you greatly disappoint me

  Editing pictures for the Etsy updates in April (current pieces still on sale, 40% off with code MAKINGROOM) I was just going through old photo files and cleaning things up a bit when i found a hilarious picture of one of my charges.
        You need to know that Olive is very sweet and affectionate, but in her old house her favorite perch was on top of the high shelves in the studio so sometimes a girl would look up from her project and be startled by eyes looking down from the ceiling thusly:

when are dogs toddlers?

Wiggle. Wriggle. BARK!

Furry frenzy: four months old. 

Just a rolling blur.

four month old Sasza with Nannie Niki

bullet point bulletin

• Despite the rumors that you may have heard, i am not laying comatose in a lab at a secret military installation immersed in a brain wave study to discover a renewable energy source that will have the power to save the Earth and mankind: boon to civilization that will inevitably be weaponized and show harmful side effects after 30-50 years. 

• I could not tell you if i was involved in said completely hypothetical situation

• My winter visit to Ohio was extra long and i got to spend lots of time with my mom, go shopping with my sister, meet my nephew's girlfriend over Christmas dinner (which i got to cook - yay to my mom having a better kitchen than me!) and visit Rea's farm. 

• I did however learn that cows are quicker than you think.  When i pulled up in my car there was only one cow near the fence; by the time i got out of the car, there were four!  How did an 800 pound creature just appear like that?

• The fabled studio redo is almost done, finally.    It has been a long time coming, but Rea and I set-up an 8 week challenge through December and January to get things organized, purged and rearranged in our respective houses with a scrapbooking retreat together as a reward at the end so I was really motivated.    I have seriously sorted and purged things, getting rid of supplies or pieces of half-done ideas that have been cluttering up my studio and my mind for far too long. There are 7-9 more boxes/bags to be sorted, but i have all of the new shelving and storage in place so it is only a matter of deciding what to keep and putting the other things into the correct space.

• Tonight is the greatest night of the entire project: Labeling Night! Suzanne is coming over after work and we are going to label every box, bin, case, drawer and shelf in the studio, including relabeling anything already labeled so that all of the labels match.   MATCHING LABELS, PEOPLE! Clear, concise organization really makes my skirt fly up.

• The newest addition to Nannie Niki's menagerie is an 11 week old terrier mix named Sasza (pronounced like Sasha) and she is a cutie-patootie, reminding me of my beloved Chang.

• New Year's cards are done production and i am working on addressing and getting them in the mail. Watch your box.

• Though winter is mostly a fallow festival season, don't forget the Annual Jewlery Show at Objects Found over Super Bowl weekend. More info about the event will be posted here and on the NikCo FB page, which you should go Like right now, in case you haven't already.

• It has now been half of a year since my dad died and we have made it through the major holidays (except my and my brother's bbdays in May) without him for the first time. In no way i am through grieving, but i can feel some of the depression clouds parting.

• I continue along with the 101 Goals in 1001 Days, doing very well on some and miserably on others. Once we return from our retreat at the end of the month i have plan in the works to invest time in a few of the languishing ones, including getting back to writing on a regular basis

why doesn't this post have a title?

This morning i briefly woke up between dreams, barely opened my eyes and saw a sweet black kitty curled up just a few inches from my head sleeping that really deep sleep that only cats, ferrets and teen-aged boys seem to know.
Flooded with affection i rubbed my forehead on the top of its head and drifted back to sleep.
Except that it occurred to me that i don't own a cat.
Opened my eyes: sleeping black cat.
Closed my eyes really confused, Did i get a cat? Am i dreaming?
Opened my eyes and turned my head to a different angle: crumpley pillow in a dark flannel pillowcase.
A-ha.

Speaking of being in my bed, i love my bed.
I mean, i really love my bed: the cool iron headboard, the perfect mattress, my heated mattress pad, my pillow that i've slept with for 40 years, my fuzzy warm blankets.
Ahhhhhh... my bed.
Sometimes when it is time for my afternoon nap i don't even sleep. I just lie in my bed reveling in its awesomeness.
How much do i love my bed?
Rea sent me this video because in her words, As soon as i saw it, i thought of you and your bed.
[though i would like to point out that i generally don't go to bed with my cheek pouches full]
Bikke the Chip morning stretch

If you are wondering how i can possibly have the time to lollygag about in my bed, it is because i am self-employed. I am more creative at night so it makes sense for me to nap in the afternoon so that i can stay up.
Self- motivating is not my greatest strength so my BFF -who is also self-employed- and I talk once, twice, three times a lady... i mean once or twice a day to help each other map out goals, check progress, celebrate accomplishments and goad each other on.
A few mornings ago i was sitting at the dining  room table talking to her and realized that i was drinking yummy Earl Grey tea directly from the pot. The spout kept everything neat like a straw and i didn't have to wait to go get a cup.
I wonder if i have a caffeine problem...

