Yesternight’s and Last Week’s Workouts:

 

x5
10 tuck jumps
10 spiderman pushups
10 L-lifts (hanging from monkey bars, lift legs to 90 degree angle)
20 jumping jacks

 

x3

15 squats
15 pushups
15 tuck jumps
15 V-ups/tuck ups (alternating)

 

Tonight I will be taking a certain mopey corgi
for a very, very long walk–
she’s been with me for the last two days,
and can’t understand why I’m not playing with her
instead of staring at my boring computer,
trying to whack out a shiny new resume.

Poor corgwyn.
She neither toils not nor does she spin.

…

Unless there are treats.
Then she totally spins.

And Another Thing:

 

 

*squeeee!*

The Process. And Also a Corgi.

 

She kept planting her furry little butt on my skirt. We drew lines of compromise here.

 

She sure makes me more cheerful when I inevitably fuck up a simple seam, though. Lookatthatface!

 

The desert at 90mph.

 

This part of the lawn is VERY IMPORTANT.

 

Sometimes, I'm tempted to put fake eyelashes on my wighead.

 

The 300" skirt and the front tapestry panel.

 

There’s a story behind that tapestry–
Friend Amanda, who is making my bodice
(and regularly whips out costumes for dozens of folks
every year at Faire, ‘coz she’s a genius),
came over to my place last weekend for a shopping trip in the fabric district.

It was amazing to go down there with another veteran–
the districts in LA–fabric, fashion, jewelry, furniture, toys, floral–can be seriously intimidating if you don’t go there often.
It’s crowded, kinda dusty,
parking is a pain in the ass,
and there are so. many. things. whipping past your vision,
it’s easy to get headachey and grumpled.

We both had this moment, about ninety minutes into our trip,
where we were checking to see if the other person was okay,
because that’s uuuuusually the limit we have when we go with other folks,
and we both had to laugh, we were so fine with trucking on
for another three hours.

Plus, girl has a seriously good eye for fabrics.

This tapestry was a simultaneous spotting at Levine’s upholstery shop;
we gasped, I squeaked,
“Oh my God, can I use that?!?!”
Amanda looked at the price, and said,
“No. No, you can’t.”

…It was $24 per yard.

I normally never pay more than $5 per yard when I’m in the fabric district.

There was a great deal of hemming and hawing,
I got a swatch and carried it around for the rest of the afternoon,
and finally just had to come back and get it,
because it was SO PERFECT.

And I only needed one yard.

Shutup.

It’s totally justifiable.

 

And Amanda said I could!

 

Here’s a brief glimpse of my finished top skirt–
I also finished the bottom last night.

 

It's this amazing tweedy mustard color--It feels like I pulled it out of a Vermeer painting.

 

There will be more photos–
still have to attach my waistband,
hem the panel,
attach the panel to my hoop
(oh yes, I am wearing a hoop LIKE A BOSS),
and then the fun begins with chopine construction!

It’s going to be a busy month,
but my brain and heart feel so much better
for having something creative to hold.

 

This Post Brought to You by:

 

The Letter “L”

For “Light-headed”
And “Limp”
And “So glad to be home and not stuck in Denver
in the middle of a snowstorm because NO.”

 

Oh,
that didn’t start with “L”.
Silly me.

Y’all.

Seriously.

How in the CRAP do people travel for business on a regular basis?
I just had three solid days of meetings with working lunches,
and I cannot fathom doing this more than once or twice a year.

I’m going to go snuggle The Boyo and The Corgi now.

And soak my feet–full business drag does a number on Ye Olde Insteppe.

It’s a Good Life:

 

Every once in a while,
I am just struck by how lovely life can be.

In spite of how hard bits of this week were,
there was a moment Saturday night,
when The Boyo and I came home after the 20th Wedding
(Titus and Staci Gee!),
collapsed on the floor,
Corgi between us,
and there was just this…contentment.

There was a Christmas tree.
A warm house.
A boy.
A girl.
Their dog.

And it was good.

 

The Best Dog in the World.

Looky who I found wandering around Disney!

Staci's Bouquet

Today I:

 

Woke up to this:

 

This is mah burfday bike. I like her.

 

And soft sunset colored roses.
In vases, all over my apartment,
adding up to 30, with the most wonderful notes attached.

The Boyo snuck into my place in the wee sma’s with The Roommate’s help
and set all of this up–
let me tell you,
there are worse ways to wake up than to roses and a beach cruiser.

I love this man.

 

Birthdays are strange.

When I first met my friend Wylie,
he said that he was celebrating the first anniversary of his 29th birthday.

I thought that was silly at the time
(oh, 22!).

…I understand it now.

 

Today,
I am 30.

I am now officially the oldest unmarried woman in my family’s history.

