Things I Throw Myself in to...

When I came home from work, the earthquake from this morning had thrown two innocent books, that I had known were perching on the edge of my shelf onto the floor. They sat there on the carpet, mocking me. I took one look at my messy bookshelf that's been plaguing me for weeks and literally rolled up my sleeves.

This is part of an epic undertaking as inspired long ago by Baker at Man Vs. Debt.

It started off as an innocent ploy to get my bookshelf back to his former magazine photo-shoot ready glory, but now everything is more gory than glory....ish

Here's where I started the evening. UGH! What a MESS!

What my workdesk currently looks like at 12:52 am...

Now I think I'm going to figure out some place to sleep....

I am sure that Julia and the Crew are doing much better. Run along and cheer them on!

xo and heavy dreams of books, Amber

Things I Throw Myself in to Thursday

This week, fresh from my Las Vegas/Utah whirlwind
I take heart, throwing myself headlong in to the epic planning of a trip to Hawaii this October. I'm reconnecting with old friends from high school and 'other life'. In that process I get things like this sent to me:

I cannot even wait.

Things I Throw Myself In To Thursday: High Station(ary)

When I first came to Brooklyn, I was already coveting high-ball glasses, Japanese tea sets and square collared dresses, but I had no idea of the wealth of yesteryear that awaited me across that two tiered bridge I'd so readily call home. My blatant pursuit to keep things modern with a 'tinge of vintage' has been well served here on this side of the river. 

My first year here, that first boy-of-my-dreams did me one good. He gave me a handmade card, something I've long discarded for the sentimental karma it was vibing on me, and he gave me this, blank and pure as the mind that designed it:

"I wanted to give you two, because I bought that one and then I thought maybe you'd want to keep it fresh for your card box*.... so I made you another one."

*card-box was something my mother had kept from me my entire life, withholding but also indoctrinating me with this phrase, 'When you are a grown up you can have your own card box. This is mine'. My first order of business upon arriving at Pratt was to pierce my lip but then I immediately grabbed a shoe box and carefully placed the six 99 cent cards I'd selected at the Bodega on Hall Street in its tissue lined void.

I chided the boy at the time, reassuring him that I would have loved him to scrawl upon its blank space, time will always tell. I now appreciate that I didn't have to burn it in a Pantas Hall dorm room trash can on Myrtle Ave. along with an oversized sweatshirt, a matchbook full of concert passes, and volumes of sketches he'd made for a tattoo I luckily never got. OK but that's neither here nor there, let's return to the thing. Afterall, the play's the thing. This single card incited a riot of emotion in me, and thus began my vintage collection of paper love.

Over the last decade I have gleefully thumbed through boxes at estate sales, in  friend's basements, vintage shops on the Bowery and dusty tombs of warehouses to expand this collection of paper. Here are the first few I grabbed off the top. I was going to show you my entire collection. I have roughly 50 cards that I have deemed worthy to enter my stores, but we'll save them for later, and in the meantime,
GADZOOKS!

When it comes to this collection I prefer for things to be whackjob weird. I love this bit copyright 1970 1950 featuring a magical mixer man and his bong water stew. Haha, seriously though, WTF? I love that this is a nod to the acid parties 27 Nadine surely huffed blow at two decades later.

Initially I only collected cards that had been preserved and never actually bestowed upon anyone. Now I relish cards that were given on special days. I thrill at cards that simply ready 'to: mother' or 'your favorite brother, Paul' I think they bring good-good karma into my little Court Street Penthouse.

One such card, totally enjoyable to me is this, which reads,

'Dear LuAnna, I hope you like the dress if you you dont and it dont fit you can give it to Bettie that is if it is to small or some thing love Gramma'

I love the stories that you can imagine coming with them sixty years ago. I have always wanted to see that dress. Was it awful? Beautifully handmade? Did Bettie get it or would LuAnna rather die than see her younger raven-haired half sister don its folds? sigh.

I own my own stamp company and I am lucky to have clients with infinite amounts of talent that they use to design their own brilliant cards. The intricate things they manage to make floor me and my childlike sensibilities. Oddly the thing that impresses me about my vintage collection is how simple it is. Like most in the box, this entire card is just one cotton mesh piece of paper. Somehow and some how it's managed in fairly great condition since 1952.

This card is of course my favorite. It's this style that best inspires me as it's totally Mary Blair and what more could you want in an object you own?

I sometimes marvel at the production budgets for these babies. As a licensing artist I'm hard pressed to find clients that actually want to die-cut a simple paper card. This one is so much better for it! However that talk could just be the face in the center of this flower luring me in. If faced with this little flower girl at your local Woolworths how could you resist?

Sweet.

Sitting smack on top of my vintage *card box were a sampling of the collection of 'Cards to be Given at the Coming of Age 12' Apparently there is no greater thing that can happen to you in 1955. Turning twelve is a catalyst.

