Sample Sale: Happy Irish Stereotype Day

I live in an Irish neighborhood, I lived in THE Irish neighborhood, I've been to Ireland 4 times, and unless you're offering me free corned beef and cabbage, I'm frankly uninterested in St. Patrick's Day. I'm old and jaded! I'm post-debauchery!

But I still love Ireland, so here's a bunch of stuff that made me think fondly of my time there.

Rose Garden Color Story Dress (ModCloth, $37.99 from $54.99) Love the pink/green contrast. This is a great dress for frolicking outside on the first warm day of spring.

Waterfall Sequin Tank (eloquii, $22.99 from $45) Shiny, green, SHINY.

Crochet Lace Earrings (ShopBop, $75.60 from $108) I think these are on sale because they're kind of gigantic, but whatever. I love the idea of wearing doilies on my ears.

Short Sleeve Mini Dress (Tulle, $56.00 from $80) Um, this is one is for clubbing in Ireland? Actually, it makes me wish I was 22 again so I could wear it to impress the Irish boy with whom I had an ambiguous relationship. Buy this, go dancing, kiss someone random, and think of me, okay?

the Bobbie Oxford  (Madewell, $124.99 from $165) My friend Kate told me to make a Lord of the Dance joke for these, but the truth is I just really, really want them for myself.

Good Luck Charm Bracelet (Madewell, $21.99 from $29.50) Sweet without being kitschy.

Cap's Shield (Think Geek, $13.99 from $19.99) Because Steve Rogers' parents in the comics were Irish immigrants. /nerd

Utopia Devil/Angel Teapot (Jonathan Adler, $66 from $110) First thing I learned in Ireland: Take The Tea. The first thing you will be offered in an Irish home is tea, and if you decline it will be re-offered every ten minutes until you finally agree to a cup Irish hosts are not comfortable until you have a cup of tea in front of you, so just take it the first time.

Pug Stopper (Z Gallerie, $9.99 from $14.95) Ha ha, the Irish are drunks! Ha ha ha. Ha.

Whiskey Stones (Think Geek, $19.99, Buy one Get one 50% off) Ok, for real though, they do make great whiskey. This was the only deal I could find on something whiskey-related, and I guess it's a good one if you're the type of person who has whiskey-drinking parties. Are you that type of person? We should be friends.

Eleven Women You Should Know About

WWII Special Ops badass Nancy Wake has no patience for that French shit.

International Women's Day was last Friday. In celebration I dipped into the bookmark folder I call "Awesome Ladies" and tweeted links to almost a dozen Women of Badassery. (I have the folder because I have a secret dream of writing a series of blockbuster movies about real-life ladies who make the Avengers look junior varsity.)

Someone asked me to put all the links together, so here they are:

Ching Shih, the most successful pirate of all time, male or female, in that not only did she wreak havoc and strike fear into the hearts of millions, she also successfully retired and died in her bed instead of hanging from a noose. (Badass of the Week)

Sayyida al Hurra, Muslim pirate queen, who turned to piracy as an Eff You to the Europeans who had overtaken her home in Granada. (Amazing Women in History)

Hazel Ying Lee, Asian-American, WWII WASP pilot. (Wikipedia) (Discovered via Kelly Sue DeConnick's tumblr, which often features interesting links to women warriors.)

Lumberjills! Yeah that's right: lady lumberjacks. During WWII, the British Women's Timber Corps did everything the 'jacks did, but with cuter head scarves. (Long May She Rain)

Mary Kingsley, who explored and wrote about the West African coast on her own during the Victorian era. (The chief end of life)

Florence Dixie, another Victorian, who traveled to Patagonia and South Africa and wrote about her adventures, and spent her time at home agitating for women's suffrage and Irish home rule. (Wikipedia)

Mary Anning, who found and cataloged dinosaur fossils in England during the early 19th century. (Lyme Regis Museum)

Emmy Noether, a pioneering mathematician who contributed advances to abstract algebra and theoretical physics and became one of the world's first female math professors. (Wikipedia)

Nancy Wake I'm just gonna quote the wiki for this one: On the night of 29–30 April 1944, Wake was parachuted into the Auvergne, becoming a liaison between London and the local maquis group headed by Captain Henri Tardivat in the Forest of Tronçais. Upon discovering her tangled in a tree, Captain Tardivat greeted her remarking, "I hope that all the trees in France bear such beautiful fruit this year," to which she replied, "Don't give me that French shit.”" (Wikipedia)

Hatshepsut, who ruled ancient Egypt as pharaoh (oh pharaohs have to have a certain beard, seeing as how they're supposed to be men? Wooden beard! Problem solved.) (Lapham's Quarterly)

And finally, an ancient, anonymous Siberian princess, whose gorgeous, intricate tattoos provide a visual link between past and present. (Siberian Times)

So that's pirates, pilots, lumberjills, explorers, writers, a fossil hunter, a mathematician, a spy, a queen, and a Siberian. Go Team Women.

