My lovely friend is here for a visit. We were talking blog talk and she noted that my bad mood seems to be a recurring theme lately.

I was shocked when she said that, the same kind of stunned disbelief my mom had when I surprised her with the revelation that Liberace didn't like girls. That kind of, "I had no idea! Liberace is a homosexual?" jolt of a shock.

I took a look back at my blog and saw with "Liberace? NO Not HIM!" incredulousness that my friend was right. And in my defense, I have to say, I'm not an angry person. In fact, I'm usually the glass is half full kind of person.
I'm usually this cheery fellow hanging from the cross.



I'm not sure where the anger is seeping out from-but, I will try my best to be cheerier and brighter from now on.
Having said that, let's get on with the post.
So, there was this day a couple of months ago when I was in a really bad mood, I mean a black cloud, hanging over my head kind of mood. Nothing was going in my favor on this day and when that happens, shopping is usually the cure. But, I was in such a bad mood, I couldn't even shop. That's when you know you're in a bad place.
Anyway, my dark thoughts led me to the fact that Mother's Day was soon approaching. This put me in an even fouler mood because oftentimes, there isn't a lot of effort put into Mother's Day at my house which is kind of appropriate because mothers are the most taken for granted creatures on the planet. I don't see anyone else picking up the underwear left on the floor around here with nary a thank you! If someone else besides me picked up the underwear, I would weep with gratitude and it's not even MY underwear!
Now I will say, that My Hubby on other occasions is a wonderful, thoughtful man, but something about Mother's Day just escapes him. I'm pretty sure he's thinking, "she's not MY mother", which is going to have to be an anger-spewing post for another day. I might not be his mother, but he better never forget the pain and sacrifice I put in gestating and delivering his spawn, three damn times over. The stretch marks alone are why I deserve more than a freakin' card and breakfast in bed-once a year, gesture.
So, in my black cloud, already pissed about the gratitude I knew I would not receive on the Mother's Day that wasn't even here yet, I decided to do something I have never done before. I decided to take all the work out of the day and find my own Mother's Day gift for my hubby to express his appreciation of me.
And I did. I found this.


I spotted this necklace and was immediately captivated by its sweet charm. The Murano glass heart, swirling with gorgeous pinks and golds lifted me right out of my black funk.
I told my hubby and the kids about it over and over, again. And it wasn't too much of a surprise since My Hubby called me from the store, saying "Which necklace am I supposed to buy you for Mother's Day?"
And, that's OK, because it made me happy. Every time I clasped it around my neck it gave me a sense of appreciation, forced upon appreciation, but, I'll take whatever I can get.
But, seeing as I am who I am, I came to find a much better pleasure than simply wearing that stunning necklace. I derive a much bigger thrill from everyone's reactions when they ooh and aahh over it and I blurt out every time, "Thanks! I got it at Costco!"
That's right, Costco.
I love that, Liberace incredulous, "No!" or "For Real?"
And I nod enthusiastically and confirm, "For Real!"
I will clarify that it didn't come from an industrial size package of Murano hearts sitting on oversized pallets next to the vats of peanut butter and 40-pound flours.
No, this came from the glass case of glittering jewelry often overlooked as people wheel their carts right past it, the men distracted by the high definition TV section one row over and the women headed to the back of the store to see if there are any chocolate fudge cakes left.
And if you have not had a chocolate fudge cake from Costco, you are missing out on one of the greatest gastronomic pleasures of life. Even Oprah loves that cake and Oprah can have anything in the world her zillionaire heart desires and she chooses Costco chocolate fudge cake.
Remember this, Internet when you are looking for a little, pretty something to lift your spirits. Right next to the spice barrels and containers of vinegar so large, my daughters can not lift them to pour into their pot of black beans, there is a little Fancy in that store of home products for giants.
And even though, I am a girl who loves the Fancy, I am still the girl who loves to broadcast that my purses are fake, my tan, (when I attempt it) is from a bottle, my sunglasses are Tarshhay and my dress is vintage, meaning I found it in the back of my closet from the last time maxis were in style. Costco necklaces are my ultimate trump card. I couldn't be happier with the "No Way. That did not come from Costco!"
And when I wear it with the five dollar bracelet I bought for my girls from Forever 21 but then decided to keep for myself and my pink Cole Haans that are almost as old as my daughter, I am the Shizz of Fancy.



Now, all I have to do is steal these adorable, Payless shoes from Victoria and I'll be all set.


Today's Definite Download: Radiohead's "Fake, Plastic Trees," because I have those, too- even though it's a big decorating No-No and of course, they came from...Costco!
Seriously though, a beauty of a song and it is Radiohead. Pretty soon, you'll have every Radiohead song there is and you will thank my Costco heart, not my Murano one, but my real heart the one that adores Costco and all its Fancy.