And That's Why They Call It Home Economics

 I’ve been terrible about exercising lately, call it newlywed 9 or just plain ole lazy, either way my current work pants are a bit tight. Tecnically it hasn’t been 9 pounds, but I am squishier than I was a year ago when I was paying careful attention to every little thing ate before my wedding.

I work in a corporate environment and The Limited is my favorite store.  More specifically, the sales rack is my go-to source for my work wardrobe.  I don’t want to give the impression that I’m anyone of importance, just another well-dressed cog in the machine. I have convinced myself that this weight gain is just temporary and as soon as the weather cools off a bit; I will start waking up at 5:30am and go for a run.  Um yeah, let’s see how that goes. 

I do not want to pay full price for work pants.  I found a great pair of light colored sized 8 pants.  I find a fitting room to examine myself in the mirror from all angels, not bad except when I look straight down. I could practically seal the opening and turn these into footed work pants.  I don’t think the footsie trouser look will be gracing New York Fashion Week anytime soon. 

Original price was $79 and the sale price was $34.  I am willing to pay $34 for work pants that are a size too longer but not full price.  I could take them to my local drycleaner and have them tailored, but I felt inspired and decided to do this myself.  It seems simple enough; I went through this seamstress phase in High School.  I am proud to say I actually made a skirt (with a great deal of help from my crafty mom). It was settled, since I do not own a sewing machine, I would go buy a needle and thread and save myself some money.

I started browsing the aisles of Joanne Fabrics.  I only have those chintzy sewing kits that I snagged from hotel bathrooms.  They barely provide enough thread for a button, so I would need better supplies.  I had no idea you could spend $50 on a pair of scissors.  I wanted the cutting implement that more closely resembled a pizza cutter.  This was going to be more expensive than I thought.  I would need scissors, pins, pincushion, thread, needle, and probably something else.  It hit me; it’s called Home Economics for a reason.  My cheap solution to enhancing my work wardrobe was quickly blowing up.  My not so inner nerd starts to take over; what’s the ROI on this sewing project.  ROI stands for Return On Investment. 

I actually do enjoy economics and regularly listen to planet money.  So, to break it down in simpler terms; I was going to have a negative ROI if I didn’t scale down this shopping trip.  It would have been cheaper to buy the size 8 regular pants for 80 dollars.  I was going to spend about $30 if I bought all of these items individually.  I’m not sure how to calculate my cost of labor, but the tailor at my local drycleaners would have only charged me about $12. 

I settled on a more cost effective solution of an all in one cheap sewing kit.  I am stubborn and this was somehow becoming an exercise in principal and I will mud wrestle this project into submission.

I went home feeling like I had stockpiled my weapons and was ready to bunker down for the impending battle.  I needed a motivational soundtrack, a Rocky-theme to my needle work.   I needed Tim Gunn; I would make this work!  Two hours of Project Runway, and my home sewn hem work was completed.  I will never be on Project Runway, but I won my hemming challenge.

Secret Garden

I have always wanted a garden.  I love the romantic notion of living off the land.  I blame this on my obsession with Little House on the Prairie as a little girl.  They survived harsh winters and were able to survive with very little.  I live in Burbank, not exactly the Prairie.  The wildlife in my yard consists of a few squirrels and my 11 year old terrier mutt.

The yard is an overgrown adventure.  I'm a terrible suburbanite and  can't identify most flowers and plants.   Basically, unless it produces a fruit, I have no idea what it is, with the exception of the large old Magnolia out back.  It produces those distinct flowers and appears to be a squirrel condo.  

I was so pleased the other day when I looked up at in a tree and found this thing of beauty.  I quickly took the avocado from the tree.  Honestly, I was a bit surprised that the local squirrel community had left this for me.  Maybe it was their version of a housewarming gift; look at this one item we didn't halfway gnaw through.

I experienced a surge of pride as I held the avocado.  This thing (fruit/vegetable) actually grew in my back yard.  I started thinking about all the things that I could do with this one avocado, I could slice it for my burger, or make a guacamole, or....  But why did this little object make me genuinely giddy.  

I had nothing to do with its existence.  My husband and I had only been living in the house for 2 months, before we moved in the house was vacant for almost a full year.  I could take virtually zero credit for a tree that had been growing in the yard longer than I've existed on the planet. Do I chalk this up to the whole "pride of homeownership" phenomenon?  

I started thinking about my amazing avocado and started planning a guacamole garden. I could plant a lime tree, cilantro, onions and tomatoes.  So many hopes and dreams from this one little fruit.  Could this a little bit like what parents experience when they look at their children, so many hopes and dreams contained in a small package?  Okay, fine so that was crossing the line, but still I was excited about the possibility.  At least I had time, avocados only ripen once they've been picked.

So for the next week I would look at the avocado on my counter and think about its great future.  But in the end I ended up just slicing it and enjoying it with a little salt and a lot of lime.  I didn't want to change the nature of it too much and enjoyed it for what it was, a little piece of my home.