I've (FINALLY) listed more items on my lovely little ETSY store. My newest items are all vintage items. They are hard to part with, but I feel I must or I'm liable to bury my patient, loving husband in my overflowing stockpile of vintage goodies. I'm cooking up some more handmade jewelry ideas, as well, so I'll try to start listing those soon.
Yesterday Matt and I spent the afternoon wandering the streets of Little Italy (a charming neighborhood in downtown San Diego) engaging in some squeaky-clean, wholesome Guerilla Art.
As some of you probably know all too well, I have an obsession with picking things up off the ground. Maybe it started when, as a kid, I quickly learned that the sun and I are enemies and that to shield my eyes from it's fierceness was vital to my survival, thus kick-starting my fascination with the ground instead of the sky. It's probably genetic, though, as there is definite family tendency towards this behavior on my mom's side. My grandpa was notorious for finding treasures tucked here and there on the sidewalk. In college one of my favorite tank tops was one that I found run over in the back-alley outside my apartment. And I've worn many a fabulous baseball cap gleaned from the ditches of the beautiful Mid-West.
I have plans to someday (when I'm old and delightfully senile) open a Found Museum and display all my findings in some road-side shack and charge a buck or two to passing road-trippers who see my billboard on the side of the highway and just can't bring themselves to miss a rare opportunity like that.
The largest display in my Found Museum would be dedicated to all those single shoes I see littering the world. Who loses a shoe? Seriously! Why just one? It's such a mystery to me how that even happens. I see them everywhere.
As many of you might know, the US Open was in San Diego last week. My very entrepreneurial friend is selling this little gem on Ebay as a Tiger Woods memento. Nice work, Steven!
My husband gave up coffee today. This is a man who can drink an entire pot of coffee at 11pm and still fall asleep within minutes of getting into bed. I'm inclined to think he's an addict, but quitting cold-turkey like this seems a bit drastic. His dependence on caffeine has become quite evident tonight, though. He passed out on couch within an hour of coming home from work and hasn't moved yet. He's out cold. Poor guy. This could be a rough month for us...
So the last two days yielded nothing. Highly anti-climatic. Sorry, folks. All in all though, I still had fun!
Total Spent: $30 Total Won: 9 Tickets + $11
And as for the cold, hard cash nesting quietly in our freezer--Our little wager among friends left someone in our group $1 richer than when they started. The BIG WINNER (with a winning guess of $85) is....
SARAH!!!
Much to my surprise, Matt and Nate were counting on me to win them their millions. Matt guessed $214 and Nate estimated a whopping $913.25. I definitely had them pegged incorrectly. I guess I did encourage them in the beginning to go big or go home. Turns out Sarah was the reasonable one among the bunch. I told you she was a wildcard. And I'm excited, 'cause she promised that we'd spend the winnings on sushi! I'd say I definitely came out ahead.
So what do I take from this experience? Any valuable life lessons gleaned along the way? Will I accept that lottery tickets are a total scam and turn from them for all eternity? Umm...nah. I don't think so. I will agree that it's probably a waste of money. I certainly don't think the lottery would be so successful if the average joe-schmoe actually came out ahead. However, I still LOVE scratch-off tickets and can't foresee them disappearing completely from my life. I'll probably just leave them as they were before this little experiment of mine--a fun treat best left for long roadtrips.
Perhaps I should try my luck at the $2 tickets next time...
I guess they wouldn't be able to keep the lottery afloat if it were actually profitable for those of us suckers who continue to buy tickets on a regular basis. Three more days have passed and yet still no more money. I still think there's got to be a big payout coming my way in the next two days. Otherwise this little experiment of mine will be highly anti-climactic.
Sadly, no cash to add to my stash today. I won a second ticket, but nothing more. Oh well. Just a few more days to go until the big reveal (as to which crazy hooligan gets all the winnings)!