Sample Sale: Spring Is Springing

It's snowing in Boston right now, but they tell me Spring is coming. The extra hour of daylight this weekend should help to convince me. In the meantime, here are some products to artificially brighten your day.

Simple Garden (A+R, $15 from $30)
My problem with a lot of garden kits is that they just give you the seeds, or the seeds and the pot, and you have to figure out how to actually grow stuff, which is the hard part. This kit gives you everything from a How To booklet to the dirt--sorry "organic sustainable planting medium."

Drifted bobby pin set (Anthropologie, $9.95 from $24)
Excellent if you're growing your bangs out or, like me, always have that one damn strand of hair that won't stay in the pony tail.

Red Tulip Planter (Furbish, $12 from $24)
If the Simple Garden works out, grow some tulips in here. If you kill the tomatoes in two weeks, just fill it with candy.

Blue Bird Organic T-shirt (abc Carpet & Home, $19 from $45)
For any Spring baby showers to which you're invited. I could never bring myself to splurge on hand-crafted baby items, but boy did I love getting them as gifts.

Garden of Eden lace dress (Free People, $69.95 from $128)
A little twee on its own, but the right accessories could make it edgy and fun. Or wear it as is to your family's annual egg hunt.

Teo Camisole (Rag & Bone, $76.50 from $255)
Dear ladies who do not need bras: Please buy this and wear it for me and all the other droopy ladies out there Because that back is dead sexy and we'd like to live vicariously through your hotness.

Open Ladybug bangle (Emily Elizabeth Jewelry, $50 from $65)
There was one unseasonably warm fall when I was in college and thousands of ladybugs hatched late. About a dozen of them snuck into my dorm room and kept me company. It was wonderful. They're pretty, they don't bite, and they eat more destructive bugs. Buy this bracelet and feel positive about insects.

Pig Butter Dish (Jonathan Adler, $34 from $68)
OK, its connection to spring is tenuous at best. But look, SO CUTE!

Carved White Quartz Cocktail Ring (Wendy Mink, $40 from $195)
I love me a cocktail ring, and not just for cocktails. They're great for kicking up an everyday outfit. ALL of Wendy Mink's classic cocktail rings are just $40 until 3/11.

Sample Sale

The lovely Jane Marie used to do these sale posts every Friday at the Hairpin. I thought I'd try my hand at it this week. It's harder than you'd think! Leave your bargains in the comments and happy Friday everyone.

Peacock eyelashes, Sephora ($9 from $19) I own these and have worn them in public. They are insane and ridiculously fun.

Vintage collar top, Eshakti ($41.95 from $59.95) Because it's covered in butterflies! Pair with this skirt to complete the look.

Losana Ring, Nettie Kent Jewelry ($60) Cute, classy, and made by one of my high school classmates.

Squirrel Kit, Paper Source ($4.98 from $9.95) Sure, why not? Your cat probably needs the target practice

Marvel House of M sale, Comixology ($.99 from $1.99) In which the Scarlett Witch magics into being a universe where almost no one has superpowers or mutations. I haven't read it yet so I can't say much beyond that, but I've heard good things about it.

She-Ra Babydoll, Think Geek ($12.99 from $21.99) Because She-Ra, duh.

Gift Trimmed Pumps, Anthropologie  ($9.95 from $168) Wait, REALLY? Someone needs to order these and find out if that price is legit.

Dizzy Petals Corkscrew, Anthropologie  ($14.95 from $28) That is way classier looking than the corkscrew you have now, right?

Finally, are you ready to think about bathing suits? Land's End has a big overstock collection, and they make high-quality suits in a large variety of styles/sizes. I honestly haven't bought a bathing suit from anywhere else since I was a teenager.

