February 2010 Archives

I want to… Be understood…
Go to Reykjavik. Get my MFA. Drive a Mini like a NASCAR racer and then set it on fire. Talk the talk and walk the walk. Open a gallery. Win some money. Let it all go. Stop the hating. Know why he’s crying. Cure things. Start it all over again. Dance. Know how to sit still. Go to the spa. Make it work. Wear flip flops. Have someone take care of it. Broaden our horizons. Go to Block Island. Be friends with Madonna. Cancel the Today Show. Plant tomatoes. Build the perfect playground. Be carefree. Host my own galleried show. Stop trying so hard. Bounce. Find the patience. Love all the sister wives. Take it all back. Move. Finish the house. Publish. Clean up the clutter. Find old friends. Quit Facebook. Bury the keys. Go kayaking. Bake wheat bread. Get the lawn furniture out. Speak. Build a following. Be the guy behind the guy. Hide. Just know. Filter. Damn the man. Buy new clothes. Wait it out. Sit in the sun. Make use of all 24 hours. Stop annoying myself.  

This past week was a strange one.

My phone has been ringing off the hook due to my ad placement for help–the cobwebs shaking off the receiver… Hundreds of calls–and I had the paper take the ad offline. It’s been interesting to talk to so many people about what I want and need… One woman actually said that she was answering the post because of the economy… not necessarily that she has childcare experience… I told her to come right over…. Just what I’m looking for–Desperation in the name of Watch my Child. Are you kidding me? But then the weather warmed up and melted everything… only to have Mother Nature open her blind eye and demand MORE SNOW. And you should see my me when I say MORE SNOW, because both of my eyes start blinking wildly and every hair on my head stands up perfectly straight for about a half second…  Because no one is talking about MORE SNOW… so I won’t either…

I had a client request this past week.. A complete and total 180°. “Abandon my Blog. And take me off of Twitter.” But why? And the reasoning made more sense to me than most topics these days… “Because,” said the Big Man on Campus… “Because I see what you and others do with your blogs and…” The explanation went on but it was a matter of upkeep and anonymity. And then it made even more sense. It is easier to be followed — easier to be sought after if you aren’t right there. It was only a few months ago that this same individual NEEDED to be connected.. But that was then and this is now… Now, where it’s cooler to be hard to get – difficult to track down… a pedestal height that can be considered an achievement… I can hear the words now — “He’s not EVEN on Facebook”–but he never really was. The experiment tried and tried… but in the end – SOCIAL MEDIA FAIL. 

So now what? Is this the new wave of been there done that? As we are faced with even more tools to push ourselves more out there? Follow, Connect, Do it, DO IT NOW, What are you doing now? Why? HOW? 

Tools like this one:    

Because we’ve all gotten ourselves into this ball of internet wax – and it isn’t going to melt anytime soon…. And although the bleacher seats are shiny and new — they are still outside and, if I’m not mistaken, I do believe the forecast for next week just might call for snow.

How are you?

I’ve been thinking about our conversation — about how you think that Picasso wasn’t really a bad guy, he just had commitment issues, and I really have to disagree with your juxtaposition on the Tiger Woods matter — but you are entitled to your opinion. Is it at all possible that the Olympics have gone to your well frosted head? Too much up close and personal?  Or are you just intimidated by Z-Germans? Because although they are undeniably günter höhne, I suspect they might be all talk and no show. But that’s just me.

You know what else IS me? Closing one company and opening another in a span of three weeks… with a 2 year old sitting on my lap, while I design logos with one eye and bake dairy and egg free chocolate cupcakes with the other. Literally. And, as I look out the window I see glops of white starting to mix in with the monsoon. With one office half moved out and the other half moved in and décor resources beginning to haunt. Because Martha I am not, and I’m kinda happy about that. But what about you, Cupcake?

Enough about me. Let’s talk about you.

How was your trip to Egypt and your journey to the center of the earth? Was it anything like the movie? And what did you and The Queen talk about? Did you dazzle her with your experience as Gordon Sumner’s Sommelier… The Peace keeping battle where you carried Bono to the sidelines in what you panicked to be near death–only to realize that it was nothing but a drunken stupor? Or did you just go on and on about America’s Next Top Model like you usually do? You really should allow yourself to take credit for all that you have accomplished… I mean you are only 20 minutes old — and I know this is just touching on half of the story.