Matt and I got back last night from our 5-day excursion to Chicago. I'd been there once before, but I somehow forgot what a beautiful, established city it is. The architecture is stunning, especially when covered with a lovely dusting of snow.
Lovely Lion
It's been nearly two years since I've frolicked in the snow and it was absolutely fantastic. I know it's been an especially harsh winter for many of my fellow Americans this year and it probably sounds hollow coming from a girl who spends many of her days basking in the lovely San Diego sunshine, however, I REALLY miss cold weather--especially snow. I find innate joy in seeing my breath on a cold, frosty morning. I firmly believe that I look best in layers. Bikini beach weather is rather lost on a sun-sensitive gal like myself. I get sunburned just thinking about it. Maybe after four months of winter, I too would be ready for the soft breezes of spring, but regardless, it was great to spend a few days enjoying the cold.
Happy in the Snow
A lovely little store, managed by a former KU grad
Amy and Brad were lovely hosts and we spent lots of time lounging amidst their half-unpacked moving boxes and staying up waaaay too late. We ate alot (including Chicago-style hotdogs!), laughed even more, and watched lots and lots of basketball on their new flat-screen TV. They've got a great apartment, complete with a view directly into the new Trump Tower ballroom. Pretty fantastic. It was also wonderful meeting up with our friends, Adam and Jessica, whom sadly we have no pictures of. I can't wait to go back and visit soon!
Between yesterday and today, I'm up another $5! There may still be hope. Actually, these most recent winnings guarantees that either Matt, Nate, or Sarah (depending on who the closest bidder is at the end of all these shenanigans) makes back their initial investment, plus a $1 gain. Not bad, not bad at all. And of course I'm still quite convinced that I've got a big win coming my way any day now. I still have six days left of my little experiment to strike it rich. Wish me luck!
So far Chicago has not proved itself to be a profitable place to play the lotto. Two days in this city and no big money. Although you might think that there's not much to scratch tickets, thus far, Chicago has the most satisfying scratchers I've encountered. The games yield the best suspense. When you've scratched as many lottery tickets as I have in the past month, you come to realize there a many fine nuances to scratch tickets. Some are just clearly more fun than others.
From the title of this post you can probably venture to guess that the last three days yielded very little. I won an extra ticket yesterday, but that's it. I'm only two-thirds through this little experiment of mine, but I better start winning some serious cash soon. Matt and I landed in Chicago tonight (we're spending the week with Brad and Amy!), so perhaps the Illinois State Lottery will energize my winnings a bit.
So Friday, Saturday, and Sunday resulted in winning 2 extra tickets, but still no more cold, hard cash. One thing worth mentioning is just how darn friendly all the gas station attendants usually are. Everyone of them wishes me good luck when I buy my daily ticket. My favorite guy will sometimes even hold the ticket I just bought up to his ear and shake it a bit, telling me it's very lucky before handing it to me. Maybe he's listening for that familiar rustle of all the dollar bills hidden within the card. Hmmmm...not sure what to make of that. It makes things interesting, at least.
I can't decide if I'm becoming addicted yet or not. It is rather disappointing losing all the time. That could keep me from making it a permanent fixture in my daily routine. We'll just have to wait and see.
It's necessary that I start this post with a bit of background information. Upon our first visit back to the states after moving to Hong Kong (last April, to give you some time reference), I was excited to hear what was playing on American Top 40 radio stations. I felt so out of the loop, not knowing the most recent Kelly Clarkson or Britney Spears release. One of the little gems I heard, contained a ridiculous chorus that went something like:
(Growly Male Voice with crap-tastic rap in the background): "If a girl's hot, you know she's hot, 'cause she's hot just like her mama....If a girl's hot you know she's hot--she's hot just like her mama..." "Where'd you get your hot, hot looks?"
(Whiny Female Voice with the crap-tastic rap continuing in the background): "I got them from my mama... I got them from my mama..."
Needless to say, it was bad. Really, really bad. So bad it was hilarious.
