Friday, February 29, 2008


"If you have poofy hair you have to be shallow because it takes so long to make it straight. People who have straight hair get to be above caring about their appearance because it's already perfect. If their hair was poofy they'd be shallow too. That's ok. I can be the shallow one."

- Bethy, my youngest sister

Bethy and I have always done battle with our hair. When we got haircuts as children the stylists would argue over which one of us had the thickest, or most troublesome, hair.

People always try to make a virtue out of not worrying over their hair. As Bethy has noted, it is usually people whose hair gives them no cause for worry. Here's the truth, when I don't do anything with my hair, which is often, it looks sloppy at best and 80s at worst.

My hair is neither curly, nor straight but it is not wavy as defined by the fashion magazines. There is no "rocker vibe" and I have never had "sexy beach curls". My ability to "style" my hair begins and ends with putting part of it up in a small ponytale. I cannot put it up in a high ponytale, barrets are useless, chopsticks frustrating. Small ponytales are my only recourse and if my hair is still wild they just make me look like a lost little girl.
If it's not straightened it's just messy.

"I know the pain of triangle hair!" - Bethy, in response to a Sunsilk Anti-poof advertisement.

My little sister's hair simply must be straightened every day. If not it is poofy, and I am convinced that a large portion of her confidence comes from knowing that her hair is shiny, straight, and staying where it is supposed to. It gives a certain stability to one's life.
I don't have my sister's commitment. It takes too long.

Which is why I was pretty darn excited to read about Sleek Memory in Lucky Magazine. It makes you hair smoother and straighter without having to do anything. The more you use it the straighter you hair gets. If you start to miss being messy (or if you started out with curls and want them back) you simply use a clarifying shamppo and you're back to where you were.

Pretty much amazing.

Thursday, February 28, 2008


Etsy has a lot of creative (read: absurd) clothing for sale. It always makes me think of some kind of sci-fi/fantasy world.

This girl clearly belongs on some underveloped planet in a Star Trek: Next Generation episode. Her people worship some weird diety/forcefield which is completely scientifically explainable and, coincidentally, vital to helping the crew repair their vessel.

She is headstrong and fascinated by/crushing-on one of the crew members. She wants to leave with them and explore space, but they convince her to use her fine leadership skills and curiousity with her own people.

This girl is a singer in a space age lounge. Not a main character - so her outfit doesn't have to be attractive, just weird.

This poor child looks like an escaped Cupcake doll. Toys were so weird in the 80s.

(I loved my Cupcake dolls - almsot as much as I loved my Merry Cherry Muffin dolls or my Strawberry Shortcake dolls)

Happy Thursday to You!

Recently the coat tree in the office was moved so that it is slightly behind my desk. This is frustrating because it gives people one more "reason" to stand behind my desk. If they hang their coat badly and it falls off they have to come stand behind my desk again. I just want them to stay on their side of the office.

Another habit in the office is to attempt convert signing of birthday cards. It used to be that we very cleverly waited until the coworker in question was at lunch, but the office manager has oh-so cleverly decided that it would be better to pass the card around while the person is in the office and that to hide it we will put it in a manilla folder with a post-it note that says, "For So&so's birthday!" So that even if the person would have been stymied by the secretive passing the folder - that goes to every desk but theirs - they can have the issue cleared up merely by glancing at the thing.

In the afternoon of the person's birthday we usually have a cake, half of which goes to waste because there aren't enough of us to eat a whole cake, we all insist on small slices, and we always buy an ice-cream cake and no one wants to take a half melted ice-cream cake home with them.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008


I missed most of American Idol last night, but I did catch one of the younger guys singing singing John Lennon's, "Imagine". Pretty song. Absurd lyrics. Randy, Paula & Simon love it.
Because the show is still in the multitudenous contestants stage, Mr. Archuleta had to choose only one verse to sing. He tactfully chose the third verse, which does not suggest the eradication of religion or absense of diety. Randy immediately jumped on that as the choice, but Archuleta side-stepped ridicule saying, "It's my favorite verse, it has such a beautiful message." Well alright Davey.

