I am listening to the Decemberists and drinking coffee at our square dining room table this birthday morning.
About our table, it neatly fills the width and length of our entire squarish dining room and looks quite stately in a friendly farmhouse sort of way. One winter morning when our alarm went of accidentally (Igor, our 14 lb dog managed to set off a pet proof alarm more than a couple of times) the police showed up at 6 am and did a walk through of our house. As the female officer walked up to the dining room she ooooohed out loud at the table. The table was settled in some incredible backlighting from the infamous tikki/karaoke lounge directly next to hour home. It's girth made it nearly impossible for Jim and I to carry it up the front stoop. If only there had been too long, sheer curtains floating in the air as she passed by them it would have been a complete showcase scene.
Yesterday I somehow ended up in Smash's cutting chair (She is absolutely the best hair stylist I have ever been to. She has a gift with that straight edge. After she did Jim's hair I let her take a stab at hacking off my long locks. She went to work on my head and as I felt my hair being sawed at I saw large chunks of my hair being tossed haphazardly here and there. She whipped the chair around. I gasped. I never thought I would dig my hair that short. She works at Bishops on 28th, a starting point for most young hair stylists. This is where they start to build up a clientele before moving into their own gig. All throughout the experience people kept coming in requesting her services. She built up a client base so fast she is already headed for greener pastures.) for my haircut and color. It being my birthday and all tomorrow I decided to throw 4 colors into my hair. Red, copper, purple and a bit of bleach. You would think ugh but as usual, Smash worked her magic and everyone in the Salon breathed admiration my direction. Wow. Who would have thought that mishmash of coloring would have come out to be anything except some horrendous rainbow? I love Smash. Really.
I didn't really want to work today it being my birdday and all but Kristin's thumb looked truly horrific yesterday and she still isn't in. I think I may be pressing shirts today. I actually enjoy making the shirts. Sometimes I crack up out loud imagining the babies in some of these shirts. I think my favorite thing (other than applying a new design that came out really well) is seeing the pictures of the babies wearing our shirts. The best orders always come from dads who have a feeling that their wives will not let their child leave the house wearing a bad ass mother fucker shirt but they can't help but order it anyway in hopes they can sneak it in or from the women with a sense of humor attending showers and bestowing upon the new mother to be "He Thinks He's My Daddy". Indeed a classic shower gift in my opinion.
Off to make shirts and much more.