I was hoping Sarah Haskins would get to this infuriating trends in commercials and lo and behold allow me to introduce "Target Women: Doofy Husbands."
I loathe this phenomenon because it just reinforces all the stupid stereotypes that men are actually just walking toddlers and can't be trusted with anything more complicated than a spoon. So of course it's the woman's job to take care of the house, children, plan activities, and get dinner on the table all while he sits in the recliner trying to figure out his magic eye (it's a dolphin, now put the damn thing down!)
It doesn't just hurt women by eating up all their energy and time forcing them to juggle it all while trying really hard to not put a slip 'n' slide on the roof, it's also bad to men. When they're constantly treated as giant babies without a modicum of responsibility they are not allowed to have an opinion, are never going to learn simple living skills (it's scary just what my husband didn't know how to do because he never had to growing up sometimes) and have no real say in their own lives.
What I wouldn't give for just one commercial to show a man, a competent man, cleaning something. Hell it could just be the windows, or spraying an air freshener, but come one. Mad Men has never really left Madison Avenue. All those women folk are still at home wearing their pearls scrubbing up juniors spaghetti mural while Dad nearly kills himself trying to use the TV in the bathtub.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Picture a Day - Day 240
We've had our house now for about 20 days come noon (I wonder what you get a house for its one month anniversary? Maybe some new mouldings or a fancier light switch face plate. Eh maybe I'll just get mine a nice hat) and while we've dug five hands into a lot of projects we were planning for one still alludes us.
And it's all God's fault. Well okay, God and the weird cold fronts that keep zipping around releasing more moisture on us than a water park's monsoon ride.
For the past 20 days it has rained, misted and been just wet and yucky for a good 14 and a half. And all the days it didn't rain we were off in Chicago and unable to do anything with the house as our robots were on backorder. Just what were we hoping to get accomplished? Why everything outside of course.
Our first week I watched despondent as the grass inched its way up to the sky, waiting until my mother came down with her van so we could purchase a lawn mower and finally cut that sucker down in size (damn uppity grass).
Then I waited, and waited and waited as all the rain turned the ground a nice gooey brown mess. It finally let up for a day last Wednesday and I was able to take the new mower for a spin around the lawn:
And then another spin and just one more for good measure to really get the grass chopped down to manageable height before our trip.
Then off to the wedding and back to find, what else, more rain. And one other major can't let it get wet projects was staring at us every day as we eat dinner. We threw caution to the wind yesterday and pulled out our rollers and brushes one last time to water seal the deck:
Originally the forecast called for no rain for 48 hours as the water sealant likes so it can soak in good and then it was supposed to rain cats and dogs after that. Just squeak in under the deadline, all nice and tidy like. But we can't have that, no siree bob.
On the drive into work we get to hear the weather, "God has decided we can't have a sealed deck, so he's decided to bump the storm up to tonight. Have a nice day."
If I ever find that guy stuck in rain dance, I'm going to bury him up to his neck in chocolate pudding and smack him in the face with a foam baseball bat for a few hourse. Even if the deck seal does take we still have a garden full of weeds that need some attention and of course despite the deluge the grass is up another 5 inches just because it likes screwing with you (grass is evil I tells ya, evil!).
Is anyone else having to forgo some much needed yard work thank to the wettest summer in recorded history? Can we blame this on El Nino somehow? Maybe revive that insanity and take it to court. I want a million in damages because El Nino wouldn't let me mow my lawn. Also he smells bad and made fun of my cat.
And it's all God's fault. Well okay, God and the weird cold fronts that keep zipping around releasing more moisture on us than a water park's monsoon ride.
For the past 20 days it has rained, misted and been just wet and yucky for a good 14 and a half. And all the days it didn't rain we were off in Chicago and unable to do anything with the house as our robots were on backorder. Just what were we hoping to get accomplished? Why everything outside of course.
Our first week I watched despondent as the grass inched its way up to the sky, waiting until my mother came down with her van so we could purchase a lawn mower and finally cut that sucker down in size (damn uppity grass).
Then I waited, and waited and waited as all the rain turned the ground a nice gooey brown mess. It finally let up for a day last Wednesday and I was able to take the new mower for a spin around the lawn:
And then another spin and just one more for good measure to really get the grass chopped down to manageable height before our trip.Then off to the wedding and back to find, what else, more rain. And one other major can't let it get wet projects was staring at us every day as we eat dinner. We threw caution to the wind yesterday and pulled out our rollers and brushes one last time to water seal the deck:
Originally the forecast called for no rain for 48 hours as the water sealant likes so it can soak in good and then it was supposed to rain cats and dogs after that. Just squeak in under the deadline, all nice and tidy like. But we can't have that, no siree bob.On the drive into work we get to hear the weather, "God has decided we can't have a sealed deck, so he's decided to bump the storm up to tonight. Have a nice day."
If I ever find that guy stuck in rain dance, I'm going to bury him up to his neck in chocolate pudding and smack him in the face with a foam baseball bat for a few hourse. Even if the deck seal does take we still have a garden full of weeds that need some attention and of course despite the deluge the grass is up another 5 inches just because it likes screwing with you (grass is evil I tells ya, evil!).
Is anyone else having to forgo some much needed yard work thank to the wettest summer in recorded history? Can we blame this on El Nino somehow? Maybe revive that insanity and take it to court. I want a million in damages because El Nino wouldn't let me mow my lawn. Also he smells bad and made fun of my cat.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Iconography
Now we come to this recent addition to our gallery. As you can see the artist clearly wanted to keep everything neutral displaying how the art causes neither anger nor joy, it simply is. This is clearly an attack on any pro-monogamy ideals.The brush is at a 45 degree angle to the white dress to mentally symbolize a V and we all know what that has to do with a white wedding dress. *wink* *wink* And the choice to go with an off the shoulder dress instead of the more common strapless is beckoning the viewer in for a lurid embrace.
Truly this is the filthiest icon I have ever seen.
Um, I just wanted something that said I can paint your wedding dress for you. It really wasn't anything else.
Quiet you. No one cares what the artist thinks.
Now that I have my first icon I just have to put together the rest of the business card and then I can include my card in orders and the customer will pass it onto their friends and family and soon I'll be raking in the dough. MWHAHAHAHA!
Or they'll behave just like I do, look at the card for a second or two and then toss it.
