12 things I'll never wear

Rules are meant to be broken.

I don't discuss fashion much on this blog - probably because I since I work from home, I dress for comfort and not style. Also, because I don't think yoga pants are considered fashionable. But with all the the cute new clothes out for summer, I've been thinking about how to spruce up my wardrobe and get rid of the clothes in my closet that go unworn year after year.

There are some styles out there that I'll never wear and some things I wish I could wear, but have to accept they just don't work for me. What trends do you wish would just go away (for me it's anything with words printed on the butt) and what fashions do you wish you could wear but just don't work on you?

12 Things I'll Never Wear:

BELTED DRESSES
I wish I could wear these - they look so cute on the models in magazines, but are all wrong on my shape.

HIGH HEELS
Wanna see Rachel break her face? Make her walk in heels. I used to wear high heels - to work, for special occasions - and I love the way they look and make me feel, but then I had hip surgery and my joints went to shit. I gave up the high heels for good a few years ago. I miss their leg lengthening qualities, but I don't miss the pinched toes, the blisters, or the chance that I will make an ass out of myself falling down the stairs.

BALLET FLATS
The irony! I can't wear high heels, so you'd think ballet flats would be my saving grace. And oh, how I wish I could wear them! They look adorable, there's no heel to trip over, but no, ballet flats just will not stay on my feet. One step and they go flying right off. I'm imagining myself in a cute pair of ballet flats walking through DC, when WHAM!, my shoe flies off and hits an investment banker right in the chicken nuggets. That situation shall be avoided at all costs, so I think I'll stick with mary janes.

WRAP TOPS/DRESSES
There is a 100% chance of wardrobe malfunction should I try to stuff the girls into any sort of wrap top.

LIPSTICK
I wish I could wear lipstick, but every shade makes me look like a clown. I'm a lip gloss kind of girl, through and through.

PANTYHOSE/STOCKINGS
There are few things on this earth that I despise more than pantyhose. Clearly, the first problem is the word pantyhose which might be the most disgusting word ever invented. (As if the word panty wasn't bad enough, then you've got to stick the word hose on the end? Ewwww!) The second problem is pantyhose/stockings/ tights make my legs feel like they are suffocating. And since we're talking gross words, why is the crotch of the pantyhose (gag, ew) always down at your knees? I refuse to wear them. So uncomfortable. I'll commit a fashion faux pas and have bare legs, or I'll wear pants, but just say no to pantyhose. (I've hated tights since I was a wee tot, and finally my mom got sick of wrestling me and just let me wear fancy socks. Think I could pull that off now?)

BRIGHT EYE MAKE-UP
The purples and greens look great on everyone else, but on me? Clown face. This is why I own probably two dozen shades of taupe eyeshadow.

STRAPLESS DRESSES
Not flattering on me, plus the threat of wardrobe malfunction again (See Wrap Tops). Also, these require wearing a strapless bra which is the second worst invention after pantyhose.

PERFUME
I actually just don't like the smell of perfume. I'd rather smell like soap or lotion.

ANYTHING INVOLVING A SHELF BRA
A shelf bra? Seriously, is this a joke?

ALTERNATIVE SHADES OF NAIL POLISH
I wish I could get away with the pretty blues that everyone else is wearing, but whenever I give myself a blue manicure, I feel like a wannabe teenybopper. I've tried several shades of blues and none of them work. I am not 13 anymore, and I'm pretty sure these colors didn't work for me when I was 13. The other shade I can't do is neutrals/pale grays. I love the color gray for everything else (see my wardrobe, car, and walls in my house), but I once heard someone say that gray nail polish makes you "look like you are dead." So, I'll stick with reds, pinks, and purples, and gold/silver for special occasions. (Ok, I might break the rules occasionally - see teal manicure above. I've loved the color teal forever - regardless of whether it's in style. My first car was even teal - though that was in the mid 90's. Maybe I can get away with this at the beach?)

TUBE TOPS
Just no.

To all you chicks who rock the red lipstick and the stilettos, I salute you!

13 things you might not know about me

Me, rowing, age 17 (1996)

In honor of Friday the 13th - 13 strange-but-true facts about me:

 1.  I was a rower in high school.
 2.  I bite ice cream. (According my friends this is weird, disturbing, and makes their teeth hurt.
     "Arrrghhhh! I can't watch!" According to my family this is normal. We all do it. CHOMP!)
 3.  I lose my lens cap at least 10 times a day.
 4.  I've never ridden a roller coaster. I've never been to an amusement park, either.
 5.  I take my right contact lens out with my right hand and my left contact lens out with my left hand.
 6.  I don't like abbreviations. I spell things out whenever possible. I'm being forced to change my
      ways due to Twitter.
 7.  Number of cups of coffee I've consumed in my lifetime: 0. (I just don't like the taste.)
 8.  I also don't drink soda. (Again, I just don't like the taste.)
 9.  I only write with Pilot Precise V5 Extra Fine Rolling Ball Pens.
10. I don't like to touch human hair. (Exceptions: baby hair and Larry's hair.)

