Wear Your Heart on Your Sleeve

Is there a greater classic American clothing staple than the white button down?

All together now - no, there isn't.

Mr. News Readin' grew tired of me stealing his and I grew tired of the too big proportions. And then I stumbled upon Claridge & King - the perfect white button down paired down to a woman's proportion.

Image courtesy of Claridge & King.

My shirt arrived, complete with monogram in Avery Script, on the cuff. I wear it all the time...over leggings with a cardigan and ballet flats on a plane, belted with skinny jeans and of course - to bed. It one of my best purchases ever.

Images courtesy of the News Readin' Archives.

Just in time for Valentine's Day - they've introduced a pink version.

Image courtesy of Claridge & King.

And a new monogram option with an open heart and single initial. Love it. Or put his monogram on your shirt. *Wink*

Image courtesy of Claridge & King.

Even the ticking stripe pouch they arrive in are pure perfection. FYI..be sure of your measurements. They can run a little big.

I consider myself quite fortunate to be married to man who finds white cotton shirts sexy. (Shhh...he thinks I bought it for him.)

xoxo,

Mrs. News Readin'

A News Readin' Wedding Belle

Mr. News Readin' s sister called us Friday night to share some exciting news - she's engaged!
We are so happy for her and her sweet fiance.

Mr. NR and my mother-in-law have gone into full wedding planning mode. We are averaging about two phone calls a day, and probably an email or two off my radar.

It looks like an early fall wedding and Mr. NR wants to make sure it doesn't interfere with:
- SEC football watching
- Sweeps - the time of year when news stations make big deal out of things like garbage collection and city employees using their city-issued cars to road trip it to Tunica. News readers are not allowed to take any time off during these months - no exceptions.

And me? Well, I'm keeping a low profile until my assistance, advice or attendance are requested or required.

I did pick-up my standard newly-engaged gift for her.



From Mottahedeh.

One was given to me when I got engaged. Reading it every night before I place my rings in it, just makes me smile.

I hope it will make our Wedding Belle smile, too.


More at 11.

Developing Story: New Year's Resolutions

Mr. News Readin' is a big fan of the New Year's resolution.

He asked me two weeks ago what I was thinking mine would be this year. I responded ever so sweetly, "Seriously? I'm trying to find a free shipping code for Orvis. Go investigate resolutions elsewhere..." Sometimes timing is not his strong suit.

Anywhoodle, he brought it up again last night. The conversation went like this:

Mr. NR: "Sooo...what's your resolution this year?"

Me: "Not sure. Maybe improve my conversational Spanish*."
"And yours?"
*Attending September wedding in Jerez. Donde esta la biblioteca? Not gonna cut it.

Mr. NR: "I'm trying to remember what last year's was....oh, right! Run a marathon.**"
** He jogs occasionally. For approximately 2 miles. Maybe.

Me: (insert hearty laughing)

Mr. NR: "Damn. That one really got away from me. "

Me: "Have you run 26.2 miles collectively - as in all year long?" (insert more hearty laughing accompanied by tears)

Mr. NR: "Maybe. Probably. Hmph."

And, scene.

Not sure why I was laughing...I'm teetering on a 13 lb weight gain during 5 years of marriage. (It's not as easy as it looks, this whole maintaining girlish figure thing, thankyouverymuch.)

He has a 32 inch waist, can still fit into clothes from high school and would most definitely look better in my Old Navy lounge pants. Ugh.

After much contemplation, he climbed into bed and announced his resolution for 2009:

"I think I'm just going to refrain from drinking dark liquor on Tuesdays."

Ahhh...that's more like it.


Now back to your regularly scheduled program.

Ridiculous Gift of the Day

There are tons of classic television shows that have proved pop culture inspiring; I Love Lucy, Happy Days, Murder She Wrote (trench coats sold like wildfire during the height of its popularity), Gilligan's Island, Three's Company. Hell, even Little House on the Prairie provided fond memories and a Halloween costume or two.

But, Knight Rider? Knight Rider?




A friend's husband requested a Knight Rider GPS by MIO for Christmas.


It has flashing red lights on the sides, just like the KITT car. And...it will give directions in the original KITT voice.

She thought he was kidding. Man, is he going to be disappointed.



Washed up television star with an inordinate amount of chest hair - not included.


What's the most ridiculous thing you've seen this season?
Do tell. I could use a little humor this morning.


We'll continue to cover this late breaking story...

For Mature Audiences Only

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for this special report.

The scene: City K grocery store - Checkout line #6
The witness: Yours truly
The crime: "Holy smokes" inappropriateness courtesy of Cosmopolitan magazine

There I was...ready to breeze through "How to lose 50 lbs. by breathing and eating cake!" in everyone's health bible (First magazine), when I spotted the December issue of Cosmo.



Damn near blinded by J. Simpson's ample bosom, I blinked a few times to make sure I was reading everything correctly. Sadly, I was...

