So here's the deal. I left this blog very open at its inception about what direction it would take and I'm very glad I did. While I set off with grandiose ideas to somehow shed light on the mundane and show it for beautiful, I realized that in the process I had started writing drab little pieces about nothing at all. I mean really, where's the meat and potatoes? Where are my citations? Why is this all just a little sass for your day? Frankly, you don't need that from me, you get it everywhere else, and I refuse to add my voice to the din. So here's the deal. I'm making a divergence from this blog. If you want to continue to read updates about the (sometimes) daily hilarity of Josh and I lives as we enter into blissful matrimony 38 days from today, you can do so at:
[Young Married And Out Of Control]
http://ymaooc.blogspot.com/
If you are a meat and potatoes reader and want researched information on scientific breakthroughs, political situations, and pop culture delivered with my signature sass and a works cited page for your personal enrichment, you can start following me at :
[How's that, Heather]
http://howsthatheather.blogspot.com/
I hope to see you all at one of the two sites. Thank you for riding with me while I worked to find my post college voice. I hope you enjoy what's coming for you and if any of you happen to discover the scientific secret to being in love, I'm sorry that I burned this web address for my personal enrichment.
xoxo
Heather
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
The Shoe Selection
This past weekend, my mother and I took our opportunity, with Josh out of town and my father occupied hanging drapes in the basement (they will make it so much more cheerful, like real rooms!) to make tracks to Bay Brook Mall.
After battling our way through the pre-Christmas crowds and finally securing a spot by completing a very impressive back-up-the-row-and-then-put-the-truck-in-backwards-ahead-of-a-young-hip-teenager-in-a-mustang parking maneuver, we made our way into the mall. Our first stop was Macy's, land of excellent discounts and high quality cardholder benefits. Alas, we were assaulted by the noise and bustle on the Macy's shoe department and came up empty with just one pair of silver, sparkly, heels we thought, "might work".
We decided to take our business over to Dillard's, land of fabulous finds with slightly fewer crazy bargain hunters. initially, this too looked like it may be a wash with only one pair of slightly multicolored, silver sparkly heels on the front display, however, as we delved further into the department we were rewarded with several other options. The first pair I tried on didn't do anything impressive. Our sales associate, a large black, gay man wearing a striped sweater, tie, and obviously fake hipster glasses, name Tyrique, gave them only an, "eh." The next pair however was gold (figuratively, the shoes themselves are silver, obviously). As soon as I slipped my feet into the gorgeous metallic leather outer and felt my soles touch the soft cushioned foot pad, I had a good feeling. I stood up, and strode over to the mirror to survey my feet. "DAYUM girl! Even I was looking!" came the commentary from from Tyrique. Bingo.
I looked over to Mom, who gave our secret signal for success (an excitedly bouncy thumbs up, big, open-mouthed smile, and wink) and then coolly instructed me to go walk on the hard floor, since, "You'll have to be able to dance in them all night."
I made the loop and triumphantly amid the deserved stares of appreciation from passersby informed Tyrique that I would take them. "Good Call Honey, his jaw will DROP."
And isn't that really the goal when buying silver high heels, ladies? Just wait until December 28th, Josh, because apparently, these shoes will make you lose your marbles. Tyrique guaranteed it.
After battling our way through the pre-Christmas crowds and finally securing a spot by completing a very impressive back-up-the-row-and-then-put-the-truck-in-backwards-ahead-of-a-young-hip-teenager-in-a-mustang parking maneuver, we made our way into the mall. Our first stop was Macy's, land of excellent discounts and high quality cardholder benefits. Alas, we were assaulted by the noise and bustle on the Macy's shoe department and came up empty with just one pair of silver, sparkly, heels we thought, "might work".
We decided to take our business over to Dillard's, land of fabulous finds with slightly fewer crazy bargain hunters. initially, this too looked like it may be a wash with only one pair of slightly multicolored, silver sparkly heels on the front display, however, as we delved further into the department we were rewarded with several other options. The first pair I tried on didn't do anything impressive. Our sales associate, a large black, gay man wearing a striped sweater, tie, and obviously fake hipster glasses, name Tyrique, gave them only an, "eh." The next pair however was gold (figuratively, the shoes themselves are silver, obviously). As soon as I slipped my feet into the gorgeous metallic leather outer and felt my soles touch the soft cushioned foot pad, I had a good feeling. I stood up, and strode over to the mirror to survey my feet. "DAYUM girl! Even I was looking!" came the commentary from from Tyrique. Bingo.