 Spring means spring festivals for NikCo.
May 2nd and May 9th are already booked and i am deciding which Strawberry Festival i want to do.
Since a lot of festivals are harvest themed i have been looking for fruity beads for Quirkees and finally decided on these polymer ones:

Excited to sort them and start making earrings and bracelets, I got right to it after taking this picture and realized quickly that my idea of fruit and the maker's idea of fruit are a bit different.
There were the obvious ones, thank goodness.

Apple, pear, watermelon, strawberry and kiwi.
Orange, lemon, lime.
I am even okay with the pink apples and strawberries; even though they are not 100% realistic, it is obvious what they are and who doesn't love some pink?

Then there were these dotted ones that i had to stare at for a while before i decided that the top ones were longitudinal cross-sections of apple, and pear and the bottom ones are pomegranates, maybe.






And then there these random babies:
Obviously they are supposed to be citrus sections, but pink peel/pink flesh, lime peel/teal flesh, yellow peel/bright green flesh and dark bluey-green peel and flesh?
Where does this bead artist go shopping?
Finally there are the three beads that i cannot figure out for the life of me.

These are fruits, in theory.

Anybody got a guess?

Anyone?

random brain bits

I love visiting Florida.
Living there? Not so much.
But a nice week in the sunshine is just what is needed to relax, clear one's mind and start to shake off those winter doldrums.
There are record high temperatures this week.
The AC broke, so that's a bit unfortunate.
Still, i don't have to shovel heat.

Two weeks ago i couldn't close zip-top bags.
I use them every day in the studio.
I have never had any issue before, but suddenly, no matter how many times i slid my fingers down the top ridge, it wouldn't seal.
I tried different sizes and brands, but i was stymied.
What the what, people?
Then just as suddenly, last Tuesday i could close all of the bags again.
Sometimes i think my house must have been built over toxic waste and the fumes are making me hallucinate large parts of my life. It would explain a lot.

Going by someone's house yesterday on my constitutional, i saw small decorative piles of rocks placed as yard art and said, Oh look -  Inukshuks! to the no one riding along with me.
Then i paused to think, Why in the world do i even know that word? Inuit sculpture isn't something i encounter in my every day life.
It was from an episode of due South.
Betcha haven't thought about that show in a hot minute.
Who says tv isn't educational?
Upon closer investigation they were less traditional Arctic tribal art and more tiny little adorable  rock people.

i want them in my yard

Mental Morsel: the plural of inukshuk is not inukshuks as i thought, but rather inuksuit, which i have no idea have to pronounce.

Recently i heard some less than good news of a medical nature (not about me).
For the next 36 hours or so i had the Time For Your Checkup song from Doc McStuffins stuck in my head. A 43-year old woman with no children should not have to endure It's okay if you giggle; this will only tickle a little for that long.
Great. Now it is stuck in my head again.

Bonus Mental Morsel: despite sounding like most of the noble gasses (neon, argon, krypton, xenon and radon) the coolant Freon is not really a single chemical, but the trade name of a bunch of different chloroflourocarbons used as refrigerants.
Generally, Freon is four times heavier than air.

I can't believe it took me the last 25 minutes searching the internet to find that this guy's name is Sir Scoopsalot.

You know i can't resist a costume character and this guy was in Hampden, hon, handing out coupons to The Charmery.

If you haven't been to The Charmery in Baltimore, you need to go now.
They make all the ice cream in-house from local milk, invent interesting flavors and try to capture the spirit of our charming, quirky city.
I highly recommend the salty caramel.
Every day is the right day for ice cream, even if it is only 30 degrees.
Or you can get hot chocolate with house-made marshmallow.

The fountain in the lake in front of my dad's house goes off at 11:47 pm or, as my dad informed me when i pointed it out, 10:47 pm before daylight saving's time.
Nice round number, yeah?
It gives me pause.

