Adrienne is Full Sized

It's because books take too long.

2012-01-16T01:28:00.004-07:00

Dear Patrick,

Joe vs The Volcano. Have you seen it? Do you love it? Can you possibly love it as much as I do? I mean, a movie plot that revolves around one man who leaves behind terrible life to jump into a volcano on an island full of orange soda-crazed aborigines because of a supposed "brain cloud" could never be wrong. And Meg Ryan playing three different women, one of which who writes poetry like, "Long ago, the delicate tangles of his hair covered the emptiness of my hand"? Yes, please. Anyway, amongst the madness of the film, there are parts that rise a little bit above the crazy. One of which is this:

I read a book. Beginning to end. Believe it. I mean, yes, it took the greater part of a year to complete but complete it I did. I'm a sucker for non-fiction. I'm a sucker for anything that gives me facts and observations about my brain. This book was called Moonwalking With Einstein and it was all about memory. I found each time I read it (which, if we're having honesty day, wasn't all that often or for very long) there was something within the text that would shock me to the point where I would think about that thing for the next couple weeks. It could've been just one short sentence or one small idea but the impact was huge. One of the last sentences that has occupied my brain for some time now is,

"it takes knowledge to gain knowledge".

So simple. So direct and seemingly common, but is it? The more I think about it, the more I see that it applies in every part of my life. Do I take for granted each and everyday that I was brought up in a home where thoughtful, healthy meals were cooked daily and so now as an adult, I function in a similar manner? Of course I do. I enjoy finding new and different recipes, reverting back to the tried and true recipes, and dabbling with a bit of both but had I not been exposed to it as a child, would I be doing that now? Probably not, I'm exceptionally lazy when I'm allowed to be. When I first got to Utah State, I didn't know one thing about Printmaking. I didn't know it was a thing. I had heard of etching from my art history class but the actual concept was lost on me. But seeing the prints from the other students in the hall sparked an interest and I found my way into my first class. Still, that first year, most of the concepts were lost on me but I stayed and asked a never-ending stream of idiotic questions until it did make sense. And thank goodness things finally did. But then again, it's the kind of knowledge that can only be delved into further and provide me with a lifetime of exploring.

This idea is like learning a new word. All of a sudden, that word is everywhere even though you've only known of its existence for a short time. You think, "Where have I been? How has this word been around me all this time and I've only just discovered it?" It's probably because we all spend so much time being "asleep". It's those new words and ingrained habits that make me want to do everything in the world. I want to understand politics, I'd love to go to law school. I drive past a violin making school every morning and I think, "Would they let me build violins if they knew how unmusical and rhythm challenged I am?" and still I think I'd like to try. From the time I was small, I spent a lot of time listening to other people and figuring out what made them tick... I don't think I'd be sad investing more time into learning more about psychology. I want to build my furniture. I want to grow my food. I want to do everything and make everything and learn everything and then I start to plan out how I'm going to fit all of this into one life. And then sometimes all I want to do is watch more and more and more tv. And that usually wins. Tina Fey and Amy Pohler have the keys to my heart, what am I supposed to do?

And while I probably won't do many of those things, at least the knowledge of their existence allow me the opportunity to gain more knowledge, and that in itself is pretty incredible. Or it's a bunch of weird nonsense, depending on how much your brain and my brain are in sync right now. I want so much to be one of those people who are considered "awake". Maybe one day I will be.

Sincerely,

Adrienne

PS As far as life updates go, the new room in the new house in the familiar city is good. I may or may not live in a hallway, but as I see it, that's a step up for me. A hallway bedroom is greater than a living room bedroom but I think lesser than a reclusive cabin in the woods.

It's because I'm full nerd.

2012-01-03T21:46:00.003-07:00

Dear Patrick,

I just bought tickets to the best thing of my whole life. RadioLab Live. In Salt Lake City. April 5. Go to this. You'll never be sad again.

You don't know what RadioLab is? Okay, here, click this and download the podcast. You can marry me later.

Love, Adrienne

It's because I can never make my mind up.

2012-01-01T14:38:00.005-07:00

Dear Patrick,

Another year over. Another year weird. And as I sit here and procrastinate even pretending to pack up my things that I have lovingly strewn about the house, I am a little anxious for what is next. Anxious in a good way and maybe a little anxious in a bad way. Both ways. Tomorrow I, once again, am starting over. I'm throwing things (seriously throwing because this "packing" idea is just not going to work) into my blue car and driving a few miles north, where I will pull them out again and drag them into a house that will then be called, "home". I don't know anyone who lives there. I don't know their habits. I don't know their style. I don't know their beliefs. I don't know one thing about them except that they are going to be part of my "home" and part of my life. And there is something very unsettling about that.

On the other hand, I am anxious to be there. At home, I am my worst self. On a scale of perfect to Dudley Dursley, I am the female equivalent of Harry's bad cousin. Possibly worse. I have no manners. I have no sense of clean. And everything I see belongs to me. I'm a tornado in the morning because I still haven't learned to get up on time and in the evening, I'm a damsel in distress laying helplessly on the couch with my hand to my forehead, palm facing up. "Yes, mother, fetch my dinner. I just can't bare to ever move again!" Disgusted yet? Yep, so am I. But living anywhere else but home, I'm a functioning human being. I cook. I clean. I have manners. Not great manners, mind you, but some manners still. I show varied levels of responsibility. And on rare occasions, I even talk to people. And overall, I'm happy on my own. Even when it's really hard and I live in the woods entirely cut off from the world and human existence feels a little like a fake idea I've taught myself to believe, I am happy. It is necessary for my health and the health of my mother, that I move.

I've moved a lot of places. I like moving. I like being somewhere entirely new with no past and a clean slate. And somehow, this small move to a city I already know and I already travel to daily is one of the more daunting moves of my life. Does that make any sense? I can tell you that it does not. I've tried to make sense of the knots in my stomach but these knots are more like the kind that your headphones get into when you keep them in your pocket all day (is that a Portlandia reference? yeah, okay), not the boy scout kind. It's just six months with a bunch of strangers, Adrienne, it's not that big of a deal. I can do anything except keep warm for the next six months, right? Right. Everything is fine. Everything is also a little twisty.

If you are reading this sentence, I apologize for all of the nonsense that you just read. But in updating this weird little blog, I can never promise logic. But I can promise you at least a smile from this picture that one of my primary kids drew of Jesus this year. Enjoy.

Love,

Adrienne

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

2011-12-14T00:04:00.004-07:00

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,

Adrienne

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

2011-10-02T14:09:00.002-06:00

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.

Sincerely,
Adrienne

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

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

2011-09-23T21:31:00.003-06:00

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.

Love,

Adrienne

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

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

2011-07-24T21:35:00.003-06:00

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.

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

2011-07-14T23:08:00.010-06:00

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?

It's because my friends are comedians.

2011-07-11T11:34:00.003-06:00

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.

Love,
Adrienne

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

2011-06-15T21:20:00.010-06:00

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

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

2011-05-13T22:32:00.007-06:00

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

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.

2011-04-07T20:10:00.006-06:00

via Married to the Sea

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,

Adrienne

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.

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

2011-03-24T11:36:00.008-06:00

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?

Love,
Adrienne

It's because you only turn 23 twice.

2011-03-16T13:55:00.006-06:00

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.

Love,

Adrienne

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

2011-03-14T13:33:00.006-06:00

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

It's because of the pirates.

2011-02-09T22:08:00.003-07:00

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.

Love,
Adrienne

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

2011-02-05T21:38:00.005-07:00

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,
Adrienne

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

2011-02-04T20:25:00.007-07:00

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

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

2011-02-03T19:18:00.007-07:00

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,
Adrienne

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

2011-01-25T12:16:00.006-07:00

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

It's because I woke up thinking about it.

2010-11-29T16:10:00.007-07:00

Dear Patrick,
Before we discuss Thanksgiving and things of that matter, we must talk about one thing: there are only

19 more days

until I can eat that Cafe Rio pork burrito with black beans not smothered but cheese on top with everything else inside and on the side plus a small Creamy Tomatillo dressing and a Mexican Coke. That's all I want for Christmas. And every other day for the rest of the year. Thank you.
Love, Adrienne

It's because I like kids more now.

2010-11-16T13:40:00.001-07:00

Dear Patrick,
Have you seen this yet? I love it.

The story of Jonah from Corinth Baptist Church on Vimeo.

Yay God! Hooray! Hoorah!
Love, Adrienne

It's because the heart of life is good.

2010-11-02T16:58:00.005-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I am counting the minutes until this day is over. I think it started off bad because it's my favorite day of the year and I woke up knowing I couldn't participate. Uninformed. So pathetic. Sidenote: North Carolina schools get out for election day. What is that? That's not fair. Anyway, I had planned a trip to Asheville today since I was out of school as well. As I headed down, my mind wandered to a place I usually keep it from going too deep in. I was reminded of my father, reminded of his absence, reminded of how if I ever get married my husband and family will never know him, reminded of how much it sucks that he's gone, reminded of how much I took him for granted, and on and on and on. Needless to say, I was flooding up the car as I drove. The road I take to get to the highway is long and currently under construction. There are many places with only one lane and therefore many places with the "slow/stop" sign turning men. At one such place, I had a "slow" sign and I noticed the man look surprised as we made eye contact and then immediately pull out his walkie-talkie. I watched him turn and watch my car in my rear view mirror. And when I reached the other man 300 feet away, he was putting down his walkie talkie and gave me a little concerned smile and waved. All I could do was smile and cry harder for the next 20 minutes, but really it made my day. Sometimes it is the tiny kind acts of strangers that make the difference. Sometimes it's the strangers who are the only people who can do anything. And it's times like this I am reminded that people are good. People want to be good, and want to be good to other people. Given, this world is full of crazies that we never stop hearing about, but I do believe that most people care, in one way or another.

