yes, i'll be here all week, folks:)). But check this out - I do remember how for 45 minutes or so I whooped it up and pranced around like I hadn't a care in the world with a very special little girl. We did the baby equivalent of swinging from chandeliers, al beit in an extremely bright, primary colored 'crayola-suessish' padded kiddie club enviroment. (Shout out to all the 'My little gyms' out there!)

I drank in her cheeks and sweet smell and bit back my smiles at her ungraceful tumbles, manic crawling spurts and fascination with the mirror. (Already? Oy.)

Like I said, Monday was a bust. Except for this part.

Hug your 'little' today, pp

p.s - I know, I know - proper introduction will be done later. this was just one of those days when my creative smeagol was gonna eat his way out of me if I didn't find on outlet. Hence my first post in like forever.

Push Presents

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Thu, 16 Sep 2010 18:41:00 +0000

Oh, the controversial 'push presents'. Why should women be 'compensated' for having a baby? Isn't the 'gift of a baby' enough for her? What does the father get for his contribution? Yada, Yada, Yada.

I speak from experience as one who has been there and is firmly 'pro- push presents'. Make that, "pro, pro, pro.'

Here are my answers:

Ofcourse, women CAN'T be compensated for having a baby, even though I think they should be, most definitely. Why? Talk to me after you've done it - I doubt this conversation will be necessary then, though.

Nothing can compare to the 'gift of a baby'. Absolutely nothing. That new baby scent alone is worth its weight in gold. But I fail to see what is wrong with getting even more gold. You know, like the real kind.

Does Dad get- No. He's gotten enough, if you know what I mean. So sue me.

Although I am a die hard 'Pradist', I do not recommend turning one's nose up at the Cartier trinity rolling ring - especially the 'les must de cartier' collection. White, Rose and Yellow interlocking rings on one's right hand are just so... chic. Plus, they are so much fun to play with - that is, if your fingers are not still too fat from pregnancy. Ah, the joys. And they come in the fun red Cartier box, which frankly, is quite refreshing after the sea of tiffany blue boxes, don't you think?

And yeah, that is/was my push present/ birthday present/ anniversary present ( repping 3 decades and 3 babies - You do know there is a recession, right? Combo gifts are the ONLY way to go, trust me). Mama Like. :)

All blinged out, pp

p.s Smooches to SnowCone, for your sweet comment. you are the reason I came out of my hiatus! :)

Vintage is SO 2010...

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Wed, 24 Mar 2010 16:44:00 +0000

Books, I mean. Take a look at them beauties, would ya? I was raised on my mother's milk, garri - and Harlequins.
Janet Daily, Charlotte Lamb, Violet Winspear, Betty Neals - you name 'em, we had 'em. Our house was probably better stocked than most small libraries on virtually any topic. With a father who was a voracious reader, a mother who stalked garage sales and bought any book (or anything, for that matter) on any subject and three elder sisters who must have had stock in the Harlequin franchise, I was that chick when it came to these babies.
So to discover them after decades, in mint condition, at 50 cents a piece? I could honestly just cry. Thank you so much, Rosie for remembering. And purchasing. This will jump start my 'good old book' collection that I had been meaning to start.
Je suis une bibliophile... pp

Falling Apart In One Piece

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 14:21:00 +0000

First of all, OMG.

If you are married with the slightest inkling that there is an undercurrent of the slightest 'something is not quite right here', RUN and get this book!

If you are married, with full blown chaos in your home and you think you might be alone, GET THIS BOOK!

If you are married and blissfully happy and want to stay that way, you NEED this book!

If you are unmarried and think you might be getting married at some point to your 'best friend and all that', this book is a must-read.

My point is get this book. Read this book. We can all relate to this book. Married or unmarried. Happy or unhappy. Career mom or stay at home mom. Kids or no kids. Male or female.

If you have ever wondered why marriages don't work out sometimes even between two amazing people, then Stacy Morrison will help you 'get it'. And she does this in the most real, unpreachy, loving way. Without self-pity or cynicism, devoid of finger-pointing or martyrdom, she lets you have her answer (because in the end it is her story, and we each have our own) - which it sometimes it just does not.

And that beyond divorce, there is still life and raising a toddler son and work at the helm of Redbook (a magazine for strong, independent family women, who supposedly 'have it all', whatever that means). So yes, life doesn't just stop just because you got problems. Amen, sister.

What I like most about this book is that it neither glorifies divorce nor puts down marriage. It is just one woman's story to which we can all relate. And it does serve as a wake up call, even attractive, successful women can and do have marital woes. And sometimes there is no 'reason' for a spouses change of heart - no other woman, no financial pressure and not even having a beautiful kid together can save that. And as for couples that never bicker - bravo, but complacency can be a sign of some deeper issue. Or not. But you just never know.