11. I used to do 1,000 sit-ups a day in high school. (Number I do now: 0)

12. I like the way my dogs smell. (Not their butts or their breath, just their slight musky smell.)

13. When I microwave something, I always set the time for 33 seconds or 55 seconds instead of 30 seconds
      or a minute. (I once read an article that listed this technique as a time saver, and while I know the fraction
      of a second that this saves is ridiculous, I can't seem to stop doing it.)

go to your room!

Me, pre-trouble years (circa 1981)

As a child, I was no stranger to what they're calling nowadays "imaginative play." Which is a nice way of saying, I was good at getting myself into trouble. Now don't get me wrong - I wasn't a troublemaker. I was quite secure in my position as a straight-A, rule-following, goody two-shoes, teacher's pet.

But I was also quite creative. There were a lot of hatched plans and a lot of "I wonder what happens if I do this" or "I can make this myself." Hence, the trouble. Basically, all of these scenarios were early attempts at DIY gone wrong.

Most of these experiments took place behind the closed door of my childhood bedroom. And most of these experiments involved art supplies and cosmetics. Both of which are messy. Both of which can cause permanent damage to one's parents' home...

My favorite thing to do was "creating potions." This involved taking various cosmetic products and mixing them together to see what happened. I think I was inspired to conduct these experiments due to the way science was portrayed to children. "Chemistry" was pouring different substances into test tubes and then POOF! THEY TURN GREEN AND SMOKE COMES OUT. Since I didn't have "chemicals", I opted for a combination of nailpolish, perfume, and powder.  (Hypothesis: When I mix these things together, cool shit will happen.) Unfortunately, cool shit did not happen. (Results: It made a giant mess.) It made an even bigger mess if you accidentally spilled it on your bedroom carpet and then your mom found out. (Conclusion: Mom will be PISSED!)

(Note: You will later find out that Chemistry has nothing to do with green smoke or making potions. In fact, it involves balancing equations and moles and other things I still don't understand. It's math disguised as something that should be fun. Also, it doesn't involve nailpolish.)

Then there was the time my friend Becky slept over at my house. At god-knows-what-hour-in-the-morning, we decided it would be a good idea (and we weren't even drunk!) to use the box of kleenex in my mother's room to make paper snowflakes. IT WILL BE SO COOL, WE CAN *COVER* THE ROOM WITH SNOWFLAKES. IT WILL LOOK LIKE IT ACTUALLY SNOWED! Wrong. I also think that was the same night that we used a tube of Chapstick to MOISTURIZE OUR FEET. (Conclusion: Mom will be PISSED!)

And then there was the time my BFF Sarah and I decided to spend the afternoon after school working on some art projects in the kitchen. By art projects, I mean SPLATTER PAINTING, YES! And WHOOPS, how did that paint get all over the kitchen curtains and MY BELOVED PINK KITTEN SWEATSHIRT? However, there's an easy solution to the problem of getting paint where you shouldn't: Strategically arrange the kitchen curtains (which I should add, my Mom sewed herself) to hide the paint stains. Stuff the paint-splattered kitten sweatshirt under your bed. Until your mom finds out, because you know, moms are smart and kids are stupid. (Conclusion: Mom will be PISSED!)

Most embarrassing of all, was the time my kindergarten BFF and I were having a sleepover. This one actually occurred in her bedroom. Remember those little stampers that included both a stamp and ink pad together? Well, we had a green one that was shaped like a shamrock. And my friend's mom busted us late one night STAMPING SHAMROCKS ONTO OUR BUTTS.

I really have no idea if the moms were pissed about this one. Her mother was probably horrified that she had to tell my mother what we'd gotten into. (Lest I come home from a playdate and my mom wonder why I had a green shamrock on my ass. I'm pretty sure these things were frowned upon, even in the eighties.) But personally, I would have laughed my own butt off had my kindergartner been busted artfully decorating her butt cheeks. Then I would have been terrified that she'd end up with a tramp stamp. (Conclusion: Be grateful, Mom, that I didn't grow up to tattoo my lower back!)

