Words & Photos_What I Made This Week

Birthday Royalty

Last Wednesday was Misie's 30th birthday. (Hip hip hooray! Repeat 30 times. No more, no less.) So it only seemed appropriate to make her a crown of celebration. Any fans of 13 Going on 30?

I feel like birthday crowns are coming back strong. And by 'coming back strong' I mean, 'just starting to get popular.' And by 'just starting to get popular', I mean 'I want them to start getting popular.' They're such fun gifts that allow you to get as creative as you want with them. They're great for people of all ages and they're pretty easy to make. (Tools: poster board, markers, scissors, X-acto knife)

So many more crowns to come...

P.S. Note in the photo below that she looks no older than 18.

Step 1: Sketch out words

Step 2: Color it in (why do I sound like I'm instructing a project for a 5 year old)

 

Step 3: Cut out white space to your liking

Step 4: Adorn the birthday girl with her crown of glory

About to Get Lawyered

My dear friend Mandy is taking the bar To. Mor. Row. And the next day. Annnd the next day. (Cue funeral music.) So it only made sense that a crate of encouragement was in order. For your crafters, I bought the crate at Michaels ($4) which is a great way to package an assortment of gifts and personalize, too, as seen below. Disregard the inside jokes for now (Lungoo/Jungoo, boss references, etc). 

Every anxiety-induced, over achiever law student needs a little something to keep them going...

Like a paper string of flamingos, a water gun to substitute as a real gun, a notebook for cheating, and the beloved Starbucks gift card.

And 5 hour energy, duh.

Peanuts mug featuring Lucy, duh.

Photos_Art(scape)

This past weekend, Robbey picked up some original art from a vendor at Artscape in Baltimore--Jaime Zollars to be exact. This is one piece but photographed separately below for clarity, 16x10, thereabouts.

This piece is a size of a CD album cover. I think everyone needs a tree full of birds in their present or future home, don't you agree?

Well done, Robbey. Can't wait to frame these and get them on the wall.

Photos & Words_Channeling Your Inner Fieryonce

So. You know when you make a shopping list like:

work clothes
large envelopes
wrapper paper (bridal shower)
summer shoes
jeans!
birthday card

And then you narrow it down to what you absolutely most positively need like:

WORK CLOTHES

And then you check your watch, throw on some comfy clothes that you can easily get in and out of ("boinggg" said every man's ding dong), and most importantly, slip into a pair of flip flops to allow easy outfit transitions without the burden of high maintenance strappy or shoe-laced shoes. And then you get to the store and try try try to focus on work clothes, work clothes, work clothes, but all you can see is cute shoes, cute shirt, cute-anything-but-work-clothes. And then you spend hours sorting through outfits and shoes that have nothing to do with work and then...well...this happens:

I luh-huv these shoes (TJMAXX, $25). That's a hyphenated nonsense word. Sound it out though. I think I'll only last in them for no more than 30 minutes but wow, that's going to be some 30 minutes.

Annnnd this:

These don't look that exciting here, I know. But I think they're a fairly practical buy. Not too wild. A bit clunky. But will go great with a flowy skirt or skinny jeans. I'm officially excited. Thank you, Franco Sarto (Marshalls, $32).

And well, these...

Clearance. Guess. That's the brand not a command. But did you guess anyway? How about $15? Because that's how much they were. They are my fieryonce shoes. That's fierce and Beyonce put together. They look great on, however it's a bit hard to walk in them and look like a normal person. They're unsteady due to that mini-stake of a heel and there's no strap to anchor me down to give me a good stride. Therefore, I resign myself to walking like a fancy cowgirl. A fancy cowgirl who loves sitting down and not walking around for any more than 10.5 minutes. I just reconciled with myself that I'll probably embarrass myself pretty good in these shoes. That baby heel will either snap off or get caught on a stray trash bag floating by. And yes, I'll go down like a chimney. But at least my feet will look fieryonce.

And that's the story of how I went shopping for work clothes and returned home with shoes instead. Don't worry; I cried, too. 

Words & Photos_Movie Love

Well, it'll make you laugh, cry, question how you love, why you love, fear your parents dying, fear being alone, re-evaluate your relationship handicaps, remember what love is and the moments that defined it for you, and wish wish wish you had a devoted adorable dog who could communicate with you.

