WTF - Cold vs. Cute

There's a light dusting of snow on the ground here on Beech Mountain. I'm sitting in front of the fire dressed for warmth.

We have a saying in the Melang house, "There's no such thing as being cold, just inappropriate clothing."

On Beech, we have a culture ware when it comes to the tourists visiting our mountain for the winter. There is a definite difference between being warm and being cute.

Being warm means you don't worry about hat head because you'd rather wear a hat.

The tight underlayer could show your "I've had two children" belly but it doesn't matter when that wind whips you don't feel it.

Your pants do make your ass look big because there's long underwear underneath them and a few pairs of snow socks.

No one can recognize you because everything is covered. I like to call this with my husband, the slow tease of taking it all off when we are home for the night. Usually, he's asleep by the time I get down to my long underwear.

Being Cute:

Walking through the resort in high heels. Sounds easy right? No, there's ice and snow on the ground plus all the gravel you pick your way through. 

Short shirts - have you ever had the wind whip up the skirt on a cold winter night? Especially if you are one of those free the asset types? 

Tank tops - tank tops are the perfect underlayer but when that's all you got, I'm thinking you're planning on showing off those puppies barking all night long.

I watched a poor woman tourist (from Florida) walking behind her boyfriend/Husband in that short skirt with the thigh-high boots that included a high heel. She had her hair perfectly done, makeup on and a short little tiger print puffy vest with a tight shirt and camisole.

What I actually saw was a poor woman who'd upper thighs were bright red from the cold. Her perfect hair was covered in snowflakes and when she tried to fix it in the restaurant it plastered to her head like a drowned rat. The short puffy vest didn't have pockets so her hands were between her bright red thighs for warmth. One spiked heel of her boot had scratches all over it from the gravel. BUT....her makeup was still perfect.

Just remember that on Beech Mountain we prefer warmth over cute, we prefer logic over hormones, we prefer moisture wicking over clinging. Come to our parties dressed for warmth and you'll have better luck with the guys as they don't see you as some crazy lady out in a short skirt is 12 degrees with a wind chill of 4 degrees.

Or do what all the locals do - a combination of warmth and cute. Walk up to the concert looking like the StayPuff Marshmallow Man in your down puffy onesie with snow boots and a hood that covers your beautiful hair but doesn't flatten it like a hat. Get inside and ditch the onesie to show off the shirt and top, change out of your moon boots to your spiked heels and dance the night away.

What's your preference?

Cute or Warm?

WTF - Frost and Laundry

I always think of the Frost poem when I do laundry:

And there are piles to go before I sleep.
Piles to go before I sleep.

Laundry has taught me many things:

Imaginary friends are real, seriously, because the amount of clothes I'm cleaning there are more than 4 people living in this household.

Clean clothes left on the floor long enough become dirty clothes, the dog has to cover up that laundry detergent smell somehow.

Children think wearing something once constitutes it as dirty, that is, until they start doing their own laundry.

Why buy a child a dresser when all the laundry stays on his bed until dirty.

There is a "5 second" rule to laundry, if you open the washer and the smell doesn't bring you to your knees, it's perfectly fine transferring the three day old laundry to the dryer.

When telling a child to do laundry you must include things like, "put detergent in" and "turn on the washing machine.

I seriously think a Mom came up with the concept of nudist colonies, a quick look at my body I'm fine with doing laundry as I continue folding.

The dryer is a magical Ground Hog place, you keep turning it on, forgetting the laundry, turning it on again, forgetting it again, turning it on again.

There is nothing sexier than watching a man fold laundry.

One of these days I'd love to say, "Dear Laundry, you're not attractive, I'm not doing you.  Love Kelly."

What has laundry taught you?