Who does the market research for this show anyhow? Randy might not know who makes up the main audience of American Idol, but I bet that Archuleta - hailing from Murray, Utah - knows exactly who that audience is. He sings beautifully, but his subtle edit of the song may have been just as important.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008


I was browsing online, because I do that sometimes, and I ran across this picture. It is entitled, The Soul-Killing Emptiness of Small Town Afternoons.

I agree that too much free time in a small town could, in fact, kill one's soul. I simply have no idea why the responsibility of for the soul killing is being placed on this small bird.

Other paintings (also with birds as their subjects) include, Brainwashing for Tweens, The Gradual Extinction Of Responsible Adults, and My Genial And Relaxed Countenance Hides A Startling Amount Of Naked Rage.

Clearly there is some unresolved hostility here.

Monday, February 25, 2008

amish clowns

The Amish have a weird sense of humor. These women placed an advertisement (with this photo) saying that if people wanted to bring a frown to someone's face, they could hire them and they would bring wilted flowers or a red happy meal (?). Evidently they did it once just for kicks. They guy got mad, but everyone else thought it was funny...and now they're running an ad.

Death in a Box

It's a box that counts death.

It can be set to count deaths that happen from smoking, or aids, or abortion.

It seems like an odd thing to spend $1,500 on.

I might send it someone I didn't like.


I didn't think about it last night when I was sore all over, but how is it that after a few days packed with a lot of walking, my arms are tired? It just seems wrong.

I've been incredibly tired, probably because most of my recent meals have been pure sugar.

Yesterday, was a really good day. I'm not entirely sure why it was good, but I think a lot of it had to do with having a lot of good conversations. So if I talked to you yesterday, thanks!

Cat Lady Update: We found out that the lady wants to make her summer home here, but she can't afford to buy land with a house on it. This explains nothing - unless she's planning on living in the barn with the cats - but we did find out that she's going to hire someone to look after the cats.

Can you imagine having that as your part time job? How would you even describe that on your resume? Oh - and the lady already had 6 cats rounded up. I have no idea where she's keeping them now (do we even want to know?) but evidently she's just waiting for the right barn to catch her eye (she's had several offers so far, but I guess they weren't good enough).

Saturday, February 23, 2008


When I was a kid, one of my deepest dissapointments was that I lived in a small town with no sidewalks. What kind of town has no sidewalks? When I was nine we moved to a city. Sidewalks galore. I was ecstatic.

Since then, I don't think I've been all that excited about walking places. It doesn't bother me, but why walk when you can ride? Lately though, I've been going stir crazy. I guess other people are too, because it's still quite chilly out and I saw a lot of people on my way to the coffee shop.

I really like walking in the city. Obviously the best part would be the sidewalks, but there's also so much to see. Store displays, 100 years of architecture, the atrocities people commit with aluminum siding.

Today I took a different route and noticed a church very similar to the one I went to as a kid. I loved that building - it was old and amazing. There was a big deal when we bought it because it had belonged to Methodists. As if the building would somehow taint us with thier theology. I was seven. I only cared that there was a great courtyard to play in and that it's downtown location lent itself to sitting on the doorsteps and handing out free lunches.

Walking past all those houses always makes me wonder about the people inside them. I'm not a people person, I probably wouldn't like the people if I met them, but I can't help wondering about them anyway. Curse of being a story lover - I always think other people's lives are more interesting than my own.

And now I'm back at "my" house and feeling much better for having spent a good part of the day outside.

Friday, February 22, 2008

All that

A while back the speakers in my car started getting scratchy. Since I can't afford to fix them I bought a discman. Technology has gone backwards since I was in highschool - the discman sucks.
I know, I could buy an mp3 player. I don't want one, I want to play my actual cds.
The discman came with "ear buds" which probably would have come with the mp3 player too. Not only do "ear buds" not stay in my ears, but now my ears are sore and infected.

So I can't play music in my car, which is driving me crazy, and I can't get Simon & Garfunkel's Homeward Bound out of my head, which doesn't even make sense.

I did order the little tree pendant yesterday. It was easier than I thought it would be because it's possible to pay through paypal without actually having a paypal account. I have a paypal account, but for some reason it doesn't count as activtivate - leaving me annoyed with paypal and all vendors who use paypal.

The girl who made the pendant e-mailed me because she was excited that I bought something and wants me to tell her when it arrives so that she can be sure it got there all safe and sound. It's cute.