Self-promotion

So Marvel is doing a collaboration with Vans sneakers, which is awesome...except there are zero female characters on any of the shoes. As the proud owner of Wonder Woman Converse All-Stars, I think this is bullshit. (Side note: They have Batgirl, Catwoman, and Poison Ivy too! Wow, DC did something right. I have to pause for a minute to process that.)

Anyway, Marvel's marketing misogyny is my business opportunity. I make decoupage shoes from comic books. I also make boots:

And purses:

So, if you would like your favorite comic lady (or anyone/anything, really!) on an accessory of your choice, leave me a comment or ping me on Twitter.

Details:

I have a wonderful thrift shop near my house that keeps me in cute, cheap purses and wallets, so if you're interested in one of those, I can send you pictures of what I have on hand.

For shoes (and if you have a purse of your own you'd like to use), I ask that you send me a pair. You can either send me the comics/materials for the decoupage or tell me what you're looking for and let me track it down.

Prices:

Wallet: $30
Shoes/Purse: $50
Boots: $80

Important Note: Decoupage leaves shoes/purses pretty stiff and prone to cracking with repeated use, so none of these are great for everyday use. But they're excellent special occasion conversation pieces!

My Wayward Youth

It's my birthday! I'm 35. I don't generally fuss over my age and encroaching decrepitude, but I must admit: it hurt a little to type that number. My husband took me to Menton and Drink as a combination birthday/Christmas/wedding anniversary gift. (That's one good thing about packing all your big life events into one month: Outrageously expensive celebrations become more justifiable.) I'll write about that experience later, but today I'm sharing a story that, despite us being together for a decade, I had somehow never told Jay until Saturday night.

For a brief period in the early 2000s, my life would have made an excellent a secondhand-embarrassment-inducing HBO coming-of-age series. My college roommates lived in New York and I'd fly down on the Delta shuttle on Friday nights for weekends with them. This was shortly after 9/11 and standing at the gate watching 100 girls dressed for a night out in NYC taking off their boots and jewelry never got any less surreal. (They used to frisk us at security and then again before we got on the plane.)

My friend T had a "worldly" older boyfriend (you know, worldly to 23-year-old me. Just a blowhard jackass to 35-year-old me.) who took her to burlesque shows. T being the kind of girl who can talk a dog off a meat wagon, she promptly became besties with the performers. She was friends with one in  particular and we would go see her perform when I was in town.

On one such night, it was about 2am and I was uttering the words, "I probably shouldn't have had that seventh martini" (Not real martinis. Probably cosmos or something. Oy.) when T passed out on my shoulder. That was our cue to leave, so I got her legs under her, swept our stuff off the table and into my bag, threw T into a taxi, and tried to stay conscious enough to ensure that our taxi driver didn't take us on the Drunk Girls Tour of New York before bringing us home.

Then there was dragging T up the stairs, figuring out which key went in which lock, and announcing to the door that this was probably not a good way to be living my life, followed by getting T undressed, getting myself undressed, and passing out on the couch.

In the morning, over a half gallon of orange juice, I opened my purse to make sure I hadn't drunk-dialed anyone. A pile of crumpled, damp one dollar bills exploded out. I was confused because I thought we'd given the dancers all of our cash, so I started to count it. About halfway through I put my head down on the floor and started to laugh because this was clearly not my money.

I woke T up by dropping the wet money on her (because that seemed totally reasonable at the time) and saying, "Why do I have $40 worth of ones in my purse?" She had told the guys standing next to us that they could leave their money on our table. Yes: I had stolen their stripper money. I had an attack of conscience and said, "I can't keep this! You need to give it to Anna the next time you see her."

T was like, "Well, she'd probably feel a little weird about me just handing her a pile of cash. I'll give it to all the dancers the next time I see them."

"Okay. Because, really, stealing from frat boys, okay, whatever, but stealing from our professionally naked friends: not cool."

Well, that was the gist of the conversation anyway. In case you're wondering, T and I both have daughters now. They will never, ever hear that story. Nor will they be allowed out of the house until they're 30.

Why I Will Never Do NaNoWriMo

To write a novel you need coffee, a computer, pens, paper, and...a Viking hat?

Every couple of years I decide I'm going to do National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). The idea is that you write 50,000 words in 30 days because, um, you can? I've actually never paid much attention into the whole "unleash your creativity!" narrative behind the whole thing. I write for money, which usually means keeping my creativity pretty well leashed.

