Jesus Christ

A few months back I was trying to capture my eye color using the macro function of my ubiquitous Canon digital camera. To avoid using flash I stared out a sunny window and absolutely no one was around to see me (naturally, I would seem like a crazy person).  When I took a close look, I found Jesus.

Blue-gray iris and Jesus Christ

Can you see him?  He's even wearing a sash - such a stylish one that Jesus - and he's doing something with his hands, like laying them on a sinner (OMG, me?!). I thought about contacting the news stations (heck, I've seen them do stories of Jesus on toast and in toilet bowls), but the thought of my 15 minutes of fame being use for this made me want to take the name of the lord in vain.

Killing me chemically

Influenced by reading one too many raw food cookbooks, I got to thinking about all the chemicals in my beauty supplies. The jury is still out on many items I use every day. Nanoparticles of zinc and titanium oxides in my sunscreen? Organic sunscreens? What if you put them on your freshly shaven legs? What if you sweat and they slide into a cut? Well, you'll surely get cancer and die.

But it wasn't until a particularly bad hangover that I realized the potential harm of nail polish. It was strange. I woke up in the morning and my fingers were throbbing... SUFFOCATING. The nail polish I had applied the night before was somewhat covering my cuticles, and that's when I learned that our cuticles need to breath, or else.  

Now, I love nail polish. I love the color options. I love picking it off. I love the way it looks when I've refrained from picking it off. It makes typing more fun. It makes drinking from fancy glasses more fun. It makes the dirt under my nails from gardening less noticeable. I just love it. But what I don't want to invite are toxic chemicals getting into my cuticles and nail beds. Therefore I am now scoping out "good" nail polishes. A quick Google search will show you 4-6 companies with this ethos. Each little bottle will set you back, and I don't want to throw out all my cheap stuff with perfect colors (hello Rimmel!), so I'm determined to buy and use a "good" basecoat at all costs.  

Priti NYC base and top coat - $12.50

This should act as a barrier to the bad stuff, right? RIGHT? 

Paint doodles

When personal computers came on the scene the first thing I would always play with was Microsoft's Paint. Friends and I would entertain ourselves with large floppies of Jeopardy and Family Feud, but Paint was my solo thing. To this day I doodle on Paint. Here are three desktop backgrounds that make me happy:

Lone Star

Red Sky

Tornado

Making desktops started with my desire to create spaces to place "in progress" work files (like inside a yellow rectangles for example).  Sometimes I wish Paint would join the 20th century so that I could do more without frustration, but then I remember that its simplicity is what makes it comfortable and familiar.  Doodle desktops beat stock photos any day.  Get silly and make a few!

Late to the bandwagon

I know discovering Pantone after 30 makes me clearly not a design wizard, but better late than never.  I can't believe that there are jobs out there solely based on appreciating and communicating with color.  Please tell me Pantone professionals are extremely talented and lucky to have those jobs. If they are a dime a dozen I'll seriously start rethinking my career path.

For an easy ten bucks I bought the 100 Pantone postcard set for purely artistic purposes.  I took my "Spring" color palette (essentially the colors that are supposed to be most flattering on me -- more on that some other time) and matched them to as many of the postcards as possible.  Without sorting the colors afterwards I laid them out in a 5 by 5 grid and loved what I saw.

Horrible picture quality, please forgive me

Starting from the top I mounted these on an empty wall above a bookshelf (I like how they match the look of the book spines) with some 3M poster tape.  I wouldn't change a thing.

It'll be a while before I wear this much pink.

Conundrum

When I read the blogs of other people, my favorite posts usually regard their personal lives. It almost shames me to say it. Pictures from your vacation? Show me! A story about your awesome mother? Give it! The dramatic birth story of your toddler son? Yes please!

Yet I have no intention of showing my face, saying my name, or dispensing tidbits of my most personal personal life. I'd like to, but I'm not ready to. How are readers (all 3 of you!) supposed to feel drawn in? What will make you come back for more? For me?

This is my conundrum. And I *cannot* believe that conundrum is not spelled connundrum.

Smell the Roses

I am very grateful for the saying, "Stop and smell the roses". Without it, I'm not sure I'd have focused on doing it. Do it! It's so fucking worth it.

After some time you'll find yourself stopping to put your nose in things that maaaay be roses, some exotic kind you think might be related. Sometimes they smell, sometimes they don't. But roses... ahhhh, roses. They smell so fucking great.

Just watch out for bees.

They don't like noses.

I'm awesome

Proof I'm awesome

Trader Joe's whole wheat pizza dough divided into 4 chunks and filled with goodness (any variety of cheese, veggies, and mushrooms/meat). This is made especially easy if you cook the innards on a previous day. One of these puppies for lunch with about a cup of marinara dipping sauce makes me look forward to going to work.

Unforgettables

There are a few absolutely normal things that people have said to me over the years that remind me of these people - relentlessly.  These aren't mean things, or complimentary things.  They aren't good or bad.  But they are unforgettable.

Example 1 -- I comment to a couple friends that I cannot NOT observe and take note of the travel times on the electronic highway sign on my commute home.  The best times I've seen are 9 and 17 minutes.  Friend 1 is impressed.  The best he's seen are 9 and 18.  Friend 2 makes a joke about how we really "like to live it up, don't we!"  I think of Friend 2 every single time I see this sign.

Example 2 -- A friend in college says to me, "Why didn't anyone tell me I'm supposed to shave my hair with the grain!?"  I think of her every single time I shave my armpits.

So remember, folks, some little thing you say may just be that unforgettable thing to your completely neurotic friend for as long as they live (or drive and shave).

Welcome!

This blog and this post are currently under construction. I don't know how to do anything on here yet. But welcome! I intend this to be a place where I can release my brain. I intend to toe the line between letting it all out and not getting fired from my paying gig. Please feel free to comment and share. Your kind ideas and suggestions are very welcome.

As an appetizer, here are some things that I am currently semi-obsessed with:  color combinations, baked kale chips, getting through security lines with as few muscle movements as possible while sneering at those in bare feet, pausing Sex and the City episodes to take pictures of my favorite outfits (almost always on Carrie), defending Sex and the City for being perfect for what it is (free therapy), and this way my one cat will only be cuddled on my left side with absolute adorableness.

Welcome!