Last night I came home from having dinner with Katie and saw that I had a letter on my desk. I tend to send out a lot of letters, but it's been a while since I've gotten any myself, so I was kind of excited. The person in question has never, ever written me back and yet in her letter wrote, "Sorry I don't write more often." ?

People do this more often than you might think. As if they can somehow muddy the issue of their non-correspondance by implying that they've written you before. Sorry, kids, it doesn't work. If you've not written just say you're sorry for not responding and follow up by lying about how you'll write from now on. It's not that I don't sympathize. I'm as terrible as anyone about getting things in the mail (I've been meaning to send my aunt and grandmother their Christmas presents for over a year now) - but if you must lie you should stick to lies you can pull off.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

I think that I shall never see...

Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

I think it's entirely possible that my regular readers have noticed I really love trees. So I was really excited about today's theme on Etsy. The blue trees are by CrutchfieldCreative. Sorry, Crutch, the trees are the only thing I appreciate in your store, but if I had an extra $100 lying around I would totally buy them.

I'm also a fan of this shirt, by Rabbit Stew, but only in aqua. The other one's just seem a bit off to me.
In any case, I'm much more likely to be sporting this sometime soon - since it only costs $22 and I need some new shirts anyhow.

I'm also a fan of this fridge art set by inmybackyard.

The slide mounts look oh-so modern and completely unlike the usual plastic tackiness of kitchen magnets. Plus, they've got pictures
of trees! How happy is that?

I really don't like the collection of patches also being sold by inmypackyard. And the other magnets are so-so.

But I do think that this random scarf is completely adorable and I would wear it any day, if I didn't have a policy against paying $22 for a scarf - but it's really cute.

Suprise Finds also have a ton of tree cards and photo prints. Very pretty. Very worth checking out (so click on the link).

However, my most favorite art object from the entire collection is by KeelyB, who makes lovely pendants (not all of trees) from small art, wire, and glass.

The featured pendant was quite nice with it's violet branches, but the one I adore is this little, red watercolor tree.

It's entirely likely that I will order this one before the day is out.

Lunar Stroll

Last night my roomy, her dog, and I took a walk so we could see the lunar eclipse. It was freezing cold and totally worth it. The sky was really clear so we could see lots of stars and a really gorgeous moon. I would need to own a superior camera to be able to bring your photographs worth looking at.

By the time we were done I couldn't feel most of my face. Surely I've lost my mind to be outside in subzero tempatures enjoying a walk and the moon, but I did.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

I have a magnificent lack of things to write about. I open my little blogger window and my mind goes - blank (if you've seen You've Got Mail, please imagine Kathleen Kelly saying this, it's so much better).

Sunday I found out that a friend of mine was pregnant. It's an extremely inopportune time, but I was happy for her. Monday I found out she miscarried and is taking it really hard. I never know what to say when people are hurting. Some people always know, but I have nothing.

Monday Robin and I went to Barne's & Noble and read. People complain about the large, boxy Barnes & Noble stores...but I think they feel like home. Maybe it's because they remind me of the library...with nicer books and more expensive coffee.

Tuesday evening I hung out with one my Jr. Highers. We've developed a tradition of swinging at the park. It was two degrees outside last night. We got a lot of stares from the people meeting at the senior center.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

This morning

I went into CVS to buy a 5-Hour-Energy drink. It was already obvious that I would not be making it through Tuesday without one. Or two.

When I got to the counter the cashier said, "I.D. Please?"
I was a little confused because I hadn't even reached for my debit card yet. For all she knew I was paying cash. She repeated it and I just felt more confused because she had to be asking for something else, but I didn't know what.

Finally she said, "I need to see your I.D. before I can let you buy this." I frowned so she explained that it wasn't her fault, it was policy that no one under 18 could buy that. It also applies to some over the counter drugs.

It's been a while since I've been carded for anything, I really don't think I look under 18 anymore, but I also think this lady was confused. I buy these drinks all the time - I go through the self-checkout at Kroger with them. They're just little energy drinks.

Once when I was in highschool some of my friends were carded when trying to buy some sparkling grape juice. They protested that it wasn't alcohol and that they could legally buy it, but the cashier couldn't see past the foil on the top of the bottle.
"It says Welches on it!" my friends pointed out in exasperation, "Have you ever heard of Welches making alcohol?"
Finally a manager was called, they were allowed to purchase the grape juice and promptly dropped it on their way home. It didn't seem worth while to go back.