So, with that little bit of nonsense out of the way, today I went to the corner store to get my daily lottery ticket, and upon entering the shop, I got thoroughly looked up and down by a visibly inebriated man in the process of buying a large bottle of Jack Daniels.
"Blippss....," I heard him mutter.
I looked him straight in the eye, and gave him a clear look implying that if he had something to say regarding my body, he better say it straight to me.
"Hips," I heard him say a little more clearly. "You got nice hips, lady."
Without hesitation and perfectly straight-faced, I declared, "I got them from my mama."
It took everything in my power not to bust a smile. The station attendant was cracking-up, though, so maybe he got the reference.
I was going to track down the video online and post it here, but I don't think it's crabby-rangoon appropriate. I'll let you fine folks hunt it down yourself. It's sure to be a classic someday. An oldie, but a goody, for sure.
***--------Ok, folks, forgive me. After I finished this post I went and looked up the video, and decided it was too funny not to post. SO, here it is in all it's glory. Again, please forgive me for subjecting you to this music video. And, PLEASE NOTE--viewer discretion advised. It's really, really stupid. Don't say I didn't warn you.--------***
$4 Smackaroos! Who needs Vegas when you've got the California State Lottery?! My winnings are going straight into the freezer 'til the end of the month.
A net gain of ZERO today. I did win a second ticket, but to no avail. It's still early, though. I foresee a big finish. It would be highly anti-climactic if I won the big bucks too early in the game.
Total Spent: $6 Total Won: 2 Tickets + $0
(Hopefully you all aren't bored to tears yet. I figured this would be a sure-fire way to get me blogging on a daily basis again. So far so good...)
So I'm wondering if this little experiment of mine will have lasting adverse effects. At first I thought it might cure me of my lottery love once and for all (by making a chore out of it), but I'm thinking that it might do the opposite and leave me addicted for life. Isn't there some kind of old saying that states "to make a habit for life, you have to keep at it for at least two weeks straight..." or something like that. This could spell trouble.
Today I had mixed results. I won a second ticket, but no cash yet. I was only 1 scratch away from winning $1,000 buckaroos. I guess that's how they keep you coming back for more, eh?
I love lottery tickets. I love, love, love them. They definitely rank up there with beauty pageants, Mexican radio stations, vacuuming, and corn dogs. The scratch-off variety in particular is my favorite. I know they're often referred to as a "poor man's tax" and we've all been preached to at some point in our lives about the pure waste of money that lottery tickets are, but I've often wondered if this is completely true or not. For some time now I've been cooking up the idea of a month-long experiment where I buy a $1 scratch-off lottery ticket each day and track my winnings and losses. So last night over dinner with Nate, Sarah and Matt, I was again expressing my innate love for lottery tickets and pondering a potential experiment, when Nate suggested something brilliant.
He, Sarah, and Matt should each pay in $10 to fund my lottery experiment. At the beginning of the month, each contributor would write down just how much money they expected me to win (or lose) over the course of 1 month, and at the end of that month, the person guessing the amount closest to the actual winnings would then win all the money. And I would get the pure and complete pleasure of purchasing and scratching-off tickets every day for an entire month! (And with any luck, Matt would win the cash and I would get to share the winnings.) Ideally, there will actually be money to win at the end of the month. I'm ridiculously optimistic and suggested that Matt guess $325 or higher. Nate is very mathematical about it and was closely considering the odds involved. I think his guess will be approximately $3.50. Sarah is a wildcard. For emphasis, I had each of them write their guess down on a piece of paper and seal it in an envelope, which I am keeping in our freezer until the end of the month. (Gets them thinking about all that "cold, hard cash" they could win 30 days from now.)
There are some basic rules:
I purchase 1 lottery ticket each day. I play that ticket until it is finished. For example, if I scratch off my card only to win another ticket, I immediately trade it in for a second ticket, and so on, until I either leave with cash or nothing at all. If I win cash, I take it home and stick it in a jar, not to be touched until the end of the month when the grand total is revealed and all that cold, hard cash is doled out to that lucky someone.
