Friday, March 31, 2006

Good Hair Day



Those roots need dying. There's a rare glimpse of my natural hair color.

(Oh, and my tax info is all reckoned with and off to my accountant. Woohoo!)

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Whim Day
Last night, I got a super email from Helen of Stripy Sock Studio saying she had Whim-Day-ed herself out of feeling blah yesterday. So super!

My whim day was fairly pedestrian. I admit it.

First thing, I wore a heck of a lot of color:

This made me happy. And a nice counterpoint to the gray drizzly day.

I hit the #147 bus. It's my favorite, it's the "field trip bus." It goes down Lake Shore Drive express to Michigan Avenue. It reminds me of when my gradeschool class would go from the suburbs into the Twin Cities to go to a museum or the zoo. You'd fly down the highway until that moment when you saw the skyline and knew you were going into the city. It was such a rush for me as a kid.

I looked over and saw that there was a big orange and a big apple on the floor of the bus:

Like apples and oranges.

Oh, and I caught a glimpse of someone littering. I abhor littering, but I was less angry viewing this, because the person threw three broken cigarettes out of the window. I like to think they were finally fed up with smoking and vowing to quit.

Downtown I didn't do anything special. Returned a backpack. Fantastic backpack, but the graphite color didn't thrill me (it's much more medium gary than nearly-black on the site). Tried to spend a couple gift certificates. Did successfully spend my Savvy Traveller one. Grabbed a smoothie and a cookie and headed home.

Home? Where's my sense of adventure?? My main whim today was to sit down and eat up the first two Season 5 DVDs of Six Feet Under from Netflix. I'm a huge SFU fan, who got rid of cable after Season 2.

Got home, got my DVDs, crawled under my covers with my hedgehog:



Extreme close up!

Numo was super explore-y. I thought he might just curl up and sleep. Heck no! He loved digging around in my blankets. He even purred a bit! That's super rare. Since I was having a hard time keeping track of him in my blankets (Don't want him off the bed and behind a bookshelf; gotta be on pee and poop watch), I put him in his Kritter Krawler. He ran around for over an hour! He's so fun in the ball when he's in the mood for running in it, not napping in it.

After one DVD watched, I headed out to drop it in the mail and check my mail.

At the local dollar store, I got this:

I've been wanting one of these cheapo hampers 4EVER. I now feel complete.

Joy of Joys! I got my new backpack! I returned a graphite High Sierra "Locker" style backpack earlier in the day, because the color didn't have enough oomph. $20 less and free shipping from eBags, I got the stunning red version.

Wait, now I feel complete.

And I added a patch from our Chicago Craft Mafia:


Back to Six Feet Under. Yoga. Post-yoga I took out big bin of fabric scraps and comtniued to work on my scrap quilt:

Lousy pic, but you get a idea. A heck of a lot was done, but I put together a lot of medium sized chunks. I've got loads of scraps still - this may be one huge quilt.

I tuckered myself out and went to bed. Whim Day done. Tomorrow, TAXES. [cue looming doom music.]

Monday, March 27, 2006

Shall I keep my hair like this for my first date in an hour?

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

The 3 Hats of Chicago
I learned a truth recently.

The backstory: One day I was walking down the street, I ran into my friend and Numositter, Sandra. She had a knit hat with a bill on. I said, "I need a hat like that." She laughed and said, "You can get it at any dollar store." Note to self: Get one of those hats.

I returned from a trip to Champaign-Urbana. I return home where Sandra had left me a surprise. A knit hat with a bill! Aw, that Sandra's such a nice gal.

I wore the hat on a chilly day. Apparently, wearing the hat gave me the ability to see the hats. Everywhere. They are ubiquitous!

Looking around, I realized that 70% of Chicagoans wore three hats.

The cap

(I look oh-so-butch, eh?)


The hat

(I either look insane or like a longshoreman.)

The cap and the hat had sex, the hat got pregnant and they had a baby.



The caphat.

I feel like a whole new level of hat consciousness.

Brrrrr Zzzzzz

Gah! After a few days of a radiator induced sweat lodge, last night was fuh-reezing! I when to bed with my futon bed up in couch position with all of my blankets and pillows piled up on me.

