Oh, I just love this whole idea. Love it. Love it. Want one.

Life always seems a wee bit better when you stumble across the whimsical people.

I cannot get over the little blue typewriter.

Five years ago, I bought 2 pairs of Thai fisherman pants from this little stand among the bustling thousands at the Chiang Mai night market. I’ve never worn them because … well, I didn’t know how to wear them. Now I do.

I have a plain red pair and a really pretty black pair with embroidery and beading. And they were cheap, cheap, cheap. Man, I loved Thailand!

So two questions:

~ Would I be a weirdo if I wore my fisherman pants around in daily life? Please know your answer will not deter me, I just want to know what I will be labeled, you see.

~ And, can we set up the SYC in Thailand? We’ll travel other places, of course. I mean, we have the crochet bus, the gypsy caravans, the cool motor home, the art boats. Plenty of modes of travel. But I say first stop is Chiang Mai! We’ll drink lassis and I’ll take you to Pop Am where you can eat and eat and eat for two bucks American. (We’ll give Jayne a break.)

Oh, and for dessert is an ice cream treat called Pygmy Boy.

I am not kidding.

Posted because I think Sheila will like this, based on her post today.

This is a photo by Walker Evans taken in Atlanta, GA 1936 for the Farm Security Administration, with, obviously, the Love Before Breakfast poster (and an Anne Shirley Chatterbox poster) clinging to the wooden fence in front.

I love the juxtaposition here. The glamor of the posters, the threadbare glory of the houses. The fantasy of the posters against the stark reality of life behind them.

It’s gorgeous to me.

I love roo.

I want to BE roo.

…. I think it’s important to smell like citrus.

My new favorites:

Dove Energize Body Wash — grapefruit and lemongrass. Yum.

Bath and Bodyworks White Citrus Body Spray. Also yum.

Both of these are light and crisp and fresh. I haaate heavy pretentious fragrances or anything that makes you smell like you’re a filthy hippie trying to cover up your filth. (cough) Patchouli (cough).

And when I sprayed the White Citrus on Piper and Callie Sunday morning before Disneyland — they saw me doing it and wanted some — they both went “Ooooh.”

So there’s your endorsement, pippa.

You will smell like Ooooh.

Gorgeous photo from the part of the world where MB grew up by photographer Galen Rowell, who also lived in the deep dark middle of nowhere until his tragic death in a plane crash in 2002.

(We don’t mention the name of the actual town on this blog.)

.

I love being able to see a place that’s become so familiar to me through completely new eyes.

More spectacular photos here. Go check them out.

Look at this gorgeous dapper man.

From Advanced Style. Photos by Hanneli Mustaparta

Uhm, sir? Pardon me. Hi. I know I’m a gang member and a felon and wear black underthings under white overthings, but will you marry me?

You could make me over. I am putty in your hands.

Unless you say no. Then, of course, I renounce you utterly and spend my days poking pins into a voodoo doll of your likeness wearing a miniature version of this exact suit.

Oh, and just so we’re clear: You don’t …. uhm … have any Grey Poupon? Do you?

Dear blog friend Brian sent me this today — saying it was for Sheila and me — based on this post where I talk about — oh, God knows what — my gun and MB’s fantasy man date based on an NRA sticker sighting and how perky Bob violated his man space, blahdie blah. Well, the comments in that thread are insane, basically — pony rides with guns were discussed at one point, I believe — and the whole thing inspired Brian to Photoshop this bit of crazy genius:

Seriously, Brian — I mean, I emailed you already, but I could not breathe — this is killing me. Tears of laughter. And look, that is my gun exactly, my .22! Check out my little purple duds, too! Frankly, Happy Pie Tracey never looked better and, I have to say, I really want this outfit. Those shoes! Brian, you dressed me better than I dress myself, thank you.

And you have to explain how this all came about, I beg you.

LOOK AT THAT INSANE STUFFED PONY!!

Go, gun totin’ Tracey, go!! Look how manic I am about sporting a firearm. Who needs pie? I got me a GUN.

I love how those pants are just round enough in the butt to suggest a hidden diaper.

And “drunken slatterns” — hahahahaha.

I’m rambling out of my mind here. Brian, how insane and sweet and hilarious of you. I can’t believe you took the time to make this. Thank you!! You made my day!!

(Okay. I’ve exceeded my exclamation point quota for the WEEK here.)

I can’t remember now how I stumbled upon Advanced Style, but, I’m telling you, pippa: I am so glad I did and you simply must check it out. It’s a blog devoted to the sartorial splendor of the senior citizen. (How’s that for alliteration?? Yamahama. I scare myself.) It’s not poking fun at the elderly. It’s a blog that genuinely celebrates stylish and chic old folks.

For example, this gentleman, who makes me swoon:

I love old people, honestly, I do, so this site is a new favorite of mine. I want to go to lunch with every single man and woman on that blog. I want to listen to all their stories because they all look like they must surely have them. Basically, I want to be best friends with every last one of them. The photos are fabulous. The way some of them preen and pose for the camera is priceless.

I am in LOVE with this blog. The elderly aren’t marginalized — they’re celebrated!

LOVE it.