I try it every couple of years instead of every year because I fail miserably, remember my failure the next year, then forget about it the year after that and try again. So here is a list of why NaNo never works for me, to be read by me in 2014:

1. Daylight Savings. Suddenly it's the middle of the night at 4:30 p.m. and hibernation seems like a valid life choice.

2. Illness. At least seven days of every November will be devoted to sniffling on the couch in my bathrobe, sitting on the couch with a sniffling, bathrobe'd Baby Razor, and/or poking the prone form of Mr. Razor while telling him that no, that sniffle is NOT going to kill him.

3. Thanksgiving. Perhaps this holiday is not a drama-bomb for you and yours. Be sure to give thanks for that next Thursday, because my family is still feuding over who's hosting.

4. Christmas. Between Baby Razor and her seven cousins, trying to find something that they like/don't already have/won't cost me a kidney is a part-time job.

5. Alcohol. Look, there are a lot of seasonal beers and I feel like it's my job as a knowledgable drinker to try as many of them as possible, okay?

6. Parenthod. Even after three years, I continually underestimate the effort of stay-at-home parenting. This is an old example, but the current ones range from unfunny to depressing, so here you go:

When Baby Razor was about two-years-old, I got a big freelance project and was debating whether I could do it while taking care of her or if I needed a babysitter. One day I was sitting in the basement working on the project while she happily played by herself and I thought, "Oh yeah, I can totally work and mom at the same time." Then I looked up. My daughter had a) found a pile of cat puke I'd overlooked and b) shoved it in her mouth.

I got a babysitter.

7. I Might Not Want to Write A Novel. I know, that one should probably be at the top of the list. Aren't all writers supposed to want to write a novel, though? I'm starting to wonder. Because it turns out I actually enjoy having other people tell me what to write about, whether it's Etruscan relics or ovarian cancer surgery. I like the resulting checks too. Fifty thousand words and no check? That's just a crappy cost-benefit ratio.

Anyway, my NaNo non-novel was going to be about a 19-year-old starlet in Hollywood having lots of sex and getting really famous. If the fact that I couldn't motivate myself to write about sex and gossip isn't enough proof that I'm never going to be a novelist, I don't know what is.

p.s. I was inspired to try again this year by The Hairpin's Nicole Cliffe, whose novel is going about as well as mine.

Drive

I am way better than this.

I failed my driver's test as a teenager after turning a three-point-turn into a five-point-turn, failing to back up 50 feet without drifting into the center of the road, and, um, nearly hitting a jogger. (In my defense: that jogger came out of nowhere.)

I cried for 45 minutes and made my mother take me to Dairy Queen for a sundae before going back to school for the rest of the day. I still feel like this was a perfectly reasonable response.

I passed on my second try a few months later, drove around Martha's Vineyard for two years, then took a 15-year hiatus upon moving to Boston. Believe it or not, public transportation around here used to be pretty reliable. But between the fare hikes, the busses on the schedule that don't exist in real life, and Baby Razor's short temper, I realized it was finally time for me to get back behind the wheel.

Fun fact: If you've kept up your license, you can just get in the car and go, even if Bill Clinton was president the last time you started an engine.

The thing that surprised me the most was how comfortable I felt, even with Baby Razor in the backseat yelling, "Why you sitting in Daddy's seat? Don't sit in Daddy's seat!" (Another good reason to drive: gender equity.) I was like, "I thought this was hard? Why?" Well, between my undiagnosed-at-the-time anxiety disorder and Martha's Vineyard's complete lack of signage and traffic lights, 16-year-old me thinks 34-year-old me can suck it.

Plus I always had the crippling fear that I was the worst driver on the road, which is a nightmare for a perfectionist like me. Boston has cured that fear. I am nowhere near the worst driver on the road. I don't talk on the phone or text, my eyesight is fine, I use turn signals, and I don't treat a double yellow line like a slalom course.

What I've learned so far is that most of my Driver's Education was totally useless. In the real world, no one cares if your turn is 3-point or 5-point. You never have to back up 50 yards. And joggers have sidewalks in the city. Also: people only remember how to parallel park until the moment they're given their license, at which point everyone reverts to being horrible at it and avoiding parallel parking spaces at all costs.

There is really only one rule: Don't Hit Anything. My visual-spacial skills are sketchy at best, so I was worried about this, but age, wisdom, and a healthy sense of "This car is expensive so don't fuck it up" have served me well so far. Okay, I've jumped two curbs, but I think that was just a bad morning.

