work it...

When in a dressing room, there are some surefire ways to tell if a girl likes what she is trying on. For one thing, every girl has a mirror face (some even have a full-body stance). The face can be made not just when she likes a potential purchase, but also when deciding whether or not it's a winner, though.

However, it holds steadfast that if she comes out of the dressing room to look in the mirror and begins to dance to the music playing in the store, she undoubtedly likes it.

When shopping with Katie this weekend, we saw it happen firsthand.

The girl, most likely in her mid- to late-twenties had been in the dressing room for quite some time. She'd emerged in outfit after outfit, modeling for her posse, which included her mom (it was definitely her mom) and potentially two aunts and a grandma (Whether they were truly blood related, it's hard to say. However, they behaved like relatives).

With each outfit, she'd make her face in the mirror, then stand and wait for her mom to tell her what to do. There were a few winners and a few losers among the bunch. However, when she walked out in a brown and white striped dress, looked in the mirror (face in effect) and smiled, I knew she was feeling the ensemble. She quickly turned to her mother and awaited her response, bright-eyed and full of hope. After her mom smiled and gave the dress her blessing, the girl turned back to the mirror. Immediately, as if on cue, she began to dance. She was feeling food. She was definitely buying it.

And, although there were other dresses among the group that I would have chosen over the interestingly striped getup, the fact that she was feeling oh-so-good, made me like it a little bit more. The fact that when she looked in the mirror, she thought "Oh ya, I'm hot. I'm going to dance in this extra-crowded store, in my tax-free dress (ya holidays) and shake it. I don't care if I don't know anyone. That's how good I feel."

And you know what? Since she felt that good, she nearly convinced me she looked that good.

Mind over matter, baby.

Girls just want to have fun

When I went to college freshman year, my new friends would joke that all of my friends from senior year were blond. I don't think I purposely discriminated against fellow brunettes, but I guess I thought that I needed to surround myself with blonds, just in case they really did have more fun.

It seems, though, that I should have been seeking out brunettes. Apparently, we're the ones who have more fun...especially on payday.

A recent study revealed that brunettes are more successful in work and love (Brunettes make about $6634 more than blonds per year). So basically, when payday rolls around, brunettes are more likely to enjoy a little shopping trip...and treat their man to a nice dinner.

Luckily, this weekend, everyone will enjoy a little extra cash, as it's a tax free holiday in Georgia. I personally find this to be a fabulous idea. I didn't realize all the things I needed, until I discovered so many of them were tax free. What an ingenious way to stimulate the economy.

When my roommate, Emily, found out it was a tax free weekend, she decided she had to take care of something she'd been putting off. It was time to buy the Kate Spade wallet she'd been eying for so long.

Unfortunately, when she arrived at the cash register, she was informed that the wallet did not qualify for the theme of the holiday: back to school basics.

Personally, I'm on Emily's side. You need a wallet at school, especially in college. I definitely think it should have been tax free. However, the Georgia government begs to disagree.

Already rung up at the register and having dreamt of it all day, she went ahead and bought it. Now, Emily and Kate Spade are happy and the economy is one step closer to revival: she just bought the luxury items we've been neglecting. (I only wish Starbucks qualified as back to school. I mean, study at Starbucks...)

I can't help but wonder if it was a blond or brunette who came up with such a wonderful holiday...or maybe it was a redhead. We can't neglect our redheaded friends. I mean, they may not have as much fun as brunettes, but as far as I can tell, they're still a pretty good time.

cars vs. crayons

I'm pretty experienced with crayons. Over the years, I've colored with the best of them-the best being in the seven to nine-year-old age range. Eight year olds are at the point where a whole lot of love still goes into each picture they make and yet, they've truly mastered staying in the lines.

This morning, though, I colored with Elizabeth, who just turned three last week. I'd really forgotten what it was like to color with such a newbie.It went like this: She chose both of our pictures and we began to color. I'd stay in the lines with my 20+ years of experience (not to brag) while she scribbled all over the entire paper. After about one minute, she'd look at my paper and decide she actually wanted mine instead. So, we'd switch. We continued down this path for quite a while, until Elizabeth decided that the papers had been exchanged enough.

It was time to start switching crayons. So, again the cycle began. I'd pick up a blue crayon and she'd pick up a green. After watching me color for a good ten seconds, she'd put the green down and take the blue from me.

I tested the consistency of the process at one point with a black crayon. After she took the original black away from me, I picked up another one.

It was just as I suspected, she took the crayon immediately and put the old black one back on the table.

I'd imagine this game could have entertained her for a long time, however, we were sadly interrupted by sirens and a loud noise hovering overhead.

Elizabeth and I soon discovered that we had front row seats to a high-speed police chase. The chase, involving over ten police officers and a helicopter ended just two streets away from our coloring extravaganza.

As I was sitting there with my crayons, watching the updates on Fox, I realized that this situation epitomizes the difference between boys are girls. Boys would have been running outside watching the cars fly by and the helicopter circle. Elizabeth and I locked the door (just in case) and went back to the crayons. Why would we worry about a car's horsepower when we could color horses?

20/20

As I sat in the eye doctor's office yesterday after hours, I found myself in an all-too-familiar situation.

He was stumped.

As I sat there, tapping my foot and willing myself not to cry (my eye was tearing- they weren't tears!) while he muttered under his breath that he just didn't know, I experienced flashbacks.

...To Dr. Patel telling me that my foot problems were caused by the fact that, "My feet just weren't made for running." (a month before the Chicago Marathon)

...Or the time that the gastro-guy told me that regardless of the extensive list of problems I was experiencing, "There's nothing wrong with you!!" (as if this was supposed to be reassuring)

But yesterday, because the eye doctor was just so sweet, I felt sad for him. How frustrating must that be to sit there and realize that regardless of all those years of schooling and practicing you still couldn't fix everyone's problems? His brain was probably reeling with thoughts of being out-dated and too old to be able to do it all...

It would be like telling an NFL player that it's OK if he can't really catch anymore, because he's still really quick.

Or telling a pilot that it's OK if he doesn't understand how to fly airplanes made after 2005 because he's still got the preceding years under his belt.

Or telling Barbie that even though she's going gray, she's still America's favorite blond (this might be a stretch).

I'd imagine the frustration my doctor felt must be how these experts must be feeling. They realize that there must be some sort of correlation, and yet, they can't quite place it. They just can't quite figure it out.

While I wait for the eye doctor to find a solution, I will commiserate with the concerned triathletes. It makes me feel better if I think about the fact that my eye-ache is just too advanced for doctors today. I'm bettering medicine by making them dig deeper. Well, this is just the way I see it...but let's be honest, my vision is a little shady as I only have one perfect eye.