Up a Creek Without an Outfit

I hate shopping! Ok that is not entirely true, because I love getting stuff... I just hate fighting crowds, searching rack after rack, choosing between things I enjoy shopping for (necklaces and evening gowns) and things I have to shop for (sensible pants), weeding out the lipstick-stained items from the sale table, waiting for a fitting room-- and by the time I get to that stage in the process I usually have to use the ladies room, which no stores in Manhattan have (not that I blame them). It's a labor-intensive process that does not come naturally to me.

At our season-one wrap party last week the weatherman, the talent for the show I work on, made the comment, "You don't like to shop? But I thought all girls liked to shop." To which I replied (in my head), "I thought all weathermen are gay." But I didn't end up saying it outloud. And anyway, I was proven wrong when he hit on one of our female producers. I don't know why I brought that up. It seemed relevant.

I write this now, preparing to go to Mississippi for work. There are thunderstorms and river flood warnings in Jackson for the week I'll be there. I'm thinking I'll need a pair of perfect dry wick, light-weight cargo pants that do not need to be hemmed or otherwise altered. I'll need a breathable rain jacket with a hood, and comfortable shoes. None of these things can make me look like an old lady, rule number one. (Though that should probably be rule number four). The thought of starting the search for these items now give me hives. It's why my sister always says that one must be in a constant state of shopping. I probably tried on a pair of perfect cargo pants once and didn't buy, because I didn't need them at the time. And here I am-- cargo-less.
My next post will be from the road.