Recently -maybe the last two months-  i have been using "totes" instead of totally when speaking.
Hello 2010, what are you doing here?
I didn't use that term when it was popular.
Why in the world would i suddenly start now?
I didn't even realize i was doing it until i heard one of my charges -a kindergartner no less- use it in a sentence and realized she had to have picked it up from me.
Now i am hyper-aware of when it slips into conversation and am really annoyed with myself.
So to all of the people with whom i might have had a conversation of late, i am sorry about resurrecting this lame slang.
I think i need to go with the snapping-rubberband-around-the-wrist aversion therapy to stop myself.

And finally, to end this stream of consciousness, kittens:

Spring 2014 with Erin, Caleb, Cameron and Collin

yesterday afternoon

up to something? what makes you think i am up to something?

credit: llama sanctutary

Just a hard-working llama, working hard on llama things.

Not working on any crazy projects or cockamamie schemes.

Nope.

And now, a pig in a boat

he's almost100 for goodness' sake

Welcome to another tale from The Suburban Jungle Book by Nikyard Hipling.
The average lifespan of a golden retriever is 11 years.

Max is 14.

Fourteen!

He has passed puppy, juvenile, dog and senior citizen, but he is still friendly and alert.
And not above trying to steal some of his sister's food.
Unbelievably, he is also still pretty spry.
Well. okay, spry might be reaching, but still pretty darn mobile for a nonagenarian.

Max has plenty of energy to continue practicing his hobbies of napping, pawing the carpet, napping, licking any exposed human skin he can find and napping.

Max in his favorite bed on the left and his other favorite bed on the right

Though not a big fan of steps, he can still get up and down them by himself. It might take a try or two so i always make sure that he has made it off of the porch before i close the backdoor.
One nice weather day i stayed outside to enjoy some fresh air and make a little vitamin D myself when i heard a crazy rustling sound.

Max was stretched out in the yard, paws in the air, rolling around like a puppy.
He squiggled and turned every which way with obvious joy.
There was pawwing and flailing and growling -the happy kind- and some quiet barks that were the closest things to a yip that a dog that size can make.
Sure, he flopped over tired and panting every once and a while, but he'd lay still for a few seconds, resting, sniffing the ground and then launch his paws back into the air for another round.

I have sat Max and his sister Zoe many times, but i will never forget the first time he completely shocked me with his energetic love of the outside.
Since then i have seen him shamble through the kitchen and stumble down the stairs only to run strong and graceful around the yard.
I guess no matter how old you are or how weak or tired, there is still joy to be found in the simple pleasure of rolling around in the sunshine.

of closed doors and chipmunks

Alexander Graham Bell is famously quoted on the topic of opportunity:

When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.

(it is also quoted as):

Sometimes we stare so long at a door that is closing that we see too late the one that is open.

Lately i have been hyper-focused on the sound of closing doors.

It seemed like that was all i could identify from the last few years:

-new job at work? SLAM, position never materializes

-continue in the field anyway? SLAM, you're fired

-golden opportunity to start a business? SLAM, depression takes hold

-business finally getting off of the ground? SLAM , business partner dies without a will

-travel to New Zealand? SLAM, travel companion dies (same guy) 

-work tirelessly on inheritance claim? SLAM, uncle he saw once in 20 years gets the money

-have regular customers and custom orders? SLAM, complete creative shut down

-several part-time jobs keeping impending financial doom at bay? SLAM, laid off

-creativity returns in time to augment income? SLAM, apathy

-finally turn the corner and start registering for the festival season? SLAM, broken shoulder the very next day

Obviously there was a lot of time in between all of those SLAMs.

Certainly good things happened along the way.

Definitely there are hundreds of millions of people -heck, billions of people- living in far worse circumstances.

Knowing those statements are true is easy, but believing them is a bit harder when you are in pain, forced to sit still in a sling, staring at the walls. 

Slipping from unhappiness into self-pity into depression into wallowing is startlingly simple and quick. My natural optimism and can-do attitude was simply no match for it.

For me the last eight weeks have been one long blur of timeless suckage.

But the other day i had a sparkle pony moment that changed everything.

Pulling into my driveway i saw a squirrel and a chipmunk running together from the house into the woods.

What were those two animal doing together?

Were they playing?

Were they racing?

Were they going for the same nut?
Were they in love?

They looked so ridiculous that i laughed out loud.

Later i started thinking about how much i like chipmunks, with their tail-high zippiness and then realized that i hadn't seen any this season.

Or last season.

In fact, i'm not sure when i last saw a chipmunk in my yard.

