The last of its kind

It burnt out. Done. Gone. Expired. Sizzled itself to luminescence for the last time. Flickered on for a brief second and then died in a fiery snap of filament.

I'm talking about the last regular incandescent light bulb in our apartment. The last of the energy suckers, the last of the proportionally large carbon emission emitters.

We're soon to be an entirely CFL home. CFL? Cheese Filled Lunchboxes? Cherry Flavored Leprechauns? No, no, we're talking Compact Fluorescent Lightbulbs. Sure, they're more expensive than a regular bulb. You can get a 2pack of reg. bulbs for $3 or a 3 pack of CFLs for $12. It's worth the extra coin, folks. Plus, every incandescent swapped out for a CFL saves half a ton of carbon dioxide over the life of the bulb.

One CFL pays for itself in energy savings in 6 months. 6 months! Shell out the $12 for a 3 pack, people! They'll save you money on your electric bill, they're so much less destructive for the planet... and you won't have to change that pesky kitchen ceiling lightbulb for another 7 years. Can you imagine? Just think of it now - no more tiptoed, precarious perching on that stool while it wobbles back and forth with your every breath... I don't know how it gets better than that.

I think the top hat means I can do magic...

... but I'm not entirely convinced. I mean, I didn't see a rabbit in there or anything.

On another note: I delivered my first dog jacket tonight. Excellent. What a feeling - getting paid for doing something that was fun. Now I'm off to a dinner party. What a Sunday! What did you guys do this weekend?

Painted Ladies

OK, so we're practically naked in this one, but it's not indecent. This is the first shot we've gotten back from the photo shoot. The rest are in the mail on disc headed to Kristie's house at the moment. I'm looking forward to getting more so you can really see the paint. It was fantastic. Went from our fingertips to our toes. Very cool. I'll probably post a few more when we get 'em. They'll be "clean", don't worry. ;)

You know what the best part was? Feeling comfortable in my own skin. Comfortable enough to strip down to my knickers, have a practical stranger paint my body and then pose for photos. Crazy. And so much fun. We had a blast. Talk about your liberating experiences. I spent much of my life being very self conscious and it felt amazing to embrace the beauty in my body.

Women everywhere - there is beauty in you. Even the parts that jiggle, the parts you despise, the parts you try your best every day to cover up. The "if only" parts. You know the ones. The ones that make you say, "I'd go to the beach this year if only I didn't feel so ugly in my bathing suit." Trust me, even those parts hold some magic. There was 50 lbs more of me a few years back. I've got the stretch marks to prove it. And you know what? They photographed just fine. Magic. It's there.

Sleep Well, Elliot

He died. The dog passed away about an hour after MT got there. He took a deep breath and exhaled his life right out with the 2 people who loved him petting him. MT said it was really peaceful. Almost like he was holding on until MT got there to say goodbye. The ASPCA hospice folks came the next morning to take his body to cremation. MT said they were great. Animal hospice - what a wonderful concept.

I went to DC as planned and had a great weekend w/Kristie and a girlfriend of ours from college. It was fantastic. I hope to have some of the body painting pics soon. Super hot. Super cool. Super pin-up. They make us look like we should be on the side of a WWII plane.

Pooches, Poori & Paint

MT isn't home right now. He's going through something eerily close to what I went through in August. He's at his ex-g/f's house spending what will be the last evening with the dog they got together a couple years back. He's dying. Inoperable liver cancer. It's bad. He's in and out of consciousness. Tomorrow morning he goes to the ASPCA and they'll hold his little paws as he gets put out of his pain.

He was a shelter dog, an adult dog, one who spent most of his life in a cage. His tail had to be amputated because the cage he lived in was so small his tail rubbed against it no matter how he laid down. He doesn't play much. He's skittish around most people. He had a hard life. The last couple years were great - he had a nice home with nice people who loved him. He went to the park every week. But right now all MT can do is think about how hard his life was and how no matter how much love there is now he can't make things any better.