I looked over to Mom, who gave our secret signal for success (an excitedly bouncy thumbs up, big, open-mouthed smile, and wink) and then coolly instructed me to go walk on the hard floor, since, "You'll have to be able to dance in them all night."
I made the loop and triumphantly amid the deserved stares of appreciation from passersby informed Tyrique that I would take them. "Good Call Honey, his jaw will DROP."
And isn't that really the goal when buying silver high heels, ladies? Just wait until December 28th, Josh, because apparently, these shoes will make you lose your marbles. Tyrique guaranteed it.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
The Pumpkin Progression
I'm a Halloween child. With my birthday falling a mere six days before candy bar d-day, I actually was not aware until elementary school that non-Halloween themed birthday parties were done, much less, that they were acceptable. Excuse me, what kind of party is worth having in which the guests don't dress up like princesses, carve pumpkins, and eat only orange and black candy? If I had enough time I could get in to everything that is wrong with our society from that one sentence (lack of imagination leads to lack of progress, lack of work leads to a degraded moral system which begs for a handout, and lack of clear choices leads to a corrupted system of loopholes, to name a few). Moral of the story, I love Halloween.
As a young padawan, I was trained by my father, a great jedi master of pumpkins, in the methods of carving. My father believes in having a plan, drawing it out, planning effectively for pumpkin thickness and size, and even choosing the perfect pumpkin, the one which calls to you and your art. There is no time limit, only a quality limit. It's getting dark on the driveway? No problem, he installed lights. You're having trouble getting that knife to cut? Here, let me get you one of his specially designated pumpkin carving knives. You cut corners and your product is sub par? I pity the fool. It was with this background that I embarked on creating my orange, perishable, masterpiece for HW2013.
Josh and I assembled our tools on the patio and designated a central pumpkin waste area and carefully crafted our templates.
We then hollowed out the artistic vessels with precision, achieving the perfect thickness to allow for the "pumpkin glow" phenomena.
Finally, we got down to the business of carving.
When all the steps had been completed, there was an air of anticipation and nervousness. You see, the thing is, you never know what the pumpkin will actually look like until you light it up. Many a beautiful daylight pumpkin has fallen short of its intended purpose under the harsh test of candles and absolute darkness. It's sort of like offering a slightly-less-than-virgin sacrifice at a pagan bonfire, candles and darkness do not lie. Josh struck a match, we waited with baited breath. I had to cover my eyes. I heard Josh's gasp as the candles struck and whipped my eyes to the glowing orbs. They were beautiful! exactly as we had envisioned, glowing with the light of one thousand worlds through all of space and time. I'd call them the heart of the TARDIS, but I don't think that does them justice.
As a young padawan, I was trained by my father, a great jedi master of pumpkins, in the methods of carving. My father believes in having a plan, drawing it out, planning effectively for pumpkin thickness and size, and even choosing the perfect pumpkin, the one which calls to you and your art. There is no time limit, only a quality limit. It's getting dark on the driveway? No problem, he installed lights. You're having trouble getting that knife to cut? Here, let me get you one of his specially designated pumpkin carving knives. You cut corners and your product is sub par? I pity the fool. It was with this background that I embarked on creating my orange, perishable, masterpiece for HW2013.
Josh and I assembled our tools on the patio and designated a central pumpkin waste area and carefully crafted our templates.
Beverage, carver, pumpkin, tool storage, waste management site.
We then hollowed out the artistic vessels with precision, achieving the perfect thickness to allow for the "pumpkin glow" phenomena.
Look at that technique! All in the wrist.
Finally, we got down to the business of carving.
Utter concentration
When all the steps had been completed, there was an air of anticipation and nervousness. You see, the thing is, you never know what the pumpkin will actually look like until you light it up. Many a beautiful daylight pumpkin has fallen short of its intended purpose under the harsh test of candles and absolute darkness. It's sort of like offering a slightly-less-than-virgin sacrifice at a pagan bonfire, candles and darkness do not lie. Josh struck a match, we waited with baited breath. I had to cover my eyes. I heard Josh's gasp as the candles struck and whipped my eyes to the glowing orbs. They were beautiful! exactly as we had envisioned, glowing with the light of one thousand worlds through all of space and time. I'd call them the heart of the TARDIS, but I don't think that does them justice.
The doctor is in.
*Note: Josh's is the more professional looking one on the left. Sorry Daddy, I still don't have the gift, but I do have a really great system and you can be proud of that!
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