The next day i saw a pair of chipmunks.  I don't think i have ever seen two chipmunks that were obviously working and playing together. 
It made my withery, shrouded heart leap for joy.

Leaning out the window to see them better i noticed a flurry of motion in the trees. It was a group of finches flitting about, enjoying the lovely autumn day. That reminded me of the day i performed in PA with a serious fever and thought i hallucinated gold finches until fTM Matt took a picture of them to prove to me that they were real (which is a happier memory than it sounds).

And i cared again.

Just like that.

I could see the open door.

"i'm being chased by a snake in a fur coat"

I have never seen a dog chase its tail in real life.
I always assumed that it was one of those things used in cartoons and comics that doesn't actually happen.
This morning i was enlightened and delighted.

BTW, the title of this post comes from my all-time favorite Garfield comic strip.
(i think somewhere i still have the original that i clipped out of the paper when it was first published in the early/mid-80s)

a girl and her cow

Sooooooper cute close-up!

Meet Papi

Oh how i love housesitting, especially borrowing other people's pets for a little while.
The newest addition to my temporary menagerie is a black labrador retriever named Papi.
Well, he's mostly a black lab -about 75%- with a little something mixed in there, resulting in white toes on his hind paws and a fabulous white blaze on his chest. As a puppy his tremendously large and floppy ears -which he has grown into nicely - looked like they'd flap right off of his head like a butterfly or papillion in French, hence Papi.
Here are a few of Papi's usual attitudes:

I don't know what we're doing, but you have a cookie in your hand so i will play along.






Hi there! Wanna give me a cookie?







Was that the sound of someone opening the cookie jar?

When not eating cookies,
thinking about cookies,
asking for cookies
or going outside simply to convince you to give him a cookie, Papi enjoys playing tug of war and napping in a wing back chair.


Thoroughly an indoor dog  [when i took him out for a walk in the snow he was so, so, so excited to put on the leash and ran right out of the house directly to the car, assuming we were going for a ride; he stopped at every car along the street and looked at me like, Is this the car we're going in?], he does still have some genetic memory of being a retriever.

Look what i killed  for you!

Super excited to meet new people, Papi will spend 10 minutes ripping the stuffing out of a toy and then proudly present the eviscerated remains to said new person.


Papi's daddy, who was in Florida, is an antiques dealer and it shows in the house:

the hallway is better decorated and lit than some museum, the guest room is nicer and more beautiful than most hotels, the dog eats out of cut crystal bowls, the oven is used to store fabulous copper cookware (found out after preheating it to 450 degrees) and many items, like this rug, have tags on them like you could just buy them right there and then.
The bed in the guestroom is a one-of-a-kind daybed/chaise that is beautiful and comfortable; however, fitting a full grown lab and a not-insubstantial Niki onto a twin mattress was interesting, but after some accidental clawing, cold toes and issues about who was sleeping on which side (i don't sleep well unless i am on the right) we figured out that with an extra blanket and proper preparation it was indeed possible.

Such a pretty bed.

Unique. Classy. Lovely. Small.

The dog steals covers.

true story from the farm

Chicken followed me,
under foot, to and fro. STOP
You're freaking me out!

he kept tripping me; i almost broke my leg

goodbye sunshine

not as dead as advertised

Waiting on the mat,

reaching to knock on my door,

little dead brown bat.

On the way to work one Thursday i opened my door to this sight.

Why is a bat out of its home in the dead of winter?
Alone?
How did it get into the house?
Why does it look like it was crawling toward my door?
What killed it?
What am i gonna do with a bat body?
Is this going to make me late for work?

I fetched a paper towel to be its wee funeral shroud and long handles tongs to pick it up since i didn't know if there were diseases involved. Of course, Mr Bat had a death grip on the mat fibers with his claws so i had to kinda pry each hand off which caused him to flip on his back and start moving.
NOT DEAD, PEOPLE, NOT DEAD

And that quickly it went from a clean-up to a rescue operation.
Find a small box, punch holes, line with paper towels, scoop Mr. Bat into the box, give him a little massage to warm him and get the blood moving and then shred more paper towels over top to hold in the heat.
At the emergency vets i got the number of an injured wildlife shelter and headed off to work with my bat in a box. (i told the vet tech, I found an injured bat. to which she said Is it alive? Honestly lady? I am at the vet's, holding a box with holes in it, do you think it is alive?)
I was able to nurse him through most of the day, but his condition was too severe. At least i know he expired in comfort instead of in the hallway.

