Clone me, please! One Kate is not enough.

The nice thing about having three freelance projects going at one time plus 2 more on the waiting list is that when I am at work at the dayjob, I have something to keep my mind out of where I am and how much I hate it there. Instead, I am completely preoccupied with emailing the client, sending files back and forth for approval and calling Megan on her cell. My pal Megan was kind enough to hook me up with a very easygoing client and she's acting as the account manager. It's fabulous. She does all the talking to the client, negotiates all the fees, draws up the proposals, keeps track of billing and all the dirty work I hate about freelance. I just do the design work, which is time consuming in itself. I want to take Megan and put her on all my clients like that. And who knows, that might be a possibility after she returns from her Hawaii vacation.

Working with friends is like playing make-believe. It's like dressing up like adults and pretending to talk like adults and making important phone calls from the airport before the next meeting like adults, but really we're just kids having fun. We throw words out there like, "Teleconference" and "Production Costs" and "Press Ready Artwork," just because it sounds cooler and more grown-up than "phone call" and "finished stuff." There are parts of the professional world that I can't handle any better than a 5 year old, and I usually avoid those situations. Which is why it is great to have a friend like Megan march right in and take them over for me.

A few months back we decided that by the end of the summer we should start our own design "firm" (another important sounding word) and we'd both quit our jobs and have fun. Then Megan was offered a really sweet full-time gig at another ad agency. I urged her to take the job. It was such a great offer, and she was about to lose her current job. I was a little sad because it sort of put a hold on our plans of working together. I didn't tell Megan that though, because she was so nervous about accepting the mondo job offer and I didn't want to add to her stress.

As fate would have it, she took the job and she hates it. The people in her office are just plain mean. Her stories about these co-workers evoke bad memories of my experiences in sixth grade when I just did not fit in anywhere, no matter how hard I tried. Oh, memories of the catty "in" girls with their big hair and their pierced ears, guarding their precious little cliques with their forked tongues and harsh words, feeding off the insecurities of the wanna-be's whom they deemed unworthy of their friendship. So goes Megan's work days from 9am to 9pm every day. At least the dysfunctional family here at my dayjob likes me (well, with the exception of CEO's Wife). So when she returns from Hawaii, Megan says she will have a whole new agenda--an agenda that does not include sacrificing her Self to fit in with the meanies.

And maybe we'll work together after all. I'm not putting pressure on, certainly not getting my hopes up, but I've put the bug in her ear and she hasn't plucked it out yet. (It's a friendly sort of bug, like a catepillar or a little ladybug--no worries!)

Tonight I draw pirates that glow in the dark for some other friends that I used to work with 2 years ago. It is a fun project but gawdamn these drop-dead deadlines are very, very diffucult for a tired weary sick girl like me. Bring on the weekend already!

Take two of these and call me in the morning.

I won't have pictures from the sleepover for a couple of weeks because the only camera belongs to Megan who is going to be in Hawaii sunning herself through her 30th birthday. But, I can still tell you that it was...

Great Big Fun!

As soon as I arrived I was ordered to change into my jammies. The night started with the "Sex and the City" board game, compliments of Amy who had a super secret prototype of the game because she is cool and works for Urban Outfitters. This was played over copious amounts of white wine, veggies and dip and other finger foods. Our plates and napkins were decorated with My Little Pony and Care Bears. As we played we adorned ourselves and the dog with sticky body jewels that I picked up from the party store. We had so much fun playing and watching SATC that we forgot to order our pizza dinner and started getting antsy and dancey. We threw in a mix cd of Prince, Madonna, the Cure and Depeche Mode, then decided to trek over to Fado in our pajamas and high heels. Don't worry, our pjs were not of the risque variety--our attire included patterns such as Strawberry Shortcake, pretty little flowers and polka dotted doggies.

At this point there had been at least 6 bottles consumed amongst six girls, so the four block walk to Fado was a windy wavy one. When we got there we instantly raided the DJ and requested 80s tunes, exclaiming that it was Kristen's bachelorette party so we better get what we want. Someone said, "who wants a shot?!" and I said, "Meeee!" and we weeble wobbled up to the bar, took our shots in hand, and BLECHK! So-Co straight up, warm. Nasty. I gladly chased that one with a beer.