I should clarify that these incidents did not occur when I was a toddler. You always hear the stories of little kids getting into baby powder or diaper cream and smearing it head-to-toe. And I always thought, I bet I never did that as a baby. No, I was worse. I did most of these things between the ages of five and ten. I knew better - which is why I closed my bedroom door before conducting said "experiments". Ironically, my punishment for most of these offenses was being sent to my room.

As a result of the trouble I got into in my own bedroom, I think my parents' plan for damage control was to encourage us to play outside. After all, how much trouble can kids get into outside? They can't ruin the furniture, the carpet, or the curtains, right?

True, but they can ruin other things..

There was the time that Sarah and I decided to use hedge clippers to cut a MAZE into my parents' bushes. That didn't end well. For either of us. (Sorry, Sarah!)

Then there was the time we decided to start an oak tree business. This involved the collection of acorns which were then placed into ziplock bags with a damp paper towel and allowed to germinate. Except that never happened because my mother discovered our cache of "baby acorn trees", yelled at us about wasting ziplock bags, and crushed our entrepreneurial spirit.

Then there was the time I used a nail to scratch my name into my parents' car. I'm pretty sure they should've killed me for that one. I wasn't intentionally being destructive; for some reason I thought I would be able to rub it off, like writing in dust. When I realized it was permanent, I calmed myself by thinking "They'll never know who did it." Because my childlike handwriting wasn't going to give me away or anything. Nor was the fact that I'd SIGNED MY OWN NAME ON MY CRIME. (Conclusion: Kids are really stupid. Also, Mom AND Dad will be really PISSED!)

And then there was the time I made napalm under our treehouse. No wait, THAT ONE WAS MY BROTHER.

In conclusion: Do not your children anywhere near nailpolish, chapstick, hedge clippers, or paint. Most definitely do not let them near your car. Do not let them have sleepovers. Or friends. Children are more destructive in pairs.

(Also, DIY tattoos are funny. So are butts.)

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The Scintilla Project | Day 4: Prompt #1. Talk about your childhood bedroom. Did you share? Slam the door? Let someone in you shouldn't have? Where did you hide things?

my platform

Being that it's an election year, the news is full of political discussion these days. Most of it makes me want to smash things. I intentionally avoid discussing politics and religion on my blog - one, because to be honest I don't like talking about either. Both topics simultaneously bore and anger me. And two, because such conversations are intensely personal and result in controversy - which is another thing I try to avoid on my blog. I don't want to dodge the issues and I do respect differing opinions, however, I believe what I believe and I don't think that my opinions can change anyone else's nor do I expect that others' arguments will change my beliefs.

But all the political talk lately has gotten me thinking...what's my platform?

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The Scintilla Project | Day 1:  Prompt #1. Who are you?

I wrote this post last night. This morning, the writing prompts for The Scintilla Project arrived in my inbox. I read the prompts and didn't feel inspired by either one. My plan for participating in The Scintilla Project was to use the topics that interested me, but not force the ones that don't. But then I realized that this post was the perfect response to Prompt #1: Who are you? Perhaps a list is a non-traditional approach to writing, but I'm non-traditional and since I'm not in school anymore, I'm fine with interpreting the rules so that they work for me.

I'll continue to respond to the Scintilla prompts that inspire me, but will post the topics at the bottom of the post, because I want my writing to stand on its own as opposed to just answering a question. If I had a mission statement for my blog it would be to document my life and my creative process (and the progress of my little shop) - through photography, writing, humorous snippets of my day, crude drawings, stories about my dogs, or just recaps of my weekends. I don't follow blogging trends, answer memes, do link-ups, or post something just because everyone else is doing it. I don't choose topics to increase readership. I write this blog first and foremost for myself. That being said, I really appreciate those of you who stop by to read, comment, and support my blog and my shop. The connections with readers, other bloggers, and customers that I've made through this blog (both online and in real life) are a huge bonus!

A good post is a good post - and if what I write is good regardless of the writing prompt and stands on its own as an interesting blog post, then yes, I'll share it on my blog. If my writing is a forced response to a question, undoubtably the post will be boring - to avoid this, I'll be skipping the prompts that don't inspire my best writing (or photography, or drawing, or however I choose to interpret the prompt!).

things I am afraid of

Let's talk fears and phobias. Everyone has a few weird things they're afraid of - some of them completely irrational (the very definition of a phobia, right?). Here are mine:

GRASSHOPPERS
Some people hate snakes or spiders, but for me the creepy-crawly that freaks me out is grasshoppers. I'm not particularly a fan of any crunchy-bodied bug (cicadas, locusts), but the grasshopper is by far the worst. They look nasty, they swarm, they have hairy legs, they can fly, AAAND they jump ONTO YOU.

