annika & brie

I know, I know.

I've been flying a little under the radar lately.

What can I say?

Things are crazy.

I am smack dab in the middle of having company stay from out of town, setting up my new art room, planning a big party, working on my Winter jewelry collection, helping friends that have had surgery and slopping up baby barf every minute or so.

I'm a little busy.

I can't wait to share photos of the new room with you, but that might be a while in the making, soooooo.

I thought I'd post a few sketches I did a while back for a friend of mine who is starting a new business that may or may not require my services. It's all up in the air.

And quite frankly, I'm okay with that.

I really don't have time to give to anyone else at the moment.

So don't even ask.

Unless you are having surgery. Then I'll see what I can do.

a little spark of creativity

Okay guys, here's the deets.

I know some of you are wondering what this Spark thing is that I have been talking about. Go here and all will come to light.

The inspiration behind Spark is this talk by Dieter F. Uchtdorf which I think every women should watch.

Photo credit: Jefra Linn

I'll be demonstrating stamp carving and teaching a jewelry making class. The other classes are going to be equally as great. The four ladies behind the event are amazing. I'm totally stoked to be working with such great women!

I created a stamp just for the Spark event.

I want you to come! There is a limited number of spots available so get your trip planned and get your Spark on!

the big escape

This is a true story. Names have not been changed to protect the guilty or innocent. We don't believe in crap like that.

Sugar Daddy started a new tradition. On Saturday mornings he takes the boy and the wild beast to Dog Beach. They stop at Leucadia Doughnuts on the way. Finnigan and Thom run around like banshees in the sand and surf and get all their energy out for the day.

I stay in bed and cuddle Birdie. It's wonderful.

A couple of Saturdays ago the boy came home with a pet. Now let it be known that I love animals and believe all children should be allowed to learn and grow through the responsibilities of caring for a pet.

But...

I'm not big on pets of the little variety. Mainly because they stink. Gerbils=stink. Birds=stink. Lizards, turtles and snakes=stink and creepiness.

I've never wanted my house to be a kid house. You know the type. Toys strewn about the living room. Science projects by the sink. Stinky little pets in bedrooms.

But I'm afraid it's becoming inevitable. The boy came home with a crab. His father, knowing it is easier to ask forgiveness than permission, had stopped at the pet store and bought an aquarium with all the bells and whistles.

They set it up in Thom's bathroom. "Eugene" had his new home. (Eugene, as in Eugene Crabs from Spongebob.)

Eugene stayed huddled in the corner for the first day, then he burrowed under the rocks.

Or so we thought.

On his third day at the Meeker house Eugene went on the lamb.

I was on the phone with my dad when I spotted something in the far corner of the kitchen wedged underneath the cabinets. I got closer to have a look and gasped into the receiver when it dawned on me that I was looking at Eugene's corpse.

It seems his gamble didn't pay off.

But what a display of sheer determination! People, this little crab crawled out of the tank and down the bathroom cabinets. He must have gone through Thom's room, down the hall, took a hard right, and scaled down two flights of stairs. At that point I can only imagine his excitement to see a door leading outside. Freedom at last! But he still had a ways to go, down the hall and through the kitchen. He must have been simply exhausted. I wonder what went through his mind as defeat overcame him, as he realized the door was shut tight, that he was slowly drying out with no where to go.

Poor Eugene.

"What am I going to tell him?" I asked my dad. "He's going to be so upset! He only had him a couple of days!"

I tried to break the news to Thom as gently as I possibly could. I put him on my lap. I stroked his hair and explained that Eugene was no more. I waited for the tears.

"Good." he said. "Now I can get those fish that I really wanted at the pet store."


Such sentimentality.

sweet sweet honey bees

MySpace Music Playlist at MixPod.com

I'm not a passionate person per say. I have a handful of things that I feel very strongly about. But they could all be listed on my palm with a Sharpie.

Family. Faith. Fashion. You know, stuff like that.

But political things boggle my mind and although I surround myself with opinionated people, I am usually reluctant to take a hard stand on things. I don't want to be like all the people walking around blabbing that the world was flat just before Magellan debunked the whole system.

I like to keep my options open. What's that about saying less and seeming smarter?

But I find that I have become down right passionate about the lowly plight of the honey bee. Did you know that they are dissappearing?

Antropologie recently got on board to shed light on the problem.

I just love Antro more and more.

