Catching Up

A correction: My dad is 22 years younger than Carol Burnett, not 12. Sorry, Dad. I haven’t done math in a while.

So much to say. Because I blog so little.

Here’s a quick recap of my recent life (notice that I actually seem to have a life):

Wednesday

It’s Michael’s birthday. For those of you who don’t know him, he’s a former basement-dweller-turned-friend who now lives out west. And he’s visiting his girlfriend in Toronto. And his girlfriend is very cool. (Possibly cooler than you, Mike. No offense). So she plans a surprise dinner for him at a great restaurant called Fire on the East Side. Great food. Fun people. And I totally monopolize Mike’s attention. Because I see him for a couple hours once a year. I do manage to miss someone finding a vibrator that isn’t hers in her purse when I go to the bathroom, though. Oh, and Nelly Furtado was there the night before, so I’m officially hip. And the waiters are all beautiful gay men. Good raspberry chocolate cheesecake. Happy birthday, Mike.

Thursday

Nothing super-eventful. I make birthday cards for my dad and brother in front of CSI. (It’s birthday season, you may have noticed). I pack for the weekend.

Friday

I leave work early and head to meet my mom at Yorkdale Mall. I have a massive bag with me. A guy on the streetcar stands over me and essentially tells me to put my bag on my lap. Even though I already have another bag on my lap. So I pile my bags on top of each other so he can sit beside me. He then feels my bag and asks me if there’s a live animal in it. I tell him he’s feeling my blow-dryer as I silently vow to never date a guy I meet on public transit. Especially ones who will increase my discomfort just to sit with me. And who molest my luggage.

I meet Mom. We head to my grandma’s, who doesn’t know we’re coming for dinner. Then we head to my cousin’s (Second cousin? Third?) for a ladies’ meeting. My mom’s the “speaker” (it feels too casual for such a title. She’s the “talker”? “Sharer”?) and shares about her experience in Haiti. I’m the youngest person there by at least 20 years and yet I’m surprisingly comfortable there. And all the little old ladies (my mom will kill me for typing that) chat until 11pm!

Saturday

Mom and I get up early and head to Waterloo. First, Grandma tries to serve me every brand of cereal she has. And raisin bread. And cookies. And chocolate. For someone who doesn’t look fondly on chubbiness, she is certainly trying to release my inner 300-lb woman. Mom and Dad disappear to the EBC graduation, so I spend my afternoon teaching Nathan’s roommate to make omelets and watching my brothers try to work together on a card for my dad. It’s both hilarious and exasperating and takes hours, but they finally agree on an outline of a sheep with a cotton ball and glue stick in a separate baggie so it can be interactive.

The whole family goes to East Side’s for dinner (I include Sam in “the family” since she will be one day), and sit by a door. That employees like to open. I am cold. But the food is good and I took great advantage of the all-you-can-eat Caesar salad.

I have a trivia addiction, and am finally able to convince people to play Trivial Pursuit with me. Unfortunately, we play the Baby Boomers Edition and very few of us are baby boomers. In fact, my pop culture knowledge is older than that. I want questions about Jimmy Stewart, Laurence Olivier and Katherine Hepburn. We soon realize that the answers are always Don McLean, The Beatles, John Denver, Hair, Jesus Christ Superstar and Ronald Reagan (although the last time my parents played, the answer was always Jimmy Carter). We cheat to make it more fun. And Joel stays far away, as he would rather have surgery without anesthesia than spew out trivia.

Sunday

Church. We go to the church we visited on Christmas Day. Missionaries with Wycliffe are visiting and their presentation is awesome. And inspiring. I’m getting that itch. Not necessarily the overseas-missions itch (yet), but that dissatisfaction with my life because I know something bigger is in store. A good, exciting dissatisfaction.

We head to a pottery show. My dad has recently started pottery classes, so while I admire, he takes notes and gets inspired. Then I go grocery shopping with Mom and Dad. It’s a field trip. Barbequed hamburgers soon follow. And as it’s gorgeous out, my mom and I go for a walk (and talk) for a while, before everyone just crashes in the living room and lets Dad explain NASCAR racing to the ignorant (all of us) while eating Rolo ice cream.

Monday

Back at work. The schedule’s a little impossible, but I ignore this fact and still manage to leave a little early so I can catch the matinee of Amazing Grace that’s showing at a cheap theatre. Now, I’ve been to a lot of movies by myself, but never have I been the only person in the entire theatre. By the time the previews are over, there are six people in the theatre. But the row is all mine.

