The Rookwood & an Art Museum.

To date, we've been to a Bengals game, visited the Cincinnati zoo and enjoyed the "world famous ribs" at Montgomery Inn. Slowly, we're making our rounds in this new town. At my husband's request, we went to brunch at the Rookwood in Mt. Adams. The atmosphere was absolutely incredible. Old and rustic and full of charm. It's in an old pottery plant, full of kilns, exposed brick and wood beams. I'm only sorry that I wasn't able to take even more pictures (again, at my husband's request). We even treated ourselves to a  celebratory bottle of Italian sparkling wine (aka Champagne, just not grown in the designated area of France). Good news to follow, clearly not baby related, but good news nevertheless! More to come in a few months... hopefully :) After some eggs, hashbrowns and a more easily manipulated mind (thank you, champagne), I was able to convince hubs it was a good idea to visit the Art Museum. You see, it's practically a crime that we lived so close to those Rocky Steps in Philadelphia and never actually went inside, so I figure this is a small step (pun intended) towards redemption. Plus, after all of those books and television shows I've been engulfed in lately about the 1800's, it was even more fascinating to see all of the old stuffy portraits. Thank goodness for cameras!

Est. in 1802

"It is believed that a Parliament of Rooks is responsible for escorting
 souls to heaven & enacting laws of the natural world"
Old whiskey bottles - now used as water decanters

Aaaand now some non-Instagram photos for you...

Creepy crows, made not so scary by the amazing atmosphere

 Where will you go this weekend?!

Another version of me.

The other day, while trying to decide whether it was any semblance of a good idea to plaster a rather large photo of myself sans makeup on the internet, I realized with utter horror a huge violation of blogger code I am guilty of committing. I, amateur blogger, have failed to procure an adequate number of photos portraying my outfits, hair and/or makeup. Please forgive me as I send my most sincere apologies. Will ever you forgive me, my little beetles?

So, in an attempt to undo my rather glaring error, may I present to you...

Another version of moi.

ROSYRILLI.COM Another version of meROSYRILLI.COM Another version of me

ROSYRILLI.COM Another version of me

ROSYRILLI.COM Another version of me
Boots: Steve Madden
Leggings: Kohls
Socks: JCPenney
Sweater, which you can't see: F21

ROSYRILLI.COM Another version of me
Earrings: Macy's
Scarf: c/o my Mom
Mirror: Dirty, dirty, dirty

ROSYRILLI.COM Another version of me
My inability to take a respectable photo via mirror reflection, seen here.

ROSYRILLI.COM Another version of me

ROSYRILLI.COM Another version of me
ROSYRILLI.COM Another version of me

ROSYRILLI.COM Another version of me

Of course, you may now think my character even more questionable. But alas, judge not too harshly. A) It is none other than my husband's fault for having to work on a Saturday and leaving me to my own devices. Yep, just me, my camera and a four-legged witness. B) Dye was not used between takes. I promise my hair is the same color at all times. I think this might just be proof of my non-existent photography skills.

So there you have it. What I wore Saturday + me & my makeup.


Getting to know an (almost) makeup-less face.

Sometimes the mere thought of putting makeup on in the morning is enough to make me cringe. Cringe, yes. Avoid putting it on? Well, not quite. It's the silent signal that I'm ready to start my day. My mask. And it's become so routine that I don't feel quite like myself without it. How many times have I uttered an apology to my husband for not having applied my "face" yet? Too many; that's how many. If I'm honest, my naked face looks, I've always thought, a little sickly. Ironically, one of the only times I didn't feel this way followed a bout of sickness when I hadn't possessed the energy to apply makeup for a few days. I remember thinking, wow, my face actually looks...brighter? Ironic, huh? Not quite the thing you expect to see following an illness. The exact opposite in fact. So it got me thinking...what if I reacquaint myself with my makeup-less face? Maybe a few days "off" will do my skin some good. Can I still feel confident without it? Will I get used to going au-naturale? Will it look natural? It could become my mirror's new normal. We all know them. The ladies who don't wear much, if any, makeup and still pull it off. Could that be me one day? Ok, realistically - probably not, but who said it's not worth trying?

I'm all for trying. I don't work, after all, so I'm afforded the luxury of a M-F test without having to face an office full of co-workers. I am requesting one exception, however. Mascara. I simply cannot do without. Long black eyelashes are too feminine to give up and my barely-there light brown ones just aren't making the cut. If I sacrifice my concealer, foundation, powder, blush, eyeshadow and eyeliner... well, phew, I still think that's quite the accomplishment.

Could a cold splash of water and a wand of mascara be enough in the morning to take on the day? Let's give this a go, shall we?

Mascara - only.

Christmas comes but once a year...

All of the usual Christmas happenings are... well, happening. There's been a surplus of red and green cupcakes, holiday music and gingerbread lattes. All of the usual trimmings for this time of year. We also managed to snag a Christmas tree for $25 less than originally marked. 'Tis the season for negotiation! And what to do when you find your wallets empty of any cash to tip the nice gentleman who helped wrap your green-limbed selection? Well, a scratch off lottery ticket will just have to do!

We've also been partaking in those small traditions that are more personal to the two of us. Ornaments won't be hung until the popcorn and cranberries have been strung. And plastic, store-bought houses to decorate underneath the Christmas tree? Well I dare say not! Hubs and I have created a tradition of painting ceramic houses every year to create a more sentimental memory, an idea I stole from my own parents whose hand painted town was always a hit with my sisters and I growing up. And lastly, the pinky swear I made with my husband that every other year he gets to decorate the tree however his little heart desires. What does that mean exactly? For "my" years, it means vintage-like ornaments in gold and silver, small twinkling white lights and bows. My husband, however, has an affinity towards extra large multi-colored lights, candy colored canes, (hideous) strings of tinsel and a gaudy star to top the tree. Oh, lucky tree. But hey, a promise is a promise!