Drive

[ Soundtrack note: stop now, grab your Beach Boys Pet Sounds LP and play track 1. OK, keep reading. ]

In the core of my being there is this nomadic, terribly romantic and restless bohemian soul. It's sometimes well-hidden, during brief domestic lapses in adventure. But it's always there. This spirit (which, let's be honest, lives at the surface most days) is a knee-bouncer, a why-walk-when-you-can-run type, a lover of tall grass and sun roofs and road-trip mix-tapes. As a wee person (OK, so I was never really "wee" – I was a 10LB baby for the love of gawd), I spent many a sweltering summer in the backseat of a station wagon trying, alternately, to kill my brother, jump from the window to freedom, and rehearse for eventual career in musical theatre (yeah, THAT happened). 

I remember it probably more fondly than I should. I was a miserable child (when it came to being confined to a small space with my family) and was prone to dramatics. "MOM, he's BREATHING on me." You'd think a career in the performing arts was a natural outcome. Too bad it also requires grace and rhythm. 

Holy tangents, Batman.

 

[ 1984 - still fairly tolerable but probably on the cusp of becoming the most dramatic child on earth ]

Aside from the frequency of my attempted "escapes" (sticking my head out the window while wishing I was Little Orphan Annie), I loved the open road. As an adult with a LICENSE TO DRIVE, BITCHES, I find the experience all the more liberating and magical. Sitting at the wheel, with the radio dial within reach? Nirvana. No, not the band. Well, sometimes. I haven't traveled even remotely as much as I'd would have liked. 

 

You're all, like, "Amen, sister!" right about now, aren't you? You too, hey? Yeah, life, man. Life. Money and work and responsibility and the parts of adulthood you didn't anticipate when you were 12 going on 26, right? Stuff they don't tell you. I wanted to be a grown up sooooo bad. Now I want to hang from monkey bars and forget to go home for supper and have light-saber wars with tree branches and eat freezies as big as my arm. Siiiiiigh, those were the days.

 

 [ big-girl solo prairie road-tripping. yeah, what!  Self-timers FTW ]

 

[ good road buddies are one-in-a-million ]

 

I relive my childhood every time I embark on a road trip of any magnitude. Is it a military kid thing? Are we only happy when we're packing and unpacking our lives constantly?

We had one of those pop up trailers, and of course an overly-complicated and hella-heavy canvas tent. Sleeping in mobile abodes was always sweet, sweet pay off after hours (DAYS!) spent in a non-air-conditioned station wagon. I'm prettttty sure AC existed at that time, but it took us forever to get anything even kinda modern. We had a rotary dial phone until the mid 90s.

 

 [ camping in 1980. i was born for this. ]

I'm dreaming of another road trip. And really, a lifetime of them! Eventually (not now, because you know: money and life and blah-diggity-blah) I'd love for us to own a little piece of road ourselves. By that I mean: Aiiiiirrrstreams, baby! Or a VW van. Or some sort of totally retro and way-adorable mobile living space. Dogs and babies and flowery 70s curtains and Thermoses of coffee and bug-goo on the windshield and a million Instagrammable moments FTW! Double-sigh. It's the way I want my kids to see life. It's how I want to spend my summers. Coastal. Prairies. East. West. Doesn't really matter. Journey > destination, yeah?

 

 [ dreamy airstream interiors ]

Another catalyst for my road-life obsession: my parents (pre-me) lived in Europe for 5 years, driving their VW van up and over and through several countries. My dad painted the side of it. My mom was an impossible babe. So romantic. They still have the map, detailing their route. Pack rats have their merits. Since hearing this story, I've been longing to pack that map, rent a little van of my own and retrace their route. Double-romantic. The mister is on board for this part (though I'm not sure if he's as crazy about the 70s-curtained-Airstreams-every-summer idea). 