WIND
Scary shit happens when there's wind. As a child, I was afraid of swinging when it was windy because I thought it would blow my swingset down. As an adult, this happened, and our house missed being smashed by mere inches.

SCARY MOVIES
I was the kid who wasn't allowed to see The Wizard of Oz until I was TWELVE because my parents thought it was too scary. When I finally saw it, I didn't think it was scary at all. However, I have no desire to see actual horror movies. I've never even seen The Silence of the Lambs. It just sounds grotesque. (Related: A few weeks ago I saw a car with a license plate frame that said "It rubs the lotion on its skin." Do NOT go on a date with that guy!)

Anyway, Larry laughs at me about the scary movie thing - especially when I admitted that scary movies give me nightmares. The other day he was naming scary movies and asking if I'd seen them. Child's Play? No. Nightmare on Elm Street? No. Halloween? No.

I then admitted that I had seen Scream, I Know What You Did Last Summer, and Se7en. (Which I saw in the theater when I was IN HIGH SCHOOL. A friend's older sister chaperoned us unto the theater since it was rated R and we were under 17.) His reaction: "Seven?! THE HEAD IN A BOX MOVIE? I haven't even seen that!"

DENTISTS
As I kid, I never could understand why people were afraid of the dentist - it was no problem for me (plus they had a toy box!). This is a fear I've unfortunately developed as an adult. I know I'm not alone - according to Wikipedia, 75% of U.S. adults experience some degree of dental fear.

Cocktails and the view from the 95th Floor of the John Hancock Center, Chicago, June 2009.

HEIGHTS 
I'm not a fan, but it depends on the situation as to how fear-inducing it is for me. Larry is much more afraid of heights than I am, so I have to be the rational one in these situations. I managed to coax him up to the 95th floor of the John Hancock Center in Chicago (I will admit that the wobbly elevator ride is a little harrowing), where he promptly ordered two cocktails (the view was totally worth it). I would love to go on a hot air balloon ride (this is a no-go for Larry), but the very thought of bungee jumping or skydiving makes me pee my pants. I wish I had the cojones to hike Angel's Landing. (Maybe someday. Or maybe not.) Also, to any structure with a glass floor, I say, WTF. I'm looking at you Sears Willis Tower Skydeck Ledge, and at you, Grand Canyon Skywalk. These situations invoke, as Larry would say, The No. 9 A-Hole Pucker. Sweaty palms, indeed.

SMALL PLANES
You will never, let me repeat that, never, see me going up in a biplane. I'm also no fan of turbulence, take-offs, landings, or the plane running out of fuel. (This happened to me over Minneapolis and resulted in an emergency landing in Fargo. Fun times.)

NEEDLES 
I've mostly gotten over this one - I've had quite a bit of blood drawn in the past five years, so that's no problem for me now. (Though you won't see me getting a tattoo any time soon!) What I really hate are I.V.s - those totally suck and hurt like a bitch. And you still won't catch me signing up for any tests involving needles that give electric shocks!

PUBLIC SPEAKING
No, thank you. Also, no it does not help to imagine your audience in their underwear. That's just sick.

OPEN BODIES OF WATER AT NIGHT
There's something creepy about black water. Deep, mysterious, scary.

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When I was a kid, I was afraid of the second freezer we had in our garage. It was full of frozen meat and it gave me the heebie-jeebies. I also wasn't a fan of thunder or sirens at night, elevator doors (one closed on me once - to this day, I still dash out of elevators quite quickly), cemeteries (gave me nightmares for weeks), or blood. Well, I'm still not a fan of blood, but I've had to clean up some dog injuries, so I'm getting better about it. Still...no, I do not want to see your bloody finger, gnarly wound, skinned knee, etc. Yuck.

Oh, and for quite a while I had a fear of ax-murderers hiding behind shower curtains. Please don't think this is good reason to hide behind a shower curtain and scare me because then I will have to kill you.

We could delve deeper and discuss fears of the future, things that keep me up at night, etc, but let's just leave it at the so-called silly and irrational fears.

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So, am I crazy? A 'fraidy cat? Anyone else want to confess what they're afraid of? Snakes? Spiders? Enclosed spaces? Clowns? Germs? The number 13, aka Triskaidekaphobia? - I still remember this as a vocabulary word we learned in 4th grade. (Also, did you know that fear of the number 666 is called hexakosioihexekontahexaphobia?)

from when I was skinny and wore a leather jacket

I found this picture the other day. It was taken in 2003. I was 24 years old. I was skinny. I wore my beloved leather jacket everywhere, and evidently, boots with really high heels. I parted my hair in the middle. I did things like ride on the back of motorcycles.