Picture a Day - Day 239
I've been carrying on this whole vacation recap acting as though we were both toiling beneath 30 tons of boxes and then dropped it all (preferably not on our feet) to drive across the country to be brow beaten into wedding submission. And while we were very busy doing no fun things for just about all of it about mid way through Wednesday we finally had our mini vacation.
We both got a massage. And it wasn't just any old massage, it was our first professional at a salon massage.
I have been a bit hesitant to try going to get a fancy massage my whole life because I have a small tickling problem. While normal people titter and guffaw at the light touches it's when I'm poked hard in the back that I break out into the uncontrollable giggles.
How would some woman feel if I convulsed from laughter and curled into a ball the entire time she was trying to get me to relax?
But after all the mounds of stress we've both been under, I figured I could just stick a bullet in my mouth and stifle all the laughs and giggles. It was about the only hope my poor back had to getting back into some sort of normal human shape (I was one giant club away from giving those Geico spokesmen a run for their money). After you purchase a house they should really write like a 10% off coupon to a local spa into the contract. Or spas should become mortgage loan office chasers, pouncing on all those poor souls who have just had the home loan machine run them over, back up over them, pull a few donuts and then speed off into the night.
So at about 3 in the afternoon my husband and I headed south to the spa. We checked in with the receptionist and were given a very strange form. "Have you ever had a heart attack?" No. "Have you ever had a headache?" Well yes, who hasn't? I don't have one now but . . . "Do you realize that this is not a sexual massage?" WHAT? I sure hope not, I mean my husband will be right there and it'd be more than a little creepy.
And so on and so on. I'm really not kidding, we were asked every single one of those questions before we could go on and a ton more that I am forgetting (I think there was something about your skin care).
We must have passed (I highly doubt the receptionists even looked at them, ah the world of sue happy lawyers) because our masseuses appeared and lead us back to our waiting room. Only I had to make a small detour to the bathroom.
I have a small question. If you're going to build a spa bathroom (which is what everyone at home wants apparently) and you have the space of a small living room, why would you only put in one stall? It makes it very creepy to have a masseuse waiting outside the door for you, while you're just waiting around inside peaking at the huge three showers and twiddling your thumbs because someone seems to have set up camp in the one stall in a 150 sq ft bathroom.
Eventually I made it out and back to my babysitter, I mean masseuse, and found the room where my husband was waited patiently. We were both told to get as naked as we wanted and they'd knock when they'd come back in.
Being first timers and not wanting to wear out any more of our welcome we did as we were told. We just took off our clothes and sat around on the benches talking.
If anyone else has had one of these fancy schmangle salon massages you may have noticed that we were never told an important step. Apparently all those blankets on the table, you get under them. Then they come back inside.
After some quick scrambling while the massagers turned all kinds of fun shades of red we buried ourselves under three layers of blankets (I guess they're afraid it might get a little cold in there). The lights came down, the weird music started up, and here came the massage.
I think at this point I was supposed to reach several levels of nirvana, and something something something. But I couldn't get over the music. It sounded exactly like the opening to "You can't always get what you want." I kept on edge waiting for a creepy kids choir to breathily tell me that things in life are not guaranteed but you may get what you need oh and could I help them get a better gig than a Stones song?
When that became a bit to repetitive (anything more than 5 minutes is 4 minutes too long for a pseudo Stones song) I played a little game, Where is the masseuse going next? They were both obviously following some set pattern passed down from the era of Beowulf who gently kneaded Grendel's arm (he was not fully qualified so there was a bit of an accident, but hardly anyone remembers it anymore).
First the left leg and foot, then the right. Getting tired of legs and all the little excitement they can provide, time to move onto the back. Push down on that using a few gallons of oil (mental note look into eel massages, gotta be the next big thing as the come pre slicked) for a while. Flip over. Move onto the left arm, then the right and finish with shoulders.
And my guessing game and figuring out the symmetry meant I was waiting to help her by holding up an arm or shifting a leg before she was ready. Do not ever try to be helpful when you are supposed to be relaxing, it seems to cause an undue amount of stress for your masseuse. Maybe I should have tipped her a massage.
When we were done, my husband and I crawled out from under the blankets and somehow pulled on all our clothes without touching a thing with our Crisco covered bodies. I felt ready to slip through the duct work or compete in a body building competition, my body was one big oil slick.
Like the puppies at a few weeks old my husband and I weaved and bobbled our way through the front and out of the spa our muscles deciding that they were still on vacation. For the next few hours we felt like a pair of drunks that stumbled into an olive oil factory and thought it might be fun to take a swim in one of the vats.
The rest of our pseudo vacation was not quite as exciting, we did what we must do on every vacation and bought something Halloween related and then had Indian food. I imagine that even if we traveled to some remote mountain cabin we'd still find some little store selling a cute skeleton and then a curry place down the road.
Now we know exactly what to do if we ever go back (hopefully there won't be any more home purchases in our near future) and aside from a small giggle when my shoulders were getting worked on I managed to go the entire hour without breaking into a fit of laughter.
Has anyone else ever had one of them fancy salon spa massages? I'm still trying to figure out how they're supposed to be romantic when you come out gooey and bumbling but maybe that's the cultures approach to romance.
We both got a massage. And it wasn't just any old massage, it was our first professional at a salon massage.
I have been a bit hesitant to try going to get a fancy massage my whole life because I have a small tickling problem. While normal people titter and guffaw at the light touches it's when I'm poked hard in the back that I break out into the uncontrollable giggles.
How would some woman feel if I convulsed from laughter and curled into a ball the entire time she was trying to get me to relax?
But after all the mounds of stress we've both been under, I figured I could just stick a bullet in my mouth and stifle all the laughs and giggles. It was about the only hope my poor back had to getting back into some sort of normal human shape (I was one giant club away from giving those Geico spokesmen a run for their money). After you purchase a house they should really write like a 10% off coupon to a local spa into the contract. Or spas should become mortgage loan office chasers, pouncing on all those poor souls who have just had the home loan machine run them over, back up over them, pull a few donuts and then speed off into the night.
So at about 3 in the afternoon my husband and I headed south to the spa. We checked in with the receptionist and were given a very strange form. "Have you ever had a heart attack?" No. "Have you ever had a headache?" Well yes, who hasn't? I don't have one now but . . . "Do you realize that this is not a sexual massage?" WHAT? I sure hope not, I mean my husband will be right there and it'd be more than a little creepy.
