Sunday, October 31, 2010
heyhowareya
Im in Austin.
Drinking Kava.
Buying Paintings.
Eating Fallafels.
Hangin with homeless
Sleeping on a Floor
Taking 102345934 pictures
Thrifting
Thrifting some more
Being Gypsy
Reading Books
Watching crazies
Watching Films
Seeing Nakedness...on the street.
Getting Lost
Being found by getting lost
Being tired. Being Wired.
Becoming a little more inspired.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
brie
Well i think it is safe to assume that we are all well aware of my strange and severe love for fiber art. That is what i look for when i go to thrift stores. that is what i hang on my walls. and that is what i stalk on etsy.
One such artist is Georgianne Holland of the Nestle and Soar studio (etsy/blog.) She almost exclusively uses wool, and will use up to 30 colors of soft wool per piece. Not to mention with every purchase, Nestle and Soar plants a tree in your honor through the Arbor Day Foundaion. we like trees. (but not tree huggers.)
I am quite disappointed that i only recently discovered her because she has a studio and teaches art in DENVER. how sad. Heaven knows i hate missing an opportunity to stalk. Anyway, here is some of her artwork on etsy.
Other fiberous art with which i am quite impressed..
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
wives.
Why ever would we not be looking at these beautiful spring fashions the moment it turns cold. (literally, this morning was the first in which i thought i was going to be unable to get out from under my blankets.) Nonetheless, the clothes-making world wants us to be confused, so here we are.
Erdem Spring 2011
Usually, Erdem is incredbly momish. not that this isn't, but it's a little less and i am completely in love with the sheer and the lace and the collars and the floral. I'm never a fan of the wrap-up ballet shoes, but what else would they use for this springy tea party thing? i guess it's excusble. And maybe this is still momish, but im pretty sure it is what kortney and I will be wearing as we play in our fields and hang out on our (separate) wrap-around porches. (until our husbands die then it will be the same wrap-around porch.)
Monday, October 25, 2010
Clock Bell
Mmmmk. I have several things rollin in my brain this morning, but due to the morning haze that night owls sometimes possess... I would like to send out a fair warning that Im not sure how clearly I am capable of typing words this morning. THE BELL IS RINGING. However...I feel the blogging bird standing on my shoulder (snaggin a hole in my cardigan) and chirping loudly in my ear. SO...read on.
This weekend was a nice end to the week...quitefamily oriented. THE BELL IS RINGING. On Friday I took my small, teenage, grounded, sister to do things. While I have been home in Texas we have become bosom buddies.. mainly because she lets me treat her (and her beauty) like a doll while I take pictures of her, and humors me (most of the time) when I force her to do crafty things for my entertainment... sort of like my puppy while Rachel's away. ;) THE BELL IS RINGING. We went to a corny block buster called 'Life As We Know It.' Corny or not...there were some excellent looking men in that film that I enjoyed pretending to make eye contact with via big screen. Don't judge, we all know you do the same. While driving to the theatre, water began pouring from the sky in massive amounts. This rainstorm was not a feminine sprinkle. Let me just tell you... it was the kind of rain that looks as if buckets of water are being dumped out of clouds, the kind of rain that will soak you in half a second. THE BELL IS RINGING. When we stopped the car...the sisteren was all ready to hop out in it with her hooded head, acting as if I should do the same. Mind you... we had an entire acre wide parking lot to run across. All I could think of was how delightful sitting in a cold and dark movie theatre with soggy shoes and wet hair down my back would be. Unfortunately, the movie was starting and Haleigh was getting crabby with my 'wait for the rain to desist before getting out the of car' tactics. THE BELL IS RINGING. Finally.. when I realized that the drops were going to show no mercy, I decided to make a leap for it...hoping the rain gods would show my non-hooded hairs some smaller drops for the ten point five seconds while I scaled the parking lot. We opened the car door and hit the pavement sprinting...h2o pelting, shoes sloshing, mascara dripping, and laughs belting. THE BELL IS RINGING. THE BELL IS RINGING. THE BELL IS RINGING. By the time we arrived at the awning to buy our tickets, we had all since given up. Yet, due to the nice adrenaline rush, we done splashed and laughed our way right into that movie, only stopping to make fun of who's wet spots looked more like pee stains. It may sound immature...but for someone who despises potty humor, even I can admit the humor in such a joke. This lengthy and descriptive anecdote is all to say...It was a nice moment. As I have been away from friends, living a more simple life for the past few months...I have tried more desperately to find zest in small moments such as this, especially with family. THE BELL IS RINGING. Watching a rather cranky teenager's run through the rain turn from dainty to a anti-graceful-tom-boy like dead sprint, only to then witness those emotional blue eyes light up as she realized life (even when grounded) isn't half bad,was a moment to remember.
