The STUFF Sisters
S. Sloane Simmons and Casey Simmons
Sisters and business partners sharing life's stuff....
I wrote recently that I am pretty smitten with Instagram. Here is my second Instagram photo blog. These images are from our summer vacation to the beach in Florida. Sorry it took a while. My life kind of ran amok recently.
I wrote recently that I am pretty smitten with Instagram. Here is my second Instagram photo blog. These images are from our summer vacation to the beach in Florida. Sorry it took a while. My life kind of ran amok recently.
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It has taken entirely too long to pinpoint why I love vacations near the ocean. I am 47 years old and have loved the water my whole life. I have reverence for the power of large bodies of water but no fear of them.
It has taken entirely too long to pinpoint why I love vacations near the ocean. I am 47 years old and have loved the water my whole life. I have reverence for the power of large bodies of water but no fear of them. I love swimming and can find great solace floating on water or diving under and holding my breath. Oceans. Pools. Lakes. Streams. Waterhoses. Doesn’t matter. Water makes me happy and makes me want to be a part of it. (Except bathtubs. I’ve never enjoyed them in the least, and it’s probably just about the temperature. But I digress.)
I love water-based vacations because, if I plan my day well, I can wake up and go directly to my swim suit from my pajamas, and then, at the end of a water logged day, I can move gracefully back to my pajamas or another form of lounge wear that doesn’t involve any form of undergarments. Right there. The pinpoint. After 47 years.
I have never had to suffer under the daily strain of panty hose. I have never lived in an era where girdles were de rigueur. But I am fed up and done with bras and most forms of underpants. Unfortunately, they are a necessity at my age, and I do miss my “commando” days. I am, however, tired of being confined, and, for two weeks a year, I make sure “foundations” have no part of my life.
I am the queen of fashioning a cover-up for trips to the grocery store and casual restaurants. That’s what scarves, old cotton skirts, and T-shirts are for. This last vacation was on a beach, and trips away from the house had me sporting my favorite oxford cloth button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled way up over my strapless swimsuit with its attached skirt. That’s the whole outfit. (OK. The suit has one detachable strap, but I despise tan lines, so I save the strap for special occations. Like boutique shopping, because that demands a level of stylishness, for heaven’s sake.)
By the time I get to vacation each year, I have tired of feeling cooped up and locked down. And vacations, if done right, are about feeling exactly opposite. And, for two weeks, I am free as a bird and loving every minute of it.
p.s. These photos were taken on Anna Maria Island over the past two weeks. A trip off island to the fishing village of Cortez warranted the oxford cloth coverup and swimsuit strap you see here.
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Yep. It’s what I do. I truly pursue good stuff every day. On our recent trip to Colorado, I used one of our little buttons to remind me of what is fun and makes my life a bit more exciting.
Yep. It’s what I do. I truly pursue good stuff every day. On our recent trip to Colorado, I used one of our little buttons to remind me of what is fun and makes my life a bit more exciting.
And I also use these opportunities to brush up on my skills in the photographic arts with my Canon PowerShot SD1300 IS. I’m all over that sweet action.
This thistle and aster combination was lovely at breakfast. And tiny.
The rest stops in Kansas leave much to be desired. However, when you gotta go….
Right outside our room the day after the region’s first rain in a long time. This was one of many mushrooms that popped up and wilted by day’s end.
My son helped with the art direction on this shot. He was in charge of placement.
I loved the button against the texture of the bedspread in our room. Yes, we actually needed a bespread at night in Colorado!
I love to drive, and my husband caught this shot. I love how the turquoise in the necklace makes the pin seem bluer.
I’m a driving machine. The steering wheel was my friend for 11 hours over and 11 hours back.
Pursuing good stuff can take it out of me. But these three put it right back!
p.s. If you want to see last year’s Pursue Good Stuff pin on the road – once with Casey and once with me – click here and here.
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I have never really liked the “when life hands you lemons, make lemonade” saying. It has always bugged me, and it doesn’t sit right.
I have never really liked the “when life hands you lemons, make lemonade” saying. It has always bugged me, and it doesn’t sit right. I like a good motivational saying – my Pinterest board “Sayin’ Something” is full of them. But that one, not so much.
When life, parades, business and commitments stepped in a few weeks ago and blew the plans my family and my sister’s family had made for Spring Break, we didn’t pout; we just changed our plans. Well, the youngest among us cried her eyes out, but the rest of us remained relatively calm. We were to have skied in Steamboat, but, instead, we took a road trip to Dallas. See? Nothing like lemonade.
