The Results

So it appears that I am going to marry a guy on the train, have no kids, be an architect, and live in a house. I'm mad that I'm not going to marry Krystin and Eric, but maybe I can still call them the loves of my life!!!

I Love Love

So I made these valentines, but I never sent them out. Something to do with the recent rate hike from USPS. Yeah. I just never got any new stamps. But I still love you. Now we can play MASH together.

A Proud Shout Out

Sean Barrett, my dear friend, Goddamn! I'm so proud! That painting on the flyer -- IS MINE!!!

Next stop, THE WORLD!

Dream Career Thoughts

So this morning I was listening to WBEZ on my way to work, and they were interviewing people in St. Bernard Parish outside of New Orleans who have gone back to their broken neighborhood and are working together to fix it. It was a very inspirational story. These neighbors are all living in FEMA trailers on their own property, but they don't spend much time in there. This was a major undercurrent of the story -- that the space these people are actually using is, like -- a patch of lawn under a tarp or in one of their old garages. It got me thinking about space and how we use it. And how it can be really hard to predict in what ways we will wind up using the space we have when we move into a new place. It awakened the dream architect in me. I'm going to dust off the old copy of A Pattern Language and read up on this very fascinating subject.

As an aside, WBEZ -- you've gotta quit playing stories that bring me to tears on my commute. Ok? Thanks.

Pont Something or Other

Pont Something or Other
Originally uploaded by maelid.

Paris, I'm coming back for you. T-minus 37 days to liftoff. How I've missed you & your lovely sights!

Already Gone!

The dress is gone! Vanished from the website!

Here is an image of it. Candy-apple red. Superiorly Red. O! I missed my chance with thee!

Hot Couture

When I was 15, somehow I convinced my mom to let me employ a professional seamstress to create my dream of a homecoming dress. It was so the realization of my deepest girly fantasies: selecting the fabric, going to fittings, twirling around in the red high heels I got to match. I daresay that at the Henry D. Sheldon High Homecoming of 1993, I should have been Sophomore princess by the sheer power of my adorable dress. You see, it was near impossible in a town the size of Eugene to find a dress that you and only you would be wearing. Remember those velvet sheaths with the scalloped, off-the-shoulder thing going on? Yeah. Freshman year, I double dated with Jaime Gregory and we both had the same dress on. Talk about embarrassing! (Though not as embarrassing as my date Shane Goff's Cosby sweater).

Well, imagine my delight when I saw this. Almost the exact same dress! Only mine had little straps. I almost want to buy it because for reasons I cannot explain, I don't have the original anymore. Did I lend it to you? If you still have it, can I have it back?

Kinder-Marketing

I have been stewing awhile on this new Ricola ad campaign. I mean, WTF? Mystery cougher? Did Ricola hire a kindergarten class to handle their winter campaign? As if it isn't already gross enough having to sit in a train car/city bus and endure people REAL coughing...

I think the mystery cougher ("I could be a man, or I could be...a woman") is going to be at the Art Institute today. Will you be there, with Ricolas to give?

Because it was so funny

Want to hear a funny story?

This morning, I was in the bathroom and brushing my teeth. I heard a noise from the bedroom and I assumed it was Ian saying my name because he usually makes a half-assed attempt to get me back into bed every morning. So I yell, "Did you just say my name?" and he goes "Are you joking? I just farted."

We laughed really hard.

My new name is (insert fart noise here)