There has been talk between my parents of buying up a fixed-up 70s VW van so that they can use it to zig-zag the continent when dad retires. Some serious and aggressive Kijiji action was happening for a while. They've recently abandoned it, though. Not the zig-zagging part, just the means with which to do it. Damn, I was hoping for borrowsies. They bought a far less romantic, yet highly practical and reliable alternative: a brand new Santa Fe ("the SPORT model", my mother brags. Good lord). But I guess reliability trumps romance when you're pushing 60. And I know that baby will see a ton of mileage. 

 

 [ wantsies ]

My in-laws own a motor home, too. They should use it more (I know you're reading this, mom and dad #2. There, I said it).

 

Aaaaand: my bestie and her hubby bought a VW van, fixed her up and drove here from Alberta WITH A TODDLER AND A NEWBORN. Yeah, she's my hero. So, wait. Is EVERYONE living my dream except me?!

See: prone to dramatics.

Anyway, I'm due. Mobile living just isn't in my budget unless GelaSkins will pay me to work remotely (I also know YOU'RE reading this. Hint, hint). We need to save money which is probably the least fun thing of all time. In fact the EXACT opposite of Airstreams and mix tapes and windy hair is saving money. And, I am yet again ending a blog post with this sentiment: a girl can dream. And I do.

 

 

 

[ More road life fixin' can be had on my Pinterest board (where you'll also find the source for all of my "borrowed" images) ]

alt design summit!

Ooh, look at me blogging twice in a week!

It's because I'm inspired. And I'm keeping this up. Brownie promise.

Why this sudden surge of love for my blog (and a whole re-design, too)? Of course I've been missing it. A lot. Since making the very difficult decision to take a break from blogTO, I've been making less and less time for blogging. I'm terrible without externally-imposed deadlines. So, 2012 was earmarked for doing more "wannas" and fewer "shoulds".

Mostly, though, it's because I just spent 4 days with some of the most remarkable and stylish ladies around. GelaSkins sent me to the Altitude Design Summit, or "Alt", to glean some social media know-how and get our product into the hands of some super-influencers. And that I did. But I gained so much personally, too. A few tangible take-aways, for sure, but mostly an overall renewed creative spirit. Inspiration up the knish.

So if you were worried about my mental health after the last blog: no fear. My Sin City sins were cleansed in God's country. Luckily, I was not struck by divine lightning. I flew from LAS to SLC in time to meet hubby for a mini-vacay. There's not a ton going on in Utah unless you're a skier. Which I am not (don't let the header photo fool you). We were going to attempt the hills anyway, but I messed up my knee while being typically spastic. Bummer, but the nothingness turned out to be necessary. I dried out and detoxed with the Mister thanks to 12-hour sleeps, hot tub soaks, cable TV, and amazing food.

Alt began on Wednesday after hubby packed up for home. I met some incredible people - some internet-turned-real-life and brand-brand new friends. Big love to these awesome ladies: Jess, Chelsea, Robin, Nicole, Alyssa, Melissa, Amy, Megan, Michelle, and Jenean

Oh, and you know, I just...

• Stenciled napkins and hand-made picked shallots. 
• Rubbed elbows with some design superstars like Amy Butler (!!!)
• Sat front row for Pinterest founder Ben Silberman's standing-ovation-worthy keynote.
• Attended a blog design session (co-hosted by new real-life friend, Alyssa of welikewelove!) that was super-duper helpful for someone who only pretends to know her way around web design. It's not my medium. I try.
• Learned how to be press-ready. Something I could have used prior to botching some video interviews at CES... yikes.

The experiences were out of this world. Too many to describe. While Vegas may have changed me in one way (uh-oh), Utah did it in quite another. Balance is restored.

Life-planning is coming along...

I'm starting a Happiness Project.

I'm setting real goals.

I'm doing what I love. 

(I think there's still room for "DO EPIC SHIT", right? :)

[ photos: moi, moss + sage, irocksowhat ]

leaving las vegas... but not entirely

I popped my Vegas cherry this month.

