must remember...

Etsy Color - Pistachio

I'm digging this color right now. It bridges the gap for me between summer sea foam and winter frost. Enjoy!

 

1) Casserole Dish from claycoyote      2) Pistachio Lane print from bitowhimsy     3) Fingerless arm warmers by piabarile     4) Pleated KissLock Clutch from ItsSoClutch     5) Filligree Circle Earrings from rubyclover     6) Pillow Sham Cover from pipdesigns

please watch after your Thanksgiving consumption...

The single-pipe alpine coaster located in Mieders, Austria, is reachable only by taking a suspended cable car to the top of the mountain. It seats one person at a time and has a hand-applied brake. This moron decided to not to use the brake...at all...even in the part of the ride that make you lose your lunch.

oh dear Lord...

<GASP!!> oh dear, Lord...this person is me

hypnotic stare...

This is her "is any of that chocolate coconut cake for me?" face...

And this is her "you've got to be kidding me, right? There is no evidence that a single, solitary piece of that crumb fell? How is it even possible that your boob-shelf didn't collect SOMETHING?" face...

tell me how you really feel...

This morning I awoke to a big, fat, gray cat sitting on my pillow eating my hair. I know that some of you might find this astonishing, but quite honestly, he does it every morning and I've learned that it's the best way to get rid of my split ends. Talk about saving money!

My routine is consistent – I awake, pee, feed the cats, jump in the shower, dress, blow dry my hair, and then I wake up the dogs. You know, those dogs who can't be bothered to get out from under the covers anytime before 7:30 am.

So, today, I arise to hair chewing and the cries of a cat who clearly has enough meat on his bones to last him until 2015. But as I head out into the kitchen to feed he and his partner in crime, Bailey, I realize something is amiss. Bailey, my sweet, little, black and brown tortie, is no where to be found. I call for her, spring into "mad momma" panic mode and start tearing the house apart. She's no where - not in any of her hiding places and not locked in the basement. I'm freaking out. This is a cat who is a total momma's girl and will do anything she can to get my attention. Unless of course, she's living with Mike at any given time and then she's HIS cat - can't even be bothered to say hello to me. Come to think of it, she's quite a little shit.

Anyway, no Bailey. Anywhere. I check the screened in porch, just in case, but I know that it's impossible that she's out there because she NEVER (read: NEVER) goes out on that porch. It spooks her out. It makes her wild. I call for her, whistle, and no Bailey. Until, from the underside of the bar, I hear this little whimper. She's hunkered down in the warmest place she can find, crying for her momma.

I'm relieved, guilt-ridden, and most of all I'm glad that I won't be any later for work. We come inside and I'm amazed at her clinginess to me. She doesn't want to eat by herself or even be left in a room alone. Poor baby, she's just suffered a traumatic experience and she wants her momma to comfort her. I bring her cat bowl back into the bedroom where I'm getting ready and she eats the rest of it there. I'm thinking, "aw, look at this little girl. So happy to be back inside and not wanting me to leave her again."

At that point, she looks at me, screams this blood-curdling howl, and pounces on my arm. She pounces on me like she's never attacked before and continues to scream at me as I wrestle her off me. It's like a scene from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Once she's free, she stands at the edge of the room and berates me for a solid 2 minutes – screaming, hissing, crying – I think at one point she actually meowed, "how DARE you??" Here I am, being sympathetic to her cries and feeling so bad for her. When in her mind, all she wanted to do was disembowel me and send me to the Dexter set.

I got told off by an eight pound mini-cat this morning. Who else can say that? Huh? Come on, I'm listening.

i'm over it, too

She's an Tony-award winning playwright and activist. She's written a piece that is both brilliant and sad, touching and infuriating. Eve Ensler pulls no punches. All I want to know is, where do I show up on Feb 14, 2013. I'm there. I'm so there.

As published by the Huffington Post, November 11, 2011. Find the original here.

I am over rape.

I am over rape culture, rape mentality, rape pages on Facebook.

I am over the thousands of people who signed those pages with their real names without shame.

I am over people demanding their right to rape pages, and calling it freedom of speech or justifying it as a joke.

I am over people not understanding that rape is not a joke and I am over being told I don't have a sense of humor, and women don't have a sense of humor, when most women I know (and I know a lot) are really fucking funny. We just don't think that uninvited penises up our anus, or our vagina is a laugh riot.