That's about it. Very straight forward. Can't wait to watch the cash come flowing in.
At about 11:15pm tonight, a few of us decided to call up AVIS and rent a fabulous minivan and spend all day tomorrow tooling around Mexico. I feel like such a grown-up! It's like that moment in college when you're sitting in front of the TV with your feet propped up on the coffee table, a spoonful of Lucky Charms in one hand, a corn dog in the other, and you realize there is no one telling you to go to bed. Such liberation. Although perhaps while I was getting hyped up on sugar and watching late-night reruns of the Simpsons, all the cool kids were rebelling and heading to the border in stolen cars. Guess I might be a late bloomer. Regardless, Tijuana, here I come!
So I just told a door-to-door salesman that I didn't want to buy any magazine subscriptions tonight because I was trying to cut down on my paper consumption and I read blogs instead of magazines now. That's not completely the truth, as I have 3 shiny new magazines sitting on my coffee table as I write, the result of a delayed flight last week. I felt bad about lying (mildly, anyway), until he told me he has done research into the matter and found that buying excessive amounts of paper products is good because for every 10 trees chopped down, 12 more are planted. I find this hard to believe.
Within hours of getting my new cell phone number in San Diego, I started getting calls for a man named Martin (usually pronounced "Mar-teeeenh" with a thick accent). They don't come too often, maybe 12 calls in the last 4 months, but enough for me to notice and get mildly annoyed. Perhaps the root of my annoyance is that at least half of these calls have been made during the wee hours of the morning.
I always answer, of course, because if someone's calling me past midnight, the caller on the other end usually has something very important to share with me. So I answer, groggily, only to discover someone yelling in my ear "Mar-teeeeeehn... something in Spanish... Mar-teeeeehn... something else in Spanish...." and so on, at which point I tell them they have the wrong number and to pleeeeease tell everyone they know that Martin has fled the country and no longer has this number. I took Martin to be quite the partier.
That is, until this morning, when I learned the truth about Martin.
Martin is/was an immigration officer.
The man who called at 2 am last night asking for Martin called again this morning to explain that his girlfriend got her visa taken away last night at the Mexican border and he was trying desperately to resolve the matter and if I could just please be kind enough to give him Martin's new phone number he wouldn't bother me again. Poor guy. I told him I didn't know who Martin was and wished him luck. Guess I should stop telling people that Martin has fled the country. They might not think that's very funny after all.
A few weeks ago I was telling my boss that I keep getting calls and text messages (in Spanish) for some guy that used to have my number.
"Is it Armando?" he said quickly. "Because I get calls for him all the time and apparently he owes alot of people alot of money." Glad to know I'm not the only one...
Do you ever have those moments on the phone when someone asks you to spell back to them your name, address, etc. at which point you have to implement the "A as in Apple," "B as in Bob," etc. technique? Since I spend my days on the phone making appointments for people, I do this all the time. And more often then not, I suffer from something I fondly refer to as "brain freeze". It's when my brain turns into mush, rendering my speech completely useless.
Try as I might, when pressed to use this technique, mishaps abound. Usually I can't think of any words at all, leaving me to stutter about sounding a fool, but on the rare occasion that I find a word, it's usually so obscure as to be laughable.
"Um...that's..."E as in Esophagus", "R as in Retch", "I as in Impertinent", "K as in Kartoffel (German for potato)", "A as in Aspartame"...
And so on.
Or worse, I think of a word only to crack myself up at the inappropriateness of it. There's just never a point in which saying "V as in Vagina" or "B as in Blow job" to your mechanic over the phone is acceptable.
It was especially problematic in Hong Kong, as there was already a bit of a language barrier to begin with. Try as I might to choose simple, easily recognizable words, I usually came up with things like "T as in Tallahassee" or "L as in Lollipop." It never went well.