The movie is pretty fantastic. I am in love with Ioan Gruffudd. (I couldn’t figure out where I’d seen him before. So I IMDb’d him. He was an officer in Titanic). He should be on the cover of People’s 50 Most Beautiful People. Yes, William Wilberforce is my new crush. There are these perfect moments where you can see God in his eyes. I’m not sure how an actor prepares to be a man of God, but he did his homework. Wilberforce wasn’t even 30 when he was lobbying for the abolition of slavery in the House of Commons. The whole story is just really beautifully played out, painting a picture of a man with a heart for God and a desire for justice. I’m inspired by his youth, by his own struggle in figuring out how to follow God and still be involved in a secular world, by his counterculture image, by his perseverance. I know that slavery is still a pretty huge reality for a lot of the world, but the changes he saw in his lifetime were pretty miraculous. The movie also makes me want to lie down in the wet grass and stare at spider webs. Until I remember that I don’t like being damp.

I go grocery shopping. Some old man is yelling and swearing at a guy who asked him to move for a woman and her baby. And he doesn’t stop yelling. Or swearing. So we all stare.

I make my lunch for the next two days and unwind with a good blog.

That is all.

Dad

April 26^th.

• The 116^th day of the year in the Gregorian calendar.
• My dad’s birthday.
• My dad occasionally listens to Gregorian chants.
• I will not make fun of this, as it is his birthday.

April 26^th.

• Carol Burnett was born in 1933.
• My dad was born the same day, 12 years later.
• Carol’s a comedian.
• My dad dressed up as a clown for my birthday party when I was little.
• He even wore fake ears.

April 26^th.

• Jet Li was born.
• Did I mention it’s my dad’s birthday today?
• Jet Li can kick high.
• My dad taught kids to kick soccer balls.

April 26^th.

• Count Basie died.
• My dad doesn’t plan on dying today.
• Basie was a jazz bandleader.
• My dad likes jazz.

April 26^th.

• It’s Take Your Daughter to Work Day.
• My dad has a daughter.
• She went to work today.

April 26^th.

• In 1966, Steven Truscott’s case was referred to the Supreme Court. His conviction was upheld.
• He didn’t do it.
• Neither did my dad.
• I’ve read a lot of books on Truscott.
• My dad reads a lot of books.

Happy birthday, Dad. And thanks for the history lesson.

Joel

Happy Birthday, Joel.

And William Shakespeare.
And Timothy McVeigh.
And Michael Moore.
And Valerie Bertinelli.
And Roy Orbison.
And Shirley Temple.

But mostly Joel.

I did not buy you an attack cat.
I did not buy you your weight in Skittles.
It is illegal to steal "Pedestrian X" signs, so I did not get you one of those either.

Isn't the fact that you're not dead celebration enough?

See you Saturday.
Love you.

I'm so happy, feeling snappy

Whatever happened to Hocus Pick? And are they still feeling comfy cozy?

The sun is out. It's warm. And in light of everything going on in the world, I live a pretty awesome life. So I'm trying to pay attention to the great things around me, and not get bogged down by the emails my boss keeps sending out, begging people to start working 6- and 7-day work weeks. So I work my 40 hours, breathe a little deeper, and make like Sheryl Crow and "soak up the sun."

Nadine's Pursuit of Happiness (Notice how I spell "happiness" correctly, Will Smith):

1. On Thursday night, I saw my cousin perform in her school’s production of Guys and Dolls. It was the first high school play I’ve seen since high school. I felt like a proud parent. And a little jealous. And if I was an agent, I would have signed the girl who played Adelaide in a heartbeat.
2. I had an hour-and-a-half lunch on Friday. I sat on the patio at Tortilla Flats, splurging on a wrap (made with a pita, so it wasn't really a wrap) and fries (I never eat fries), soaking up the sun and deciding that I would be quite happy never going back to work.
3. Fracture is one of those fun, guilty-pleasure movies that isn’t super deep or as twisted as it promises to be, but has such fantastic performances that it doesn’t even matter. And for a psychological thriller, I laughed out loud more than I ended up sitting on the edge of my seat, and I loved it all the more for that (it was intentionally funny, not so bad that it was funny). It was also refreshing to see a movie that promoted some kind of integrity/morality in the face of rather significant temptation to act otherwise. Two thumbs up (my fun thumbs, not my Oscar-picks thumbs).
4. Semi-related to Fracture, this video makes me happy. The sound gets better after the first few seconds. And Justin Timberlake is in the background, I think. If only Gosling was in Newsies….
5. The weather is gorgeous.
6. I have a passport. I went for a two-hour walk on Saturday and picked it up at a tiny convenient store (with a post office at the back) a few blocks east of where I live. And then I explored the neighborhood. And found another library. Yes, I have more to read now. I also found a bookstore that only stocks cinema-related materials (along with movies and posters). Now I know where to get my Gene Kelly and Jimmy Stewart fixes (and screenwriting manuals).
   
