Creative process

I want to make beautiful things. Lots of them. I want to sew my own clothes that I screen printed and the fabric was bought from organic sheep farmers, I want to knit all of my own scarves, I want to tie-dye everything I own because I love tie-dye, I want to print postcards for everybody I know, I want to fill my days with projects.

I’m overwhelmed* by the amount of ideas I have right now. Ideas for Lilla Barn, ideas for my website, ideas for my blog, ideas for gifts, and ideas for fun beautiful things I want to make.

I want instant gratification. I want to do all of this tomorrow. I want to be surrounded by everything that I made. And I want it to be now.

But I’m going to be patient. The best work I’ve done has taken time. And love. I made lists today of everything I want to do. I’m going to look at those lists tomorrow (after I relax tonight by watching the old version of ‘Pride and Prejudice’). Then I’m going to focus on the ideas that I can’t stop thinking about.

*I guess in the whole scheme of things, this is a pretty awesome problem to have.

Hunger no more

Let’s recap. I ate at 8:00 AM this morning. It was a breakfast packed with powerful proteins. It was also a little weird.

It is now 11:34 AM. I’m not hungry. Say what! I know. I don’t even want the amazing whole wheat raspberry ricotta scone I packed for a pre-pilates snack. This would call for a happy dance, but I’m at work and they already think I’m weird enough.

Giant purple protein eater

First of all, I'm wearing red pants today. Which means I'm feeling sassy.

Second, I put in an egg in my oatmeal this morning.(Kind of like this.) Not gonna lie, it was a little weird. But I added peanut butter (and brown sugar), which was the best decision of the day so far (after the red pants). So, I'm kind of a protein monster right now (not because of the sugar). Seriously, try and stop me.

Chubster size

My day has consisted of taking a four-hour nap, eating leftover pizza and drinking coffee (the only things I've gotten off the couch for ... besides the bathroom, duh, gross), and designing for Lilla Barn (family etsy store) while Pride and Prejudice (Colin Firth version ... the only version) played in the background. It's still playing as I type this. Colin Firth is a babe. Babe.

We need tags for clothing for Lilla Barn - here is what I've come up with:

More swedish!

I created a logo for a new etsy shop that my sister, mom and I will be making stuff for. I think it's bomb-diggity. (Lilla Barn is little child in Swedish.)

I sent the logo to my mom and sister, they liked it. They thought it was bomb-diggity, too. My mom said maybe we can throw in some blue and/or gold sometimes ... you know, to make it more Swedish-like. There's nothing bad about going more Swedish, so I've updated the logo:

Swearing on boots

After driving to and from Chicago with family last week, I left a pair of super cute boots in my mom's car. I won't get them back for another week, and my mom has already worn them once. To insure that she treats my boots right, I'm going to make her repeat this:

I, Mama Anne, do solemnly swear to respect, love and cherish these cute boots until I give them back to my awesome daughter, Liv. Because I have to give them back. I cannot keep them. I promise to return them.

While they are in my possession, I promise to never wear them in snow (and if snow should unexpectedly fall, I promise to wrap plastic bags around my feet) and keep them away from any sort of mud/paint/snot/dirty fingers/coffee/raspberries/little children/playgrounds/cats/monkeys/grease/hairspray/etc.

I will wear them proudly and stylishly, and pretend I'm on the cover of Vogue and strike a pose whenever someone looks at them. They'll think I'm uber-cool.

Design

Dudes. I just finished the first design for my niece's birth announcement. I feel super awesome right now. Design high! I feel like I could cook the perfect granola bars (seriously, I haven't gotten them quite right),  put together anything from IKEA without messing it up, or jump at least 2 feet vertically (this white girl can't jump). A peak:

Competition

My sisters started blogging. And they're funny. And witty. But it's not fair. They have secret weapons. They have an endless supply of stories about a child barfing in their face in the middle of the night, pictures of little babies that make you want to vom they're so cute, and they can talk about all the flatulence they had when they were pregnant (sorry, a little heavy on bodily functions ...) .

I don't have kids (or a pregnancy). But I do have stories about baking Kringla that was so gross my mom tried it and spit it out (it's a conspiracy ... I still maintain she didn't give me the right recipe), coworkers kicking the exercise ball I sit on at work in hopes that I fall off, and even stories about having a dance party for one while doing dishes and pretending that I'm in the middle of a circle of people who are all cheering because of my sweet, sweet moves.

So, yea. You guys have those stories to look forward to ...

Buns in the oven

So today I overheard a coworker talking to her child on the phone -- it was really sweet. She called her little girl 'peanut' in an uber makes-you-want-to-puke-because-it's-so-cute endearing voice. When she got off the phone the other women around her told her that the nickname was so cute (she had used this nickname for her little girl since she was pregnant), she also said she'll sometimes call her daughter 'monkey' - which made the other women giggle with child-nickname envy.

Now, I don't have a baby, nor am I currently pregnant (the world isn't ready for crazy Liv babies) but when my sister was pregnant with my niece, we didn't call her 'peanut'...or 'monkey'...no, we called that little bun-in-her-oven 'BB'. "What does BB stand for Liv?' You might ask. I'll tell you what it stands for. 'Baby Burrito'. That's what it stands for. My sister craved burritos for days upon days straight...so, naturally, 'baby burrito' was the logical name here. And yes, even after she craved burritos we still kept calling that beautiful fetus 'BB'. We wouldn't have dreamed of calling the baby 'baby casserole' or 'baby caviar' or even 'baby cheeseburger with pickles and onions'.

Now BB has turned into Gracie...a half-crazed, no-fear, jump off a piano into a vat of piranhas in pink dresses two-year-old who never does anything I tell her to unless I buy her Dora stick-on fingernails....and I love her.

Dentist

Dearest babushkas,

I went to the dentist yesterday.

I'm not ready to talk about it yet.