Hagen Daz ice cream has been running a huge campaign to save the bees for a while now. You can read about what you can do to help here, on their site.

I thought I would start my own hive this past Spring, but instead of a queen bee, I brought home our little princess. The hive was put on hold, but not forgotten.

Maybe next spring...

Secondsister Honey. I like the sound of that.

she sleeps

And a peace fell over the land.

And the people were happy.

I went to see Hans to get rid of my hag hair and to hear the gossip. Hans is a show in and of himself. He told me I need a staff.

Should I be offended by that?

He told me all kinds of juicy little tidbits about his ex-wife and about opening day at the Del Mar Race Track. He told me about all the different hats the women wore and the linen suits the men wore. He described what a mint julep tastes like.

I told him about the baby barf and described what it's like to eat your lunch while you water the plants and scoop the dog poop in the yard before the baby wakes up and the barfing starts anew.

That's when he said I need a staff.

People- my staff has arrived.

Rosie recently graduated with a degree in Human Performance and she fled the state of Utah for the balmy San Diego climate. She moved in with us until she finds a job and her own place. She is personal trainer, cook, childcare and girlfriend all wrapped into one.

She is my staff.

Do you think she would be offended if I introduced her as such?

bogged blog

Here's a question for ya.

Why is it that when mothers of young children wear skirts, said children love to lift up the skirt and expose things that mother's seldom want exposed?

I was waiting for my burrito at Rubio's and watching a little girl slowly push her mother's dress up until an entire hip was exposed. The mother was paying for her food and didn't notice.

I, of course, got a good laugh at this, because, well, it is funny as long as it isn't happening to me.

It reminded me of the time I was paying for books and I felt a draft only to discover that Thom's head was against the small of my back and he was holding up my skirt for all the world to see.

Thank heaven it was a book store and most people's noses were buried in their books because, I guarantee, with the kind of underwear I wear- it wasn't a pretty sight. These saddle bags have a few oats in them.

Here's another question:

Why is it that sticky baby fingers always find the tender hair at the nape of your neck?

And this:

Why is it that the baby always spits up in the few seconds before you put on a dry bib?

To be honest, I'm totally bogged down in parenthood right now. Birdie was diagnosed with acid reflux and the boy has a ragging case of End of Summer Obnoxiousitis. For me this means there is a whole lot of crying going on at my house and quite frankly it has lead me to ask myself another question.

Why is it I don't drink?

where's the love????

Haven't been around these parts lately and evidently neither has anyone else. That, or not that many of you liked my Spotty creations. Where's the love people?

Anyway- enough poor me crap.

The winners are:(and I would have picked these same people even if a thousand had entered)

Laura- the cuff must go to you because not only do you have a wrist that it will fit, you also deserve a reward for your irreverent, smart ass attitude and faithful readership.

Domestic Katie- you must have the brooch because you are just crazy enough to wear it to church and because I'm using this as a bribe to get you to come to SPARK!

lest you forget

I was thinking it is high time to remind all you loverly people that I make jewelry. Which is for sale. On Etsy.

Lest you forget that your purchases fund my rock and roll life style which these days has become a little more, well, hillbilly, I thought I'd remind you.

And I thought a little giveaway would help you remember.

So I made some stuff to give away on this here blog. See! I'm even talkin' hillbilly these days.

Save me from myself. Please.

Spot was always my favorite. Dick was, well, with a name like that, what do you expect. And Jane? She was a little trite for my liking.

But Spot- now that's a dog.

So I made some Spot stuff.


I will be picking a winner for the cuff bracelet and the hair piece, which doubles as a brooch, which triples as a super cute waist band flourish, on Monday. Leave one comment and tell me which item tickles your fancy and cross your fingers.

The cuff is on the small side so if you are big boned (and by that I don't mean fat) you may want to opt for the hair piece.

Good Luck!

and as long as we are talking dresses. . .

I was born to wear a Korean hanbok.

Why can't we American women adopt a more forgiving style? Think of all the rolls and flaws that could be hidden under a dress like this. The possibilities.

I'm gaga over these images from Korean Vogue. Would it be weird if I just started wearing a hanbok? Could I possibly start a fashion revolution?

Na. I'm only big in Asia.

I am thinking though, that Birdie might look smashing in a hanbok. She's way more chic than I am. I'm going to start work on a pattern. Her hanbok must have a bird embroidered on it.

So much to do, so little time.