There was the time that Lloyd Dobler stood in the rain in anguish over his broken heart… gripping his pen? One can only assume. But, dear Cupcake, the point of my letter is getting lost in the fodder of “where are we now”? Because to come full circle would require more than a burning flag, James Joyce and the Easter Bunny. No. We need something much stronger and more organized… Something to inject life into the icing on top… Something with promise and compassion… Something for completion… with texture. Beyond all cause, and hold off the guard…before I start to make sense… Because, we need sprinkles.   

It means so many things.

Just tonight, for instance, a dear friend recommended this topic… 20 minutes later and just 5 minutes shy of bedtime, Will ran naked and free through the house like a wild child… Only to face the consequences of such freedom by projectile rocketing his dinner all over the house. He’s fine now…. and if I weren’t so responsible sitting here with the baby monitor strapped to my head as he sleeps… I might like to throw caution to the wind, taking a glance at the martini glasses..  But no…I’ll only feel Plowed later. It parallels to the ad I just placed in the paper yesterday for a part time Childcare/Personal Assistant position… I thought Personal Assistant sounded so much more fun and exciting than “Mother’s Helper”… Well – sexy sells because today I had a HUMONGOUS response… humongous being the WORD OF THE DAY.. ringing in my ears. People need work, huh?… kidding. I really just want some overachieving high school kid to play with my son for an hour and then pick up my mail while I work. Because… Yes, before I get Plowed, the work is starting again.

But can you imagine being the snow? Seeing this winter in the forecast and thinking (because we all know snow thinks) This is it! This is the winter that I am going to fall from the sky and do my mighty snow dance all over planet earth… only to fall, settle in a bit, and be unsuspectingly PLOWED… after all that hard work and build up..  It isn’t unlike quicksand if you think about it… I mean, what CAN YOU DO? I know snow. My husband owns a plow and PLOWS SNOW… I’ve been PLOWING… Not so much fun, to tell you the truth… Snow. I’ve lived in heaps of it throughout many locations and times in my life and this winter has been eternal.. Plowing us under… I can pick snow up and tell you what kind it is… what wine to drink with it… what heel to wear. It’s a gift, I know… but I’m getting off track.

This winter, my friends, is the retribution for all of our plowing. While the weather people of the world unite and try to scare the daylights out of us before a flake falls… The snow this year has taken heed. It isn’t unlike anything else in life that can’t be predicted.. leaving us with our feet stuck in a mess of something frozen, cold and extremely uncomfortable.. I’m spent. Who wants to get plowed?

I left a note- I should be back in a day or two… they will be mad, but
who could pass up an opportunity such as this? Tired, I didn’t pack
anything but a carry on… it’s 4am in San Francisco… here I am, but it’s
way too early to ring the buzzer — might wake the girls. Anyway, I’m 3
hours ahead… where can I find coffee? No. She might change her mind if
I’m not here when she opens her door….continue

What was the point of Facebook? I mean really.
Is it safe to eat the mussels that you find on the beach? Not that I’m about to because I’m allergic to shellfish — just sayin’.
Magenta makes me physically ill.
He completely missed his diaper and wet the bed.
OH… he’s FLYIN’.
Her head was next to my mailbox.
It really is nice that the dinosaur has a New York accent.
DRINK.
Me, a secretary?
My GOD he’s big, what do you feed him? “Soy.”
Why bother apologizing to all of us? You didn’t cheat on us… it was all kind of amusing, actually.
Does anyone know where Phil Lee is?
Pardon.
What I really feel like doing is running around creating Aggravated Mayhem.
If you drive any slower, I might drive over you.
I’m 34 until June.
let’s crush on them together! 
ACTUALLY.
You must skate in the same direction as everyone else.
If I were a digger, I’d have a HUGE bucket.
My tooth always hurts this time of year.
Peace be with you.
I know it’s fun and cute, but please don’t laugh when he calls you a f’ing idiot.
Lisbon, Maine has a population of 9,077. How on earth is that possible?
We have a job to do.
Much like riding a bike, you never forget how to dance on a table.
Is a Water Chestnut really a nut?
I’m really into amateur.
I’m a wacko?
Resurrection is overrated.
He still has a speech impediment? That duck needs a speech therapist.
Who needs pants?
Citidiots.
Ry has a Native American Dorian Gray. I don’t think anything can match it.