I am over how long it seems to take anyone to ever respond to rape.

I am over Facebook taking weeks to take down rape pages.

I am over the hundreds of thousands of women in Congo still waiting for the rapes to end and the rapists to be held accountable.

I am over the thousands of women in Bosnia, Burma, Pakistan, South Africa, Guatemala, Sierra Leone, Haiti, Afghanistan, Libya, you name a place, still waiting for justice.

I am over rape happening in broad daylight.

I am over the 207 clinics in Ecuador supported by the government that are capturing, raping, and torturing lesbians to make them straight.

I am over one in three women in the U.S military (Happy Veterans Day!) getting raped by their so-called "comrades."

I am over the forces that deny women who have been raped the right to have an abortion.

I am over the fact that after four women came forward with allegations that Herman Cain groped them and grabbed them and humiliated them, he is still running for the President of the United States.

And I'm over CNBC debate host Maria Bartiromo getting booed when she asked him about it. She was booed, not Herman Cain.

Which reminds me, I am so over the students at Penn State who protested the justice system instead of the alleged rapist pedophile of at least 8 boys, or his boss Joe Paterno, who did nothing to protect those children after knowing what was happening to them.

I am over rape victims becoming re-raped when they go public.

I am over starving Somalian women being raped at the Dadaab refugee camp in Kenya, and I am over women getting raped at Occupy Wall Street and being quiet about it because they were protecting a movement which is fighting to end the pillaging and raping of the economy and the earth, as if the rape of their bodies was something separate.

I am over women still being silent about rape, because they are made to believe it's their fault or they did something to make it happen.

I am over violence against women not being a #1 international priority when one out of three women will be raped or beaten in her lifetime -- the destruction and muting and undermining of women is the destruction of life itself.

No women, no future, duh.

I am over this rape culture where the privileged with political and physical and economic might, take what and who they want, when they want it, as much as they want, any time they want it.

I am over the endless resurrection of the careers of rapists and sexual exploiters -- film directors, world leaders, corporate executives, movie stars, athletes -- while the lives of the women they violated are permanently destroyed, often forcing them to live in social and emotional exile.

I am over the passivity of good men. Where the hell are you?

You live with us, make love with us, father us, befriend us, brother us, get nurtured and mothered and eternally supported by us, so why aren't you standing with us? Why aren't you driven to the point of madness and action by the rape and humiliation of us?

I am over years and years of being over rape.

And thinking about rape every day of my life since I was 5-years-old.

And getting sick from rape, and depressed from rape, and enraged by rape.

And reading my insanely crowded inbox of rape horror stories every hour of every single day.

I am over being polite about rape. It's been too long now, we have been too understanding.

We need to OCCUPYRAPE in every school, park, radio, TV station, household, office, factory, refugee camp, military base, back room, night club, alleyway, courtroom, UN office. We need people to truly try and imagine -- once and for all -- what it feels like to have your body invaded, your mind splintered, your soul shattered. We need to let our rage and our compassion connect us so we can change the paradigm of global rape.

There are approximately one billion women on the planet who have been violated.

ONE BILLION WOMEN.

The time is now. Prepare for the escalation.

Today it begins, moving toward February 14, 2013, when one billion women will rise to end rape.

Because we are over it.

missing Skyline Drive

I've been spending a lot of time on Etsy lately, what, with the launch of my store. I'm always overstimulated by the color and variety that is available on the site, but this week I'm especially noticing all the reds and oranges of fall. Here in Tennessee, we still have colorful leaves, although I know that in Virginia, they are long fallen.

This imagery makes me miss the Skyline Drive.

 

1. Copper Acorn Necklace by debradane  2. Rosette Headband by darlingbowtique  3. Original Oil Painting by luizavizoli  4. Abstract Stained Glass by gallerydelsol  5. Red Orange Lampwork Beads by rachelcartglass     6.  Autumn Pillow by moonspiritstudios

amazeballs...

Seriously, this girl needs some Adderall. This poster was submitted as an entry to the Positive Posters contest. There is nothing on this board but nails and string.

