what font are you?

I took an online quiz the other day that told me which FONT best matches my personality. The result was Helvetica. I can't say that this surprised me at all. I'm sure that upon first impression, I come across as very straight-laced and average, practical and without frills. But I must say that I can't always be described as plain old Helvetica.

When I'm at my best, when I'm clear-headed, motivated and in tune with my creativity, I am Dalliance Font. When I'm in a deep fog, lost in being lazy and reclusive, I am News Gothic. When I'm getting my work done, following through on other's expectations of me, I am Georgia. When I'm safe at home with J and our dogs, I am Fleurie.

So, what font are you?

crazy dog lady

This is my adorable beast – my baby boy.

And, yes, I'm one of THOSE people... I made my poor pup wear a scarf but only long enough to take a photo.

less than graceful

I don't know what is going on with me lately. I've come down with a sudden case of graceless-itis (a condition and word that I just invented; maybe it will catch on). I'm going through a phase in which I keep injuring myself, dropping things, spilling things, forgetting things, making stupid decisions... ugh.

Not to hash through a whole laundry list of my recent foolish moves, but some of my follies include slicing my finger open at work a week ago (oh, poor baby), almost losing my Husky (he's fine, I learned my lesson), and spilling a glass of red wine on my favorite green West Elm quilt. Those are merely a few examples... a bunch of other things happened but I won't dredge it all up. Such is life – but why? Why is it always something despite all effort to avoid injury, stress or mistakes?

So, now, out of all this frustrating crap emerges a totally banal little light at the end of the tunnel – I've fallen in love with a cleaning product. Miraculously, it took ALL of the red wine out of my quilt. I'm such a skeptic so I've never believed that 'oxy' products actually work, but they do! I used Woolite Oxy-Deep Stain Remover. It's meant to be used on carpet but it saved my quilt... so then I dug up all my clothes that have mystery-stains on them. Out, out damn spot(s)!

My finger is healing amazingly fast, so no big deal. My dog is safe at home (curled up with us on the couch). So, life is truly good but I hope to cure my graceless-itis. Soon.

sweater weather

...simply thinking of warmer and sunnier days because now the temperatures have dropped considerably.

Pretty soon the mittens, scarves and sweaters will be brought out of hiding. The leaves have turned and nighttime descends much earlier than I'd like.

one angry mama

My dogs are my children. It's probably emotionally unhealthy to be this attached to my animals but they really are important members of our family. A lot of people I know don't really understand why I treat dogs like family... they think I'm a bit off my rocker.

Our Chihuahua is a rescue. Before she was rescued, she spent the first three years of her life in a basement with 100+ other dogs and she is, rightly so, fearful of everyone and everything (except for me). I'm very protective of her.

Really, I'd protect my dogs the way other people would protect their human offspring. The point was driven home last night when my Chihuahua had a major seizure – actually I don't know if it can be called a 'major' one but it seemed pretty massive to me at the time. It was directly and yet indirectly caused by another person who shall remain nameless (a person that I barely know) and I have never in my life been this angry at another human being. Well, except maybe my former boss at 'a large Portland-based corporation' or the asshole that broke into our house 3 times in Thailand or the Construction Fuckheads that held our property hostage for a year while they built two of THE UGLIEST houses I've ever seen, smack dab behind our home. Hmmm, I see I've strayed off-course. Rage! Rage! :)

You see, it's a really odd feeling to be this upset about 'the seizure incident'... like maybe I'm overreacting just a bit. Pure rage is a foreign emotion for me. I'm still feeling really unsettled. Disquiet.

If I dig deep, I know I'm this upset because the last time I had to deal with a pet having a seizure, was the day that Jasmine, our 17-year-old akita mix, died. The morning that she passed away, I was home alone in bed, and was awakened because she was thrashing around on the floor having a massive seizure. I carried Jasmine to the car and then sped down the road toward the vet's office... and that was that... the end of her life. It was a really tough day and last night brought all the sadness back to the fore.

I'm continuously shocked about how much I still don't know about seizures in animals. I'm getting better at recognizing a seizure, but I'm amazed at how each episode is so extremely different, depending on the dog. I learned last night that a seizure can be the end result of an animal being SCARED out of its wits... a type of panic attack or cataplexy. It's just amazing what a physical body will do in response to extreme emotional input. So much to learn.

By the way, the person who caused all this chaos has a nice bite from my dog. So, hyper-girl, let that be a freakin' lesson to you: DO NOT TOUCH MY DOG. And, I think I have the right to be this mad.

sunday at the beach

I could do this forever

I have a terrible memory, but I'm pretty sure it was my friend Risa that used to ask all of us what we would choose if we could only have one food item for the rest of eternity. I think my response was always pasta. These days I'm more likely to choose Soba Noodles with Peanut Sauce or an ever-lovin' California Roll. If it wasn't Risa, then it was Jeremy or Nathan. I know for sure that it was Risa that clued me in on her 'Look-Level Theory'... the genius of which I might expound upon in a later post.

That being said, you may notice that it usually takes me a while to get to my point. If you're already tired of reading, you may want to skip to the end.

My point, dear reader, is this: if for some bizarre reason I was forced to choose one task to perform for all eternity, it would be Logo Design. I could do this forever. So why am I not designing full-time?

I'm smart enough to know that my purpose on this planet IS NOT to pick up 30 pounds of dog shit each week, but that's what I do. No loss of love for the dogs that produce the poo, dear ones, I just wonder what happened to my design career. Hmmm.

Chiaroscuro Artichoke

Both dogs are passed out on the couch (taking up the entire couch, I might add). I am completing a bit of design work while sitting on the floor. As I write about this scenario, I realize my priorities may be a bit off. Hey, as long as the dogs are happy...

On a totally different note, many of our neighbors used to stop by and bring us vegetables from their gardens and I've noticed that none of them have done so this year. I can think of two possible reasons for this: 1) we've finally mastered the art of total social alienation OR 2) our neighbors are as broke as we are and are saving every bit of food for themselves.

The artichoke in the photo was from one such neighbor (took the photo last summer). After using it for it's 'chiaroscuric' qualities, I tried to steam this poor artichoke. I totally botched it and couldn't eat it. I need to learn how to cook an artichoke!