I wore the Brooch yesterday.

I wore it in the car…

I wore it doing laundry…

I wore it all day–doing, well, everyday things. I wore it to the point where I forgot that I was wearing it… Until someone on an appointment complimented the delicacy of the petals. Once it was brought to my attention that I was still wearing this pretty little thing… I started to think about my Nana. My Mom’s Mom. About how she accessorized like no one else I’ve ever met… real and costume jewels… some created by her own expertise–A great deal of which I have at my fingertips and never wear. Then I thought about why. Why don’t I ever pull these little charms of fabulousness out into everyday? What am I waiting for? Is it my everyday black or the introvert extrovert thing? To be honest, there really isn’t a reason other than the two year old’s silent mocking over Mom’s sudden burst of style exchange… As I walked out with the Brooch on he laughed and exclaimed.. “Ohhh Mooommm”… But that can be easily overseen…we hope.

It was, perhaps, Nana that inspired the Brooch purchase to begin with.

This morning while I was getting dressed I weighed my options and thought about yesterday… everyday black? or new shocking Gingham? black or blue… and then I reached into the Nana Collection and found the perfect combo… to be worn all day long — until I forget I have it on…

You want to see how my brain feels this week? You should take a look at this rattle over at Small for Big. With a brain that squirrelly, this week’s picks are more feel good than ever. When I was a kid I used to say “Simple pleasures for complex minds, we need the break”. Yeah, I was a nerd, you hadn’t guessed that yet? With the weird prose I write? Regardles, let’s focus on visually lovely things that might help my mind rest a bit. Feel free to buy any one of these and send it to me pronto. I’d love you forever.

1. Roost
   Nairobi Stool, Velocity Art & Design $150
2. Offshore
   Convertible Top, Free People $48
3. Silver
   Deer Necklace, Retro Skor, $16.99
4. Built
   by NYC Shoulder Bag – Girard Collection, Swiss Knife Shop $69.99
5. Woodland
   Owl Wing Headband, Sleepy King, $16
6. Ry’s addition to this week’s Random Five — because we are on complex patterns and she loves to shop for her niece, (slightly obsessed with little girl clothes because she has a bruiser of a boy two year old) — Check out a new FTB Twitter Follower VYSSAN LULL’s Retro Dress Orange by Strömming, $62:

Last week I was out walking with my son and parents in my hometown. It wasn’t too cold and it was before the storm of the century — which just turned out to be a snow storm anyway… We walked over a familiar bridge that crosses over the local train line to Manhattan, and when we came to the top of the stairs to descend… it happened again. Dizzy, ears ringing… pull it together… you’ve stood in this same spot hundreds of times in your life… pull it in.. vision focused. Whew, panic attack averted… but for what?

A few years ago… wait, no – many years ago.. because, right? who am I kidding… We went to Bermuda in the off season. It was Marchish and the island was empty… with the exception of the locals–WHO HATED US. But being full of ourselves we were immune to noticing the discerning “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE NOW” glances. Blame it on ignorance – we were on vacation and dammit, that island was OURS.

One night we were strolling along looking for a nice restaurant when we found the perfect establishment… through the windows we could feel the vibe pulling us in… a tiny little hole in the wall bistro.. people were laughing, the food looked awesome… it was as if there was a vacuum sucking us off the street–we read the menu outside… FIVE STARS — And, open in March(ish). We entered… We entered only to be met by a woman that quickly escorted us out… “I couldn’t possibly seat you without a reservation”, as we eyed the many open tables.

