For the elegant southern lady

Some things are hard to figure out. I spent most of my brain power yesterday trying to figure out a vanity license plate I saw on the way to work.
Anyone have a good guess? It was: LITEWGT. The best I can come up with is "lightweight," but that's a stretch, right? I tried for a long time to turn it into something legal, but I can't. It would be interesting to have a vanity plate that said "litigious," though. You could be a complete dick on the roads, and no one would dare mess with you. I need to research if a bastardized spelling of it is available in my state.
So, yeah. Brain power, like I said.
In other cases, I feel my brain might too easily jump to conclusions, find entendre where perhaps none exists, and pervert otherwise innocent or classy things.
For instance, the other day, I was thumbing through one of the Responsible Lady Who Gardens, Decorates, and Practices Law in Coldwater Creek Suits magazines my parents gifted me for Christmas (as in: Maybe ditch the papasan chair, sweetheart. You're 32.)
I am kind of a magazine junkie, and this particular magazine is probably my favorite in its genre. (I know. Sorry. It's who I am.)
The changing of seasons always inspires the best issues of these magazines - seasonal recipes, decorating tips, what's happening in the garden, transitional wardrobe pieces to take you from this season to the next; from frumpy to fab; from overheated, 7 year old, dusty computer on a chipped, elementary school table you call your workspace to the dive bar where you drink a second-to-bottom-shelf beer to trick people into thinking you're of a higher economic class.
So, September is an exciting issue for the home-and-garden magazine. The editors throw some apples baked into something cinnamon-y and sugary, and I'm inspired. It's what's on the reader's mind.
This particular magazine does a lovely job with this:

Oh, this will be delicious! We should go apple picking this weekend.

Yes! I finally know how to dress like a proper southern lady-professional.

What a charming idea! I'm going to host the classiest tailgating party ever.

 Ah, yes. Food porn.

Inspiring! Maybe my fall garden won't be a lot of sticks in the ground surrounded by crabgrass.

I hate these ads. Before I really start reading the articles, I'd better rip out all these order forms.

I'll just crease this card and rip it out.

Wait.

It's not just me, right? Because I'm starting to feel like a failure as a lady and an intellect.