7. I have a new debit card. My debit card was having problems at a few places, so I went into the bank and they looked at my card like I handed them a fossil. I got the card in the seventh grade, and the signature had rubbed off, and the edges of the card were sharp and rough (and potentially damaging if I chose to slash someone with it). I also applied for an Air Miles Card. I thought that it would go nicely with the new passport.
8. Matthew McConaughey is reading The Case for Christ. We now have something in common. I didn’t wear a wetsuit when I read my copy, but to each his own.
   
9. Church showed a clip from Shaun of the Dead. Yeah, it was Week 2 of zombie goodness.
   
10. Apparently, the church I’m going to has gone from 100 people to 600 in about a year and a half. Crazy. A good crazy.
11. There was an elderly couple with their arms wrapped around each other during worship this morning. It made me smile.
12. I went to a free catered lunch after church. And someone asked the pastor, “If I go to one of your home churches, does it make me Mennonite?” He responded with, “Yes. We’ll get you a hat and a pitchfork.”
13. Someone told me today that I have a dream job. Huh. I guess it can’t be that bad.
14. I walked around downtown for two hours today. When the sun’s out, I walk. I also had a semi-successful shopping experience, although my purchases sound rather scandalous: bras, perfume, makeup, whipped cream (this was part of a grocery order - for those who need clarification). At least I steered clear of feathered boas and stilettos. I’m way too Mary Tyler Moore for such things. Or maybe Donna Reed.
15. The Katherine Hepburn book keeps getting better. I love that she knew herself so well. She had no illusions of her own grandeur.
16. I bought a pre-made salad today to bring to work tomorrow. It makes me feel like I'm bringing a lunch from home (which I am), and yet no effort is involved. I could live off lettuce. Lettuce drenched in dressing, accessorized with cheese.
    

I'm distracted by an Ellen rerun. Ryan's on. He's stalking me. I should go.

Enjoy the weather while we've got it. The chart isn't too pretty on TheWeatherNetwork.com. At least my umbrella and I will be celebrating our 4-month anniversary this week...

It's About Time

Sanjaya is going home.

That is all. Carry on.

For those of you who live under a rock...

...and haven't seen this yet.

Be warned: This is not for people who are uncomfortable with mild profanity. Or toddlers. Or toddlers spewing that profanity.

For some reason, such things entertain me. So frikkin' cute ("Frikkin'" is as far as I go, people. I'm not Pearl).

Things to know. If you want to know things.

So my weekend was pleasantly uneventful (translation for most of the world: boring), as I turned down a party invite (drunkenness at the other end of the city isn’t my thing. Actually, drunkenness anywhere is generally not my thing, but adding travel to it only decreases the non-appeal) and opted to laze around in sweats and watch movies.

My dad drives my brother crazy because he can surf the Internet, read a book and flip through channels at the same time. I surprised myself by my own dad-likeness this weekend when I distracted myself from Bull Durham with a cookbook. I tried to stay focused, but The Joy of Cooking was just sitting there. I couldn’t leave it alone. So I don’t really remember a whole lot about the ending of the movie, but I am looking forward to making mini pizzas with Portobello mushrooms….

Yes, my major field trip this weekend was to the library:

• A Million Little Pieces. Unfortunately, he chose to randomly capitalize words and I’m having a hard time adjusting. I can handle an autobiography full of lies. I just hate screwed-up grammar.
• Eats, Shoots & Leaves. Because of my grammar obsession.
• Kate Remembered. I’m already addicted to this one (yes, I have multiple books on the go. Again, like father…). Katherine Hepburn is fascinating. And the biographer allows himself to be self-indulgent and shares the experience of interviewing her instead of just listing her filmography.
• A couple magazines.
• The Joy of Cooking.
• Christopher Lowell, The Hassle-Free Host. Because I’ll host a party one day. And it will be glorious. And hassle-free.