There are even more of these 'Now you are 12' cards to come. They almost universally picture a cute blonde boy in some way administering to a lovely little girl at the threshold of womanhood. They make me think maybe we're not all growing up so fast after all. ;)

This one really hurt my heart and I thought it would be nice to end today's
show and tell with a somber nod to sympathy.

NOT. <-- I know that the decade of Wayne and Garth is over but I refuse to let it go...
This draw-a-tear painting is a BIRTHDAY card!

Having been working to find a foot hold with American Greetings for the last four years and being told on one occasion that they love my work but that it's just 'too cheery' I have to thank goodness that the person in charge of their Occasions department in 1962 isn't running it today.

So that's the first dip into the *cardbox. What did your mother have that you coveted. What do you have now because of it? Or, can you remember the reason why the year you turned 12 was so HUGE?! Or any other wisdom you wish to impart on me. xoxo
Happy Thursday.

Things I Throw Myself into Thursday

Aka. Why I have not yet found anyone worth marrying.
Many, many moons ago on a fated and muggy evening I fell in love with a curly haired blonde boy as he swayed and jumped in well... synch with a group of obviously lesser men. 

Not many moons later (and I must say much sooner than just about everyone else in the free world) I found room in my heart for another love:

Apparently - and this has been market tested, I have a thing for boys know how to lounge. I spent years trying to figure out what it was these two lingering teenage obsessions had that others lacked. Why these boys? After decades these infatuations still burn brightly while girlish crushes on lesser men (sorry Marky-Mark, my apologizes Keanu) have faded to mere memory. For years I have been sure that it's the quality that they each share, of always having a light in their eye.They're the kind of guys who have a hard time finishing a joke because they are boyishly so excited to have you laugh when they get to the punch line that they can hardly keep it together...I've known that part for a long time. Was that all it was?

Luckily, right place,  right time I was recently reminded of something that gave me deep, deep
joy last Fall: I invite you to grab a spoon and indulge

Then BONUS POINTS I was given this sparkling gem in my current tiara of inner peace. I had previously gone through life totally unaware of its existence. I cringe to think of the hours spent not watching this on loop that I'll never get back. Oh if you're one of my pet peevy people who have trouble wearing your nerd like a badge, make sure you watch this in private. I spontaneously clapped in delight three times.


So here's where this all comes together in a one-two punch. I've just let go of my third 'maybe' boyfriend of the summer. When asked why I felt the need to clean house, I couldn't quite put my finger on it. PHD Jake was handsome, and nice, and he smelled as men should smell -- like they are masking the scent of a recently exercised stallion by rubbing up against the bark of a mossy tree surrounded by wild flowers... but there was something missing. BAM! Thanks to the History of Rap and this perfect storm of sexy boyish cute and important music from my youth, I can now elaborate on what the boys who have names that start with J have that others do not! Hmm... oddly, PHD Jake was not in this club... This History of Rap could have easily sucked. Right? Right?! LBH, It could have blown.

When I watch it I am impressed by two things. First of all I'm floored at how damn fine Jimmy Fallon is looking in a suit these days much time this must have taken in the practice room. These are two men that could have easily been sidelined in the process of pulling this together by their busy schedules, egos or fear of embarrassment. Memorizing this, collaborating, blocking it, getting it perfectly aligned to go Live took WORK. Lots of it. As all worthwhile things do.

Secondly, in the actual execution of the whole thing you can tell how much fun they are having. They are loving this. This is where they want to be and what they want to be doing. Watching it makes you, the viewer feel great. They don't care if it might get bombed, they don't care if youtube doesn't love it with viral violence, or if their friends think they are total nerds. They have charm and charisma because in addition to their boyish grins, they are willing to OWN it.

There is a serious lack of people out there willing to fulfill even one of these two firstly and secondlys. Sometimes even my favorite people peeve me out cloaking themselves in a fear based 'don't get too excited' mask of indifference. For example, a good friend of mine recently rolled her eyes and explained that her friends were MAKING her go to watch a Ghost Busters' marathon in Central Park. Um.. I did that once. It was THE BEST!

Please. Don't act like you're not invested in something when you are. If you're doing something optional you truly don't want to do, stop. If that's not the case, fix your face. Throw yourself in with passion. You'll be happier. The people around you will be happier. If you're acting less than invested in like I dunno... something you love like cough, cough, your ART - your enthusiasm will make it sing louder and help people embrace it readily. Your audience won't need you to tell them you love it, they'll just be able to tell that it has that extra hard work + enthusiasum-y something JT+JF special when they look at it. Try not to make excuses. I really believe if you want to do something badly enough you do it. So, do it. Work hard and work with passion.


I'm naturally drawn to people who have an energy and spirit that resonates. I'm thinking I'm not alone in this. Remember, everything in life is just a white picket fence that needs to be whitewashed. Be Tom Sawyer.

Sidenote: In the five years since I started She Sure is Sketchy I've had a handful of men contact me to ask me out. If that's the reason you read my girly nothings, Hi, there ;). Embrace this blog post, it's giving you a major edge. I am currently accepting Fall 2011 applications.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a video to watch 30x.