And so on and so on. I'm really not kidding, we were asked every single one of those questions before we could go on and a ton more that I am forgetting (I think there was something about your skin care).
We must have passed (I highly doubt the receptionists even looked at them, ah the world of sue happy lawyers) because our masseuses appeared and lead us back to our waiting room. Only I had to make a small detour to the bathroom.
I have a small question. If you're going to build a spa bathroom (which is what everyone at home wants apparently) and you have the space of a small living room, why would you only put in one stall? It makes it very creepy to have a masseuse waiting outside the door for you, while you're just waiting around inside peaking at the huge three showers and twiddling your thumbs because someone seems to have set up camp in the one stall in a 150 sq ft bathroom.
Eventually I made it out and back to my babysitter, I mean masseuse, and found the room where my husband was waited patiently. We were both told to get as naked as we wanted and they'd knock when they'd come back in.
Being first timers and not wanting to wear out any more of our welcome we did as we were told. We just took off our clothes and sat around on the benches talking.
If anyone else has had one of these fancy schmangle salon massages you may have noticed that we were never told an important step. Apparently all those blankets on the table, you get under them. Then they come back inside.
After some quick scrambling while the massagers turned all kinds of fun shades of red we buried ourselves under three layers of blankets (I guess they're afraid it might get a little cold in there). The lights came down, the weird music started up, and here came the massage.
I think at this point I was supposed to reach several levels of nirvana, and something something something. But I couldn't get over the music. It sounded exactly like the opening to "You can't always get what you want." I kept on edge waiting for a creepy kids choir to breathily tell me that things in life are not guaranteed but you may get what you need oh and could I help them get a better gig than a Stones song?When that became a bit to repetitive (anything more than 5 minutes is 4 minutes too long for a pseudo Stones song) I played a little game, Where is the masseuse going next? They were both obviously following some set pattern passed down from the era of Beowulf who gently kneaded Grendel's arm (he was not fully qualified so there was a bit of an accident, but hardly anyone remembers it anymore).
First the left leg and foot, then the right. Getting tired of legs and all the little excitement they can provide, time to move onto the back. Push down on that using a few gallons of oil (mental note look into eel massages, gotta be the next big thing as the come pre slicked) for a while. Flip over. Move onto the left arm, then the right and finish with shoulders.
And my guessing game and figuring out the symmetry meant I was waiting to help her by holding up an arm or shifting a leg before she was ready. Do not ever try to be helpful when you are supposed to be relaxing, it seems to cause an undue amount of stress for your masseuse. Maybe I should have tipped her a massage.
When we were done, my husband and I crawled out from under the blankets and somehow pulled on all our clothes without touching a thing with our Crisco covered bodies. I felt ready to slip through the duct work or compete in a body building competition, my body was one big oil slick.
Like the puppies at a few weeks old my husband and I weaved and bobbled our way through the front and out of the spa our muscles deciding that they were still on vacation. For the next few hours we felt like a pair of drunks that stumbled into an olive oil factory and thought it might be fun to take a swim in one of the vats.
The rest of our pseudo vacation was not quite as exciting, we did what we must do on every vacation and bought something Halloween related and then had Indian food. I imagine that even if we traveled to some remote mountain cabin we'd still find some little store selling a cute skeleton and then a curry place down the road.
Now we know exactly what to do if we ever go back (hopefully there won't be any more home purchases in our near future) and aside from a small giggle when my shoulders were getting worked on I managed to go the entire hour without breaking into a fit of laughter.
Has anyone else ever had one of them fancy salon spa massages? I'm still trying to figure out how they're supposed to be romantic when you come out gooey and bumbling but maybe that's the cultures approach to romance.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
You're not a bride anymore so shove off
As I go over the pictures I snapped from the SIL's wedding and debating which one to share I'm reminded of a trend I've noticed that I kept meaning to bring up and then promptly forgetting (like the moon full of lost socks my brain contains half thoughts that are so numberous they're about to collapse in on themselves and form a black hole.)Everyone is all excited to share in your journey to becoming a bride, watching as you make decisions about what to do for your invitations. Urging you to share your dress choice, how you decided between the chicken or beef, and just what cool things you came up with for those candles you got a garage sale.
But once the wedding day is over, you've caught your breath from your whirlwind honeymoon and you can't wait to share all the pictures and details from your day everyone has abandoned you.
I can't even begin to count the number of blogs that will have a good 10-15 commenter's all wishing the bride luck as her big count goes from months to weeks and finally days. Then she comes back, flush with excitement to share all those plans everyone was so excited about and she'll get maybe a comment or two. And they're usually in the two word range of "That's nice."
Throw in the fact that it takes a good 2-3 months for pictures to roll in and the wedding hungry hordes have already moved onto the next doe eyed generation of letterpress and tulle debaters before the new wife has even gotten a post past her bridal portraits.
I picked up on this when I started my own wedding re-cap and I kept it crazy short (think of all the fun stories you may have missed out on). Those of you who could last through 30 or more posts about your wedding have my hat off to you. When all I got was the dark silence I crumbled and moved onto something else in my life (and never gained back the same popularity).
It is fascinating how we're driven to be curious about and help with the planning and getting ready, but when it comes time to view the fruits of the labor we vanish in a poof of smoke.
Maybe it's the stigma, the whole it's the Best Day of Your Life thought around weddings and that women can never let go. So if someone does drag their wedding recap out over a few months then more and more people approach it less with open minds and more with the thought at the back of their mind "Why won't she just move on?" "Does she not have a life to live?"
Or maybe when it comes down to it, while no matter how specific it may be, the planning details can apply to a wide audience while the wedding itself is such a personal experience it can never have the same impact as comparing ring bearer pillows from etsy stores.
What are your thoughts on it all? Did anyone else get the "Don't bother recapping your wedding, no one will care" feeling?
And this has been another random thought from Sabrina's brain. Check back next week when we compare the flavor and texture of various breads to their best spreads and how to achieve sandwich nirvana.
Picture a Day - Day 238
College was my first big immersion into the world of Goodwill Hunting. It started thanks to a $5 prom where everyone was encouraged to only spend $5 on their outfit (it was a great time, and way more fun than regular old prom).
