Wednesday, December 14, 2011

It's because purple is the new black. Except waaaaaay better.

Dear Patrick,

Three years ago, on my best trip to Switzerland, I spent a lot of time people watching. I was fascinated with their style, their easy-going air, their strollers (which were waaaaay cooler than any strollers I've ever seen in the US), their everything. We all wanted to be them. Or at least, we all wanted to stop sticking out as a group of idiot American tourists as much as we did. But we couldn't help it. 40 trashy looking kids with huge cameras around their necks and huge backpacks on their backs will always stick out no matter how many of them wear their brand new H&M scarves. Anyway, in all of my people watching, I found that there was a high percentage of classy Swiss women who had deep purple hair. I was obsessed. I would tell Ashlee multiple times a day how much I wanted that purple hair. Ashlee would then tell me multiple times a day how stupid I was. And I didn't even care. I ached for it. When I walked past a salon, it was really hard for me to not walk in and just demand it. I don't know how I left that country with my boring brown hair, but I did.

When I returned home, I told my trusted hair cutter allllll about it. He said, "Purple hair? That would be a tragedy!" And all my desires shriveled up. But they didn't die.

Years have passed and I've had a few spontaneous dye-jobs here and there. The memory of that purple hair became a lovely fairy tale that would never come true. I've never been one to consistently color my hair. Brown is brown and I like boring. Boring is just so cheap. But, with a very small amount of recent art-world success, I decided my boring needed less boring and I scheduled a hair appointment with no plans of how it would turn out in my head.

With a scheduling mix up, I didn't get to see my regular hair cutter and was put with his awesome counterpart instead. We discussed the haircut plan-- a lot more layers but keep the length. "But Chad, I NEEEEED a change". Then we moved on to color.
"What were you thinking?" he said.
"Dark, not black, but dark." I replied.
"Hmmmm... let me see your wrist," he said as he moved to kneel in front of me and inspect the coloring of my skin. "What do you think about adding violet?"

My heart starts pounding. This was it! I've waited so many years for a man to kneel in front of me, hold my hand and ask this question.

"Of course I want purple hair! It's all I've ever hoped for!" is exactly what I wanted to scream out. But I didn't. I was like, "Oh, yeah, that's an interesting idea. I kind of do want that..." in my most non-chalant, I'm-really-cool-with-your-really-good-idea voice. And then it was happening. He's mixing it up. He's pouring it on my scalp. And all the time I'm trying to keep conversation but all I could think about was the classy Swiss women. They would be so proud of me right now.

And then it was. The purple hair was real. It was real in the mirror and it was real when I pulled it in front of my face because I didn't believe the mirror. And then I got squeaky. He'd say, "Are you happy with it?" And I'd smile my most excited smile and just squeak. I'm embarrassed of my actions, but I couldn't control it. The purple hair was real.

Sometimes I forget about my purple hair. Sometimes I look in the mirror and it's only black and I look exactly like Wednesday Addams, no different. Sometimes I think, "It's purple. It's really purple. I can't have purple hair, that's ridiculous." And sometimes it's just right. At least for now.

All my love,

Sunday, October 2, 2011

It's because it's life-update time.

Dear Patrick,
With it being October 2nd, I think it's finally time to update you. Near the end of August, I remembered how much I love busy. I loooove busy. I thrive on busy. Busy and I are really thinking about a Spring wedding. So, I signed myself up for another round of a Letterpress class at the University of Utah, became a member of a community print shop and agreed to do too many things. September became Friendlesseptember and I've been making pro-con lists about which spot in my super super dusty frame shop would be the best place to nap.

At the beginning of September, a few of my friends and I got a booth at the Avenues Street Fair and sold what we claimed to be art. We were the Ten Trousers Art Collective, a made up name for a made up art collective so we could sell art and seem clever. There were only five of us. It started so lovely and beautiful like this:

Meet the Ten Trousers Art Collective: left to right, Brandt, Michelle, Mark, Darci, and me (not pictured).

And ended with Woolley trying to pan my Shrinky Dinks to any people left on the streets while the rain poured and poured and we packed everything into the center of the booth. It was pretty pathetic for a few hours there... I mean, can you see the river that was flowing in the back of the tent? (look in the bottom right corner) But ultimately, I think we were pretty happy with the end result, even with the rain. And the nazi fair officials.

