July 2, 2009
July 2, 2009
Hours to be ridden on the trainer today: 5 (final stage of the Tour de Trainer — to mimic Elkhorn Classics’ Dooley Mountain Road Race, one of the best road stages I’ve ever done)
burgers going to be consumed post-trainer ride: 1 (a big one)
dresses not to buy: 2
My favorites from my Shop it to me personal shopper today:
DVF Samson wrap dress
Ann Taylor sleeve tie-necek top, $19.99
June 25, 2009
June 25, 2009
Green soups in the refrigerator that didn’t magically disappear overnight: 1
Cats presently sitting on my lap: 1
Cats presently sitting at my feet licking their butt: 1
I’ve discovered a dangerous thing: shopittome.com. Dangerous only because I’ve got no money to spend on clothing right now and I’m now getting twice-weekly emails from these guys about items on sale 1) at my favorite stores 2) by my favorite designers and 3) in my size. It’s like my online personal shopper (they even call themselves that on their website). And it’s free. Stuff I’m loving from today’s email:
On sale for $25; most sizes still available.
Ann Taylor Reese Chain Thong Sandal, $29.99
DVF Ayana Jersey Sheath Dress at Nordstrom.com
March 11, 2009
March 11, 2009
Items of clothing I squeezed into a compression stuff sack: 13
Chicken Special paninis I ate at Betty Rock: 1
Calories wasted eating what is, unarguably, the WORST chocolate chipish cookie in the world: perhaps 400 (sorry Betty Rock … I love you, your lemon bars, your rice krispy treats, and your Dutch apple pie to death, but your triple chocolate cookie is the worst excuse for a baked good ever)
There are some crazy things going on in the Harder/Mishev household this evening:
1) I painted my own toenails for the first time ever. (One of the things I miss most about making money? pedicures.)
2) Thanks to Brian pretty much putting my bike and trainer under lock and key, I actually took a day off (well, not counting the hour I noodled on the trainer for this morning while watching a Tivo-ed Biggest Loser from last night).
3) I’ve decided to take this week off from my shot of Avonex rather than a) do it four nights early and then fly out at 7:00 the next morning, when I’ll still be in the throws of the Avonex-inspired “flu” or b) taking a shot with me and worrying about i) keeping it at the proper temperature ii) dealing with customs wondering why the hell I’ve got a giant syringe with me or iii) having to stab myself with a needle sturdy enough and long enough to pierce an elephant’s ass.
4) I’m nearly finished packing for Belize. I know, I’m usually a day-before-departure kind of packer, but, because of my memory-is-mostly-cottage-cheese-these-days thingie, I thought that perhaps I’d be less plagued by feelings of having forgotten something very, very important if I gave myself several days to pack.
But it’s not actually the fact that I’ve almost finished packing that is the weird part. The weird part is that I’m packing more clothes than necessary. I’m still managing to carry everything on in a 38-liter Acr’teryx pack (with room to spare), but, for the first time for, well, as long as I can remember, I’m packing little luxuries. Three pairs of workout socks instead of two? That’s crazy! Even crazier? Three dresses. Three! On top of two skirts, a pair of shorts, two bathing suits, and five tops. There’s even a cute sun hat in there in addition to my usual salty-with-sweat Exum visor. And both my prescription sunglasses, which are quite style-y as well, and a pair of purely for-fashion purple Prada sunglasses. Where is Dina and what have you done with her?
A little bigger than usual, but still very much carry-on-able. Think I'll go to some sort of fashion hell for having rolled up a Celine dress in here?
Would you believe I actually rolled up and crammed a white cotton Celine dress into the compression sack? And I’ve packed a jewelry bag! There is an extra pair of earrings in there (“extra” meaning in addition to the pair of gold-hoops I’ll be wearing on the flight down) as well as a necklace (small coral beads on thin black thread), and a jade ring.
And I’ve still got a day to go. Who knows what else I’ll decide to throw in there.
In case you’re interested in checking out where I’ll be sporting all these crazy things I’m packing, check out:
and, last but not least, Machaca Hill.