It hit a fevered pitch one wild Halloween when thanks to a simple revelation I found myself spending days searching through each and every consignment shop in town trying to find a yellow vest (word of advice, do not ever suggest that you could easily make hobbit feet by stuffing some toe socks. It gives your best friend wild ideas for Halloween costumes).
After that I was rather burned out on Goodwill hunting and may or may not have broken out into sweats and shakes whenever it was mentioned. I did think the night terrors about getting trapped under 100 pounds of polyester to be a bit over the top though.
But that was many years ago and as everyone knows moving is the best time to bundle up all that stuff you never ever want and ship it off to consignment shop hell. And while there I figured hey why not look through the housewares stuff and see if anything catches my eye. Did it ever.
First up some art just perfect for the kitchen:
And at a whole $1 there is no way I could have afforded the canvas to create something like this much less the block of wood it's actually on.
Plus it's one less room I have to create something for. My painting schedule is so full right now along with all of our weekends going to visits or puppies I don't know if I can get back to our house for another three months, four at the most.
This next find is something I'm rather proud of. I mostly went in looking for stuff I could finagle into my painting room and while digging through random piles of knick knacks I came across this old log holder and had one neat idea:
It's a painting sorter!
I used to just store all my old waiting to be sold paintings on the ground but now I can easily flip through them and if I have to pick them up I can stick them all easily on the table when say vacuuming or a naughty little puppy is running through the house eating everything in her path.
My last find is something I haven't quite figured out but I loved the bottle shape so much I just had to get it. I'm thinking something along the lines of a water holder for brush cleaning but haven't quite worked out the logistics.
Or I'll just jangle my tip jar after completing a rather challenging painting and hope for a little compensation.
We'll probably head back sometime later this year just to see if I can find something else I've been looking for for my painting room (think paint stacker so I can easily sort my most used colors). There's also my shipping area that's just a pile of boxes and envelopes on the floor.
Have you had any cool Goodwill Hunting scores before? Anything that you bought and transformed into something completely different?
If anyone's looking for some nice big frames that are cheap I'd suggest checking out Goodwill. It was crazy how many were there with weird prints of artwork in them so no one was snatching that up.
It hit a fevered pitch one wild Halloween when thanks to a simple revelation I found myself spending days searching through each and every consignment shop in town trying to find a yellow vest (word of advice, do not ever suggest that you could easily make hobbit feet by stuffing some toe socks. It gives your best friend wild ideas for Halloween costumes).
After that I was rather burned out on Goodwill hunting and may or may not have broken out into sweats and shakes whenever it was mentioned. I did think the night terrors about getting trapped under 100 pounds of polyester to be a bit over the top though.
But that was many years ago and as everyone knows moving is the best time to bundle up all that stuff you never ever want and ship it off to consignment shop hell. And while there I figured hey why not look through the housewares stuff and see if anything catches my eye. Did it ever.
First up some art just perfect for the kitchen:
And at a whole $1 there is no way I could have afforded the canvas to create something like this much less the block of wood it's actually on.Plus it's one less room I have to create something for. My painting schedule is so full right now along with all of our weekends going to visits or puppies I don't know if I can get back to our house for another three months, four at the most.
This next find is something I'm rather proud of. I mostly went in looking for stuff I could finagle into my painting room and while digging through random piles of knick knacks I came across this old log holder and had one neat idea:
It's a painting sorter!I used to just store all my old waiting to be sold paintings on the ground but now I can easily flip through them and if I have to pick them up I can stick them all easily on the table when say vacuuming or a naughty little puppy is running through the house eating everything in her path.
My last find is something I haven't quite figured out but I loved the bottle shape so much I just had to get it. I'm thinking something along the lines of a water holder for brush cleaning but haven't quite worked out the logistics.
Or I'll just jangle my tip jar after completing a rather challenging painting and hope for a little compensation.We'll probably head back sometime later this year just to see if I can find something else I've been looking for for my painting room (think paint stacker so I can easily sort my most used colors). There's also my shipping area that's just a pile of boxes and envelopes on the floor.
Have you had any cool Goodwill Hunting scores before? Anything that you bought and transformed into something completely different?
If anyone's looking for some nice big frames that are cheap I'd suggest checking out Goodwill. It was crazy how many were there with weird prints of artwork in them so no one was snatching that up.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Yes I really am incredibly weird, thanks for staring
I'd like to think I have about the normal level of public shame that the average person does. Or at least I did when I first started my picture a day thingie.
It's quite debilitating to pull out a camera, wait for it to turn on, get everything all set up and just as you're about to snap the first picture feel twenty pairs of eyes drilling into the back of your skull as though you just stripped naked and said you were going to feast upon the brains of the living.
I employee a touch of hyperbole but there's still this weird presence of mind that you must be a strange tourist or one of those a few shots short of a roll artist kids whenever you pull out a camera and focus on something other than a bunch of people standing in a line.
After about 8 months of this picture thing, I've developed a thicker skin to the weird stares (or I've become the insane pretending she's an artist kid type with a few rolls of film to blow through) almost to the point I forget that I'm even doing something weird.
Then I start snapping pictures like this:
Or this:
And I feel the hair on the back of my neck pricking up warning my buried herd animal instincts there's a predator eyeballing you, run as fast as you can. We have moved a yellow alert on public humiliation, if you don't desist soon we'll be at red alert and then you'll have to fire all torpedoes on a Romulan Warbird.
I'm still not totally immune as I had an idea to take a picture of the rose petals on a slightly rain soaked ground to document the light rain storm from the wedding but I only got one picture before I just couldn't take the looks anymore and put my camera away:
Do any of you other camera toting picture happy artists get the weird stares and fear of public humiliation? If not is there some sort of spray I could order to dispel the fear or baring that an invisibility cloak?
Maybe if I just started snapping pictures of people straining to smile as they stand in a line bored out of their minds with the same picture you see every year for every occasion. Nah, I think I'll stick with rose petals on the rain soaked ground for now.
You got to have one stupid fish swimming against the tide, screwing up the spawning patterns of all the rest.
It's quite debilitating to pull out a camera, wait for it to turn on, get everything all set up and just as you're about to snap the first picture feel twenty pairs of eyes drilling into the back of your skull as though you just stripped naked and said you were going to feast upon the brains of the living.
