Today at work Robert showed me a sign on the back door to the shop that I had never noticed, even though I had seen it a million times. It is for William J. Burns International Detective Agency. William J Burns was the Director of the Bureau of Investigation, which came before the FBI during the 1920's. He was a former Secret Service agent. Here's the shop door:
The best part is, the metal gromet looking thing to the right of the red sign IS A PEEPHOLE! MYSTERIES!
So Ken Stannard, (my long time summer camp friend and the only person I have ever known that I can actually visualize being a superbly content cruise director) is running across America. He's doing it right now, and it's amazing!
Check out their progress on http://www.nationrun.com and see if they are coming to a town near you! Let them sleep on your floor!
"San Diego, I am coming for you, and I'm going to dance in your ocean."
Introducing the finished product of the first design/print collaboration between Taylor and myself, the 2008 Collectors Night invitations for the Visual Arts Center of Richmond. 1,000 of these were mailed out last week, and frankly I feel proud and rosy cheeked:
Illustration and design: Me Printing, Cutting, folding, rounding, being awesome: Taylor
Also, what if the viscosity of water changed, and it no longer was able to flow through our taps? I had a dream about this, and am now completely pre-occupied. Things change their properties all of the time, WATER DOES. What if this whole system of underground life delivery tubes we had was CLOGGED UP?
I'm sure this has nothing to do with the fact that I've been looking at my father's art lately:
There's this recurring thing that happens, during the time of the month where I absolutely feel the most disgusting, the least attractive, the grossest ever, when my brain chants: "how-can-I-go-out-in-public-everything-fits-me-like-a-burlap-sack..."
It's during that time that I get the most brazen attempts by men. For example, just now, when I was sitting at the front desk and a man walks out of his class and we have this exchange:
Him: Hey girl. Me: *looking up from google reader* Oh, hi! Him: You don't need a jacket? You're not cold? Me: I have a secret space heater back here, I'm fine. Him: Oh, hah! I was gonna say it was because you were so HOT, because DAMN! Me: *Choking and exclamatory* OH! Well! Him: I know, corny. Me: *Throwing hands up* Whatever works!
In the past, this usually only happens at gas station, so I thought that maybe my scent mixed well with diesel or something. I'm going to have to re-examine this issue. I'll keep you posted.