Surely I'm not the only dingbat who suffers from this right...?
Matt and I ordered ourselves a proper tree this year, but seeing as we've only been married a few years and don't have any finger-paintin' young-ins to bring home sticky, hand-made ornaments yet, I got crafty tonight and started to make some of my own. This is what I've come up with so far: I've still got my work cut out for me in order to get our tree looking full and dazzling, but so far so good. Feel free to stop by and join in the festivities if you're in the neighborhood. I'd be more than happy to lend you a pair of scissors...
The highways and byways are littered with accidents this morning because it's sprinkling outside right now. My local NPR lady just mentioned that there is a flash-flood warning for some areas in SD County, because we could get up to 1/2 an inch of rain throughout the day. Half an inch!!! Crikey! I better find myself a canoe!
I know it's probably a legitimate claim, seeing as we only get like 4 inches of rain or something in SD the whole year, but Geez Louise, people--Quit panicking and have yourself a proper thunderstorm now and then. What I wouldn't give for a little lightening right now...
After two weeks of it sitting idly in the corner of our bedroom, on a whim, I sat down in front of our destitute, brain-dead computer and gave its little power button a tap, and VOILA!...It came alive! So folks, although it's quite possibly short-lived, our sweet little Dell is back in action--and I didn't even have to stick it in the freezer. It truly is a Thanksgiving miracle.
Speaking of Thanksgiving, Matt and I are sitting at the SD airport as I write this, waiting for our flight to St Louis (via Minneapolis, of all places). Northwest Airlines is on my hit-list these days, so I hope make it through this flight without blowing a gasket. If I'm feeling inspired, I'll share my NWA experiences of late with you sometime. Frankly, if they don't cooperate with my demands, I'm going to threaten to smote them publicly on my blog. Ok, I need to stop. I can feel my blood-pressure rising.
In other news, I'm going to eat 25 pieces of pie tonight at the annual Kirkland Pie Night festivities. Wish me luck!
While I was walking home from the bus stop tonight a man stopped me on the street corner and asked,
"Do you like steak?"
to which I promptly answered, "No, I'm a vegetarian," and skedaddled out of there. (I should mention that it was a dark and gloomy street corner and the man was scary-looking. Had it been a bright, sunny afternoon, I might be inclined to dig deeper into his line of questioning, being the curious soul that I am.) I was lying, of course, as I tend to be an "every-other-day" kind of vegetarian and today was definitely my day off, but I didn't care. Earlier in the day, a different man on a different, but equally scary, street corner asked if I'd go have coffee with him, to which I truthfully replied "No, I'm married" and briskly walked away. I figure a truth can negate a lie, right? Surely a little truthiness never hurt anyone.
But I've digressed. My point in recording this pointless story was to say that perhaps the aforementioned "steak man" was speaking in code and had I been the agent he was seeking, I would have responded in return with my code-answer something such as,
"Only on Tuesdays if the moon is blue."
But clearly I wasn't the secret agent he was looking for. Hope he doesn't have to stand out on that chilly street corner for too long before the correct 007 strolls by.
That's what the friendly Pakistani tech-support guy said about my hard drive last night. I mean, shoot, we were close - but that's a pretty intense consolation for the loss of a machine.
Matt here, folks, posting in Erika's stead for the day. We're having a little hard drive trouble on the home computer (and by trouble I mean its death, and our denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance). Erika says to let you know her posting will be slim until we get this resolved.
In honor of last week's crazy events, for Halloween this year I'm dressing as the scariest thing I (well, it was actually Matt's idea) could think of:
THE WITCH FIRE
For those of you hiding in a cave last week, the Witch Fire was the largest and most ferocious of the Southern California fires that burned through the area. I sewed on my shirt "10% contained." I hope I don't get rotten tomatoes thrown at me today.