I employee a touch of hyperbole but there's still this weird presence of mind that you must be a strange tourist or one of those a few shots short of a roll artist kids whenever you pull out a camera and focus on something other than a bunch of people standing in a line.
After about 8 months of this picture thing, I've developed a thicker skin to the weird stares (or I've become the insane pretending she's an artist kid type with a few rolls of film to blow through) almost to the point I forget that I'm even doing something weird.
Then I start snapping pictures like this:
Or this:
And I feel the hair on the back of my neck pricking up warning my buried herd animal instincts there's a predator eyeballing you, run as fast as you can. We have moved a yellow alert on public humiliation, if you don't desist soon we'll be at red alert and then you'll have to fire all torpedoes on a Romulan Warbird.I'm still not totally immune as I had an idea to take a picture of the rose petals on a slightly rain soaked ground to document the light rain storm from the wedding but I only got one picture before I just couldn't take the looks anymore and put my camera away:
Do any of you other camera toting picture happy artists get the weird stares and fear of public humiliation? If not is there some sort of spray I could order to dispel the fear or baring that an invisibility cloak?Maybe if I just started snapping pictures of people straining to smile as they stand in a line bored out of their minds with the same picture you see every year for every occasion. Nah, I think I'll stick with rose petals on the rain soaked ground for now.
You got to have one stupid fish swimming against the tide, screwing up the spawning patterns of all the rest.
Picture a Day - Day 237
For the first three days of vacation we were scrambling to get everything we owned across town to the house (we don't really need a lamp or microwave right?), put away in some semblance of order (I will never see my kitchen's counters ever again) and getting the lawn down from its jungle status to something a bit more pasture like (really funny God, making it rain every day. I'm laughing on the inside).
It was in this state that early Thursday morning we abandoned all of our projects and set off on the 8 hour drive to Chicago:
We got in with a few hours to sit around staring blankly at the wall as that's all the human brain can handle when faced with an 8 hour drive through mind numbing Iowa. Then it was dressed in black tie and off to the rehearsal dinner at the Parent's of the Groom's house time.
Neither me or my husband wanted or needed to be there, we stood in the foyer waiting for some sort of instruction as our brains were still back at a rest stop, and there was a general mood of awkwardness at not knowing how to react to piling a ton of people in a strangers house while nibbling on some of the weirdest appetizers (I now know how to make easy gazpacho soup, just get a huge jar of Pickles and strain some of the juice into a shot glass, then serve on a fancy tray and charge $4 a shot).
The Bride herded us all thankfully out to the yard to some awaiting chairs and a makeshift aisle to start the rehearsal. Finally some focus.Then the fun began for those of us who had already done the wedding thing. There were no coordinators and their officiant was an uncle who had never officiated a wedding before. So it was a long line of people having no idea how to start rehearsing, where to stand and that they should really put down their wine glasses and beer bottles for a few minutes. (That reminds me I should really send some flowers to my wedding coordinator and minister, there's no way we could have done it without those two wonderful women.)
While my husband lined up (he did have one little job, to walk his mother down the aisle) I sat back contemplatively staring around like a newborn taking it all in when the bride asked all of us there not in the bridal party to sit down. So I did. On the right side.
Sorry, you may have missed the significance there. I dared to sit down on the right side! The side devoted to the groom's family (of which all were in the bridal party and therefore no one was sitting there)!
If you missed just what a faux pas I made at a rehearsal where the only people there are the bridal party you aren't alone. My feet have been killing me thanks to moving and a lovely blister/bunion thing developing on my heel, so I was just happy to get to sit down. Not caring a flick for what side I was on.
And while the bride was getting everyone else in order the mother of the groom stomped over like a rampaging parade float, stuck her face in mine and said "This is where the groom's family sits. Well I suppose we can accept you for one day, if we have to."
After working our asses off so we could get there on time, being both physically and mentally exhausted to have this attention whore (what is it with all the MOG's that think the wedding is their lately? I thought it was supposed to be the MOB) get in my face and tell me I'm not wanted I just lost it. I stood up to not sully her precious unused seats and stood the entire fucking rehearsal.
Hell I couldn't even sit on the bride's side if I wanted because it was full up. Great way to play hostess make sure to not have enough chairs and then demand anyone who isn't in the right category get the hell out. (Never mind making people drink pickle juice)
I was this close to just up and walking out of the whole damn thing (that or screaming my lungs off for a while in the front lawn). But I did my best to keep it together for the bride -- plus I had no idea where the hell we were. I don't get suburbs, how do you know when you're in a different town -- and instead curled up with a few glasses of wine and joked around with some of the family that would accept me.
The MOG even had the audacity to come up to me later in the night and ask if anything was wrong (believe me she knew exactly what she did as she said the same thing during the wedding just before everyone was lining up claiming that it only mattered how her family was seated as they were the only important ones).
I just turned and walked away avoiding looking or acknowledging her. Thank God we live eight hours away and will never have to see them again. Or there may be a shouting match in my future.
And that was the dreaded rehearsal dinner. It was torture but not from anyone I'll ever have to see again so it could have been a lot worse.
It was in this state that early Thursday morning we abandoned all of our projects and set off on the 8 hour drive to Chicago:
We got in with a few hours to sit around staring blankly at the wall as that's all the human brain can handle when faced with an 8 hour drive through mind numbing Iowa. Then it was dressed in black tie and off to the rehearsal dinner at the Parent's of the Groom's house time.Neither me or my husband wanted or needed to be there, we stood in the foyer waiting for some sort of instruction as our brains were still back at a rest stop, and there was a general mood of awkwardness at not knowing how to react to piling a ton of people in a strangers house while nibbling on some of the weirdest appetizers (I now know how to make easy gazpacho soup, just get a huge jar of Pickles and strain some of the juice into a shot glass, then serve on a fancy tray and charge $4 a shot).
The Bride herded us all thankfully out to the yard to some awaiting chairs and a makeshift aisle to start the rehearsal. Finally some focus.
Then the fun began for those of us who had already done the wedding thing. There were no coordinators and their officiant was an uncle who had never officiated a wedding before. So it was a long line of people having no idea how to start rehearsing, where to stand and that they should really put down their wine glasses and beer bottles for a few minutes. (That reminds me I should really send some flowers to my wedding coordinator and minister, there's no way we could have done it without those two wonderful women.)
