Some days, trying to be creative is the most hair-pulling, ulcer-inducing thing in the world. I can put myself in a very foul mood, on occasion. But then I am reminded (by an outpouring of affection and a long list of inspiring hyperlinks) that I’m not doing myself any favors, and although it’s challenging work, it shouldn’t be hateful.
And that’s when I decided to take a break and paint my nails.
I’ve also found that my nail polish collection has grown exponentially in the past three months. I’m not sure what happened. This isn’t even the entire collection. Just the prettier ones. And Teresa in the background. Rawr.
And while I was waiting for them to dry, I went on website-tangent after website-tangent of quirky, beautiful work. There is so much talent out there. I could never be better than every single one, but I can do me like no one’s business.
On an almost entirely unrelated note, I don’t like valentine’s day. You can’t eat roses. So we had steak instead.
And it’s not that I didn’t have an amazing day – a visit to Tartine and Bi-Rite on a blustery Sunday morning is exactly my cup of tea, as is a home cooked meal consisting of a huge slab meat and a nice glass of wine. But in general I scoff at V-day, since my man is amazing and un-cheesily romantic the other 364 days of the year, why punish him with all things pink and frilly?
 I’m going to have to amend my previous statement. When I picked him up at the airport this afternoon, he had a bouquet waiting for me. He told me he was worried they would get squished when they went through the security conveyer belt. <3