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Exactly 20 years ago I graduated from The University of Texas, sold my car and bought a one-way ticket to Vail, Colorado. Burned out after college, the last thing I wanted to be was a practicing graphic designer, so I packed up a few things and headed off for life as a ski bum. “Weenie’s Vail Years” is a saga in and of itself, and maybe I’ll tell it someday. For now though, it’s just a bit of back story. Let me start by saying, I love this town. Vail took me in during a difficult time in my life, and while there were some rough patches along the way, the fact that I could wake up to such beauty each day and ski to work made everything seem alright. Also, I was in my 20s and there were lots of boys there. But I digress. Coming back to Vail after so long was like going to someone else’s high school reunion; I didn’t know anyone and spent a lot of time trying to find a restroom. As we first drove into town, I had Mr. Weenie take me by the condo where I used to live. Hardly anything had…
Read MoreWe decided to spend the last week of our Colorado vacation in the secluded town of Alma, just south of Breckenridge. Alma had everything we were looking for in a quiet hideaway—snowcapped mountains, a winding creek, wildlife to watch, trails to explore and seven whole days take it all in. We couldn’t wait to get started doing nothing. What we were about to learn however, was just how much nothing there was in Alma—and how much of it we could bear. DAY 1: The altitude has gotten to us again. We drop our suitcases and pass out for twelve hours. Technically, this doesn’t really count as a day. DAY 2: Our anniversary! We sleep, read, eat and generally enjoy each other’s company. Bill gives me a nice gift. I have no gift for Bill. I thought the trip to Colorado was a gift. I am an asshole. DAY 3: Bill sleeps like a drugged toddler, while I read futuristic porn on my iPad. He later accuses me of secretly texting. Has he seen me sneak out during his naps to stand in a field with my arm reaching skyward, waving my phone like a lighter at a Bon Jovi concert? I’ve given thought to climbing up on the roof to get a connection,…
Read MoreWith a tattered map in the back seat and muddy footprints along the floorboards of our rental car, the Weenie family said farewell to the majestic Rocky Mountains and headed back home. Curiously, we left Austin with three bags and returned with four. It’s as if our luggage went on the same high-carb diet we did while on vacation We arrived home to discover that Casa Weenie was busy while we were away: 1. The garden and all indoor plants committed suicide. 2. Our house almost caught on fire. 3. Something died in the refrigerator. 4. Gary the Home Gnome forgot to do the dishes and make the bed while we were out. As I sprawl out on the kitchen floor, waiting for the house to cool down, it occurs to me that other than my husband and a 12-year-old boy panning for gold, I haven’t spoken to another human being in over two weeks. I’m a little nervous about going back to reality and the necessity for human contact—and a bit worried that everyone I know has forgotten who I am. As far as Twitter and Facebook are concerned, I no longer exist. Will I remember how to brush…
Read MoreLast fall I wrote a post describing my first real foray into agriculture, where my enthusiasm was outweighed only by my ignorance of all things vegetative (other than myself during Law & Order marathons). Contrary to my hypothesis that vegetables don’t really come from seeds, but rather from Whole Foods, I quickly found small green things poking out of the dirt in my backyard. Apparently the old graphic design maxim, “When it doubt, make it big.” applies to farming as well. (The second part of that maxim, “If still in doubt, make it big and red.,” only applies during tomato season.) After quickly becoming aware that I had planted a bit too much in my first garden, I decided to build another. And by “build another” I mean have Mr. Weenie do it while I check my email and apply lip balm. Once “Plan B” had been enacted, I anxiously awaited the bountiful harvest. Fast forward a few months: Farmer Weenie has managed to kill all the squash and sugar snap peas. Even more tragic was her overzealous stand against “weeds,” which she later realized were actually arugula. On the bright side, the garden had produced two rather expensive radishes…
Read MoreClearly, I am not tending to the bird feeder in a timely enough fashion.
Read MoreYou may not know that my two all-time favorite bands are The Who and Pink Floyd. Choosing which I love more would be a heartbreaking Sophie’s Choice of rock anthem proportions. I could wax on and on about how fan-freaking-tastic they are, but there aren’t enough adjectives synonymous with “awesome.” What I can talk about is graphic design, and aside from both bands being in desperate need of major website re-designs, each of them has a history of really cool album covers. (Note for those born after 1980: An album falls somewhere between this and this.) Apparently I live in a cave circa 1993, so I just discovered these really cool kicks by Converse. Which one’s your fave?
Read MoreNo offense to Lex Oto, but he might want to rethink that logo.
Read MoreSo here I sit, waiting for people to show up to my event: #BloungeATX Bloggers’ Lounge. There are currently four of us here, and I have food to feed 50+. What the hell am I going to do with 100 chicken wings and 75 corn dog bites? Well, first I’m going to eat. A LOT. As far as my pride goes, meh, I’ll survive. I’ve certainly learned to deal with embarrassment before. Here are just three examples: 1. I insisted on throwing a going away party in my modest home for two VERY popular friends. There were other offers of venues, but I just had to be the hostess with the mostest. The result? 65-year-old women sitting on my living room floor—classy. 2. In preparing to give a talk about graphic design to a group of association executives, I spent so much time making sure my presentation slides were perfect, that I neglected to actually practice my speech. The result? Perhaps the crappiest presentation of all time. Seriously. It was legendary. 3. I used to teach a graphic design course at a community college. Some of my colleagues told me I needed to be tough on the students. As in…
Read MoreLast night Mr. Weenie worked behind the scenes at the Texas Film Hall of Fame Awards Show. He does it every year—designing the stage and doing the technical direction. I attended the first year but haven’t been back since. Here are some reasons why: 1. Awards shows make me nervous. I’m constantly cringing at how uncomfortable the celebrities look on the red carpet. And why do all the women have their hands on their hips? It’s not like they have any arm fat to hide. 2. Watching the sycophants reporters interview the celebs makes me feel sad. 3. I don’t understand why they insist on having the cameras focused on the losers. That’s just mean. How many of those people actually practice their “I’m a loser” faces before the ceremony? My guess? All of them. (Except Mel Gibson, who pretty much looks like a loser all the time.) 4. How evil is it that the reporters tell the red carpet walkers how lovely they look and then publish stories about Angie Harmon’s Björk impression and Anne Hathoway’s superpower of turning completely invisible when she wears beige? 5. The worst part of the ceremony by far is the acceptance speech. While…
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