And this wasn't a deflowering of the goin'-steady-promise-ring-back-of-your-Dad's-station-wagon variety. This was a hardcore-group-orgy-girl-on-girl-on-pizza-guy-porn de-virgination (not literally, mom, not literally). In my mind, I'm a jump-in-the-deep-end kinda girl. But, truthfully, these days, age and bruise-memory typically steer me towards wading in gradually. There was no room for wading. We went all-the-way Vegas (it was consensual).

Sure, yes, it was a work trip. CES, in fact. And we worked hard. Full days on our feet, smiling through the hangovers, shaking hands with shaky hands.

 

Proof.

I lost weight from replacing sleep and food with Red Bull (who AM I!?). Something I couldn't  manage to accomplish by eating salads and practicing yoga FOR A WHOLE YEAR. Is being healthy overrated?

(Full disclosure: my yoga/salad routine was intermittent and littered with burrito break-downs and way too much curry. Plus, I don't even like Red Bull.)

And... I gained back every pound in Utah a week later (next blog, peoples!). Back on salads.

So, well, here's the problem: this other facet of me was born (or better yet, re-born, born-again) in this strange, sleepless city. The dormant can't-stop-dancing party girl of my early 20s came alive again. Was I happy to see her? I'm still not sure. She's complicating my life back in the real world. She saw a poster on Pinterest this week that said "DO EPIC SHIT". She liked it. She adopted it as her mantra for 2012. Hubby reacted with a Marge Simpson-esque grunt. He is not amused. He prefers the adult me better, maybe. But will he ever understand unless he experiences it for himself? It's not really his bag. Yet, i didn't think it was mine either.

My overactive imagination has me wondering: was that the REAL me? Is the rest of this just pretending? Panic attack! It's true that I feel like an overgrown child most days. That I'm playing dress-up. I shared these concerns with Alex and he said, exasperatingly,  that I'm having a quarter-life crisis. That perked me up 'cause it means I'm living FOREVER!!! (Or, until I'm 132, to be precise.)

OK, so, it's like this dude I saw on Dr. Phil last week (I was at the gym, OK? Don't judge.). He had infantilism or a "baby fetish", as in he liked to wear diapers and be spoon fed and sleep in an over-sized crib (all "non-sexual" of course. riiiight...). But when the good Doctor asked him if it was hard to keep up the baby act, he said that sitting there in adult clothes sans diaper was the acting part. That the real him was the baby. OK, a severe comparison, maybe. But what if Vegas-me IS me??? Or at least a tiny part of me?

Melodrama. Obvi.

Really, maybe I just need more dancing in my life. And maybe "DO EPIC SHIT" doesn't have to mean base-jumping or quitting my job to pursue a career as an R&B back-up dancer (I WANT TO SOOOO BAD) or moving to Morocco or getting Nicki Minaj bum implants. Maybe it just means being that jump-in-the-deep-end girl that I imagine myself to be. Maybe it's just going out-out more. And wearing my purple sequined hat or my "fashion turban" no matter how many new nicknames I might acquire at work. And drinking extra dirty martinis past midnight on a Thursday. Check, check and check. "Epic 2012" is off to a good start. Getting the Mister on board is my next feat.

I'm committing a big Vegas no-no. I'm not leaving it all behind. What happens in Vegas... follows you home and moves into your house and stays a while? Epic.

Clearly my experience can't quite be explained in words or photos, but I'll give it the good Vegas try. Enjoy.

 

[ Gah. I need to go home. ]

an apple a day

I don't think Buy Nothing Month is supposed to be over, but it did last a good two (maybe three) weeks at least. At least. Sigh, we lack self-discipline. 

Despite spending money when we shouldn't, today was amazing.

Alex and I and a rented Toyota hit the road for some adventurin' on this perfect October day. We picked apples. We breathed in farm smells. We scavenged through antique treasures. We pretended to scope out real estate. We sipped lattes. We almost never came back.

