PDX

This street is lined with houses of varying hues of pink. First we have the salmon-colored one. Then the cotton candy one. We'll call the third one dusty rose. It's almost as if cotton candy house went first, which either inspired or infuriated the homeowners to the left and right. Regardless, this is no coincidence.

I'm not a licensed hair person. At one point I thought I wanted to become one, but that didn't pan out. Not to go on a rant about Aveda, but having my product sales numbers read out loud to the class wasn't the kind of beauty school for which I thought I'd signed up. Nope. I did sales at The Container Store. Hell, I taught people how to sell at The Container Store. Why the eff would I want to be Aveda's product pushing corporate pawn when all I wanted to do was learn how to cut hair really, really well?

Jed and I are experiencing emotional and sensory overload thanks to this dog.

THIS dog?

I mean, thanks to Charlie. Sorry, Charlie. (hehe, I couldn't resist)

First of all, we apprehensively ride the roller coaster of vet visits (i.e. the bills that accompany them) and pulling chewing gum off of footpads at 6am after the poopie scoopie bag burst while picking up dog bombs during the morning walk.

Both are expected. Neither are fun.

Speaking of fun?! Let's talk about obedience training.

Meet Charlie Browne. The "e" at the end is for femininity. Or something.

For about a month, I've been working with a team of folks on a super sekrit project. Tonight, we are having a coming out party on Strange Love Live. Tune in at 10:00pm PDT to find out more...

For those of you who read yesterday's "famous" post, I hope you understand that I wasn't downplaying others' contributions to The Article. Tooting my own horn (and conversely making fun of myself) is a right I reserve on this here blog.

Keep an eye out for the Sunday edition of The Oregonian! Unless something crazy happens in the business world today, the front page of the Business section should feature a story about my and Jed's soon-to-be-new abode, CyanPDX. We were interviewed for the story, so you know the article will be SO compelling. No photos of us though, which is good because I'm badly in need of root touch-up.

My friend, Ben Friedle (@fart4art), is having his first art show on Wednesday, March 4th. It's a big deal. Here's why: Ben has been painting for years. One of the first paintings he ever did, titled "Ugly Fish", has hung above my and Jed's bed ever since the very beginning of our relationship. When I first saw the little monstrosity I knew this guy had something. But, it's taken like, A DECADE for someone to finally convince him to display his works publicly.

I was called "ye of little faith" for initially refusing to see Blondie in concert on Feb 22nd. From my perspective, Blondie'd had their heyday almost 30 years ago (I mean, this show was officially part of the "Parallel Lines 30th Anniversary Tour") and even though something inside of me said "c'mon, they're a living legend" I didn't want to wreck the pristine-yet-dirty image I had in my mind.

I'm feeling very encouraged health-wise. After wearing the same loose-fitting cowskin boots and driving/bussing everywhere for three weeks, the inflammation in my right heel has subsided significantly and I'm planning to begin walking to work on Monday. Which means I'll be getting the exercise I'd been counting on for the Shiny New You 1/3 Year Challenge. Watch out! The Nyco train is a-rollin' once again!