Also, like I said, I'm taking another letterpress class. My best work so far? Here:

The assignment was to print 2-5 words on a postcard and then trade with someone else and then print a 2-5 word response on their postcard. I'm proud to call this my own. I was the "all the brave nerds" and the "hate hobbits" genius belongs to my partner. I have a couple more things in the works and if I don't get kicked out of the house because of them, I promise I'll keep you updated.

Last update, my cousin, Megan, is having a baby boy this November. And while I'm a little upset that my Hating Babies Club is being disbanded, I made her this blanket.

And okay, the lighting is bad and the colors are weird in this picture, I know. So save your sass. But anyway, I printed on that mint green area with a linoleum block and I tried my hardest to make it a boy blanket. But boy blankets are difficult. It was an almost success. Hopefully little Atticus isn't offended by purple.
Anyway, I promise I'll be funny again one day. And maybe I'll post more. But I can't promise that. Hopefully this will be Friendlessoctober, too.


PS Samantha Hunter, this was supposed to be your post... but it was kind of boring. I can do better.

Friday, September 23, 2011

It's because tractors are the only logical birthday present. Who was the lame one buying him clothes? Me.

Dear Patrick,
Tonight I went to my one and only nephew's 3rd birthday party. Turns out he hates birthdays and opening presents and people singing to him. And he really, really hates when people dance. However, the highlight of the night was when Brooke and I sat by him on the floor while he played with each of his seventy five new tractors and I asked him questions. Went like this:

Adrienne: Stockton, which one of us looks more like a boy?
Stockton: Hmmm... Brooke! (And then he'd look at me...) Adrienne!
Adrienne: Which one of us is your favorite?
Stockton: Hmmm... Brooke! (Brooke would cheer...) Adrienne!
Adrienne: Which one of us has had more sandwiches?
Stockton: Hmmm... Brooke! Adrienne!
Adrienne: Which one of us looks more like a dog?
Stockton: Hmmm... Dad!

Since there will only be one grandchild in the family, at least that one is funny.


PS Samantha Hunter, this is not your post. There will be another. Cross my heart.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

It's because sometimes you just have to be in other people's families.

Dear Patrick,

The number one reason I shouldn't shoot anyone's family pictures:Yep. That's what happens.

Love, Adrienne

PS In case you don't already know this, that's not my family. But I'm obviously the favorite child, even so.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

It's because we're growing up so fast.

Dear Patrick,

I once moved to Logan with full expectations of becoming a twin. And become a twin I did. I was the third. I was the lucky number three to their exclusive club. It was a perfect match. I had "mothers" at school with me to make sure I ate my dinner and they had me to do ceramics and collages on the kitchen table. Then again, maybe this relationship wasn't as mutually beneficial as I once thought. I worshipped them at school. Honestly, I still do. They are the queens of goodness and kindness. They know all the right ways to do everything. Cook. Make friends. Share friends. Be funny. Dress. Throw parties. Eat vegetables. Organize. Have careers. Exercise. Not spend all of their money on candy. Basically, these two are what I want to become if I ever decide to be an adult.

The day pictured above is when Connie (the real and original Connie) got married. I remember it being bittersweet, feeling super excited for her but also feeling so sad that she wasn't going to be filling all the containers in boys' apartments with goldfish with us anymore. After that, Candace (the other Connie) and I lived together for one more semester and I did my best to be the replacement twin. But just as before, I got the better end of the deal. She kept our bathroom clean and in return, I babysat a kitten that consistently peed only under her bed.

Tomorrow is another day that will be bittersweet. Tomorrow Candace puts the final knick-knacks into her little green car and takes her life and this most adorable child
across the country where she'll find her new home in Kentucky. I'm so sad to see her go but so excited for her new life there.

With every move and every change and every marriage and every new thing, I get a little bit nervous that this is the beginning of the end. The end of being the third twin. The end of the club. Luckily for me, the universe and I are on good terms and it'll keep sending coincidences like this their way so they'll never forget me:
Candace and her husband, Grant, just happened to buy my dad's old business trailer. They didn't know that's where it was coming from when they found it online. Maybe it isn't the universe I'm on good terms with... this is probably the handiwork of just one guy wearing a fish shirt. I feel lucky that they've been the ones close to me for so many years. There are so many points I look back on now that I know I literally would not have survived had they not been around. Maybe it's the laughing-so-hard-you-can't-breathe times mixed with the sobbing-because-everything-is-broken times multiplied by the mood swings that bring both times together that has woven our everlasting ties. Or maybe I'm just too headstrong and selfish to let them let me go. It's probably the latter, but either way, it's fine with me. I always get the good end of the deal.

