Friends, I am by no means a fashionista.  Puhleeze!  The acceptable work attire for my day job is jeans, a t-shirt and sandals.  I wear Crocs or sneakers almost every day.  This is not to say that I don't know how to dress fashionably or that I don't own other clothes.  When the occasion warrants, I have many outfits and separates from which to choose to pull myself together.  Still, unlike the character of Finley in Knock Em Dead, which I blogged about in the previous entry, I'm not a label conscious pursuer of designer duds.  I don't care who designed my clothes as long as they're well-made, stylish, fit me right and aren't made of questionable "fabrics" that could melt on a hot and sunny enough day.

So, it might sound strange to you, but I'm experiencing more than a soupcon of grief over the departure from Key West of one of my favorite stores.  The Coach Outlet is no longer on Duval Street.

*le sob*

I love Coach handbags.  Truly.  I have three, okay, technically four if you count the wristlet.  There's the golden brown suede and leather portfolio-messenger style bag for fall and winter (Who cares if Florida's temperature really doesn't change enough to follow style seasons?), a blue leather and dotted fabric number, and a cute little blue leather and shiny fabric bag.  Plus that wristlet of blue and white leather.

Great bags and, thanks to that Coach Outlet, wonderful, affordable bags.  See, I got all of them, at various times, from the clearance sections of the outlet.  Coach Outlet + clearance section = significant savings from regular retail.  Factor in the generous extra 10% discount I received for being a local and you'll see that the bags were so much lower in price that I couldn't NOT buy them!

I have no idea when I developed this Coach crush.  Heck, not too many years ago, I carried a bag made out of the butt of a pair of jeans, complete with zipper fly and pockets!  (Great for slipping in a cell phone and lip gloss!) It even had pretty dolphin appliques.

 My sister-in-law loathed that handbag.  I swear when she saw it, her face tightened like she'd gotten a whiff of month old, maggoty meat.  She thought I was far too mature to carry such a bag.  Sis-in-law is pleased with my more appropriate Coach addiction.

Sometimes, if I'm in a mall with a Coach retail store, I go in to view the merchandise and torment myself over the prices.  I love Coach, but I don't relish the idea of spending $400 to $800 for a handbag.  It isn't that I'm cheap, or poor.  More that my practical heart knows I'll be happier paying hundreds less for a bag and using the savings to purchase something else that I'd really, really love to own.  Call it Sense and Cents-ability!

Which brings me to an article that I read online today about what the style of bag we carry indicates about our personalities.  Briefcase-purse type bags = professional, intelligent, organized, able to multi-task.  Clutch = confident, streamlined, don't need entire life by our sides.  Monogrammed tote = Proud of who we are, comfortable, open to the world knowing it. 

Then there's the Brand bag = We like the finer things in life and want people to know it.  We're "fabulous" and know that certain brands enhance our image and upscale personality. 

Does that make everybody who carries a brand name bag sound like a status-seeking snob or what?  Topping that, the bag they named as the "pinnacle" is the Hermes Birkin.

I Googled the Birkin.  Retail price starts at $7500.00!!!    

Holy sweet Lord in Heaven, that's only slightly less than the cost of my first car!

For a handbag.  To carry stuff in.  Everyday ordinary stuff like my wallet (enhanced by puppy tooth marks), keys, lip gloss, business cards, eye drops, tampons.    If I was the type to carry a $7500.00 bag, I'd damn well better have a 14K gold tampon case as an accessory.

Could you imagine the first time you got the teeniest scratch on the leather of the Birkin?  It would be the equivalent of someone keying a Bentley's paint job. 

Even if I had the money, I wouldn't spend $7500 on a single handbag.  Not when there are so many other, wonderful, more rewarding things to buy -- like trips to Hawaii, a good sized deposit on a luxury car, a fourth of your kid's college tuition.

 

I just finished reading Knock Em Dead by Rhonda Pollero.  By "just", I mean that I was 20 minutes late leaving for work because I was thisclose to The End and had to fnish before I put down the book.

It's that terrific.

Even if Rhonda wasn't a friend, I'd want to blog this book.  It's the second in the Finley Anderson Tanner (F.A.T.) mysteries, featuring Finley -- a Palm Beach, Florida, paralegal fashionista who might misstep when working a case, but never puts a wrong foot forward when finding a deal on the hottest looks and labels in clothes, shoes, bags, accessories . . .

Finley's dear friend Jane arrives at her door in the middle of the night, hysterical and covered in blood.  Waking up and discovering the guy you went to bed with is now stabbed to death in your bed and missing a rather private part will do that to a woman.  Fin and her friends pull out all the stops to help their friend -- and that lands them deep in a world of ultra-privileged Palm Beach society, a high-end dating service, murder, intrigue, family struggles, and more.

