This Saturday, from 5-9pm, join us at Bar Pink for a holiday bar-zaar! Lots of vendors with gifts under $20, and pink cocktails galore!
Man, this one is going to be fun! Join me on Sunday, the 4th from 11-5 at the Sono Holiday Fest and Chili Cook off. Food, beer/wine garden, bands, vendors so you can shop local for your holiday gifts…just good stuff!
Join me Sunday from 11-3pm at The Glaushaus to benefit The Museum School.
1815 Main Street, Suite B, San Diego, CA 92113
It’s going to be great, all the other vendors are awesome plus the MIHO truck will be there. Yeah. Good stuff!
You might think that with all these purses and bags behind me, I would be confident to the point of being unbearable. Cutting into any fabric, attempting anything with a sewing machine with a song in my heart and a spring in my scissor. This unfortunately, is not the case. I actually look to each new challenge as a way to fail miserably. I know that that is no way to be; my hub, who is not afraid of anything but lactose intolerance, reminds me constantly of that fact. But there it is.
That being said, I’m no coward. I do solider on, trying new things, because I’m also easily bored, and fucking up is the lesser of the two evils when choosing between that and punching out the same project over and over.
Enter Chad, an old friend of mine with a hugely intimidating project and the burning (pun to be revealed) desire to have me make it. Crap. Don’t worry….when I say intimidating, I’m talking in.tim.i.dating. Yes. That kind.
He is a firefighter and as such, noticed that when a small child needs to be rescued from a burning building, the solution is to tuck said infant or toddler under the firefighter’s bunker coat and smuggle them from the building. His idea was to implement the use of a large fireproof duffle with a reinforced bottom, complete with an oxygen supply, to place the child in. From there, the fireman would be able to carry the child out safely, or lower them from a window as need be.
This idea was met with enthusiasm from nearly all who heard about it, with the unfortunate exception of anyone who would be able to make the first prototype. After talking to me and being refused, Chad talked to a variety of people who actually knew what they were doing, but all professed to be too busy. Chad came back to me, this time with a one month deadline. He had an entrepreneurial presentation coming up and needed a completed bag to promote the project.
This is the kind of motivation it takes. Chad’s bag could save lives and I knew that this project was more important than me being chickenshit. So I made him one. It’s not perfect, but I’m pretty damn proud of it.
In a few days, Chad will be presenting at TedXFlint (http://www.tedxflint.com/) a local pow wow where the leading thinkers and doers in our area get together to brainstorm, “enlighten, inspire, and act upon ideas worth spreading”. He will be using the bag that he designed (and I finally made) during the presentation., and I could not be prouder of all he has done to bring this about. But I guess, if he can talk me out of my fears, he can do anything, really.
After the surprising success of my Groupon segway trip, I have been buying random activity deal coupons in an attempt to get myself to do things I wouldn’t normally do. Besides the wine tasting and restaurant deals, which were guaranteed to be enjoyable enough, I’ve also scored on Boot Camp and Bar Method classes, plus had a really awesome day on a boat watching blue whales.
On a high from those outings, I purchased one for a speedboat adventure. I’m not super down with the ocean- It’s beautiful, and amazing, and I like playing in it about as far out as the 8-year-olds go on their boogie boards, and I would say I have a healthy respect/fear of it. I had been worried about being out for 4 hours on a sailboat during that whale watching trip and it was totally fine, so I thought speed boating wouldn’t be any problem.
Megan and I headed down to the docks on a clear, fine Saturday. The general gist of the outing is this- two people get in a tiny little speedboat, and we head out into the bay and take a 1.5 hour cruise. The tour guide takes the first boat, and he is supposed to point out things of interest via walkie talkie. We are instructed to travel like ducks in a row, with about 300 feet between each boat. It doesn’t matter if you’ve never driven a speedboat before- as long as you are over 18, you are qualified.
The boats are teeny, and when I get in, my knees come high over the steering wheel. It was sorta awesome, like driving a car at an amusement park but without the track.
Here we are, all clueless and innocent:
I shift from neutral to about 5 miles per hour and we slowly cruise out through the marina. Megan is laughing about the life jacket requirement, and she’s blasting Jay-Z from her Iphone and we are trying to remember words to Little Mermaid songs. Life is good.