So, to the road construction workers in Yancey County,
to the cashiers in that 7-11 that let me use the employee bathroom when I really needed it,
to the cute family in Virginia that rescued Margot, took her to the vet, bought her all kinds of things without ever expecting to keep her,
to the three separate people who stopped that one day when I was taking pictures in Sardine Canyon because you were worried I had a flat tire,
to the boy intern from USU that walked me back to my hotel when I got separated from my group in DC,
and to anyone that thinks your little kind acts go unnoticed,
I say thank you. Thank you for being alive. Thank you for taking that one tiny moment to think so selflessly about the needs of someone else, someone you've only known for a split second and probably will never see again. I think about you all the time. You are the reason for so much good.
Love always,
Adrienne

It's because I'll take the husband if you give me the band.

2010-10-10T19:34:00.006-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I'm considering getting married, only so I can hire Tiny Home to play at the reception. Or maybe I'll just marry both of them...

As if Shake Your Peace wasn't enough to make me swoon. Come on, Gabe.
Love, Adrienne

It's because "Miss Meg taught us how to make the morning. And Adrienne helped."

2010-10-07T19:45:00.006-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Yesterday, we started making books with the third graders. To fill some time, we had them write and draw what was most surprising about their day at Penland. Imagine 18 third graders, in aprons, learning to paint for the first time. This little boy's was my favorite:

Made my day.
Love, Adrienne

It's because my life goes like this: graduation, science, mountains, children, wilderness, anything you'd never expect.

2010-10-04T12:10:00.008-06:00

Dear Patrick,
So, I guess the truth is, the mouse won in the end. It's a sad thing and difficult for me to admit but I think it must be true. After a few weeks of begging to be moved, it happened. I moved from a house in the mountains to THE WILDERNESS. Don't think I'm exaggerating, it's truly the wilderness. I keep expecting my second worst fear to be realized and there will be a snake in my house and then I'll just have to spend the rest of my life on top of the kitchen table.Is that or is that not the wilderness? So, in an attempt to continue my streak of doing exactly what makes the least sense, I got a kitten to fill my loneliness. A real one. A really tiny real one.
Her name is Margot. We get along very nicely. She acts like a kitten and I act like her mother. Except for sometimes when she acts like a ping pong ball with sharp claws and I act like I want to sleep all the way through the night. She is cute, though, isn't she? That's why I think I'll keep her, even though all other signs point to crazy. But then again, all signs usually do point to crazy when my logic is concerned so I guess this isn't much different. But what can I do, I'm my mother's daughter. And because of my new addition, all I think about is this:

Maaaa-gic. Well anyway, new house, new kitten, new happy.
Love, Adrienne

It's because I'm a real art teacher now.

2010-09-15T08:13:00.008-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I'm realizing more and more that I never really say what I do here... Well, I'm about to solve the mysteries. For the past month, I have been working with all the 4th graders in Mitchell County and we are making books about North Carolina. We've toured Penland campus, made paste-paintings about different things we've seen in North Carolina and currently we're constructing the book covers. Want to see my favorites?

This is the hands-down, no-contest winner in my mind:Are you seeing this fish?! I couldn't paint one that well. I'm so in love with this whole cover. How about that squawky bird on the back? And I don't know if you can see it, but if you look in the bottom left corner of the fishing scene, there is actually another fish there, too. The shiny spots all over it is mica. Brilliant. I keep asking Meg if I can trade him. My cover isn't as great as this one.

This is my favorite inside cover:
The colors! The red sun sparkles in the water! The beauty of the whole thing! I love love love it. Maybe I've gotten soft, maybe I've grown a heart, maybe I'm just in a crazy 4th grade mindset, but some of these kids are more impressive than I ever expected. Actually, I think there was a collection of people in my BFA show that could learn a few things from these 4th graders...

For example:Black and white.
Are.
You.
Kidding.
ME?
What kind of grown-up human is this 4th grader going to turn out to be if he has already figured out values? Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant.

This is my sorry excuse for a book cover. Surprised? You shouldn't be. It strongly references some earlier work of mine, but this one is less about happy races and more about inquisitive 9-year-olds. And the back cover represents my extreme fear of the spiders that own this mountain.
And the inside is my on-going excitement about lightning bugs. It's really not fair that we don't have them in Utah.

But come on, can I please have this one instead?It's all I want.
Love, Adrienne

It's because a photo is worth a thousand lies.

2010-09-09T17:03:00.002-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Remember when I was a pregnant teen?
I know you thought I was being serious for one second. I've never been pregnant, I've never given birth, but this picture begs to differ. It makes me laugh every time I stumble across it. Oh yeah, and remember how Colton wasn't always a mutant giant human being? I don't.

Love, Adrienne

It's because you may have won the battle but not the war.

2010-09-02T08:54:00.002-06:00

Dear Mouse,
I am a very territorial person. From the time I was small, I preferred to keep my distance from people and other creatures. As such, I would prefer you to respect my ways and move out. In fact, this is an order. After rearranging and redecorating my room with a variety of new traps, I promise the steps you take in returning to my bedroom will literally be your last. I don't want to share my Kleenex with you anymore.
And I don't appreciate you borrowing my clothes.
And I really don't enjoy our staring contests. I know it seems that you have held the upper hand in the past with all of the screaming and running and calling of nightwatchmen, but I will have you know that the troops on my side have a new plan of action. The fear I once had of you has matured into a deep and solid hatred. I plan to win this war, gaining sole residency of my bedroom and handing you your death. Oh little mouse, choose your actions wisely for one wrong move could end all of your hopes, dreams, and chance of posterity.

Sincerely,
Adrienne

It's because I secretly like babies.

2010-08-30T18:09:00.004-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I have been making a quilt for what seems like a year. But I finished it today and I am so excited about it I'm going to explode. It's the best quilt of my life. Best. Best. Best. If I were baby sized, I'd keep it for myself. But, alas, I'm a full-sized human being. I made it for some of my favorite people in Logan who are having a rockstar baby in a few weeks. And, yeah, maybe I should wait to post this until after I send it to them, but I'm too excited and I doubt they even know this blog exists.

Dear Jackson and Eliza,
It's okay if you hate the blanket, just send it back. Happy baby.
Love, Adrienne

Here it is:
(Maybe if I can calm down for one second tomorrow, I'll post a less blurry picture. Don't count on it.)And my fine star-stitchery skills:
And the best card I found to send with it:
Yep, that's Princess Diana.
Love, Adrienne

It's because I must not have made myself clear. I DON'T SHARE.

2010-08-18T07:01:00.003-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I have been sharing my room, my life, my work with a mouse. A mouse. Apparently, even the animals get in on this community lifestyle up here. Story? Here it is. Last night I was tootling around, cleaning up my room and I was on my way to put away a book in the drawer in my night stand. Open it. Mouse. I scream like the little girl I am and the little idiot scrambles out the back of the drawer. I sit, I stare. I'm finding out that staring is my natural course of action when I'm terrified by what is in front of me. So, I'm staring and staring at the mess he's made of my apostrophe book and TWO times he comes back to look at me. After another long period of staring and thinking, "It's going to crawl on my face," I got brave. And called my mom. She freaked out more than me and said, "Call someone! Make them come and kill it!" It's really good to know someone with logic. So I did. He came, pulled out my drawer and took it outside and found no mouse. We went back in and looked in the next drawer. No mouse. Pulled out that drawer. MOUSE. I'm screaming in the corner. I'm screaming in the hallway. The mouse is running laps around my room but finally runs out and away. To where? I don't know. But it's not in my room anymore. Now my drawer has fleas, my project is on it's way to becoming a fine mouse home, I've woken my house and I'm so shaken up that I slept almost none last night. The nightman told me it wouldn't climb on my bed. I'm hoping that he wasn't just saying that to make me feel better. I'm hoping it's true. I think there will be some changes soon in my room to make it less appealing. Keep your fingers crossed.
Love, Adrienne

It's because children come from a different world.

2010-08-17T17:34:00.006-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I'm easing my way into this job and trying really hard to figure out how to talk to children but ultimately being unsuccessful so far. Today is the second day that the kids have come to Penland and I am mostly afraid of them. And after a few hours of thinking, "What have I gotten myself into?!" a little girl gave me this as they were headed out the door:And then I thought this might turn out okay. It looks just like me, yeah?
Love, Adrienne
PS After a few years of living strictly by Footloose rules, I went contra dancing last night. And I'm converted.

It's because it must be fun in heaven.

2010-08-16T12:00:00.003-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Meet Natalie. Obviously, she was our best roommate. She came up to USU last fall to go to school with a pretty brutal case of cancer. And we watched with our mouths open as she juggled school and family and doctor's appointments and new tumors and was still the sweetest, most genuine friend and roommate to us. Even to me, the antisocial hermit. She died Saturday morning and my heart aches. Mostly for her family, though, because I know they're missing her like crazy and I feel relieved that she doesn't have to be in so much pain anymore. I hope one day I can be as thoughtful and brave as she is.

Dear Natalie, I love you lots. You'll be missed missed missed. Love, Adrienne
PS Say hi to my dad. I'm sure you'll like him.

Love, Adrienne

It's because I'm not open to new friendships with new species.

2010-08-13T19:17:00.003-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Meet Penland.This is what I see when I walk out my door and down my really great steps. Whoever chose to mow the lawn that way deserves a treat.
Every morning when I get up, the little valley outside is completely filled with fog. Dreamworld.

This little swear word was sharing my bed one night. This picture really doesn't do the legs justice. Needless to say, I stood in the corner holding a shoe with one hand and covering my mouth with the other for an unknown amount of time before I chose to hit it with the shoe. Which actually turned into throwing the shoe because I was too scared. So. Much. Screaming. Apparently wolf spiders are "friendly spiders". Sorry friends, I'm a vicious killer.

Love, Adrienne

It's because I just run around hugging sculptures and trees and really old buildings and stray kittens.