And it was fantastic! What a great American city. The night before we were to leave, I typed my new favorite combination into Google “boutique hotel in (choose city name)” and happened upon the Belmont Hotel. Just over the Trinity River from downtown Dallas, and the view from most rooms was unstoppable; the view at night from the pool was a picture postcard.
We did our part as tourists – and those who like to spend money with locally owned businesses – and stayed in a locally owned hotel, ate meals in 4 locally owned restaurants, and, visited two tourist destinations located downtown. The Dallas World Aquarium and The Nasher Sculpture Center have found happy homes in urban settings.
We left much to go back and see, but that has been the way we’ve traveled with our son. You must always leave one thing undone in a destination so that you always have a reason to go back.
The Dallas World Aquarium was nice. The best part was when my husband decided to call it a terrarium after we had walked through the three floors of animals, spiders, and cougars, and finally made it to the lower level…where the aquarium part was. The whole building was packed to the gills with humans – never the best way to view nature – so we paced ourselves and took it all in. However, there really wasn’t enough sea life to put aquarium in the name.
I live with a funny man, and every time I think of the aquarium/terrarium comment I smile.
Extras and details:
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For well over 30 years, I have driven past Bothwell Lodge and told myself – and my occasional fellow passenger – that I would visit some day.
For well over 30 years, I have driven past Bothwell Lodge and told myself – and my occasional fellow passenger – that I would visit some day. There was never time to stop on my mad dashes to my father’s lake house and its peaceful embrace. My return home on the Sunday nights of my past found me looking at it from the highway knowing it was locked up tight and holding firmly to its visitor hours.
Today was the day, however. We have had an amazingly lovely fall in Missouri, and a destination is always a good thing when you take off on a day trip with the ones you love. Even after sleeping in, the Bothwell Lodge was in our sights by 12:30 pm.
A friend of mine commented on Facebook, when I posted a few pictures, that he always imagined the King and Queen of Missouri lived there during his trips through this region in Mid-Missouri. The lodge does make that impression from the highway, but, when you get around to the other side, it looks like a large but quaint home. We took the tour from a young and informed tour guide who didn’t have to tell us that Mr. Bothwell wasn’t big on interior decoration. The furnishings were spare and ran to the utilitarian in most rooms. There were things to ooh and aah over – like the scale of the rooms, the wood used throughout the house, and the breathtaking views. The details in the home were what constantly caught my eye.
The best thing about today was being with the two people who love a road trip as much as I do: my son and my husband. We all needed a quick trip out of the city, and this fall day was perfection.
p.s. The Bothwell Lodge is a State Historic Site, and the grounds are even sparser than the interiors. Today the trees and their colorful bounty provided all the pomp and circumstance. We, however, provided the circus acts on the lawn.
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How extravagantly Bohemian eclectic.
I envision myself traveling by ocean liner to buy a huge collection of these pieces and then return home. On the way back “across the pond”, my traveling companions and I will sit in a small grouping of the furniture on the covered deck of the ship which was made by Dumond’s designs. We will smoke, drink, discuss literature, argue about politics, and remarkably discover the meaning of life.
PS…Find this incredible collection online at http://www.squintlimited.com/.
PSS…I couldn’t resist watching this video on youtube before I wrote this blog.
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I have been coming to the beach in Florida on average once a year for 9 years. I’m lucky. I have firsthand knowledge of the healing powers of the surf and the sun. I can feel it on my skin and in my soul.
Hunting for shells is a part of life on the island we visit. It juts out from the southern tip of Tampa Bay and collects some real doozies from the Gulf of Mexico. I have the patience for looking for shells, and I find the work cathartic. But I’m not good at it. I have been laughed at for what I bring back and what I find beautiful, but it rolls off of me and I care little. Shelling is a private endeavor, and others need not really know too much.
I have excelled at acting like Madame Cousteau as my son – once little and now not so much – brings me his bounty from the sea. I ooh and ahh and am truly transfixed by his luck in the shallows and on the sand. (Many years ago, I saw a comic in The New Yorker of a young Jacques at the beach. It showed his mother in a beach chair absolutely surrounded by sea life, shells and rocks. The artist had her saying something sweet and alarmingly funny – I have forgotten it, but the image has stuck with me as my son has aged.) This past week, he has brought me miniature wonders and large treasures.