Friday, March 17, 2006

Tear to Remove Lid

Appropos of nothing. I just like it.

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Friday, March 10, 2006

Aw, Heck.
So, this week was a doozy. Got sick Monday. Broke up with Eric Thursday. Which has hit me harder than I expected. Since it's my blog and not Eric's, all I'll say is that he's a good guy and it didn't work out.

How long until you blog about a new beau? I learned it's longer than one month. It may be a koan.

Today, I was:
1. mostly but not completely well.
2. incredibly sullen about the breakup.
3. Completely tired of my funk, but still inert.
4. Itching to exercise, which I hadn't done all week.
5. Completely stir crazy.

My sweet friend Anne coaxed me out to go to a concert. Good friend, fun music. Sounds fun. And I'll even walk the 3.6 miles to meet Anne. I donned headphones and tennis shoes and hit the road.

It happens that my destination was due southwest. So, I zigzagged. Turn left, turn right, turn left, turn right...

Going well. Nice day. Clearing my head, listening to good music. Feeling sad, but glad to be moving.

Get to Rosehill Cemetery. Lovely, I'll walk through to Western and then walk down Western. Walk, walk, walk. Take off my headphones, enjoy the quiet and the briskness of the cemetery. Boy, it's a huge cemetery. I've only been in there once. Maybe the 3rd time I've ever been in a cemetery. Huge. Walk, walk, walk.

Finally get the Western exit. Sign says, "Gate closes at 4:30."

Uh-oh.

Walk to all the way back to the main entrance. Huge cemetery. Walk, walk, walk. It's locked too.

Uh-oh.

I'm locked in Rosehill Cemetery.

No one in the "security" office. No cell phone.

Kind readers, remember this was supposed to be a walk to clear my head after a hard week.

I flag down a nice young woman and a car with two women stop for me. The walking woman lent me her phone. I get the security guy who tells me to walk south past the pond and then west to a service entrance that wasn't locked yet. The women are friendly and wish me well.

I walk south past the pond. Hit the south wall. Walk west.

I listened too closely to the man on the phone. I should have tried the gate on the East wall and never walked West. I get about a bajillion miles down the South wall walking West. I realize I'm screwed.

Did I mention Rosehill cemetery is huge?

I walk back to the main gate. Walk, walk, walk. As I'm walking it's getting dark.

I see an animal scuttle across the path that looked like this:

Raccoon? Possum?

I walk farther. The cemetery isn't particularly creepy. I happen to be there right before the Spring clean up, so the grounds are dingy with loads of old plastic flowers and memorials.

I walk past one of those headstones that's in the shape of a bench. Sitting on it is a weathered, shaggy, stuffed dog.

Okay, creepy.

Farther down the path I see, right next to the edge of the path, was a decapitated raccoon head.

Again, creepy.

I choose not to think of what or who killed and beheaded the raccoon. I assume I saw a raccoon lumbering along earlier.

I get back to the main gate. It's dark. I look down the cul-de-sac, under the train underpass to the nearest street. Hmph. Okay, I figure if I see a taxicab, I can whistle my head off and hopefully the driver's Pavlovian response will make him stop.

And if nothing else, Plan B is a heated, clean unlocked bathroom nearby to sleep in.

(Oh, and I'm trying not to fret over Anne waiting for me. Zip I can do.)

I confuse one cab, but get the next. The driver cautiously pulled over. I yell, "Do you have a cell phone? I am locked in the cemetery. I need a cell phone. CAN YOU HELP ME? WOULD YOU HELP ME?"

A man gets out of his cab and belts up his pants. I choose not to think about what he was doing driving unbelted.

He's helpful, though begrudgingly so. He tells me it's 6:30. I call the security office. Get voicemail. The cabbie suggests I call 911. I feel foolish, since it's not a true emergency, but I do. The first time I've ever called 911. Okay, that's a first. New adventure.

The cabbie tells me they'll arrest me, because I am trespassing. He's not wrong, but he's not helping. Once I've made those calls, the cabbie asks, "So, you're okay? I can go?"