If anyone’s looking for some articles — or even blurbs — about Belize, let me know.
November 12, 2008
Pull ups: 52
Leg breakers: six sets
Cost per wear of the most beautif
ul handbag in the world (that’d be a blue-gray VBH leather slouchy shoulder number): $560
Bike miles: 25 (yes, a lackluster performance, but it was raining)
Without meaning to, a friend (who has an awesomely make-you-smile kind of blog of her own, www.pleasehappy.com) has me rethinking this whole blog thing. I’ve actually kinda been keeping three blogs – yeah, so maybe they have just been in my head — and it was just overwhelming me. Sports stuff on one blog. MS stuff on another. And don’t even get me started on house building stuff. Ohh – the wind is kicking up enough outside to be sending my bedroom curtains horizontal. I love wind. Awesome. And yes, I might be lying in bed as I write this. Even if it’s only 9:00 pm. The early darkness is really fucking with me this year. Anyway, so I was writing all those blogs in my head and then, when I would actually log on to wordpress, I’d find myself feeling very much like I’d imagine Tori Spelling would feel when given a copy of War and Peace and a week to read it. In its original Russian.
But my pleasehappy.com friend sent me something on Facebook a few days ago. I can’t remember if it was good karma, a plain old comment, a flower for my faltering lil’green patch, or a quiz designed to tell me what handbag I’d be in my next life, but the note accompanying it went along the lines of, “You’ve got this blog with the coolest illustration ever and a name that’s not totally horrible — but which you obviously put too much thought into – and you’re just slacking around and never posting anything.” (Some slight embellishment added.)
Ohh – more sideways curtains!
All right. Long story short. Rather than keeping all my potential blog blatherings separated by subject in my head, I’m going to keep it real — you can’t see my body movements as I just typed that line, but take my word that I engaged in no small amount of chest pounding followed by an arm entending with fingers positioned as they might be at a Van Halen concert. And what does keeping it real mean beyond my fancy finger waving? Well, life isn’t separated by subject, so, from here on out, neither is fleecefashionsta.
I started Fleece Fashionista not to be about me – seriously, I swear — but rather to engage (or inspire) women who like pull ups just as much as they like Prada, even if the latter isn’t always in the budget. I’m one of those women. But Prada and pull ups aren’t all I’m about. I’m about traveling. And making a fool of myself. And cookie dough. And Hugh Laurie. And a relatively new husband (who just so happens to look a bit like Hugh Laurie). And very often being one of the world’s biggest assclowns. And spending hours a week collecting ideas and sources for a house I desperatly want to build but might not be able to afford. And trying to get a nonprofit founded. And trying not to think that every little twitch or bad bike ride means my MS is getting worse. And spending an entire rainy Sunday on the sofa watching bad movies and brushing the cats. And mastering the ancient art of procrastination. And, well, just keep checking back in to see what else. I promise I’ll be posting much more regularly from here on out.
October 20, 2008
October 20, 2008
So I love my new town fixie (plum Surly Steamroller, one brake, and just overall super spiffy and hot) If only I could sell my Redline 925. Any takers? And any takers for the Wyoming Outdoor Council’s Ride the Red this coming Saturday, October 25? I really need to figure out how to turn this into a real blog. If you couldn’t tell, right now there’s no blog function. I’m redoing the page and reloading it onto the server each time. And the “archives” just stretch on forever. And ever. Must change. Anyone know how to turn this page into a wordpress and keep it looking generally the same? And does anyone know how to found a nonprofit? Lots of stuff going on. And a possible 109-mile Tour de Tucson on November 22.
Saturday night, I took myself out of the very limited subset of women who had not seen Sex in the City . I know, it’s amazing that one of my X chromosomes hasn’t been taken away for my having waited so long to see it. With the forced budget cuts in Fleece Fashionista-ville however, I knew it would be difficult to see all those fabulous clothes and shoes — but mostly the clothes – and know that the only new fashions I’d be sporting this season come from Smartwool. (Not that that is bad at all … I just got an awesome beat-around full-zip merino cardigan.) I want to know how Carrie Bradshaw affords that kind of lifestyle as a writer? She buys $600 shoes like I buy double espressos.