2010-08-11T17:31:00.003-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I love it here.
I love it here.
I love it here.
North Carolina is my new favorite place. Penland is an art nerd's paradise. They have everything I've ever wanted in my whole life. I don't think I've been this excited about anything for years. Maybe Switzerland was this exciting. Maybe not. It's like Christmas morning (well, like a non-Scrooge Christmas morning) every time I walk out of my door. It's just so beautiful. Everyone is so laid back and so nice and so great. I met Meg (the teacher I'll be working with for the next four months) today. The second I was introduced she ran over and gave me a hug like I was her best friend that she hadn't seen in years. Meg is a complete dream. I think I'm going to love love love my job. All of my meals are made for me and all of the food is SO GOOD. If I play my cards right, maybe I'll walk out of here 15 pounds heavier than when I came. And although one person should not have this many mosquito bites and I screamed at too many GIANT spiders today, I don't know if I'll ever be able to move away from here. It just fits. Pictures to come. Even one of the spider.
Living a fake life,
Adrienne
PS it seems all the pictures on my hard drive have been recovered. But it also seems I'm still knee-deep in the nightmare of the incident. Keep your fingers crossed.

It's because I love Modern Family.

2010-08-05T23:39:00.003-06:00

Dear Patrick,
The following things have happened since the last post:

I went to the red light district in Colombia.
I went to Honduras.
I went back to Chicago.
I bought a car.
I dripped some acid on my finger. It shriveled up like a grandma finger and then made a collection of fancy blisters.
I finished being a NASA scientist.
I flew from Chicago to Salt Lake.
My hard drive with all of my pictures from the trip busted. Still not solved...
I saw a lot of my most favorite people (but not all) and I laughed and laughed and laughed and was reminded again that I have the greatest friends in the world.
I packed for the millionth time since May.
I started my longest drive from Sandy, Utah to Penland, North Carolina with the mother. We drove all the way through Wyoming and Nebraska and I wasn't even bored. Am I weird? Tomorrow, we're driving as fast as we can to St. Louis to see the Extreme Air Sharks show in Shelby's backyard. Can't wait.

Love,
Adrienne

It's because the photo gods smile on me.

2010-07-15T20:40:00.008-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I made it to Colombia. I flew in yesterday from Atlanta and happened to sit next to a Colombian currently living in Lehi, Utah. He read the Liahona the whole way. Funny. After a billion year wait to get through immigration, we finally reached the outside. And bah bah da bah, it's chillsville outside. If you're wondering, I brought one jacket and one pair of pants to wear on the plane. I thought it was going to be a million degrees down here. False.
So... most of today was nothing. We walked to the 4Life office here and I nearly peed my pants when I saw that one of my photos from my first DR trip was blown up to like 6 feet by 4 feet and hanging in their window. I'm still so excited about that. And then we did very little of interest to anyone in the world. Except I saw this:
What could that possibly mean? This is where you should smash your car into another car? Real-life bumper cars ahead? If two cars face each other here, magical rays shoot out of the front? I even asked a couple of Colombians. They don't know either.At 4:30 was when the real day started. We got to drive out to I don't know where with the La Fundación Niños de los Andes on a rescue mission. That group is pretty great. They do so much good. Tonight what they were doing was visiting a super super poor area (which they do every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday nights), and playing with the kids, doing some educational activities and providing some nutrition. We didn't witness this tonight, but they also provide them with more stuff like dental work and psychological help and educational stuff, so that their parents don't abandon them and they're more likely to grow up and do more. It's one step towards cutting off the vicious cycle of poverty.
I loved being there. Seeing the kids, seeing the way they're so happy and totally love each other. My initial reaction is always to find a way to "save" them from where they are, which is scary and terrible, but I can't. Then my next thought is just how grateful I am that there are good people like this in the world that want to help them so much that they devote their whole lives to it. The people I watched tonight with the kids were incredible. I also always like being the one with the camera. I'm instantly every kid's best friend. They were so cute. BUT, this one was easily my favorite tonight:He couldn't have been more than two and at first he was pretty skeptical of me and my camera flash. But once the other kids showed him the picture I took of him on the screen he just screamed and screamed because he was so excited. He LOVED it. And I loved him. It was so cute every single time.One of the moms let us go over to her house and see it. It was pretty jaw-dropping. There are twelve of them living in the dirtiest little place. And I complain because I don't have a place for myself in our spacious apartment with only three. I just couldn't believe it. This is her in the bedroom:
I love doing this. I love helping other people get people to help people. Here are some more pictures from the night.More tomorrow,
Adrienne

It's because the library used to call for Rosemary Paige Smart

2010-07-01T22:00:00.000-06:00

Dear Patrick,
My role in the family is to make sure my 16 year old brother is sufficiently made fun of for everything he does, says, and wears. I thrive on coming up with the most ridiculous accusations and also consequences for his actions. A few months ago, Colton hadn't gotten his hair cut in a while and it was getting to that awkward length between short and cool-shaggy. I came home for the weekend and accused him of blow drying it. The sentence that then came out of my mouth was, "Colton, if you don't stop blow drying your hair, I'm going to hit you with the car." It was at this point that my mother chimes in with, "You can hit your brother with the car this year because he's already reached his deductible." And this, my friends, is one reason why I'm convinced that my mom is better than yours. Need more reasons? How about a bulleted list.

Some Reasons Why My Mom is Better Than Yours

When I was in high school, she and I decided that my calling in life was to become a notary.

She cuts out the Sudoku puzzles every day from both Utah newspapers and at the end of the week, she copies them and mails them to me.

She believes that Walgreens has everything she could ever need.

"Let's just have chocolate chip cookies for dinner" comes out of her mouth at least once a week. I think we did have chocolate chip cookies sometimes.

Her favorite movie is Dave. Dave. That one about the guy who looks like the president.

We once went to visit my older brother, Aaron, at the grocery store where he works in produce. Aaron tried to escape for a really long time and he finally thought he had succeeded because we started shopping. We spotted him from the other side of the produce department and immediately my mom starts RUNNING at him with the cart and smiling really big. Of course I did the same and Aaron did his best not to look at us. When we reached him he said, "Can't you guys leave already! I'm sick of you."

She claims to hate the dog but I suspect she "pats" him when no one is around.

She's just so smitten by my father.

Yes. My mother is great. I hope one day I can be half as clever as she is. I just adore her.

Love,
Adrienne

It's because I'm Tyler Durden.

2010-06-27T15:29:00.007-06:00

Dear Patrick,

As my family will agree, I am a sunscreen nazi. I like my SPFs high and my skin pasty. However, from the way my skin looks after a week in California, you may think I hired a child hopped up on too much sugar to put my sunscreen on for me. At one point I went home and found that I had burned a 1-inch square on each of my knees, as well as one on the end of my nose. Squares. At this point, normal people would share pictures. Alas, I only brought film. If I ever get off the couch and get it developed, you will see them.

Speaking of getting off the couch, I'm going to South America. I got a call from 4Life again... easily my favorite company ever... and I'm going with them to take pictures of more orphans. This time I'm going to Colombia and Honduras! So excited. I leave in just over two weeks and if I'm not captured and held because of my pasty, pasty skin, I'll eventually post those pictures, too. Get ready for more babies like this:

Love,

Adrienne

It's because it's still 1997.

2010-06-12T13:13:00.003-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Perrrrrmmmmmed.Love,
Adrienne

It's because I move a lot.

2010-05-31T17:55:00.005-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Come August, this will be my new home:

It's a beauty, right? I know. I just got an internship at Penland School of Crafts in Penland, North Carolina. This is me, growing up. Actually, this is me pretending to grow up. I'll be working with a teaching artist in some surrounding schools, making books with third, fourth, and tenth grade classes. On the phone, the lady said, "I've been worried thinking maybe you won't like it here because it's just so green." Yep, I don't see that being a problem. So, so, so excited.

Happiest Memorial Day,
Adrienne

It's because I'm so warm and so hungry.

2010-05-30T22:56:00.007-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Things have happened. I will share them.

I got a perm. I believe it is the second or third perm anyone has received since 1997. And let me tell you, I don't know why the world let that trend go. It has taken lazy to a whole new level. Purposeful bedhead for the whole day. Incredible.

I got a job as a scientist for the summer. It makes a lot of sense for me to be a scientist. I'm working on a project for NASA. Normal, right?

I cleaned my bedroom. Now, this may seem like one of those why-would-anyone-care-to-know-that statements like "just walked out my front door!" followed by "getting in the car!" then "driving to have lunch with the girls!"... somehow this turned into hating on facebook statuses. Drives. Me. Crazy. Anyway, this bedroom cleaning was no ordinary bedroom cleaning. I am not a tidy person. Now times that by 12 years of untidy build-up of things that seemed so necessary to keep for life. Now add in ridiculous 9-year-old anti-cleaning schemes like "clean out your drawers by dumping them into bags and sticking them at the top of your closet so your mom can't see it". Then add four years of "don't want to take all of this to college this year because I share a room that was once a closet". Remove the bed. Add in some "sister used my bedroom as a painting studio then moved and left everything behind". And if you're picturing a recent hurricane disaster, you're close. My mom told me I wasn't allowed to go outside (aka move) until my room was clean. Success. You can see carpet. No, wait, you can walk on carpet. And that, my friends, is no small achievement.

I moved to Chicago. Alright, fine. I moved to Palatine, Illinois. But no one knows where Palatine is. Even people who live 15 minutes away don't know where Palatine is. So let's just go with Chicago.

I made this before I graduated.
I went to a hot yoga class and my brain melted.

Laser Cats,
Adrienne

It's because I graduated from college.

2010-05-21T00:14:00.004-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I graduated and it was weird. Danny Glover spoke. You might remember him from Lethal Weapon, or better, Angels in the Outfield. Everything in my whole life is really normal.
Love, Adrienne

It's because my father made us twitchy.

2010-05-14T13:43:00.002-06:00

Dear Patrick,
This is some of my baby from this semester. This project consumed my thoughts for the last four months. Here she is:
Yes, that's correct. I made an entire book about the correct usage of apostrophes. Just give me a retainer and some floody pleated slacks and I'll be the ultimate nerd, inside and out.

Love,
Adrienne

It's because I want to keep my friends.

2010-04-28T13:57:00.004-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Life update? Life update for you in ten or less.