Watch trailer

Listen to NPR's interview w/ writer & director Mike Mills

Words_The Weekend

I'm here. Robbe is there. Which means Harry Potter marathons instead of new Friday Night Lights episodes. Cleaning instead of vegging. Private Beyonce dance parties instead of adult conversation. Cracking up at my own jokes instead of, well actually, there's no difference there.

Speaking of Harry Potter, next week for the premiere, movie theaters are doing back to back movie showings of part 1 and part 2. In my younger days, I would have jumped at the chance to own that ticket stub, but alas, I'm the big O now. No, not owful. That's not even a word. I'm old, now, friends. Old. I feel tired before 11 p.m. I glance at young drivers passing by me and wonder if they lowered the license limit to 13. I scowl at groups of loud, energetic, good-looking tweens and make myself feel better about their beautiful white teeth and bouncy perky chests by thinking about how insecure they really are.

Speaking of cleaning, tomorrow I hope to tackle my garage and fill some serious garbage bags with stuff I actually don't even want to know if I care about it or not. I think it's called blind cleaning. OK I just made that up. While cleaning, I'll be nuzzling my ears next to the voices of one of my new favorite podcasts: Mike and Tom Eat Snacks (MATES) (thank you Josh Sorokach) with Michael Ian Black and Tom Cavanagh (Ed). If you decide to sample their podcast, which is exactly what it sounds like by the way, except it's like 60% snack-talk and 40% life talk (not complaining), it's not for the faint of profanity hearts. Lots of F bombs. But it's worth it, especially for that Tommy C (just coined it).

Speaking of Beyonce, when are we going to start dance practice, Misie?

Oh, speaking of this weekend (this is the first reference), I hope to not eat a hot dog or a burger like I have done for the past 5 days and instead be kind to my body. Love my body. Body my body (sounded better in my head). All because I do have a very special photo shoot coming up with the talented Misie which involves homemade tattoos, alcohol, and Robbey, but not necessarily in that order.

Photos_About Last Night

So... sorry about yesterday. Got kind of carried away. Unforgivable.

Words_Red, White & I Promise I'm not Drunk

July. Psh. Look at you. Looking all... red, white, and blue. All self-righteously patriotic. 'Ohhh, look at me, I'm for America, I remind people of Betsy Ross.' Did you know, July--can I call you July?--that Betsy Ross had bad hair she hid under an embarrassing bonnet? Yeah, a bonnet. A glorified shower cap. (Do you think those will ever come back in style?)

Anyway, I figured I did a lousy job of blahgging (think Minnesota-accent) last month so I'm really going to hammer it out this month! (5 points for using home improvement language.) By the way that exclamatory sentence is probably a lie (no surprise).

So this weekend, huh? You? Me? A bottle of merlot? Wait, I don't even know you. Wait, you, yes. You, no. And you...well, I'd like to know you...wait, no I'm engaged! Oh, you are, too. Phew, OK. OK, I said! What is this blahg all about. Well, let me tell you. I did something. I did something ridiculous. (No, it's not the last three paragraphs.) (Long pause.) I sent an e-mail. GASP!!! NOOOOO!!! STOP LOOKING AT ME!!! Oh, doy. I didn't tell you the meat and potatoes. (Sorry vegetarians.) I sent an e-mail... to someone. OH GAW, JUST STOP IT! Doy squared! (Do people say "doy" anymore.) Sorry, OK, this is fo. Real. Sies. (Fo realsies.) (Do you hate me.) I sent an e-mail to a person who is a prettttty famous musician asking for an interview (with the vampire). I pray to God he doesn't read this and see that I described him as "a pretty famous musician" because the pairing of words makes it seem I think he's sub-par or under the radar of amazing celebrity-status. But no. He. is. not. (Emphasis on the "t".) It's basically equivalent to saying that I'm "pretty funny." And we all know that is the truth, girl, you betta just stop right now, okaaaaay. *Snap snap snap, snap. Snap. Annnnd snap!* OK I just blacked out. (Think about it.)

Needless to say, the e-mail I sent soliciting an interview was... it was...it....oh no. Ohhhhhh no. What have I done...ohhhh...it was crap. It was awful. It was embarrassing. More embarrassing than Betsy Ross's shower cap. Oh dear heavens, what have I done? My life is over! Career? Over! Love life? Over! Attempting a backhand-sprain? Ohhhh-vahhh.

Okay I'm over it.

I'll let you know what happens.

I sah-wear I'm not drunk people.