I am wearing flats with my favorite black silk dress
because, in all ironies, I tweaked my back but good last night.

I am going to lunch with my favorite co-workers,
and I will *probably* be talked into getting the lavender duck sandwich,
because it is DELICIOUS.

The Boyo and I will go out to dinner tonight,
just the two of us,
and laugh about silly things,
and do the whole gaze-into-each-others’-eyes-over-candlelight-thing,
and then start laughing again,
because true love doesn’t take itself too seriously, you know.

He’s been with me since I was 18.

First friends,
now the core of my heart.

 

He is a good man.

 

Today I am grateful for…everything.
Even my twingy back.

I’ve been so afraid to relax and enjoy what I have right now
because I had so many Other Shoes drop on me over the last seven years,
Imelda Marcos would be jealous.

 

So today?

I am grateful for everything.

For my friends who carried me.

For The Boyo who has stayed.

For a car that works.

For an affectionate, smart little dog.

For my parents.

For my grandmother, who sends the strangest gifts
out of the deepest love of her heart.

For friends getting married, for being a part of their love.

For coffee.

For sunshine and rain.

 

For roses, an adventuresome bike, and a small stuffed dinosaur.

 

Today,
I am grateful for all things.

Well, Of Course.

 

Long, Long, Long Island:

I may or may not have had a Long Island Iced Tea
with Elderflower Liquere…Liquor?…Lickker?

in it.

It was really good.
 
 

…I can’t feel my knees.

 

Wordpress suggests "The Mona Lisa" as the text for this image. I'll go with that.

 
 
Also, corgi:

 

Good girl, distract everyone from Mommy's Tikki Bar hair.

Thingity Thing Things:

 
 

Seriously, why is this not lounging on my desk as we speak?

GLURG.

 

(I am also planning on whipping up a fresh mint sweet tea rum spiked drink of de-li-ci-ousness this week.)
 
(you know, because I can.)

 

I survived the Los Angeles Salsa Congress…
by the thin suede of my dance shoes,
but still,
I survived.

There may have been a very teary and slightly hysterical phone call to The Boyo
regarding the verysmallandhardlynoticeable mistake that
happened during our routine, because I?

Am a perfectionist.

Never thought I was.

But I TOTALLY AM.

I would post a video for all y’all,
but alas,
the folks running the Congress are also a bit money-grubby,
and wouldn’t allow filming in order to force attendees
to buy *their* video of the event.

BOO.

 

I also finished a couple of books this week–
nothing near my normal rate of reading whilst-being-unemployed,
but it was nice to dig myself into good books,
even for five minutes at a time.

I still have mixed feelings for this book...

I picked up “House of Sand and Fog” at the wickedly fabulous
Altadena Library Book Sale because one of my favorite professors loves the film.

The book is modeled on the Greek tragedy–
events that occur happen because of tragic flaws
within each of the main characters,
and Col. Behrani certainly fits the mold of a great person experiencing a reversal of fortune.

Additionally,
the events of the novel build up slowly,
inexorably,
and as the reader,
I felt absolutely helpless in the face of it all.

Not a comfortable read, by any means,
but a beautiful one.

 

I was very surprised to realize that I *hadn’t* read this book.
It reminded me a great deal of “Brave New World”,
but it has a far more hopeful ending–
which I sincerely appreciate in a dystopian novel.

I loved the entire conceit of a world built without cultural memory or emotion,
and I especially loved that the world had no color–
only The Receiver could see color, hear music, and remember events long past.

The obvious twist probably isn’t so obvious when reading
this at 10 or 12 years old–alas for reading YA lit as an adult!–
but it did not affect my enjoyment of the novel.

 

It’s been a wild last couple of months, y’all.
I’m glad to be done with Lack of Weekends.

It’s time to get back on that Lazy Saturday Train…
maybe this Saturday will involve a walk in the sunshine.
Or reading at the beach.
Or hiking with the Corgi and The Boyo.
Or lounging about,
sipping some of that Sangria Slushied goodness.

It is good to be done.

Poor Corgi:

 

"I do not like the cone of shame."

 
 

"...*cracklepssshhkkk*...Houston...Houston...we have a collar...."

 
 

Poor kid got her lady parts snipped on Tuesday.
The Boyo and I may have been laughing a great deal at her expense since then.

She can’t figure out how to keep her head up when she’s navigating stairs,
so she keeps running into them like a confused Roomba;
when we take her outside in the rain, it fills the cone like a traveling aquarium–
the more disconcerted she gets,
the harder we laugh.

I tried to tell Nami that Lady Gaga wishes she had thought to wear a plastic cone
to the Grammys instead of that tired ol’ egg trope,
but I don’t think she cared.

Not even when I offered to Bedazzle it.

 
 
I am an AWESOME dog owner, y’all.