Veracious

I recently started watching "How I Met Your Mother" on Netflix Instant, making up for the last seven years I spent ignoring it. (Eventually, I'll get around to "Friday Night Lights." Don't rush me.)

I loved the way the show played with time, moving forwards and backwards and kaleidoscoping narratives (think Memento or Pulp Fiction) in a way that is my second-favorite storytelling trick. (First favorite: body swap.) Also, Jason Segel, Alyson Hannigan and Neil Patrick Harris are pretty reliably hilarious, even before HIMYM started.

Lunch

I think this is the last dress in my collection that I got from my grandmother.

If I come up with any others, you'll be the first to know. I do remember one piece with a greenish-gray, with line drawings of sailing scenes on it, but it was a) at least two sizes too small (and I don't go for "motivational" clothing) and b) peppered with holes that looked to be about the diameter of a well-fed moth larva, though it was definitely polyester, and I'm not sure how filling that is for the destructive little guys.

Against the Wind

Much as I love allover patterns, sometimes all you need is a pop.

In Dreams

Sleeping is one of my talents.

I'm very good at it. It takes practice, of course.

Peony Cache-Cache

My memory of this one isn't super-precise, either... I think I bought it in Buenos Aires?

My grandmother, who has been immortalized in these pages before, never talked about her clothes. I find this rule impossible to follow in my own life — obviously — but I do enjoy the aura of mystery in conveys, or rather would convey if I didn't treat every dress like an encapsulation of my own life story, complete with insecurities and indiscretions.

Sacapuntas

My mother's mother was the quintessential grandmother. She was a sweet woman who never swore, doted on all her grandchildren, took letter-writing very seriously and hostessing even more seriously. (She wasn't the sort to follow you around with an ashtray — that would be intrusive. But when we had grapefruit at the breakfast table, she would get up early to loosen all the segments in her guests' fruit.) She was born in Iowa in 1909. She was religious, but never ostentatious about it. She was what you picture when you picture a grandmother, and I don't think I'm biased here.

So I was really surprised to find this kicky little number among her things.

Excuse me for a second; this wig is all wrong. Yes, the spiraling black curls echo the pencil-sharpening-curlicues of the print...