I don't even recognize this girl anymore. WTF happened?!

awaking the beast

I am not a morning person.

I never will be a morning person.

This is something about myself that I've accepted I cannot change. I'm a night owl through and through.

Even as a child, I was aghast when my friends told me they woke up at 6 am on weekends just so they could watch cartoons. First of all, cartoons suck. Seriously, I was never into them, even as a kid. Second of all, sleep is way more important. Third of all, why are you waking up WHEN IT'S STILL DARK OUT? That's not natural!

As a teenager and college student, I loved sleeping in. This is probably pretty normal behavior for adolescents.

People told me, "Oh, once you get a job, you'll never be able to sleep in. Your body will automatically wake up early, even on weekends." or "Oh, once you get older, you'll become a morning person."

Ha.

HAHAHAHA.

I'm 33. I still like to sleep in. I freaking HATE mornings.

Seriously, do NOT talk to me in the morning. Do not try to coax me out of bed. I will be mean to you. (I'm sorry about that, but I just can't help it.) Also, if you utter the phrase "Good morning, sunshine!" or "Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" within my earshot, I *will* punch you.

I've learned over time that my body's clock prefers for me to sleep between the hours of 4 am and noon. Yes, I realize that this schedule does not work with society's expectations, so I've spent much of my adult life trying to fight it. But I am most productive between midnight and 4 am. That is when I catch my second wind and my creative burst.

When I worked in an office, this was obviously a problem. I was always trying not to be late to work. I slept through my alarm quite a bit. I turned the alarm up so loud the neighbors complained, and I still slept through it when it was blaring away right next to my face. I got a second alarm clock. I slept through that, too. I had bosses and co-workers who were extreme-morning people. Why is it that morning people always turn their noses up at night owls as if we are slackers? Just because I get into work later does not mean I don't work just as hard once the sun starts to set.

(Oh, and hey, morning people? At least my bedtime is not equivalent to that of a baby's!)

Part of the problem may be that I don't drink coffee. I made it through five years of architecture school (and many many all-nighters including staying awake in the studio for 72 hours straight) without a single cup of coffee. I tried taking a no-doze once and it made me feel like a strung-out jittery crack addict. I never did that again. I stayed awake through sheer willpower and by chewing spearmint gum (and the occasional cookie).

I guess what I'm saying is that my sleep habits suck and they have for a long time. Even when I do get up "early" I don't know what to do with myself because my brain does not seem to fully function. I sit around and stare at the walls until it becomes a more appropriate hour for getting things done. Sometimes I allow myself the luxury of reading a book in the morning. But guess what happens? I end up falling asleep.

So, as my 30 Day Challenge for March, my goal is to set a regular sleep schedule, get up "early", and have a bedtime. This is going to be harder for me than it sounds...

Alright, morning people, here is my schedule, so please don't laugh at me (I apologize for that crack about a baby's bedtime. Also, I'm sorry if you like cartoons):

8:00 am Out of bed! Seriously, no snoozing!
11:00 pm In bed. Do something relaxing, like read a book. (Or drink wine.)
12:00 am Lights out.

I realize that a wake-up time of 8 am is much later than most people get up for their day jobs. I realize that some people get up early and do things like *run* and *work-out* and still get to work before 8 am. I am not those people. Also, baby steps...

Now here's my problem. Like I said, when I get up early I don't really function well and I don't know what to do with myself. I'd like to start working earlier in my studio, but I feel like I need an hour pre-work to get going. What should I do with myself during this time? Suggestions?

What do you morning people (or recovered night owls) do to start your day? How do you find momentum to keep going through the morning? HELP.

confessions | on hoarding and decision-making and keeping it real

I originally started writing this post as an introduction to a new photo series I'll be featuring on my blog: Collections. The new photo series isn't about my urge to hoard things, it's really about photographing collections of ordinary items around my house - things that I don't even realize are collections until all the items are together in one place. 

While writing this post that was supposed to be about collections, I ended up getting carried away analyzing my urge to hoard things and how owning extra stuff clutters up not just my home, but my life, and my ability to make decisions and be productive.

