Something wicked this way comes

I'm bummed I missed an opportunity to purchase this beautiful print. The arts community really put out some breathtaking campaign propaganda this election. So, in honor of the upcoming election, a busy couple of weeks, and internet issues at home, I bring you a list.

- I had a fun time as always with Miss Ravena this weekend. She once again helped a girl out and served as subject for her photoshoot.

- The art show is this Saturday and Sunday, so I've been keeping busy making sure I have everything that's needed (people's art, bios, signs, display materials) and my own art together. Stop by the Barn this weekend and check it out.

- Halloween is almost here! Costumes and decorating and imbibing...oh my!

- Next week I clock another year on my personal odometer. I'm excited for Harper's Ferry cabins and fire rings!

- DC Big Flea is this weekend. Anyone want to go?

- Oh! I also voted on Saturday! Stood in line for over an hour, but it was worth it. Hopefully I'll manage the political post brewing in my head this weekend. My own candidate side-by-side.

Rock-Scissors-Paper Food

I hate it when I get the idea in my head that I want to post about something less trivial than how I relate everything to Gilmore Girls. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that (1) I will not be able to do justice to what I want to talk about and (2) I will most certainly tire before I come close to finishing my thought. What I hate more than this, however, is deciding what to eat. I detest making grocery lists and honestly dread when lunch time rolls around. I can be found most frequently either skipping actual food and downing a Diet Coke at my desk or standing on the corner outside of my office building searching for some divine inspiration. I want to eat healthy. I do. I just have no idea how. I just want someone to pack up my meals each day and deliver me that health. I also have no idea how real people afford healthier stuff. It's hard to motivate oneself to spend extra money on healthy food when I can save money and spend that savings on things like roadtrips and etsy and art supplies. Seriously.

That said, there are a few things causing me to rethink my priorities. One of those is age. I'm not getting any younger, and every time my knees creak or I get winded going up a couple of flights of stairs my mind flashes to my grandmother. My health is important and will lead to my being much happier later in life. Yet another motivating factor is catching a flash of my ass as I pass my reflection. Finally, it's the belief that I can't continue to be part of the problem.

As I get older, I continue to narrow down my beliefs and values. Fine-tuning them to an inch of their life. I've come to believe that local is good. I've embraced the idea of the small. A recent clarion call by Michael Pollan to our presidential candidates, Farmer in Chief, in the New York Times Magazine pretty sums up my beliefs when it comes to food and the path I would like to follow. I want eat to consume less processed foods, preferably food that comes from my neck of the woods.

At the moment, I'm just at the 'want' stage, but I guess I'm hoping that by writing it out I'll hold myself more accountable.

Not a McDreamy in sight

I've been to the emergency room three times in 2008 with today being the third. I swear I heard the admitting nurses talking about naming a room after me.

As I sat there waiting to see a doctor, I began to worry that I might be a hypochondriac. I then realized that it can't really be true though. I hate going to doctors and hospitals and am definitely the kind of person who likes to wait until it gets worse or until I can't stand it. I waited days before going in for my infected thumb (stupid effing manicure place), and my labored breathing because of the kitties was apparent to all. Even today, I've had this poison ivy for almost a month. I even tried getting an appointment with a dermatologist today and was told by them "just to go to the emergency room".

I was a little annoyed with the doctor I saw today because she spent all of 45 seconds looking at and diagnosing me. I felt like I could have diagnosed and treated myself. Oh wait...I did. The visit was useful in that I finally found out why my record is flagged and why they now put a "contact precaution" sticker on my wrist band. Turns out that I had the MRSA (known as super staph?) strain of staph when my thumb got infected. The nurse said a bunch of people had died from it there for a while, and it was highly contagious. Gee...thanks for telling me months later. Guess the good news is that I don't have it any longer and that I lived. Haha.

We're not gonna take it

Twitter is a wonderful thing. Because of it, I was introduced to the interesting blog post by Seth Godin called 'Maybe You Can't Make Money Doing What You Love'. At first blush, I could feel my feathers starting to ruffle and the rebuttals forming in my meager brain. I have spent the better part of my adult life preaching the gospel of doing something that makes you happy when earning a living versus taking what the highest bidder if offering. Before I could get too far down this path, I decided I should actually read the post.

Godin puts forth an interesting premise. To seriously oversimplify his post, he contends that by focusing all of our energy on trying to make money doing what you love (he's speaking largely to those interested in creative fields) you lose the joy in doing said love by being forced to focus so heavily on making your product marketable. I was raising the roof at Godin's discussion of the ease in which people can put their art out there through venues like blogs, Flickr, deviantART, etc. and how people often mistake web traffic and popularity as something that can be metabolized into cashflow. The timing in my reading this was uncanny seeing as how I've been pondering the great lengths it seems a lot of bloggers are going to in order to make money. I'm not going to lie...at one point in time I had visions of landing a book deal with the girls from my other blog. We even entered into a marketing venture with a company that seemed a natural fit with us and our audience. It didn't work though. I found the more I concentrated on these things, the less I wanted to blog. I decided a while ago that wherever I was writing I wanted it to be for me. Something I was motivated to do. I like having the ability to forego blogging for extended periods of time.

