That’s a wrap!

Boy, oh boy, what a year 2011 has been, am I right?!  Some majorly, crazy things happened this year, as per usual.  Of course, there were the shoddy lows and heartbreaks, all of which molded me into an even better person, balanced out by the glorious highs and challenging life experiences.

Most importantly, I fulfilled my childhood dream and got a real deal, big-girl job teaching 5th grade.

Then I started this blog as a silly hobby, you know, a way to document my obscure and bizarre fashion as an educator.  Please don’t go back and read my first post; it’s disgustingly embarrassing!

And frankly?  Teaching is the single best thing that has ever happened to me.  I hope to do it for as many years as they’ll have me.  As for blogging, this “silly hobby” has turned into something much deeper and more meaningful to me than you dedicated folks will ever know.  I am loving every minute of it.  Seriously, thanks for consistently reading my musings and saying insanely nice things.  This blog would be super lame without all of you guys!

So, from my students who make this teacher tick, to my readers who, for some reason, keep coming back, I am so darned grateful and love each and every one of you.

Can we please keep this going in 2012?

Here’s your favorite posts of the year, as voted by the ever-reliable statistics counter:

    

 

Oh, and since this post was kinda sappy, please go watch this and laugh until you cry.

Skate night, date night

If you’re friends with me on Facebook, you’ve probably gotten a smidge annoyed with my hyperbolic ranting and raving about ice skating:

“Literally all I want for Christmas this year is to go ice skating.  Is that so much to ask?”

I’m not sure if my desire stems from my youth, spent meandering around Crown Center with my thrifted muffler and hand-me-down wool coat, or if I still have remnants of my former obsession and idolization of my favorite Ukrainian ice princess.  But for the last several winters, it’s been like pulling teeth to get anyone to brave the ice rink for a little festive fun.

That was, until last night.

A very kind (and naïve) gentleman offered to take me down to the rink of all rinks.  You see, in downtown Kansas City, one of the meccas of all things Christmas is Crown Center.  The mayor’s Christmas tree rises high into the sky, wooden Nutcracker’s line the block, and colorful fountains dance to the sound of Holiday tunes.  It’s everything you’d want in a kitschy little holiday outing.

We laced our weathered skates and I quickly stood up, and just as quickly fell back down, overwhelmed with the  burgeoning excitement of years of built up anticipation.  Painstakingly, we crept awkwardly towards the ice, taking short, choppy movements over the bumpy, over-populated rink.

The night wore on, and we created nicknames and life stories for our fellow ice dancers.

There was Twilight, a young man who came to the rink by himself, complete with a 26-inch waist, perfectly quaffed hair, and a meticulously chiseled face.  We agreed he came to the rink to pick up chicks, and would most definitely be posting on Missed Connections later that night.

And finally, there was Hair Gel.  Hair Gel brought his very own pro-hockey skates, and weaved and wound through the crowd, itching to bust out the hockey stick and awe his fellow patrons with his signature slap-shot.  He laughed even louder than I did at my date’s jokes, and I’m convinced has a fully stocked closet of Axe.

Despite my winter-long daydream of gliding effortlessly across the ice, completing swirly twists and turns, even throwing in a single salchow,  I stuck to the basics.  If I’m honest, I didn’t want to scare my date with my gold medal winning, God given gift of falling flat on my bum.

{black denim: H & M} {high-five t-shirt: F21} {taupe leather boots: vintage}  {Native American earrings: Kohl’s} {rose gold watch: Michael Kors} {rings: family heirlooms}

House hunters: suburbia

Have you ever seen one of those house hunting television shows?  You know, the ones with the overly-highlighted chick who wants “OMG, hardwood floors throughout, stainless steel appliances, and an amazing neighborhood, all for an unreasonably cheap mortgage”?  These punks view tons of houses,and end up with their dream home in under 30 minutes.

This is not real life.

4 hours of hunting and 6 properties later (one of which we were turned down from because we somehow make too much $, LOL, we’re teachers, that’s impossible), the hunt continues.  Do we want to go with the quiet neighborhood with youngsters riding their trikes through our grass, or the complex with hip, trendy, young folk?

Decisions, decisions.

{denim: Target} {coral t-shirt: Gap} {pleather jacket: Target} {Native American suede boots: Minnetonka}  {cobalt purse: Francesca’s} {yoga scarf: World Market} {Michael Kors watch: MK }

See these pieces restyled here:

Ch-ch-ch-changes

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday, and maybe even a few of you had a white Christmas!  My Christmas (well, every Christmas, really) was a smidge odd and special in its own way.

You see, it’s probably the last Christmas that my bro and I were going to spend under the same roof and  the final time he would come barreling in my room, opera singing, “IT’S CHRISTMAS MORRRRNING” at the tip-top of his lungs.  And it’s probably the last time I will have woken up in my childhood bedroom and waltzed half awake down the hall, to a pile of beautifully hand-wrapped gifts.  And finally, it’s the last Christmas before my bro gets all matrimonial and grown up, and I move on to my own humble abode.

Of course I’m still spending next Christmas (and hopefully every thereafter) with my family, but it will just be different and kinda adult.  I mean, Chris and I will still argue over petty crap, crack immature jokes, and watch the same Christmas classics on repeat.  Okay, okay, it’ll be adult-ish.

