Annoying Pajamas, Etc.

My pajamas are extremely annoying. I bought two sets of these at Conway a few years back on account of they were fleece, and I get very cold. Fleece pajamas looked like the nicest things ever. I didn't realize until I got them home and was WAY too lazy ( and, frankly, embarrassed...I mean, they cost like 6 bucks a pair or something) to take them back, that the damn things were hip-slung.

Now I understand that there are things which are built to sit on one's hips as opposed to one's actual waist, but I just don't think (I get REALLY cold at night) that pajamas should be among them. I want all the nice fleecy coverage I can get - if I were looking for something sexy to wear to bed (which I suppose pajamas that hang below one's navel are supposed to be), I wouldn't be looking for a pair of fleecy pajamas, would I? I would be looking for something with lace, and chiffon, and stuff...and (to be perfectly blunt), MUCH easier access than pajamas, for heaven's sake. Honestly. And of course whenever I want to shop for nice warm jammies, it turns out to be around Christmas, when A. they're much more expensive, and B. I have so much to buy for everyone else that there's really no money for jammies for Mom. (Note to all family reading this - about next year's Christmas present...)

I have had a birthday! Actually I do this every year, just about the same time. Isn't that amazing how that happens? Anyway, Sarah and the crew took me out for escargot and steak frite (well, there were other things on the menu, but that's what I had), and we all had a lovely time. And I even went out this afternoon and bought myself a whole new outfit for the occasion.

It was a lovely day today, so I decided to go off window shopping on lower Broadway, and while I was there, I thought...what the hell, it's my 64th birthday, and I deserve something pretty to wear out to dinner. ( I have now been 64 for 50 minutes...March 31, 1945 is where I started.) The genesis of this thought was my distinct feeling that if I showed up one more time ANYWHERE in my normal uniform of jeans, boots, turtleneck and scarf I would gag.

Well, it was a struggle. The first struggle (even though I was at H&M), was justifying spending money on myself. Then I thought, well, hell...there's some money in the bank and after all, it's MY damn birthday.

Struggle number two was to quit thinking like a New Yorker. I immediately gravitated to every single piece of black clothing in the store. Have you any idea how much black clothing I own?

Weirdly, without much thinking about it, I ended up looking quite like Michelle Obama. I bought a sleeveless royal blue sheath dress and an emerald green cardigan to go over it...and put on pearls and pumps...and, to be frank I looked WONDERFUL!

My, my, my...such an admission for a New Yorker...THERE ARE COLORS!

I've had a lovely birthday, thank you...hope all of yours are the same!

Love, Wendy