Now. Mr. Sal did not care…  I, however, felt that if we didn’t eat at this restaurant before leaving the island that the island would have defeated us… and please bare with me because I swear this post is going somewhere…  Clearly, we were not from there. Clearly, we were Yankees stomping the English land. But clearly we were not traipsing about in matching “BERMUDA!” tee shirts. Several calls were made – no answer. Time was desperate as we were flying out in a day or two. I felt severely NOT at ease. Finally, a man answered… “They don’t take reservations because they are only open on a limited basis.” WHAT? Firstly, what is with the word “THEY” as I quickly reeled back with dominate rapport — the exact words the woman had tossed at us while showing us the curb. “What did she look like?” Oh — and my tone softened as I described her as if she were standing in front of me. “Okay, I will make an exception – how about dinner at 9pm”. SUCCESS.

That night, after a few cocktails, we floated down the cobbled street to what had been built up in my mind to be the most amazing eatery in the entire world… We entered… only to be greeted by the same woman glaring at us… “oh YOU“. “THE GUESTS of HONOR“. “We Saved our BEST Table for you!“… the sarcasm froze the room. Literally. The other diners stared… the wait staff froze mid-spoonage. Platisicized, we were lifted onto one of those music video conveyor belts and unwillingly displaced from the doorway to our table. “What CAN I GET YOU“… “Anything for YOU.”  We wanted to get up and run out of what had now become Mrs. Lovett’s pie shop on Fleet Street. But then… sigh… but then the chef appeared and explained that we had walked into a private party the evening before and that in her excitement, the owner — that was leasing the space from another proprietor, had breached an agreement by uttering the word “reservation”. That, in fact — the restaurant was opened just for us — hoping to fill the rest of the tables in the off-season month. DEFEAT.

The next day, having barely touched the food that we were sure had been laced with meth, we decided to do a bit of sight seeing… the air was crisp–sky bluer than blue. We climbed the lighthouse stairs to the small opening–Mr. Sal went straight out while I froze at the door. All I could see was the thinnest of thin wrought iron railing at about knees height… I envisioned myself falling… I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I pulled myself back inside and sat on the floor. Frozen. What was happening? I was not afraid of heights.

From that day forward I have had panic attacks at ranging heights… from the top of the stairs at the train station.. to cathedral ceilings… to mall escalators… to dunes. It had been only a few years before this experience that I enjoyed climbing numerous cathedral domes and leaned daringly over ledges while traveling in Europe… As I kid I freely leaped off cliffs into miniscule bodies of water… “Bowls” if you will. So, after evaluating and talking to the experts that seem to think that “vertigo” is a made up word that only pertains to the planet Mars… I have decided that I need to go back to Bermuda to apologize. Come full circle. Find the woman that I know is still damning me to this day… and explain the confusion. Lift her curse… This is the only way. 

I’m asking because yesterday I saw something that sent me into a deep meditation of WOW you are REALLY intense… So intense that the craziest thing I’ve done lately is order this brooch:

But then I thought further and it was total madness that I went out INTO THE SNOW to build yet another snowman. OR – perhaps it was the blue cheese that I allowed on my beet salad… Cheating myself is only PART of the diet game. Then there was the mixing of darks and lights in the laundry — something that I do ALL THE TIME. So insane that whilst at Target last week I took the chance on GINGHAM–My inner cowboy calling. I might just paint my nails… SOME ONE STOP ME. 

But there was a time when I was equally inspired… although I’ve never acted on the desire… I really wanted this exact same tattoo–to be worn with ratty jeans, black eyeliner and purposely tussled hair–just precisely out of place. 

And no. Courtney did not make it okay to have a gut OR go sans bra…Nice try though. But.. the image was burned into my brain. Okay – So WHAT IF 1995 was 15 years ago. I resisted the impulse by bleaching out my bangs. I know – how very SKUNK of me. ALMOST as insane as the triple pierce in my ear circa 1988–almost completely wiped from existence. And so… while others are out there doing what could be considered CRAZY – I just have to pay thanks… thanks for the allowance to live vicariously… and because if this was a level 3 on pain — in my world it would have been a 20… along with my safely coiffed brunette existence… I bow in envy. 

But would you just look at this? Art for Art’s Sake AND permanent to boot. Well done Vapid–Well Done!