Thank you to everyone at the NY Gift show– customers, booth neighbors, and even the people who run the show, GLM. I had a great time (and it helped too that the new location is beautiful).
Thank goodness I had an enjoyable 5 days commuting to NYC– every morning at the train station I had to say goodbye to this face:
Now, back to the grindstone!
I’ve had this necklace for 5? 10? years and I always get compliments on it. Frankly, it’s awesome.
A luscious square of glass.
See Yummi Glass here.
I have no idea why I love golf. By that I mean I have no idea why golf has stolen my heart in the same way that I love period romance literature+movies like Pride and Prejudice (May I suggest? There’s a BBC reality multi-part series Regency House Party that I can’t recommend enough.)
I used to follow baseball. The Yankees. [Maybe I shouldn't have incriminated myself by admitting that.] Yes, there’s romance in baseball. The history, the big green expanse of outfield and the laconic pace of the game all wooed me.
After those Yankees won so many games in a row my interest in the game waned. And the baseball announcers I loved to hear, Michael Kay and John Sterling, were no longer commentating together. I kinda felt like the party ended for me, and it was time to move on. So I didn’t follow sports for a while.
When I was pregnant with my daughter I spent a lot of time laying on the couch in the living room. We only had 5 TV channels to choose from, and on weekends there’s really nothing worth watching…except for ladies’ golf.
I became a quasi expert, learning that the 40 year old Julie Inkster was an avid runner and her teenage daughter was along with her on the LPGA tour, and the youngsters Paula Creamer and Lorena Ochoa were the talented up-and-comers. It fascinated me that there can be a 20 year age difference among the players. And pro golf players come in all shapes and sizes– lean or rotund, short or tall, golf doesn’t discriminate.
There’s not very much LPGA TV coverage these days so I’ve learned to love the PGA too. The intrinsic solidarity of golf is fascinating to me– each golfer’s got a caddy for support but the game is the golfer’s to win or lose. Every golf shot is important, but the putts near the hole are often moments filled with suspense and tense with anticipation. It’s not a game about losing; you can root for everyone and just a little more for your favorite guy (that’d be Phil Mickelson, of course).
Oh, the drama!
Honestly, for me there is nothing better than a cold drink, a comfy chair and a golf game on TV. I’m relaxing while watching others hard at work–at a sporting event–where it’s grassy, leafy and gorgeous. Ah, personal bliss.
I bought these sandals and they’re all I can think about.
It may look as though I can carry on working as I did before, but it’s just not the case. My mind is processing at only half-capacity, while the other half dreamily waxes on about this being the best summer ever because now I own a really sweet! pair of sandals.
I think it’s the platform soles that are causing meltdown. Or maybe it’s because they’re Dansko, and I never dreamed they’d make a pair of summer slip-on shoes. Cannot. Compute. Happiness. Overload. Over. Shoes.
I bought them at Nordstrom, but they’re also available here.
My parents and I went to an Italian restaurant when I was little, I believe it was called Linda’s, and I think they had a drive up window for take-out and a horse living in the back.
I’m fuzzy on those details, but there’s one thing that I remember clear as day: the Mousse Mountain dessert. A shortbread cookie was piled high with chocolate mousse, covered in a hard chocolate shell and topped with a maraschino cherry.
I’ve never been a huge fan of mousse, and I’m not sure that this Mousse Mountain was spectacularly tasty. I think I was in love with the idea of getting the dessert, not so interested in eating it. [Maybe that's a common characteristic among children-- my 3 year old daughter's the same way; she loves talking about cake, making cake, but when a slice of cake is on her plate she may -or may not- remember to finish it.]
I’ve been wondering why the Mousse Mountain memory has remained with me. Over the years I’ve been curious to see if the restaurant is still there (I believe it’s not) because I’ve wondered how it would be to eat that dessert again.
Is there something more to be had by tasting the food of your yore? Or is the flavor in your memory just as good, or better, than the real thing?
This morning is overcast with threatening rain. Perfect conditions for photography.
I took this an hour ago.
