Jessica Ashley facebook twitter babble voices pinterest is a single mama in the city, super-savvy editor, writer, video host and shameless shoe whore.
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Entries from June 1, 2008 - June 30, 2008

Monday
Jun232008

Finally, the Solstice.

Sunset Solstice crept in this Saturday, pulling back a summer that has been sleepy and slow to reveal itself. But it is here now, finally and officially.  After a bitter winter with lots of snow and transitions, almost nothing feels as good as the sun, a few beers on a restaurant patio, watermelon on the porch and working with my feet in the kiddie pool.

Every year, I feel some pull to mark Solstice reverently. I've walked the labyrinth with other women at church. I've done my own quiet rituals burning sage and setting out stones with words I've written on them to set my intentions for the new season. I've been quiet and still and I've celebrated the evening rocking a sleeping baby in my arms on the porch while the sun sunk and the kids in the neighborhood shrieked and the downstairs neighbors grilled and clinked bottles of Zywiec.

This year, I meditated, flowed, posed and chanted Solstice in at a yoga workshop designed around the setting sun.

Like every yoga class I've ever been to, at the last minute I thought about not going. And like most times, I thought again and went anyway, winding my way to find the new studio where my former yoga teacher is now practicing, hurrying to find a semi-legal parking space and then wiggling my way into a space just big enough for me and my mat. After all that thinking and re-thinking, rushing and then stretching out in my little corner of the room, I breathed. Deeply. I was there and it was good for me to be there.

The sun streaked the room orange as we moved from pose to pose. I was hesitant to join in the chant thanking the sun god pulling us in, but the Sanskrit words were so lilty and the room echoed with our voices in this lovely tone.

As we neared the two-hour mark, I started feeling antsy. I had plans for dinner and I wanted enough time to put on lipstick and heels before I dashed out the door of the studio. And as I thought about skipping out early, my teacher started talking us through the last few minutes of our final relaxation. She said something about welcoming patience, about being gentle with ourselves and about renewing our investment in being whole and fulfilled women. She was talking to the class in her soft voice, but she was speaking right to me.

I breathed in and out again, deeply. I looked up at the small, round paper lanterns that dotted the dark room like stars or planets or little suns. I released and let the time and tasks and next thing go.

It's summer now, no time to rush or huddle or worry about falling behind. It's time to stretch out and feel the sun, to take better care and mark the season with both stillness and fire.

When it was over, I was off and into different clothes and to another place where I would sit outside and eat and drink beer until late. I was there then, and that was good for me too.

So the Solstice, once again, was marked for me. I feel ready and relaxed for all these months and all the little illuminations-- and if I can go with it, the sun god -- will bring.

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Friday
Jun202008

This is not a shoe blog: Because in order to stop talking about knockers, I need to talk about shoes

The rain clouds have cleared and the sun is calling me away from my laptop. Or at least, away from my work on the laptop. It's Friday, so that means a happy hour of shoe perusal will light me up more than a pom mojito and hefeweizen chaser.

And why not? My work today has centered on posts about bedtime routines, Mischa Barton's cellulite, sunscreen and getting your roots done in a timely manner -- how much more demanding can my day get? Clearly, it's time to knock off the hard work (not to mention the knocker talk of previous posts) and end this week once and for all. So, on to shoes and to four foot-focused questions that have really been on my mind this week:

Goldsandal First, with the birth of Jamie Lynn's bundle of love and adorably inevitable dysfunction, I'm wondering what flip-flops y'allses are wearing this summer? You know, around the $3 million crazy compound or park or trailer park or whatever. I picked up five pairs that are cheap, cute and can be trashed recycled as easily as any Spears sister (oh snap).

 
Playboy_2Second, no matter how cute they might be, is there any way in hell you think you could feel good about wearing Playboy brand shoes? Is there any little possibility -- no matter how cute -- you could wear these wedges without feeling like you also need to apologize incessantly, get a Brazilian and then take a long walk on the beach while enjoy your favorite thing, the smell of fresh rain?



Rerunshoe Third, in the words of the ever-articulate Jessica Simpson, "Oh. Mah. Gaw." It is official (this is me talking now, not that other Jess), Re-Run from What's Happening officially comes in a shoe. Or will in the next few days at a muffin-top-XXXLowRise promoting teen retailer near you.



Jessicasimpsonshoe Fourth and final and speaking of Our Lady of Romance and Inappropriate Fathers, how is it that she's so not good at singing and stuff and still makes such sweet, sweet shoes? You do think she  produces all her own preliminary shoe sketches, don't you? Don't you? (How long do these lovelies need to whisper my name before I finally allow them to come home with me and live on my closet floor?)

Now you stomp it out: What shoe snark are you pondering today?

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Thursday
Jun192008

Just one more post about boobs. Swearsy.

Boobman I'm not sure if it is some kind of boob divinity or coincidence that I've been so focused on breasts here on the interwebs (right, like this is a new thing) and Lil E has moved his focus northward as well. Whatever it is, it is officially the way in our cozy little home.

Or at least it has been in the last week. Soon, I am sure, his boobcentricity will go the way of Elmo, off to some lonely corner where stuffed animals and Thomas trains and (God help us) pacifiers collect dust and await the arrival of other expensive child things that you've hunted down in Target and airports and grandma's house fourteen times too many. For now, though, where it's at does not include eye contact.

Lil E has not only noticed boobs in general like some three-year old epiphany, he's (erm) seemed to notice mine.

I know, I know. This is weird.

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