[I had to.  That watch has been in my dreams for months and months, and it became mine at 60% off. AGH!]

{jeggings: Target} {plaid button up: Old Navy} {golden cardigan: Target} {brown belt: thrifted}  {leopard wedges: Target} {Wooden bracelets: vintage, gift from gran}  {Michael Kors watch: MK }

See these pieces restyled here:

  

Merry, Merry Christmas

Merry merry Christmas, from me, to you.

But seriously though, you guys and this blog bring such a true joy to my life, day in and day out.  I’d buy you all igloos and candy canes if I had enough money.

Much love!

This Christmas

It wouldn’t be Christmas break without:

My bro and I getting into a petty argument (or arguments)

Valiant attempts to not over-spend my budget (and failing)

Christmas music being way over-played

Sugar cookies being way over-eaten (and nachos, also fried foods, really everything)

Sweat pants being way over-worn

So, I give you permission this holiday season to seriously let loose.  Quit counting calories (not that I did or you do), give your heels a rest, and bust out an addictingly good book and a delicious beverage.  Trust me, come January, real life comes into full swing again, and you’re going to regret all those sugar cookies that you let get stale.

On the Chic Teach this week:

I got short

I got straight

I got zombies

Eh, shortay!

Most days, I feel pretty tall.  Granted, I wear a stupid amount of platform wedges, which make me an average of 5’7″.  Usually though, I am almost always oblivious to the fact that I am a certified shorty.

It’s the few times when I’m around genuinely tall people, that I realize the sheer miniature-ness of my stature.  Like when I’m on a date with a 6’3″ man, or when my 10-year-old students are taller than me.  Or the one time that I decided to pose next to a ten-foot Christmas tree in my parents’ living room.

And especially the time I was in a cave in Germany and all my classmates had to duck beneath the stalactites and low clearings, while I breezed through like a well-experienced spelunker.

Yeah, it’s those times that I feel like Polly Pocket.

{jeggings: Target} {leopard top: thrifted} {black tank: F21} {royal blue kitten heels: thrifted}  {green and blue plaid scarf: F21}    

See these pieces restyled here:

     

The straight and narrow

Growing up, I had some seriously, horrifyingly awful haircuts.  Don’t even get me started on the time I asked for this:

(source)

and instead got this:

source

True story, you guys.  Suffice it to say, I cried for weeks and gave deadly dagger eyes to the guilty hairdresser.  I’d add a photo, except for I refused to be photographed during this painful period.

So, for about 4 years after that, I let my hair grow and grow, until I chopped it off again.

No bull cuts this time!  Fast forward 3 years without a haircut, and you have Rapunzel-esque hair!  Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration, but it’s the longest I’ve had it, perhaps in my whole life!

As hard as it is to admit, my normally curly locks have definitely become part of my identity.  I couldn’t imagine life without my big, obnoxious fro. It perfectly mirrors who I am as a person: carefree, larger than life, and spicy*.

*I despise the term “spicy”, I just wanted to see if anyone actually reads this far.

{high waisted jeans: F21} {black velvet blazer: Express, thrifted} {polka dot cropped shirt: thrifted} {red suede wedges: Target}  {white watch: Kohl’s} {green jingle bell earrings: borrowed from my ma}

See these pieces restyled here: 

        

Zombie-like behavior

I’m not sure if you personally know any educators or children, but I guarantee if you ask any one of them, they can give you an exact countdown until Christmas break.  You know, it’s just that time of year.  My students are absolutely wonderful and precious, but I think we’re ready for a few days apart.

And frankly, I’m just ready to sit on my butt and read this series all over again.

So last Friday, just when I got to the point that I felt like I wouldn’t make it until break, the oddest thing happened.  I was welcoming my kids back into our room after science, when I noticed a boy at the end of our line dragging his foot, with a pained look on his face.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?!  What’s wrong with your foot?!”  I asked, genuinely concerned.  “Oh, it’s nothing Miss B.  We’re just having a zombie walk competition.”  Baffling.  Seriously.

And then half of my class proceeded to drag their right foot the entire rest of the day.

Their pure oddity and off the wall behavior earned themselves an extra day of patience from Miss B.

{gold and grey dress: Target} {black velvet blazer: Express, thrifted} {black sweater tights: Target} {silver glitter pumps: Old Navy} {metallic belt: gift} {white watch: Kohl’s} {golden glitter headband: Gap Kids}

I know this outfit isn’t amazing, but it’s really just a vehicle to wear those glittery shoes.  They steal the show, anyway!

Weekend recap: I need help, leather, and a good dose of weird

Your suggestions on yesterday’s post did not fall on deaf ears, my friends!  You all completely pulled through, and I couldn’t have been more grateful for all your loving fashion advice.  Photos are to come, but someone had a camera there that was 97,000x nicer than the one I own, so I will wait to post those photos at a later time.

[That would be the most beautiful city of all, Kansas City.  I might have gotten a bit weepy when I looked out of this penthouse view and saw this sight.  Gorgeous.]

As for now, I am off to yoga to stretch out some very sore dancing muscles.  My body feels 18 years old every day, so someone explain to me why my back feels like a granny?

In the meantime, why don’t you get your read on, and check out the posts from last week:

Monday: I got a little weird

Wednesday: My mom is such a classic.  So is leather.

Friday: You gave me advice on being a grown up, fashion freak, going to a legit event.