The post below really has nothing to do with my photo series, and to be honest, it makes me seem a bit wacko. Since it wasn't relevant to my photo series, I thought about deleting it, but realized it's a subject worth addressing. I know I'm not the only one who struggles with owning too much stuff. While Larry and I joke that we're hoarders, don't worry, we don't have a stack of dead cats in our basement. (Ok, we don't have a basement. But we do have an attic, and I'm 100% certain that it is completely free of cats, dead or living.) Our house is comfortably lived in, we entertain (just ignore the collection of dog hair!), and the messes are hidden behind closed doors. (Please don't look in the guest room! No really! Don't go in there! Wait, you want to stay (gulp) overnight? Do you mind...sleeping on the couch?) Everyone has a room like that, right? (Oh yeah, don't look in our closets either. And for the love of God, DO NOT go in the attic.)

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I'm happiest and most productive when my home is organized, minimal, and clutter-free.

My home is never organized, minimal, and clutter-free.

We own a LOT of CDs. Most of them are not in their cases.

Despite my best intentions to rid my house of junk and live simply, clutter-free living is not in my nature. I am constantly battling my instinct to save, to keep, to hoard. "I might need this someday," "I paid good money for this," "But it still works," "Someday I might be skinny enough to wear this again," and so on. I didn't live through the Great Depression, so I have no societal influences to explain my urge to save that aluminum can (But I could make it into a candle holder! Or a flower pot!), that bit of rope (Wrap a present with it!), or those old stumps in the backyard (I had the best intentions of transforming them into gorgeous garden stools!).

In our mudroom, aka Mt. Trashmore. 
Things to note: Paint cans left by the previous owner. Grungy towel for wiping dog paws. Overflowing recycling bins.

There are catalogs to go through, old clothes that need to be donated to charity, and don't even get me started on the scraps of paper and post-it notes, all scrawled with To Do lists, cryptic sketches, middle-of-the-night ideas, and websites I need to check out, etc.

Dishes that refuse to wash themselves. Jerks.

Papers that refuse to file themselves. Assholes.

I'm well aware of my shortcomings and am always trying to remedy them. Yes, I've read about clutter-free living, clutter-reducing boot camp, purging your possessions down to 100 things (that's just crazy talk) and yes, I know it's best to only have useful and and beautiful items occupying the space in my home. A noble cause, but that's easier said than done!

In the linen closet: a collection of beach towels.

When we bought our house and I moved out of my apartment, I used the move as the opportunity to get rid of lots of crap. And boy did I purge! But still, there were some things that I couldn't decide on, so they got packed up, and 3 1/2 years later, those items are still in boxes. Clearly, I didn't miss those things and it is unnecessary for me to keep them. But yeah, they're still in the attic.

The top of my vanity. Disgraceful. 

I've found that the problem that bogs me down most in my daily life is decision making. I am the most indecisive person in the world. I can't decide what to wear, where to eat dinner, or which book to read next. When I buy something new, I spend hours researching ALL the different options and comparing prices before I make my purchase. It's a major character flaw. It's annoying - to others and to me. The internet, which makes millions of options for everything available to everyone, does not help with this problem. Information overload is not a good thing for me.

In analyzing this flaw of mine, I've found that my problem with decision-making comes down to having too many choices. When I'm on vacation and I have only 5 outfits to choose from, getting dressed in the morning is a breeze. When I'm at home and I have a whole closet full of clothes (plus a couple of laundry baskets with clothes that never got put away, plus a dryer full of clothes that haven't been folded yet), the decision of what to wear can be paralyzing. That's lame. But true.

Pile of clothes. Location: On a chair.

So in attempting to declutter and simplify my life, I am striving to reduce the number of choices I have, so that daily decision-making isn't such a challenge for me. (Don't even get me started on major life-altering decisions. Baby steps, please, baby steps!)

Do you see the catch-22 here? I need my space to be clutter-free to help me make decisions and stay motivated, yet to eliminate the clutter I have to make decisions as to what to keep/toss/donate and be motivated enough to go through it all. Oy.

Junk mail in its natural breeding ground: Our dining room table.

Our freezer (stocked with Unidentified Frozen Objects) and fridge (Hey, who wants a 3 month old rotten peach???)

For someone who has packratting in her genes (my mother can't visit without bringing me a newspaper clipping, some coupons, and some sort of trinket, while my dad's house is littered with piles of books, newspapers, and magazines), and a creative personality (all artists are messy, right?), I fear this will be a lifelong struggle for me. Some sources of clutter I've conquered over the years (Do I really need 17 kinds of hair gel when the one that works best is from the drug store? Just say no to the expensive stuff they try to sell you at the salon!) and some I just cannot beat (I try to open up the mail over the recycling bin, but still it piles up on every flat surface in the house. Damn you, junk mailers! Also, do I really have to do the dishes EVERY day?!).

