Did this for Ashley's dare. Lovin the challenge! I thought I would challenge myself and create a totally digital LO. The photo was enhanced with Virtual Photographer (a totally free program) and everything was created with PSE 3.0. I still have a lot to learn, but I think I'm getting there. Everything was trial and error. I'm having a hard time trying to make Bazzill like cardstock. Any suggestions?
Last night, I was in a panic. I was feeling myself up for a self-boobie exam and felt something kinda hard and pointy on my right chest. After many trips around my arreolas (arreoli?), I was hyperventilating. My mom had breast cancer, my grandmother had breast cancer. Now it was my turn. Oh, great. This was all I need. Got an endocrinal system malfunction. Got a blocked fallopian tube. Bad things always comes in threes. Here we go. OK, felt the left side again and I have the pointy thing on that side, too. After feeling the right and then the left again my mind was working overtime trying to remember everything in my Anatomy and Physiology class. I knew I should have paid attention. Duh. I came to a realization. Them are ribs. For me, I thought they only existed in skinny people. I never felt them before since my rolls were always in the way, but indeed, it is true. After some weight loss, I see that I am the proud owner of at least 2 of them. Hallelujah!
Took these photos today of my cousin and her fiance. I got a new 50mm/1.8f Canon lens and tried it out outside in the shade. Check out the catchlights in Melissa's eyes. I played with Curves in Photoshop, too. Love that!
I'm a crack ho and I don't care... I'm a crack ho and I don't care... I'm a crack ho and I don't care... (sung to the tune of Jimmy Crack Corn)
The nurses at work were snapping their fingers and swaying to this little diddy all night long in honor of the clientele we have been having at work. A lot of them haven't had the world's best introduction into the world. They are products of drug addict moms and alcoholics. Users and abusers. Yet their ovaries and fallopian tubes manage to spawn the cutest babies. For me this just sucks the big weenie. Here I am trying to have one of my own. I try to eat healthy. I don't drink (ok, I CAN'T drink). I don't smoke. I don't shoot up heroin. I don't snort cocaine. This really ticks me off. I am extremely proud and happy for the people who treat their children like gold, take care of themselves and their family, those who are productive members of the world. But it is ridiculous that these people with absolutely no regard for life can copulate and are continously blessed with bundles of joy. Maybe that's my problem. I don't smoke crack and I'm not a ho.
I want these new papers from Chatterbox real baaad. I don't need them because Lord knows I still have the collection from the last CHA stored away with the rest of my paper stash and I really don't need to purchase anything anymore because that would mean I would have to pack them up. But I still covet these new papers. Sigh.
I really should be in bed. Gotta work tonight but had to scrapbook just a little bit. Did this 6x6 page for my locker at work. Played with Photoshop brushes and printed the wallet sized photos with my HP Photo Printer. I dread going to work tonight but it's better than packing.
I moved into my condo 2 years ago before I was married. Even before I got engaged. I thought I would be living at this place awhile and because of this I was under no rush unpacking all my stuff. Today, I started packing for next month's big move. While at the same time unpacking from my last move. How does anyone own so much crap? Did I really need to pack away a bottle of shampoo only to find that it only stored a dollop, or save scented candles with missing wicks, or hoarde gift bags from Big Lots, or keep thousands and thousands of WalMart shopping bags? Would I save the world by keeping balls of rubber bands and plastic holiday cookie cutters? When did I collect tons of tupperware and gladware? When did I become my mother?! I guess I would rather throw crap in boxes and lug it from place to place than sit there and sort through all my clutter. That would mean making decisions. Should I keep this or throw it out? I might just need this one day. It's the indecisive Libra in me.
Know this: I HATE moving! It is my absolute nemesis. Moving and I just don't get along. In other words, I would rather tweeze all my pubic hairs one by one in public than pack and move. And I always seem to pick the worst months to do it. The last time it was July. I thought my face was going to melt off. This time it is August. Not much difference with the heat factor in Vegas. That's extra sweat allotment that I have to give up. I'm sweating now. No thanks. I'd just as soon hire big, burly men to pack up all my stuff and move it for me. But that would mean giving up a couple of thousand dollars to do it. Then the bottom line is: am I cheap or am I just lazy? At least you can't call me easy.
Grace is one of the most giving and thoughtful people I know. We have a lot in common. We're both short, Filipino (although that is synonymous with short), nurses, and most importantly, scrapbookers. She is my scrapbook buddy and most recently, my blog pimp. We haven't been able to get together as much as we should due to work schedules but we gotta change that soon!