1. Total Body Sex.
Reallly??? Multi-tasking Americans everywhere have been practicing Partial Body Sex? This whole time doing laundry, yard work, vacuuming and enjoying the company of someone special. How inefficient am I?

2. Sexy vs Skanky.
Hmmm...Cosmo, I think one should refrain from weighing in on such a discussion when one is wholly skanky.

3. How to Outsmart a Date Rapist.
So you are providing tips to attract super hot guys and 15 pages later outlining how to hoodwink any that are degenerates and violent. Nice messaging. Stick to sexy vs skanky. Let Marie Claire handle the more serious topics. K?

4. Your Orgasm Face.
Gross. How desperate are you for content? Ugh.


Has Cosmo always been this ridiculous or am I just showing my age? Not to mention - Children can read. Children accompany their parents to the store and wait impatiently in the check-out line. Even though I am not a mother, I would be furious if I had to explain "orgasm face" to my nine year-old.

If we wanted to be visually accosted by an ample bosom splashed across a cover, promising the keys to keeping your man happy...well, we know where to look:




Nothing makes Mr. News Readin' happier than a bowl of chili. Hot, sexy, turkey chili.

Take that, Cosmo.

We now return to your regularly scheduled program.

W.W.B.W.W

What Would Brian Williams Wear?

As far as fashion forward anchormen go...Brian Williams was rockin' the purple power tie well before the rest and obviously is fond of the self-tanner. Yum.

W.W.B.W.W is the super fun game we play on Sundays around 2:30 pm. That's when Mr. News Readin' starts asking about a clean white shirt and what ties he should festoon to be everyone's favorite Sunday night anchorman.

I don't mind that he seeks counsel regarding his attire. I'm flattered he appreciates my keen eye for what will read well on camera...but I just wish he would not ask me while I'm:

1) Catching up on DVR'd Oprah
2) Catching up on blog reading
3) Window shopping on the interwebz
4) Planning our weekly menu (Old El Paso Gordita kit, Weight Watchers Key Lime Pie yogurt)

I remain stationary during the entire exchange and shout out suggestions, while Dr. Oz tells me that I'm rotting by body from the inside out because I don't take fish oil supplements. (Whatever. I prefer lobster.)

Which leads to the real issue...his tie cycle.

Make no mistake, Mr. News Readin' knows exactly when he last wore a tie. It's insane. I'll suggest (shout) the Ben Silver blue and gray tie and he'll say, "No, no, no...I wore that two weeks ago when I did the story on slowing fireworks sales."

"Mmm, that's right." (Inside voice: Who has two hours to work out - Gwyneth Paltrow?!)

This man keeps his ties in color order on a rotating rack. Once a tie is worn it moves to another rack and is worked back into the rotation in a timely fashion. Three weeks is the minimum gap between wears. In my estimation, he owns 100 to 150 ties. Seems excessive, but I guess if he played professional basketball I wouldn't care how many hi-tops he owned. (I especially wouldn't care if he had a $10 million deal with Reebok and his John Hancock on the shoe. Anchorman endorsed tie deals just don't seem to be as lucrative...)

The organization and cycle of the tie-wearing borders on an Israeli military operation. Take no prisoners and never deviate from the plan of action...It amazes me. This is the same man who doesn't understand that pulling the laundry out of the dryer and wadding it up in a basket is not the last step in the laundering process.

And to complicate matters, he has new school clothes en route. Just like you may have gone shopping for white polo shirts and khaki pants to outfit your little ones, the News Readin' Husband ordered three new suits for the school year. Semi-custom. Because that's how he rolls.

This presents a whole new set of W.W.B.W.W. moments...because it always goes back to our on-air fashion inspiration:


And while we're at it - shall we take stock of Mr. News Readin' and BW's similarities...

Luxe locks
Natural looking bronzer
Stellar styling (obvi...)
Good at reading the news

Oh, fair Brian...your days in that chair are numbered.

Waxing on...

There are people that you have such a deep connection with that you simply cannot imagine life without them. For me those people are Mr. News Readin', my BFF Hilary and Anka - my waxer extraordinaire. Oh, and Tim Gunn.

WARNING: If you are of the male persuasion the following post will cause heavy wincing, groaning, sucking of air through clenched teeth and down right TMI overload. So, quit reading if lady-scaping is not a subject of interest.

If Mr. News Readin' is persnickety about his hair, I am downright Black Panther fanatical about who waxes me.

Being a New York girl and a Catholic schoolgirl to boot - I didn't waste any time learning the art of lady maintenance. I've been getting my eyebrows waxed since I was 16. (Thank God I had the good sense to get these squirrels under control at an early age.) The natural progression for those who wax their eyebrows is to tend to their nether region in a similar fashion. First bikini wax - 17.

I know...it sounds like I was massive tramp. Well, I was.
JUST KIDDING. I just like keeping it all tidy.

Back in the day I would go into any old nail or hair salon to get waxed. Until, I met Anka, a lovely Czech woman at BLISS 57 in NY. I was there for a facial, standard eyebrow and bikini wax. When it got to be that time to clean out the Flower Bed - she wanted to know if I wanted a landing strip.