Here are a couple of my co-workers dressed in their Halloween garb:
We spent the evening at Jamie's house (Matt's new biz partner's girlfriend) with our eyes peeled to the TV. Her family was awaiting evacuation orders and we were there for moral support and stuff transport, should the need arise. So far they are fine and still at home, but every phone call makes them nervous as the Sheriff's Dept. is making "reverse 911" calls to households immediately affected by the blazes.
Just a mile or so down the road, we stopped and snapped a few pictures at the local Target parking lot. There are hundreds of people, cars, RVs, dogs, and horses stationed there and at the baseball diamond just behind the building. We passed a couple of pick-up trucks blaring fire-themed country music which helped to set the mood. Everyone was just walking around in a daze with their eyes towards the hills, staring at the approaching fire. It's mesmerizing. And huge. We took the above photos and though it's a little hard to see exactly what's going on, there are flames just pouring down the hills in the background. Y0u have to see it to believe it.
But as I've mentioned several times already, Matt and I are fine. Our neighborhood is in no danger at present, and unlikely to be so anytime soon.
500,000 people have been evacuated 241,000 acres of land have burned 1,250 homes have been destroyed Of the 4 main fires, 3 are less than 10% contained
It was a little unnerving last night trying to fall asleep knowing full-well that fires burning just outside the city were creeping inwards. The Santa Ana winds have been completely erratic, reaching hurricane speed winds at times. This makes the fires relatively unpredictable in turn.
The salon is closed today, as all SD residents have been asked to stay home (those that still have a home and/or haven't been evacuated to safer ground), stay off the highways, conserve energy and not use their cellphones. Yes, sir. I have a sneaking suspicion, though, that if they make us all stay home today, we'll all decide it's a good time to get some laundry done, sending the last drops of the already tight water resources down the drain, and then we'll all be screwed.
We really will all have to dive into the ocean then. And there aren't shark nets on SD beaches. Ok, I'm getting ahead of myself here. I think it might be time for me to conserve energy and climb back into bed. I'll let you know if I start on fire.
OK, folks, this is getting serious. Today's my day off and I've spent the whole morning with my face glued to google maps and my ears glued to the local public radio station. There are fires to the north, south and east of SD and most are less than 10% contained. That pretty much just leaves the ocean for an escape route and the flames are expected to reach the coastline before too long. Anyone got a spare boat they could stick in the mail for me? The winds are only expected to worsen over the next 24 hours. It's nuts. Totally nuts. If you try to call, I probably won't answer. Officials are asking people to reduce cell phone usage. Matt and I are completely safe, though. No worries about it reaching our neighborhood.
More than half a dozen fires are blazing on the outskirts of San Diego right now. The hot, dry Santa Ana winds blew in a couple of days ago and brought with it FIRE! Apparently wild fires are rather common this time of year and as SD is in a drought (and has been for some time) it's ripe for a natural disaster. More than 250,000 residents have already been evacuated and many of the schools and universities are closed today because of air quality. The skies are smoky and anywhere you drive in the city, it smells like you've got a campfire in the trunk. It's nuts.
Working full-time is sure cramping my crabby style. And it's not for a lack of stories that's keeping me from blogging, but rather the exhaustion! I'm just dog-gone tired by the time I get home every night. So lame, I know.
I think I might have to start a regular feature about all the little adventures I have on the bus. Matt and I are trying our darndest (and so far, so good) to live in the suburbs, own only 1 car, and even then rarely use it. I'm intimately learning the finer points of the SD transit system. Well, at least the route I take to get to work. And the people that ride the bus are ALWAYS fascinating. It's like getting to peek in on a really bizarre and exciting sociology experiment. I mean that in the best possible way. Yesterday an older guy started to chat with me at the bus stop and then when the bus arrived, insisted I sit near him. I generally like people and am always curious to hear their stories, so I obliged. Amid the friendly chit-chat he revealed that he originally came to Southern California in 1979 to get on a game show. He never got his 15 minutes of fame, but ended up relocating to SD permanently. He doesn't own a car, he likes to work out before eating dinner, and on and on. It's amazing what people will tell you if you just give them a listening ear. Last week two Morman evangelists became the unsuspecting victims of a homeless guy who went into a tirade regarding his own opinions about religion. My favorite bit was his theory that as global warming increased, God would slowly change days to include 25 hours a day, rather than only 24. Fascinating stuff. The bus is certain to be fodder for some interesting experiences.