I feel terrible for MT because I know all too well what it feels like to know that your beloved furry being is dying. It's hard when you're across the country (and the whole thing is a series of LIES) and it's hard when it's all going down in Brooklyn (and the whole thing is all too real). There's nothing MT can do to make the pooch feel better and there's nothing I can do to make MT feel better. Helplessness is a bad, bad feeling.

On another dog note... Duke and I shared some Indian food for dinner. Well, he ate his usual organic, all-natural, no fillers or preservatives super hipster dog food with a little bit of saffron rice mixed in. He spent a good 30 seconds in canine heaven... that's all it took to empty his bowl. I'm so glad he's here with me. Every day he makes me happy. I can't believe I thought he was gone.

On a non-canine note... Saturday morning I'm going to visit Kristie. It's going to be, oh, how you say... friggin awesome. Sunday afternoon we're having a body painting photo shoot extraordinaire. Yep. Body paint. Mmm hmm. I hope the pics turn out cool. If they do, and they're not too risque, I'll post some.

I'm off to bed. I'm going to let Duke keep MT's half of the bed warm until he gets home.

Tailor Made

I had a fitting this morning. Been commissioned to make a jacket. Did all the usual meeting-with-the-client stuff. Took measurements, made notes, discussed fabrics, talked about production schedule, scratched behind the ears, picked up poop... *needle dragging across a record* um, what?

Oh, I forgot - my client is a dog. I'm making a jacket for a dog. I'm getting paid to make a custom jacket for a dog. This has got to be the coolest thing to happen this week.

Before the holidays I went to the wine store to buy a bottle to take to a party and I took Duke with me. It was drizzling rain, so I put his jacket on to keep him dry. I hooked his leash to the dog anchor (lots of places in my 'hood have these little hooks on their storefronts that have special loops designed to lash leashes to - brilliant) and went about my wine-buying business. When I came out, there was a guy petting him and talking to him really sweetly. We got to talking about Duke, turns out the guy has a pit mix who's a little smaller than Duke (more like 25lbs smaller once we saw them together) and he's the same color and everything. Looks kinda like Duke's Mini Me. Anyway, he loved Duke's jacket and asked where I got it... one thing led to another and I gave him my card.

Well, he emailed me earlier this week to order a jacket for his pooch. So, we met up this morning in the park, I got all the measurements and fabric selections I need and the dogs got to play. Awesome stuff. This is going to be a very fun little business for me. Feeling really good about it. MT even made me a logo. I'm getting cards printed up and I'll be launching a website in the next couple months. *big grin*

Get this book. postsecret is a fantastic project that supports a suicide prevention hotline and also serves as an outlet for humor, heartbreak and hope. Frank Warren started it and still runs it. People from all over the world send him anonymous postcards with secrets on them. He started the project at Art-o-matic in DC and it's gone global online. I met him last night at a book signing.

It was one of the coolest things to happen to me yet this year.

Some people say that peering into secrets is narcissistic and self-serving, but I disagree. I choose to see it as a window into humanity, no matter how small or goofy the secret. Sometimes they're funny and nonchalant ("I fart in my cube at work and blame it on the guy next to me.") and sometimes they break your heart and open something up inside of you ("I'm beginning to find... my way." or "I hope my illness is fatal... so I have an excuse to give up."). It's therapy, a comedy show, a chat with a stranger, a talk with a good friend all at once.

Thanks, Frank.

Do you have a favorite postsecret secret or one of your own?

Kristie, I'm bringing your book down in a week and a half! :)

Where has my winter gone?

It's January 6th. It's 67 degrees outside and I have all the windows open. WTF? It is not supposed to feel like Spring. It's just not. I'm angry about it. This warm stuff has got me all screwed up. It's messing with my head. I completely missed winter last year. Miami was hot the whole time. No snow, no bundling up, no scarves, no gloves, no hot apple cider walking through the park. None of that. To say that I have been looking forward to this winter is a gross understatement.

Well, it's here and it's certainly not acting like much of a winter.





<< This is what my neighborhood should look like this time of year.




<< And this is what it actually looks like.








I'm off to take Duke to the park. Neither of us will be wearing a jacket. *sigh* Where has my winter gone? Brooklyn should be a wintry paradise right now.