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Rainy Day

I wasn't feeling all that well this morning. I've been a bit sick to my stomach and all week I've been dropping things when I've no call to be doing so. Today I dropped half a chicken-salad sandwhich all over my jacket. At least I don't have small children.

But, my afternoon was fabulous. It was warm outside and it was raining and I love both.
I got to read, I got to take pictures, and I got to talk to find out what my sister's cryptic message was all about (it was good news about a friend, but all my sister said was, "There's something about so&so that you need to know").

And then of course there was youth group this evening, which was enjoyable as always.

And I went to Target and bought some half price valentine candy because...why not?

Saturday, February 16, 2008

Uniquely Created

I spent most of my day today at a "creativity conference" at my church.

I have mixed feelings about it.

On the one hand, I now know how to knit...and that I suck at crochet. And I can pipe little stars onto a cake. It's not a skill I'll use, because I hate those little stars all over cakes, but I choose to assume that it's baby step towards masterpieces in fondant.
And I enjoyed seeing people that...I always enjoy seeing.

On the other hand...well...I'm not really sure why there is another hand, or what's on it.

Just cognitive dissonance I suppose.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Happy Valentine's Day

Ok, so my valentine's day celebration pretty much consisted of walking around taking photos and getting coffee with pink whipped cream and sprinkles, but it was still good.
I met a guy who thinks that because he and his girlfriend are both a little strange (he is a lot more strange than she is) he doesn't have to do anything special for v-day. He figured out pretty quickly that he was wrong. She didn't take well to his charming harrassment about her eating habits and later I could hear her quietly protest to some antic with, "Noooo, we're supposed to be doing fun, romantic stuff!"

And now I'm enjoying The Parent Trap - the one with Lindsay Lohan back when she was cute and sweet.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

The Breakfast Club

The only breakfast foods that I enjoy are nutritionally void. I tried oatmeal for a while, but it's gross and my coworkers were always telling me what it looked like I was eating, which was more gross. So now I have slim-fat shakes for breakfast. They're tastier than oatmeal, get me through to lunch, and they're less complicated...usually.

Well, I bought some more shakes the other day and I forgot them in my car, of course now they're frozen. Being the the bright person that I am I thought, oh I'll just set it by the space heater for a minute so it can thaw out.

Right...well a minute turned into half an hour and now I think I may have cooked what's inside the can. I could open it, or I could just be thankful that a coworker brought in chocolate chip cookies for the breakroom...

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Hollow Happiness

I ran across an artical called, Happiness: Enough Already!

It's a bit long, but kind of fascinating. Basically the idea is that we don't accept sadness as a valid emotion in America and that it's keeping us from being fully human.

You should read it.

Daily Amusement

I love that this girl thought to make a note card with an artery on front. Hillarious.

She has some other stuff, like embroidered hearts, as well, but I'm pretty sure none of them beat out the artery card.
Another artist I'm loving is Jen McCleary who combines real photographs to make imaginary lanscapes.

I think she's pretty darn brilliant.


I'm also loving the design of these pillows by Orange Flower, but I'm really sad that 1. They're velveteen 2. The underside has an ugly stripey pattern. 3. They're 60 dollars.

Highly amusing - this ceramic "Baby Face" tile, by Susan Kniffin Davidson.

By the way, I realize it's hard to tell with this set up, but there are links to all of these sellers, so if you love something you can get to it.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Weekend Adventures


I went to dinner with a friend. The friend had car troubles and so we didn't get to our restaurant until 8:30 - and we still had to wait 20 minutes for a table.

Said friend always takes an eternity in the restroom. I was amusing myself by taking photos of the salt and pepper, when the waiter came up behind me and said, "Should I even ask?"
"It's probably better if you don't," I told him, but then he looked really concerned so I said it was for a photography project and that seemed to make it better. Of course there is no photography project (unless of course I entered it in the art expo to illustrate "The Glory of God"!) but it seemed less unsettling than the fact that I take photographs of everything.

Then the waiter asked me what happened to my friend. All waiters think it is their duty to comment on the length of my friend's absense, as if I don't realize how long it's been. This guy is the first one to say something to my friend. Awkward & unnessacery.