And there's more...I want to tell you all about our family vacation to Santa Barbara, where we spent every day in the ocean and saw dolphins swimming just a mere 20 feet away from us (they are robots, of course, but that's beside the point). Last week I was in Kansas for my friend Jane's wedding and I had a fabulous time doing the flowers--My best work yet. And I've got lots of pictures from our apartment and neighborhood to share with you all. Oh, and yesterday I got my second haircut since starting my job and it's kind of awesome, but kind of terrible.
So much to tell, so much exhaustion. I miss you all.
There's something strangely satisfying about being the last person to board a plane. Everyone is waiting on YOU and they won't take off until YOU have your seatbelt safely clicked into place. It's rather liberating. On my most recent trip to Kansas, I was actually the second-to-last person on board but the guy behind me was so drunk he almost didn't count. He stumbled on, rather than boarded, the plane. I heard him mumble something about this being "his first time on this sh*t." I took that to mean he was a first time flyer. That might explain the wobbly foot work and the empty Bud Light clutched in his sweaty grip. Shortly after finding his way to his seat, he was promptly escorted off the plane. I heard a few cheers coming from the back, which must've come from his seatmates. Guess you're supposed to wait until the flight begins before you get completely smashed. He was probably just relieved to have his first flight postponed a little while longer.
Speaking of flights and booted passengers, a couple of weeks ago I got a letter in the mail from a private investigator looking for some details regarding an incident that occurred on board a flight to Hong Kong last spring. Apparently I was a witness and the DA in Anchorage, Alaska has a few questions to ask me. I'm hoping for an all expenses paid subpoena to Anchorage to come out of of this. I hear Alaska is lovely in the winter. Although perhaps I just ruined my chances by discussing this matter in public on my blog. We'll see...
I spent the last 5 days in Santa Barbara, CA holed up in a cozy bunker on the beach with my mom, sisters, brother-in-laws, and all 5 grandkids (including the little one in my sister's tummy). Now I'm in Dallas at my oldest sister's house and tonight I fly to Lawrence to do the flowers for my lovely friend Jane's wedding this weekend. I've got some beautiful photos from my adventures thus far. I can't promise much this week, as I'll be knee deep in flower blossoms. I return to San Diego on Sunday. To all my lovely Lawrence friends, I won't have much time to goof-off, but give me a call and I'll find time to squeeze in some catch-up time.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
My new hair-howdy-do. It's nothing drastic, but certainly the first time I've ever colored my hair. It's kinda hard to see in the photos, but there are some blond-ish streaks up front. Still not sure I'm keen on this whole coloring business. I'm kind of low maintenance when it comes to my hair. Baby steps for me, I guess. I'm slowly working my way up to a spiky, black mohawk. Any suggestions for what I should do next?
Before, in case you for got what I looked like or if you are an internet crazy and don't know what I look like in real life (If this were a proper "before" photo, I would be frowning)
After being "on" everyday this week, I am ready for a day of rest. Lip gloss? Check. Ridiculously thick mascara? Check. Perfectly tousled, yet free of fly-a-ways hair? Check. Hip and trendy outfit consisting of black, red, and white which perfectly reflects the hip and trendy black, red, and white decor of the salon? Check. Deodorant? Uh Oh...
