Category Archives: Creating
Posts about all of the zany things I overestimate my ability on, and the rare few in which ability makes a surprising appearance.
“When you’re safe at home you wish you were having an adventure; when you’re having an adventure you wish you were safe at home.” – Thornton Wilder
Ladies and gentlemen, I am both at home and having an adventure. More specifically, I am having an adventure ABOUT home. My new home. My new OWN home.
Soon I will need to change my bio (see right) from, “One girl, one boy, one cat, two birds, a sunny Baltimore apartment…” to “…a sunny Baltimore rowhouse that requires tons of work and is currently in a sketchy neighborhood but will be totally awesome in a couple of years once Canary puts in a furnace and some dang insulation and digs the bodies out of the basement floor and the neighborhood turns around due to the mega massive development project happening there.”
Though the revision doesn’t really roll off the tongue like the original did.
While I’m at it, I should also change my bio to read “three birds” instead of two (thanks to the addition of Rose Tyler, Ollie’s luvah and best bud), and totally eradicate the “shady garden” (since my downstairs neighbors now let their dog deficate in the backyard and I refuse to go back there with all the poopiness) and the “handful of recipes” (since I never – NEVER – cook).
Maybe I should also change “some” to “more than all the stars in the heavens” when I refer to my “superfluous flesh.”
But I’m digressing. Back to the topic at hand: HOME OWNERSHIP, BABY!
So here’s the skinny on me buying a house in the ghetto: Mr. Mystery decided to speculate in the abandoned Baltimore rowhouse market – there are an estimated 16,000 abandoned buildings in the city – which got us trudging all over the doomed parts of Charm City, of which there are a lot. A. LOT. Like 16,000 a lot. After looking at several houses, my honey bun chose a house in HELL which held great appeal for him, since he likes to flirt with Death and laughs in the face of danger.
In an effort to show that crazy man ‘o mine that there were other houses out there – better houses, houses that weren’t demonicly possessed and intent on assault and battery – I found this gem:
And I liked her. And Mr. Mystery said, “If you won’t buy her, I will.” So I did.
Don’t let her fool you, people. My gal has potential. P to the -otential, fer reals. And at $15,000, I am willing to forgive a lot.
Yep, you read that right. 15 G’s, my friends. 15 measly thousands for 3 floors, 15 windows, 15 stairs (20 if you count the stoop), 3 bedrooms, 2 rotting porches, 1 bathroom, 1 kitchen, 1 pantry, 1 living room (with 2 French pocket doors, mon Dieu!), 1 dining room, 1 kitchen, and 1 scary-the-hell-ass basement. And 0 furnaces.
“But Canary,” you say with concern, “French pocket doors are nice, but a cheap house is not worth risking your personal safety. Consider the neighborhood!” You tell me with a sage shake of your head, ”You can’t put a price on safety.”
Au contraire, mon frere. I CAN put a price on safety, and that price? It’s $15,000.
But to put all y’all minds at ease, let me tell you a little about my new kingdom. It’s name? ‘Tis Westport. It’s located in South Baltimore on the Middle Branch of the Patapsco River. If you make a right at the RESCO waste processing facility, go over the railroad tracks, and drive past the electrical plant, you’ll be in Westport. If you look around, you’ll likely be underwhelmed.
But starting next year, Westport is going to be a hotbed of activity. The Turner Development Group is turning my new neighborhood into something grand. Something illustrious. Something with an 80,000 SF hotel, luxury apartments, high-end townhomes, and more restaurants than you can shake a stick at. They’re turning it into something they’re calling Westport Waterfront. And when that development happens, my wee $15K house will catapult itself to something worthy of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. Or MTV’s Cribs. If, you know, I get a furnace by that time.
So tonight I sign the contract and in 45 days I will have the keys to my very own renovation project. All those stairs, all those windows, all those no-furnaces… MINE. ALL MINE.
I AM: CREATING my first home.
“We find what we expect to find, and we receive what we ask for.” – Elbert Hubbard
Good morning, my feathered friends! Today I am starting the day with a request. I am beginning our Thursday by asking you, my lovelies, for some help with an ongoing problem I can’t fix. I have tried many things to solve this problem, short of doing ”it” (otherwise known as “the solution”) myself, but nothing has proven effective. I was about to sacrifice something to the Help Me gods when a thought occurred to me. This was the thought: ”Canary, before you go slaughtering lambs and feral cats, try asking the Internet. If anyone can help you, it’s them, and they (probably) won’t require a blood sacrifice to do it.”
And so here I am, asking you, dear Internet, for help. Amongst you hella talented people lies the answer to my prayers.