Stacy Morrison's voice is imbued with grace and matter of factness, but I still choked up in certain parts at the honesty and simplicity of her story. Think 'Eat, Pray, Love' meets 'The Devil wears Prada'. You know I'm a fan for life now.

Brava, pp

Fashionphile & going green

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 13:19:00 +0000

Where hast thou been all my life? I need to know so that I can make sense of all the wasted years and dollars that my thirst for fashion has produced.

I shop. Alot. I have. Alot. Of clothes. And guilt, naturally. So I assuage my guilt in two ways: a) telling myself that my mandatory once a year purchase of Tory Burch flats and Ugg boots are investments in classics, since I do keep my clothes forever. I mean I do, really, and I can afford to because they are made so well, and I have, well, alot. I also 'give back' - by this I mean I purge my closets ever so often and sell anything I have not worn in a while on eBay, craigslist, facebook.

But if you have ever sold anything on ebay, you know the hell it can sometimes be. people seriously want a real Louis Vuitton for $50. I know it's a buyers market, but um.. yeah, no.

Which is why Fashionphile is my new best friend. They have gently used (really gently used) designer bags and accessories for less than you will find and the better quality than you will find on eBay - with all the worries about authentication safely out of the way. And get this - they also will sell your gently used designer stuff for a price that is not insulting and you get to make some other fashion-obsessed person's day. Now if that's not the most fabulous way to 'go green', I don't know what is.

I'm baaaaaack!

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 17:00:00 +0000

After a one year hiatus. Well, a little over a year, if you want to get all technical with it. What happened to me? Well, let's just say that life conspired against my blog. First computer issues, then camera issues, then monkey-boy and Numero uno son issues (remember them?). Yeah, well just life. But I am back. For real. And to start things off on an upbeat note, I will give myself an award. Cause it's all about moi. The award for 'the crappiest mom' goes to... yours truly! Why? Read on, please.
I am always impeccably dressed. Always. As in my hubby has been known to tease me about it. 'in life there are two certainties, death and Prada Principal having the perfect outfit to wear.' And I extend the same ferocious attention to detail to my boys dressing as well. But like I intimated, life had been 'happening' and I delegated this to Nanny dearest since she seemed to know how to throw things together. Seemed to. Uh huh. Why do I get to Numero Uno's school last week Friday and see him rocking this G.I Joe pajama top, blue jeans and sneakers? I mean, I just about died. As if it wasn't bad enough, the top was slightly snug from being left in the dryer too long, you know what I mean. Just. Not. Right.
Suffice it to say we were out of there in a flash, and I am not sure I can ever show my face there again. Make me feel better, share your 'bad mommy' moments. Pleeeeaaaasssseee!
Yours in 'fashion faux pasdom'

Oh the woes...

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 21:41:00 +0000

Like a shorn sheep...

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Wed, 11 Feb 2009 17:26:00 +0000

...all fragile and skinny, timid - being led back from its (annual?) shearing. Was MonkeyBoy, my petit bebe, sadly, bebe no more. I always feel that baby's first hair cut is almost akin to a 'mini-manhood' ritual. In some cultures they wrap their prepubescent young men in a sheepskin and feed them with a bottle for a day or so (no kidding). The boys in turn communicate with grunts and squeaks just like a baby, right before they circumcise them. I know, ouch. But thank God MB's was just a haircut. But I still got that choked up feeling and I still took pictures and grabbed a fistful of his kinky crop to remember. you know the good old days, when he was not such a 'mini boy'. Sheesh! Mama getting old, yo!

In closing, there is nothing like a pair of sunglasses to get you feeling dapper again. Very 'Nicole Richie', darling...

mother of li'l men, pp

MonkeyBoy turns One!

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Thu, 29 Jan 2009 17:42:00 +0000

Where does the time go, eh? That gurgling, tiny, almost translucent looking primate is one and big and into everything and in LIVING COLOR! Truly God has been gracious to me and mine.

We had a rollicking good time, with a traditional 'good old days' birthday party, in the basement, with balloons, cake and kids music blasted from the home stereo system. Sans the kiddie entertainer and face painter, it could have been 1984 again!

I just love to share my ideas and new finds, so here goes:

I am on a 'personalized' kick this year, cos it just makes it all the more personal, right :)? So I did the custom m&ms from mymms.com. I had always wanted to try them and it was the perfect opportunity - not for myself per se( too egocentric), you can pick your own colors and write whatever you want on it and - get this - upload photos to put a face on them!!! Now how cool is that? I know!!!! I am still in awe of this phenomenon - the personalized m&m.