We are just barely out of the marina into the bay when the weather takes a turn for the worse. The skies go gray, the wind kicks up- suddenly it’s dark and ominous and her ipod switches to The Cure. Just like Mr. Smith, we too are alone above a raging sea.
(This was taken after the waves died down, so no smart remarks about how calm it looks. Couldn’t take pictures while we were ALMOST DYING)
Big boats- sailboats, cruise ships, obnoxious yachts, kayaks- all these started whizzing towards and around us, creating more waves and freaking us out with their dangerous games of sea-chicken.
Before our tour began, we were told that if we encountered waves, to go at them at a 45 degree angle. So great, all of a sudden I have to do geometry? Math has never been my area of expertise, and I’m expected to do it in a panic. My life literally depends on my ability to correctly judge angles. Awesome.
Now the sky is gray, the waves are big, and our tiny boat is catching serious air and slamming down HARD. The nose of the boat comes up way too high several times, causing us to shriek with each extreme up and down.
At this point, Megan is freaking out, and yells at me, “I don’t like this. I mean it, Stef. Go back! Get me back to the docks!” which of course, is not really possible. For a split second, I contemplate the logistics of jumping out and swimming to shore, but the idea of losing my purse and, more importantly, remembering that I don’t really know how to swim, keeps me from doing a panic-bail. Megan is still panicking hard tho, but her extreme fear somehow steadies me, and although I’m white-knuckling the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping me in the boat, I find a sense of calm and purpose and successfully get us over that first terrifying rough patch.
Us, after that first fight with the waves:
Soon after, we make it to a pier area that is covered in adorable, frolicking sea lions. It is almost as if they are saying, “Hey good job on not dying- enjoy the show we are putting on, and good luck with that whole ‘not dying thing’ at any point in the next 90 minutes.” Thanks, guys.
While we encountered more scary waves during the remainder of the tour, at a certain point I realized we were unlikely to fly out, or flip over, and I was finally able to relax a bit. We had some issues with the boaters in front of us; for some reason they were driving really, really slow, which meant we had to go slow, and it felt like we could have navigated the waves better if we went faster. For the most part, we cruised along at a medium speed. Our favorite parts were when the whole tour would slow down to about 5 miles per hour, to either let other boats go by or to check out the Midway or Coronado Bridge or one of the other sites. That was very relaxing and during those moments I could understand why people like boats.
The sun peaked out for a few minutes, and the reassurance that the blue skies brought me made me realize that the day would have been totally different if we had nicer weather. I would have just felt safer and more at ease if the sky and sun had cooperated!
After finally getting safely back to the marina and sharing our terror with the other members of the caravan, none of whom were the least bit rattled and all seemed to have had the BEST time, we also realized two other things that could have made the outing different. For one, neither of us have boating experience. If we had, we would have instinctively known that everything was normal and that each big wave was not a sign of imminent death. Also, all the other boaters were couples, so the ladies were treated to that inherent dude cockiness that would assure them that everything was fine, and it was handled, and they should just calm their silly little lady minds.
While I didn’t have the confidence to assure Megan that everything was indeed fine, I was pleased to find out that in the face of danger, I can remain calm and get me and my friend out of trouble. I literally navigated us through choppy waters, and knowing I have it in me is pretty awesome, and definitely worth the price of that Groupon.
The blinking cursor and the otherwise blank white page. When you have writer’s block, these things are not your friend. The cursor, with its coy little wink, mocking you and your unwilling yet stubborn silence, the clear page yawning dramatically in your frustrated face.
At least I have a medical excuse for this block, and I am now beginning to overcome it. It’s a long boring story, but let’s just say that in an attempt to tame the very mood swings and snarkiness that define me to most people, I was mildly over-medicated for a few months. This unfortunate condition left me unable to conjure a decent Facebook status and rendered me absolutely useless as a comedic partner to Stef on my summer trip to California this year. While I was able to identify the humor of other people, I have been completely devoid of producing any of my own. My mode of communication has been boring sentences, half hearted laughter and a benign smile. I’ve become the kind of person I would want to kick -at least roll my eyes about, if I noticed me at all.
