As a relatively self aware person, I’ve always been aware of how lucky I am to have a mother who has a passion for cooking. Growing up we never had a Chicken Tuesday, or Meatloaf Fridays. Other than Sunday dinners, you could never predict what you would be eating the next night. Although you could assume that it was going to be unique, and delicious! Unfortunately, upon reaching university, and subsequently reaching my own tiny share of a kitchen, I discovered a horrible fact. I didn’t know how to cook ANYTHING. It’s not that I didn’t know how the oven worked, or that I couldn’t read a recipe, but when you’re 18, and living on a student budget, you just don’t go out and spring for a spice rack. Not to mention finding recipes that deal in single servings was difficult. So for that time in my life I mostly lived off of pasta dishes and chicken grilled in my own little George Foreman Grill. In recent months I’ve made more of an effort to pay attention to how some of these miracul
So today I had a client ask me to changed the sky in one of the photos of their house. I can see why, the photos were taken on an overcast day... I was told I only had 15 minutes to make the sky blue. (We charge for photoshopping time...) Considering my time restraints, I feel I did a pretty good job. Here is the copy I fixed up.... Apparently this was 'Too Perfect". I don't know what to say to that other than make my own version for giggles. This is my design.
The second half of my life will be black to the white rind of the old and fading moon. The second half of my life will be water over the cracked floor of these desert years. I will land on my feet this time, knowing at least two languages and who my friends are. I will dress for the occasion, and my hair shall be whatever color I please. Everyone will go on celebrating the old birthday, counting the years as usual, but I will count myself new from this inception, this imprint of my own desire. The second half of my life will be swift, past leaning fenceposts, a gravel shoulder, asphalt tickets, the beckon of open road. The second half of my life will be wide-eyed, fingers shifting through fine sands, arms loose at my sides, wandering feet. There will be new dreams every night, and the drapes will never be closed. I will toss my string of keys into a deep well and old letters into the grate. The second half of my life will be ice breaking up on the river
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