Coffee Anyone?

So a few months ago I sold my soul helped out a friend on a charity photo shoot.

Said friend happened to by John Myers of Myers Creative Imaging.

He takes beautiful photos. His thing is portraits. And characters.

And every year he makes a really cool book of all his character portraits.

Simple, right?

Well, I’m pretty sure I’m owed some residuals off this favor.

I did the book.

And then ended up in the homepage slideshow.

As the main image for the portraits section.

And in an e-blast.

But in all seriousness, this was pretty much the coolest thing that happened to me all week…or quite possibly maybe ever. John takes beautiful photography and he is a blast to work with. Except I’m not sure I like all the getting bossed around that comes with being a model.

The more amusing part of this story is the day after the e-blast went out, John and I were freezing our asses off in a 30 degree horse barn, traipsing through dirt, straw, sawdust, and everything else that comes with a horse farm, because our lives are just that glamorous. Of course, I brought coffee.

And no, I do not look like this in real life.

I look better.

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Watch out for the Nice Guys.

Watch out for the nice guys.

It’s advice that your mom/best friend/sister/therapist/Bridget Jones probably never told you.

But I’m letting you know.

BEWARE of the nice guy.

The nice guy is easy to fall for. He makes dinner reservations. He waits until you get inside the house before leaving. He asks about your day and is legitimately interested in hearing about it. He pulls out your chair, buys you flowers, and has a glass of wine waiting for you when you arrive. And not a glass of wine in the “I am making decisions for you and am trying to control you” way, but in the “I’m being thoughtful” way.

The moment you find yourself thinking, “this is really nice” and “wow, I need to go to finishing school so I know what to do when he pulls the chair out next time” remind yourself of this: The nice guy is easy to fall for. I need to watch out.

That way, when the nice guy calls it off with you over text message less than 48 hours after doing something amazingly sweet and less than 24 hours after telling you how much he likes you, you won’t be surprised.

I’M WARNING YOU. Watch out.

Also? “Hi!” is not an appropriate greeting for a let’s just quit while we are ahead text message.

An exclamation point? Are you sh*tting me life? Didn’t realize you were THAT excited to be extracting yourself from my life.

Beware. Of. The. Nice. Guy.

(I won’t even get started on the fact that I DESERVE A FREAKING PHONE CALL and that text message is only an appropriate form of communication if you are under the age of 14.)

At least when you fall for the d-bag, you know he’s going to consistently be douche-y. He’ll cancel plans (if he even bothers to make them in the first place), he’ll only call you after midnight (and nothing good happens after midnight), and he’ll probably tell you that he ‘forgot his credit card’ as soon as you show up to the bar (but do you mind spotting him? Just this once?). He won’t commit and he will forget your birthday. But he will manage to keep giving you just those few amazing moments every so often that you are always thinking “it’s going to be different” and “he’ll change.”

Like I said. Consistent.

Be careful out there ladies. Don’t let yourself fall for a Mr. Wrong. Keep your heart and your eyes open. WIDE OPEN.

And watch out for the nice guys.

Last Day! Snail Mail my Email

Fact: I love paper.

I love sending paper. And I love, love, love receiving paper. Getting the mail is one of my top ten favorite things to do. So much that I actually dislike days that the mail doesn’t come.

Like Sundays. And who dislikes Sundays? It’s like disliking Christmas. Blasphemy, folks.

Back to paper.

Today is the last day of ‘Snail Mail my Email,’ which is pretty much one of the coolest things ever. And it’s free.

The idea? Send an email (100 words or less) to snailmailmyemail2@gmail.com, along with the recipient’s physical address.

They’ll handwrite your note, make it all artistic, and send it in the mail for you. You can even select custom options for the note, like doodles or perfume sprays or lipstick kisses.

(Although the idea of some stranger kissing a note with lipstick that is then sent to one of my friends is sort of…creepy. Not to mention the germ contamination…sad side effect of paper mail.)

Did I mention that it’s free?

How did this all start? The project was started in 2011, with the goal of rebuilding personal connections in our digital world — and more than 10,000 letters were illustrated and mailed to over 70 countries. You can see many of these in the Snail Mail book.

So get writing!

This isn’t a ‘Dear John’ letter.

It’s a Dear Dan letter.

And it goes something like this.

Dear Dan,

Thank you for making me feel like Eva Mendes. She’s well, you know, sort of my girl crush.

Have you seen Hitch? Do you remember the scene in the bar, with the bad apple martini? It’s THAT Eva Mendes. So thank you, because I love Eva Mendes.

There I was, sitting in the airport, peacefully reading my book. And you came over. You ignored my headphones, my obvious interest in my book, and the ‘f*ck off’ sign I had above my head. You had, as you say, been ‘staring at me for thirty minutes’ (because that’s not creepy at all) and just ‘had to come say hi.’

I admire your persistence Dan. After I turned down your offer of a drink (three times), even though the bar was only a stone’s throw away and we had hours until the flight left, you just kept talking.

You told me how you live with your mother. At age 27. And how you have a tiny yippie frou-frou dog. And how you had never done this before, but those three glasses of white zinfandel really just gave you courage. And how this “just wasn’t awkward at all!”