CLEAN ALL THE THINGS?! (I don't wanna!)

Dog snot on the window. Easily remedied in 15 seconds with a bottle of windex. Easily messed up again in 15 seconds with a dog nose.

I've recently been going through some of those "still packed three years later" boxes as part of a goal to start the year organized. New Year's cleaning if you will. It's a gargantuan task. And some of the things I've found in those long forgotten boxes are what inspired the Collections photo series. But really they reveal a bigger issue: Larry and I are pigs. And we might need professional help.

My studio. This room should be condemned. OMG.

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(I took the pictures in this post several months ago because I had planned to do a photo post that was a confession of sorts - all the little messes in my houses artistically photographed out of focus - the piles of laundry, the dirty dishes, the shoes by the back door...all the things that show we're real people. I've seen other bloggers do the same and always think it's so refreshing to see that bloggers are real and imperfect. I think there's so much pressure for bloggers to portray their lives and homes as perfect, so here's my dirty not-so-little secret: we're messy. Oh yes, we are.)

flying by the seat of my pants since 1978

It's my birthday today! I'm going to give up on the handmade holiday posts for the day, and take a much needed break.

By the time this blog post appears, I should be in a limo. And drunk.

Cheers!

chopped

Hey, look - I have new hair:

Now, I do this about once a year - chop all my hair off. Afterwards, I swear I'll never let it get long again. But then it grows and I get lazy and think it would be fun to have hair long enough for twisty-'dos and milkmaid braids. What actually happens is that I end up wearing it up in a bun hair ball every day...which looks only slightly better than the thing a cat coughs up.

So in the interest of full disclosure - the before photos:

(Shortly after this photo was taken I placed a 9-1-1 call to the salon.)

Clearly, I was waaaaaaay overdue for a cut and some highlights.

When the stylist asked what I wanted, I thought...um, can you make it NOT LOOK LIKE THIS? Also, I would like there to be less of it.

People, this is MY ACTUAL HAIR. I was born this way. It's like a genetic experiment gone horribly wrong.

This is what I have to deal with on a daily basis. Yes, I am aware that it appears that my hair could provide shelter for a colony of rodents.

(Holy shit.)

It defies gravity and all laws of nature. It isn't natural...but, yet...it is. It's a freak of nature! It's aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiive. No, wait, it's dead. Seriously, what died and got stuck to my head???

My hair is the bane of my existence. I try to embrace it, but most days, I want to punch it in the face. I guess that would do nothing besides give me a black eye. So I guess I should say, most days I want to shave it off. Unfortunately, bald is beautiful doesn't work quite so well for us chicks with heads shaped like a potato.

I'm kinda thinking that maybe I should've waited until after Halloween to have it cut, though. I could've gone as an Orangutan. Or Cousin Itt? Carrot Top? Chewbacca? A Sasquatch? No costume required!

Anyway, the hair had to go. So long, rat's nest:

Amy at Nash Hair Design (SO happy to have found an awesome salon in Falls Church!) worked her magic to give me a new short highlighted 'do. Of course it looked great after a professional blow dry, but the real test was letting it go curly...would I look like a dandelion? I'm a low maintenance girl. I don't think I've used my blow dryer since we moved into our house three years ago (despite the fact that one of my first purchases for the new house was a nifty wall-mounted hair dryer holster).

This is what it looks like with some gel and allowed to air dry:


Close-up of my highlights, complete with evil-eye:


Seriously, remind me to never let my hair get long again. Never again. It scares the children:

Nooooooooooooooooooo!

interview on Got Curls

I first met Amanda Coolidge when we were five years old - we went to elementary school together. I remember pool parties, play dates at her house, and her take-no-nonsense mother, Cindy, who's recipe for Salmon & Dill Pie is still in my own mother's recipe box. (At least I think it was Salmon & Dill Pie - it was definitely a recipe for something that I wouldn't have eaten in elementary school!)

In high school, we sat at the same lunch table, and I remember admiring Amanda's outgoing personality, her confidence, and her ability to make people laugh. And then, like most people do, we graduated and went our separate ways, to college, to work, and to find our places in the world. Fast forward to just recently, when Amanda and I were reunited through blogging - funny how that happens!

In reading up on Amanda's blog, Got Curls, I learned that she's been doing amazing things since we were last in touch - such as riding her bike from Vancouver to Seattle to support cancer research and running marathons! Holy smokes! She's lived in several foreign countries and currently resides in western Canada. And she still has that great sense of humor, take-no-nonsense attitude (a trait she no doubt inherited from her mother!), and love of adventure.