NY ComicCon, Quickly

I have an actual wrap-up post going up on Paper Droids soon (ETA: Here it is!), so this is just the goofy shit more appropriate for a blog I haven't managed to update since June.

Adorable ladies. They even had rebel alliance earrings.

So Mel, Jane, Amanda, and I hit New York ComicCon last weekend. Thoughts and impressions:

1) So. Fucking. Crowded. You know that feeling when you're hemmed in on all sides by people pushing you in multiple directions and you know that if something goes wrong, you're getting trampled to death? I got to experience that MULTIPLE TIMES. I realize that cons are always going to be chaotic, but there was zero crowd management and it was occasionally terrifying.

2) Clueless con staff. Dear organizers, Please give your volunteers maps, schedules, and lessons on how to ask people to form a line. Sincerely, everyone.

3) Numbers 1 and 2 led Mel to say something I never thought I'd hear: "I miss San Diego." Yup, it made SDCC's chaos look like a model of planning and organization.

4) Okay, when we weren't waiting half an hour to pee, we did have lots of fun. I met Sir Terry Pratchett! And, predictably, I went totally blank and was like, "Hi. Hello. Hi." But he told me I had a pretty name, so that's good! Jane held it together a little better and told him he inspired her to become a librarian. They had a moment. I got a little verklempt.

5) I had a ticket for a photo op with Stan Lee, but he cancelled his Saturday appearances. But! On Friday he walked right past Jane and I, so I can say I got to see Stan Lee, which is still pretty cool. We also walked past Richard Speight and Rob Benedict, two actors from Supernatural. They are wee pocket men. I heard Jane say, "Oh, look the guys from Supernatural" before I saw them, and given that my most vivid memory of SDCC is nearly being crushed to death by Jensen Ackles superfans, my first reaction was DUCK AND COVER. Thank goodness it wasn't them. I'm pretty sure the con staff were not trained in riot management.

6) During Saturday's crowd crush, a guy dressed as The Monarch ended up squashed up against Mel and me. "Um, sorry if my shoulder pads ding you," he said. "And also if I fall over on you. I'm not used to walking in heels." Me: "Welcome to the club." Meanwhile, I'm praying that we'll get to the escalator safely so my last conversation on earth won't be with a guy in a yellow felt suit.

7) Speaking of cosplay, here's my goofy self posing with She-Ra:

I love Catra photobombing.

She was my favorite that I saw. Looking at the costume round ups from other sites, I feel like I missed a ton of awesome costumes, especially this Captain Marvel.

8) Jane and I were sitting together when a guy dressed as Deadpool walked by. "That is a really bad Spiderman costume," she noted. It took me a minute to realize she was serious. And thus a running gag was born. I was like, "That's Deadpool?" and she was like, "WELL, THAT'S JUST CONFUSING."

And then we started wondering if guys who wear full-body spandex costumes tuck or not. We decided some do and some really should.

Lucky

This spring, my daughter reached a point in her development best described as Go Away, Mom. So while she ran around our little backyard urgently moving dirt from spot to spot, I sat and poked at the clover patches that pass for our lawn. Two weeks into the most perfect May weather I've ever experienced, I found my first ever four-leaf-clover.

I was thrilled. Baby Razor was unimpressed. (Story of our lives, really.)

The only other time I'd seen a four-leaf-clover was right before the final for a class that was technically titled something like Beowulf and Old English Poetry but I only ever referred to as Beowulf: Bane of My Existence. One of my classmates found it on the way to the final and let us all touch it before we went to our academic doom trying to remember what "gefrunon" meant.

So, figuring it would be a nice memento for Baby Razor's baby box, I Mod Podge'd it to a piece of card stock and figured that was the end of that.

Well. Three days later, Mr. Razor came home, said, "I had the weirdest day," and pulled these out of his laptop case:

He found the first one on the way to the bus in the morning, the next three in the patch near his office building (which is apparently a mutant clover patch, because his coworkers found two there as well), and the last one at the foot of our front steps as he came home in the evening.

I considered buying scratch tickets, but was unsure if six four-leaf-clovers in one week could be some sort of weird anti-luck jinx. For now, all the preserved clovers are safely stored for Baby Razor, just in case she ever has to translate Beowulf.