As we all know, your party is only as good as the entertainment. For Numero Uno son's first, I had the most awesome magician/comedian/balloon artist, which was great for the older kids, but hardly registered with my son, as he was all of one. so this year I opted for a 'Gymboree' style person who could coordinate games, songs and activities for all ages. it turns out Ms Ann Goodman of 'Parties for Toddlers' was the best investment ever. I mean, who wants to be organising musical chairs and hosting their own puppet show on their sons birthday, when there are a million and one other things to do? She was so good, I joined in the fun myself! 'The wheels on the bus go..." Whoo hooo!

And there is Amy Tam - yes, almost like the brilliant writer, just swap an 'm' for an 'n' and face painting for writing. She is an artisan - that is the is the only way to describe the creativity this lady possesses and the lightening like speed with which she does all this, without sacrificing the beauty of her work is a plus. With squirming babies and temperamental toddlers, I crown her genius saint of birthday parties and all events. Of course I got my face painted. Like, hello?

So, oh yeah, happy birthday Monkeyboy. Cake is awesome, right?

party animal extraordinaire, pp

Belle of the ball

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 20:21:00 +0000

I went to an inaugural ball. An unofficial inaugural ball, but a ball all the same. It just felt good to be out and about, in the moment, part of the electric energy that was Washington D.C that night. And waht a great night it was. Cold though - which is why though resplendent in my Vera Wang silk and chiffon dress, I accessorized with black thermal leggings. Terribly unchic, I know, but muy, muy smart, if I do say so myself. And I do.

p.s guess the celebrity in the photo with me?

Love ya, pp

The Gifts for Less...

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 18:28:00 +0000

It would be remiss of me not to share these wonderful budget friendly yet extremely elegant and useful gifts that I found and gave out last year for Christmas.

These bone china geese measuring cups and giraffe measuring spoons are the cutest things I have ever seen. Perfect for my eldest sister who has Martha Stewart beat, in my opinion. They were so adorable that I even ordered a set for myself - and I cannot bake to save my life! Now they hold pride of place, gliding behind the windows of my kitchen cabinets. But they are so cool that I would totally move them to my living room in a heartbeat, and they are perfect for laying out nuts and candy etc for guests.Then there are these fantastic little soap/china soap dish gift sets with monogrammed initials of your choice, in yummy scents like bergamot and vanilla coconut, lilies and freesia. Everything from the gorgeous packaging (that is so 'tiny yet chic Parisian boutique find') to the china soap dish that seems more fine china dessert plate than soap dish, to the scents is do die for. You'll want one in every scent, regardless of initial. Perfect for your powder room and yet too fabulous for words, I tell you.

A tip: when in doubt give something monogrammed, for in truth who doesn't love seeing their name in print? It is really flattering and personal and always takes whatever the gift is a notch. Enter these exquisite monogrammed note cards. The perfect little boxed gift, on perfect paper, for the perfect price! All from anthropologie.

Bisous, pp

If you could walk in my Uggs...

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Sat, 17 Jan 2009 12:10:00 +0000

You would know how in awe I am of this wonderful God, our creator, who formed me and my little boys in utero and pronounced us, good to go. And wonderfully and fearfully made. And beautiful and perfect. This God who knows our end from our beginning, who calls us by name knew that the day would come when I would- frustrated, at the end of my pregnancy, start this here blog - and continue the blog after the birth of my little 'monkey boy' and said 'monkey boy' would have eight sharp teeth and smiles and hair for days, plus a truly engaging personality and that he would turn one and he would along with his brother, be my pride and joy.

So thank you God Almighty. And thank you readers of this blog. And Happy One year anniversary to us. And please God let Monkey Boy be walking by his birthday - I don't know why it bugs me that he's not, but it does.

eternally grateful to God, pp

Red, black, hint of or ombre?