I spent a good chunk of the day reading Od Magic, by Patricia McKillip. Excellent story. Actually, it kinda reminds me of some of the discussions Jon and I have had about the church, except for the church would have to be a school of magic and Jon would have to be a wizard and right, but there are similarities...really.

I went to RadioShack in the afternoon. My car speakers have started to die and I wanted to get a discman so I can still have tunes in the car. The salesgirl tried to sell me an MP3 player and looked at me like I was an idiot when I told her I like having the actual cds. Then she continued to try and sell me the MP3 player.
In the evening I went to see Bethy. We tried to find a Steak 'n' Shake and ended up getting lost because there were roads closed from flooding. We get lost every time I visit her. I cannot successfully navigate Ft. Wayne.

I tried to help her run some errands, but mostly we were met with disaster. I am pleased to say that we managed to get her some granola bars and some running shoes that do not look like they belong to our grandmother. The shoes were a happy coincidence. She wanted to look at Walmart and I made her go to Payless. Both places were duds. We happened to see a Shoe Carnival. Shoe Carnival is a weird little store with random sales that don't last very long at all.

Bethy found a pair of shoes she liked, but they were 20 bucks out of her price range. Well, I thought that since she managed to make her last pair hang on for five years that she deserved something she liked, so I offered to chip in the 20. In the end I chipped in nothing though, because there was some random five minute sale when we checked out and the shoes were 20 dollars off.

Church. Goofing Off. Church. We played charades in youth group. I wasn't thrilled.
One of the kids was taking pictures for photo team. I'm pretty sure they should warn the leaders before they do that...the other leaders seemed incredibly confused and thought the kid was just goofing off rather than on assignment.

I was really tired and uncoordinated (I dropped everything) all day. And really mad at the advertisers for the number of times they changed their minds. But Robin and I went to Barnes & Noble to read and have some coffee and that was nice. I read another Patricia McKillip book, Winter Rose. I love Patricia McKillip's writing. She's amazing.

Sunday, February 10, 2008

A Walk to Forget: An Anti-Chic-Lit

Meryl was not sad or scared when the doctor diagnosed her. Mostly Meryl was irritated. It annoyed her that the doctors wanted to make a fuss over it. She didn’t want medicines and check-ups. All she wanted was to live her life until the end.

There was nothing to like about the Meryl. She didn’t have a pleasant face or a pleasing figure. She wasn’t friendly or helpful. She did not like other people and was comfortable in the knowledge that none of them liked her.

So it was that when Meryl Harr learned of her coming death, nothing changed at all.

James Oliver and Heather Grant were precisely the opposite of Meryl in every way. They were friendly and obliging to everyone. They went out of their way to be useful to people. Everyone admired their attractive features. And neither of them was about to die.

Monday morning came and school went on in the usual way. Teachers taught, students ignored them, and everyone was relieved when the clock struck two.
After school the cheerleaders went to the gym, the nerds gathered in Gregory Munce’s basement, the do-gooders volunteered at the homeless shelter, and Meryl had to make a hard choice between throwing stones through storefronts and stealing sweets from small children.

In the end the decision was practically made for her by the lack of unattended children in the park. Storefronts it was; and a lovely day for it too. The looming clouds kept any would be witnesses at bay. She probably could have broken as many as ten windows, if only the first two hadn’t belonged to the homeless shelter.

James Oliver recognized Meryl as soon as he saw her face. In the third grade she had tied him to the flag pole with his own jacket on a Friday afternoon. It was early Saturday morning before he managed to gnaw his way loose. But while James easily identified Meryl as the culprit, when they filed their report it was actually the quick thinking homeless man, Phil, who had written down the license number and got her hauled into court.

Phil apologized many times for writing it down, after the judge sentenced Meryl to community service at the shelter, but James unselfishly shared the blame, knowing he should have kept his mouth shut about seeing her face.

Heather was excited about the opportunity. She believed this could be Meryl’s chance to change and how thrilling to be the ones who finally made her understand how horrible she was! She could practically hear Meryl at church, telling the congregation about her turning point and how she owed it all to the Heartland Homeless House.

Meryl was in shock. A three month community service sentence when she only had three months to live? It didn’t seem quite fair.