1. I intend to graduate from college on May 8th, 2010.
2. I'm getting my hair cut later in the month of May.
3. I'm planning my life around said haircut and moving to Chicago soon after.
4. I'm moving to Chicago to live with Brune and Philio Saoler of the Pepsi Corporation for the summer. In other words, Phil got an internship with Pepsi in Chicago. Brooke said, "Move with us!". I said, "Yes. I will do that."
5. I still have close to one billion prints to make before May 8th.
6. I'm starving. So starving.
7. It is snowing in Logan today. I hate.
8. I reopened my Facebook account. We'll see if it lasts longer than two weeks this time.
9. I've run out of things to say.

Love,
Adrienne

It's because I'm really going to graduate this time.

2010-04-27T18:33:00.005-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I'm happy every single day because I have friends who do things like this for me:Scotty works for Coke and hooked me up with a 24 pack I needed for a thank you gift. Naturally, he didn't want my roommates to take it before I got to it. I've been smiling for an hour. People like Scotty make me sad to leave Logan. But Chicago is calling my name. And I have to go.
So happy,
Adrienne.

It's because this plus this equals Saturday morning.

2010-04-18T02:33:00.005-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Do you like running around and buying neat things? I bet you do. Good news, there's this.

Love, Adrienne

It's because sleep is for the birds. And for babies.

2010-04-15T01:06:00.007-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I feel shorter today than most days. And I'm pretty sure somewhere in the past week, a small group of people have played the "is that a boy or a girl?" game about me. And for that matter, they probably also played the "is it actually alive or a zombie?" game about me, too. At this point, I probably can't answer the latter question either.

It's crunch time. It's oatmeal-brain time. It's you-can-sleep-when-you're-dead time. The BFA show goes up Saturday at 9am and if I go home between now and then, it will be cause for celebration. Oh yeah, remember how I'm graduating? What is that? I don't know how to graduate. I only know how to go to school. That's it. I don't know how to sleep. I don't know how to keep my hands clean. I still haven't gotten past a third grade reading level. And eating anything nutritious is probably something I'll never get a hang of. So what am I even supposed to do after I graduate? I'll probably end up dinking around until I get tired and go back to school. We all know I can only function in an academic setting. I mean, let's talk about what happens when I'm not in school. I work at Utah Lake and wear Carhartt shorts. I deliver pizza and memorize the countries of the world in order of the continents. I sell corn from the side of the road. Things are not okay when I am not in school. Oh speaking of school, come to my BFA show opening. It's Friday the 23rd from 6-8 pm in the Twain Tippetts Gallery at the Utah State University. I'm currently working on a book that may help the world be a finer place to live in. You'll see. Oh guess what I found! This:I believe that was from another week of this sort but a year or two ago. Glad I took it. Glad I found it. Glad I could share it.

On that note,
Adrienne

It's because tonight I'm going to pray to wake up as a clone of this woman.

2010-04-01T21:35:00.004-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Last week I went to Philadelphia. It was sogoodyummy. More on that later. Right now we have more important things to discuss. I've been meaning to post inspirations I come across for a while I think we'll start here. With the lovely Lilli Carre. Brooke and I stumbled across her brilliance today. She made this with her hands. I want to kiss her feet.

Head Garden from Lilli Carré on Vimeo.

With complete admiration,
Adrienne

It's because I was born with a scowl on my face.

2010-03-17T02:34:00.002-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Everyday I read the quotes on my google homepage and I just love them. But today's has surpassed them all.

I do not want people to be agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them.
-Jane Austen

Dear Jane Austen, I think my soul could be the reincarnation of your bitter little soul. Probably not, but maybe it's the younger, more naive, less educated sister of your soul. I hope so. Love, Adrienne

Love,
The Bitter Child

It's because THIS is why we get along.

2010-03-14T20:19:00.008-06:00

Dear Patrick,
How were we ever supposed to come up with another birthday party that compares with the mystical creatures party? I'll tell you. Welcome to my "While You Were Sleeping" 22nd birthday party. Couldn't ask for anything funnier.

"Hey guys, it's me, Ryan! Not the real Sandra Bullock."Joe Fusco, Jr. blowing out the last 21 of 22 candles on his piece of sparkle cake. It took two tries. Please notice the chest hair.Oh the flames. And behind Joey is obviously Ox Callaghan.Grandma Elsie, Godfather Saul, and Peter Callaghan.

Jack Callaghan was also there, but was not photographed in his tucked-in plaid because he was behind the camera. I love my art family. I don't know anyone else who would take a regular movie themed birthday party as seriously as this. Thank you for being the funniest people I know.

Love,
Adrienne

It's because I was reunited with it once again last night.

2010-02-22T00:48:00.004-07:00

Dear Patrick,
I sometimes forget my school pride. I'm sometimes a little jealous of schools with more money than we have. I sometimes think I might have been happier walking to school somewhere else where my boogs don't freeze my nostrils together. And then there's this:

and it's all worth it again. I love you, Aggie Basketball. I love you, Dee Glen Smith Spectrum. I love you, hateful, hateful students. I love you, "hostile environment".

Love always,
Adrienne

It's because pathetic is in this year.

2010-02-10T14:38:00.004-07:00

Dear Patrick,

Cat ladies of the world: Here she is.
We're selling t shirts($15) and tote bags ($8) today and tomorrow in the library and the art building. Come. Or if you live in far away places like Lafeyette, Indiana, I can mail it to you. Or send it by pigeon. Let me know.
Love,
Adrienne

It's because we all hate February 14th.

2010-02-04T12:31:00.004-07:00

Dear Patrick,
Valentine's Day is the stupidest holiday. Naturally we're selling anti-love t shirts again. Behold:
I think I'm going to make a pro cat ladies t shirt. And judging by my past, present and realizations of what the future might hold for love in my life... maybe collecting stray cats is the way to go.

Come and get it.
-Adrienne

It's because I need some assignments or something already.

2010-01-20T14:50:00.007-07:00

Dear Patrick,
I've neglected you for too long. And i have a long list of excuses why. One excuse is, I am, for the first time ever, actually thinking about New Year's Resolutions. Shut up. I know it's the 20th but it's still January and I'm still serious. So I wasn't going to write a post until I had an actual list. It's still in the works. Another excuse is that I have had so many weird, disjointed things happening in my life that I was afraid that the post would be so hard to string everything together to make a coherent post. But then I thought, it's never bothered me before, and I've never had a logical flow of ideas written out here, so why should I start now? I can not and I will not. But my best excuse is that I've had nothing to do. And when I have nothing to do I do nothing.

Sometimes I get self conscious about the people who read this blog. Almost to the point where I don't want to say all the things I want to say. But then a few months ago I went back and read a whole bunch of my previous posts and decided this web log is so much better than a journal because not only do I remember what was happening in my own life, I also get the commentary from other people. Like Shelby calling me Simba every once in a while or Mallory telling me about her "moonwalking wonderboy" of a son. So, take it as you will, but this is the unadulterated narration of my life, right here on this blog.

Lately I've been concerned that there is a tattoo on my forehead that can only be seen by married people. It reads "PLEASE, everyone, set me up with anyone you have." I'm not quite sure where this came from or who is responsible for this dirty joke but the fact is, the tattoo is there and it has become more noticeable within the last month. I can't get it off because I can't see it. I can't say no to the dates because I'm scared of offending everyone. It's not personal, but I don't want to date your mom's best friend's son. I don't want to date your husband's old mission companion. I don't want to date the guy who delivers your pizza. And I certainly don't want to date the nice boy who you've known for years and the only reason you want to set me up with him is because you can't date him yourself. I am aware that I'm single and nearing the age where a good Mormon girl in Utah becomes repulsive without a ring on her finger, but I think I'm going to risk it. I don't like blind dates. I don't like small talk. I'm tired of trying to politely respond to, "Can you even get a job with that degree?" or "What could possibly take 3 years to learn in art?" or "I wish I had a fun major like you". I promise I usually don't cry myself to sleep at night wishing to be married to your cousin's roommate. I just don't. Honestly, I'm quite content with the way my life is being lived right now. And I think I'll be just fine choosing the boys all by myself.

I had more to say about things that aren't connected to the things I've said, but I can't get my one track mind away from this now. So the end.

Love, Adrienne

It's because I'm an Icelandic pop star.

2009-12-06T22:45:00.007-07:00

Dear Patrick,
Okay so it's been a long time since Halloween but I finally got Ashlee to take a picture of my best costume ever. This baby won me first place in the costume contest at this year's art auction. Behold: It was my home made version of Bjork's 2001 dress at the Oscars, as seen below.Thank you, Bjork, for being the most ridiculous person in the world. And for this as well...

XOXO,
Bjorkdrienne

It's because I've been to bed one time this week.

2009-11-19T11:59:00.002-07:00

Dear Patrick,
Come to the print sale so I can finally get some sleep.
Love,
Adrienne

It's because I like Spike.

2009-11-14T16:47:00.004-07:00

Dear Patrick,
This is my t shirt design for the sale.

Last semester Drive By Press came and printed t shirts from woodblocks. We thought it was so cool that we decided to do the same thing for this sale. I like the idea a lot. So, today I tested it out on my own and made Spike a shirt. It's a little light but good for my first try.
Love,
Adrienne

It's because if there is one thing I have learned in college it's that sleep IS optional.

2009-11-13T15:43:00.010-07:00

Dear Patrick,
Disclaimer: this upcoming week will be filled with shameless self promotion. I started printing on little Moleskine sketchbooks... journals... notebooks... whatever. Each one is different than its brother.
My favorite so far:All my love,
Mr. F
PS Please come to the sale. You won't be disappointed. I promise. Thursday 6-9, Friday 10-7. Come.

It's because hermits are people too.

2009-11-12T04:21:00.004-07:00

Dear Patrick,
Okay. I'm still at school. Still going strong at 4:30 AM. I'm just so excited about my new prints. See?
I've made 10 so far. Each has a different sentence I've found in old books (this one is not from a book, it's from Rilo Kiley). This is what the others say:

The carrot had help too.
It was, in short, a time when Eskimo Pies were not to be sneezed at in the marketplace.
Meat! We are going to eat some meat.
prepare yourself for a juicy thing.
and not even the Bolsheviks could frighten people away from the era of wonderful nonsense.
"And I do not think," said the Canadian
"I'm smart to a point," he said without spirit
You haven't forgotten your lemonade
the midget marched off fifteen more yards and called back, "How do I smell from here?"

