Three Things — Confessions
Three Things, my Wednesday post series, inspired by my love for bite-sized, tiny but mighty pieces of information.
One. This —
I have a bad habit, and have for years, of not owning basic items. Things. Stuff. I’m fortunate enough to be able to shop for things and own them as well. But I usually just don’t. Don’t judge. Just don’t, because we all have our own shit and this is one of mine and I’m fessing up. I usually don’t think about myself as a “haver of things.” Does this make sense to you? Me either.
I think it’s about deserving them. I’m making all kinds of progress on this and I’ll report back. But for now, let’s laugh for a minute: For example, socks. I don’t have anywhere near the number of socks you likely own. Or your friend does, or probably your Mom.
I have maybe three pairs of white athletic socks (maybe) and probably the same amount of black socks for boots, etc. It’s next on my list of things to buy so I can stop wondering every day if I have any clean socks or if I need to do an emergency load. Workout clothes? Same. Sports Bras? Same.
See the pattern? Me too. I’m currently in acquisition mode. But these items have to rock. Because I no longer things that don’t. I call THAT progress.
Two. I’m addicted to Instagram Stories. And I don’t give a crap. —
I am. But I’m also picky. I love a few with abandon.
Here are my current faves:
Busy Philips – I laugh out loud multiple times per day at her antics. But that’s not fair. They aren’t even antics. They’re just unapologetically her. And I laughed just writing that. Because it reminded me of her story last week while waiting for AAA to fix her tire. LOL.
Thing I love the most about ‘ole Busy – How real she is. Not in a jerk kind of way. In a genuine kind of way. Also, she seems to be, by all accounts, a good friend to women. I love that. Thanks, Busy.
Ann Street Studio – Jamie Beck is in the middle of a remarkable, personal renaissance. And we’re lucky enough to experience it with her. In Southern France no less. Her images are stunning. And I don’t throw the word around lightly.
Thing I love the most – Her artistry and grace and how it permeates through every morsel of her life. And of course all the places she visits and how she takes us along. Swoon all day and all night over her stories.
Heart Rome – Maria Pasquale is Australian born and raised, with strong Italian roots. While she grew up in Australia she always knew she would live in Italy. A well sought after food, travel, and lifestyle journalist, she frequently works with CNN, Condé Nast, and the Telegraph. Rome is her jam and her upcoming book I Heart Rome is a love note to her beloved adopted home.
Thing I love the most – Releasing November 1st, Maria’s book is a testament to working your ass off and overdelivering. Plus the woman KNOWS Rome. Inside and out and posts prolifically. Get out your map and start marking up your google map. I do all the time.
P.S. What about you? Whose stories do you love? I likely need them in my life.
Three. My Hairs. —
My hair is heavy and unmanageable right now. Meaning I don’t manage it. I just throw it up in a knot. But I’m remembering that tonight I have a business dealio to go to, sooooooo there’s that.
At the risk of inducing an eyeroll, I haven’t gotten my hair done in the States in three years, other than a trim. And I don’t want to. Here’s the thing: The Italians take “go to the place and get your hair done” to the next level, for a fraction of the price in the States.
There’s even a separate charge and a person that washes your hair. Not for five minutes, but for forrrrrever. The first time I had a shampoo in Italy, it was by a young guy and I legitimately thought we were having an affair over the sink. My head tilted back, his hands all sudsy rubbing my scalp. I got nervous and began looking around. Hahahaha
And so that’s what I want all the time now. The best job, for an awesome price. We all do, don’t we? We do. BUT, I better do something, and soon, because I’m not going back until January.
New status: Currently seeking recommendations. It’s complicated.