As if all that wasn't enough, Fin has to get a handle on her relationship with Patrick and her spontaneous com-lust-ion around the very H-O-T investigator Liam McGarrity.

This fast-paced, never-boring, super smart mystery is loaded with wit and spiced with snark.  I loved the first book in the series -- Knock Off -- and now can't wait for the next Finley book Fat Chance.

I predict that each book will gain more Finley fans.  This series has legs (in Manalo shoes) and I believe it's destined for the top!

I can't remember which Kevin Smith movie this happened in, but there's a scene where the main character is in turmoil, unburdening himself to Jay and Silent Bob.  Jay turns to Bob and says something like, "This is the place where you usually come out with something smart and helpful."  Bob looks like he's about to spew some golden words of wisdom but stops suddenly, shrugs and says, "I got nothing."

That's sort of how I feel tonight about American Idol.  I got nothing.  Nothing funny to say, that is.  Maybe it's because we're down to three contestants.  Maybe it's just that there was nothing obvious that I could pick on.  Even Paula was coherent.

It's not that the contestants performed brilliantly on all three of the songs they sang.  There were some good moments and some clunkers.  Just nothing that inspired obvious mockery.  Hmm.  Maybe it's me.  If I was a contestant, Randy would say, "I don't know, dawg.  It just didn't cut it for me."

About the only funny thought I had was that when David A. sang, "Longer Than", he should have substituted the lyrics, "Longer than I've been alive."

Maybe next week!

Have you heard?  A new Babe joined the rest of us at Babes in Bookland!  She's Beth Ciotta and we're happy to have her as part of our group blog.

This week's topic is Characters who do terrible things and how we redeem them in our books.  I know that there are bound to be some interesting posts in this discussion.  Hope you'll join us.

I've posted today.  Stay tuned all week.

Click here for Babes in Bookland!

The city where I live is considering adding a dog park.  The Parks officials have asked interested citizens to get together and form some plans on what we would like to see included in a park so that they can crunch some numbers and present the plans to the City Council.  Hopefully City Council will then allocate the money in the next fiscal year's budget.

I've long wanted us to have a dog park.  Even though I have a fenced-in yard where Nat and Pyxi play with each other, I and many other dog owners think it's great for dogs to socialize.  Play time for canines!

So, I went to the meeting last night as an interested citizen and left as a member of the citizens' committee.

I've been to dog parks, done some reading, and know they can work.  There are two others already in the Keys.  I have some ideas, but would love to hear more.

That's where you come in, wonderful blog readers.  Surely some of you have dogs and live in places that have dog parks.

Do you go to dog parks?  Do you and your pooches enjoy the experience?

What are some of the features/amenities at your park?  Of those features, what does your dog seem to enjoy?

Anything you hate?

What do you love?

One a scale of 1-10, (1 being bare bones and 10 being the resort equivalent of dog parks) where does yours fall?

Please respond in comments, or shoot me an email at mary@mary-stella.com.

Nat, Pyxi and I thank you for your input!

No matter how you feel about this particular war, please remember that our soldiers protect and serve.

Please watch this video and pass it on.

 

Everybody who agrees that AI will have an all-David final, say "Aye!"

Just when you thought that nobody would ever do a worse cover of Mr. Tambourine Man than William Shatner -- Jason Castro lowered the bar tonight on American Idol.  I loved Jason early in the competition, but if he doesn't get voted off tomorrow, I'll make a personal appeal to the parents of every text-message-voting teenager in a American, begging them to, "Take away your kids' cell phones!"

Note to Randy, just once cut to the chase and say, "That sucked, dude."  Really, we don't need to hear you stutter through, "I don't know what's going on; it didn't do it for me; I didn't love it."

Although, I had to laugh when he said that Jason "just wasn't in the zone."  Are you kidding me?  Jason puts the Zzzzz in zoned!

Anybody else think that Simon's messing with our heads?  He didn't like Syesha's performance of Proud Mary but he agreed with Paula that she did a great job on Change is Gonna Come.  Then, he scolded Randy for making Syesha cry!  Simon, you've produced more contestant tears than a room full of strong onions.  That said, I think Syesha has grown and improved consistently the last several weeks and she deserves to stay in the competition for another week.

I'd like to believe her outflow of emotion was genuine and that she wasn't borrowing from her friend Brooke White's tactic of "cry and they'll feel sorry and vote for you".

David Cook, they were right about both of your performances.  Hungry Like a Wolf wasn't your best.  Baba O'Reilly brought you back.