On Sunday, I headed to church. As I got on the bus, the driver gave me a curious look and said, “Where were you last week? It was Easter Sunday.” I had no idea that I was such a memorable passenger that he would be concerned that I missed a week of church. He’s my new favorite driver (British and cool in a Hugh-Laurie-with-less-grumpiness kind of way).

Church was all about zombies. Yes, zombies. Including clips from Night of the Living Dead. It was resurrection-focused and it actually challenged me, which I quite appreciated. What stuck with me the most was that the promise of my own resurrection in the future is so secure that it’s already as true for me as my past is. It’s not a maybe. I’m not going to start talking about it in the past tense, but I could…

I also signed up for a free lunch with the pastor next week. It’s actually a pretty cool idea to have a lunch just for new people, as it’s a pretty big group and it’s tough to connect with people. So at least I’ll finally meet some people and learn more about ministry opportunities there (I noticed that I was the first girl to sign up. I’m liking my odds. Very non-Guelph-like).

I ended up getting the same bus driver on the way home. Very rare. So we did the whole, “See you next week” thing that makes me forget I live in a huge city by myself.

Sylvia is depressing and a little boring (I caught myself thinking, “Just kill yourself already.” And then I felt slightly guilty. Only slightly. But Gwyneth was wonderful). The Upside of Anger was the best of the bunch, except that there is no upside. Kevin Costner was just a slightly younger and drunker version of Jack Nicholson in Terms of Endearment. There’s a surprising twist, but it still wasn’t satisfying enough. It’s essentially an anti-drinking PSA. I would give up drinking, but I already did that last year (sooo kidding. I’ll give it up next year). And as much as I love Joan Allen, even Olive Oyl could develop a pudgy complex after watching too many of her films. Eat. Food. Now. (One of the daughters goes by “Popeye,” making my mentioning of Olive Oyl so much more precious).

Work was a full 10-hour day of subtitling pain today. For some reason, L.A. thought that Filipino subtitlers would be capable of transcribing a film about African-American comics. Yeah right. The rapidity, slang, accents, pop culture references and poor sentence structure makes it impossible for them. So I’m essentially redoing the entire thing. I really need to stop relying on chocolate to get me through the mess. I need to take up a celery habit.

Thoughts:

1. The kid from Witness (Lukas Haas) turned 31 today. And I’m the one who feels old.

2. After reading through previous blogs, I would like to clarify: I have nothing against men. Just man-boys. I want a George Clooney, not an Owen Wilson. What is wrong with expecting people to grow up and mature a little?

3. The “thing for Kevin Costner” was a joke. I do have standards.

4. Cool song lyric heard on TV this weekend:

God is great, but sometimes life ain’t good

And when I pray, it doesn’t always turn out like I think it should

But I do it anyway, I do it anyway

Anyway – Martina McBride

5. Now that Prince William is single, I have a slightly greater chance of one day being Queen Nadine. And being British. He’s tall and mature. At least his accent makes him seem mature.

6. It’s free ice cream day at Ben & Jerry’s tomorrow. Go.

Movie Madness

I can't quite articulate why, but everytime I'm in a video store, I feel some sort of obligation to rent a serious, important film.

My day started off to a soggy start. I was determined to not hate my life this morning, so I dressed up a little, wore more jewelry and makeup than usual, and packed fun food to snack on (Mini Wheats, grapes, a discounted chocolate bunny). Unfortunately, the Philippines didn't get my "let's make Thursday happy" memo and I was sent the crappiest of all crappy files to work on. It was so bad I refused to work on it. I've never done that before. So they're going to resend it tomorrow. Hopefully without the hundreds of errors.

Anywho, I left early (since I didn't really have anything to do) and ended up in Blockbuster. My favorite way to unwind is to be anti-social and just hang out in my apartment and read, write and watch movies. I can't pack my weekend with social engagements. I need a certain amount of nothingness to prepare me for the coming week.

Maybe it's because I live alone. When I'm hanging out with other people, I'm all about the fun movies. But when I rent DVDs just for me, I feel this unspoken pressure to watch classics, award-winners, critical and cultural gems. So there I was, staring at copies of A Streetcar Named Desire, All About My Mother, A History of Violence and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. And I just couldn't do it.

