Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Goals

Yes, I have goals. I'm looking more to my long term goals now and its still a bit unclear but, I'm closer. Today's goal was to teach myself how to make good focaccia. I realize that it takes years to learn how to make good bread of any kind but I'm a quick study and I have all day. We're out of yeast.

I'm adaptable.

I decided to make rosemary and cheese biscuits. I can do that in my sleep and, no one will find out that I didn't learn how to make good fococcia today. By the way, no matter how you spell Fococcia - the spell check get's it wrong. Its alarming. Surprising alarming considering how many times I post or tweet with typos. I stopped caring about typos when they started causing panic attacks. The proper spelling is; Fococcia. Maybe

We're out of Milk.
Apparently cooking is not supposed to be a goal today.

I'm eating a hash browns cooked in olive oil and fresh herbs, covered with gently scrambled eggs and asiago. Watching Frozen
Planning on eating a cookie.



I'm very adaptable.
We take these things day-by-day.
Baby Steps

Its time to start evaluating what I want to do when things with the family begin to settle to a steady hum again. It won't be long. I've considered a few if not more of the following ideas;

^^Buy a Fifth Wheel and become a campground manager in a remote location.
I don't know where I would wear my shoes

^^Travel around the world cooking for people.
This is possible - I only know about 3 internationals at the moment

^^Begin cultivating strange truffles in the forest and sell them to renegade chefs while living in a tiny house in an anonymous country location.
Again - footwear issue
All other variables are acceptable

^^I've finally begun to write again which makes me thing that there is a possibility of becoming an actual author as previously intended.
All variables acceptable to my life style although I will have to work out more.

^^Begin writing and producing the one woman stage show I always planned as well. I've always preferred long form storytelling to stand up comedy. It was my first love, Hobo Storytelling.
Look it up.

^^Write a particular female winery owner in Italy and ask her to take me on.
Renewing passport immediately.

^^Make Goat Cheese in remote country location; like that Goat Lady from Cold Mountain only with nicer teeth and shoes and nails and toiletries..
Variables are piling up on this one.

Let's vote shall we?
Goals - Yay? or Nay?

Getting a job or making money is an imminent and necessary goal. Or, you could buy some of the most fantastic unique items EVER from my Zazzle Store. Cause you're cool like that.

Liberty Statue, New York Clutch Wristlet Purse
Liberty Statue, New York Clutch Wristlet Purse by cwcreative
Look at other Newyork Bagettes Bags at zazzle.com

Monday, July 21, 2014

Oh Wow, My What a Cute Purse

Oh my Goodness! You guys, I've been working my way through images from the last 15 years - I've been walking all over the world and it has been a wonderful trip down memory lane. Another thing I've been doing? I've been working on creative outlets that translate to creative ways to open up another dimension called - cash flow. At the same time - I've been over-goaling myself by actually organizing shit and creating work flow again. In the process of avoiding working I designed these cute wrist-lets. 
Rome in Black & White, Mini Sued'd Clutch Wristlets
Rome in Black & White, Mini Sued'd Clutch Wristlets by cwcreative
Look at Romefashion Bagettes Bags online at Zazzle.com

Each one of the purses have a photographic memory from Paris - New York & Rome. 
During each trip I photographs with such complete consciousness - the memories were easy to re-connect. 

Liberty Statue, New York Clutch Wristlet Purse
Liberty Statue, New York Clutch Wristlet Purse by cwcreative
See other Newyork Bagettes Bags
Eiffel Tower Mini Clutch Wristlet Purses
Eiffel Tower Mini Clutch Wristlet Purses by cwcreative
Look at other Paris Bagettes Bags at zazzle.com

Sunday, July 20, 2014

San Francisco on Wood Canvas

I've spent most of the day combing through photos from San Francisco. The San Francisco I saw mostly on my own. There is an instant I try to capture when I frame a photograph. While I'm framing or searching for a subject I'm also noting what I'm thinking, what emotion is washing over me, what kind of day was I having - and finally; am I moved? Moved to an extraction of emotion or response, repulsion or, waves of unidentifiable paralyzing of toxic triggers. Whatever the reason I took a walk through San Francisco today and posted some of my favorite street scenes in this group of photographs.

This is a few, more are available on my Zazzle Store on 8"x8" wood canvas

Over the Stockton Tunnel by cwcreative
Browse more wood canvases
San Francisco Glow
San Francisco Glow by cwcreative
Browse Sanfrancisco Wood Canvas online at Zazzle.com
Shop for wood prints online at Zazzle

About Wood Canvas From the Zazzle Website: 
Product Details
Size: 8"x8" Wood Canvas
Available in 10 sizes to fit any wall.
Printed with sustainable ink on birch wood.
White ink is not printed, allowing wood grains to shine through.
Light colored photos recommended for photo prints.
Wood grains will vary with each print and will not look identical to the visual representation on-site.
Includes two anchors and screws for hanging.
Ships with table stand.
Made in the U.S.A.
Print your favorite photo memories and art on a unique WoodSnap print! Each print is produced with eco-friendly ink on high quality birch plywood. The beautiful wood grains shine through with the omission of white ink during the printing process creating a statement piece perfect for any space. WoodSnap, the original print on wood company, utilizes sustainable manufacturing and plants a tree for every WoodSnap print created. Create a wood print with your choice of 10 different sizes for a one-of-a-kind piece that custom fits your space.

I will be uploading more to my San Francisco Collection as well as others from my travels around the world. 