I finally figured out who David Archuleta reminds me of.  It's the character of Ugly Betty -- without the poncho, glasses and braces.  He could be her little brother.  He could be anybody's little brother, altar boy, and kid most likely to get the crap kicked out of him in school.  I hate to agree with Ryan Seacrest, but David A. does look like he's about to faint after every performance.  His humble gratitude makes Melinda Doolittle look like an egotistical diva.

Putting aside relentless picking on the kid, his performances were incredible.  I agree with whichever judge said that Stand By Me was his best performance of the competition.

Yes, definitely a David-David final.  It's only right.

In a side note, country trio Rascal Flatts had a busy night.  Almost faster than I could change channels on my remote they ran from the audience at American Idol to the studio next door to perform on Dancing with the Stars.

I'm struggling to start this blog about the Bruce Springsteen concert Friday night.  It isn't that I don't have words, but that I have too many.  Too many superlatives and adjectives:  Amazing, Awesome, Fantastic, Heart-Pumping, Mind-Blowing.

Over 30 years ago, when I first became a Springsteen fanatic, when I described what I felt about his music, or the experience of Bruce and the E Street Band, those who didn't get it accused me of hyperbole, lack of objectivity, overexaggeration.

Those who got it, nodded their heads.  They were there.  They knew.

Some things really don't change all that much.  Sure, back in the "old days", Bruce and the band rocked for close to four hours.  We left the shows, exhiliarated, exhausted, sweaty and riding the mother of adrenaline rushes.

So, the show Friday night was "only" two hours and forty minutes.  Yeah.  Only -- Two hours and forty freaking amazing minutes of non-stop music from the preeminent songwriter and performer of our generation and the most kick ass rock 'n roll band ever.

Don't bother arguing and suggesting other bands for the title.  I will never, ever change my mind.

The night opened with a a dark stage.  Bruce's voice rang out with, "This is for Danny."   A video montage of organist Danny Federici who passed away a couple of weeks ago played on the big screens, accompanied by Blood Brothers.  I wasn't the only one tearing up at that tribute. 

The lights came up, the band took off, and the power didn't stop.

The first time I saw Bruce and the band was in August 1978 for the Darkness on the Edge of Town tour.  For the first two songs, I sat still, awestruck.

Almost 30 years later, I had pretty much the same reaction and then I bolted to my feet, danced and sang along for the rest of the show.  It was almost fitting that they played several songs from the Darkness album -- including one of the wildest versions of Prove it All Night that I've ever heard.  If Nils Lofgren had exploded from the force of his own energy during his guitar solo, I wouldn't have been surprised.

New songs from Magic mixed with tunes from The Rising, The River, Born in the U.S.A., Born to Run, Greetings from Asbury Park.  The set list ran the gamut.  With such an extensive song list, it is impossible to sing everybody's favorite song, but Bruce added audience requests to the play list. 

Something new to me -- audience members bringing posters on which they'd printed song requests.  Several times, Bruce walked to one person or the other, took the sign, turned it around and showed the band.  Without missing a beat, they'd take off on the song.

There will always be one or two songs that I'll cross my fingers and hope to hear.  I do so knowing it might not happen and their absence won't ruin the concert for me.  (Nothing could!)  Still, when Bruce picked up one poster and the video camera zeroed in, I grabbed my friend Jennifer's arm and screamed, "It's Thunder Road.  Oh my God, they're going to do Thunder Road!"

Thunder Road is my all time favorite song and the one that made me a Bruce fan in 1975.  I was driving my roommate's car, WNEW-FM on the radio, on Ocean Ave and had just hit Deal Lake, heading for Asbury Park.  On a gorgeous fall afternoon, the soulful harmonica notes drifted out of the speakers and into my soul.  I don't know that I've ever been so profoundly touched by a song since.

In concert, there are some songs where the audience participation parts are well-known to every long time fan.  Bruce stops singing, motions to the crowd, and listens.

In Thunder Road, that part is:

So you're scared and you're thinking that maybe we ain't that young anymore.  Show a little faith, there's magic in the night.  You ain't a beauty, but hey, you're all right.

Watching the screen, I saw Bruce grin when we sang.  I knew just how he felt.  Thirty three years after he released that song, we ain't that young anymore.  But you know what, we still have faith and there's still magic in the night.

The performance capped what was already a stellar night, but the band was far from finished.  They ripped into Born to Run, lights up and the entire place rocking.  Then, to my complete disbelief and utter joy, they hit the opening notes of Rosalita.

Years and years ago, Rosalita was the ultimate encore song.  You knew, you just knew, that if the song hadn't been played yet, nobody was going home.  Over time, understandably, this classic Bruce tune hasn't been played live that much.  Apparently, they've pulled it out several times on this tour.  How I got so lucky to be at one of the shows, I don't know, but I'm fairly sure that I lost my mind to excitement at that point.