Anyway, I've digressed. Godin's post is obviously one that will resonate with many in creative fields and has implications far broader than my little diatribe above. I suggest you stop reading this and go check out his post. He leaves you with hope, so don't stop until you've finished this quick read.

Gets my motor running...

These things get me kind of high. For the record, I want these.





















vintage royal typewriter <3

















Elsie Flannigan 'Abigail' Print




















Anna Sui goodness















...and a pink fridge to die for!

33 for 33

I like lists, especially birthday lists. I'll be 33 next month, so I've developed a list of ways to celebrate 33 years of life during the month of November!

33 for 33

1. Make smores
2. Take pictures of graffiti
3. Go to a "pick your own..." place
4. Leap for joy
5. Kiss someone
6. Submit an art proposal of some kind
7. Find a new photobooth
8. Try absinthe
9. Buy a new piece of art
10. Vote
11. Have Sticky Rice
12. Get up early enough to do my hair and makeup for a week
13. Day trip to NYC
14. Eat at Lotus again
15. Go thrift store shopping
16. Shoot a roll of film
17. Get a head start on the holiday gift season
18. Stay in a cabin.
19. Build a fire.
20. Take pictures of fall foliage.
21. Sleep in.
22. Eat chicken fried steak.
23. Make a list of things I'm thankful for.
24. Get the new Rock Band.
25. Make my grandmother a kickass birthday gift.
26. Finish knitting a scarf.
27. Practice patience.
28. Drink a glass of water every day.
29. Dance whenever the mood strikes.
30. Retire my flip flops for the season.
31. Try laughing yoga.
32. Write a letter.
33. Be grateful for even completing some of these.

Amber waves of grain and purple mountain majesty-type crap

As we were driving through the Oregon landscape this week, I was reminded how most states aren't made up on one kind of topography. For example, I had preconceived notions of Oregon being all mountains and green vistas. Don't get me wrong, Oregon has plenty of green mountains; however, it hadn't occurred to me how much drier the eastern part of the state was. I also hadn't thought much about there being much ag in Oregon. As we drove further east, we passed farm after farm, which brings me to my next thought.

Have you ever noticed that farmers don't seem to put much stock in the aesthetics of their property? Don't get me wrong...fields of cotton do indeed resemble snow, and the mathematical layout of green and amber crops can be beautiful and striking. But so many yards and fields are also littered with old, rusted farm equipment. Barns are usually a nice red, but farm houses never really seem to push the envelope. Think of all of the fantabulous colors that occur in nature. You didn't think artists and scientists just pulled these colors out of their asses, did you? This past week I saw a turquoise bug and blazing pink salmon. Can you imagine driving through the American midwest and seeing a cerulean blue farm house? The windmill could be fushia, and the barn would have sunflowers painted on the side. Farmers probably even have more freedom to be wild. They don't have to contend with annoying homeowner's associations.

In other news, I want to thank the state of Oregon for having the decency to be cold while I visited. Virginia, consider yourself on notice in regard to your weather.

I hate coming up with titles

It's 8am, and I'm sitting in a place called Kenny & Zukes across the
street from my hotel. Their schtick seems to be letting people have a $1
off their sandwich if you decide to buy a jar of one of the many jars of
mustard they offer. I'm waiting on my Challah french toast and side of
bacon. Definitely not my typical Thursday morning breakfast, but I'll be
in the field all day and am pretty sure lunch isn't in the mix.
Not much to report today. Yesterday was intense with traveling and
changing time zones. Once I found dinner in Portland, I pretty much
slept off and on from about 8:30pm to 7am this morning. Today I'm
outside of Portland checking out project sites and hunting up salmon.
Wish me luck!
--
Sent from my T-Mobile Sidekick®

Ragged

I have always been one of those people who carries or wears a beloved
object until either it falls apart or those around me beg for it to be
put out of its misery. For example, back in 1999-2000, I had this
favorite skirt. It was a black, floor length nylon mixture. I wore it so
often that I'm pretty sure it was paper thin. I'm killing my Mary
Poppins of a purse in much the same manner. Holes have been worn in its
bottom, and the straps are almost threadbare. I just can't give it up
though. It fits perfectly over my shoulder and always seems to expand to
carry just what I need.
I'm reminded of these things as I sit here at Reagan National staring
down at my suitcase. It occurred to me that I have an emotional
attachment to this suitcase. Even though the pop-up handle is bent and
requires a herculean effort to get up and the top strap has been pulled
off, it remains my suitcase of choice for most trips. This bag has
weathered many an adventure with me, whether it be a marathon train ride
to Nova Scotia or a simple flight throwing me into the political
trenches of a party convention. It still bears the scars of Thailand and
Taiwan where they tape your suitcase closed once you get through
security.
I guess you could say that once I form an attachment I have problems
letting go. Haha.
--
Sent from my T-Mobile Sidekick®

Our weekend starts on Wednesday

I should not be online right now. I should be in bed. Super Shuttle comes at 3:24am. Seriously, the only good thing about this is that it is going to deliver me to Portland, Oregon, a place that's been on my must-see list for eons. This means you're going to have to put up with posts full* of Portland love for the remainder of the week.

