Back In The Saddle Again

Friday was the last day of my temp contract at the architecture firm. As a temp, you hope the client loves you to pieces and wants to bring you on full-time, but that's not always the case. I enjoyed working there, but I have to say the commute was painful. But the beauty of the temp system is that you get to try on lots of different jobs until you find something that feels right.

So now I'm back to looking for work, still with my temp agency but open to other opportunities as well. If any of you guys want to start your own business and hire me to be awesome and do awesome stuff, you just let me know. In the meantime I'm going to throw a lot of time towards Carolina Pear and the freelance design work I'd been doing.

Sidebar: Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a picture of a saddle, an actual horse saddle, with all the hipsters posting pictures of their stupid bikes on flikr? It wasn't easy my friends.

Come On, You Know You Want Some

Remember, a while back, when I told you guys Carolina Pear was going to sponsor a giveaway over at THRIVE?

Well, I did - you guys clicked over and entered, right? - and Nike selected 2 lovely ladies to each win a 10-pack of custom note cards. One of the winners requested some cards chock-full of monogrammed, chevroned, ombre faded goodness.

I think these hit the mark, no? I love them so much I may have made myself some too! They're just perfect for thank you notes. If any of you want some I may be persuaded to set you up - you can even pick your own colors! Just drop me a line at

I Hate You, Rain

I don't know what happened in your neck of the woods, but I had a cold and rainy Halloween. Which means NOBODY went trick-or-treating and EVERYBODY bought too much candy. What to do with extra candy? Bring it to the office so fatties like me will eat it, of course. I'm trying not to eat it but, didn't you hear me? THERE'S FREE CANDY AT WORK!

That sentence sounds weird, as if the candy is working. Oh, but it is. Working on making my pants too small.

Wherein I Am Compared To Starchy Vegetables

Saturday, as a belated birthday present, my mom treated me to an afternoon of shopping. I returned the favor by springing for $7 worth of frozen yogurt. That's fair from where I'm sitting.

On said shopping excursion I tried on a sweater dress. Those of you who are pear-shaped (like me) probably already recoiled in horror at the phrase "sweater dress" but I am apparently an idiot because I put the demon dress on my body anyway.

Not the exact dress, but similar. I promise it would be equally unflattering on me.

While staring at myself in the mirror, I said "Ugh. Could I look more like a sack of potatoes?"

Without missing a beat, Mom shot back "Yeah, that dress could be brown."

We fell into a fit of giggles - saying that I probably smell like Thanksgiving - and it made me want a daughter someday. Don't get me wrong, I adore my son, but I will never get to call him fat in a dressing room and call it bonding.

Love ya Mom.
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