The concert went on for a few more blistering-hot songs before Bruce finally called it a night.  Ears ringing, heart pumping, I staggered out with the the rest of the crowd.

Over 30 years of fandom . . . 11 full length concerts . . . Bruce is, was and always will be the Boss.  We ain't that young anymore, but that man and that band will always be pullin' out of here to win.

Thanks, Bruce and the E-Street Band.

The Springsteen concert for Sunrise, FL was postponed until tonight.  I can barely contain my excitement.  I'm SO ready for Bruuuuucccceee.

Dogsitter arranged to spend the night with Nat and Pyxi.  Check!

Suitcase packed.  Check!

Hotel booked.  Check!

Driving directions.  Check!

Tickets.  Check, check, check, check, check, check, check . . .  You get the idea.

Even though I know darned well that I placed the tickets into my handbag, safe in the zippered compartment, I cannot stop myself from compulsively checking just to make sure.

What do I think could happen in the space of ten minutes?  They magically jumped out and returned to the kitchen counter?  Someone snuck into my closet-sized office, while I'm sitting here, and stole them?  I hallucinated and never actually put them in my handbag?

This is ridiculous.  The tickets are in my bag.  I know it.  I know it even as I unzip the bag to take one more look.

I am not obsessive-compulsive about anything else in my life except for tickets.  When I'm going off on a trip, I usually check multiple times that I remembered my flight information/e-tickets, too, but I've never been as bad as I am today with the Bruce tix.

Driving to work I wondered what possible reason sparked this need to check, re-check, and then check again.  I thought, "It's not like you've ever forgotten or lost tickets for a concert in the past."

Just a minute ago, I remembered something that happened back in the mid-80s.  As part of an annual subscription, I had tickets to see Mikhail Baryshnikov and American Ballet Theater perform at Lincoln Center.  Baryshnikov was dancing The Sinatra Suite, choreographed by Twyla Tharpe.  The evening was my gift to my mother.  We got to New York and I realized that I'd grabbed the wrong set of tickets. 

Sheer, gut-twisting, perspiration-flooding, heart palpitating panic.

Thankfully, since I was a season subscriber they had records at the box office and let me in -- but that was lucky.

I can't imagine the same thing happening if I got to the concert venue tonight (Three hours from home) and said, "Uh, we really do have tickets, but I forgot them in the Keys."

Whew.  Thank God, that won't happen because I Have the Tickets.  They're right there in my handbag.  Really.

Hmm.  Maybe I better look just to make sure.

Does anything effect any of you like this?

I met a woman yesterday who is in the fourth stage of cancer, with tumors in several areas of her body.  She's gone through chemo and is on medicine for pain management.  She knows that, barring a miracle, she'll die from this disease.

Until that happens, she has places to go and things she wants to do.  She wanted to spend time with her sister, so she flew to the East Coast from California.  She'd never been to Sanibel Island, so the two of them visited.  The woman loves animals and wanted to swim with dolphins.  So she did.

In the last six months or so, Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman made a movie called The Bucket List -- as in the list of things you want to do before you kick the bucket.  A few years ago, Tim McGraw released a song that reminded us to live like we're dying, to do the things we want to do and live whatever life we have to its fullest.

This woman's doing it all.   Her spirit is amazing.  After spending a little time with her, I have no doubt that she would have accomplished everything on her "want to do" list eventually.  Unfortunately, she has to step up her timetable because the rest of her life won't give her years and years.

You know, none of us knows for sure that we'll have years and years.  We have all sorts of reasons for not accomplishing our dreams and desires.  Not enough time; not enough money; nobody to do it with.  We're afraid.  We're too young.  We're too old.  Too fat.  Too something or other.

Tonight I'm thinking that there's only definitive "too" that should block us from doing anything we want to do.  Too dead.

I've never really sat down and made a bucket list.  I'm not fond of the idea.  I prefer to think of it as a "live life to the fullest" list.

I'm fortunate in that I've already done a number of things that I always wanted to experience -- but there are more.

Must.  Give.  This.  Serious.  Thought.

This summer, I'll get to check two items off the list.  I'm going to California for the first time and I'm determined to drive the Pacific Coast Highway.

While I'm considering items for my list, how about sharing some of yours?

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Tomorrow is the official return of author Brenda Novak's online auction to raise money for Juvenile Diabetes research.  There auction features a wealth of items -- most of which were donated by authors, editors, and agents.  There are fantastic things for writers, readers, heck, everybody.  Visit Brenda's website for more details and bid, bid, bid!  www.brendanovak.com