You know how the medicine commercials go. One great result you might achieve, then a litany of possible disasters ranging from elephantitus to republicanism. “You may experience the urge to skin children or eat roofing nails”. “If you have a desire to listen to Matchbox 20 that lasts 4 or more hours, call your physician.” “If you experience pain, numbness or blackening of your limbs discontinue use immediately”.
They just do not tell you that your medicine may cause you to become boring, or inhibit your ability to complain with any decent sense of sarcasm. If they did, would I have traded my cagey wit for less irritability during Aunt Flo’s visit? The answer, my sweet friends, is “no”. I kicked that shit to the curb, (after I asked my docs permission of course, cuz I was still a weasley little wimpy pants at the time) and am not looking back.
All that to say…I’m back again. Take that, you stupid cursor. I saw you and raised you some 350 words, you bullying little monkey. All it took was some healthy rebellion, the very thing I was taking the medicine for in the first place.
Just finished the final touches for my Halloween costume- Dr. Amelia Cornwald, Code Name: The Unicorn
Amy Kate and I went to Blogher a few weeks ago. As far as that went- whatever. When you go to a convention with no real goals or game plan, it’s not a surprise when your day consists of being first in line at each food break.
So because of our lack of planning, we spent the bulk of the day at the Expo floor where companies such as Glad and Dr. Scholls give out samples with the hope that you will blog about them favorably to your millions, or in our case, dozens, of readers.
As we go to the Expo area, I tell Amy, “Look, let’s not be those assholes who go ballistic over free Tide samples, ok?” to which she replies, “Of course. It’s not like we are on Oprah’s Favorite Things, come on.” We snort and laugh, so above it all, thinking of those sheltered moms who never get out of their houses, for whom something like this would be the highlight of their year.
We walked in to that room all cynical and too-cool and totally OVER IT before it began.
Within an hour, I had caught the “this is free?!” spirit so hard that I went absolutely ape shit over a roll of free packing tape at the 3M booth. It looked something like this.
Pathetic.
I have been wanting to do the old “turn a picture frame into a jewelry display device” for quite some time. Whenever I’m browsing craft sites and see the tutorials and final products, I always think it’s a great and pretty idea for organizing your jewelry. Until yesterday, all my necklaces were either on my nightstand, on the floor kicked half under the bed, or in twisted clumps in my jewelry box. Periodically I’d stumble across a ring and think “hey, I forgot about this!” but then I’d be daunted by the prospect of unraveling it from whatever necklace that was choking it and give up.
So, Aaron Brothers had an amazing “buy one, get one for a penny” sale on picture frames and I decided it was time to get it together. I looked up instructions from various craft sites and turns out there are a bazillion different ways to make one, so I took ideas I liked and came up with the following.
Buy frames, remove glass. Ok, easy. I bought some foam board from Michaels and cut it the same size as the cardboard backing from the frame. Then, I wrapped the foam board in fabric I like, something simple enough to still showcase the jewelry while still being bold enough to function as a decoration for my room. I used a basic “wrap a present, tape it shut” technique to get my fabric on the board. No one will see the back, so don’t stress. Some people like to put batting on their foam board, but laziness kept me from trying that one.
I picked up a roll of chicken wire and wire snippers from Lowes. There might be other places to get wire screens in smaller quantities- it’s pretty hard to work with a big roll because its…well, rolled. It took some serious bending and manipulating to cut it right but once you get the hang, you are golden.
I laid the screen into the frame, then put in my fabric-covered foam board, then put in the backing that came with the frame. I hung them on the wall, and they were ready to go!
The majority of my earrings have hooks rather than posts, so I just hung them from the chicken wire. I used straight sewing pins with nice pearlized ends to display my rings. In the jewelry-making aisle at Joann’s I found these curved pins that were really long, and I hooked those through the chicken wire to stack up my lesser-used rings. I also picked up a necklace chain from that same area of the store and pinned that in at the bottom. The chain was perfect for hanging my few pairs of earrings with backs (just stick the post through one of the chain’s links and then attach the back), and it ended up being great for brooches and pins as well.
After I saw how useful that chain was, I found another and thumbtacked it down the side of my frame and hung all my cute barrettes from there. I love buying barrettes but usually end up throwing them in a bin and therefore, never wearing them, so I thought having them displayed nicely might encourage me to use them more.
