I knew I shouldn't have asked for opinions about my hip bag from all you beige-lovers (thanks, Junosmom, my kindred spirit in all things outrageous). I can tell you've all been reading that mean JenIG's blog for far too long.
For your information, I decided to take my hip bag on vacation. I carried it through airport security and the screening guys only snickered a little. I might even add some tassels and sequins to it and carry to the next homeschooling conference. Neener neener.
And get this - my next purse project is going to be made from an old pair of denim shorts and a red western belt. There, let that give you nightmares for the next few weeks.
So anyway, I'm on vacation in Pennsylvania, in my parents' house without air conditioning due to the Groundhog Incident. This afternoon I am going to seek out an ice cream shop where I will consume 4.5 gallons of ice cream in an attempt to bring my body temperature down below 150 degrees. I may even slather a little mint chip right on my neck.
Next week we're going to Cape May & Wildwood Crest, New Jersey, to spend a few days relaxing in the Atlantic Ocean. One summer of my childhood, we were at the beach and found a few $20 bills washing up on shore. (Probably from a sunken drug-running ship. It was the 70's, after all. Peace, love, cannibis, and all that.) After hearing that story, my fifteen year old son is convinced he is going to find enough money there to buy a skim board, a PSP, and a Corvette. The boy dreams big.
So if any of you happen to be at WC next week and see a pudgy lady in a bright pink swimsuit (hey, I don't do subdued), carrying a hip jungle print bag and accompanied by a teenage boy digging furiously for buried treasure -- run away. Far, far away.