Il faut cultiver notre jardin.

How could I not share the shocking extravaganza of pinkness, flowers, and butterflies that is me today?

I couldn't. Because seriously, it's one of the cutest dresses I've ever seen, much less owned.

We are going to a fundraiser for a Senator tonight. Nick is wearing this beautiful, conservative, navy pinstripe suit with a nice crispy shirt, tie, and sedate cuff links. Which is the kind of thing I imagine most people will be wearing.

I'd like to assure you that I have along a pink shawl and red purse to wear with above outfit.

Short? Yes. Subtle? Um.

My last day in Amsterdam, Maude and I wandered into a store filled with swirly, whimsical color. She got a number of delicious dresses and skirts. As it was not a maternity store, I got this dress, which will fit for a bit, and another raspberry one, in which I look like a true and utter snausage. But it'll be fantastic sometime in the future.

So in the interest of sharing the happy pink garden of glee frock, I asked Nick to take pictures. And immediately was all, "Do I actually look like that?!?"

Of course he was all, "Sweetie, you look great!"

And then I had to harass him. Like, am I actually that big? Is my face that full? What about my ass? Look! Look at my ass!

He reluctantly confirmed that yes, they all are. Yes, my ass does this jiggle thing that it didn't do before. He was forced to say this, while I was poking vehemently at my butt cheeks, to alarming effect.

"Basically, Lis, you're very pregnant."

Sigh.

But with all that said, with those self-criticisms aired, I cannot resist sharing the pinkstravaganza. I believe Colleen would be proud.

Here's a front view. I like the accidental setup of the picture. Like I'm closing the door on the past and gazing forward, all Scarlett, into the hope and promise of a new day, one filled with fuchsia delights.

Also, I think you can see the crocheting around the neck and hem better in this one.

Or something like that.

Also, you please note the fabulously, fortuitously, matchalicious shoes.

They were purchased last year with the utterly lovely and shoe-shopping-enable-y Dagny Taggart. I loved them but was doubtful; she was highly encouraging of them. The practical shoes that I bought on that DSW spree? Rubbed my toes. I passed them on to Maude.

The fuchsia mules? Indispensable, it turns out.

Here they are as peered down on from above. By me.