Seriously? You had me at ‘living at home.’ 

And even after I told you I was seeing someone (huge dude, tons of muscles, in the mob, etc.), you just kept talking. You offered me more wine. You asked me to share things about myself (I declined) and you overshared about yourself (gag). You asked me to meet up in Texas. I told you that I watch Criminal Minds and no, no thank you.

You just wouldn’t take a hint. I was really enjoying my book Dan. 

Even when I blatantly did not close my iPad, did not fully remove my headphones, and openly texted my sister to emergency-911-avoid-the-crazies call me, you were still there. Talking.

So thank you, for the compliment of coming over. Truly, thank you.

But the next time you’ve had three glasses of wine and think its a good idea to talk to the girl reading a book with her headphones in sitting a few seats away in the airport lounge?

Yeah…keep that idea to yourself. Because I didn’t have Will Smith hovering nearby to save me.

Sincerely and xo,

cakerypapery

The next time someone says I am high maintenance…

They should remember that I scuba dive.

Scuba diving is not glamorous. And you cannot be high maintenance if you dive.

Right now, I’m on day five of the great father-daughter adventure. Which means I’ve spent half of the last four days either at sea or in the sea. With two more to go.

Sure, scuba diving sounds glamorous and I get to go to exotic places like Belize and Papua New Guinea…but there is NOTHING exotic about neoprene bodysuits. Or marine toilets.

Let me tell you what life is like.

We wake up, and schlep our dive gear down to the “marina.” We board the large bathtub boat, and take the roller coaster boat ride to the dive site. This is after hauling air tanks, repairing the boat engine, and fixing whatever else broke overnight. And don’t even think about bringing anything that needs to stay dry onto the boat. There is no such thing as “dry” on a dive boat.

Once you get to the reef, after getting pelted in the face with salt spray for thirty minutes to an hour, it’s time to shove yourself into five millimeters of neoprene so you’re not freezing once you hit the ocean floor. And no one, no matter how good looking you are, looks good in a wetsuit. It’s just…not a good look.

And after four days of diving, it doesn’t matter how much you try to wash things…they just smell like ocean. And not the good salt smell that reminds you of the spa.

Did I mention the part where you spit inside your mask so it doesn’t fog up? Because that’s really sexy.

After spending a few hours in the ocean, you come back from the boat covered in a mix of salt, sweat, and sunscreen. And get ready to do it all again the next day. Why? Because divers are just crazy like that. And the ocean is full of cool stuff to look at.

Right now, my hair feels like straw from being continually submerged in salt water. I have water in my ears so I’m half deaf and off balance. My feet have a few raw spots from my fins, which won’t heal up due to continually being wet. I’m starting to break out from wearing layers of grease sunscreen. I haven’t worn makeup in days. My blood is full of nitrogen and my throat is scratchy from inhaling compressed air. And don’t bother trying to look pretty. It’s so hot here you start sweating even with air conditioning on.

But this is the scuba life. And it’s worth it.

So no, I am not high maintenance.

And besides, high maintenance is just another word for high quality.

Yes, I’m with THOSE Dads.

So day one of the great Father-Daughter Adventure is finished. And “adventure” is putting it lightly…

First, there was the 3:45 a.m. wake-up call. I’ll admit that getting home the night before was entirely my fault…BUT STILL. No one is that cheerful before 4, Dad.

Then there was plane número uno. Everything was going quite well, minus the Asian couples who each had millions of carry on bags and didn’t understand that they all had to be in an overhead bin or under a seat…And let’s not forget the guy in the hazmat suit who came rushing down the aisle with a bucket of blue goo because the bathroom wasn’t working. Awesome.

I give major props to the woman sitting behind me who tried to order a mimosa at 5:30 a.m. It was five o’clock, right?

Now for plane number two. We had the most super cheerful flight attendant, who came around with champagne and mimosas as soon as we boarded the plane. Me, being smart, happily accepted.

But not those dads. They, turned down champagne, asking for the hard stuff. “Not until we are in the air” was the response. “In the air” turned out to be 30-plus minutes later. Jealous of my champagne? Rookie mistake, Dad.

But let’s get to the “in the air” part. My dad, being efficient playing catch-up, asks our other cheery flight attendant for doubles. The attendant happily brings over multiple airplane bottles and extra tonic…at this point, the daughters just look at the two dads…yes, we’re with those two. This pattern continued throughout the flight. It also involved moments of my dad getting up to fetch his own ice from the kitchen…and so on.

Did I mention this was all before noon?

Also, since when are passengers from steerage coach allowed to use the first-class bathroom? Flight attendants were falling down on the job. (Probably too busy herding cats who were in the galley trying to get their own ice…)

Now to when we land. We get off the plane, get through immigration, and bienvenidos a Mexico! As soon as we get our bags and get through customs, that is. At customs, my dad tries to tag along on my form, claiming that I “never gave his back.” Erroneous, it was in his passport. That is, until I got the dreaded red light and my bags had to be searched. THEN he wanted nothing to do with me.