And this is why I don't have friends,
Adrienne

PS the annual print sale is next Thursday and Friday, the 19th and 20th of November. These and all sorts of other beauties will be for sale. For cheap, cheap, cheap. So are you coming or what?

It's because art history is fun for everyone.

2009-11-04T14:50:00.002-07:00

Dear Patrick,
If you think for one second that I could find THIS and not post it, you're wrong. Girl With The Pearl Earring lego style. Brilliance.
Love, Adrienne
PS Back for round 2 Randy Watts? Fine. Thanks for killing my voting excitement, residents of Logan.

It's because every time you don't vote, a kitten dies.

2009-11-03T22:13:00.004-07:00

Dear Patrick,
It's the happiest day of the year! Election Day. I love Election Day. Probably mostly because no one has ever made up a song for the holiday containing a fictional character who magically comes to life and creepily dances around with children or guides a fat man to safety with his cold red nose. Election Day always brings back some of my favorite parts of my life. It reminds me of the time that Jessie and I stayed up late the night before Election Day blowing up red, white, and blue balloons so that we could secretly decorate the apartment with streamers and patriotism and watch the confusion of our roommates in the morning. No big deal, neither of us were registered to vote in Logan. So what else were we supposed to do but have an all-American dinner: hot dogs, apple pie, and root beer. It also reminds me of my funniest year of high school when my friend, Brooke, and I made a different politically themed t shirt every day of third quarter. My favorite said, "Aaron Burr is my homeboy". And then I think of when Mr. Ochoa nearly cried when we ceremoniously gave him a signed and framed t shirt that said, "Save a tree, don't take AP". Of course, we were currently taking his AP class. Segwaying back to the real topic now. I love voting. It makes me feel so powerful. It lets me say "Hell no, Randy Watts, you and your stupid ideas of beautification will not be plaguing my life or my house anymore" and then my ballot kindly flips him the bird. Voting lets the cynical voice inside of me out and allows me to decide the change I want to see in my tiny baby town. And it gives me legitimate rights to complain for the rest of the year. I love.
Happy Election Day, citizens!
-Adrienne

It's because Paris is Burning.

2009-10-23T15:13:00.005-06:00

Dear Patrick,
If you're wondering what I've been doing with all the time that I haven't been spending on my hair, I'll tell you. I've been making these tiny little babies:

I know what you're thinking and no, not human babies. These babies are better than human babies. They wont wake me up in the night with their obnoxious crying spells, they wont get suspended in middle school for throwing oranges at vice principals, they look nice in my new frames, they're very well behaved, and if I get sick of them, I don't have to look at them anymore. It's a win-win-win situation I have going here. I mean, my mom still has to look at me after 21 years of being annoying. If only she had picked up printmaking in her early years...

So these are the prints I'm submitting to the undergrad show this year. If the stars align just right, they'll let them in the show and then you'll have to go see it. It starts Monday and ends November 13th. It's in the new gallery in the Fine Arts building- Studio 102. There will be food on Monday from 6-8 PM. Usually good food. So I guess you have to come.

But seriously, my hair is getting really ugly,
Adrienne

It's because Alex and I realized today that we missed Autumn. Not in a "longing" sort of way, but in a "forgot to pay attention" sort of way.

2009-10-09T23:36:00.013-06:00

Dear Patrick,

So, I found this blog. Basically all I do in my whole life is find one interesting thing and use that interesting thing's links to other interesting things. All day. Everyday. So, I found this blog. What I gather is that he's an illustrator but his blog is mostly quotes and ideas from other people. He posts everything he finds interesting whether it's from smart people books or he has overheard a 6 year old talking to her mom in a bookstore. I'm fascinated. One of the best:

“Basically there are two kinds of designers: helicopters and vending machines. The helicopters fly around the landscape zooming in to investigate, backing off to get a better panoramic view. On the other hand vending machines tend to be inert until someone shoves money in a slot. They then produce a lot of buzzing, whirring and clanking, until out pops a product. It is invariably the same as the previous one, and will be the same as the next. The only difference is the next is usually staler.”

Alan FletcherI love it. I hope to be a helicopter one day. But as it is, I can't even figure out how to make all the type the same on this post. Okay. Goodnight Frank Chimero. Goodnight pathetic yet fruitful Friday night.Love, Adrienne

It's because Skinny Love is just not a happy song.

2009-10-04T23:41:00.002-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I read my horoscope everyday. I love it. The universe knows me so well. I mean, no... I don't think it's real or anything. No... that's silly. But I love reading it anyway. However, today it said this to me: "your words might only serve to complicate matters as interactive Mercury forms a crunchy quincunx with confusing Neptune." A crunchy quincunx? Will someone please tell me what the universe is trying to say to me? I don't understand.
Love,
Adrienne

It's because I don't have a job. I go to school and I go home and all I think about is school and girly shows. That's it.

2009-09-30T17:29:00.003-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I'm great at apologizing for never writing and then I continue not writing. The good bad news is I'm going to right my ways and start writing. Whether I have anything to say or not. And since I've been so bad at keeping up, I'm sure it's going to be so boring for a long time. I apologize now for all the boredom I will soon cause you.

It snowed today. It's September. A couple weeks ago at Family Home Evening with Whitney, we watched this episode and hello, this is me. Minus the "years of bliss".

It's Mother Nature's "screw you, Adrienne". It's just so. true. Luckily, it didn't stick to the Logan floor for good but it was there and I saw it.
Just one more Logan winter, Adrienne, that's all.
The good news is, at the end of the episode, Luke makes everything better by making Lorelai an ice rink in her front yard. One day I hope Luke turns into a real person and comes to my house to make an ice rink in my front yard. That's all I want in my whole life.

On another note, Gossip Girl is not one bit good.
On a better note, Paper Heart is really great.

That's all.

Love to Luke Daynes,
Adrienne

It's because this is just a tribute.

2009-09-28T12:09:00.001-06:00

Dear Patrick,
So, Kid Theodore. Coming back to the homeland. To play for us after a long, painful seperation. They're playing in Provo at the Velour on October 9th and in Salt Lake at Kilby Court on October 10th. You should probably attend. You should probably attend both. And if this video doesn't cause you to form an insta-crush for them, Brandon and his cookie sheet percussion will.

Love always,
Adrienne

It's because she belongs in Logan with me.

2009-09-07T23:25:00.004-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Missy+50 Cent+Adrienne=

Love, Adrienne

It's because Family. Isn't it about time?

2009-08-31T01:20:00.003-06:00

Dear Patrick,

Too long, too much. Skipping it and moving on.

I intended to post this before midnight, but since I haven't gone to sleep yet, I still consider today Sunday. However, with it being as late as it is multiplied by the state of my brain, I can't guarantee that any of this will make sense to anyone outside of my head.

This is probably my favorite picture of my parents that has ever been taken. My mother hates this. All the more reason for me to love it. How great is the expression on his face?

Anyway, I've been thinking that I should have done something like this long ago, but with today, August 30th, being the 58th anniversary of my father's birth, what better time to say nice things about the man? I can think of none.

A Small Sampling of Reasons Why Gordon Smart Didn't Suck:

1. He didn't possess the tiniest bit of selfishness. This is always the first thing I think about when I think of his qualities. Everything he did, he did it with someone else in mind. Even if that meant bringing our left over heart-shaped pancakes to the next door neighbors on Valentines day.

2. He liked everyone. Yes, I think everyone. He always found a way to make every single person, whether it was his brother, a client, or the mechanic, feel like they were his number one best friend.

3. He was funny/not funny. If you knew him at all, you knew that when you saw him he would tell you a really awful joke. The kind of joke that you laugh only out of pity because it is not one bit funny but he sure thought it was. The kind of joke that went like, "How many animals did Moses have on the ark?" and for some reason there was a little bit of an appeal about it. Not the sort of appeal that would ever make you retell the joke, but the sort of appeal that made you think he must be funny.

4. He knew everything. Of this, I am certain. There wasn't a question I could ask that he didn't know the answer to. I don't get how one man could know all there is to know. He even knew the answers to my sciencey questions. Who understands that stuff? Not me, I can tell you that much.

5. He liked my mom more than a friend. Even more than a girlfriend.

6. He had a rock-solid foundation in the gospel. He always knew what was right and he chose it. Always. You didn't have to know him long before you could see his testimony exploding out of him.

7. He had a deep passion for punctuation. And plurals and spelling as well. I think he would probably be just as outraged by the stupid billboard outside of UVU as I am. It's MASTERS degree you idiots. Not Master. Who gets a Master degree? That doesn't even make sense. It also doesn't make sense why I am the only one in the world who loses sleep over the thing.

8. He colored for a living. He was pretty great at it, too. He colored a lot of houses in his career. According to some very good sources, he was a master at perspective. I'm jealous.

9. He liked Squirt. And so do I.

That's all I am writing about that today. I'm off to bed.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

Love,
Adrienne

It's because it's nice to meet you, Poladroid.

2009-08-30T21:04:00.002-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Goodbye summer.
Love, Adrienne

It's because the people at Utah Lake are motherless heathens.

2009-07-11T17:07:00.002-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Remember earlier, after walking into the second most appalling bathroom of the day at work, Darci said, "Adrienne, stop screaming now. People are going to think you're getting murdered."? Yep. It happened. Now I have to go clean myself with acid to remove the smell.
Love,
Adrienne

It's because they were holding a butterfly.

2009-06-30T22:12:00.002-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I've been a slacker. And I have so much to tell. But I'm not going to. I'm just going to continue to be a slacker. Here is one picture from our trip to Santa Fe. I love it.

It was taken in a house by the mudpeople. It's made of mud and glass bottles.
That's all today,
Adrienne

It's because it's because it's because.

2009-06-09T21:12:00.002-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Remember them?
Love,
Adrienne

It's because I was a little bit stressed.

2009-06-05T01:58:00.014-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Let's talk about this wedding. The pictures are complete and after going through each one with a fine tooth comb, I've decided that maybe it wasn't as bad as I expected. You tell me.

I know I already posted this... but this one is lots better.