But life is what you make of it. Meryl optimistically took the thing as a challenge. She could quietly leave this world having unwillingly helped people for the last three months of her life, or she could make them all wish they were the ones with a fatal disease.

She broke dishes, bullied children, was rude to the volunteers. Soon Meryl couldn’t imagine how she could have wished to spend those last months in any other way.

Then one day the unthinkable happened. As she was screaming at an elderly man, Meryl collapsed. At first everyone simply watched the old man kick her, but when it became apparent that she was unconscious someone reluctantly suggested they call an ambulance.

“Don’t do it,” said James, “She won’t pay you back the money and her parents are even meaner than she is.”
“James!” Heather cried, “We have to help her, once she sees how we care even though she’s terrible, she’ll have to cha-.”
“I’ll take her in the Corrola, It’s still better than she deserves,” James said tersely, visualizing those chilly predawn hours in third grade.

And that was how everyone discovered that Meryl Harr was two weeks from death.
Heather was certain that the breakdown would come any hour now. Surely Meryl had a need to make things right before she died. Even James kept one eye open for a change.
Sometimes when they cuddled on his parent’s couch he would make up small changes so Heather would feel better.

“She didn’t trip Mr. O’Conner as much today,” James offered.
“Really?” Heather gasped.
“Mmmhmm,” James mumbled. He hated to lie.
“How many times less?” Heather pressed.
“Oh well, not many. It might be she lost count, but then again it mightn’t.”
“James, this is such a crucial spot. I really think we should pray for Meryl tonight,” suggested Heather.
James sighed, “A short prayer.”
“Jamesie, I mean, really pray. You know, instead of making out.”
James knew he’d been wrong to take lying so lightly. God was refining him now and he’d have to take it like a man, “Oh alright, I’ll start.”

The two weeks flew by the same as the ones before them. Soon Meryl’s time was gone and only her pale, chubby body remained. The day was sunny and sweet. There was no pastor and no mourners. There was only the young couple sitting on the grass by Meryl’s grave.

“It just makes you think how short life really is,” said Heather.
“Life is short,” James agreed.
They stared at the cheap plastic grave marker.

The caretaker didn’t approve at all of the young couple necking by the fresh grave. It wasn’t respectful to the dead. He should probably stop them. Then again, grief takes so many forms. Maybe he would just mow the lawn on the other side of the cemetery for a while. After all, life is short.

A word of explanation:

My sister, Bethany, and I were mocking "A Walk to Remember" and "Here on Earth" the other day. It led to a discussion about how cancer is used in stories. We're ok with cancer as a plot device, but we really hate it when it's a sweet girl with cancer (refusing treatment) who helps the rebel young man (who coincidentally has to volunteer at her place of employment to make restitution for his wrong doings) to realize he should change - as they fall in love. We find it repulsively sappy and absurd.

Bethy mentioned that she would like a story about a unattractive, mean girl getting cancer.
No redemption. No moral. Just death.

Friday, February 8, 2008

The Craziest Cat Lady...and other tales

Ok, so we just got a call from a lady in Chicago, who wants to advertise in our classifieds. She's looking for ½-5 acres of land with a barn on it. No house, she can't afford a house, just a barn.

And what she plans on doing is to collect these stray cats that are running around her neighborhood in Chicago, bring them to the Indiana countryside, and put them in this barn!

So we've been speculating about how this will work. Will she run cats down here (in her car?!) every weekend and dump some food for them? Will she live in the barn with them and care for them? Does she think they will just take care of themselves and not leave the ½-5 acres?

I said she should buy a house, dump the cats inside, dump some mice inside, and let the thing take it's course, but my coworkers didn't like that idea much.

I look forward to seeing how this goes down.

Another funny classified ran in someone else's paper, this lady sent in an advertisement to sell her Pinto. Well, somehow the paper accidentally ran it in the food section. She got about 60 calls from people about the ad. A lot of people were horrified, but about half the calls were from people who really wanted to buy horse meat!

Right now, I'm designing an ad for a product called "Cardio Cocktail" and I'm having a hard time mustering up enough restraint to not design it with a picture of a heart bobbing in a cocktail. A really hard time.