When I got outside to the death trap cab, I was sent to fetch beers from the outdoor airport bar. And, due to my very important beverage mission, I was the last person to the cab, which was stuffed full of twelve people and their bags. My “seat” was on top of a suitcase, balanced against the door.

After arriving at the hotel (which is quite lovely), we went to a bar called the Thirsty Cougar. After the most delicious fresh chips and guac ever (and possibly a few beers), I was forced to commandeer a glass from the bar.

We then went to “go see our Italian friends” down the block…where I had to explain that a spumante was not, in fact, the type of Italian white they were looking for…a bottle of wine later, we were back at the hotel.

And, because I was running on three hours sleep, I went to bed and skipped any potential dinner adventures.

All in all, it was a great day. The dads are hysterical and crack the daughters up. It’s going to be a good trip.

I promise to post photos, as soon as I figure this whole blogging from my iPad thing out.

Falling for Fall: Photoshop Actions

I love fall. Pretty much everything about it is perfect to me.

The leaves change — the air changes — it’s acceptable to drink spiked cider again.

Fall. Is. Awesome.

Luckily for me, Upstate NY has great foliage this time of year. And it’s great for photo-ing. (yes, I did just use the word “foliage” in a legitimate sentence.)

Which means I’ve started playing around the my big-girl camera. And Photoshop.

My latest Photoshop love is the “actions” feature. Photoshop actions are pre-programmed photo edits that basically make for one-click editing. It’s like having your favorite iPhone editing app in your Photoshop, only better.

And because photographers are pretty cool people, you can download most Photoshop actions for gratis, which is how I like to roll. There are too many to different ones to count, but here is a great top 100 (yes, only 100) list.

So…I got crafty and I made this new cover image for my FB.

It uses lots of cross-process actions.

Here is one of the before shots. Eh.

And then after.

And seriously? Every girl needs a pair of these.

Amazing.

Then I played around with HDR.

Before. Eh.

After.

Pretty cool, right?

With just one click.

Pretty. Freaking. Cool.

Friday Find: Tieks

So I’m not so much into flat shoes. But when I find a pair I love…I just fall in love.

And I am falling in love with my Tieks.

Tieks are ballet flats. That fold up and fit in your purse. And have teal soles.

Um, amazing.

Given that I’m hesitant to try shoes without really trying them on, I read a few of the reviews other women had posted. Every review described them as the most amazing flats ever, so I decided to go for it. (hello, even Oprah likes them.) 

I did have some initial shock at the price point…but quickly got over it once the shoes arrived.

They come in a beautiful teal box.

And inside are the shoes, pant clips, and a fold-up bag meant for carrying your heels in.

Did I mention they are amazingly comfortable? Most flats I own look comfortable, but by the end of the day…not so much. Blisters, digging into the back of your heel…the list goes on.

With my Tieks though, I can wear them all day at work and they feel as great at the end of the day as they did at the beginning. Definitely. Worth. The investment.

When I have them on, I like to imagine myself as a big-city girl, dashing to the subway with flashes of Tiffany blue peeking out from the soles, and then slipping into my heels just before I walk in to where I’m going. Oh, and there would be a theme song for my entrance.

Tieks come in a variety of colors, but each pair has the signature teal sole. Adding these to my Christmas list? Check.

Closet Hack: Hangers

So one of my summer bucket list items is cleaning out my closet. And as we all know, I’ve been hard at work making it happen thinking about it.

Which is why I’m going to employ one of my favorite closet hacks to help me get the job done.

Like every good life hack, its inelegant but effective.

All I’m going to do is turn my hangers the opposite direction.

Seriously. That’s it.

I normally have my hangers in the closet like this.

Which is the normal way to do it.

Closet hack?

Turn all the hangers around. Work in progress below.

When you wear an item, put it back in the closet on the hanger the correct way. After a few months, you can see at a glance what you have and haven’t worn. Which can help with the “I really love this…I’m sure I’ll wear it soon” justification for keeping clothing.

Hopefully in the next few months I will have culled my closet of items I no longer wear.

Good luck!

Friday Find: Threadflip

So as we all know…one of my summer bucket list items is to clean out my closet.

When it comes down to it, if I spent money on it…I somehow just can’t part with it.

I’ve tried taking items to consignment shops to lessen the sting, but I’m always just too lazy busy to get to one. So I hoard treasure items, eventually giving them to Goodwill. But most things end up in clothes purgatory, or as it’s officially called, “the guest room.”

Which is why I’m super-excited to check out Threadflip. I first saw this on Lofty Appetite–and had to run home to try it.

Threadflip is an online boutique for gently-used clothing, shoes, and accessories. You decide the price—it’s free to list items—and Threadflip’s ‘concierge’ takes care of the rest. $7 is added to the price to cover shipping, and when you sell an item, Threadflip sends you a box and label to ship it in. Photo, list, sell, ship.

The catch? Threadflip does take 20% of the price to make a profit—but it’s well worth it for the convenience of being able to sell items without leaving the comfort of my couch home.

So far I have my online boutique up—now I just need that first sale!