PSA: taking an injured bat in a box to work in NOT a good way to find out your boss is terrified of all flying animals

one of THOSE days...

You know the days I mean: everything you touch seems to come apart.
Nothing truly bad happens.
Glassware breaks, things are left at home, lunches can't be found.
It isn't even bad enough to be the work of the thwart-hog.
It is more like an annoying anteater lumbering through your life, knocking things over with that huge furry tail and licking everything in sight with its crazy tongue.
Yes, I'd say my day in covered in anteater spit.

original image at aazk.com

in which i give the paparazzi what for

I'm having fun editing the pictures from Amy's and my adventure to Elioak Farms and integrating them with mine to tell the story of the day.
Rea and I maintain that we need staff photographers to capture our lives so that we can be IN the pics instead of just behind the camera.
Looking at Amy's pictures of the day reinforces that thought because there are a jillion pics of me to choose from: me with goats, me with horses, me with giant shoes, me with alarming bears.
There is however one snap that makes me wonder if I would actually like having my photographer:

Wow.

I look super unamused.

Funnily enough, I don't even remember looking up at this moment and Amy had been there the whole time so it isn't like I was suddenly Why can't you vultures leave me alone on my day off? Can't you see that I am having a moment with these goats? Go earn an honest living that doesn't involve barely legal stalking!
Plus the whole day was fun, fun Laughing-ville so I was never actually this unamused.
It does however give me a good avatar to use when I need to broadcast utter disdain with an undernote of incredulous.

Don't you even...

randomly catching up

The festivals/ craft shows every weekend continue to go well and i thank all of those who have come out to say HI to me. However, continuing in the grand tradition of my first ever festival, the thwart-hog continues to plague me with the sorts of illnesses/injuries on festival days that only seem to occur in the Nikiverse.
I woke up with my jaw locked at 4am for the Hereford Festival; given my handling of broken metal daily tetanus didn't seem like too far of a stretch. Good news: as with many Nikillnesses after  a few days of handling symptoms - odd swelling, shooting pains that came and went, a hole in my lip that may or may not have been related - everything cleared up just as i decided that I needed to see a doctor.
Getting ready to leave for the OMHS craft fair I managed to catch my foot on a mirror that is up against a wall and slice the entire webbing between my third and fourth toes. Mind you, the mirror is flush to the wall and I walk by it 10-15 times a day. Ever tried to bandage between and under toes while bleeding profusely? Take my advice: don't bother. Dump on peroxide, wad in a bunch of sterile gauze, tape the toes together and pop two tylenol. You can be out the door in under six minutes, pain-free and without a blood trail. Viva Frontier Medicine!
Last weekend, the Browse and Buy was mostly incident-free so maybe we've broken the chain. We'll see this Saturday for the Emanuel Lutheran holiday craft festival.

When do you wash out your salt and pepper shakers?
I needed to do a refill on my table shakers -blue flower corelle ware from my childhood- and the cooking shakers -tall Tupperware cylinders from everybody's childhood. With Maryland humidity you add rice to the salt to keep it from clumping and normally I just pour more salt in since the rice doesn't come out during use, but this time I decided to get new rice as well. Dumping  the little bit of salt/rice mixture left in both shakers into a bowl I could make the right rice/salt ratio to put back in the shakers and as I reached for them it occurred to me that I never wash my salt and pepper shakers. They get low, I add more, they get low, I add more, over and over again.
In fact, I couldn't recall ever washing them or seeing anyone was them. Ever.
Salt and Pepper shakers are never empty so when would you wash them? Weird.
So I dumped the pepper left into a bowl as well and then soaked all of the shakers and caps. In fact, I emptied my light bulb pepper mill and washed it up as well. Everything is now shiny clean and filled with new salt and pepper. That should suffice for at least another 20 years, right?

Dr Cool basically told me that I needed to do a routine eye checkup before I saw her again or she was going to beat me. Not really, but she did shoot a stern and disappointed look in my direction which is the equivalent of a physical threat to my people-pleasing heart.
Though glaucoma runs in both sides of my family my eye pressure is fine.
But, I am getting old.
My visual acuity is down to 20/20.
sigh...
I know all of you glasses-wearers out there have no sympathy for me at all, but you need to understand that at one time I had 20/13 vision. fTM Brian used to call me Eagle Eye; now I am just Human Eye. It doesn't have quite the same ring, does it?
In fact, my lazy, slacker right eye is way down at 20/25. Sub-par and unacceptable right eye. In fact, I will need 1.0 reading glasses within the next couple of years.
sigh...
In brighter news I think I have found a new look for myself and perhaps the next breaking fad:

Even on a completely overcast,  rainy day my freakishly light blue eyes have to be covered when dilated (look closely and you can see the tiny ring of blue). These disposable UV blockers really work with the shape of my face; I think you will be seeing them on the Milan runways next season.