Finally, I had hoped to find tiny S-hooks to hang from the chicken wire for my necklaces, but since I came up empty on that, I just used more of the sewing pins and strung them up. That ended up being the economical choice since I already had so many pins left over from the ring-hang action.
So that’s how I did it- like I said, there are a lot of ways to make them, but I’m definitely happy with the final product and have already worn some things that had been sitting in my jewelry box, untouched, for ages. Clearly, I’m pretty pleased with myself right now.
When most people think of a Segway, the phrase “rich douche” most likely springs to mind. I know this, because up until recently I would have thought the same thing.
With the bulk of my fortune tied up in expensive hair care products and Target tank tops, I don’t have enough cash on hand to properly live the life of a Rich Douche. So when I saw the Groupon offering a 2-hour Segway tour for a low low price, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to release my inner Gob Bluth.
I wasn’t going to go on this great adventure alone, however, so I was determined to recruit someone to look like an idiot with me. You’d think people would jump at the chance to look like a tool do something different, but not so much. I found myself trying different approaches like “when would you ever get a chance to be on a segway” (who cares, who’d want to ride one of those) “well, it will be fun, in an ironic sort of way” (but I’m not into irony) “it will make a great story” (like I’d ever tell anyone about it?). I’m not sure what tactic finally worked, or maybe it was just my relentlessness that wore him down, but eventually I got J-Nels to agree to The Grand Rich Douche Adventure.
Day of, we grab our bike helmets (of course helmets are required, just to add an extra dollop of dorkiness to the whole thing) and head out. After a nerve-building Bloody Mary, we walk to the meet-up site and on the way, we pass the tour that was leaving right before ours. And what did we behold but a horrible vision that made me question my ability to go through with it- a white lady wearing khaki capris, a crisp shirt tucked firmly into those belted pants and a helmet with a FAKE MOHAWK (!?!) on it, leading a line of Asian ducklings rocking their Louis Vuitton fanny packs. Hell no. HELL NO! I could not take part in anything that ridiculous! I considering turning and running, money be damned (besides, a Rich Douche would pay for Groupons he’d then let expire, unused) but I had told so many people I was going to do this that I wasn’t about to be shamed by running scared.
First order of business was to do a tutorial with the instructor, a shaggy, bored looking dude named James. He had each of us get on and showed us the basics. While I waited my turn, watching the other guys confidently mount the machine and effortlessly push it forwards and back, a mild panic attack set in. Would this be like the Great Rollerblading Attempt of ’94, from which my friend Barb and I still have both physical and mental scars? Or the time I fell off a mountain bike? Or when I broke my foot by crashing into a tv stand? I had a horrible mental picture of me falling off the Segway into a busy intersection, causing a car to swerve and hit an old lady using a walker, a dog randomly running onto the scene and getting hit by a pedi cab that swerved to avoid the old lady, now on her back like a overturned turtle, people yelling and pointing, me witnessing all the destruction while pinned under the Segway, it’s wheels still spinning, my purse splayed on the concrete, my favorite lip gloss rolling into the gutter…utter (imaginary) chaos!
All this was going through my brain while I practiced in the safe little park area, so by the time we hit the real streets, my anxiety level was off the charts. Happily and unexpectedly, I adapted quickly- each time I moved forward, or slowed down, or went over a curb, I developed a little more confidence and the anxiety quickly turned into sheer delight. By the time we got to the area between the Convention Center and Petco Park, where the pedestrians were sparse and we were able to open up to full speed, I was sure the whole adventure would was going to be more fun than I could have possibly have predicted.
The tour went not only through downtown San Diego, but up into Balboa Park, then across Bankers Hill to the Harbor. We cruised through at least three different spots I’ve never seen before in the 16 years I’ve lived here, which made me think a tour like this would be a super fun way to see a new city some time. Yes, I got disapproving looks from pedestrians, and sure, I felt like an asshole when I navigated my machine through the homeless sleeping on the street, and OF COURSE I hated myself whenever we passed a reflective window and I got a glimpse at how insanely ridiculous I looked, but none of that compared to how just straight up FUN it was. Cruising around on a beautiful day, in a neato city, on a crazy mode of transportation, it was silly and exciting and different and I would gladly do it again. And best of all, with my new love of Segway riding, now I finally have something in common with the rich fucks of the world.