That's a pretty accurate look into my first week of work. But don't get me wrong, I loved every minute of it. I LOVE my new job. It feels good to be working full-time again. It's been over 2 years since I've had a "9-5" job and I like it. I'm worn out, that's for sure, though. It's hard work looking good. As my new boss reminded me several times this week, I'm in an image-driven business and it's (literally) my job to look good. Yikes! Thankfully the job comes complete with a staff of super talented stylists and make-up artists at my disposal, but it still feels a little overwhelming.
My actual position is "Salon Coordinator"--it's a big responsibility and I know it's a position I'll grow into. The salon is relatively new and in a season of transition. It will be my job to guide it through this phase and develop a strategy to ensure success in the next. Oh, and answer the phone. I'm 1/2 receptionist, 1/4 head of HR, 1/4 marketing director. At least that's how my boss sees it, I think. Regardless, it's bound to be a fire-cracker of a job, and I'm really excited. And did I mention I get free hair services? Oh, it's too good to be true...
I'm desperate to update you guys, but exhaustion is taking over. No more frivolous days lounging by the pool and basking in the San Diego sunshine. All my creative brain-power that formerly went into crafting mischievous blog posts is now funneled into my new job in the form of the peppy secretary. I worked a 12 hour shift today. Must sleep. I have a new hair-do. I love my new job. And I miss you all.
The salon got in touch with me yesterday and asked me to come in for a couple of hours tomorrow to "hang out" (code for finding out whether or not I'm salon material, I think). I think that's a good sign. I guess it means I have one foot in the door and as long as I my other foot doesn't stumble and lag behind, I think I might get the job. That would be lovely, dear readers, simply lovely. Wish me luck!
This past Saturday, Matt and I spent the afternoon traipsing around our new neighborhood exploring it's hidden delights. Over the past few weeks we've noticed this city has an over-abundance of classic, old signs, in various stages of deterioration. We couldn't let another day go by without capturing some of them on film (uhm...digital film, that is). Most of these were taken on El Cajon Blvd, a street that begins out where we live in the 'burbs and meanders all the way to downtown. If the fancy strikes you, you can peruse our findings on Matt's flickr site. Enjoy!
Definitely my favorite sign of the day. Is one elf ruining the cloth and the other one patching it up? Any theories?
It's time I come clean. My name is Erika and I'm a thrift-aholic.
I'm a stay-at-home wife, mama of one, and on those rare moments when I'm not at a thrift store, garage/estate sale, someone's attic, etc., I can be found at home in my teeny-tiny apartment in sunny San Diego making things out of felt, reading blogs, baking pies, chillin' with my fat cat, Quincy, smiling at my husband and making up ridiculous jingles.
Although the sun and I are not the best of friends (I prefer cold, drizzly days to palm trees on the beach, and long socks and scarves to flip flops and bathing suits), I'm discovering the many joys of Southern California living.
I'm making it my new goal in life to bring you a treasure-trove of vintage and handmade goodies and hopefully bring some cheer and goodwill into your life.
SARAH!!!
Stylish, yet not snow-proof shoe wear
Lovely Lion
Happy in the Snow
A lovely little store, managed by a former KU grad
Brad and Amy b eing adorable
I think Quincy is dreaming of fancy kibbles...
So far Chicago has not proved itself to be a profitable place to play the lotto. Two days in this city and no big money. Although you might think that there's not much to scratch tickets, thus far, Chicago has the most satisfying scratchers I've encountered. The games yield the best suspense. When you've scratched as many lottery tickets as I have in the past month, you come to realize there a many fine nuances to scratch tickets. Some are just clearly more fun than others.
This is staged. I don't condone littering.
...was not a big win.
Happy 27th Birthday to the best husband in the world!*
Peggy Peattie/San Diego Union-Tribune/ZUMA Press
Photo from SignOnSanDiego.com
Photo of the 2003 San Diego blazes
Before, in case you for got what I looked like or if you are an internet crazy and don't know what I look like in real life
Definitely my favorite sign of the day. Is one elf ruining the cloth and the other one patching it up? Any theories?