Love, Adrienne

PS Seriously, don't you just want to steal that baby?

Monday, July 11, 2011

It's because my friends are comedians.

Dear Patrick,

What? Have I disappeared off the face of the planet? Nooooo. I've just been doing mom crafts. Which is pretty normal for me. I like moms. I dress like moms. I hang out with moms. I'm a shorter, less-cool version of my own mom. The only slight glitch I see is that children completely terrify me. But that's not a huge deal, right? Right.

But, back to the mom crafts...I've been cross stitching. But in my own, rule-less kind of way. I think the people around me are the funniest people in the world. I really like taking bits of conversations or messages and pulling them out of context to make them a little funnier.

Examples? Okay.

I know that giving you the story behind this will defeat the purpose a little, but it's too funny not to tell. Darci had been working on transferring all of her extended family's home movies to DVD while working full time and going to school full time... living and working in Provo and going to school in Logan (2 hours away). Needless to say, she slept almost never. As she's handing out the DVDs, she looks down to read the label she wrote on one and says to me, "Lamp birthday. What does that mean?"
We'll never know. And that's why I'm friends with Darci.

Margot felt like she needed to be part of this picture. She's so selfish.
This came from the paper that Alex and Heather wrote from my perspective... or at least their perspective of my perspective. I should probably cross stitch the entire paper.

And finally, the most recent...
This one deserves the story. My brother-in-law, Phil, is out of his mind. All the time. When he and Brooke first got married, he'd say, "You promised when we got marrried..." in his whiniest, just-about-to-cry voice to Brooke every other minute to talk her into whatever it was that he wanted at that moment. Luckily for him, it's the funniest argument he could make and she usually gives in. This particular quote came from our recent California trip when he wanted her to go into the water with him. Not one bit serious. Not one bit sappy. Only hilarious.

I wish I had pictures of my most favorite quotes I've used-- at Christmas time I made a pillow for my cousin, Nicole, who said to me over chat once, "Yeah, well, I'm looking for a black boyfriend so... I've been trying to learn the language. I got one of those Rosetta Stone software cds." Or the lovely little shrinky dink that, of course, went to Ashlee saying, "I can't talk right now. I have a lot of tv I need to watch." And okay, maybe I was the one that said that one. But maybe it was only the most perfect way to combat her birthday present to me.


Wednesday, June 15, 2011

It's because "Andrew Bird said to wear your best fleece". So she did.

Dear Patrick,

I just spent one week getting weird sunburns in California. The right front quadrant of my body is the color of Barbie lipstick. Barbie lipstick? Yes. That's what happens when pasty white vampire skin sees the sun for the first time. And while I have more to say on this subject, we'll have to talk about it later.

First, we need to talk about my girl Julia. She's a dream. She's the best roommate that Boathouse ever saw. She left today to serve a mission in South Korea. And literally in her last days in the states, she managed to put out her first cd. If you know what's good for you, you'll follow this link and buy that thing. Or at least listen to it. She's just too good at everything. Everything. I want to be Julia when I grow up. And since she's the queen of goodness and kindness, she let me do the album artwork. Yessssss. Check it out.

My brain hurt so much from this project. I think I was overly concerned with coming up with the most perfect design to represent her music in my style. And I'm just not a graphic designer. In the end, the most perfect album cover found itself. And I like the way it turned out. Thank you thank you thank you, Julia. Good luck in Korea! Make God proud.

Love, Adrienne

Friday, May 13, 2011

It's because this one is going to be pretty lame. Promise.

Dear Patrick,
I have had a rather underwhelming life as of late. I'd like to tell you funny stories and strange musings from my days, but alas, I'm behaving normally and boringly. Please don't misunderstand, I like boring. I like consistency, repetition and the Gap. I once won a "Who is the most boring contest" in which my best friend and boyfriend-of-the-moment both voted whole-heartedly for me. I like my full time schedule. I like my 30 minute daily commute. I love my weekly FHE that sticks firmly to the routine of frozen yogurt for dinner, then dessert (dinner) and Gilmore Girls (or the occasional 80s movie substitute).