While my husband lined up (he did have one little job, to walk his mother down the aisle) I sat back contemplatively staring around like a newborn taking it all in when the bride asked all of us there not in the bridal party to sit down. So I did. On the right side.Sorry, you may have missed the significance there. I dared to sit down on the right side! The side devoted to the groom's family (of which all were in the bridal party and therefore no one was sitting there)!
If you missed just what a faux pas I made at a rehearsal where the only people there are the bridal party you aren't alone. My feet have been killing me thanks to moving and a lovely blister/bunion thing developing on my heel, so I was just happy to get to sit down. Not caring a flick for what side I was on.
And while the bride was getting everyone else in order the mother of the groom stomped over like a rampaging parade float, stuck her face in mine and said "This is where the groom's family sits. Well I suppose we can accept you for one day, if we have to."
After working our asses off so we could get there on time, being both physically and mentally exhausted to have this attention whore (what is it with all the MOG's that think the wedding is their lately? I thought it was supposed to be the MOB) get in my face and tell me I'm not wanted I just lost it. I stood up to not sully her precious unused seats and stood the entire fucking rehearsal.
Hell I couldn't even sit on the bride's side if I wanted because it was full up. Great way to play hostess make sure to not have enough chairs and then demand anyone who isn't in the right category get the hell out. (Never mind making people drink pickle juice)I was this close to just up and walking out of the whole damn thing (that or screaming my lungs off for a while in the front lawn). But I did my best to keep it together for the bride -- plus I had no idea where the hell we were. I don't get suburbs, how do you know when you're in a different town -- and instead curled up with a few glasses of wine and joked around with some of the family that would accept me.
The MOG even had the audacity to come up to me later in the night and ask if anything was wrong (believe me she knew exactly what she did as she said the same thing during the wedding just before everyone was lining up claiming that it only mattered how her family was seated as they were the only important ones).
I just turned and walked away avoiding looking or acknowledging her. Thank God we live eight hours away and will never have to see them again. Or there may be a shouting match in my future.
And that was the dreaded rehearsal dinner. It was torture but not from anyone I'll ever have to see again so it could have been a lot worse.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Is it Art or the worst wedding present ever?
There were a lot of things I was dreading during my vacation (I think I misunderstand the term "vacation." I thought it was a time when you had to do craptacular and depressing things, only you took time off of work so you could get them all over as fast as possible. Like ripping a band-aid off fast.) but the one that I have been wishy washy on the most was the sharing of my painting.
By the way for everyone who wonders just why you'd want a painting when you have pictures I just spent 10 minutes going through my own to find a good comparison of the actual dress and I am very snap happy.
A part of me was thinking, oh I don't want to be anywhere near when it's opened up. It'll be awkward for everyone involved. Then I kinda stopped caring and was so far removed from it -- mostly thanks to it being wrapped up for a good 2-3 months -- I didn't care much.
So I sat with my mother in law, the bride and her bridesmaids (all of whom I've met before) and watched her open it up. It was very strange to be sitting there knowing that the person looking at it for the first time is going to have to put on a little show for the person that created it whether she likes it or not.
Long story short I have no idea if that thing is going to survive long outside of a dumpster. (It was an interesting way to have the extended family learn that you paint for money though). I rather hope she'd at least reuse the frame as it's pretty nice and I worked hard on the matting.
But I don't ever want to be one of those people that gives the weirdest things and then wanders around a persons house years later seeing where it wound up, guilting the couple into putting it up for the few hours I'm there and then taking it down as soon as I've left.
So why did I give it as a wedding present then? Well I hadn't really planned on it. I was aiming for more of a simple shower gift. Just a little something not framed that could be entertaining on a piece of paper. But then the shower passed and I had no pictures so I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Some of it's probably a touch of my hatred of anything I make and can't stand but I really believe that my weird and sort of cartoonish interpretations of wedding dresses are not for everyone. I don't and can't create realistic oil paintings. I like bright vibrant colors with strong lines to give some character to the clothing and bring out what makes the dress its own and I certainly don't expect everyone else to love it.
How do I tell someone that I don't much care if they throw out my painting but please use the $30 frame?
On a whole nother topic, my best friend and I are planning something. Something probably evil. And I was wondering if anyone knew some of the most cliched games/favors/stuff from baby showers. I've never been to a classic with the pink and blue booties shower before and I have no idea what goes on at those.
Don't worry I'll share something around the end of August. Now I'm off to suck some energy out of the wall socket. Better than a case of red bull.
By the way for everyone who wonders just why you'd want a painting when you have pictures I just spent 10 minutes going through my own to find a good comparison of the actual dress and I am very snap happy.
A part of me was thinking, oh I don't want to be anywhere near when it's opened up. It'll be awkward for everyone involved. Then I kinda stopped caring and was so far removed from it -- mostly thanks to it being wrapped up for a good 2-3 months -- I didn't care much.So I sat with my mother in law, the bride and her bridesmaids (all of whom I've met before) and watched her open it up. It was very strange to be sitting there knowing that the person looking at it for the first time is going to have to put on a little show for the person that created it whether she likes it or not.
Long story short I have no idea if that thing is going to survive long outside of a dumpster. (It was an interesting way to have the extended family learn that you paint for money though). I rather hope she'd at least reuse the frame as it's pretty nice and I worked hard on the matting.
But I don't ever want to be one of those people that gives the weirdest things and then wanders around a persons house years later seeing where it wound up, guilting the couple into putting it up for the few hours I'm there and then taking it down as soon as I've left.
So why did I give it as a wedding present then? Well I hadn't really planned on it. I was aiming for more of a simple shower gift. Just a little something not framed that could be entertaining on a piece of paper. But then the shower passed and I had no pictures so I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Some of it's probably a touch of my hatred of anything I make and can't stand but I really believe that my weird and sort of cartoonish interpretations of wedding dresses are not for everyone. I don't and can't create realistic oil paintings. I like bright vibrant colors with strong lines to give some character to the clothing and bring out what makes the dress its own and I certainly don't expect everyone else to love it.
How do I tell someone that I don't much care if they throw out my painting but please use the $30 frame?
