6 of one, half-dozen of the other

I'm not a big fan of chain stores; yes, I do patronize them sometimes (though I do try to limit it, money gets in the way), but I prefer to support local businesses.  So working at a local business is pretty cool for me.  It's a gourmet grocery store, and I think that it's a really great place to work, and I like my job a lot.  I see firsthand how much the store helps the community with donations and events, and it's really cool to be able to directly communicate with the store's owners.  It's very comforting to know that if a problem arises, management has your back.  (and they have had my back on a few occasions.)

But I recently discovered that there was a lawsuit about racial discrimination against the store in the early 90s.  It's not like that anymore, but it was really disheartening to know that the former owner (now retired) could be that way, because he was someone I looked up to.  When I mentioned the lawsuit to a coworker, she brought up that the business IS a "good old boys" kind of place and that the female managers still make far less money than the male managers.

It broke my heart.  I still think it's a good place to shop, and an even better place to work.  But I can't look at the owners the same way anymore.  I guess it's like shopping at American Apparel- no sweatshops, just sexual harassment.

So how do you choose what to take a stand on?  I guess there aren't easy answers to anything.

this year

I want to work harder than ever.  I'm going to be the best designer ever!  (ha!) but I might as well try, I guess.

I know how to do a lot of things

I know how to code html, I know how to make homemade tortes, I know how to make lovely fresh flower arrangements, I know the names of all the most important artists of the 20th century, I know how to make my own alterations to clothes, and I know how to drive a stick shift.

but I'm not really sure how to tell someone that he's drinking too much and smoking too much and that I'm so so worried.

wish I did

my grandpa

when I was 3 or 4 my best friend in the whole world was my grandpa.  I don't have tons of memories of playing with him or anything, but what I do remember is running into his arms every time I went to my grandparents' house.  I remember how he smelled like pipe tobacco, his cane and his civil war magazines all over the house.

He died when I was 4, so a lot of what I know about him is what my parents told me.  He only had a 3rd grade education, but he loved reading and knew everything about the civil war.  He smiled all the time, except when he was crying happy tears, because almost everything made him cry.  He worked multiple jobs to support his five children, because his family had come from Slovakia and worked hard to make his life better.  There's a studio portrait of my dad's family in the 70s where he's just beaming with pride.  He had the most handsome smile in the world.

And I was his favorite grandchild. When Jehovah's Witnesses came to the front door, he showed them pictures of me.  Once, my mom had told me not to cuddle with him because his health was so bad and I had a cold.  I remember telling him that I couldn't hug him, but he said he didn't care and I climbed into his lap.

After he died, when I was in kindergarten, I used to pretend his ghost was around to protect me when I got scared.  Nothing was scary when Grandpa was around to hold my hand.  I loved him.

The Most Exciting Thing

maybe it's some 1950s bullshit that I've bought into because I just love Buddy Holly or something, but the thing I'm looking forward to the most when I move into the house is going to be being a hostess.  I want to have wine and cheese parties where I pay attention to pairings and make careful placecards for all my guests.  I want to hold potlucks and be a good hostess who introduces everyone.  I want to make hand-made invitations to the most exclusive parties.

heck, I want to bring my boyfriend breakfast in bed, and make veggie stir frys for my roommates.  Awesome!

Lee Hazlewood

If there was ever proof of my uncool-ness, it is my obsessive love for Lee Hazlewood.

I mean, when you watch this video you can practically smell the polyester and Old Spice. Anyway, he is pretty ridiculous. I think anyone who likes him in this day and age are probably weird old men and uh, me. But I love him just the same, as he is a cowboy but kind of a fake cowboy so he probably is not even that tough.

man, I wish he wasn't dead.

all my feelings are best expressed in twee. (I know this is a break-up song but I'm not breaking up.)