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.

Zen-ing

So last night I did yoga. I love yoga. (then why don't you marry it? seriously guys, are we 4?). After I do yoga at night I am totally at peace. I'm the zen master......I make zen my biznitch.

I'm so chill that you could probably ask me whatever you wanted and I would say yes.

you: Liv, can I borrow $10,000?

me: Yea, sure, here's my bank account number.

you: Liv, can I loan out your room to a petting zoo and then you would have to sleep with a bunch of nipping/squawking penguins and poo-flinging monkeys?

me: Yes, I love animals

you: I think you should adopt a baby and name it buckethead.

me: Ok, that's a beautiful name.

I also love Rodney Yee. He's a yoga instructor who's uber-calm and totally awesome. But the video I did last night didn't have Rodney Yee in it. Which is sad. Because I like him.

Work it girl

So I drew a picture of how I picture myself when I'm rocking out. (naturally, this is a fairly accurate representation). Please follow the numbers and explanations.

Is that how you spell bustier? My spell check isn't catching it...so I guess that means I'm awesome.

(Does anybody else do this? Picture yourself rocking out while you're working out? Because if you don't, seriously try it...I burned at least 10 more calories because of it...I also almost ran off the treadmill a couple times...luckily my gym is overrun with elderly people...so no cute boys to make a fool of myself in front of...also no cute boys to help me up if I actually were to run off the treadmill........).

I'm getting really sick of my workout music. Any suggestions?

This or that

Approximately three days ago, my BFF Angie (take no offense other BFF's, there's room for all of you in my heart) asked me this deep question:

would you rather own a yard with miniture lawn ornaments (gnomes) or a yard with miniature animals roaming?**

**Yes, you do have to scoop the animals poop...but it's miniature.

How cute would this be to wake up to everyday.

Would you get creeped out by this?