On Saturday the rain continued, which gave me an excuse to wear fall things (namely boots) and red lipstick to Dallas with the fam to eat dinner with my brother and his wife. They have a charming little life in Dallas, Texas. They have been married for three years and Mandy is a High School art teacher, while Geoffrey finishes undergrad and prepares for law school. They pride themselves on searching out the greatest artistic happenings and edible delicacies in the metroplex. They took my family to a restaurant calles 'Bolsa' where I believe everything is organic, locally grown, and bought fresh everyday. We all moaned with pleasure as we ate things such as honey and butternut squash bisque, flat bread with roasted grapes, arugula, goat cheese, and feta, apple and brie bruschetta, an assortment of desserts including crem brule, peanut butter cookies with cream on top, and orange bread pudding. IT. WAS. MY. DREAM. It was fabulous getting to catch up with my artsy little siblings and laugh at family jokes. I'm still not sure whether or not Mandy thinks we're funny... but I hope so, and bless her heart for laughing. ;)
After eating everything, we decided to walk around downtown. Then came the not so grand part of the evening. THE BELL IS RINGING. We all were walking like ducks in a row when my Father, Christian became overwhelmed with immense pain in his stomach/chest area. We thought it was indigestion until he could barely breathe or walk. He told my Mom we needed to take him to the ER because he was either having a heart attach or his Gallbladder was about to explode. THE BELL IS RINGING. For a man who's a Doctor, when he says 'take me to the hospital,' we listen. Poor man was in triage for a few minutes and then admitted to run tests. He was in so much pain that they pumped him full of morphine and other pain killers and after crossing out possibilities of a heart attack, prepped him for surgery on his Gallbladder. Then the Doctor's decided emergency surgery wasn't necessary, and that he could wait a few more days and have surgery in Sherman where we reside. THE BELL IS RINGING. The fools released him from the hospital at four in the morning. After being shot full of so many drugs in prep for surgery, throwing up made the car ride home super fun for him. He is now resting and deciding what doctor to have slice him. For an organ that is less than two inches in length and width the Gallbladder can cause a bitch of a problem. Im so glad my chubby cheeked father is alright. What a blessing that I have live parentals.
Now. I don't feel this blog post would be complete with a quick update from my imaginary book 'The funeral & the Flower Shop.' Im sure that your eyes have been perplexed to read the words 'THE BELL IS RINGING' numerously and randomly stuck inside many a paragraph of this blog post. Well. I just wanted to share a little of my misery here at the fun house with you, so that you can really feel a part of my everyday life. I work upstairs in the 1908 built funeral home, which means each time someone comes in I must walk down the stairs... mail man, employee, dead person, or not. This would be fine... except for the five million non-pressing entries that cause the door bell clock thing to repeatedly sound. After hearing this door ringer contraption sound literally over a hundred times each day, documenting front door opening, back door opening, smoke break opening, etc. I unfortunately cannot tell which sounds are which. There is also a coo-coo clock that chimes each thirty minutes... and between all of the ding dong ding dong----ding dong dddddinnnnngggg donngggss.... I might be going a little crazy. Is the clock the door or the door the clock!?!? Little did you know... the 'talking with a crazy person' blog post that Rachel wrote.. was in reference to me. It's far past time to crush AND hide the doorbell alarm clock ringer crazy person maker thing. If you want to help... give me a holler.
Enjoy the Marathon blog post. Also, Here are a few things that Ive been dreaming about in between door bell soundings. I hope all of you had a delicious weekend, and remember 'he not busy being born is busy dyin,' all hale Bob Dylan.