I'm amazed at how she was able to create the flow of color gradient. Wow. Just. Wow.

courtesy of Dominique Falla

Life changer

There is no where in the world that I love more than New Orleans. I've been all over Europe, Asia and North America, and still haven't found a place that makes me feel as comfortable or warm. That being said, the city is not without its foibles. The city government has been filled with corruption – long before the Katrina disaster – and the politicians have always had their true motives called into question. The class structure is as dynamic as any other city of size, but is more pronounced with a minimalized middle class within New Orleans parish. The cops and the streets are dirty, the Mississippi dirtier times three.

Still, I smile when I hear mention of NOLA, I bask in the Quarter's glow every chance I get and I would be hard pressed to say that Mike and I have not thought about making the city our permanent home if the stars aligned in our favor.

Last weekend I had the chance to play "tour guide" to one of Mike's classmates who had never seen the city. It was nice for me, because I have been there so often that I don't always get to do the things that we did. It was a refreshing reminder of all the amazing things that the city, specifically the Quarter, has to offer. When B left on Monday morning, I stayed an extra day to hang out with my girlfriends and experience Halloween on Bourbon Street. The costumes were AMAZING and the party was out of control. I loved almost every minute of it.

That night, I experienced something that I thought I never would. As I was walking between two bars, on either end of Bourbon St, I came upon an crowded intersection. Nothing odd about it, really. The mounted police were high above the crowd, keeping their eyes out for drunks and flashing boobs, when out of the blue, I was met with several "pop...pop....pop-pop-pops." I watched, twelve people away from me, a young man be shot in the head and another in the shoulder. This happened right in front of the police, right in the middle of a crowded, celebratory, costume-wearing crowd. The target was intended, presumably gang-related, but none of us knew that at that given moment.

In my thirty-something years, I've never seen anything shot. Not a deer, a turkey, a horse – much less a human. There are many more details to this story, but most of you are as uninterested in hearing them as I am in telling them. Suffice to say, I was a shaking, panicked mess who paused for a moment and wondered where my city went.

I realized, however, that it hadn't gone anywhere. I was simply more immersed in it than I ever had been in the past. This world has evolved into one that allows us to comfortably hunker down in the pockets of life that don't scare us, that don't put us in harms way. We are given the freedom and right to live free from danger and to travel in relative safety. But just like anything, we live with choice – free will.

I'm proud to love the city of New Orleans, and I'm even more excited to travel back. I appreciate the sentiment of those who say, "uh, are you crazy?" – and to that I say, "I doubt it." But I will say that this event has taught me to be less cavalier about all my travels and all my adventures outside my own door – whether they be in Chattanooga or Shanghai. All I know is that fear won't help me make better decisions, but it will cause me to miss out on what life has in store for me.

M.I.A.

So, work travel has made it difficult for me to keep up – not just with the blog, but with many things.
On my plate right now:

• moving Biased Baby clothing line off of cafepress.com and onto Etsy. This will allow me to cut my prices in almost half and hopefully build the business more. I already have an Etsy page, but it doesn't contain my clothing line. I've gotten all my business licenses transferred to Tennessee, so as soon as my wholesale purchase certificate is processed, I'll be up and running. It can't happen fast enough.

• Masters Program work. I just got my seventh A, meaning my 4.0 GPA remains intact. This program is kicking my ass, though. When I was in college, I was in the fine arts program, so the time spent in research and writing was never this intense.

• Keeping up with things at work. It's not glamorous, but it's the truth. There's so much to do, sometimes I just stare at my desk, dumbfounded at where to start.

• Missing my husband and babies. So, the kids have been @ Mike's for 3 weeks because my travel schedule was so crazy. Mike, as you might remember, is a 4th year Veterinary Medicine student and lives elsewhere. It's nice that his school schedule afforded me the ability to leave the pups and kittens there, but my house is such a sad, pitiful place to come home to. The quiet is deafening. I might have to bring in a random cat and have it crap on the floor, just so I can think that the big, fat cat is back at home. Thankfully, I get to pick them up next weekend and see Mike for a solid 3 days. I won't know what to do with myself.

So, I've got a TON of stuff to tell you guys – Europe trip, New Orleans trip + tragedy, new Biased clothing spawned by the Occupy Wall St movement and some cool pics to share. I'll be back tomorrow, promise.