_Last week I got a very creative email from my friend, and fellow designer, Kevin Brindley. He recently returned to Charlotte, from a trip to Jamaica, and reported back with these photos and a clever note:
Hey Nikki, I've been meaning to send you these photos. We bumped into your brand kickin' back and chillin' out in Negril over the holidays! Like a typical celebrity, it was tough to sneak up and snap a few photos, but we lucked out and captured these. We missed once while snorkeling, and instead got a great shot of the side of the boat. Thought we had a good shot at Rick's Cafe too, but the camera was slow and your brand already dove off the cliffs. Margaritaville was a disaster - a whole memory chip full of the back of your brand's head, blurry shots from the dance floor and a constant stream of Jamaicans jumping between us and your brand - frustrating to say the least! At least we caught your brand on camera this day - enjoy!
Made my day. I'm pretty jealous of my brand though now... where's my trip to Jamaica!?
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"When life gives you hands, make handmade" is making the rounds!  When I received a Google Alert for the tee shirt pictured above, I have to admit I was pretty flattered and shocked.

Since I coined the phrase last fall, it's been featured on various blogs, used as someone's blog subtitle, painted with watercolor as part of a 30 Days of Creativity initiative, shown on the keynote stage for the 2011 Compostmodern Conference in San Francisco, pinned and repinned on Pinterest, tweeted, Facebooked and everything in between. I'd have to say most entertaining was when I was contacted by a woman in Melbourne, Australia who wanted to use the design for their city's annual art festival!

It's amazing to see the impact and domino effects created when we put our ideas out into the universe... on second thought, maybe I should look into getting this puppy copyrighted :)
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When Monkey and Squirrel posted a Facebook link to these vintage roller skates, I was hypnotized. Visions of me "Shooting the Duck" on Pecan Ave. came flooding to my mind, and before I knew it, I had logged into both Etsy and Paypal, and pressed "confirm."

Really, Nikki? Roller skates? I haven't ridden roller skates since 1990 with my Brownie troop. It's like riding a bike though, right? Except it's 8 wheels, you're standing and you don't have to pedal. Shit. I better get some knee pads.

At least I can listen to this sweet Matias Aguayo song in my walkman as I bloody my knees.
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One of my 2011 New Year's Resolutions is to read more books. Actually, "read" is a little misleading. I prefer to listen to books. 

WARNING: EMBARRASSING CHILDHOOD STORY 
When I was in 5th grade, my parents declared Monday night: Family Night.  To me (10) and my brother Eric's (12) dismay, this meant no video games, no tv and no telephone. Basically, Family Night was the antichrist of our tween lifestyles.

First we ate dinner as a family. Then our weekly Family Meeting was called to order. As the daughter of a German immigrant, I can assure you the meetings were more organized than the Dewey Decimal System. 

Dad ran the meetings with unwavering efficiency. First order of business: the family calendar. It was filled with soccer practices, mom's book club meetings, potential weekend sleepovers, birthday parties and the like. Event scheduling was followed by the obligatory "old business" and "new business." And for the grand finale, we rotated the chore wheel. My mom was secretary, in charge of keeping meeting minutes in her official Family Meeting 3-ring binder (which was filled with more sheet protectors than a middle school book report). And my brother and I were the poor chumps missing yet another episode of "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air."

Oh, but the fun didn't stop there. As an added "treat," my dad read classic novels, aloud, to the entire family, for an hour. He picked books like The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Two Years Before the Mast, Around the World in Eighty Days, The Count of Monte Cristo and Short Stories of O. Henry. At first Eric and I resisted. We were too old to be read to. But, slowly we became fond of the force fed Twain, Verne and Dumas. Call it Stockholm Syndrome - we were hooked. 
 
To this day, I love being read to. And since my spare time is stretched a bit thin these days, I can squeeze in a good book much easier by listening to it. I can listen while I drive, make buttons, knit, even while I work-out. Audio books give me all the pleasure of reading AND I can be productive at the same time. Plus, since I'm able to do it more frequently, I don't have my usual lapses in reading sessions when I altogether forget the premise of a story. It's also greener and doesn't take up any space in my house. 

