A Rant On Behalf of All Books Out There...

So I finally took an hour of "me" time.

I went to a book store.

Books make me incredibly happy and during a week where I'm feeling pretty lousy I thought a book store would be the perfect way to cheer myself up.  I love the way different pages feel, and the way books smell when you open them - ink and paper and, if you're sensitive enough to it, a little bit of love. I believe it takes a lot of love to write a book.  But that's a story for another time.

There are good books and bad books.  Big books and small books.  Books full of facts, books full of maps, books full of wonderfully (sinfully) delicious romance, books about cooking better and losing weight, books about saving money and even books about how to write more books.  It's amazing to me how little in the world I have had the opportunity to read despite my (in my Hubband's opinion) vast supply of books.  

It would seem that book stores are not just for books anymore.  I had been in the book store for less than 60 seconds when I was - pardon the strong use of the word - accosted by a salesperson telling me about the latest technology in books: a digital book.  I won't use a product name because I don't want to incriminate the guilty, but seriously - when did book stores require technology?  Book stores were friendly, safe places where the over-worked, under-appreciated masses could sit in a comfy armchair and read a book, or browse the aisles endlessly without worry of being interrupted by sales people.  I miss that experience.  Unfortunately, as much as I love book stores, my experience has left me feeling far less satisfied than I had hoped.

My closing statement: don't buy digital books.  Buy the real books, with pages - something that doesn't require batteries to enjoy.  In this technology-driven era, why not enjoy one of, in my humble opinion, the last great arts.  Pick up a book.  Read it.  Pass it on and share the love.

A Year in the Life of Peaches

Shh... don't tell Mum!  I hi-jacked her login and password to tell you about ME!  Her number one priority in life.  Me. Me. ME!

I think Mum has told you about me before... I'm an only child (Mum promises not to have any of those awful two-legged things that smell bad and make weird noises that hurt my ears).  I thought since I bring such happiness to Mum and Dad that I should share my charm and good looks with you too.  Maybe you'll love me as much as they do.  I make them laugh all the time.  Sometimes I'm a bit of a brat and I get sent to my pillow (especially when they are eating - why do I always have to go to my pillow when the good stuff is on the sofa?) but for the most part, I try to be a good girl.

I'll admit, I've got a pretty cushy life.  20 minutes on my pillow makes me want to lose my mind. But as soon as Mum and Dad put the plates down (yes, they eat dinner on the sofa every night) I sit like a good girl at the end of the couch waiting to be asked up to cuddle.  Am I spoiled?  Yes, yes I am.  Is it my fault?  Nope; Mum and Dad are SUCH enablers.  Hee hee...  But take a gander at this here "Ode to Me" and tell me if you don't love me too!

Oh, and so you don't need to ask:

1. No, Mum and Dad didn't name me. They were awesome and adopted me from the San Diego Humane Society.  My previous owner named me... pretty appropriately I think!  
2. I'm a Jack Russell/Chihuahua mix.  I'm fiercely protective, sporadically crazy - I have moments of tearing through our house, and I can jump 5' in the air from a standstill.

Thanks for stopping by.  Oh and shhh... don't tell Mum I was here!

Phobia WHAT?

I think I may have mentioned once or twice before that I LOVE my  job.  I get to meet amazing clients, work with amazing vendors, and I have a fabulous boss.  Oh yeah... I am the boss of me.  Is it conceited if I believe in my own fabulousness?!  I'm never sure of that line between confidence and conceit.  :)

So, one of todays' "jobs" was to go check out a venue in Old Town that was hosting an open house.  I was invited by the ever-delightful Kate Capshaw of Resolusean Photography and Events.  We were treated to a delicious glass of sangria, some delightful little amuse bouches (I'm pretty sure that isn't meant to be pluralized) and some lovely mood music provided by a flamenco guitarist.  We shook some hands, met some lovely ladies from the Convention Center and then decided to make our way back to our vehicles.  But... our stomachs got the better of us so we decided to take another hour for ourselves and have lunch together.  Did I mention I have the BEST job in the world?

As is likely typical of all professionals, conversation centered around our work - things we've been working on with REVOweddings, upcoming weddings, previous Bridal Shows, etc.  And then somehow (I honestly don't know how we made the jump in conversation) we started talking about our phobias.  Ridiculous things that make us squirm.  She shared hers, I shared mine.  She upped the ante, and I called her hand.  It was awesome.  While I'm in no position to share her phobias, giggle-inducing as they may be, I am more than willing to share my most irrational fear under the presumption that you won't use it against me.  You won't, right?  Excellent, that's what I thought.  You wouldn't mock me; this information shall forever remain here, safe and sound, in my blog, never to be mentioned again (immortalized forever in cyberspace).

GRASSHOPPERS!!!

Allow me to set the stage.  I'm 24 (totally, like, an adult, like...) walking down the street with a vastly more mature colleague (she's about 45, has three or four kids) who I'm enjoying hanging with in our communal adult-ness (you're getting the sarcasm here, I presume).  I'm strutting down the road, lamenting my fear of grasshoppers to this woman and lo and behold BOOM! - the biggest grasshopper I have ever seen leaps in to my path and lands on my left breast-pocket.  I can picture it's beady eyes, and those little pincer-like feet clawing at my face.  Weird, right?  So I (literally, much to my utter dismay) scream like a dog who's tail has just been stepped on, and go running down the street flailing my arms as though the world is coming to an end.  Not my most adult moment, I'll admit, but the action seemed justified at the time.

I mean seriously... if you saw THIS mere INCHES from your face, wouldn't you run too?  *nodding, knowingly*  Yep! That's what I thought! (I don't even like having these pictures up on the blog... it creeps me out!)

So I'm baring my soul to Kate, sharing this story with a girl who I both respect and admire, and what does this wonderful woman say to me?  Ahem... I'll see if I can get the inflection correct here...

"Are you sure you didn't just imagine it?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."  *big sigh*

Flash forward an hour later.  My mind is sharpened by all of the delicious food I hoovered during lunch (oh yes, food makes me sharper, not dull-minded like you regular mortals) and I'm on high alert for these attack-hoppers that I know are out there to get me.  As I'm pulling in to my driveway I see THE BIGGEST FRIGGIN' BEETLE I'VE EVER SEEN crawling along the front of my house.  "Oh, it's not that big", you say?  I beg to differ - I could see it from the bottom of my driveway and could identify that it's a beetle.  It's well over an inch and a half long.  What, you don't believe me?  Check it... I've got proof!  Either this is the biggest beetle ever (or at least the biggest that this humble *snicker* Canadian has ever seen) or the smallest clovers you've ever seen!

P.S. It fell from the house in to the garden as I tried to take a picture.  I was hoping I could get a picture of it next to the hose mount so you could see how big it is.

So... wanna tell me what your fears are?  I showed you mine... time to show me yours!

Alright, peace out. I gotta get back to my work.  My boss is starting to get naggy!