The Victorian Lady and Christmas Lights

I'm thinking...(I wrote this yesterday? but I'm posting anyhow)

There is a lady who lives in the town nearest to us who wears Victorian garb every day, and when I say Victorian garb I mean everything. You can see her walking down the street with trailing skirts and lacy blouses, her hair up in a large pompadour. She often carries a parasol and rides on a very old fashioned looking bicycle. Now, I’ll be honest and say that originally I thought this rather strange. You know, one of those odd quirks of people belonging to a little town (and this is coming from someone obsessed with historic dresses and hairstyles.)
I’ve been thinking about her a lot though lately, and found that I really admire her. If I found it strange, you can well imagine the looks she must get when she walks into a grocery store or something. I admire her because she really doesn’t care. She isn’t doing it to make a show, to go against society or anything of the like- she does it because she likes to. She feels comfortable in floor length skirts and heels that lace or button up past the ankle. She wears clothes like that because she loves them, and honestly doesn’t care about other people’s opinions.
Which I find really refreshing.
It is all too common for us to worry how we appear in other people’s minds. To worry about the impression we are making, or what is being said about us. When really the most important thing is to have a good opinion of yourself. Now I’m not saying that we should all live a Victorian lifestyle, indeed that would be most impractical, but I think we should care a little less about what other people think of us. I know that there are times when I feel like simply being happy and humming as I go about doing whatever task I’m at work with, and yet I stifle the hum because I’m afraid of the stranger walking past me.
It’s not that I hide who I am, and if someone asks me I’m happy enough to answer them honestly, but there’s still that part of me that wants to be invisible. That doesn’t want to stand out. I want to be less afraid of being noticed, because if you’re confident and happy with yourself that’s what is really important, and that’s a beautiful thing.

Outside my window...it's a lovely chilly day.

I'm wearing...A striped sweater and jeans and am wrapped up in a large blanket.

I'm reading...Jeeves and Wooster books by P. G. Wodehouse

I'm creating... Almost finished with my doll's dress.

I'm listening to...Christmas music, yay!

A picture thought I'm sharing...

 

 

My room all decorated with lights, doesn't it look lovely?

There's Someone in my Picture Files?

 

There happens to be a reason, a fairly good reason, in my own opinion, why I make Anne's 'baking powder award face' (as I shall from here on out call it) whenever I hear those words. Or rather, think those words, for when does one ever exclaim out loud, or hear someone else exclaim out loud, "There's someone in my picture files?" My awnser to you, is not very often.

 

This is because my picture files is a fairly interesting place to just 'wander through'. I'm not quite sure if you understand the seriousness of this undertaking. As Boromir would say (and the rest of us would quote) "ONE DOES NOT SIMPLY WALK INTO MORDOR" or in other words, my picture files.

 

If you do decide to enter, and I would strongly advise you not to, you might very well find Scarlett O'Hara giving you her finest kill-you-dead-with-one-glance stare.

 

What? What is Scarlet O' Hara doing glaring at you from amongst Emily's nice pictures, you ask? I must say, I have no good response. She just happens to be there, glaring the day away, right in the middle of ten or so pictures of vintage patterns. Of course, I must remind you, it really isn't her fault that she is always glaring so, her face is stuck like that. I suppose it is true what they say about expressions sticking, and not to hold your face in such positions. We have been warned.

Wandering down a little bit you will find my picture folders quite a happy place to be. Lovely flowers, pictures from Road to Avonlea, countless pictures of books advising you to read, and drink tea, and a couple hugs or so.

 

Which is all quite lovely, and gives one happy feelings that remind one of sunshine and butterflies and dancing about in a grassy field.

 

But then one glances down a little farther and finds Harry Lloyd staring at one like this:

 

 

 

And no one can help but stare back at him like this:

 

 

 

And really Emily finds herself with no explanation but this:

 

"He's from Robin Hood? Anwser your question?"

 

 

 

Which of course it doesn't, but I did warn you didn't I? My picture files is a dangerous place to be. What with Scarlet O'Hara and Harry Lloyd, not to mention Alice crying buckets of tears and multiple pictures of Rapunzel's frying pan. (I happen to like frying pans) Oh and there seems to be a cat and a dog in there somewhere, don't ask me how they got in! I don't even like cats.

 

 

I would also warn one that there is an abundance of pictures of thistles for some reason, there really must be a reason for those, though I can't think what, and if you happen to see multiple stranger's pictures don't worry! I'm just planning on drawing them one of these days.

 

To finish this off I would advise only entering my picture files with some smelling salts and a cup of strong coffee to refresh one after trauma. (but really, you know that after seeing Harry Lloyd, don't you? He's really who I ought to have warned you of. Here, have some strong coffee.) I really can't be held responsible now can I? I did warn you that somehow my picture files becomes the oddest place to be. That handy 'save picture' button, something really ought to be done about that.

 

Also. I would like to add.

 

 

Thank you. You have been warned.

 

*none of the gifs/pictures are mine, I'm not quite sure where most of them came from, if I find out I shall edit. Actually, the one of Allen could possibly be Mel's? (Missie, is that yours? I remember falling in love with the thing ages and ages ago. I could be wrong though and it isn't yours. *puzzles*)