I get a lot of well-intended and lovingly-given grief about being such a fucking hipster. I take it in stride and I’ll totally make jokes about being a hipster too because how can I not when I have two translations of Anna Karenina on my shelf and had to tell a recent visitor that yes, I have read both of them. It makes me cringe to remember, but c’est la vie. That’s french, you know. But just wait, though, because my obnoxious hipster cred is about to quadruple.
I think the story starts with my brother in law back when we were all in high school, ish. Or right after he graduated, I suppose, since he was in the Marines. He found out about Mindless Self Indulgence from a platoon buddy, converted my best friend into a fan and then they ganged up on me and for whatever stupid reason we just found it hilarious. We even went to a show when they were in town and it was awesome. My best friend & I danced in the middle of the crowd while my BIL stood over us daring anyone to come even remotely near us. No one did.
So when they came back in town, almost ten years later, it felt like a high school reunion. My BIL couldn’t make it this time (he had tickets to the ballet, lawlz) but my bestie and I still managed to have a ball. I was amazed at how many of the lyrics I still remembered, ten years later! We screamed, we jumped, we even drank a little and it was pretty much the best (and only) way to honor my high school years 😉
So sure Sunday is Father’s Day but Saturday, June 14th is a way more important day in my dad’s life. It’s the day he graduates from college, thus completing what turned out to be a 38 year long academic career. David joked that maybe we should check the Guinness book of world records to see how he compared.
I don’t write about my dad basically ever on the blog and mostly it’s out of privacy. I’ve never really shared this space with him so it doesn’t seem fair to talk about him on here. It’s also why I opted for a picture of him when he was younger, as a big-eared kiddo living in a Cuba. Because seriously, those ears. Thank God they skipped my sister and I, but I just know they’ll reappear on at least one of our collective pool of future children.
But in all reality, my dad is my only dad and it only send fair to nod his way on this momentous day. Well done, champ. I’ll be in the stands, rooting for you.
I’m posting this photo first because no matter what the blog topic is, I always get at least two or three comments from family members who read the blog about my hair and how long it’s getting. I think it has something to do with how I always cut it short then grow it out, and the fact that my hair is always in some transition of sorts, but people talk about my hair a lot. It’s not just me (I swear it’s not just me), but usually it’s just my coworkers taking turns asking if I’m doing something different, or if I’ve gotten a haircut recently. But it’s just growing out. It’s getting to an amazing length and I love how straight it is when I use my blow dryer. That what I tell them, whenever a coworkers asks. I’ve recently discovered the magics that are my blowdryer and hairspray. The picture below was included solely because my hair looks like a seashell. Like a nautilus, kind of.
Okay but the actual reason I’m posting these photos is the mother fucking black hoodie. I might have scared my barista when I saw her wearing it. Well not this exact one, I promise. Just one similar. She told me she got it at H&M and best of all, she said she got in only a couple of weeks ago. That’s the best feeling, isn’t it, when you expect someone to be all “Oh I got this like years and years ago in a Goodwill three time zones away”. No, she got it only a few weeks ago. So when I was downtown for a doctor visit, it felt like the perfect after-visit treat for myself. Yay!
It doesn’t disappoint at all and I’ve been reliving the glory days of my high school fashion. And by ‘glory days’ I mean “lazy days” and by “high school fashion” I mean “high school before I understood personal fashion”. Seriously though this is what I was all about–dark wash jeans, goofy shoes, and a black hoodie. I had three or four that I just constantly rotated through, along with my favorite five black tshirts. At one point I went a little crazy and started getting gray shirts too, but that phase was short lived. Even Lyra is part of my high school look! I think she prefers the world of color I’ve started embracing.
I can’t remember what sparked it exactly but I think I was drawing out some random phrase and David laughed and asked if I was an emo hipster hip hop artist, coming up with lyrics. I think you’d probably get that impression with my blog post titles, lol, which means I really hope no one goes back through the titles. I think the really good ones are on the Moose blog, though, so there’s that. We were visiting friends, though, recently and I made us pull over to take some photos. The weather was beautiful and the valley we were in has such a nice, open feel that I miss after being in the city for so long. Also we went pant shopping for David the day before and he was super proud of his red pants. They’re amazing
I was in middle school when I first discovered the amazing genius that is red pants. They’re seriously the bomb and you guys have no friggin’ clue how stoked I was when colorful pants came into fashion because it meant I could find red pants evvvvverywhere. But more importantly, David is now a
card-pant-carrying member of the Red Pants Club. We found them at Target, 50% off, and they were perfect. He’s been wearing them all the time and it’s funny to see how well suited we are for each other in the dumb small things, like loving red pants.
About four years ago, David and I were studying in a coffee shop up in Bellingham. Well, he was studying. I think I was just reading, but I remember I wasn’t actually doing any schoolwork. Maybe I had graduated? Whatever. Point is, David was studying and just in the grumpiest of moods. If you know the guy IRL, you know that he’s a ridiculously mellow person and very good natured, so the fact that he was snappy and short tempered was very out of the norm. I wasn’t sure how to deal with it so I stepped out for some air and I called my mom. We chatted for a bit, I whined about David’s grumpy mood, and then we hung up and I returned to the table. When I slid into my seat I saw that on top of my book was a note. He apologized for being such a “grumble bumble” and the phrase stuck. We still use it whenever one of us is having a rough time, and it’s our easy way of apologizing when we can’t quite rise above our mood to actually apologize.
David’s mom brought back some beautiful fabrics from France and I’ve been (metaphorically) sitting on them, trying to decide what the perfect project would be. It’s a little daunting, isn’t it, to find the perfect project for sentimental materials? Anyway turning it into a grumble bumble pillow felt like a perfect fit, and I love how it turned out. It makes me smile to think about hvaing this pillow down the line, and using it the way Megan Nielsen uses her grumpy cloud pillow*
*So I forgot? Didn’t realize? Didn’t know? How similar our pillows are and while I think I came up with my idea independently, I’m not sure so by all means–she definitely should get the credit for the idea of a grumpy pillow. Also, though, everyone in the world needs a grumpy pillow.