Loved those cardboard birds they made.There's something wonderful about this picture. Not sure exactly what it is, but I like it. And bubbles at the end.

And that is that. A small taste of the day for your viewing pleasure or displeasure. These photos are a nice surprise to me but I still probably wont shoot another wedding anytime soon.

Happy Wedding,
Adrienne

It's because they get in your live wells and lay some babies.

2009-06-01T21:49:00.006-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Things I recently discovered I am good at:
-Getting trashy summer jobs.
-Multiplying by 9.
-Getting mosquito bites.
-Mowing the lawn.
-Rubbing up against poisonous plants.
-Wearing Carhartts.
-Creating cool catch phrases like, "I feel like you have a spider on your face. You do."
-Getting mosquito bites.
-Breaking computers.
-Knowing which lakes are contaminated by zebra and quagga mussels.
-Knowing what the .... zebra and quagga mussels are.
-Yelling at people for sneaking past me.
-Dragging lunch out longer than necessary.
-Weeding.
-Having left foot swell up to the size of a loaf of bread.
-Refusing to go to the doctor.
-Making people think I am a nice person.
-Making people think I am in charge of the world. Or at least the lake.
-Sweeping flies.(these are all flies. all of it.)
-Living Darci's life.
-Getting cobwebs off the ceiling.
-Believing everything I hear.
-Filtering everything that comes out of Bob's mouth.
-Being completely entertained by everything that comes out of Bob's mouth.
-Driving a mule.
-Picking up trash.
-Soda can hunting for the can man.
-Writing the correct date.
-Getting mosquito bites.

I think I've probably been good at these things all along, I've just never known.
Love,
Adrienne

PS Let's track my Chaco tan line week by week, shall we? Ok.WEEK 2: Feet still pale, beginnings of the z-lines starting to form, and Hello Kitty bandage covering spider bite between toes...post-draining.

It's because I deleted it once...

2009-05-15T10:35:00.012-06:00

Adrienne the Gnome.

Dear Patrick,
Okay. Okay. Okay. I swear I didn't look like dead girl at the party. I swear I edited these pictures much better than that. But it won't stop looking like dead girl when I post it and I just really want to post it. Happy mythical 27th, Ryan.

Brandt the Giant.Nicki the Leopard Dinosaur.

Darci the Liger.Matt the Faun.
(his pants MAY have been made out of disfigured teddy bears, which MAY be the best idea in the world)
Ashlee, Whitney and Katie as the Unicorn Club.Alex the Vampire.Julia as Medusa.
Carly the Mystical Nun.Ryan as just some regular guy.
Okay. Okay. Okay. So he didn't know we were dressing up. Please don't hold it against him.

L-O L-O L-O L-O-V-E,
Adrienne

It's because it's normal. It happens all the time, right?

2009-05-11T11:07:00.004-06:00

Dear Patrick,
This morning I woke up, hopped off of my bunk bed and went out my bedroom door. Wait. No. Starting over. This morning I woke up, hopped off of my bunk bed and tried and tried to open my bedroom door. I stuck my fingers under the door and pulled and pulled. I leaned back and put all of my body weight into opening that door and pulled and pulled. No luck. I'm still inside. Still inside with no roommates around. Still inside with nothing better to do than write about it on the world wide web. It's world wide now, did you hear? Anyway, greetings from the inside of my bedroom. I hope to get out soon.
Love,
Adrienne

nataliedee.com

It's because I only got one. One.

2009-05-09T21:04:00.003-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I'm never shooting a wedding again.
Love, Adrienne

It's because Mont said, "Graduate!"

2009-05-01T19:15:00.004-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Tomorrow is the day I've dreaded for a year. The same day that I dreaded four years ago. I don't know what it is about being a junior but every time I am one, my friends go off and graduate. Graduation is a dark day. Graduation is tearing my family apart. Out of all of us, next year we will only be three. Just three. Everyone else is outta here. I hate that. I'm not sure how I'm going to function without them in the studio with me. I'm going to forget to eat dinner without Brandt and his frosty runs. I'm going to be overwhelmed by masculine influences without Nicki. I will have no one to dance badly with to Sufjan Stevens and the Police without Ryan. I'll have to go back to dressing like a girl without Cole. I'm going to be one of a kind and bored because of it without my best friend and lifetwin, Matt. At least I'll always have MacKay and Ashlee. We'll have to have our own family parties next year.
This semester has been full of beginnings and endings. Did I tell you I'm shooting my first wedding? I am. It may be the one and only wedding I shoot but I'm excited and scared to do it. Nick and Camie are the most beautiful couple in the world so it shouldn't be hard to get great pictures. This is the one I liked best from their engagements.
Another beginning/ending may come as a shock to some... I'm dropping out of the photo program. This semester I've realized how little I belong there and how much I belong in printmaking. I don't want to snap pictures for the rest of my life. I want to print. I want to make little babies like this for the rest of forever:
This is a cell phone picture of my self portrait. I made it in one long continuous day that was this week. In the crit yesterday my instructor, Kathy said, "I think the reason why your prints are so successful is because you finally dropped photo." Hilarious. I can't wait to only have the good candy-giving grandma major and not have to deal with the bad stepsister major anymore.
I'm moving again. I can't believe where this semester has gone. I can't believe I only met most of the people in my house just four months ago. I can't believe I'm moving to Happy Valley. I'm ready and not ready to go. I love living where I'm living. I love the people I live with. I've never fit as well with strangers as I did with them. But I can't wait to live with Darci and be ridiculous all summer.
This is a weird post. I'll stop now. Here is my favorite picture from the DR.

Love and love and love,
Adrienne

It's because he's a grad student.

2009-04-21T21:23:00.002-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Happy Cole Bybee Day.Love,
Cole Bybee

It's because I just can't listen to this lady anymore.

2009-04-21T11:24:00.005-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I'm finally posting some of the photographs from my Chicago trip. Wish I could go back.

The camera-saving bean.

The funniest store front I've ever seen. What an incredible restoration. Wait...The best book of love poems I've ever read.So I took pictures of almost every page...Gig poster brilliance.Blue caramel apple cider hot pudding anyone?Me. In poster form.

This print mapped out every single word said by the brilliant Miss Teen North Carolina.

Banana Bandits!

American Gothic

Love,
Adrienne

It's because I've got that pasty, pasty skin everyone wants.6

2009-04-14T17:46:00.005-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Full story of the day later. Right now, the most important stuff: Dominican boyfriends! Ha.

Hilarious, yes? The one on the right was particularly friendly. He did absolutely everything he could to try to make me understand what he was saying and then all of a sudden I was in a picture. So I made the guy take one on my camera, too. How was I supposed to pass up something this funny? And then, the vest gave me his email address. Can you say score?
Love, Love, Love,
Adrienne

It's because some people humble themselves, others need to be compelled.

2009-04-13T20:24:00.008-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I think I'm the latter. I'm back in the DR. I love this place. Remember last time how I said that I need to stop being a selfish little baby and start thinking about people other than myself? I forgot that. But here I am, back in that country that started my "good person" ideas and I'm just realizing how quickly I let my stupid, pointless life take over. Let me tell you how great this place is.

So, we arrived in Puerto Rico last night. Checked into the lap of luxury and then checked out again at 7 am. We hopped on a baby plane and headed for the good ol' Dominican Republic. I did my best to outsmart my narcolepsy but it won in the end. That is something that strangers really shouldn't be exposed to. Ask Alex. She'll tell you how weird it is. Look at this baby plane.
So then we arrived and the good Dominican people that are part of 4Life carried our stuff and shuffled us into cars. I got in a car with Eddie. And Duane. (Duane is the film guy from 4Life. He speaks spanish. It's convenient.) Eddie asked Duane what my name was. The conversation went like this:

Eddie: (in Spanish) What's her name?
Duane: Adrienne.
Eddie: Adren? Adren? Aye yi yi! Adren?
Me: Si.

Apparently it's as hard for Dominicans to say my regular name as it is for me to say that boy roommate's Finnish name. So I have a new one. Adrianna. It's fancier than I deserve with this untamed lion's mane on my head. So anyway, we drove to the hotel and I did my best to look comfortable even though he drove on the wrong side of the road most of the time and other times just stopped and parked. In the middle of the road. I was not provided a seatbelt. His windows had wrinkled tinting. It made for pictures like this:

Then we checked back into the lap of luxury, but this time in the DR. Then we got in a big truck and set out for the day's real adventure.

Meet Esdras:
He is a 4Life distributor. One of their favorites. But he drives crazier and faster than even Eddie. And while he's assault-driving and dodging scooters and children and pot holes, he will pick up one of his numerous cell phones and say "Excellent. Excellent. Excellent." I learned to look out the window and focus on the killer scenery all around me instead of look at what's happening on the road. The problem was, his driving produced pictures like this:

There are three on the scooter. And have a big load to carry. Can you tell? Nope. But that's ok. Right? Right. He took us to eat lunch in San Francisco. California. Some other distributors made it for us. It was so nice of them. I'm serious when I say that I was grateful to have it, but I'm also serious when I say that I had no idea what I was eating and pulled out the trick I learned in Switzerland when I had to eat weird food there... don't look at it, just shove it in as quickly as you can. It was mostly good. And so nice of them to make it for us. We got back in that ridiculous truck again and went on to the main event. I considered practicing my tuck-and-roll moves but ended up just staying inside the truck.