During our stay at Fado I fell twice, but I swear to you it was not my fault--even though I might have somewhat of a reputation (and a nickname) for falling while dancing ("Crash"). Actually, four of us had repeated falling spells throughout the evening. Luckily, I was not one of the two who toppled down full flights of stairs. I limit my spills to the dance floor, thank you.

We headed back to the house around 1am, this time extremely weebly and wobbly, and Amy herded us on and attempted to stop traffic with a toy whistle. Some boys tried to tag along but Amy whistled them away, "No! *whissttttllleee* No boys!" Rumour has it that one of the girls may or may not have flashed the boys, but I did not bare witness to that event. When I got inside I suddenly realized how tired, hungry and woozy I was, all at once. I demanded that pizza be ordered immediately, but to no avail. It was too late for delivery.

The next thing I remember is waking up in a ball on the couch sometime around 4am to the sound of "The Ring" DVD menu looping over and over, and the sight of 2 bodies strewn on the floor. My head ached, my body shaked, so I got up, got water, got painkillers and passed out again. When everyone woke up around 10am I learned that Megan and Amy had attempted to LIFT me from the couch to carry me upstairs to a proper bed around 2am, but I protested with floppy punches, whimpering and whining, "Ow... ow... ow... leave me alone! Ow... ow... ow..." I don't remember this.

A few of the girls apparently gave a go at the Ouijia Board in the basement (after I passed out) (the first time) and were unable to summon any spirits. It may have been the fact that Jen, who earlier on refused to be a part of any mystical activities, stood over the Ouijia Boarders, taunting the spirits to show up dammit! Perhaps these things are best attempted without the sense-dulling effects of gallons of wine?

No games of "Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board" were played which disappointed me very much. I think that I was looking forward to that the most. Things were so much easier when we were 8. For one, we had our wits about us enough to levitate each other from the floor like good proper pajama partiers. Damned wine.

Unfortunately, those gallons of wine, the shot and the beer caught up with me in a rather dramatic fashion in the morning. While we sat recollecting the events of the night before, I was suddenly overcome with hot flashes. My stomach winced. My skin clammed up. I crawled upstairs and sat on the bathroom floor--the coolest place I could find. Megan, that dear, she came to my aid when I felt completely overcome by heat and sweat and shaking quivering... it was not one of my proudest moments. I am sure I looked like death. Megan saved me with a fan, a bed, and some toast with butter and jelly. The jelly was my idea--I felt like my body was screaming and shaking for some kind of sugar. That and I was so dehydrated that plain toast just caked up in my dry mouth and I couldn't swallow it. After I had my jelly toast the hot flashes subsided and were replaced with cold, wet shivering, whatwith all the patches of cold sweat on my jammies. Once the shaking ceased I napped for a few hours and woke up to breakfast at 1:30pm. French toast, delivered--seriously, is there anything more heavenly than that? Not for me, not at that time. I practically drank the little cup of syrup, as readily as if it was the cure to all hangovers.

I proceeded to recover in a very sad manner for the next 48 hours. All the activity changed the slight cough in my throat to a full-blown cold. So in a way, I am still recovering from last Friday night. And goddammit, I've got so much work to do.

Maggie wants to lick your face.

I've got tales a plenty to tell but no time to tell them right now. In the meantime, Maggie has something important to say.

Weddings and Sleepover Parties

I'm a bridesmaid in my future sister-in-law's wedding party. I designed her Save The Date cards not too long ago (or so it seems), and her Engagement Party invitesand here is the Shower invitation.



I've been trying to keep a theme going here, do you know what it is?

Meanwhile I am feeling better about Wednesday's news. It is starting to feel more real. I spoke to Katrina yesterday and that helped more than I can say. So did her feisty blog post (09/23/04). It helps to know a little bit more about Fear's personality. I can psychoanalyze him now. And as for Poopynannyhead--she's just his annoying little sister who wants to steal his fire, or the fire of anyone brighter than her. Thank you for helping me banish her to her room yesterday Kat, and everyone who commented or emailed.

Tonight! I am excited about tonight. I have been invited to a sleepover. That's right. A real, live, old school sleepover party where everyone sleeps on the floor and they play spooky games (remember "light as a feather, stiff as a board"?), watch scary movies, eat pizza and popcorn and drink wine. Well OK, the wine is not quite "old school" but it IS important since we're 30+. It is going to be So. Much. Fun.

Does anyone have any good suggestions for sleepover activities? I've been trying to remember what we used to do when I was little. Here's a short list of our props for the night:

--A Ouija Board
--Comfy PJs
--High Heels
--Nail Polish
--Scary movies
--Wine
--Pizza
--Popcorn
--S'Mores
--Duran Duran CDs and other 80s brit pop
--Hair twisties and barrettes
--Fake tattoos
--Our IDs (rumor has it that there will be a late night trip to Fado in our jammies)

What are we missing?

Is it too good to be true?

I got an email and a voicemail from my favorite young author yesterday, Katrina Martin Davenport (aka Feisty), announcing very good news. I am almost hesitant to mention it for fear that putting it out there will somehow jinx my luck. But since Kat has already plastered it all over her websites, I might as well chime in on the celebration--

I've been chosen to illustrate Katrina's second children's book, Chanda's House! *pause for applause*

Katrina asked me to submit sketches for her manuscript way back in, oh, May I think? Or was it March? No matter, it feels like excrutiating ages ago. As soon as I read the manuscript I knew I had to illustrate it, or at least try. Kat's writing style is so natural and dear. The story comes from Katrina's childhood which made it even more dear in my eyes. I drew pencil sketches for two full spreads and did two character sketches and sent them to the publisher for consideration. Then I waited. In that waiting time I went from extreme fits of excitement and anticipation, to high anxiety over what might go wrong, to my most recent feelings of resolution and acceptance that it just might not happen--all the while keeping very quiet about it so as to avoid any negative or overly positive influences of outside opinion. Premature congratulations can be as painful as an immediate rejection. (Say that sentence 5 times fast and see if it comes out sounding more like a men's bedroom issue).

And even now, with Katrina's word that I've been accepted, I have taken the news with a grain of salt. I've had deals fall through on me too many times before. Just this week even, with that failed photo shoot. There, there's the anxiety again, like a pinprick. There's my Poopynannyhead inner critic pointing out all the possibilities of failure that I face. "Oh no! It's a risk! A risk! You know what that means. I hate risks. I'm going to do everything in my power to prevent this one."

Snowbird curls up in a ball and rocks to and fro. Poopynannyhead chants louder. Snowbird cups her hands over her ears.

Meanwhile, Katrina's characters have been floating around in my head, beckoning Snowbird to come out and play. She can't hear them with those fingers pressed so tight her cheeks squish together. She can't see them because Poopynannyhead is jumping up and down in front of her, stomping her feet in a tantrum. Will someone please take that horrid child by the pigtails and put her in her place... preferably down for a long, long nap?

Let it be written....

That no one in the world should be required to work past 5pm, nor more than 8 hours per day. All should have the option of having a real life.

That the value of a good employee should be recognized and rewarded on a regular basis.

That fruit flies should be banished from the dwelling places and offices of humans.

That every office must have at least one non-human living creature on the premises. Pests do not count. Dogs, fish, other pets and plants are required for theraputic assistance to workers.

That no working space may have white walls. Color must be infused throughout all rooms and cubicles.

That each employee should be entitled to their own music, and no one else's music may invade the listening space of their fellow employees.

That mean people with unresolved issues from their childhood should be prohibited from holding the position of "Boss."

That artists and other creative persons should be given special consideration with regards to working space, environmental factors and be given a private space of their own in which they can think without interruption.

That hammocks should be mandatory furnishings in every office space; preferably one in each cubicle.

That only good artwork be hung on the walls of any space anywhere. This disqualifies old, faded posters in brass frames, especially those which include "inspirational" messages, often sold by office supply stores.

That there should always be enough pens and pencils to go around.

That vacations should be mandatory, especially for psychobitch workaholics.

That young people who just graduated college be treated with the same respect and dignity as employees in upper management.

That offsite company outings should always include or allow spouses of employees the option of attendance.

That Christmas bonuses are not optional.

That all bank holidays should be observed by everyone; not just banks.

That bitchiness, backstabbing, cockiness, egomania, inconsideration, humiliation, sloppiness, ungratefulness and lewdness or any combination thereof should be grounds for immediate termination without warning.

Anything to add?

Lucky duck? Or just a simply a duck.

Is this the luckiest day of my year? I really don't know. Last week I got hooked up with a photo direction job that was to be held today. The shoot was cancelled (for the second time) due to the client's noncompliance with the studio's payment policies. The client has also failed to sign and return the proposal we sent to them on Thursday ("we" meaning "Hamilton|Creative," husband and wife creative team. I'm the co-founder. Nice to meet you.).

So either I am lucky that it was cancelled because I would not have been paid, or this is not in fact a lucky day at all because it was cancelled and now I have to try and reschedule and get everyone to comply and make happy again. Now I don't even want to do it anymore. It's not worth the mental energy. I can make my digital camera money some other way. But today would have been a perfect day to play hookie from Crazymaking Dayjob because CEO and Mother are away on business. Perhaps this alone is the luckiest part of my day. But they'll be back tomorrow and if I need to reschedule the shoot, being a convincing sick person might be more challenging. (Though I do have a light cough right now...)

And then, perhaps it is my lucky day. Last Friday, on a whim, I sent away for my "Discover Your Soul Purpose" CD. I've been thinking about buying the CD for a while now--like, a year--but ignored my little whispering Snowbird who said, "meditation might be fun!" Meditation sounds dorky and weird, I retorted. So in my cosmic mood I finally gave in, and I received the CD in the mail yesterday. I will have my first chance to listen to it today. "Discover Your Soul Purpose" is a meditation exercise to help me discover exactly what it is that I was put here on earth to do. Drawing, Illustration, those are my skills. But what is my mission? How am I to use my unique skill set and life experiences to benefit not just myself, but the world as a whole? This is what this CD is supposed to help me figure out. I am skeptical but I will approach it with an open mind. If nothing else, it might be relaxing.

I cheated a little--I stuck it in the CD player in the car this morning and listened to the intro. It soon became clear that the car nor my office would be ideal locations to practice meditation. "Remove all distractions, sit in a cozy chair or lay on the floor, close your eyes, uncross your legs and your arms..." Uhh, right. Doesn't work. I might do it at lunch today when I go home to let Maggie out. If I do I will be sure to report any realizations or epiphanies that transpire. Or maybe not. Maybe I'll keep them to myself and Snowbird for a little while. We shall see.

Speaking of Maggie, I have been very deliquent in updating her blog. I haven't been taking as many photos in the past few weeks. I have a few to scan but I've been spending all my usual scanning time taking care of business. Perhaps tomorrow when I am less busy trying to take advantage of the universal party in my astrological house.

And with that, I leave you with this:

The Duck Song

If it looks like a duck and it quacks like a duck
And there's duck-do on your pick-up truck
Buddy you can bet your bottom buck
It ain't no armadillo

My daddy told me long ago
Bout two things every boy should know
One of them was the yellow snow
And the other was armadillos

If it looks like a duck and it quacks like a duck
And there's duck-do on your pick-up truck
Buddy you can bet your bottom buck
It ain't no armadillo

If it ain't got claws and beady little eyes
And armor plate above the thighs
Like a mutant rat in a tank disguise
It ain't no armadillo

If it looks like a duck and it quacks like a duck
And there's duck-do on your pick-up truck
Buddy you can bet your bottom buck
It ain't no armadillo

He said use your ears and use your eyes
No need to over-analyze
If it walks on two legs, swims and flies
It ain't no armadillo

If it looks like a duck and it quacks like a duck
And there's duck-do on your pick-up truck
Buddy you can bet your bottom buck
It ain't no armadillo

My daddy told me long ago
Bout two things every boy should know
One of them was the yellow snow
And the other was armadillos

Everybody!

If it looks like a duck and it quacks like a duck
And there's duck-do on your pick-up truck
Buddy you can bet your bottom buck
It ain't no armadillo

©1992 Flying Stone Music 

When it's time to change you've got to re-a-rRANGE...

Here's the latest gift the Universe has delivered to me:

An easy breezy freelance job where I do some photo direction for a major toy company, scheduled for next Tuesday, which happens to coincide with the Crazymakers' business trip, which makes calling in sick so much easier... And Tuesday just happens to be my "Luckiest Day of the Year," so maybe something smashing will come of my photo shoot. The shoot will be held at one of my old day jobs, the job I first held out of school and where I met Andrew and made some good friends. So I know the photographer well, have worked with him before, extensively with toy photography. Piece a cake. Best part? A nice big chunka change. With this chunka I shall be able to purchase a dreamy digital camera. Please bring on the recommendations. I want something semi-professional, something that takes print quality 8 x 10 pictures if possible. I don't know what megapixels are so I don't know how that equates.

Time to go to photo.net!

The nice funds I receive from my doggie plates will go directly into the "Free me from my dayjob" fund. I need a little safety net, plus money for health insurance and all that.



Then there are the ideas stewing in my head, ideas for children's books and greeting cards and other doggie goodness. I can't seem to get to them fast enough. I need more hours in the day. I need to find a way to make this happen. I am filled with hope--very unlike just a week ago. Change is in the air, and the trees and the bees feel it too. The time is coming for metamorphisis.

You must be my lucky star...

I've decided to take that horoscope of mine and BELIEVE it, like my life depends on it, like the sky is blue and the grass is green (except in the spots where Maggie has peed). Every little buzz I hear, every little whisper in my ear, every email phone call dream and vision that is broadcasted my way between yesterday and September 28th, I shall take seriously; as seriously as a Divine Intervention of the Universe for my little Snowbird should be taken. If there is cosmic energy brewing in my favor, I'll take it readily as a chocolate martini. There you have it.

So has anything happened since yesterday? Well.

1. I received an invitation to a free teleclass on marketing your website in my inbox at 9am this morning. Sounded like a good idea, so I signed up and told a few friends about it too.

2. At noon I received an email from the doggie dessert plate woman, who put a check in the mail for me yesterday. Her email began, "Let's hope this takes off and we can segue into other lines...!"

3. The creative toy designer friend of mine who hooked me up with the doggie dessert plate peeps then sent me an email at 3:15pm with the subject reading, "More work?" And he has asked me to call him ASAP to find out more.

Not bad, huh? Thank you, great big giant Universe! Party on. Keep that great big keg in the sky flowin'.

It's our lucky day, Capricorns!

At last, good news.

Says Astrologer Susan Miller:

"Let's start with the blowout party the universe is throwing, which will benefit you in a big way. Before Jupiter enters Libra, the universe will hold a going-away party for him as he leaves Virgo. The party will be held on September 14, in your ninth house of travel, higher education, legal matters and spiritual thinking.

Keep in mind that these planets have traveled a long way to get to this house, so they won't just come for a day. A new moon sets up two weeks of energy, so the whole second half of the month, from September 14-27, will be special, with your very best days falling in the first week, September 14-21.

Jupiter, Mars, Mercury, the Sun and the new moon will all be in Virgo, a fellow earth sign that will powerfully support your every move. You are about to be flavor of the month, meaning that your ideas, plans and dreams will get a big boost. You will no longer feel as if you are pushing a rock uphill, as you probably have felt lately. Agreements will come more easily now."

BRING IT ON.

Red-eyed Monday

*Yawn*

My brain is TIRED.



But I got a lot done. In fact, I got all but one finished piece done. Considering the circumstances (last minute changes to final artwork, redirection on one piece, and assorted delayed comments and client changes), I'd say that's a success. I worked mighty hard and I am very pleased with the results. I even kinda surprised myself. When I first got the call about this job, my immediate critical reaction was, "Oh, no I can't do that. I don't know how to draw like that, not in that style." But the powerful combination of a decent price and the fun subject matter of dogs, helped me stuff the proverbial sock in the inner critic's mouth. I took a deep breath and said, "Yes, I can do it!" despite the little voices of disapproval. Well thank goodness because this has been a fun project and I am, as I said, pleased with the outcome. And so is my client.



Yay!

**

Of course there are still last minute changes to make, and this means I'll be up late again tonight, relying heavily on a "second wind" to get me through the day and night. I may, however, have to skip puppy kindergarten tonight for this to be possible.

Sorry, Maggie, but you knew this might happen when you helped me get this little job. I'll make it up to you. Promise.

**A certain someone's glamour shots helped me out big time on this one during the "wee" hours of the morning. ;)

It is 2:17 am...

And I have one more poochie painting to go...

And I had a bit of wine earlier tonight, so it is getting very blurry in here...

An Open Letter to The Oprah

Dear Oprah,

Last night I had a dream. I had a dream about you. I dreamt that you came in a big white 16 wheeler, swept me off my feet, and transformed my life. So today I had to visit your site and see just how you are going to do this. For I believe strongly in the powerful messages of dreams, and a dream about Oprah has a power that cannot be reckoned with.

I was born to be a children's book writer and illustrator.

Then Madonna, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Harry Potter came along.

For seven years I have taken day job after day job to make my frazzled ends meet. I have been an overworked designer for a communications agency. I have been a toy designer, laid off twice by the same company. I have been an art director for a manic 21 year old daddy's girl, and right now I am the art director, production house, product designer, marketing director, copywriter and personal assistant to an egomaniac, his mother and his wife. I mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually can NOT handle one more ill-fitting day job. I am wasting precious time, time that could be better spent following my destiny. At times it seems that the harder I try, the harder it becomes. The children's book market is at an all time low with less room for the unpublished and more room for the celebrity with a marketable name or the artist with the big long list of credentials. My laundry list of semi-creative careers does not fit the requirements. This is the only explanation I can find without bursting into frustrated child-artist tears.

I know you can help me. I know you have the power. I saw it in my dream. I woke up wishing it were real. But the puddle of sweat that soaked my pjs reminded me that my life is not so blissful, and that it was time to get up and go to work for the egomaniac, whom I've affectionately named the Crazymaker.

Please, Oprah, please use your magic wand and turn my rotting stinky pumpkin into a mystical carriage that will take me on the road to fulfillment. There are kids waiting to be inspired and I am ready for the job.

Most sincerely,
Kate Hamilton
Illustrator and Writer

***
Sent today to Oprah Winfrey via oprah.com. Come on, give me The Oprah.

On the fridge today...

Ok ok, here's a sneak peak at your future dessert plates--just little snippets of the illos I've done. Can't put the whole things up since they're not in production yet. But you get the idea. There will be washes of color when I get to it. This is different from my usual "book" style, but I've done a lot of inked drawings in the past when working for FAO. It is nice to let a line do all the talking for a change. I love doing watercolors but they are very, very time consuming.

Good news is, I got my deadline extended to allow me to work on these more over the weekend. Oh thank goodness. This will allow me to make them truly kick arse when I'm done.

This is one of those projects that makes me giddy inside when I think about it. And not just because there will be a beagle drawing involved. I just like doing it.

Oh. Mi. Gawd.

Penny has updated her website.
Girlfriend, have you been working hard or what?! Simply stunning. Seriously. You're like, a Real Illustrator and stuff now. You go girl!

Hhhhhhhhhhhmmmm... smell that? Fresh air.

*Inhale*

*Exhale*

*Repeat*

The doggie dessert plate project had me up til 2am last night, and I still didn't get as much done as I'd wished. But what I did get done, I submitted, and I am happy to report that everyone is happy. Including me. It feels so good to draw something and have someone actually like it. I know this sounds simple and I do get compliments for my past illustration work, but it has been a long time since I drew something, submitted it, and it was well received. I draw approximately 15 things a week at the day job, and do you know how many of them are accepted without a total redesign based on the distorted visions of an egomaniac? Zero.

So it felt even better when this client who likes my poochie drawings asked if I minded if he referred some of his other contacts to me. He has been asked "who is your illustrator?" by someone who might need one in the future.

Take that, my innerly critical cheerleading squad! It is time to hang Snowbird's pretty pictures up on the refridgerator. Because we all know that if a drawing is really, really special, that is the best place for it to be. Only the most brilliant art deserves the honor of the fridge.

And really, that would be everything you ever make, to tell the truth.

Ssh! Snowbird speaks!

And when there's no more room on the fridgerator, find some tape and hang it on the wall next to the fridge. Make sure everyone sees it every time they go looking for a snack. Be proud of your art!

Ok. I'll try harder. Sometimes I forget.

MIA

Oh where, oh where have I been? I've been:

1. Working on a kickass freelance project that I mentioned briefly before, drawing illustrations of women and their poochies for a set of dessert plates. They're groovy and I'm having fun, but the deadline is super tight. Two weeks to produce four "camera-ready" illustrations. This means a lot of night owl hours at the drafting table. They're due this Friday.

2. Celebrating my husband's birthday! Mr. Andrew is now 32. His birthday was on Saturday, but since it always falls around Labor Day, it becomes more of a Birthday Weekend Extravaganza.

3. Celebrating Andrew's new job! He put in his two weeks notice on Thursday because he accepted a job offer on Wednesday. So his boss said, "ah, don't bother coming back for those 2 weeks," and Andrew will collect unemployment until September 20th. This means Andrew has a whole 2 extra weeks to do things around the house that have been begging to be done for 2 years. I am hoping that "painting Kate's studio pretty shades of purple and blue" will get checked off the list. But it's a long one.

4. Scheming. I have to leave this day job. I have resigned to the fact that I will not find a perfect Graphic Design job, it is not meant to be. I keep having dreams and have repeatedly stumbled upon clues that teaching might be my destiny day job. I have begun to do research on what I need to do to get certified in PA. Meanwhile, my inner critic has found a few other inner critics laying around looking for something to do so they have all teamed up as a sort of morbid cheerleading squad that chants things like, "Katie, Katie, she's our man, no she can't do it--no one can!" The only way to distract the squad is to take them on the occasional trip to Rite Aid for a cheap tube of lipstick.

5. Obsessing over my tummy. And my hips. And my arms. And my rump. I am just so out of shape. I look in the mirror constantly, and when I can't, I lift my shirt up an inch to check and see if the little jelly rolls are still jiggling down there. They always are. My clothes don't fit right. I need to move up a size. I need to start shopping somewhere where a size 00 bum is not the only acceptable standard. Ann Taylor maybe? I also have to stop trying to fit into the clothes that I do have that don't fit, because they just squeeze my belly out even more so that it resembles a waterballoon stuffed in a mason jar.

6. Taking a break from Maggie photography. I have over 20 boxes stuffed with photos of her from the past 5 months. I have nowhere to put them all. I couldn't possibly fit them all in one album. And it costs over $11 a roll to have them developed. I could have bought a digital camera by now. That will be my next freelance income purchase.

7. Researching some business type stuff, like how to obtain a business license in my county or township, how to open a business checking account and how to update my website from old html tables to much more streamlined CSS pages. CSS makes my head hurt but I know I need to get out of this nested tableness that makes it so hard to update my portfolios and add new content.

8. Planning my future sister-in-law's wedding shower. Making invites, choosing decorations and favors, delegating decorating duties to the other maids. The shower is in October. So is my 3rd wedding anniversary, my mother's birthday, my parents' anniversary, my brother-in-law's anniversary and my best friend's 30th birthday. I need a mini me.

9. Trying to contact Snowbird. I know I haven't been listening enough to her lately, so she's been taking long naps and playing with Maggie when I'm not around. I think I could use some of her wisdom in deciding what to do with my so-called career, and the options I have to make a change. I think the first of her declarations was that I needed to eat more ice cream. Did that--now what? Speak up, my sensitive little inner child.

10. Isn't that enough? Oh wait--I am udpating my blogs, returning long lost emails and tomorrow I have a funeral to attend where I'll see a lot of people that I haven't seen in a long time. All my friends from my old office at Zany Brainy. It sucks that we all can't find time to get together and so this is how we'll catch up on the past year.

Ok, I am exhausted. Done.