This is what I need: an illustration of a hockey player. Like this one:
Easy, right? I thought so, too, which is why I went to iStockphoto and purchased just the illustration I needed for my project. That one you see right up there. I used the illustration in my design, it was well-received, it went into use, the world cheered and applauded, and then I had a middle-of-the-night panic attack about the whole thing which sent me to my computer where I did a little post-use research and learned that I couldn’t actually use the illustration for what I used it for, i.e. a logo.
Hot damn, that was a long sentence.
Anyhoo, I contacted the illustrator of the hockey player image, a fellow who goes by the name SlipFloat, and presented my problem: I purchased the image, I used the image in a logo design, but then I learned that I couldn’t use the image for a logo design, and now I needed help. SlipFloat was all cool and breezy. He thanked me for purchasing his work, he said that he had no problem with my using his illustration for a logo, that he thought helping designers with their work was what iStockphoto was all about, right?
Uh, not so much. At least not when it comes to logos.
I contacted iStock just to be sure, and they said, “Oh hells no. Thou shalt not use the hockey player illustration for thy logo.” Except that they said it nicely and professionally, and a little less Biblically.
Without a solid license for the image’s use, I have the following options:
- Change the design of the logo so that the hockey player image isn’t part of it;
- Have the illustrator create a similar illustration, which I would purchase outside of iStockphoto; or
- Have someone else create a hockey player for me.
Number 1 isn’t really an option because my nephew loves the logo as it was designed, and has already had shirts and jackets made up with it.
I tried option 2, but I haven’t heard back from SlipFloat.
Option 3 is also a no-go, as I have contacted illustrators I’ve used in the course of my Real Job (the thing I get paid to do and which gives me healthcare), but nothing has come of it.
Which brings us to this moment in which I am soliciting the Internet for help.
Can one of you amazingly talented Internet persons draw me a hockey player, kind of like the one above? It doesn’t have to be the same – I could trace the mammajamma if I wanted to be illegal about it – but something akin to it? Something swooshy and silhouettey? I work in Corel Draw 15 (don’t mock me), so the final file will need to be a .cdr or .eps. I can also use .ai (Illustrator) files.
I can throw a little money your way, but it won’t be much. My customer is my nephew, after all. We’re not Rockefellers, here.
If you’re interested or if you know of someone who might be able to help me out, please let me know. Thanks, y’all! You’re all super and I love you.
SUBTITLE: Hello, and Welcome to My Bo… uh, Blog
There once was a girl who dreamed grand dreams of Creating and Writing and Doing, who embarked upon a blogging journey in the hopes of becoming a famous craft blogger.
“Craft blogger?” you ask, incredulous. “Surely you jest,” you say, uncertain.
Oh yes, my finely feathered friends, the dreamer is I and the blogging of crafts was my dream. Little did you know that I began blogging oh-so-long ago with the intention of leaping tall buildings in a single bound and piecing a quilt in two hours flat. See? Even after all of these years I have the power to surprise you. But within two weeks of starting GreenCanary, I abandoned all hopes of being crafty – (okay, perhaps not so surprising after all) – and accepted instead that I was a writer, not a crafter, and that my future lay in piecing together words, not quilts.
But fame and fortune were slow in coming. I toiled away, hunting and pecking my way through post after post, snarking and complaining and waxing poetic about Coca Cola, Harry Potter, strange dead animal smells, and my first Documented Car Accident (DCA). (My blog would eventually chronicle three different car accidents, as well as the Unfortunate Incident in which State Farm dumped my negligent ass.)
But the thing that brought you, dear readers, to my blog wasn’t my wit, nor my wisdom, nor the beauty of my words. Rather, you came for my boobs, you saucy pervs.
On June 14, 2006, I published a post entitled “Hello, and welcome to my boobs.” That pivotal post quoted Seneca, the Roman philosopher, and detailed how I had, in a moment of curiosity and genius, hauled my boobs atop a food scale to determine the weight of my chest.
As it turned out, you debauched readers were curious as well. For the first time I had comments. COMMENTERS. Readers! Oh! Sweet delicious readers, how you gave my heart joy! I felt connected to the Blogosphere for the first time and the euphoria of that connection was intoxicating.
Seven pounds of breast launched me on the tumultuous journey of blogging, and propelled me into love with you, my wonderful Internet compadres. But it was your once upon a time’s, your wit, your wisdom, and the beauty of your words that nourished our love and made us friends. (And in some cases, stalkers. You know who you are.)
Welcome to the new GreenCanary, and to the next stage of my life. This iteration of my blog will have fewer car accidents (knock on wood), just as many harebrained schemes and lists of resolutions, and lots more Loving, Losing, Growing, Creating, Seeing, Doing, and Learning. And a whole lot more (over) sharing! Let’s not forget the (over) sharing.
I’m positively punch-drunk with excitement, y’all.
Oh yes indeedie.
I AM: CREATING a new blog