On the way to the eye doctor a guy backed into my car; I mean, we were on a one-way street, he stopped, put his car in reverse and backed right into me despite my frantic honking.
There was no damage, but what the heck?
He claimed he didn't see me (or apparently my entire freaking CAR).
The doctor commented that a lot of accidents do happen in his parking lot because he is an eye doctor after all, but it actually wasn't in his parking lot.
Do these insane things only happen to me or am I just the only one to admit it?

Speaking of crazy, I took this picture three days ago.

These beautiful blooms were in the midst of naked trees and brush.
They look like something in the azalea/ mountain laurel family which are spring and summer flowers respectively.
Does anyone know if there is an autumn blooming version?
Mayhaps it just bloomed late.
Or had enough energy for a second blooming.
Or didn't get the winter memo.
Regardless of how it was heartening to see this last burst of life.
 
Spontaneous generation has been disproven for centuries, but I can understand why it seemed so reasonable for millennia.
Last week I bagged up all of my trash to go out and then got distracted by something -probably shiny- so it sat in the kitchen. Two days there were tiny flies buzzing around alerting me to my oversight.
It is winter, the doors and windows are closed and there were no flies just 2 days earlier.
Where did these freaking flies come from?
Took the trash out, but the flies remained so being proactive I bought some fly strips.
They are ugly, but effective.
The directions say pull the cord and unwind the strip like a ribbon which sounds easy enough. I don't know what kind of ribbon is familiar to those direction writers because it was all stuck together and then a crazy tube and then in my hair. After 15 minutes more than it probably should have taken my fly strip was ribbon-like and hanging. Despite the difficult installation it did indeed catch all of my magically appearing flies and has been properly disposed of in a trash bag  that went immediately to the curb.

The Browse and Buy last weekend was at the Catonsville Historical Society again this year.  Arriving so early on Saturday that I was locked out of the building where NikCo was set up, I took the chance to wander the grounds.

Last year I only went around the side and saw the giant railroad crossing sign, but I went all the way around to the back where there is a nature walk.
This cool, old rail runs to right before the start of the trail.
I love how it looks like the track has been abandoned and nature is reclaiming the space with plants and rocks.
Wait...
What is going on with that one rock at the end?

Now THAT is random.

quickly random

I am so excited by today's jewelry that I couldn't wait until the next jewelry round-up to share.

I found this crazy bow with a cascade of pink berries a few years ago. Having never seen anything like it before and it being the just-right Niki price of $6 meant that it had to come home with me.
The intention was to wear it in my hair, but the right outfit never came along.
Last night I decided that i wanted to wear this super soft burgundy sweater for the first time this season - i love, love, love sweaters and welcome each one back joyously when i put it on for the first time - and thought the pink button-down and jeans would compliment it nicely.
Then realized that this was the right outfit finally for the crazy pink berry pin. I am so happy to finally have a chance to see how cool it hangs that i actually got up earlier than necessary to get dressed.
So happy.

Yesterday i trimmed my hair and added some more layers.
It looks pretty cute, but the cutting was prompted by a philosophical conundrum. The cooler weather has really made it nice to wear bouncy,  haphazard curls -yes, i am probably the only person who purposely makes her hair look haphazard- but a few days ago something crazy was going on with my hair. One side was perfect and the other was a train wreck.
I mean, what was i supposed to do with that?
Just average my head?
After thinking about that for a while i decided the easiest course of action was simply to cut my hair.

Is there anything cuter than wee, tiny baby animals?
This ginger kitten was less than 10 days old and could barely open its eyes.
Love it.
It took a lot of will power not to adopt him .












Speaking of love, have i ever mentioned my affinity for polishing silver?
No?
That is probably because i hate polishing silver.
As a kid i didn't really like it.
But then i decided that it was cool to watch the glean emerge from the grime.
Well into adulthood i liked polishing.
Until i worked at an antique store where i stupidly admitted to liking it.
Guess who polished all the time?
For hours on end?
Now even the smell of polish makes my hands itch.
Blech.

Wanna guess what i am avoiding right now by writing this blog post?