After all that griping about a string of pearls...

So at work this week, there's a gala. Well, not at work, but it's a work thing and we're all going. We're celebrating a honkin' anniversary, and so the culmination of months of planning is upon us. The gala, a symposium, picnics, concerts... you name it, we've been planning it. This is the kind of week you need to have a good night's sleep for. A lot of good nights' sleep.

Because of the black-tie-optional gala, there's just the tiniest hint of pressure over what to wear. I went shopping for "the perfect outfit" and had no luck the first two times, so the third time around when I found a floor-length dress that was beautiful and looked really quite nice on me, with a remarkable price tag, I bought it. Never mind it's sea-foam green and I would have to buy new shoes and handbag, instead of wearing the fabulous black beaded silk pumps I was gonna' wear. Plus? I was gonna' have to wear pearls. No choice on this one.

But I had my dress, and that's something. Seeing as how the event was less than a week away.

Then it started to really get to me that I would have to wear pearls. I mean, I design jewelry, people! You want to walk into a room with 800+ people sporting one of your own creations. If you're me you do, anyway. Just any old strand of pearls will not do - elegant, tasteful and classic as they may be!

So what'd I do? I went back out shopping last night after work. Found a pretty decent top (red and black with a pattern I can't describe so I won't, but it's just waiting for me to design something original to wear, oh yea,) and fun black palazzo pants. All set, right?

Um, have you noticed the clock? And the calendar? You have?

The Gala is Thursday night. 

Ask me if I've even started designing this necklace I just had to have, that made me go out and buy a whole new outfit when I had a perfectly good, er, gown which now has to be returned. Just ask me...