So imagine my surprise when Amanda e-mailed me to request an interview for a series she was doing on her blog because she thought I was inspiring. Let me repeat that: She thought I was inspiring. Non-marathon running, donut-eating, ME. Huh?!

And let me tell you, her questions were hard! But they really made me think about the decisions I've made recently and what my goals are for the future of Funnelcloud Studio. Thanks, Amanda!

Check out the whole interview on Got Curls. And check out the rest of Amanda's blog, too - she's truly inspiring (and a fellow curly-girl to boot)!

(wo)man vs. chicken wing + other random thoughts

Six months ago, I didn't eat chicken wings. At all. I don't like gnawing meat off a bone. But then Larry made Korean Fried Chicken. And then he made Spicy Apricot Wings. And then he made Fried Chicken Wings.

My transformation to flesh-ripping carnivore is complete.

Larry laughs so hard whenever he remembers my first taste of that Korean Fried Chicken. "You had this look in your eye. You turned into an animal!" He's been wanting to get video of me eating chicken wings ever since. And the other night when we made chicken and waffles for dinner, he snapped the pic above.

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Speaking of chicken and waffles, have you ever tasted this southern delicacy? I hadn't until the other night. Breakfast food and fried chicken sounded like an odd combination. Breakfast food and fried chicken are an awesome combination! Is there any better comfort food than a homemade waffle? Is there any better comfort food than fried chicken? Try them together!

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I am so sick of editing photos! Seriously, after last week's post, I never want to edit another photo ever again. That project took me almost an entire day, and I now have screenburn on my monitor from working in PhotoShop for so long. Come to think of it, I don't want to sit at a computer ever again.

Why am I sitting in front of a computer?!

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However, that was a really fun project, and reminded me that in seventh grade I considered photojournalism as a career. I'd probably need more interesting subject matter than me with bedhead and eating waffles for dinner (seriously, isn't breakfast for dinner the best?), to make that work, though.

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When Larry saw the beer photobomb picture, he said "This is awesome!" We laughed so hard at the fact that the beer bottle was perfectly aligned with my body. (He wasn't looking through the viewfinder when the picture was taken, so it was a total accident.)

Me: That's your idea of the perfect woman! A beer bottle with arms!
Larry: And boobs!

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Yes, I did buy a trampoline because I had so much fun jumping on the bed the other week. Great exercise and so fun. I'll try not to break my foot.

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Last week, I was walking around the house, looked down, and saw this:

FAIL.

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Then over the weekend, I looked down and saw this:

Double FAIL! Not only are they two different colors, but ONE OF THEM IS ON THE WRONG FOOT. I need to get a clue. Or own fewer flip flops.

Now who wants to see some more pictures of my feet???

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Last month, I was nearly run off the road by a minivan with the license plate GDZ REAL. I sincerely hope this means Godzilla's real. Otherwise, stay in your freaking lane - I don't want to find out today!

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Larry went upstairs to do laundry. Half an hour later, I discovered this:

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These dogs want to be wherever Larry is, doing whatever Larry is doing. A couple weeks ago, we moved my studio. Larry was assembling furniture for me. With two helpers supervisors.

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Did you know that coonhounds can smell through floors?! Well, they can, and evidently, we have a tasty critter living under our house. Banjo has been in a frenzy the past few days, digging into our hardwoods...

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Speaking of Banjo, he's eaten two cicadas in the past week. Crunchy.

If that wasn't gross enough, the second cicada he crunched was emerging from some sort of pupa. (Did you really just click on that link? Sorry about that!) I think the phrase cicada pupa has now trumped the phrase gelatinous mass as the two most disgusting words in the English language. Actually, cicada pupae is even worse...that means there is more than one of them. Shudder. Gag.

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Our dogs are not the type to share their beds. Or exhibit affection for each other. However, over the past month, Gravy has been stealing Banjo's bed whenever he has the chance. Whenever I can't find him, he always turns up in Banjo's bed. Poor Banjo doesn't know what to do (he won't sleep in Gravy's bed), so he's been hiding in the closet.

Then the other night, Banjo went to put himself to bed and Gravy was in there...so he went in there, too.

There's something in my bed!

Whatever, Banjo. I sleep wherever I want!

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Larry: What would you do if there was a snake in our house?
Me: I would leave.

Duh. Isn't that the obvious answer?

wednesday in black & white

My day in photos. Messy, ordinary, unglamorous, and a little bit gritty. Real life.