So I gave myself permission to impulse rent. Way too much of my life is thought out and over-analyzed. I just felt this need for cinematic breathing room. I wandered every aisle and picked out the three that caught my fancy, and tried not to second-guess anything. Here's what I picked:

1. Bull Durham. Because I like baseball movies. And Susan Sarandon. And I haven't seen it.
2. Sylvia. Because I like true stories. And Daniel Craig. And Gwenyth. And because my woes as a writer are nothing compared to Sylvia Plath's.
3. The Upside of Anger. Because subconsciously I must have a thing for Kevin Costner (who plays a retired ball player. I tell you, the man is obsessed with that sport: Bull Durham, Field of Dreams, For the Love of the Game). And because I like intimate family dramedies.
   

There. Not a Gone With the Wind in the bunch. No Brando, no Woody Allen, no foreign languages.

I will eat dark chocolate and watch as a fan, not as a student of film. I love weekends.

Easter: My Style

Hey everyone. Clearly, I can't do the consistent blogging thing. I'll try to catch you all up on my weekend.

A side note before I begin: I had no idea that my shopping woes would evoke such a strong reaction from everyone (yes, I received emails as well as comments). I appreciate the offers of stylists and shopping buddies (and may well take you all up on the offers), but please be assured that my rants are merely rants and I don't actually spend my days hating my shoulders or wearing paper bags. I am generally well-dressed and quite satisfied with my figure. And I do enjoy shopping alone and trying on random items as long as there's no immediate event I have to dress for. The end.

My Easter:

Wednesday

I decided to take Thursday off (I had Friday and Monday off - paid even - so I figured I'd take an extra day off and give myself a five-day weekend). So Wednesday evening my dad picked me up, making sure that we arrived in Waterloo in time for me to watch Lost with Joel. I must admit, since revealing Jack's piano-playing ability, I'm even more smitten with Matthew Fox. It's nice to see a real man on TV. I've been very anti-man-boy lately.

Thursday

It was cold. Dad took the van to Mississauga, so Mom and I did the transit thing, trekking across K-W to the Passport Office. My bones were cold for the rest of the day. But my passport will arrive by the end of the month, which means I can go somewhere. I've never been in a plane. I'm tired of being deprived. I shall fly.

I love hanging out in the kitchen with my mom when I'm home. Thursday was something my mom called a "bean stack" (a layered torilla and bean dish). Then we all watched The Prestige, and stayed up way too late. Because that's what I do when I'm home. I eat and stay up late. Every time. And end up debating whether or not a dinosaur could actually fight a shark.

Friday

Mom and I headed to a craft show. We met up with a woman who lived with my family when I was about 10. She looked the same to me. Of course, I'm not quite the 10 year old I was, so there was a little more staring on her part, but all was well. I bought honey-cinnamon butter, and then immediately regretted it because I try to keep sugar out of my house. (That's my version of discipline: Out of sight, out of mouth). Oh well.

Ruth (that's the woman's name) and her friend came over for dinner. I think there was nonstop talking for a good five hours. More good food. And chocolate cheesecake. After they left, my brother brought out Risk and promptly took over Australia before any of us knew how to play. That's one way to win :) The game was short, and followed up with more cheesecake.

Saturday

I bought two pots and a knife. Because I'd rather shop for my kitchen than for my body. And I got my haircut. For some reason, no stylist can cut my hair short enough. Maybe I should pull a Britney....

Mom and I did some menu planning for the rest of the week, we made lots of food, we ate lots of food, and then we played Risk again. But this time, my dad sat it out, choosing instead to don his Montreal Canadiens sweater and pray for a miracle in front of the TV. It didn't come. At least his pain was eased the next day by the Leafs elimination. Risk took 5 hours. I was begging for someone to attack me. Please, end my pain.

Sunday

Everyone (including Nathan and his girlfriend, Sam) went to Koinonia. I call it Hillsongs Jr. It was a pretty great choice for Easter Sunday, as it has a pretty vibrant and joyful vibe. Nathan then headed back to Peterborough (he had a presentation Monday), and the rest of us headed home to get ready for our Easter bash on Monday. I think I did the dishes 6 times. We ate homemade pizza in front of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. And then Mom beat me at Scrabble. By one point.

