Back In The Saddle Again

photo by Creative Commons user Wonderlane

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 info@carolinapear.com.

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.

What The F*@& Universe?

Just yesterday I was telling you all how wonderful my birthday had been, that the Universe banded together to make my day. It was a day so perfect I wanted to meet it at summer camp and become pen pals with it.

Apparently the Universe had one more gift in store for me because I woke up this morning with something strange growing out of my head. I hesitate to call it a gray hair - I don't want it to become too familiar with me and invite its friends - but it's definitely lighter and more wiry than the rest of my hair. Not cool, Universe. GO TO YOUR ROOM.

I didn't pluck it because, for the moment, I'm choosing to refuse it exists. Except for the whole 'telling the Internet' part. You see, this alleged gray hair is throwing a wrench in my plans. I had always thought of myself as someone that wouldn't fret over gray hairs and wrinkles, someone who would just age naturally and gracefully. But that was assuming I wouldn't get a gray hair until I was 30. This rogue hair is AT LEAST 3 years premature and I don't know how to deal with it - dye it, pluck it or fuck it?

At least it's in the front so maybe I can rock a saucy gray streak, a la Stacy London.

image source

Happy Birthday to Me!

Yesterday I turned 27 years old and the Universe banded together to make sure I had a fantastic day.

- I gave myself a shot of birthday confidence by donning my red skinny jeans (a birthday gift from the hubby)...

...and my most bad-ass high heels.

clearly, my shoes are very mysterious.

- The hubby took me to lunch for some yummy pizza.

- When I got back to work there was a big brownie parfait in the kitchen that just happened to have one serving left. I took that as a sign and devoured it. NOM.

- Around 3:00 some flowers were delivered and they were *gasp* for me! I've never had flowers delivered to me, so that was a very, very nice treat from Luke and the hubby.

not pictured: how jealous you are

- I answered my office phone and it was Alvin and the Chipmunks singing "Happy Birthday" to me. It turned out to be a birthday wish/prank from one of my co-workers. How funny!

- My Mother-in-Law gave me a gift certificate for a massage. I've only had one massage before, but it was when I was pregnant and could be considered painful but productive. I'm very much looking forward to a massage of the soothing Swedish variety.

- I enjoyed dinner at one of my favorite Italian restaurants with the hubby, Luke, my mom and my step-dad. On the menu: Roasted Tomato Soup, Butternut Squash Ravioli, Creme Brulee. NOMx2

- I got a bazillion birthday wishes on Facebook. Nothing make you feel like you have loads of friends like the Internet.

Festive

Like a lot of gals, I like having a little polish on my fingernails. But I hate how most manicures chip within 5 minutes of leaving the salon. It's like just the thought of me reaching my hand into my purse makes the polish flee with terror.

For I while I was getting gel manicures - which are super durable - but then I read that the UV gel-setting lights can cause wrinkles and HAND CANCER. OK, not hand cancer. Skin cancer on your hand. Still... no, thank you. Fortunately I came up with a cheaper, and less cancer-y, solution.

I now swear by Sally Hansen Hard as Nails. It does pretty good on its own, but if I get it applied at the nail salon with their super-strong top coat it will last me 2 weeks. Yes, I may have to do a few touch-ups at home but since the polish belongs to me, that's no problem. I still like my fast-drying options for a last minute manicure, but they're not built to last.

UGH. Why do hands look so scaly and old in close-ups?

For fall / Wolfpack season I picked this sparkly deep red that may or may not make another appearance at Christmas. Festive, no?