Weathered planks

Dress: Sangria;

Shoes: Zigi Soho;

Sweater: Merona, borrowed from Nik;

Belt: Ann Taylor Loft.
Photos by me.

How I've worn the dress before: here.

Thank you all for your very sweet comments and virtual hugs on my last post. I'm sometimes a little afraid to publish posts like that, because it seems like I always have a gratitude post every couple weeks because I wrote about something really depressing, and I don't want my blog to become this thing of sadness. Sometimes I wish my blog could be this shiny, happy place all the time, just full of fun outfit posts, but it wouldn't really be depicting reality if I did that.

I really do, though, appreciate everything you guys said in the last post about J. It's so strange how someone can be in your life for a fraction of time, impact it and then you mourn that person's disappearance from your life. It was so meaningful to read all of your words -- from condolences and personal stories. I feel like this "virtual" world has really become such a wonderful, supportive community, in such a way that I feel like many of you have become such good friends, too. Sometimes I feel like my readers may know more about me than some of my college friends or family members, because I think blogging (and journal-writing) can offer more insight to a person's life than other stuff. Some of the people I know in real time don't understand that style blogging isn't just some vain construct where we fashionistas just post pretty pictures all day...it is a living, breathing community full of awesome, encouraging people. Like you.

Anyways, I thought I'd talk about today. I have today through Thursday off, and there was no way I could bring myself to waste any of today lying in bed with unwashed hair and just watching reruns. I wanted to, but I just couldn't. I woke up still feeling really sad, but I just got in the shower and got ready. I spent most of the afternoon at my mom's house -- she and my sister are coming back tomorrow from their month-long trip in the Philippines, and I wanted to do my laundry there (I am shameless) and clean up around the house (I can be nice though) before they got back. 

While I was there, I played around in my backyard. My whole outfit is a tribute to my backyard -- the dress is pretty reminiscent of the tree bark and the planks on the treehouse, and of course the yellow sweater is a close color match to the swings and the slide. Nik and I have posted some photos of our treehouse before, but I wanted to show them again. When we were younger, my brother and I told my dad that we really wanted a treehouse, but he really exceeded our expectations by making it as big as it is. My dad built it for us in 1997, and it is a two-story behemoth in the backyard.  A yellow slide and swingset came with the house when we moved in, and my parents just added on to it. It's technically not a house in a tree -- it's concreted to the ground with support beams and the second floor wraps around the tree. The second floor has no roof, unless you count the tree's branches and leaves as a shelter, which was so smart of my parents because we really got to see nature up there. My dad affixed the old yellow slide to the back area of the first floor. We asked for a treehouse, and our dad built us a Frank Gehry piece of art, in our eyes.

We kids were so lucky growing up. We became popular in our neighborhood, and many treehouses were built around our road the following summer, but none as cool as ours. Many of our friends wanted to spend hours up on the second floor with us. We played games, acted out stories, watched leaves fall and change colors up there. When I was 14, we got a trampoline, and we pushed it next to the treehouse so we could perform the daredevil stunt of jumping off the second floor and landing on the trampoline. Looking back, I could've broken my neck doing that. It's crazy to look at the treehouse and be reminded of all the acrobatic leaps I used to be able to do.

Now, the treehouse is aging. Some of the wood has rotted so that the second floor is probably too unsafe to climb in. The blue "Welcome" sign I made and nailed to the front of the treehouse can now barely be read. But I like going out to it, and tracing my hand down the weathered planks. I'll be sad when the whole thing will eventually have to come down. It is still a happy place, and I still swing out there.

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