I like plans. I've always had a plan for my life for as long as I can remember. Short-term plans. Long-term plans. All shapes and colors and sizes of plans. Plans of what I wanted to do, plans of what I wanted to have, plans of where I would be... And even though these plans change about as often as I change clothes, plans are my security blanket. When I moved back from North Carolina, I had such a sparkly new plan for my life. I was going to get a great new job, move quickly to Salt Lake, and at the end of the summer, pack up my things again and head off to a new and great adventure called grad school in a shiny new place where I'd never before lived and I'd start planning all over again. Just about as soon as I arrived back in this great state of Utah, I set off to accomplish these plans- applying to grad school and applying to all the jobs I could find. In February, the plans I had been nurturing for the past four years came to a crashing halt as I opened rejection letter after rejection letter from each school I had applied to. And to multiply and divide matters further, the economy was proving to be an enemy to the unemployed and I was also being rejected from multiple jobs on a daily basis. And that, in turn, made it more and more impossible to ever leave the nest. I was a mess. That's an understatement. More details: I found comfort in my stripey leggings and a super soft hoodie. I started watching Rachael Ray, which I admit is both bogus and sad. My mother got used to being greeted from the couch as she returned home at the end of each day. I was wishing I had never graduated. I felt like I had faked my way through my undergrad and the portfolio I had to show for it was a joke. I was hopeless heap of unwashed human.

It was at this point I knew something needed to change. It's really tiring feeling sorry for yourself all the time. I needed to find what was most important. I needed to make things. I needed a reason to get off the couch. I made a tiny one month plan. I figured I could probably accomplish things if I didn't make the goal very far away. And it worked. Since then, things have begun to turn around. I have that job that fits me like a glove. But like a glove that fits. Not like most gloves I've owned. I got into the Spring Salon at Springville Art Museum with my teeny tiny tank top print. I'm making things again. They might only be shrinky dinks and bags, but that's a pretty solid step in the right direction. I'm lucky to have the mother I have. I'm lucky to have a great place to live while I figure out everything else. And, I still have the funniest cat in the world.

So, today I plan for today. And that seems to work pretty well.

Serious post. Barf.
Love, Adrienne

Thursday, April 7, 2011

It's because good jobs come to those who have completely given up all hope and are one step away from applying to Wendy's.

Dear Patrick,
After being home for a century and applying to just under one million jobs, I finally got one! And, if you can believe it, it applies to me. Starting tomorrow, I will be working in a cute little frame shop in Salt Lake where I will be building frames and talking about things I know something about. Is printmaking dead? Is my degree completely worthless? As I breathe a sigh of relief, I can proudly say that they are not. Hip hip hooray!
So happy,

PS This comic was not drawn by me, but it should have been. It has been my motto and my life for the last four months. Stay in school. Forever.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

It's because she knows just how to make a birthday.

Dear Patrick,
Sunday was my birthday. It was filled with everything great: french toast for breakfast, developed holga film, a new Anthropologie skirt, a decorated front door (by a neighbor skipping church), Cadbury Mini Eggs, pie, a book called "All My Friends Are Dead", etc. Until yesterday, I thought my birthday was complete. And I was happy with it. And then this little gem entered my life:
This birthday present was from Ashlee. Ashlee is simultaneously my best friend and my arch-nemesis. We shared a room my second year of college because I forced her to. She didn't know me that well and obviously didn't know what she was in for. I was my sweet and polite surface-self for long enough to keep her there but as soon as I found out how easily she scares, that facade disappeared. She was no longer safe in her own house. I hid in her bed. I hid around corners. I hid in the shower. I hid in the closet. I hid under her enlarger in the darkroom. I hid practically anywhere I could squeeze my little body into. And sometimes where I couldn't. Naturally, this created an on-going war between us that has lasted for the four years I've known her. We LOVE each other. And we HATE each other. And I'm certain it will always be that way. One time Ashlee said, "I'm pretty sure that when we're old, my children will just let you in the house so you can hide in a cabinet while I'm gone. And that will be normal to them."

Thank you for the best birthday present of my life, Ashlee. Sorry for the swear, everyone else. She's a menace, what can you do?


Wednesday, March 16, 2011

It's because you only turn 23 twice.

Dear Patrick,
The day I turned five, my parents signed on the house that we still live in. They built this house, my father designed it, and we were just living a few doors up the street, so we were in and out all the time as it was being built. Towards the point of its completion, my mother and I were in the house doing something or other when one of the painters overheard her say, "You HAVE TO invite him to your birthday party! He's your brother!" and he could not stop laughing.