Six Hours

One of my favorite things about Etsy is that there's also something new. I really like these photographs from Six Hours.

Office Claustrophibia

In highschool one of my bestfriends decided she had "People Claustrophobia". Most of our friends were offended, but I completely understood. I need at least three feet between me and other people, as a general thing.

(friends and family are an exception, crowded seating situations are an exception - though I still need a chair between me an strangers or I will probably hyperventilate)
Unfortunately today finds me at my desk and a million people who keep crowding around it. I understand that my coworkers need supplies and that in some cruel twist of fate the supply cabinet was placed directly behind my desk. I understand that the pritner techs have to put their ladders right behind my chair to install the wiring, but that doesn't keep me from wanting to kick the ladder over. I don't understand why "Office Lady" has to keep coming over to explain her explaination that she has already written down for me, "This might be a little confusing, this here where I've crossed out these numbers and written in new ones, means that you need to replace the old numbers with the ones I've written in."
It doesn't really matter why these people are hovering around my desk. The only thing that matters is that if it doesn't stop soon I am going to have a nervous breakdown.
No, seriously, it has to stop or I'm going to chuck my monitor at someone.
Have happy sunshiney days!

Thursday, February 7, 2008

So sweet

I realize that as a single girl I should hate valentine's day. I know I should be doing something odd like dressing in black or something whiney like lecturing people on how it's just a "Hallmark Holiday" made to benefit the card and chocolate companies.
I've also come to realize that most of my acquantences expect me to roll my eyes and dismiss Valentine's as sappy and ridiculous.
I guess part of that is because I spent the first 18 years of my life hating the color pink, but I've always made an exception for Valentine's Day and as of late pink and I have sort been reconciled.

The truth is, I love Valentine's Day. It has a great, monochromatic color scheme, and I have never, ever had a V-Day go by without recieving candy, flowers, jewelry, stuffed animal, or all of the above. I always end up going out to dinner with someone, and I always have a good time. What's not to love?

True, most of my Valentine's Day gifts are from friends and family...but the only gifts I've ever gotten from boys have been terribly disapointing; from the fifth grade, when a boy gave me a valentine with a picture of a boy and girl kissing on it and I got in trouble for having it, to college when a guy sent me candy on Valentine's Day, after I'd broken up with him.
Note: I did not break up with him on V-Day, but an entire month before!

Plus, when you're dating someone no one besides your significant other is going to be buying you anything at all. When you're single people feel bad for you, and you get something from multiple people.

If you've got to be single, try to time it for February 14th.

on the wrong side

I desperately need to fill my gastank this morning. Unfortunately I didn't realize it till I was half way to work. I had to go back into town to get to a station, where I realize that the tank was frozen shut. So then I had to splash windshield wiper fluid on my car until it was unfrozen. The owner of the station didn't salt the ground, so it was one big death trap. On my way back I got stopped by a train and nearly run over by a semi passing a buggy. And of course I was late.

My day's pretty much continued along those lines.

I really want chocolate. All I have is celery.
If my children are ever as obnoxious as my coworker's child,
I will sell them.

On the plus side, Robin and I beat a really hard world on Super Mario, know...we're pretty happy about that. Yes. Pathetic. But it's all I've got at the moment.

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Photographs & Russian Spies

At work we've been without internet for a few days. Since these few days have been our slow period, this left me trying to stretch about 20 minutes worth of work over an eight hour period with absolutely no distractions.

Yesterday was all foggy so I suggested I go take some photos around town, in hopes of getting something good for the cover. My boss could tell I didn't have enough to keep me busy, so out I went.

Typically when I see a good photo there is no where to stop and park, so mostly I drive around looking at good shots and then I park my car at the nearest store, church, or cult lodge. After that I have to hike along the side of the road and hope no one gets mad at me for taking pictures of their store, house, livestock, buggy, or weird getup.

So I spent a good two hours hiking through the Amish countryside. I did this in July too, but it's a lot more pleasant in the winter, even with the snow and slush and flash floods.

Later I went to take photos of science fair winners at the elementary school. The evil photographer was there, but she was chatty and friendly, which has never happened before.

Usually she's content to look at my poor little point and shoot camera with all the condescension of someone who is never without their SLR. She works for a real newspaper. You know, one that people pay a subscription for? My boss always says, "You work for a magazine," but honestly that isn't very comforting when it's newsprint and gets set out at stores for people to pick up a copy.

