Finding Zen

Anthropologie. Eat Your Heart Out.

This is what 'freelancers' and 'carpenters' who spend every dime they make to live in their pricey neighboorhoods can look like if they shop at USED CLOTHING STORES.

The tag says FOREVER 21 - I scribbled over it and wrote FREE PEOPLE - to make myself feel better.  No one will ever know the difference.

So here are your bangs people.  The only thing missing from this first picture is a caged parakeet in the background.  Or the President.  Or an apple pie a gin & tonic.  Don't you just LOVE my stately columns?   

The second is entirely for the sake of THE DRESS.  Can we not spend any time discussing anything from the neck up or the knees down?  My legs haven't seen the light of day since August.  Preciate ya.

The third...is just proof that the frown lines OWN MY FACE even when I'm smiling.  SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!

 

*For the record.  FULL SKIRTS are the next big thing.  SEE.  Don't hate cuz I'm FASHION FORWARD!

Stella, The Anti-Virus

I woke up this morning and came to the computer to find a gigantic blow up of my face on our desktop wallpaper.  This one...

And I can't help but wonder if this is the way he sees me - if this is the sort of version of me that he loves most. 

In this photo, we are in France.  Not sure where.  Someplace...camping.  And cooking a burrito dinner.  Life is good.  I have worn that shirt for weeks.  I love France.  We are talking about driving a BREAD TRUCK to deliver fresh baguettes and pastries when we get home - because thats the sort of thing the French do while we Americans consume shitty overpriced muffins from Starbucks.   I am traveling the world with my best friend.  The 'doo-rag' looks just like that.  DOO.  But he doesn't care, and neither do I.  I am nostalgic for this moment.  It makes me smile.

Exploding Ovaries

All he wanted for Christmas was a book on how to make a BOW so he can get his own food (Omnivores Dilemma really did a number on him).  Mr. Pitts.  My hippy husband who looks good in anything...who can hang with Chris Sharma (bad-ass rock climber dude) and kayaks and makes beautiful furniture, who doesn't really have much to say that he hasn't thought about LOTS, and longs to just go BE in the mountains somewhere.  He'll be 32 soon.  Would like a little bit of land nearby some running water, some chickens and a pig.  And I want babies. 

(Oh shut up!  Show me a heterosexual woman of child bearing age who wouldn't want to co-mingle genes with some of that business up there?  Anyone?  Buehler?  I can't help it.  Biologically my body is like, YO - you need to do something with this fine brother already!  And I'm all like, YAH no shit!)

Can you just see it?  I'll be like Pioneer Woman before you know it. 

Before Black was Goth

There was Robert Smith and The Cure.  And black was just cool, dammit.  Especially BLACK EYEBROWS and blonde tendrils at the Christmas Formal when you are 14.

This is Antonio.  My first love.  My first kiss.  And my first heartbreak.  And I will learn all the words to Pictures of You and look at this picture 8,000 times as I wail into the night "i've been looking so long at these pictures of you that i almost belive that they're real i've been living so long with my pictures of you that i almost believe that the pictures are all i can feel.."  I'm really excited he agreed to go to the formal with me.  Can you tell?  No one has EVER touched my boob before, and I might just let him if he wanted to. Okay, who are we kidding...there isn't really much of a boob yet to touch...but I'm down, if he's down.  Turns out he's just not into me, or my boob.  I think maybe he's just intimidated by my eyebrows.  We were 'going out' all of maybe 12 days.  And when he left me started ignoring me, the only person who could console my fragile broken heart was Robert Smith.  God bless him.

   

And this is Darren two years my senior at my Junior prom.  He has about as much of a shot at getting lucky as Mr. Stoned Chucks from the year before.  Later that night, he would check us into a Travel Lodge (with another couple friend of ours) and then LEAVE ME in the middle of the night to 'go see about something'.  He never came back.  I sat up alone in my queen sized bed sipping Boones Farm Strawberry Hill while my friends made-out in the bed next to me.  It had to be the dress...

PS.  As if Modern Bride wasn't enough ego-stroking...NieNie is doing some more.  I've asked my agent Marley to hold all my calls this afternoon, so just give me a few days to let this soak in - it's just a bit too much today, you know, being (air quotes) SELF-EMPLOYED and all.

Love Me Some Jackass!

A year ago a friend of mine fell love with a farmer.  An alpaca farmer.  Who might as well be THE alpaca farmer of the south.  This friend, whom is affectionately known here at Zen as Cornholio, is not a knitter.  But knowing that I am, has been begging me to come check out the farm she now calls home, and the new man in her life.  David.  A year later, I finally get to meet David and The Farm.

Vern and my friend Fran and I went to visit last Saturday.  Boy was it a trip.  I was so impressed.  My little (and I mean..were talkin maybe 100lbs wet) Cornholio was out there wrestling alpacas twice her size, wiping eye gook and goobers and all!  She was dirty and focused and totally in her element.  Cornholio has found her home and I am so happy for her.

Now David...talk about someone who knows his shit.  This man has got an impressive operation going on, on all of about 5 acres at that.  He's got water buffalo and alpaca, donkeys, some of the most incredible birds...it was amazing.  'Wicked smart' and cute to boot!  I can see why she's so smitten.

So here we have some of the gang.  These guys were a trip.

 

I'm thinking of framing this one for the bathroom to go next to the sink.  It may help to remind me to floss.

A bit scraggly eh? I'm thinking The Dark Crystal.

Check out this girl on girl action.  The one on top is a lesbian.  Strange story about her...I don't recall the details, but she likes the girls.  Alpacas have sex orgasms for like 15 minutes.  And that one on top was there for at least that, gruntin' and all.  David told us one of his buddies says when he dies, he hopes to come back as an Alpaca.

Isn't that just precious?

This poor girl was wide as a trailer.  And you could see the baby donkey moving around in her - it didn't look comfortable.

Here's the one Vern wanted to smuggle into the Outback.  Those donkeys were like dogs.  Sweeter than any horse I've ever met.  Very curious.  So affectionate.  And this is a rare breed David is trying to restore.  They are gorgeous.  Now you better think twice before you call someone a Jackass.  How could that sweet little baby face ever be the reference to a insult??

David, Deb, thank you so much for such a fun and informative day.  We really enjoyed your farm, and plan to come back soon!