This is where the day really got great. Here's the story. So a while back, Hurricane Noel hit the DR. Some people got it worse than others. One village in particular got it extra bad. They live in a very unfortunate part of the island that floods whenever it rains and they have to run up the mountains and hide in caves. Esdras heard about this little village and went to check it out. It was terrible he said. Mud up to your brains. They had to rebuild everything, pretty much. And the thing is, they're already the poorest of the poor. Esdras wanted to help and found one man who really, really needed a new house. With 4Life's help, they built him one. His name is Luis and he looks like this:
He is 86 and crippled. He was so sweet and so thankful that he couldn't even speak. He used to live in this:
Now he will live in this:

The people of this village were so great. They treated us (even me because they didn't know any better) like celebrities. There was one guy there -I doubt he lived in the village, I think he might've been part of the team building the house- who couldn't stop taking pictures of all of us on his cell phone. It was amazing. These people live in the worst conditions. Thirdest of the third world. I couldn't believe I was seeing actual human beings living this way. My heart broke for them. But they were still happy! I honestly can't comprehend this because of the way I was brought up. Yes, I'm a snooty little rich kid. Everyone I know is one too. You might not think so but you also make more than zero dollars a year. And you also have running water, electricity, and a toilet. A real one. Not a hole that you have to share with the rest of the neighborhood. This is when I remembered how lame I was that I forgot that I'm so blessed and I need to use that to help other people. Even if it is just paying fast offerings or volunteering more often. I need to do something. Because I know better. Someone remind me of that when I get so bratty that I can't see past my own nose again. Remind me that some babies grow up like this:

So I should just suck it up and stop complaining. My life is good. Even the stupid parts.

Love,
Snooty little rich kid

It's because I can't get enough airport food.

2009-04-12T20:15:00.004-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Happy Easter, Puerto Rico.

Love, Adrienne

It's because I've been living in a make-believe world

2009-04-02T15:10:00.007-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Life update time.

Two weeks ago I became a full sized adult. I am 21 now and on your 21st birthday you are expected to do a lot of stupid things. So what was I supposed to do? Not live up to that expectation? No. We had to go to Wendover and have the trashiest of all birthday parties. It was honestly the best birthday I've ever had. I love my art family for thinking the world is as funny as I do. If you want the full story, look at our family blog: openfaced.blogspot.com.

Picture of the night:
Another picture:

Quote of the night: "I think that's my daddy... I don't know. All Africans look the same."

We returned to Salt Lake at 4 am smelling like the bottom of an ashtray. And not even caring one bit. Then, I had night after night of all night parties in the print studio. Wednesday, I hopped a plane to go to the great city of Chicago. Loved it. We went for a printmaking conference but mostly it was a hang-out-with-your-best-friends-in-a-neat-city conference. And also a show-Adrienne-all-kinds-of-new-things-and-make-her-even-poorer-than-Wendover-did conference. I'll add some pictures soon. They're great. Bad internet connection right now. Worth the wait though.

I think that catches you up til about today... more information to follow.
Love, Adrienne

It's because I'm just finally getting it.

2009-03-31T11:56:00.002-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I'm in need of a pick-me-up. Maybe you are too.

Love,
Adrienne

It's because sometimes I don't want to pay $4.95 every 15 minutes.

2009-03-30T16:36:00.002-06:00

Dear Patrick,
I owe you some updates. A LOT of big things have been happening lately. However, I'm still the busiest girl so I'm not going to fill you in on everything til later. But right now I'm going to post this paper that Alex and Heather wrote from my point of view. It is the best, most ridiculous, most sincere, most insincere, most hilarious paper ever. Apparently my life was meaningless and boring before I met those two. It's pretty long, but definitely worth it. MacKay cried three times because of it. Enjoy.

It is in uncomfortable and unfamiliar situations that you learn the most about yourself—who you are, where your boundaries lie, and how far you can actually push yourself. When your life seems foreign and terrifying, you find yourself reaching out for support from places you never would have imagined, and growing in ways you never thought possible.

Predictability suites me. I am an elitist at being “ordinary”. If any one of my friends’ mothers were to try and remember me, they wouldn’t be able to. Embarrassingly enough, it would take my friends describing me as “polite and boring” for them to jolt their middle-aged memory. I was always invited to stay for dinner, but never asked to play family volleyball in the backyard after. I was never hurt by this stereotype, it was well deserved and I did nothing to extinguish it. I’ve just never really surprised anyone and in the short twenty years I had lived, nothing had really surprised me. I came from an average Mormon family, in a clean, well taken care of home, a loving Mother and Father that instilled conservative but practical morals in not one, but all of their five children.

I grew up with essentially all the same kids, doing the same things, going to the same classes, eating the same Navajo tacos for lunch, and loving the new flavor of Mountain Dew they’d come out with every so often just like the rest of the kids. I never stood out or in any more than the rest of the crowd (with exception to the brief “extreme” phase of wearing goggle sunglasses every day of ninth grade that I went through). So when it came to what to do after graduating high school, I went with my best friends far, but not too far away to Utah State University. It was no Sandy, Utah but small town Logan would suffice for furthering my ambitious education in both Printmaking and Photography. I have always loved school and have worked hard at making it an important priority in my life, so why not study two majors as a young undergrad? I dove into my schoolwork feet first because according to the Delta College Fitness and Recreation Center, “The safest way to jump into a pool is feet first while facing the pool. Shallow areas are marked no diving. Please ask a lifeguard for the appropriate areas for diving. No backwards entries into the pool will be permitted.”

I was given the opportunity to travel to Switzerland in the summer of 2008 to study photography alongside my comfortable group of friends. We were the “quiet ones” keeping mostly to ourselves and being happy just the way we were. How or why would we want to compete with the “clique six”, a happy-go-lucky group of six loud, annoying, overwhelming, stereotypical American girls that seemed to think that the entire trip revolved around them. They had to be related or telepathic because they were always acting on the same level of obnoxiousness, which made them even harder to tell apart. All except for one. She was often found moving throughout the group alone, different from the rest that we assumed bathed together. She was collected and walked with her head up. She kept to herself, but everyone seemed to prefer her company. We associated her unfairly with the “clique six” because of her ability to relate and get along with anybody, and it wasn’t until she made us think differently that we gave her half a chance. On a regular basis, the “clique six” would bring up the topic of religion at any given situation seeing as three of them were preparing to serve Mormon missions. But this girl whose real name is Alexa would be passing notes of cartoons saying inappropriate things instead. In a heated, but probably insincere conversation they would be having amongst themselves she would be dancing what seemed to be a choreographed dance behind them without any of their knowledge. She was different than them, but different than me. We started a relationship in an unfamiliar way, mostly due to the pressure she put on me to respond to her outlandish behavior and partly because I couldn’t help but be intrigued. The educational trip ended and the wind pushed us daintily away to our lives that we had left a month and some previously.

I don’t recall hearing from or seeing Alexa until the following semester of school started and I spotted her on the other side of the street, hand in hand with one of the other girls from the “clique six”. The other girl waved politely, but Alexa made a terrifying face accompanied by an obscene hand gesture that I’m still too embarrassed to find out what it means. She was unforgettable, but gosh was she abnormal.

Through a sequence of unexplained and unforgettable events following the unexpected death of my Father, the toll that took on my humble family, the loss of friends to opportunities, the marriage of others, financial and health issues, and the aftermath of dealing with picking up and moving forward- I needed to make some changes and since my best friend and roommate had plans to escape to New Zealand, I needed a place to live and something or someone to fill in the hole that was deep and nagging. After going through every step of the scientific method, reading, and begging for a new home, an opportunity arose. A spot in the famous “Boathouse” was available for a limited time offer. The only connection besides visiting themed parties that I had there was Alexa Hall, and for some reason that is beyond everything I knew about myself, I called her.

Since moving in with Alexa I have learned that first impressions, although important, can also be deceiving. While she will tell you in sincerity that her life motto is ‘anything for a laugh’, I now know that the sincerity in her statement is actually the punch line in a long list of ongoing jokes that together make up her outer shell. Alexa’s core shows much more depth than that. She connects easily, understands thoroughly, forgives quickly and loves deeply. And I wouldn’t have found that out unless I had thrown out my first impression of her, taken a risk, and allowed myself to get to know and deeply understand the funny girl who dressed like a boy. I would have assumed the odd member of the “clique six” was just the better version of most of the girls, but I would have never known any of this if I hadn’t placed myself in the situation.

Where I am from, a family moving into the neighborhood is a really big deal. Relief Society mothers and other such members of the Sandy ‘mom network’ want to find out as much as possible about the new neighborhood members. Are they LDS? Do their children play soccer? And most importantly, do they like meatloaf? That is what they are getting for dinner tonight as an offering from the ladies in the ward compassionate service committee. The neighborhood men are also intrigued by new move-ins. They will give up entire days to help move furniture, tidy lawns, or repair and paint walls all for the simple satisfaction of hangin’ out with the neighborhood boys and the promise of a friendly game of ball at the end of the day just when the sun begins to set.

In January 2009, I moved into the Boat House one cold night. There was no meatloaf dinner to welcome me, and no neighborhood moving brigade to carry my bed into my new room. In fact in a house of ten people, there was only one girl home. She was hiding in her room pretending to sleep because she didn’t want to help. Heather pretends to sleep when she doesn’t want to help out, acknowledge the presence of annoying people, or engage in awkward conversations; and I love her for it. By mom-network standards, that kind of behavior is not proper or agreeable. Yet I have learned something very important from Heather. She is inappropriate, ridiculous and outrageous. She will never make meatloaf for the new neighbors, and she won’t marry someone who wants to play ball with the boys. Yet despite her attempt at making the world think less of her she has been the one to hold me when I need it, listen while I talk, talk while I listen and accompany me when I couldn’t face that one boy alone. She is sincere and loving, but doesn’t show it by baking cookies or moving furniture. So, by leaving everything familiar behind and moving to a house filled with outrageous people, I have learned that you don’t have to fit the mold to be good and that sincerity is the only way to show your love for someone—even if it means that you sincerely don’t want to help them move in!