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Fri, 16 Jan 2009 19:33:00 +0000

This is the most perplexing matter I am facing these days. Living in 'Obamaland', we are right in the thick of things and since everyone and their cousin is throwing a'ball', you can be sure that we got invited to a couple. Now that all the election stuff is behind us, we move on to more serious matters, like 'what should I wear to the inaugural ball?' It is of course, black tie - so I figure that most of the ladies will be in floor length, black gowns? And why not? Black is slimming, black is elegant, black always looks expensive. Black is thine friend. Obvious choice for me was red, as I like how it goes with my skin tone, but every red dress I found was just not me. So I narrowed it down to three choices, Black one shouldered dress - I would've totally worn this one if they had red in my size - (Katherine Heigl at the emmys, except in red), Black Vera Wang strapless with a blue belt, for that hint of color to separate it from the sea of black out there, and an ombre ABS strapless dress that I have lusted after every since I saw Angelina Jolie look absolutely gorgeous in one on the red carpet. I soon nixed that one as, let's face it, she is after all, Angelina Jolie. I may have a copy of the dress, but a copy of the face and body? Exactly. Come to think of it, she was at least 8 months pregnant when she wore it and it does read a little too boho for sedate Washington D.C. In a nutshell, I cannot pull it off. Then there is the gorgeous BCBG brocade silk halter dress, which is so gorgeous, but I am kinda over halternecks at this point. It goes wonderfully with my skin, but has a hint of Bollywood to it. You know, all saris and spices - which I am not sure is totally the best thing for this 'high fallutin' ball thingy. For now, it's between the Vera and BCBG, the husband shall get the final say. Just as long as his final say is in line with my final say. :-) P.S Bluefly doth Rock, as always.

we be ballin', pp

It ain't over till the stuffed sheep 'baas'...

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Wed, 07 Jan 2009 22:31:00 +0000

...Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! I have been on a hiatus and I have missed you. but I have been enjoying the holiday season with my little men, and I tell you what, Christmas from their wee perspectives is all too special. The highlight of the season for Monkey Boy was the Christmas tree lights and for Numero Uno son - the plugging in the lights into the socket - which of course, he was forbidden to do, but did with aplomb, anyway.

But both of them just adored the singing (or rather 'baaing') stuffed sheep ornament I bought from Target years ago, for Numero Uno son's first Christmas. You press his stomach and he baas 'We wish you a merry Christmas.' So of course we would sojourn to the tree at least twice a day and listen to him, baaing encore after encore while the boys rocked out. And I do mean MAJOR dancing - until weary, I was able to drag them away. And after it all - get this- Monkey Boy would actually say 'Yay!' and clap his chubby little hands. A standing ovation for the singing sheep! I can take it, the cuteness of those boys. Now those are the memories holidays are made of.

Mazeltov! pp

Ear Bling

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 14:55:00 +0000

She didn't call me high maintenance, but I know she was definitely thinking it. I recently upgraded my old I-pod earphones to these 'Shugabuds Swarovski Earphones'. You know, the earphones with all the 'bling'. I think I deserve a little credit for choosing the most sedate color - all white, as opposed to say - pink (I was tempted though) or iridescent rainbow (yeah, um - no thanks.) But someone saw them and laughed and said 'Only you PP, only you..." I wasn't offended, but it did make me go, Hmmm. Do I come across as high maintenance? Because I really, truly am not. Am I a bit of a 'princess'? Well, yeah. And unabashedly so. Do I like nice things? Absolutement. Do I indulge myself on occasion? Yeeeessss. Okay, so I'm high maintenance. Deal with it. :-)

Primpin' and Preenin', pp

"Those Neighbors"

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 19:03:00 +0000

You know the ones. With the kaleidoscope of Christmas lights all over their house and front yard, trees and shrubs the minute Thanksgiving dinner has been eaten. They have a wreath in every window and have even brazenly flung open their curtains ALL day and ALL night so that you can see their overly (ahem) accessorized tree.

Well, we have become one of them. I am not yet down with the blown up Santa and pulsating Rudolph(s) in the front yard, but we are in the realm of almost 'slightly ridiculous'. But I kinda like it. I think.

I even got a new ornament for the tree! Yes, Starbucks doth rock this chick's world. For long time. p.s. No that's not my house. (Nor is it my neighbors', thank God.)

Jingle Bellz, pp

Life Does Not Stop...

noreply@blogger.com (PradaPrincipal) — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 22:38:00 +0000

...Just because you are having a bad day. It does not pause to give you a moment to grieve or to be sad - hey, you're lucky to find time to breathe, you know? This is especially true if you are a wife and mom. There are noses to be cleaned, bums to be wiped, (I know, ew) husbands to be loved. Life does not care.

It's raining in your world today? Oh, what a pity - but are you done with that client file I asked you to work on two minutes ago? More important, is it PERFECT? It's raining, you say? Well don the wellies and keep sloshing through. You know Life is. You have killer cramps and a terrible migraine? I'm so sorr- hey, can you emcee at this gala tonight? Nordstrom is having a SALE, girl!

You don't get it, do you? Life 'don't play.' So put on your big girl drawers and deal.

But when I look at those two, I am still grateful that even if my world is rocked, theirs is Rock Solid. Thank you Jesus.

Ever grateful, pp