Image 01

emmanation

You like me! Of course, you probably don't know me very well.

Archive for the ‘aren’t we gorgeous?’ Category

I love my butt and won’t shut up

Tuesday, June 6th, 2017

Yoga is so great, you guys. (The title is from Mary Lambert, Secrets. I don’t usually say what it’s from but I don’t want everyone to think I’m just THAT PROUD of my ass.)

I mean, yoga totally has made my butt better, I think? You’d have to ask Crockett, I guess.

(I actually did ask him a couple of months ago if he saw any difference in me since I started yoga, and he said I was getting ‘denser’ but look the same. Which, sure.)

That’s not the main reason I like it, though. I like it because sometimes, I don’t want to do it but I do it anyway. I like it because it’s taught me a lot of things that resonate, like the concepts of drishti and nivata. (A place to rest your gaze while you’re keeping your balance and a safe place without wind.)

I like it because my teachers know me, and notice when I’m not there.

I like it because sometimes I forget about everything but my hips and shoulders for half an hour, which is sort of a feat.

Also I like it because the clothes are cute as shit.

Ok, fine. I also love my butt.

not throwin’ away my

Thursday, August 18th, 2016

You guys my neighbors are SO LOUD.

It’s like they’re PLAYING and ENJOYING LIFE ALL THE TIME basically.

It’s fine (said grouchily), really. I want people to be happy (said begrudgingly). I love the noise (said bitchily, which is what those first two ones meant too – but you guys knew that.)

Anyway.

We’re going to the mountains tomorrow! For two whole days! This will be the third time we’ve done it this summer, because Colorado makes that shit easy, and right now I’m trying to pack. There’s two approaches to this packing thing, as far as I’m concerned:

  • Prepare to look cute for every eventuality
  • Take one pair of pants and two shirts because that’s what’s going to get worn anyway

I’m torn. Looking cute is key, but also, it’s not like there are any surprises in store. I’m going to go for a long run Saturday morning, so those clothes are in the bag (ha). Crockett is going to pick me up from work, so by default I’ll have whatever I put on tomorrow morning. I could probably get through the whole weekend with the combo of running and work clothes, in a pinch.

Last week I basically wore pajamas on Friday, so that'll be good.

Last week I basically wore pajamas on Friday, so I’ve set an excellent precedent for vacation friendly clothes. Half of this was not allowed by our dress code.

This was a long lead-in to a dumb topic: dress codes at the office. My office technically has one. Our ‘don’t’ list is:

  • Sweatsuits (wut, srsrly. I pay a HUGE amount of attention to what people wear to work, and even our most casual person wouldn’t wear a sweatsuit. Like, matching sweatpants and sweatshirt. That’s what they mean, right? Can you buy those still, even? I feel like the last one I saw was on Amy Pohler in Mean Girls?)
  • Work out clothes (*and* if you were going to say this, WHY BOTHER WITH ‘SWEATSUIT?’)
  • Halter tops or beach wear (mmkay, I’m with ya)

And then we get fun. Also on the don’ts list:

  • Tee shirts
  • Shorts
  • Flip flops (any sandals must have rear straps)
  • Sneakers (only permissible on Fridays)

While this is a perfectly reasonable and respectable line for a company to draw, this is Boulder county. There was audible chuckling when this showed up in everyone’s inbox. My row, specifically, is full of mathematicians and I think half of them don’t own shoes that aren’t flip flops or sneakers, and tee shirts are locked in daily wear.

I was wearing cute dress shorts and open back sandals on that day, in case you were wondering. Rebel.

The thing is, no one seems to be enforcing this. Like, bosses don’t care. HR doesn’t care. Only the person who wrote the email cared? And that person might be somewhere that isn’t Boulder county? I think that person might actually be in California … and they clearly don’t know how cool my office is. V cool, is the answer to that.

If I was going to write a dress code email that no one was going to abide by, I would have made it more interesting. Like …

  • If wearing pants fancier than jeans, must have either established a pattern of non jeans wearing (2+ times/week) or must be able to provide written proof of client meeting onsite (exception for interviews, in that case creating a fake client is not only permissible but encouraged)
  • No boring socks if they’re going to be visible at any point (literally just for my entertainment)
  • No repeated wears of any non-jean/non-shoe item of clothing in any two week period (same)
  • The company will provide an anonymous voting system in which you can post prospective outfits, but if you get more than 5 thumbs up you *must* wear it within a week
  • Price and source of shoes and jewelry must be provided on request at any time
  • Going barefoot to the printer if your shoes are under your desk is totally fine
  • If two people wear the same shirt accidentally, they must switch desks for the day
  • On Fridays where the projected high temp is >90, everyone must wear either shorts, a tank top, or a goofy hat

I dunno, guys. I’ve thought it was Friday all day today. Hit me with your super fun dress code rules and don’t judge me for rambling, k? K. Love.