Uh, Mister, It's dark. And I'm still behind this locked gate. It's dark. I'm cold. Tired. Thirsty. Mostly feeling foolish. Oh, and I'm having no sense of humor about the situation.

The cab driver sticks around and tells me two more times I'll be arrested.

Thanks, sweetheart.

And then, the offsite security guard calls the cabbie's cell phone back. He, get this, says, "There's a girl locked in here. I found her crying..."

Gah. Mothertrucker. He gets off the phone and I say firmly, "Let the record show, I was not crying."

Eventually, at 7:00pm the cemetery night guard arrives. The police are about two minutes behind inside the gate. Huh?

I walk up to the gate and ask the guard if the police need me. Nope, they just want to leave through this gate.

I wait. When the police pulled up and I ask them, "Do you need anything from me?"

The police officer, "Nope. What happened?"

"Just went for a walk and didn't look at the hours and got locked in." (I spared them my health and love woes.)

The officer in the passenger seat shrugged and said, "All's well that ends well."

Even though I felt compelled to kick the begrudgingly helpful cab driver in the shin, I hire him to take me home. I tip him a ludicrous amount. I don't want to reward the way he was being a jerk, but I can still be a bigger person and appreciate his time and help.

Home again. Super thirsty, chilled and tired.

I call Anne. "Are you okay??" "Yes. Long story short. I got locked in the cemetery. I'm fine now, but I'm in for the night." She's a good pal. After I talk to her, I listen to the two messages she left. In the second one, she sneaks in "Don't be dead."

Hot bath and warm blankets forthcoming. Perhaps I'll find this funny soon. Once I get over myself.

Q & A
From Heather -
Q: "BRANDY! I'm sorry to hear you're illin, but OH MAN I am in LOVE with what appears to be a brightly colored storage system in your house. Tell me more! Is it prefab, is it built in, did you make it...what? I WANT!"



A: Short answer - modified Ikea.

I bought six 8-drawer, wood cd storage cabinets back 'round 1998. They went unpainted for ages. I painted them five years ago with a strategy. I took out my Pantone book and picked 12 colors. 12 colors that are the color scheme of my apartment. 4 drawers of each colors: bubblegum pink, red, red-orange, orange, egg yolk yellow, leaf green, evergreen, baby blue, cobalt blue, eggplant, black and white.

And those colors are tied to other things in the apartment: The red futon, the leaf green chair, the black metal cabinet/teevee stand, my egg yolk yellow desk. It's the apex of all the major items in the apartment.

But the primary thing? It holds a heck of a lot of stuff. Some drawer contents/themes:
• Tape (2 drawers!)
• Glue
• Dye
• Tissue paper
• Eyelets/Punches
• Family photos
• Miscellaneous cords
• Batteries & chargers
• Medium (Matte and Gloss)
• Hooks & clips
• String & wire
• etc

Now at Ikea, the closest cousins are Mackis and Fira.

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Self Portrait Tuesday

Okay. It's a really odd pic. But I like that about it.

I'm sick. My annual cold set in yesterday. Sore throat, a tad achey, definitely cranky. I bombarded my system with orange juice, water and tea yesterday. Woke up today choking on my throat. My throat is so swollen it's gagging me. It is incredibly disgusting to feel compelled to hock a loogie - but NO it's your throat.

Thankfully, I tend to get sick when I have time to be sick. Thanks, body, you're a pal. Gonna read and rest and work on some Print Gocco.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

See You in C-U
I went to Champain-Urbana this weekend to meet my new "nephew" Theodore. The new son of my good friends Gwen and Dan. Theo is also my birthday neighbor, born the day before my 32nd. Here's the new human being zonked out on me:


Here's Theo's tiny hand:


Theo's lil hand and Dan's big one:


The Costa-Jacobsohn Family Unit:



Gwen, Theo, Dan and Max.

When Gwen and I were coordinating my arrival, she said, "Some subset will be there to pick you up." [grin] That particular subset was Theo and Gwen.


Mr. Max lounging with a big ol' bear at Pages for all Ages.

Dan and Gwen are obviously happy to have two healthy boys, much more relaxed with baby #2, and desperate for more sleep.