And yesterday – just yesterday! – I realized why I’m not the greatest shell collector. Well, not the greatest collector of perfect shells…why I am drawn to all the shells that are imperfect and broken and damaged. The realization had me looking up from the “shell dump” my son and I were digging in and looking toward the incredible sinking sun as I caught my breath. It had come catapulting through time to strike me straight in the heart.
When I was in the 4th grade, my parents moved us from Des Moines to Kansas City. It was a wee bit hard to join a class mid-year and fit in. Well, I didn’t actually fit in for several more years. I was not chosen for kickball or dodgeball teams. I was not waved over to join a group at a lunch table. I was not picked first for spelling bees or vocabulary teams. It was tough. I was the new kid.
It was well into my 5th grade year when I met the young woman who has remained my best friend to this day. And even then, when she fell in gym and broke her forearm, I was blamed by others because I was near her and fell at the same time. I felt like I was the odd duck and the 5th wheel. I just knew I was imperfect in my classmates’ eyes – broken in some way I could not see in the mirror – and it left me a bit damaged for several years.
This brings us back to the beach and the bounty I carry away and into my home. I have jars on a high shelf in a guest room that house my treasures. I used to be a bit more anal retentive, putting dates and locations on the inside of the lids, but now I mix and match my catches. I will occasionally bring a jar down and place it on my dresser for a few weeks so I can marvel at the different shapes. I can admit to liking the pristine pieces that look like they were purchased at a gift shop, but I mix them liberally with the majority of what I own – odd shells, barnacled shells, broken shells, cracked shells, tips and fragments.
Today I found the shells you see, in the surf up-island from our beach chairs. I dug them out of the sand and clear water, looked at them briefly, and silently told myself to throw them back. They were still been held together by membrane, and one side was barnacled and off-colored, but the other side was nearly perfect and barnacle free. I held it for over a minute while contemplating how these two halves could still be together in the rough and tumble of the sea. One was perfect and one was not. Then, because I knew tossing would damage them, I laid them back gently on the sand in the shallows and walked away.
Ten minutes later, my son joined me where I sat after I had left the flats, and he showed me his many amazing shells, one of which was the pair I had placed back in the sea.
Oui, Madame était très contente.
Special note: a “shell dump” is a phrase my sister Casey coined years ago to distinguish regular beach from a section that had a lot of shells collected in it at the last high tide.
Translation: Yes, Madame was very happy.
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Here is the PURSUE GOOD STUFF travel album from my recent trip to Florida. My sister recently posted an album from Colorado. Like she said, life is about pursuing what is good, ALL that is good. Remember you are not passive…you can pursue good stuff today. That is my goal for the day.
I will pursue good stuff…today.
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I collect. I am not crazy-freaky and have display cases of Pez characters or anything like that. (I will admit, I love Pez and find them somewhat difficult to resist at checkout lanes, however.) But, I do collect.
I am picky. I don’t just collect items because they fall into a category. I edit and curate. I don’t seek the perfect, re-saleable or considered “collectible” items. I simply collect items for my own pleasure.
I returned yesterday from a summer trip where I was able to go “shelling”, which soothes me. It’s a form of meditation.
My finds will not be getting to me in Kansas City until mid-August and when they arrive I will get to discover their natural beauty – again.
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We all know how to push the buttons of the ones we love. We push them to elicit a response, to incite a riot, to ignite a discussion. You pick it. We’ve all done it.
I spent this past weekend in Denver visiting my husband’s family and catching STUFF’s new buttons in action in the Mile High City. I never pushed these little cuties on anyone, but they were a point of conversation with several strangers.
Here’s what Denver looks like when you’re 1-inch tall.
Just last week, Casey and I started placing jars of these little hotties all around Kansas City in our favorite locally owned eateries. They have been wildly popular, and as I was leaving one restaurant tonight – after refilling the jar – I was stopped and asked for 6 buttons. The woman wanted me to know exactly who would be wearing them – her sister, her mother, etc. We talked about them briefly, and she went on with her evening.
I guess that makes me a button pusher. We really are wanting to start a riot, elicit responses, and ignite discussions. To pursue good stuff is to look for what’s good in life – emotions, foods, places, things, people, charities, events, you name it – and flourish there.
p.s. I need to thank my trusty assistants – my husband and my son – for their help with the camera when I wasn’t wearing my readers. For clarification purposes only, I’m a Tanqueray girl and the Smirnoff bottle was found by my nieces in the courtyard of our B&B. All contents of the mini bottle had been previously consumed.
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