Monday

Everyone came. A little late, mind you, and 6 people couldn't make it, but 17 members of my mom's side crammed into our house and had a jolly time. Yes, I just typed the word "jolly." Good food, great conversation, more dishes to wash, and the perfect amount of choas that only comes from putting a small crowd of people in a room and letting them all talk at the same time. I think I was part of three conversations at the same time at one point. And then my cell phone rang. There was no one there, so I yelled, "I don't love you" into it and everyone turned and stared at me. That's one way to get everyone's attention. And then I explained to my grandma that it was a wrong number, not an ex-boyfriend.

After consuming plenty of sugar (and more cheesecake), the party started to dwindle, and I headed back to the T-dot, where my fridge was empty and where no one could distract me as I tried to get ready for bed.

Tuesday

Back at work. In my stretchiest jeans while I detox from my recent bout of gluttony. The day was rather uneventful and (thankfully) quite stress-free. This is what I learned:

• Sleeping Dogs is screening in Toronto this weekend. At the Royal (on College): Fri/Sat/Sun at 7pm, Tues at 9:15. Go see it.
  
• Larry Birkhead is the father.
• You know how Amazon remembers the things you look at? Thanks to the randomness of my job, it currently lists my recent views as:
• Of Mice and Men
• Drake's Devil Dogs (yes, the snack food)
• Donovan's Greatest Hits
• La Bamba - Trini Lopez
• Commando Double Stick Strips Accessory (yes, this was work-related)
  
• "Milk-chocolate flavored" is not the same thing as milk chocolate. I have never thrown out candy before. So gross.
• John Travolta has to be wearing a toupee. There can be no other explanation for his mane.
  

There. You're caught up. I had a fantabulous weekend. My fridge is now restocked. And there are only three days left to my work week. I could get used to this...

"What are you doing and why aren't you doing it faster?" - Joel

Mallrat I'm not

Before I begin:

My apologies for the inconsistent blogging. I just realized that my last blog was quite depressing; with no follow-up, I'm sure most of you have assumed that I've plunged into an isolating, anti-blogging depression. I assure you, my week got better and I've not had any of my work deleted by L.A. since last Monday.

Back to today:

A friend at work and I were discussing my perpetual shopping dilemmas. I am in such desperate need of a wardrobe that, upon entering any shopping centre, I get overwhelmed. If I look at pants, my brain gets obsessed with the fact that I have no shoes to wear the pants with. Or shirts. And if I look at shirts, I can't get over the absence of a good bra. Or necklace. And if I look at necklaces, I get all depressed because there's no point buying jewelry when there's nothing to wear it with. And so I go home empty-handed. On top of these mental blocks, my body seems to be half a size bigger or smaller than clothing is designed for. And if I were to gain or lose that perfect half size, my legs and arms would still be abnormally orangutan-like, my feet would still have arches that seem to curve away in repulsion from all footwear options, and my shoulders would still better suit a linebacker.

Our shopping conversation ended with a very simple conclusion: I am Woody Allen at the mall. The calm, laid-back, intelligent woman that I can sometimes pass for morphs into a neurotic, indecisive, jittery mess. (And those changing-room mirrors screw with my body image to the point where Woody and I could be twins).

So today, after work, I took a deep breath and made myself shop. I was not allowed to leave the mall without buying something. Which means that I tried on piles of clothing, almost putting my back out with the awkward neck- and armholes that didn't align with the actual positions of my neck and arms. I tried on long, baggy sweater dresses that made me look like a ballet dancer who let herself go. I tried on short little jumpers that made me look like I haven't been shopping since the third grade.

I have too much personal style to wear the crazy trends. Nothing looks like me. And my style isn't flamboyant by any means. It's just not uber-trendy, super-tight, hip-hop-video ready. Maybe I watch too much America's Next Top Model, but as I was shopping I kept trying to accurately define in a catchy soundbite what my style is. I think I got it:

My personal style is Audrey Hepburn at camp.

Yep, that's me. I like classic, well-made, well-fitted clothing. I like scarves, solid colors and tasteful stripes. I don't like things that only work for one season. But I'm not glamorous enough to be a true Audrey. I wear neutrals. Brown is my obsession. I like a little ruggedness: the odd hoodie, chunky sweaters and khaki capris. So I'm Audrey at camp.

It took four agonizing hours (and $150), but I came home with four shirts, two tanks, a bracelet and three pairs of socks. No pants, no shoes, no bra. But at least it's a start.

I may be the only girl on the planet who has to convince herself to shop more often....