But even crazier that I went so long without seeing the movie? I only finally saw it because my husband picked it. You read that right. My. Husband. Picked. It. No, none of his anatomical parts have fallen off. I think some sort of scientist should look into this.
August 4, 2008
August 4 2008
I hate to admit it, but I’m at Starbucks for the second time today … and it is only just past noon. It’s not that I’ve suddenly come to like the charbroiled taste of their brew, but rather that I’m in Bowie, Maryland and there really isn’t anywhere else to hang out. I don’t know that I’ve ever spent as much time in Starbucks as I have the last 24 hours decompressing after the surprise celebrations for my parents 40 th anniversary. It’s kind of like another world — Starbucks, not marriage — or at least another country with its own language. I’m sorry. but where is a small coffee “tall?” And I think I just heard someone ordering some sort of drink that, in between its banana crisped French cinnamon toast-iness might have room for a bit of coffee flavor. But I won’t waste anymore time on Starbucks. I’m sure thousands of people have already tackled it.
More exciting than spending more time than I ever have in a Starbucks is that I have managed to take three whole days off from exercise, perhaps for the first time ever in my life (broken pelvises and torn menisci aside). My exercise addiction might be on a downswing. Although I did play some badass badminton — did you ever know this was the proper spelling of badminton? I always thought ‘badmitton’ — Saturday afternoon. And I’m not ashamed to admit I woke up Sunday morning with some (very) sore butt muscles and what, if I developed a fondness for regularly engaging in badminton, could develop into badminton wrist, the oft-forgotten younger cousin of tennis elbow. Evidently biking 20 hours a week does nothing for you on the backyard badminton court. And of course, even though barefoot, I still managed to get a ginormous blister on the ball of each foot. Does anyone else have feet that are as wimpy as mine?
Still sitting in the Starbucks in the Freestate Mall in beautiful Bowie, Maryland.
Did you know abalone have five asses?
Oh, I’m hiding from my personal shopper again. Mattie from Celine called yesterday and I was driving back to my parents’ house from the anniversary party. After having explained to her the last time we chatted — about three months ago — that I was building a house and my clothing budget was tied up in heated floors and a fancy gas range, I thought (hoped) I had heard the last from her … at least until some publisher realizes my book is the greatest travel guide to ever be invented. She’s just way, way, way too good at her job. Which was just fine and dandy when I had money to buy cute dresses and bags. But now that my checking and savings accounts together aren’t that far off from the model year of my 4Runner, I can have no cute dresses. I can’t even have any ugly dresses (not that Celine has any ugly dresses). So I can’t talk to her. Ostensibly she just called to check in on me, but I’m sure that by the end of our conversation, she’d have a minimum of four dresses and five bags headed to me on consignment. And with my ability to say no to a cute dress Fed Ex’d to my house all the way from Bal Harbour (that’s like a 2,000-some mile trip … I can’t just send the poor thing back without giving it serious consideration, can I?) even less than my ability to say no to a mostly-raw chocolate chip cookie or a 100-mile bike ride I think the safest way to protect my potential heated floors is to just not answer her calls. (I’ve actually got ‘Celine’ in my cell phone contact list … for those times when I used to have cute dress emergencies.) And then to not return her messages. In the spirit of contributing to the construction costs of the house soon to be in-progress, I’m not only crossing my heart and hoping to die that a publisher will go for my book proposal (if you happen to be a publisher, talk to Lauren Galit Agency) but I’m also clearing out my closet. So far however, I haven’t found too much of a second-market for fabulous worth-more-than-my-car dresses and bags. Anyone interested in some size 40 and 42 Celine, Valentino, Philosophy by Alberto Ferretti dresses and handbags, email me. Some items — a brown medium-sized Celine bag, a Valentino Garabaldi beaded fringe horsehair tote — do require the successful buyer to pass an interview. Email if you’d like to apply.
No longer at Starbucks in Bowie.
Because Girls Get After it Too 