Friday, July 18, 2014

In Praise of 42 - Fuck You Esquire

I woke up the other day feeling like I should start a fight with a writer at Esquire wearing gold sequinned hot pants.

The fact that I didn't post a response immediately spoke to many different circumstances. I was angry and I never try to blog angry. My parents whom I have been caring for this year have been leap-frogging their way in and out of the hospital for a month. Then the Supreme Court ruled in favor of Hobby Lobby which pissed me off to the point of rage and, finally the Russians or the Ukrainians or someone shot down an airliner.

The world is not a good place; no wonder I'm angry all the time.

So let's catch up together shall we?

Dear Esquire -

This is not my first time addressing your magazine - I'm a fan; always have been. Ask anyone I know, they will tell you that I do nothing but talk about "Meat of the Month" and, "What I've Learned".  I actually tried to eat my way through your ranking of some of the best steaks in America - the one in San Francisco in North Beach - its closed now. I accidentally ate sweet-breads there once - at your recommendation. The steak was delicious - the sweet-breads traumatized me. I cannot eat brains or thymus or any other glandular left-overs. Its not my style.

There are days I look in the mirror after a shower and a good olive-oil scrub and I think, "DAMN GURL - you won the genetic lottery." I shit you not, I do this. Especially since I'm IRISH and I smoked and drank like an Ad Man from Mad Men for so many years. Even after a breakdown, immune system failure, kidney failure, broken vertebra's and a multiple broken-hearts; I feel very lucky.

I want you to read that paragraph again. Do you know what I've survived Mother Fucker's?
Does your Writer ever want to get laid by ANYBODY ever again?
In the age of Gender Equality - your editor allowed you to write and post something so sexist and demeaning?

At 42, I've survived 17 years of childhood abuse to go on and have two children, raise them alone, go to college, have a productive career, I started a comedy club, became an accidental comedian (which is the hardest fucking job on the planet besides Motherhood), survived abusive relationships, abusive bosses, daily onslaughts of discrimination, harassment, abandonment, loss of possessions, money, lovers. Are you picking up what I'm laying down. I'm more than VIABLE - I'm a FUCKING SUPER HERO.

I'm over here helping my adopted parent live comfortably until he dies. I spend my days teaching my children how to be parents, employees, better humans. FUCKABLE?  As a group on a whole - We know were fuckable; we have a VAGINA. Have you looked through Craigslists - over 40 women are a commodity.

For some of us at 42 its about being more than fuckable because, I could get laid every day of the week by a different dude. Here's how more than fuckable I am. A full day of life with me includes caring for my sick parents (this includes adult poop) - I was distracted after having a conversation with my dad about his desire to leave the planet, then my daughter about her future - then interrogating my premature grand daughter about the whereabouts of the hidden diamonds. I'm exhausted after trying to be a good example of compassion and gratitude for my son; even though I wanted to scream the answer in his face. Am I still fuckable? I do this with a smile and a joke so than no one in my home with bigger problems is burdened by my un-fuckability.

If I were to invite all the 40+ year old women in my town to my house for a sexy photo shoot we would have to call the police to keep the young boys from throwing a kegger hoping for an orgy to break-out. We don't have time for orgies - the photos would still blow your fucking mind.

The thing is - I'm still the same person hiding out in my parent's backyard cooking strange things and threatening my Dad with low fat meals. Relationships don't get easier when you're 42, dating doesn't get easier. People are people are people. Men are still men and women are still women; You get jacked around, you talk too much out of nervousness and there is still a very high chance that you will make that weird sound with your vagina during sex; SHAME - that's what were really all afraid of.

Publicly and Privately shamed because of sex. You wonder why we stop having sex with you....

Society has shamed us for having the audacity to be 42 - because we had too much sex? Because we didn't have enough sex? Because maybe we didn't all win the genetic lottery? Because we got married, got divorced, had babies, didn't have babies, had a career, bought a mini-van -- IT NEVER FUCKING STOPS.

(For all the Dudes I had sex with and the Republicans - don't worry - 75% of the sex wasn't that good - for all of my ex-sexual partners reading this, don't email me)

Write an article about how 42 Year Old Women must be the most interesting beings on the PLANET. Because after the day I've had - I'm still the only one responsible for feeling sexy, feeling viable, feeling like a productive part of society. You don't get the right to decide if I'm beautiful.

And, I do work at it. I take care of my hair, I moisturize every single got'damn day, I need to do this so I feel good. I do it for me, I like feeling beautiful, I like caring for my body, I like the euphoria after yoga or meditation. I love the way my legs feel under a dress after shaving them. I do this because I like to feel sexy so I want to have sex with myself. I'm certainly not ever going to have good proper sex with another man if I'm not feeling sexy - I have to start with me. I am more than fuckable at 42 - I'm lovable, adorable, compassionate, experienced, vibrant and don't you fucking ever forget it.

I once had an ex-boyfriend tell me to my face, "There's a super model out there Chantel and, someone is tired of fucking her."   It doesn't matter how fuckable I am at any given time - there is some asshole out there about to lump all of your accomplishments into how you look. I'm 42 this year according to my family - its hard to believe - and I get to look like this. How lucky for me. How unlucky for you - most of you don't deserve me; at 42 - I finally know it.

I dare you to mess with a 42 year old woman. I'm not giving you gold sequined hot-pants because I have better things to do fuckface.

Have fun counting the number of times I use the word "fuck" in this post.