In the meantime, let me bore you with one of the things I'm excited about this October. I managed to finagle the opportunity to curate my first art show November 1-2. Don't be too shocked. It's at a really lame place. Of course, everyone has to start someplace, so I've decided I'm allowed to be excited about it. Gotta make sure the other artist submissions make it in and that the place looks good. If anything, this will also test my ability to focus and put together a few pieces of my own.

Ok, I'm boring myself, so I need to stop.

*Full might be overstating it a bit. You've bound to have figured out by now that I lose my steam for posting shortly after I begin.

In a family way

While I was watching Gilmore Girls today, I was reminded of family traditions and routines and left to ponder what stuck. What will I pass on?

Weekends always began in much the same way at my house growing up. As we got ready for bed on Friday nights, I remember my mom and my grandmother would always sit around the kitchen table in their floral and velour dressing gowns clipping coupons and compiling the week's grocery list. Sometimes I would join them at the table, listening to them gently argue over whether we needed eggs.

Saturday mornings were usually all about sleeping in for me. While I slept, they would get up at the ungodly hour of 6 or 7am and head to the grocery store. I always got woken up as they were leaving the house with the command to be up and ready to go when they returned. Once all of the new groceries were unloaded and packed away in our cabinets, shopping day could commence! First stop was always the Sunset Mall where we would methodically walk down one side and back up the either. J.C. Penney and Dillards were always stops during our strolling. We also made sure to go in Claires (I come from a family of serious earring whores). Our mall escapades usually ended around noon and was followed by lunch at a fine San Angelo establishment like Chick-fil-a. Post-lunch usually entailed errand type shopping where we would hit up both Wal-Mart and Target.

Have I continued these weekend traditions now that I live on my own? Not really. I'm a horrible grocery shopper and have rejected most of that kind of domesticity. And the mall? I think I must have wore myself out on malls during my younger years because my current mall philosophy is akin to a man looking to get his rocks off with a $2 hooker. Get in-get out-move on. Fall reminds me of one family tradition that has finally caught on in my world. Getting all holiday-centric and crafting it up. Halloween was always popular at my house. My mom would plan out our costumes and ensure there were seasonal goodies to deliver to my class. Now that I'm older it's me who's planning my own costumes and tooling around online for ideas to spook up the holiday.

Any traditions you're carrying on?

Superheroic

Have you ever stopped to think how amazing our own bodies are? It can perform its own repairs, withstand incredible amounts of pain, completely remold itself, and create life. We expect our friends Marvel and DC Comics to introduce us to our heroes, but we can do some pretty freaky stuff ourselves.

This past weekend I sliced my thumb. Two pieces of skin, gaping, with blood running down my finger. I slapped a band-aid over it for about a day. Earlier today I was sitting at my desk and looked down at my healing thumb. Like magic, my skin has stitched itself back together.

And the ability to create another human?! Think about it. How awesomely alien is that? Get two of us together with the right combination of sperm and egg, and we can grow things!


Anyway...just a bit of rambling. Some days it's just the small things that amaze me.

Memes past midnight...

One of the few memes you'll find on this here blog...mostly done because it was Terra that tagged me. :-)

1. I love reading and have a few favorite authors, but I don't really have a desire to actually meet the authors or go to their readings. I would make an exception for hott, male authors.

2. As I get older, I go through reading dry spells where I can't really get into anything. A lot of things interest me but few seem to stick.

3. I have this insane belief that I need to rescue books from fates unknown. For example, even if I don't read all of the books I accumulate right away, it's still my job to save those that look decent from potential obscurity. Future generations might need to rely on my collection.

4. My favorite bookstore used to be right around the corner from my office. It was reminiscent of a great movie bookstore. Small, cozy and lit with minimal lighting, this bookstore specialized in what it called literature. They carried things that other stores didn't have and managed to avoid many of the typical bestsellers. I was introduced to several new authors through this store. Did I mention the store had a cat?

5. For about a year, I seriously considered applying to the Johns Hopkins University writing program (MA).

6. Even though it doesn't exist any longer, this is still my favorite reading spot.



















I tag the world...and Scarlet and Randi.

And the rules are...

1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. Post the rules on the blog.
3. Write six random bookish things about yourself.
4. Tag sixish people at the end of your post.
5. Let each person know he or she has been tagged.
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.