 

my future’s so bright

Wednesday, May 6th, 2015

Thing A: When I started this new job, the one I super like, the person I replaced was a small, dark haired woman who left to go write books. Since I am a small, dark haired woman who enjoys putting pen to paper (and using douchey sounding cliches, apparently), people actually called me her name a few times when I first started.

(Ok, their confusion was likely a hair/size thing, not a writing thing, because I didn’t really talk about that. Not that I don’t want you reading this, dear coworkers! (Just kidding, I super don’t. Leave, please.))

Anyway, she’s back and I dig her and I’m wondering how much of it is just plain self absorption on my part. (I like me. I know, I’m subtle about it.) She’s a cat person, though, so obviously there are some key differences.

Thing B: I hung a vinyl bull skull decal in my loft this afternoon. I was going for super tough, but then they ruined it by including vinyl rose decals too. Like I WASN’T going to make the bull skeleton wear a rose, right? What kind of willpower do they think they’re dealing with here?

Thing C: A girlfriend of mine and I decided to go full paleo for a month, and support each other through it. She’s trying to be healthy, I’m mostly focused on going to Mexico in a month and feeling awesome in one of the seven swimsuits that I found while I was going through my drawers to try to justify buying a swimsuit for the trip. (Is there a sensible justification? Nope. SEVEN. But I might get a new one anyway.)

It’s terrible. I actually took it lightly when we made the call, because I thought I was eating pretty close to paleo already, but I have been cranky and headachey and achey and I’m sure a real joy to be around since about six hours in.

I realized I eat a lot of chocolate in the morning. And the afternoon. And after dinner, also. Plus, Grape Nuts. And french bread.

Do you think Grape Nuts spread in melted chocolate on french bread would be, like, at all good? I’m asking for a friend.

exerting control like a motherfucker

Thursday, October 9th, 2014

I used SketchUp (awesome that it’s free but it makes me feel like a very old person because it does what I want it to do about one time out of every three and damned if I know what the difference between the working times and the non working times is) to create a perfectly measured model of my new house. Then I measured my furniture and tested it out at various locations.

My wardrobe is fine, but I chose to spend the next five weeks (the length of time before I move to wherever the hell I’m going to move to) testing the whole ‘capsule wardrobe’ concept. I’m limiting myself to 27 items of clothing and ten pairs of shoes and packing the rest.

What I’m trying to say is WHOA NELLY. I am feeling a little out of whack.

External organizing leads to internal cohesion, right?

I’m pretty sure that’s a thing.

so many tiny hairs

Sunday, September 7th, 2014

Being of Italian descent, there are a lot of ways I could go with a post about hair.

However, today I got the hairs on my head cut. By this woman who I think is the most amazing stylist ever.

This is our story.

Like four years ago, the daughter of the family that owns me and Crockett’s favorite restaurant showed up with an amazing haircut and I complimented her on it and asked who did it, because I was in desperate need of a haircut at the time. She told me it was a woman named Emmy and I called her and made an appointment.

She’s a teeny tiny brunette woman who, at the time, lived in Nederland (where I grew up). She had my goal hair (which, as always, was sort of piece-y and easy and just super hot) and I was shy and nerdy when speaking to her. She gave me an amazing haircut that I can’t find a picture of. (Facebook, what the fuck are you good for if not for finding pictures of your hair from four years ago?) She was basically like me if I was cooler and had decided to cut hair instead of do math.

She intimated the shit out of me, and by the time I called to make another appointment she’d moved to LA. TO LOS ANGELES. Best haircut I’d ever had in my life and the woman who did it just up and went halfway across the country.

Three years later, I had terrible hair. You can only go to cheap stylists and say ‘please do exactly what I have but shorter’ for so long. Eventually it gets blurred into generic hair shape.

I googled Emmy to look longingly at her portfolio, because I apparently remember a good stylist better than, say, high school boyfriends. (True story – my high school boyfriend’s last name was the French word for something else, and the other day I was trying to see if he’d gotten ugly because dear lord all the rest of my ex boyfriends (Crockett excluded, handsome as ever) have gotten ugly (or they always were? and I just didn’t used to be shallow?) and I googled his name with the English translation for like ten minutes before I realized what the problem was.) She was back in Boulder, so I made an appointment and went. It was right before we went to San Francisco.

Unwashed, unbrushed, amazing.

Then she went and had a baby and stopped working for awhile (and one million congratulations to her for that).

So I waited, and grew it all long, and went to a stylist a friend recommended and medium loathed the outcome, and occasionally googled.

And then.

Unmade up. Super pleased.

Just cut, unmade up, super pleased.

She’s back.

You guys, I don’t know how to explain how important this is. Everyone’s hair is a pain in the ass, and everyone should have a stylist who understands the ways in which that pain exists.

High school boyfriends come and go (patently untrue once high school is over unless you are an adult making EXCEPTIONALLY poor choices but just let me say this) but a stylist who understands your hair and that you like it to be a-little-punk-a-little-shaggy-but-never-ever-like-the-mom-from-the-brady-bunch is forever.