It's at this time each year that I'm reminded of this story. And it's at this time each year that my mother and I have the same conversation. Eighteen years later, not one thing has changed. I still have to invite him to my birthday party.

Monday, March 14, 2011

It's because sometimes free cardboard is everything you could ever want.

Dear Patrick,
Last fall, while I was living in the wilderness, I had the chance to sneak into the print lab every once in a while to make things. I had limited access to the studio and to certain processes but I was able to bang out a couple nice postcards that I plan to use in my new postcard project. Here is a small sampling. Hopefully I'll get my butt back into another studio super soon and make a bunch more and then send them out to see what kind of mess that postal service can make of them. Cross your fingers.

I like that last one best. Oh yeah, and for anyone who hasn't seen how cool the people I'm related to are, here you go. My sister and her husband made this for the Folgers' jingle contest. Dreamfamily. ***Don't be alarmed, Brooke isn't the female voice***
Love, Adrienne

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

It's because of the pirates.

Dear Patrick,
I found this video a few years ago, forgot about it, remembered again and have been trying to find it for months. I love it. I want to be this kind of weird someday.


Saturday, February 5, 2011

It's because I relate a little too much to Liz Lemon.

Dear Patrick,

Last working day, thank everything. My neck is ready to call it quits. I keep trying to give myself a neck massage and surprise! it doesn't work. Today was absolutely great, even so. We went back to the feeding center that we visited in July and it was fun to see them again. And, I have big news. Today, I had an entourage of little girls between the ages of 7 and 13 (I know because I asked every single one of them because that was the extent of our communication today). I felt like this:

And I must say, I enjoyed it. They escorted me around the feeding center, they asked me really great things like, "Is Tracie your mom?", and it didn't matter one bit that I only spoke English to them and that my name is completely unpronounceable. They were really cute.And the day only got better from there. One of the girls was a more constant shadow than the rest. She wasn't in my face and she didn't even seem overly excited about the whole thing, she was just always right there next to me. At one point, her brother came up to me, pushed her towards me, and said something in Spanish that I couldn't use my 8th grade Spanish to translate. As it turns out, what he was saying was, "This is a gift". He gave me his sister to take home. So funny. So brotherly. I tried to take a picture of us so I could remember. This is the best I could do.
Laudia is her name, I believe. I hope Margot likes her.

Tomorrow is rest day. I think I'll spend the entire day in my really comfortable bed. Then it's home on Monday.

More pictures eventually,

Friday, February 4, 2011

It's because Honduras is much less scary this time.

Dear Patrick,

I have good news and bad news. The good news is we traveled back to San Pedro Sula this evening in a van packed to the rim with people and therefore changed hotels and now I have carpet in my room and less rodent fears. The bad news is I forgot to pack my razor and because it was a frozen tundra in Utah, I didn't shave my legs before I left. AND if you think I can wear pants in this hot hot country, you're wrong. So, I'm connecting with my granola side and hoping the other people on this trip need glasses and don't notice. The other good news is that my hair is a mane from needing to be cut sooooo badly plus awkward perm grow out plus I cut my own bangs recently and I'm real bad at that, so it goes well with the hairy legs.

Today was another backpack extravaganza but it was so much nicer today. As it turns out, they really distributed 1200 backpacks yesterday and today they distributed about 400. The kids were adorable and their parents were much better behaved. I'm exhausted. I didn't do much, just took picture after picture, but my shoulders and neck are extra sore from being pulled in opposite directions- backward from the beastly backpack and forward from the camera+bending over every 5 seconds. If ever I needed a massage, now would be the time. And maybe it's time to stop spending the rest of my life on the couch, right? Wrong.

Now for a few shots. Then sleep.
She didn't want one thing to do with the camera. But she was too pretty.
Could. Not. Wait.
So adorable.

The only way they know how to wait in lines.

More tomorrow.
Love, Adrienne

Thursday, February 3, 2011

It's because backpacks and umbrellas should always have whistles.

Dear Patrick,

Today is day 2 in Honduras and bedtime can not come soon enough. We took a red-eye in the night before and spent yesterday driving to the beach. Which, as it turns out, makes my heart very sad. I love the beach. I love love love the beach. I love to sit on the beach and stare. I love the sand. I love the smell. I love the sandwiches that come with us every time we visit the beach and I love that that's really the only time I like sandwiches. I love that flat horizon line a million miles out. I love making fun of all the ridiculous bathing suit choices people make. But, the beach in Honduras is much much different. The beach I'm looking at is only a gateway to the open sewage that flows into it. Your heart is sad now, too, I just know it. Let me fix that.

