I’ve run out of my stash of Diana Vreeland portraits, so I’m going to start these posts with a picture of ME for you. From the depths of my selfie stash, I give you this:
Why don’t you buy a bunch of paints and canvases and teach yourself to paint like your favorite artists? I’d like to paint like a combination of Monet, Van Gogh, and Munch. Wouldn’t that be an odd thing?
Why don’t you buy some nice things for work, like a professional espresso machine or a good toaster oven or one of those pizza spinner oven things? We spend more time at work than we do at home sometimes, so it’s nice to have decent crap to make the day better.
Why don’t you support a dying industry, the portrait studio, and go get some ridiculous head shots taken? It’s such fun to pull cheesy poses in front of a photographer. It’s especially fun to do something in the style of Glamour Shots. Does that place exist anymore? I’m obsessed with their pictures.
Why don’t you cook your way through Julia Child’s, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, like the wonderful Martha Stewart and that clever woman that got a movie made out of her life and probably met Meryl Streep? The recipes are always excellent and it’s quite fun to pretend to be Julia while you hunch over a simmering sauce.
Why don’t you give yourself permission to give up on a dream or something you don’t care for anymore? I went to pastry school, and I enjoy baking, but I don’t like it the way I did. I used to want to work in my own bakery making croissants and macarons and delicious breads. But, baking annoys me now unless I’m really in the mood, and that has made me feel so guilty. But, I’m over it. I feel great now. I only like making macarons anymore.