I’ve uncovered a nasty and disturbing trend in the way I approach my work. I have something looming [TAXES!] and I write it on my to do list every day. I proceed to ignore it on my list… and I repeat this process every day.
Massive realization: I’m using a twisted carrot and stick approach to getting my work done, and I’m using TAXES! as my looming cloud of doom. How so? I dutifully write down TAXES! on my to do list every day and immediately think to myself: that’s not going to get done today…as long as I have more important things [ie money-making] things to do. So I proceed to get my list of things done in short order, quick like a bunny, super-efficient to prove to myself how many things are so much more worthy of doing than my taxes.
Now that I have outed myself and my behavior is public, I’m wondering if this is what it’ll take to refocus on what’s going to happen if this TAXES! thing is not addressed… and I know the solution is to do what needs to get done and not what I’d rather do.
Maybe I should make a list of truly heinous to do options (scrub the toilet, do inventory, file papers) and TAXES would be the least offensive task on my list.
I’ll do that on Monday…
I design and sell stuff, and that’s really nice. I like doing the work and it’s fun to meet people and sell my products. But my life experience leads me to believe that I’ve got more worth sharing than my design skills.
Ever since I can remember I’ve always been the artsy one. Not self-defined, it’s just been common knowledge, Linda’s the artist. I really can’t pinpoint any art I was making that anyone knew about but somehow they knew. And I spent my entire academic career in a mostly artless environment.
I had no exposure to art other than the generic art class everyone goes to… and goofs off in… the art classes that are more or less devoid of actual art instruction. To be completely forthright, I did minor in art in college, but again, it was more like glorified babysitting than art education. How much do liberal art students want to immerse themselves in hours of artwork? My personal experience leads me to believe– as little as possible.
I did eventually make it to art school, about 10 years ago at the age of 26. And it was the most fantastic time of my life, art-wise. To be immersed in an environment where everyone cares about what they see and how to interpret or re-engineer, or re-think an idea…heaven.
Why should I keep this joie de vivre to myself? How can I? I can’t.
Next week, we start up something together.
I’m outspoken, but I also avoid telling people what I really think. Because I don’t know if they want to listen. Or maybe they like the idea of me better than knowing who I really am. It’s a strange thing, the internet, b/c it’s like an inanimate object is begging me to share. (How can that be?)
So I feel compelled to use this bloggy technology. Plus I’ve got this bug up my a [read: ass] to get people involved with their environment and their creativity, maybe a passion they’re not in touch with, that they might not even know about yet. With my special artist/designer/bs cutting powers I can divine the stuff that isn’t so obvious to others. It’s my Art-Magic. (Trademarked, of course.)
Tomorrow it’s a little nutshell-bio from me, and by next week I’ll get us started on a little activity together. It’s gonna be awesome, I promise.
I’ve got a burning desire. To share what I know. What is it that I know?
I’ve lived and worked among people who are not thinking about how things can be different. I’m not saying I’m the only person thinking anything worthwhile, I’ve just been the one thinking what if? when other people are not stopping to think or ask questions, they’re just getting the job done. Whether its school or work or watching a movie. I’m taking the opportunity to try out different scenarios in my mind, and asking why do we do it this way? and I think it makes my experience so much more interesting and colorful. And it leads to solving problems. Alleviating stress. Seeing what is really there instead of making assumptions about other people.
I remember reading about someone who was a detective. They said as a child they used to memorize license plates and other descriptive information, just for practice. I thought it was a great idea, and tried it several times myself, but it never seemed to work. I didn’t have the desire to learn that skill; it’s not part what I’m driven to do.
One thing I am good at is looking at things and seeing detail as well as the big picture. Tangible things, like the objects in a room, or a story someone has about their co-worker. I can pick out the important info and discount the rest. I’m like a bird of prey– I can pick out where the food is and swoop down to get it. I can see the bs (that’s short for bullshit, people).
So combine my love of art and design with my penchant for truthiness, as Stephen Colbert would call it, and it’s like a deadly combination. In a good way. I’m like Zorro but instead of a sword I have a bs cutter. Please don’t ask what it looks like, it’s metaphorical.
Create a design, tell a story, share the info. But cut the s (that’s short for shit.)