Why does it seem that life would be better if it were perfect? A nice little package tied with red string and placed under a perfectly shaped and decorated Christmas tree sounds really nice—or maybe one of those mints that they place on your carefully turned down bed in really nice hotels. It seems like life should be like that—comfortable, predictable and safe. For the past 5 months my life has been everything but predictable. Death, marriage, love and disappointment have unfairly overtaken my daily thoughts. I have moved apartments, changed my friend group and started eating fruit leather. And in the midst of all this uncertainty, I have learned more about myself and life than the previous twenty and one half years combined. In Anne Lamott’s novel Bird by Bird she states,

I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won't have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren't even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they're doing it.....Perfectionism means that you try desperately not to leave so much mess to clean up. But clutter and mess show us that life is being lived. Clutter is wonderfully fertile ground--you can still discover new treasures under all those piles, clean things up, edit things out, fix things, get a grip. Tidiness suggests that something is as good as it's going to get. Tidiness makes me think of held breath, of suspended animation. (Lamott, p.26)

So what I am saying is this: I was born on March 20, 1988. For the first twenty and a half years of my life I can think of no defining events that separated me from any other middle class Mormon girl growing up in Sandy, Utah. I went to school, got good grades, made good friends, loved my family and accomplished fine things on an ordinary level. Now, I live with a Finnish boy, swear with style and confidence, religiously travel home every other weekend to console my heartbroken mom, cry thoroughly and often, sleep deeply in a ten by seven foot shared room with a dear friend, work all night on campus for my major, and faithfully eat tacos every Taco Tuesday. I find myself in a new place. It is uncomfortable, unpredictable and unappealing. Yet somehow emotion runs deeper here. I laugh harder because I cry harder, and love deeper because of the pangs of eternal sadness that I have now felt. In this place, life is not confined to mediocrity. And as E.E. Cummings states in his poem Parenthesis,

we are for eachother: then

laugh, leaning back in my arms

for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

Best paper ever,
Adrienne

It's because it's your day, Patrick.

2009-03-17T21:03:00.003-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Today I didn't have to go to photo. Instead, we helped Ranger shoot some bookstore propaganda. We were supposed to just walk on the sidewalk with this mannequin. Sadly, we couldn't concentrate long enough for him to get a single serious shot. But within an hour he had created this masterpiece:
Lucky me.
Love, Adrienne
PS It looks as if I might go back for round 2 in the Dominican Republic. So excited.

It's because he was "on call".

2009-03-11T20:40:00.003-06:00

Dear Patrick,
Darci showed me this movie. I can't stop watching it. Watch it. It's made only of brilliance.

Love,
Adrienne

It's because it's toot your own horn day. Bake yourself a cake.

2009-02-27T13:00:00.009-07:00

Dear Patrick,

Dear 12 Flavor Gummis,
Who proofread your package? Because they need to be fired. Your gummy bears taste great though.
Love, Adrienne

I drove to Salt Lake this week to see the great Andrew Bird. Best show I've seen? Probably. Is the man a complete genius? Of course. Am I going to drop out of school, pawn everything I own and follow him around the world? Seriously considering it.

Dear Andrew Bird,
The way you play your violin like a guitar makes me swoon. I would like to have your pro-whistling babies.
Love, Adrienne

In honor of Toot Your Own Horn Day 2009, I must report that last night at our Student Warehouse Show, I might have taken home the gold. Yes, my tiny little happy accident of a print won Best of Show. Hilarious. You might remember seeing this little sucker in a previous post but I'm going to put it back on again because it's just too funny.

Yes, that's correct. That tiny little baby stole that $250 gift card right out from under the noses of the more deserving and more beautiful artwork. Still laughing about this. A special thanks goes to Matt for letting me borrow my print and for providing the frame.

Ok. That's all. It's cold here.
Have a nice day,
Adrienne
PS T shirt sales are now closed. Thank you for your purchases.
PSS I'm not sure why the Andrew Bird movie posted twice but I guess you can't have too much of it.

It's because of Murray.

2009-02-21T18:38:00.004-07:00

Dear Patrick,
I'm in love with this baby. This baby is in love with that balloon. That balloon claims to "Love U". It's a love triangle - you know? Fleetwood Mac situation. Well there was four of them, so more of a love square. But you know, no one gets on.
Love, Adrienne

It's because other people like to be bitter children too.

2009-02-12T23:25:00.005-07:00

Dear Patrick,
Sometimes I do dumb things. Sometimes all of my art family does dumb things with me. Like today we might have stood outside in negative a billion degree weather to sell t shirts to the people of Utah State University. Here is photographic proof. Look at me being a real blogger.

I wasn't planning on designing anything for this sale because I thought I'd leave it to the graphic designers of the family. BUT last night, Nicki asked me to make another girly design so it wasn't completely male dominated. So, because I can't say no to that face, I redrew one of my designs from last semester's final and revised it to include my personal motto in honor of Valentines Day. This is it. (The big bird is saying "Keep your love to yourself" and the little one is just saying a heart).
Nicki wanted everyone to jump. Cole complied. I just kept taking pictures thinking that at some point, the other two would join in. It actually got worse as we went...
I like Nicki's face best in this one.
I don't think MacKay moved at all between those two pictures. I just forgot how to focus my camera.
MacKay? Oh. Right. Laying on the ground. Totally normal.And Matt is flying on the chair. Alright.

The sale today turned out pretty well. I turned into the queen of arrogance towards the end of the day because my design sold out. Yeah sucka, I'm made of magic. We're selling again tomorrow so if any of you kittens out in cyberland want a tshirt so we can go to Chicago and be with other printmaking idiots, let me know!

Love and marriage,
Adrienne

It's because Ms. Katie, I'm a gangsta.

2009-02-11T22:20:00.001-07:00

Dear Patrick,
This is purely for entertainment purposes.
Love, Adrienne

It's because we're in college. We try new things.

2009-02-10T15:08:00.005-07:00

Dear Patrick,
Last night I shot in the studio for the first time. Today I'm faking a cross process with photoshop for the first time. I'm not sure how I feel about the combination of the two just yet, but in an effort to stop sucking at my major, I'm posting real digital work for the first time. It's the same image but different ways to cross process. I keep going back and forth between the two but I think I've decided that I like the duller one better. I also haven't decided if I'm finished with them yet.
Cross your fingers and pray I don't get kissed in my sleep by a girl for the first time,
Adrienne

It's because the Spice Girls are always right.

2009-01-30T11:54:00.007-07:00

Dear Patrick,
Have to write this quick. Supposed to be at work. Anyway, me and Alexa might have gotten sick of sharing a room and needed to divide our space. I started Wednesday night and taped a line down the middle of the room. She didn't think it was fair and taped it again so that I wasn't even allowed to look at the clock. Then I taped it again so that I had full entering and exiting privileges and she had none. Then it got out of hand and we ended up with an X of tape on the floor and tape across our mouths. I got home from school yesterday to find this: (please disregard the blur)
Here is a detail:
She was very thoughtful to include my shelf of books and 100% of my creepy fairy on my side of the room. I also am allowed 6 inches of my bed to sleep on. Why is it again that I moved?
Love, Adrienne

It's because my patron saint is Saint Francis.

2009-01-26T20:00:00.004-07:00

Dear Patrick,
It's 8 o'clock the night before a I have a crit in Print and a five page paper due in English. I have a drawing for Print but nothing on my plate and I have a vague idea for my paper but nothing written down. Things are going great. And since I have so much time and nothing to do, I thought I'd just write pointless things on my blog. It may look like procrastination, but let me assure you, things look different than they really are. Really. Maybe not really.
Anyway, so for the last few months I've basically given up pants. I just don't wear them. (This is actually kind of a lie because it has been so cold lately that I've worn pants like a regular person for a week or two but I still prefer not to). So now that you all have a terrible image of me in my unders in your head, let me clarify. I really like leggings. A lot a lot. Almost like pants, but so much better. Now that you're prepped, this is a great story. On Saturday, Ashlee and I had to go to this little music venue slash soon to be recording studio to paint it so that next month we can hang our art there. We had to paint the wall near a door. A band was setting up to play that night and people were walking in and out a lot. I was up on a ladder wearing regular clothes: A thermal shirt, a hoodie, some boots and yes, leggings. Just regular. Three guys walk past to leave and before the door even shuts, the last one says, "Why is that girl in her underwear?". I didn't hear what he said but Ashlee did and it took a full minute before she could stop laughing long enough to tell me. I loved it. The end.
Also this weekend, I spent two days learning how to do photogravure, which is what happens when my two majors get together and have a baby. It is great. In simple terms, it's putting a photo on a copper plate, etching it, printing it intaglio style and it still looks photographic. This is a bad photobooth version of my completed print:
I'm pretty excited about it and I really like how it turned out. I want to do a lot more of it. I'll keep you updated on my endeavors.
Time to do whatever I'm supposed to do, already.
-Adrienne

It's because there is something about post it notes.

2009-01-12T12:50:00.003-07:00

Dear Patrick,
This is the photo of the day. It is by Jessica Bruah. Love it.
-Adrienne

It's because it's only a preview.

2009-01-08T15:27:00.006-07:00

Dear Patrick,
This year for Christmas I got a new lens and a new house. My new lens opens up to 1.4 and I can't get over it. So, even though it makes your brain do backflips sometimes, I've been testing it out like crazy. My new house is made purely of insanity and little mosaic tiles. My mother keeps telling me I need to document every little detail of the house and I think I agree. This is a little preview. These are far from the finished product (f1.4 probably wasn't the best choice for the sink) but I just needed to show you a bit of the madness that is my house.

This is our range. Yes, there are three burners. There is space for a fourth, but that would just make too much sense.

Ok. That sink is a little bit drunk and a little bit sideways. And the toilet is actually that close to the counter. And those tiles are the only continuous thing throughout the house.

And that is all I'm going to show right now. Maybe one day I'll get over my lazy ways and start showing things I'm actually proud of. Or maybe not.

Lovely lovely,
Adrienne

It's because it is.

2009-01-04T01:47:00.002-07:00

Dear Patrick,
One day in my life I would like to make a stop-motion movie.
Procrastination from TutoxNet on Vimeo.

And there is another one that I found a few days ago that made my head spin but I can't find it now, of course.
Cheers,
Adrienne

It's because I still stay up all night. Still.

2008-12-30T01:23:00.004-07:00

Dear Patrick,
Most of the time I just post photos from my cellphone because I'm lazy.

Sometimes I get hooked on the internet and finding new artists and following their links to more new artists and following their links and on and on til my eyes fall out and my brain is plain oatmeal. With a few raisins.

Today I scanned in some of my photos from my color class this semester. They are bad quality and a little bit strange because my scanner is mediocre and they originally came from film. But I'm posting them anyway so that I get over my fears already. This is part of my mini series that I took of the windows of the little shop where I volunteer. The first is taken with a holga, the rest with my 35mm.
Long live film,
Adrienne