Oh, and it was the most amazing opportunity to put my new toy to the test! My iPhone 4s came in the mail Friday and it did not disappoint. My DSLR barely left the car the entire trip. Here are a few snaps from our day-trip, shot entirely on a phone. A phone!

Apples, by Apple:

Staycation (Craft Week!)

 

(from The Repurposed Library)

I booked the week off. For no reason whatsoever.

It's great. It's really just the greatest.

Except that I'm sick. I spent Day #1 pouting and eating soup and watching back-to-back episodes of so-bad-it's-good TV (err, Drop Dead Diva. Any fans?). But yesterday, Day #2, I said eff you bubonic-devil-cold, eff you. I DID sleep in a little, but was far more productive.

The purpose of this week was inteneded to be productivity + relaxation. I can't quite manage the latter. Unless it's forced upon me by, say, being sick. Well, there you have it. Success?

Anyway, I'm trying to prep for the holidays, Etsy-wise and just maybe get my Dudley & Bea goods into at least one retail shop before Christimas. It's not that the interest isn't there. Really, I've has wholesale requests from shops in Toronto, Florida, Austin, and even Australia. It's my readiness. I'm not ready. During my previous crafty venture, I rushed things. I didn't nail down my methods or patterns or even a cohesive style. This time, I'm doing it right, dammit! So that's what this week is about: getting closer to "right".

Also, this week is about: hot yoga, brunches with mat-leave moms & night-shift friends, finally getting my passport updated, blogging like crazy, cleaning out the basement, painting the washroom, painting (as in canvases! as in art! as in omigosh I'm using my big expensive art school education for once!), finishing the art wall in our bedroom, and crafting while devouring season 3 of The United States of Tara. All while Alex is at work. I might also book a facial or a massage or a pedi. There should be something a little lavish in this mix, yeah?

Since much of my Staycay (or as I've been calling it: Craft Week) will be spent DIY-ing, here are some images that have inspired me:

So we bought some old maps at a flea market in Kingston this summer (that's Alex thumbing through the box)...

I've framed a vintage Pacific Ocean Floor map and I'm contemplating these for the rest:

On the same antique adventure, we snagged some burlap coffee bags and they'd be pretty awesome as a makeshift bulletin board:

All of this is part of one big masterpiece: the yet-untouched accent wall in our bedroom. It's been sadly empty for so long, but I've been working on Alex to recreate something like the below. He's in.

I'm also painting. "Starving Artist" is one of my many alter-egos. I put enough money and time and blood and sleep loss into becoming the illustrator that I never actually became. It's nice to get a little pay-off occasionally. Even though I was never really cut out for starvation. 

I'm painting jellyfish. Too much Blue Planet, I guess. Or Saturday-morning Spongebob. Too much TV.

I'm still fussing with the water. I'm no longer fully confident wielding a brush.

This inspired me:

My equally craft-loving friend Cathie bought me this book (The Repurposed Library)  for my birthday. A book-cum-lampshade project is calling my name. If painting in the living room has taught me one thing, it's this: the place is a bloody cave. DIY lamp to the rescue! How does once craft project always spawn six more!?

I'd like to say that's it, but I've managed to fill my to-do list with an impossible number of projects for just one short week. During half of which I've been sick. 

Stay tuned for the craftermath....

Sorry, we're closed.

Taking a break from blogging/tweeting/obsessively checking eight hundred social networking sites to get a little fresh air with my mister and our beasts (including the newly rescued mouse. what?). We're canoeing into Algonquin for some backcountry camping for 4 days, followed by a weekend in Ottawa (bachelorette par-TAY!).

Check back Monday, when I will likely be batch-blogging to make up for lost time. A-d-d-i-c-t-e-d. 

Toodles!

p.s. Reminder: Sweet Thing CD release - August 18th @ Mod Club. Tix available NOW!
p.p.s. Oooh, they have a new website too!

(Tree huggers...)