Summer Skin

Summer is the season of change for this little seaside town; tourists in, military families out.

We retreat from the chaos of congested grocery stores and crazed traffic to our normally calm neighborhood, only to find it mad with moving trucks and awash in a sea of for sale signs. 

Both tourists and military families move like waves. 

The tourists have a shorter wave cycle cresting near weekend with a lovely trough early in the week. Tuesday morning traffic is treasured here, while Saturday traffic is something to be avoided altogether.

After a month-long parade of trucks and tractor trailers, the military wave has crested. Families are now trekking across the country and traveling around the world to their new duty stations while those of us who remain stationary marvel at the lull between departures and arrivals. The neighborhood grows quiet again, eerily so, and houses sit empty, waiting for the next wave at summer's end that will wash in families from across the country and overseas. 

This year's first swell of moving military seemed larger than in years past. Swept away are cherished friends and friendly neighbors. The month of May marked our sixth year in this house, six years and just as many waves of change and this is the first that has seemed so significant. 

In this lull between waves, I am hopeful, waiting with bated breath for a new friend that may move into the empty house next door, down the block or across the street.

I am always hopeful, still searching for that kindred spirit, but I'll settle for a kindly neighbor to greet with a wave and a smile and an occasional plate of cookies.

As these waves of change ebb and flow, the summer burns on and this year it is a scorcher. 

The blistering heat is punctuated with violent thunderstorms and accompanied by soaking rain making for some of the most humid air I've ever had the displeasure of experiencing.
My dry, hypothyroid hair loves it, drinking in every bit of moisture-rich air it can get its cuticles around, frizzing itself to high-heaven. In a humid climate, I suppose, frizz, like "dewy" skin, is something to accept and embrace rather than fight. 

Though I complain, at this point I cannot imagine living in a drier climate. 

As friends trek across the country to settle the desert of California, I can see myself, after seven years of acclimation to this hot, wet state, making the same journey and simply shriveling up and blowing away on arrival. 

my summer love-- lucky cicada earrings

In this season of change, I realize I am ready for a change myself. Though perhaps relocation to the desert is a bit too extreme, I find that I am finally ready to move-- a change of scenery seems like a nice idea, though the thought of packing up the house is a strong deterrent.

In the heat of summer, the cool, shady forests of my New York home call to me and the fertile soil beckons me to put down roots. Once this all seemed so inviting, but now I'm hesitant, I want to be rootless a little longer.

I want to be wild and free.

Outfit
Cicada earrings-- Etsy
Blouse-- Mrs. Bolton
Bra-- Saki Silver
Skirt-- Koret, thrifted and hemmed
Belt-- borrowed from Forever21 shorts
Shoes-- Brash brand, Payless
Lipstick-- Besame's red hot red

Hair
Co-washed/S2C with Mane and Tail
Shea Moisture Curl and Style Milk
LA Looks Gel Mega Mega Hold (yellow)
Plopped, root clipped and diffused

This blouse has been seen here on the blog before, though, thanks to Photobucket's recent policy changes, it cannot be seen here at the moment. After a decade of use, thousands of photographs now sit, held hostage, behind a $400 hosting fee. Sigh. I see lots of work in my future.

Anyway, back to the clothes.

This blouse is one of Mrs. Bolton's and likely started its life as a dress. It's missing components and is slowly deteriorating, but I absolutely love it and wish I had more in this style. 

I've always struggled to find the perfect thing to wear under my sheer tops. My cotton or silk camisoles always look and feel so cumbersome to me, and never quite suit the look I'm going for, so, exasperated, I decided to forgo an undershirt altogether. A bit risque, perhaps, but so comfortable in this unbearable weather and a wonderful way to show off the embroidered pattern of this blouse which I realize now looks a little like pot leaves (Mrs. Bolton, who knew?!).

Weight loss has not come easily to my hypothyroid body, but thanks to a pair of roller skates and more conscious consumption (and lack of appetite in part, perhaps, to my less than buoyant mood), I have finally managed shed a few pounds and I'm feeling a bit more comfortable in my summer skin-- why not show off a little?