On a whole nother topic, my best friend and I are planning something. Something probably evil. And I was wondering if anyone knew some of the most cliched games/favors/stuff from baby showers. I've never been to a classic with the pink and blue booties shower before and I have no idea what goes on at those.
Don't worry I'll share something around the end of August. Now I'm off to suck some energy out of the wall socket. Better than a case of red bull.
Picture a Day - Day 236
People of Bloggonia, I am proud to announce my triumphant return!
What? No gasping in the street? No petals being tossed? No one selling a hot do inna bun? Not even one bloody clap?
What do you mean you didn't even notice that I was gone? I can never show my face at the meeting of super villains again. I'll never hear the end of it from Doctor Doom.
I'm not really sure where I should begin. We have so much time and so little to do. Wait, reverse that.
I know, how about for a dull Monday back at the rat race I show off what we did to our main bathroom. Mondays just have a sort of bathroom feel while I think Wednesday is asking for some kitchen love.
We started off with something like this (in fact exactly like this, amazing really):
Got a little help from a few cats for the in between stage.
And came out with this:
That would be four different paint colors up on that one wall. We had this ambitious plan to try and recreate a beach using just about all of my painting skills and more patience than one person can muster. I had to talk my husband down from the fifth paint just because I didn't have the patience anymore.
Good enough has quickly become my house remodeling mantra.
After painting the bathroom and trying to squeeze and fit into all those tiny little corners and curves I'm learning why people prefer to just tile the thing and never think about it again.
I do love the reflection in the mirror of the waves and our shadow box of sponges.
This is our fancy bathroom sink (that will never look this organized ever again). Check out the soap dish complete with a dune grass soap from Karen's Soap (it smells just like the Yankee Candle so if there are any fans you gots to try it).
I could tell you some bathroom painting horror stories but thanks to the drug the nice doctors put me on -- Repressitall-- it's getting a bit fuzzy. All I do know is that no matter how easy they make it look on tv or painting commercials those stupid white stripes are never straight and there is no amazing reveal. Consider yourself lucky if you didn't paint one of the wallpaper stripping cats to the wall.
I'll intersperse pictures of the rest of our house, along with wedding pictures throughout the week so um look out for that if you care. If not, then what are you doing here? Don't make me chase you with my pitchfork of death!
Has anyone else ever tried to put at least three different colors on one wall? Or tried to create a white stripe only to realize that every decorating show you've ever watched has lied to you, go in a corner and curse the world?
What? No gasping in the street? No petals being tossed? No one selling a hot do inna bun? Not even one bloody clap?
What do you mean you didn't even notice that I was gone? I can never show my face at the meeting of super villains again. I'll never hear the end of it from Doctor Doom.
I'm not really sure where I should begin. We have so much time and so little to do. Wait, reverse that.
I know, how about for a dull Monday back at the rat race I show off what we did to our main bathroom. Mondays just have a sort of bathroom feel while I think Wednesday is asking for some kitchen love.
We started off with something like this (in fact exactly like this, amazing really):
Got a little help from a few cats for the in between stage.
And came out with this:
That would be four different paint colors up on that one wall. We had this ambitious plan to try and recreate a beach using just about all of my painting skills and more patience than one person can muster. I had to talk my husband down from the fifth paint just because I didn't have the patience anymore.Good enough has quickly become my house remodeling mantra.
After painting the bathroom and trying to squeeze and fit into all those tiny little corners and curves I'm learning why people prefer to just tile the thing and never think about it again.
I do love the reflection in the mirror of the waves and our shadow box of sponges.
This is our fancy bathroom sink (that will never look this organized ever again). Check out the soap dish complete with a dune grass soap from Karen's Soap (it smells just like the Yankee Candle so if there are any fans you gots to try it).
I could tell you some bathroom painting horror stories but thanks to the drug the nice doctors put me on -- Repressitall-- it's getting a bit fuzzy. All I do know is that no matter how easy they make it look on tv or painting commercials those stupid white stripes are never straight and there is no amazing reveal. Consider yourself lucky if you didn't paint one of the wallpaper stripping cats to the wall.I'll intersperse pictures of the rest of our house, along with wedding pictures throughout the week so um look out for that if you care. If not, then what are you doing here? Don't make me chase you with my pitchfork of death!
Has anyone else ever tried to put at least three different colors on one wall? Or tried to create a white stripe only to realize that every decorating show you've ever watched has lied to you, go in a corner and curse the world?
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Picture a Day - Day 235
I can't wait to be back home and finally be able to catch everyone up on my comings and goings and movings and weddings.
Sadly, I haven't quite finished my transporter or my rocket pack so we're still on the road. In the mean time here are some pictures I took of some rain drops off the roof of our deck.
Moving is no fun when it won't stop raining. Though at least it meant it was relatively cool the past week.
And here's a little sneak peak at our new main bath.
Laser Floyd for this lazy Sunday morning.
(Don't worry, our bathroom isn't that many colors. I promise).
Sadly, I haven't quite finished my transporter or my rocket pack so we're still on the road. In the mean time here are some pictures I took of some rain drops off the roof of our deck.
Moving is no fun when it won't stop raining. Though at least it meant it was relatively cool the past week.And here's a little sneak peak at our new main bath.
Laser Floyd for this lazy Sunday morning.(Don't worry, our bathroom isn't that many colors. I promise).
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Picture a Day - Day 234
Thank you so much for everyone who stuck through the archive dig. This is the honest to God last day. Starting tomorrow I'll catch you up on what I've really been up to (and considering the house moving and wedding it should be a ton of stuff).
My husband started bugging me for a picture of a fall tree so one day I obliged him. Now he has his own painting that he gets to decide where to put. Good luck honey, you're on your own.
This was one of the waterfalls at the vineyard we visited earlier this month to calm down from the house buying process. Now I need it to help with the in-law wedding process. Calm blue ocean. Calm blue ocean.
If the wedding does finally go swirling down the drain and we find ourselves trapped in the fourth level of hell I can always put on my camo and disappear into the jungles of Chicago.
If anyone is reading this please send any and all banana's to the Field museum as I am now living inside of Sue with my trained ape, Henry Kissinger.
My husband started bugging me for a picture of a fall tree so one day I obliged him. Now he has his own painting that he gets to decide where to put. Good luck honey, you're on your own.
This was one of the waterfalls at the vineyard we visited earlier this month to calm down from the house buying process. Now I need it to help with the in-law wedding process. Calm blue ocean. Calm blue ocean.