This weekend was a nice end to the week...quitefamily oriented. THE BELL IS RINGING. On Friday I took my small, teenage, grounded, sister to do things. While I have been home in Texas we have become bosom buddies.. mainly because she lets me treat her (and her beauty) like a doll while I take pictures of her, and humors me (most of the time) when I force her to do crafty things for my entertainment... sort of like my puppy while Rachel's away. ;) THE BELL IS RINGING. We went to a corny block buster called 'Life As We Know It.' Corny or not...there were some excellent looking men in that film that I enjoyed pretending to make eye contact with via big screen. Don't judge, we all know you do the same. While driving to the theatre, water began pouring from the sky in massive amounts. This rainstorm was not a feminine sprinkle. Let me just tell you... it was the kind of rain that looks as if buckets of water are being dumped out of clouds, the kind of rain that will soak you in half a second. THE BELL IS RINGING. When we stopped the car...the sisteren was all ready to hop out in it with her hooded head, acting as if I should do the same. Mind you... we had an entire acre wide parking lot to run across. All I could think of was how delightful sitting in a cold and dark movie theatre with soggy shoes and wet hair down my back would be. Unfortunately, the movie was starting and Haleigh was getting crabby with my 'wait for the rain to desist before getting out the of car' tactics. THE BELL IS RINGING. Finally.. when I realized that the drops were going to show no mercy, I decided to make a leap for it...hoping the rain gods would show my non-hooded hairs some smaller drops for the ten point five seconds while I scaled the parking lot. We opened the car door and hit the pavement sprinting...h2o pelting, shoes sloshing, mascara dripping, and laughs belting. THE BELL IS RINGING. THE BELL IS RINGING. THE BELL IS RINGING. By the time we arrived at the awning to buy our tickets, we had all since given up. Yet, due to the nice adrenaline rush, we done splashed and laughed our way right into that movie, only stopping to make fun of who's wet spots looked more like pee stains. It may sound immature...but for someone who despises potty humor, even I can admit the humor in such a joke. This lengthy and descriptive anecdote is all to say...It was a nice moment. As I have been away from friends, living a more simple life for the past few months...I have tried more desperately to find zest in small moments such as this, especially with family. THE BELL IS RINGING. Watching a rather cranky teenager's run through the rain turn from dainty to a anti-graceful-tom-boy like dead sprint, only to then witness those emotional blue eyes light up as she realized life (even when grounded) isn't half bad,was a moment to remember.
On Saturday the rain continued, which gave me an excuse to wear fall things (namely boots) and red lipstick to Dallas with the fam to eat dinner with my brother and his wife. They have a charming little life in Dallas, Texas. They have been married for three years and Mandy is a High School art teacher, while Geoffrey finishes undergrad and prepares for law school. They pride themselves on searching out the greatest artistic happenings and edible delicacies in the metroplex. They took my family to a restaurant calles 'Bolsa' where I believe everything is organic, locally grown, and bought fresh everyday. We all moaned with pleasure as we ate things such as honey and butternut squash bisque, flat bread with roasted grapes, arugula, goat cheese, and feta, apple and brie bruschetta, an assortment of desserts including crem brule, peanut butter cookies with cream on top, and orange bread pudding. IT. WAS. MY. DREAM. It was fabulous getting to catch up with my artsy little siblings and laugh at family jokes. I'm still not sure whether or not Mandy thinks we're funny... but I hope so, and bless her heart for laughing. ;)
After eating everything, we decided to walk around downtown. Then came the not so grand part of the evening. THE BELL IS RINGING. We all were walking like ducks in a row when my Father, Christian became overwhelmed with immense pain in his stomach/chest area. We thought it was indigestion until he could barely breathe or walk. He told my Mom we needed to take him to the ER because he was either having a heart attach or his Gallbladder was about to explode. THE BELL IS RINGING. For a man who's a Doctor, when he says 'take me to the hospital,' we listen. Poor man was in triage for a few minutes and then admitted to run tests. He was in so much pain that they pumped him full of morphine and other pain killers and after crossing out possibilities of a heart attack, prepped him for surgery on his Gallbladder. Then the Doctor's decided emergency surgery wasn't necessary, and that he could wait a few more days and have surgery in Sherman where we reside. THE BELL IS RINGING. The fools released him from the hospital at four in the morning. After being shot full of so many drugs in prep for surgery, throwing up made the car ride home super fun for him. He is now resting and deciding what doctor to have slice him. For an organ that is less than two inches in length and width the Gallbladder can cause a bitch of a problem. Im so glad my chubby cheeked father is alright. What a blessing that I have live parentals.
Now. I don't feel this blog post would be complete with a quick update from my imaginary book 'The funeral & the Flower Shop.' Im sure that your eyes have been perplexed to read the words 'THE BELL IS RINGING' numerously and randomly stuck inside many a paragraph of this blog post. Well. I just wanted to share a little of my misery here at the fun house with you, so that you can really feel a part of my everyday life. I work upstairs in the 1908 built funeral home, which means each time someone comes in I must walk down the stairs... mail man, employee, dead person, or not. This would be fine... except for the five million non-pressing entries that cause the door bell clock thing to repeatedly sound. After hearing this door ringer contraption sound literally over a hundred times each day, documenting front door opening, back door opening, smoke break opening, etc. I unfortunately cannot tell which sounds are which. There is also a coo-coo clock that chimes each thirty minutes... and between all of the ding dong ding dong----ding dong dddddinnnnngggg donngggss.... I might be going a little crazy. Is the clock the door or the door the clock!?!? Little did you know... the 'talking with a crazy person' blog post that Rachel wrote.. was in reference to me. It's far past time to crush AND hide the doorbell alarm clock ringer crazy person maker thing. If you want to help... give me a holler.