Ummm...could you just make it that if I have an emergency trip to St. Bart's - we're all good?

Before I knew it, I had agreed to a landing strip and my first brazilian. I went onto become a fan of the inverted triangle, but you gotta start somewhere.

Brazilians are one of those things that if you knew how excruciating the first one was going to be, you would NEVER-EVER agree to get one or the very least let them do both sides.

Half-naked, on all fours, allowing them to slather hot wax reeeeaallly close to your Flower. Oh, and you are going to pay them to do it. Once you go there with a waxer - you're as close as you can get to someone without a hangover and the hope of avoiding them at next year's sales conference.

When I married Mr. News Readin' and left New York, I think I cried more about leaving Anka than my family and friends. I had no idea how I was going to deal. Solution: my garden would have to be maintained on a bi-monthly basis by taking the JetBlue red-eye from Denver to JFK. It was the only option.

Mr. News Readin', although appreciative of the maintenance plan, did not think going to New York to tidy things up was cost effective. He told me to find a spa in Denver that does brazilians. So, I drove three hours to have wax poured on me by a perfect stranger.

There I am, in a stupid paper thong and some teenager walks in carrying a pot of wax.
Our girl, then proceeds to tell me she has never had a bikini wax. Wait? What? Never had a brazilian? Nope. Never had a BIKINI wax.

Peace Out. Seriously. I hopped off the table and told her she could do my eyebrows while I watch like a hawk in a handheld mirror. But, I'll be damned if I was going to let her ruin what my Eastern Block angel had created down there.

It took a few trips back to New York and a visit to a trannie/stripper/aesthetician in some effed up looking salon in Denver to keep me "in order" that first year. When we moved to the City in Two States, I found a Canadian who had worked in Vegas, and did a decent job. Her skills still paled in comparison to Anka's. She did however introduce me to this:




No Scream Cream. It's kind of messy, but if you are a massive baby (like yours truly) it takes the edge off. Vitamin Xanax and a glass of Pinot Noir has a similar effect - but we don't want them to have to break out the smelling salts to get us off the table. So, go with the cream.

It's time though, to find someone in City K who will never measure up to Anka.

I've canvased a few Junior Leaguers to see if anyone had any recommendations. The looks of shock I received were amusing.

"You get a brazilian?"
"Yep."
"Doesn't it hurt?"
"It sure doesn't tickle."

Needless to say, fruitless. So, I'm going to drive to a city about 2 hours away, to visit the waxer to that fair city's finest strippers. (They obviously know what the hell they're doing...) And don't ask me how I found this waxer. I'm the wife of a newsman. I've got sources.

Speaking of the Mr. News Readin'...if he's lucky maybe I'll get a heart-shape for our anniversary...

Stay tuned.

This just in...

The News Readin' husband and I are on the verge of our five year anniversary. I thought to celebrate this milestone in our marriage, that I should share the joys and shear bliss of being the wife of a hard hitting reporter/anchorman. Oh the glamour! Oh the perks! Oh he-alllll, no.

I have been had - hoodwinked - bamboozled, even. You see, dear reader, six years ago when I was living the dream in Manhattan hocking fancy yellow diamonds to Egyptian oil magnates and he was cute boyfriend pursuing a dream, the news business sounded exciting. Matt Lauer, Brian Williams, Shep Smith...you get it. Reporting live from the Vatican or perhaps running the London bureau for a while. Then the first on-air job came. And my massive reality check.

The western edge of Nebraska. Oh? Never been? It's stunning there this time of year - with all the swirling dust, blinding sun and tumbleweeds. But, I digress...

Looking back, I think cute boyfriend - now husband, was looking for a little company in the vast expanse that is Western Nebraska. So, I became Mrs. News Readin'. Eight months of hard time served in the Cornhusker's state - with the closest real city three hours away.

Four cities and three states in five years. We've lived in City K for a year now and in a couple of words - I'm adjusting. Not well and certainly not quickly.

So this is the beginning of a nod to the past - surviving a Nebraska winter at 20 below zero, learning that NASCAR really is the most-popular spectator sport firsthand and knowing that the phrase - "You ain't from these parts - is ya'?" is not a compliment. While figuring out the present and hopefully making somebody nod their head in agreement or laugh out loud.

Oh, but plenty of time for all that...the first entry is for thanking the NRH for the journey. It has definitely made me more fun at cocktail parties, an anomaly at the grocery store and the only one in my entire family who has ventured out of the confines of the Northeast. That's right. This born and bred New Yorker married a nice boy from south Georgia. Needless to say, no one at our wedding spoke the same language - but damn - they drank through the confusion.

So, NRH you will probably never read this, because the "interwebs" are for pedophiles and indie rock bands (neither of which he is - I might add.) If you had told me it would be this much fun on our first date in 1998, I probably wouldn't have believed you. And I would have ordered dessert.

Mrs. News Readin'