When I run into people a lot, but never talk to them, I tend to make up personal histories for them. It's not intentional, it just happens.

So the evil photographer is in her 30s, and she's from Russia. Her complete lack of accent doesn't really help this backstory, but for the purposes of my imagination we'll assume that she can drop the accent at will, like Hugh Laurie.

She's an American Citizen (obviously), but her job at the podunk newspaper is a front for the fact that she has ties to the underground soviets who are clinging to the hope of one day ressurecting thier movement. Because she has to be able to put thier plans into action at a moment's notice, she doesn't have a family or even many friends.

Much more entertaining than the more probable reality that she graduated from the local highschool, has 2.5 kids, is divorced, and recently took up pottery, where she met a swell guy.

The other photographer doesn't bother to notice that there are other photographers in the room. His superiority is made known by the number of lenses he has available for his camera, which must have cost several thousand dollars.
He's probably in his 30s too, he wears his hair in a trendy ponytale to let you know at a glance that he lives in a clean modern apartment, refuses own anything but a mac, and only listens to Indi bands. He probably heads eco-rallies in his spare time. And dreams of moving to New York where he will expose the impoverished American's condition a la Upton Sinclair or Jack London.
This is the most probable reality there is for this guy. His life couldn't be anything else. There's no way he's married either, I'm guessing he has some immigrant girlfriend who speaks limited English and hopes to one day get married, but knows the photographer will never commit.

Monday, February 4, 2008

The roommate at I got up at an extremely unreasonable hour and went shopping in our PJs. Every year in Amish-Land there is a massive sale available only to those willing to crawl out of bed at 4 am and go shopping in their nightwear. It's entirely Robin's fault that we were part of that crowd. The best part was getting my amazing mango-danish-panini. So good.

I went back to bed at 8:30 and slept till 11:30.

Of course I watched the Super Bowl. I love watching the Super Bowl commercials, but unfortunately there were a lot of people talking so I didn't hear most of them. They didn't look that amazing though, unfortunately.

Normally I don't pay any attention to the game, but this year I had a running commentary by Katie and that made it a lot more interesting. I was even excited when the Giants won!

Erica and...her husband, whose name I do not recall, brought their kids. And to be perfectly honest my first thought was, "Great. Children." I tend to not enjoy kids until they're at least in the third grade, but Erica's kids are under five and pretty darn adorable. Even the baby who insisted that my purse actually belonged to her.

The oldest (whose name I also do not recall) wanted to know why I was drawing and could he draw too? I had to give him a piece of paper and a pencil. If I can't make it through the superbowl without a little doodling, how can I expect a five year old to? So then Kaitlyn (?) the middle kid, wanted to draw too, and I ended up just grabbing another notebook for them.

One of the many reasons why I dislike small children is that when drawing is involved they inevitably say, "I can't draw that, you do it for me!" Of course they can't draw it, they're four, their lists of accomplishments include standing upright and using the toilet. My actual, more kosher, but still wantonly harsh, response is that I couldn't draw that way when I was four either. If they practice hard they're be able to draw it when they're as old as me. It's mean, think about it.

However, I enjoyed Erica's two oldest, because neither of them did that. The boy just drew whatever he wanted and by the end told me he wasn't going to tear his last picture out of the book because the next drawing would be just good like mine and the girl asked me to show her and then gleefully made scratches that vaugely resembled mine. She was so spyched and adorably unaware of the disparity between our drawings.

At work the internet is down and has been since Friday. There was very little actual work to do, so I had to make some up. Mostly I made clip art. It's a little tiring after a while.

Then I drove home in the ridiculous fog.

Friday, February 1, 2008

Thank Goodness

I fought my way to work at the usual hour this morning. Evidently that was pointless, because I only ended up staying for three hours...and for an hour and a half of that I did nothing except talk to my coworkers.

It was a nasty day outside and a Friday one wanted to work.

So Robin and I bought pjs for the sale tommorow (you dress in jammies and go shopping at an obscene hour to get moderate discounts) and we played Super Nintendo and we watched Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Super Man. Not a bad way to spend a Friday.
I drew this when I still though I'd be at work for a full eight hours.

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