Fifty Five Thousand Dresses

Okay all of you ladies (and sentimental gents), this one is going to make you clutch your hearts in romance induced glee. Paul Brockmann met Margot, the love of his life at a dance decades ago.  He decided that she would never have to dance in the same dress twice. Um...wow! That is why the Brockmanns now have fifty thousand beautiful dresses, most of which are up for sale. Their wish is to spend the proceeds on a night of dancing at the New Year's ball in Vienna.



Holy moly, y'all. The romance of this all is killing me just as much as those glorious dresses are. If you're in the Gardena, California area, they are having the sale until 3:00 today. It also looks like they are doing some online sales so do see the entire website with more of the story here at  55 Thousand Dresses and their Facebook page here and if you don't do anything else, do read the news article about the history of the dresses here. It's fascinating to me how Margot seems nonchalant about the whole situation and admits to wearing only a scant number of the dresses that Paul has found.

I think that one of my favorite bits of info about Paul is that he refuses dance offers from ladies wearing pants. That Paul seriously loves some dresses!  After realizing how few like Paul there are in this world, I'm thinking that it might be a good idea to check and see how far cloning technology has come...

Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha (who is super short on dresses, all things considered)

Mind: Officially Blown

Sigh. Ireland. I may never get over it. 
This is the view that we woke up to for two weeks straight. I mean....seriously? How do people even cope with this view?  
Some people feel rested and rejuvenated when they return from trips. I feel cranky and wanderlust-y (I know. Totally not a real word.) For those of you who live in Nashville, I think that you can understand when I say that the second that our car turned onto that God-awful Gallatin Road, my eyes filled with whiney-butt "gonna throw a tantrum" tears.  For those of you who don't live in Nashville, just imagine a scenario where cute flocks of fluffy sheep are replaced by disgruntled drivers...where beautiful ocean vistas and grassy hills are replaced by payday loan shops and dirty, vacant lots....where the still, silent evenings that come when you're teetering at the end of the world give way to the age-old game of "was that a gunshot or fireworks that I just heard?" Yep. Hello, Nashville. You can just bite me.   I know. It sounds totally ungrateful and stupid to say anything negative about being given the chance to take such a trip, doesn't it?  You're allowed to just ignore me as I come to terms with my urban, landlocked world again. Or if you live in Ireland, please consider adopting me. I'm great with sheep and my great-grandmother's third husband used to say that I was stout enough to pull a plow. I'm sure that we can accommodate each other nicely. 
I'm trying to wrap my mind around the whole thing and get some posts together about the  experience. If you ever get the chance to go to Ireland, say "yes" so fast that your tongue spins out of control. Trust me on that one. 
Until next time, x's and o's, Eartha
p.s. Your destination guesses on the last post were AWESOME.  

Adventure Time!

The Mister and I are getting ready to go on an adventure to an exotic land. Okay, exotic to us at least. I wasn't sure that it would really happen so I've just kind of been pretending that it wouldn't. But...it is!  I know - I just got back from a month-long internet break and haven't even caught up yet. I am so going off the grid this Summer, huh? I'm rolling old-school vintage and hard.

In the meantime, let's play a guessing game. If you're not one of the scant few who I've actually told about this adventure, place a guess! I'd love to see what your imaginations can conjure up!

Hint: Even though the rubber boots say otherwise, we're not going frog gigging or cow milking.

 I can't wait to see what happens - and to tell y'all all about it. See you soon, sugar spoons!

Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha