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I love fads.  They’re fad-ulous.  Fad-tastic.  They’re funny, and eventually classic (but still a little funny).

The Hustle.  Friendship bracelets.  TV dinners.  Break dancing.  And, the fashion fads – beehive hair, feathered bangs, denim jackets, platform shoes … the rebels, the grunge, emo kids.  Alas, now it’s the hipsters taking their place (back) in history.

You know, the one that’s too-cool-for-school, wearing 80s sunglasses and sporting a probably-paid-for-but-don’t-want-you-to-think-it’s-paid-for haircut.  Oh yeah, and don’t forget the PBR in hand and what-the-f*@k-right?-but-I-kind-of-pull-it-off fashion statement.  Yeah, that person.  There’s nothing more I can say about this, eh, style that hasn’t already been said.  I just wanted a reason to post hipster-related stuff that made me laugh.  Because I can’t sleep right now …

Q: How many hipsters does it take to flush a toilet?

A: You can’t touch that toilet – it’s art.

Q: How many hipsters does it take to change a light bulb?

A: It’s such a cool number, you’ve probably never heard of it.

Have you hugged a hipster today??

It’s funny how life works.  It’s funny how society thinks our life should work.  I read a column by Lisa Kogan, where she decided to jump back into childhood by dropping by a Daisy meeting.  (For those without kids or Girl Scout knowledge outside of Thin Mints and Samoas, a Daisy is the first step in Girl Scout-hood.)  It got me thinking, why are we constantly trying to one up – a Daisy isn’t enough?  You have to aim for making it to a Brownie, then a Junior, a Cadette, a Senior … then an Ambassador!?  (No, I did not know all that off the top of my head.)

When I was in elementary school, I went to a Girl Scout meeting (Daisy?  Brownie?  I don’t know!).  It was held at our neighborhood park’s rec center (maybe?) and there were a handful of girls (at least?).  I don’t remember details, but I can’t say I walked away excited and full of camaraderie (or badges, for that matter).  I did make it to a second (or third?) meeting, and that’s when the Troop Leader asked me what size I needed for my uniform.  I replied something along the lines of, “My parents can’t afford to get me a uniform, so I can’t join.”  This, of course, was a total lie, but at that wee single-digit age, I already knew I didn’t want to be uniformed and forced into a group making wire hanger art and selling cookies.

Little did I know that joining groups and climbing the proverbial ladder is what life is all about.  There’s the corporate ladder; the social ladder; the economic ladder; the relationship ladder.  I’m not saying these are all bad, but it sure must make for being a little tiresome.  You make $10/hour, but you want to make $10k.  When you make $10k, you want the job that pays $20k.  You’ve hit that, but now you’re pissed because they just opened a $30k opportunity.  Or, you’re single and you want to be engaged.  Once you’re engaged, it’s a rush to be married.  The ladders are everywhere; we’re a bunch of rats chasing an endless supply of mice.  Not that the hunt isn’t always fun, but … it makes me wonder, are we ever content with our life?

L-Dub had its annual street painting festival this weekend – and it was awesome! I missed it last year, so I definitely didn’t want to miss it this year, especially since it’s in my own hood! It’s local events like this that really give a place character. And it was great to see such a huge crowd downtown! It made me kind of happy that it’s not like that all the time 😉

And, you know I love any event where I can bring out the Big Oly. Here are a few shots I got on Sunday afternoon:

Today, the wonderful Mangopunch sent us a fabulous Valentine’s Day card, and I dare say one-of-a-kind.  As in, hand crafted.  As in art.  Ladies and gents, the lady is talented.  She always sends the most thoughtful things, and regardless of it’s size or material, you know it’s priceless and unique.

Earlier in the day, I starred in awe as my Cubicle Neighbor showed me the cuteness she crafted with her two hands (I don’t want to give it away here as they were gifts, but they were really cute).

These folks do art.  They create something with their two hands.  They go to the store and choose colors and materials, and patterns and supplies.  They take a thought and make it something you can see and touch.  And ultimately, they’ve made a smile.  Behold, the power of the arts – in any form.

I say this as we’re about to enter yet another Hallmark Holiday weekend – Valentine’s Day.  Let the flowers, the candy, the balloons, the teddy bears all roll in.  Watch the frenzy and the sweat drip in the greeting card aisle as one tries to pick the perfect card.  Are we just friends?  Do I really love this person?  Maybe I just like them a lot?  Should I go funny or serious or sappy? There’s nothing wrong with these things, let me say, but it makes me remember just how much I hate Hallmark and how much I love a good handwritten note, or personal mix tape (fine, a playlist will do), or self-made cupcakes.

I’m so jealous of those with talents I lack – pasting, sewing, sticking, threading, cutting.  But, I’m very happy to be on the other end – the receiving end.  If you can’t be an athlete, be an athletic supporter.  That’s my motto.

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August 2020

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