Enjoy the Marathon blog post. Also, Here are a few things that Ive been dreaming about in between door bell soundings. I hope all of you had a delicious weekend, and remember 'he not busy being born is busy dyin,' all hale Bob Dylan.
Heirloom Tomatoes.So vintage. Lets farm them.
Gradated straw flowers. mmm.
I need one of these.
Live. Here.
Best wedding favor idea everrrrr.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
wild rabbit
i like these things.
All of that cotton probably hurt. what an excellent faker.
where is shirley's cape?
probably my favorite ears ever. 
As of late, i pretty much love it when i hear anyone say anything. like i hardly, if ever, get annoyed with anything anyone says. i feel like i never really did, but i definitely do not now. Even when people say the dumbest things, i just find humor in it and miraculously dont even make a judgment on the idiot who said it. i kind of just think they are smart or funny for coming up with something so stupid, thinking about it without immediate dismissal, and letting it pass their lips. This may or may not sound sarcastic, but i assure you, it is not.
In The Crossroads on Friday, i sat doing logic homework and simultaneously listening to the conversations of aliens around me. Amid the strangeness, i heard this sweet sentence, "I feel weird not having a treat! Every time he has come over i've had a treat."
I now have trouble analyzing such statements or even attempting to judge how stupid it is, how sad they are, or how fearful i am for society, due to the fact that they are so funnyyyy and soo gooood.
Another blissful dropped eve occurred in math 108 on Friday. (for those who don't know, math 108 is officially titled 'math for the real world.' The social structure of the class is strangely similar to being a regular-aged college student sitting in on a 10th grade algebra II class (but with less difficult material.)) Anyway, i arrived to class early. A girl and a boy sitting behind me engaged in conversation.
He asked simply and politely, "How are you?" She was somehow slyly able to replace a normal, simple, polite answer with a magical story. "His name is Bill. He led me on for three weeks. We like hung out, held hands, whatever. Then like three weeks later he just slowly started talking to me less. And apparently he started hanging out with other girls..." By this time the girl next to interesting girl had joined in giving advice. They both agreed and mentally forced boy to agree on certain arbitrary and slightly frightening points of the story. "I mean, who thinks they can hang out with multiple girls at one time? It is not like that in California at all! Why do us Californians think differently?"
A) i stopped listening when she said 'us Californians' instead of 'we Californians.' B) i have the good parts of this story properly stored because when i hear people say interesting things, i text them to myself. C) what delusional sort of person is this that assumed that her and bill were exclusively dating without an exchange of verbiage. D) Bill just thought he liked you then three weeks later decided he didn't like you so much, crazy. E) Good thing she is in this problem-solving class; she needs it. F) I swear on my life that i am not being sarcastic; i find this human and her words to be interesting, funny and intelligent.
That is all
oh if i do not mention kristin, i will be harmed.
~K-->H
Kristin + Mouth Sounds.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
talking with a crazy person.
Thinking
I was thinking about things
I was thinking about strings
I was thinking about things I want to be things
Then I thought about thoughts
And I dreamed about dreams
But no where I went, no where it seems
So thinking about thoughts
And thoughting about things
Or thinking about thoughting the thought that I think
Could be spacing a space
For dreaming a dream
Or seeming a something, a something unseen
Or not
Monday, October 18, 2010
braindead.
Incase you were wondering, i did in fact stay up until eight in the morning on friday. That action did in fact confuse my sleeping for the rest of the weekend. And i did in fact wake up at five thirty this morning to do homework. and i have in fact been not-sitting nonstop since then. Somehow during this time, i got my hair made blonde and short. It has been a long time coming and it is such a miracle. Not that it looks any different than always, but the hair cutter always makes it quite a bit fluffier than i am able.
In other news, Decades. in salt lake city. The most beautiful depth and breadth of clothing i have seen since denver. Kind of makes me want to forsake my pursuance of a career and just go back to denver and look at pretty things all day until someone older than me dies and i inherit them. Anyways, kristian and i will snap a few photographs of our idiotic yet amazing expenditures in the coming days.
In even better news, park city was beautiful. i amost had a heart attack of relaxation and enjoyment. yellow leaves. warm. cool. large mountains that looked small. people that i like. breeze. walking. twin shower (i think me and kristin are twins now). pizza. woods. games. moon. jews. nothing better in this world.
these are cats. well deserved.
These are the work of Shona Heath. She is an amazing artist, most well known for her set designs. Kind of hard to analyze things that you think are perfect. If not for her, clothing pictures would be floor, wall and person. actually that doesn't sound half bad.
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