We arrived, ate our dinner and then we promptly went to bed. Or, at least tried. I went to my room and discovered that there was a nice little band playing outside my window by the pool. Two guys singing, with at least one playing the accordion, playing and playing to (hopefully) someone. This really great playing and yelping-- not unlike Alvin and the Chipmunks in "I, Yi, Yi, Yi, Yi I Like You Very Much" from the Chipmunk Adventure-- lasted until at least 1 am, which is when I finally fell asleep. 1 am on a Wednesday night. I think I would be upset if it wasn't so ridiculously hilarious. Accordions all night? Really? That's fantastic. The other funny thing is that I was the only one in the group that heard them. So, naturally, no one believed me. Don't they understand that I am not clever enough to come up with that good of a story? No, everything that weird can only be real life. They're playing again tonight... probably just so I could prove it.

Today was the backpack extravaganza. 4Life distributed 1000 backpacks FULL of school supplies to 1000 needy babies. And some of those 1000 got brand new uniforms and brand new shoes. I want to be 4Life when I grow up. They're good at everything. It was an exhausting million degree day, but I'm always happy to be doing this work. Dream job, dream company.
Lines that long can make anyone this sad.
New favorite twins. That hair! Sorry, Connie and Connie, you've been one upped.
Favorite 4Lifers.
New backpack. So beautiful.
Now it's time for bed and since I have finally convinced myself that tile floors in a hotel room don't necessarily mean rats, I think I will be sleeping peacefully tonight. Last night, that's all I could think about. I don't know why my brain went from that point A to that point B but it did and I blame North Carolina. I now suspect rodents to be the product of any new situation I am put in.

Please bless my hard drive doesn't crash this time,

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

It's because I need to "quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock".

Dear Patrick,
I keep waiting for pictures before I update this. But, seeing as I will never get them, I'ma updating you now. In the middle of December I moved my butt from the wilderness of North Carolina to the mouseless Salt Lake City suburbs. And while I'm constantly on the lookout for signs of rodent life, I'm continually amazed that there are none to be found. And I am so happy about that. One of my favorite people in the world (name: Jessie) flew out and drove across the entire United States of America with me and it was the best road trip we could ask for. Margot was the perfect travel companion and we mostly took pictures of her all the way home like creepy cat ladies should.
She only got restless in Wyoming. But then again, so did we. Wyoming is the worst state. We crossed the state line into Utah and I had tears. My best line of the day was, "I don't know if I'm crying because I'm laughing or crying because I hate Wyoming so much." And then we were home. Key points of the trip:
  • Jessie's dad calling as if on cue as we passed through each state with a nice anecdote of his earlier life and the respective state. "...did I ever tell you about the time I sold bibles door to door in Illinois?...."
  • Jessie carrying Margot around the Nebraska-Lincoln campus in her jacket while I was in a meeting. She went in the bookstore. She went in the Union. She let her run free in a classroom. Yeah, Margot is a cat. And Jessie is the funniest.
  • Not knowing what to do when an ambulance with its lights on is going 25 on the freeway. Turns out the freeway was solid ice. We had no idea.
  • My cousin, Jaymee, deciding he needed to wear Jessie's flowery Uggs to go out to the car. (This one needs the picture).
  • The Stroud house on a snow day. Yes, please. "Dogs DON'T stand up!"
  • Jessie's narcolepsy.
So now I'm home and finding out how unemployable I am. What? No one needs someone who has studied a more-or-less dead art form for the last four years? That's surprising. And stupid. So, the grad school applications are almost finished and I'm headed to Honduras next week to take more pictures and not be cold for 5 minutes. Dream. 4Life always comes through.

And with it being January, I've decided I need some resolutions. Here's the first draft.
1. Learn to like foods that grow. Namely, vegetables.
2. Find a new place to call home. I think I've caught a nomadic bug.
3. Get a job.
4. Take more pictures.
5. Kill the nostalgia and really simplify.
6. Learn to read and make it a habit.
7. Start a legitimate etsy shop.
8. Make.

That's enough. Sorry for the stupid lack of posting. More soon.
Love, Adrienne