I'm not "poo-pooing" reading a book, I love hunkering down with a good book when I have the time. There's nothing like the physicality of real pages and committing your undivided attention to it. I'm just sayin' that audio books are pretty dern good.

So for those of you who, like me, love books and stories but just can't seem to find the time to read, here's a great new site: audible.com. It's a subsidiary of amazon.com. They offer monthly audio book subscriptions. Not sure? Well, I suggest you try their free, month long trial where you can get 2 audio books with no obligation to subscribe. And memberships start as low as 14.95 a month. Books don't "expire" so you can store them up and listen when you can. 

Listen to any good books lately? 
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Had to try it out for myself. Used a photo I took at Raffaldini winery in the Yadkin Valley. Not too shabby, eh?
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Attention all crazy, free-loving hippies:
Check out this hilarious (yet sad) infographic from the geniuses over at GOOD magazine..."Learn about the most common injuries so you can avoid having to take an emergency helicopter off the playa."
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How my Nana got her picture taken with The Man, The Bambino, The Home Run King, The Circuit Smasher, The Bulky Monarch, The King of Clout, The Sultan of Swat, The Wali of Wallop, The Wazir of Wham, The Maharajah of Mash, The Rahaj of Rap, The Behemoth of Bust... The Babe...
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Nana (12 years old) and The Babe in 1934 - Spring Training St Petersburg, FL

“It was during the depression and my mother, brother and I were living with my grandparents in Neenah while my father had a job in Gary, Indiana (which was not a good place to raise a family at that time).  My grandfather had rheumatoid arthritis and had to spend the winters in a warmer climate, so we went with them to St. Petersburg that winter.  My grandfather was a great baseball fan so we often went to watch the Yankees at their winter training camp.  I had my picture taken with Babe Ruth. I also got my baseball signed by that legendary Yankee team which included Lou Gehrig, Bill Dickey, Lefty Gomez, and others along with Babe Ruth.” 
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Nana (89 years old) with the signed baseball in 2010

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Happy Fourth of July Weekend! Had to revive this old pic from a trip I took to Washington, DC a few years ago. I borrowed my best friend's ultra-patriotic, sequin encrusted fanny pack for a classic photo op in front of the White House.
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Etsy.com has become THE place to buy and sell handmade goods. In fact, I'm hoping to open my own Etsy shop in the near future. The crafter's marketplace has something for everyone... and I mean everyone. And although, for the most part, the site delivers beautiful one-of-a-kind handcrafted treasures, there are a few Etsy rejects. Capitalizing on this pheomenom is a new book and website called, "Regretsy: Where DIY Meets WTF." 
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I just went through the site and picked out some of my favorites, but the images alone don't always do it justice. The author/creator writes some hilarious commentary, and sorts them in ridiculous categories like: "Whimsicle Fuckery," "Annoying Descriptions," and "Not Remotely Handmade." 
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More Etsy Fails after the jump!
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Since 1975, BMW has been commissioning artists to create one-of-a-kind Art Cars. The masterpieces-on-wheels were originally intended to be raced, but have since been leveraged by the German automaker to prove BMW's presence in the creative community. Of the 17 designs, the 1991 Art Car (above), by Ester Mahlangu, is my favorite. 
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Contrast the 525i BMW Art Car with my 2000 Saturn SL1. It's depressing really. I drive the most generic, bland, uninteresting car in America. It's a white, 4-door sedan, with manual windows (you should see my forearms), and no style whatsoever. A few years ago, in a desperate attempt to separate my vehicle from the Saturn herd, I started calling it "Uranus." "Everyone pile in Uranus"... "Man, Uranus sure is roomy"... "Uranus is full of gas"... I know, I know, it's a cheap laugh, but it made me feel better about my car for a little while. 

Now Uranus is on the eve of turning 100,000 miles and I'm fantasizing about giving it a new look. Should I paint it? Design some sort of car wrap? Bedazzle it?  
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Then today, I came across this picture on Flickr. Apparently, somebody felt the same way I do, and got a little sticker happy with their SL1. 

I'm starting to think I'll just celebrate the mileage milestone by getting my car washed instead.
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