If the wedding does finally go swirling down the drain and we find ourselves trapped in the fourth level of hell I can always put on my camo and disappear into the jungles of Chicago.
If anyone is reading this please send any and all banana's to the Field museum as I am now living inside of Sue with my trained ape, Henry Kissinger.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Picture a Day - Day 233
I am traversing my much aligned photograph archives to discover some long lost ancient secrets. Sadly this is the best I've been able to come up with. Maybe we can repackage them as Ancient Egyptian relics and sell them to the British Museum.
This is the all nature post. There was quite a glut in spring and early summer when I was constantly dashing off to the garden to take pictures. Then it got hot and well you know how it goes.
I love the huge squirrels nest at the top of this tree. He probably sits up there just waiting for a student to wander by so he can chuck nuts at their head. Evil evil squirrels.
Whether I like it or not, we're in Chicago now (in theory). Still praying that I don't get to hear "Oh how could you not show up for your sister in laws' only rehearsal dinner" for the rest of my life. Maybe if I look at cute pictures of puppies I'll feel better.
This is the all nature post. There was quite a glut in spring and early summer when I was constantly dashing off to the garden to take pictures. Then it got hot and well you know how it goes.
I love the huge squirrels nest at the top of this tree. He probably sits up there just waiting for a student to wander by so he can chuck nuts at their head. Evil evil squirrels.
Whether I like it or not, we're in Chicago now (in theory). Still praying that I don't get to hear "Oh how could you not show up for your sister in laws' only rehearsal dinner" for the rest of my life. Maybe if I look at cute pictures of puppies I'll feel better.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Picture a Day - Day 232
Believe it or not but I'm still archiving, pictures from the past year. You may be hoping oh she's got to be out before the end of the week. Well you'll just have to wait and see.
I'm not a big lover of sweet tea or a big fan of the heat but I would love to live in the south if only for when the Magnolia's are blooming. If I could bottle that light scent I'd smell it all year long.
This has been the weirdest weather year ever. Usually June and July are dry and hot instead it's been rainy, dark and sticky at least half the time. Maybe I should look into the south again.
The gorgeous chandelier from the theatre where I saw Wicked. If I ever decide I just have to get into iron work first thing I'm making is a chandelier. It'll probably look like a birdcage shoved into a trash compacter but at least I'll try.
It's also Thursday so that probably means either we're on the road to the Wedding from hell or we're seriously thinking about it. Wish us luck, maybe sacrifice a small bologna sandwich or something to appease the Bridezilla god.
I'm not a big lover of sweet tea or a big fan of the heat but I would love to live in the south if only for when the Magnolia's are blooming. If I could bottle that light scent I'd smell it all year long.
This has been the weirdest weather year ever. Usually June and July are dry and hot instead it's been rainy, dark and sticky at least half the time. Maybe I should look into the south again.
The gorgeous chandelier from the theatre where I saw Wicked. If I ever decide I just have to get into iron work first thing I'm making is a chandelier. It'll probably look like a birdcage shoved into a trash compacter but at least I'll try.
It's also Thursday so that probably means either we're on the road to the Wedding from hell or we're seriously thinking about it. Wish us luck, maybe sacrifice a small bologna sandwich or something to appease the Bridezilla god.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Picture a Day - Day 231
Oh you wouldn't believe the wild stuff that happened yesterday. While traveling down the road to move some stuff a family of clowns sprung out. We braked in time and watched as their little red noses and floppy shoes vanished into the distance. I'd love to share pictures and stories but alas it's time for more archive photos.
Let's start with a little mood setting. This was the other option from my dry ice and sink fun time earlier this year.
How about a gorgeous sunny morning? No? What do you mean no? Too bad.
On the campus where I work there are some rather interesting sculptures. As it's an ag campus I guess the artists feel like they want to be ironic or edgy by say putting up a sculpture of flowers that look like they're dying.
I think I'll just keep the bed of real flowers, thanks.
One day I'll tell you about the animosity one artist made when he had a bunch of real trees ripped out to put up a metal tree on city campus, because he thought he could do better than nature.
Let's start with a little mood setting. This was the other option from my dry ice and sink fun time earlier this year.
How about a gorgeous sunny morning? No? What do you mean no? Too bad.On the campus where I work there are some rather interesting sculptures. As it's an ag campus I guess the artists feel like they want to be ironic or edgy by say putting up a sculpture of flowers that look like they're dying.I think I'll just keep the bed of real flowers, thanks.One day I'll tell you about the animosity one artist made when he had a bunch of real trees ripped out to put up a metal tree on city campus, because he thought he could do better than nature.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Picture a Day - Day 230
Yep, still on my moving vacation. And we're still having a little dig through the archives finding those pictures that didn't quite make the cut. I should really set them to music and call it a slideshow.
In keeping with the beat the heat pictures here's one I tried to get all stealthily in a cardinal's face. Only got three stitches out of it, stupid overprotective bird: 
Before Christmas break we had a little visitor hanging out in my office.
Finally, for no good reason here's a picture of the grasslands that has since been burned down:
Monday, July 20, 2009
Help picking a banner
Hello one and all.
I know I know, I'm on vacation --sort of-- but I need your help. See I have this amazingly talented childhood friend who is a graphic artist (not the problem). And she was kind enough to make me some banners for my Etsy site (still not the problem) only I have no idea which one to use.
So I was sort of wondering if you guys wouldn't mind telling me which one you like the best and which you think would appeal to my random tree/wedding dress painting customers.
#1.
#2.
#3.
#4.
#5.
Thanks so much for all your help. And if anyone is looking for a cool graphic artist to design their own blog header or so you should check out her website or I can probably hook you up with an e-mail.
I know I know, I'm on vacation --sort of-- but I need your help. See I have this amazingly talented childhood friend who is a graphic artist (not the problem). And she was kind enough to make me some banners for my Etsy site (still not the problem) only I have no idea which one to use.
So I was sort of wondering if you guys wouldn't mind telling me which one you like the best and which you think would appeal to my random tree/wedding dress painting customers.
#1.
#2.
#3.
#4.
#5.
Thanks so much for all your help. And if anyone is looking for a cool graphic artist to design their own blog header or so you should check out her website or I can probably hook you up with an e-mail.