I'm still tired from Sunday night. Why? Because I am lucky enough to be friends with Chris who on top of being one of the nicest guys I know, also sometimes invites me to be his +1 for various shows. So on top of getting to catch up with Chris, I then get the added treat of hearing lots of great bands live. So all around awesome for me.

Sunday was no exception for the Tokyo Police Club show. I can't remember the first band up. To be honest, Chris and I sat on a couch and downed vodka drinks until we realized we should get off our asses and claim primo spots by the stage. Chris had a review to write and I am short.

The next act up was Smoosh, a band made up of three sisters aged 16, 14, and 12. (Overachievers?) Once I got my jaw off the floor, I really appreciated their set.





Then TPC hit the stage. TPC is one of those bands who I don't turn off when I hear on the radio, but I've never dragged myself out to buy their CD either. However, after hearing the guys rock it on stage like nothing else, I am a TPC convert.





You can read Chris' full review here. Best line: "Remember kids: slam dancing should be like sex; it is only acceptable if everyone involved consents." In fact, I may go back and read the review over again just for that line alone.

My fingers are crossed for a gloriously sun-drenched weekend like last weekend's warm treat. It will make me feel better for spending most of it hunched over my computer putting together advertising comps for my wedding business. Nothing like last-minute deadlines to put a downer on a perfect weekend.

Clyde and I did make time after work on Friday to take our puppies to the park.



Rerun's favorite thing is to run in the green grass. As soon as he hits a patch, he is off full-speed. He likes it even better when Clyde runs with him.



It was too hot for the puppies in their scraggly winter coats. (It took me four hours on Sunday to groom them down to summer coats). Check out Kevin's panting-tongue action.



Rerun was annoyed as I kept trying to get him to pose for the camera.



In between the long hours spent working on advertisements and giving the puppies long overdue haircuts, we also squeezed in a yummy dinner with our friends Zach and Christina. Zach is an excellent cook and treated us to a delicious lamb tomato stew. I think if I keep pestering him enough, he will cave in and share the recipe with me. We also zipped over for a quick stop at the two-year birthday party for the daughter of some friends. Scary thought: we have officially reached the age where everyone we know has children, is pregnant, or is trying. Clyde and I will continue to concentrate on having the cutest puppies in the world as we are not quite ready to grow up.

Last September, we had the dirt pit that was our backyard paved over with stones. Now we are the lucky owners of a lovely patio, which we have yet to use due to the lack of patio furniture and bad timing. Who else, but us, would get our patio installed just in time for an autumn of cold, rainy days? But now it is getting to the time of year I love best in Seattle. Welcome back dear precious sun (although it is raining hard today).

Next problem - deciding on patio furniture. Clyde and I have spent much too long negotiating which patio furniture to get. I like this one from Crate & Barrel. Clyde does not like this the $1.6K price tag.



After much debate, we have pretty much settled on this set from Walmart.



Yes, I hear you Walmart haters out there groaning at me. If it makes you feel better, the set we are getting is FSC-certified, which as the marketing copy from Walmart explains "The Forest Stewardship Council (FSC) promotes environmentally appropriate, socially beneficial and economically viable management of the world's forests. By choosing an FSC product, you can be confident that you are protecting the forests by not contributing to the destruction of them." So we're not being entirely stupid.

Or maybe I will get the courage up this weekend to brave the IKEA crowds and find some fabulous patio furniture there. I have been eyeing the cute Greno cushions for quite some time. I think if I could just transplant the following pics into my backyard, we'll be set.





And then maybe I will get up the courage to throw Clyde a barbecue for his upcoming birthday. Maybe.

If I was at home right now without a million deadlines looming over my head, I would no doubt be spending countless hours making myself little paper Kelly bags. If you, like me wouldn't mind your very own Hermes, you can find the templates here. There are eight designs to choose from including a plain white design you can make all your own.

I made a collage on hot pink paper when I was in fifth grade after my family returned from a stint living in Seoul, Korea. In the center is a photo of my sister and me sprawled out on the grass by the Han River, underneath the words, "Sisters are friends forever."

My sister and I have a tumultous relationship. We're always saying the wrong thing to each other. She thinks it is her personal duty to monitor my fluctuations in weight and tell me so. I think it is my personal duty to frequently wax poetical about consequences. I've been there, I've done that, I've cried in too many public bathroom. She wants to make her own mistakes. I want to save her from them. She'll "borrow" my favorite sweaters and skirts. I'll go on covert missions to steal them back and then remind her how lucky she is to have me my closet. But through it all, I know my sister will always be there to for me. No matter what, she will always love me, cry with me, spend the best chunk of her time laughing at me, and call me with that special wheedling tone in her voice when she wants something. (And I will try with all my might to not hang up on her).

Six and a half weeks ago my sister quit her job, packed up her life, and moved to Korea. She told me "I want to have an adventure." Last night, she booked a ticket back. Apparently, her adventuring days are over.

The good news is we'll both save money as we can now fight in person instead of paying our phone companies for the privilige.

My unprofessional recap of the Kate Nash show:

• Kate Nash is at her best when she sings songs like Merry Happy. I like her slightly vulnerable and sweet. The rest of the time, she seemed to lack the energy to carry off her rowdier songs.


• Witnessing two girls and a guy get in a squabble over a recently-vacated bar stool is kinda amusing. Witnessing said squabble end with guy chucking bar stools at girls is not as amusing.


• Getting drenched in beer backsplash is really not amusing. Apparently another girl wanted to claim the bar stool and decided to stake their claim by throwing beer on other two girls. She missed. I got to stand in wet pants for the rest of the show.


• Bouncer throwing multiple people get thrown out of concert for bad behavior does not make up for having wet pants.


• This guy and his female companion did not want to be bothered by me. I saw him taking notes and wanted to know where I could read his review of the show. It's here. They likely thought I was some weird stalker type when really I'm just weird.


• Every girl should have their name up in big pink neon lights. I'm still waiting my turn.

Maggie at MightyGirl posted "7 Skills Every Woman Should Master". This list hits home not because I'm so skilled at throwing like a girl (I totally do and I'm okay with that), but because I am contemplating breaking up with a poisonous friend. Or maybe not. I'm not so good in the growing a spine department so I may end up just logging more therapy hours.

Life is not all bad. I came home yesterday to a Sephora box sitting on my doorstep.* My lovely friend Dana sent me this Philosophy gift set to cheer me up. She was thanking me for being her friend. Really, I should be thanking her!



*My first thought when I saw the lovely package was, "Oh crap, what did I buy?" Clyde was with me and he likes to lecture me on cutting back on spending.

I have a list of all the things I would like a chance to get to do in this lifetime. Today I am adding this:

Visit the Okinawan island Taketomi and bring back my own star sand. Then when days are bad, I can examine little bits of star sand and remember how every small thing can change you.

I will post the list someday. Then you can help me keep track of how full my life is.

There is a guy in New York who can send me star send. All I have to do is give him $1,626. But I think I will aim to go on my own adventure. He has lots of stuff of other stuff for sale though so maybe you want to check him out.

Had dinner at Cafe Presse last night. Not quite like passing the evening in a Parisian cafe. However, the more $4 glasses of wine you drink, the more you won't care.

In response to a friend deploring the lack of pinata in her life:
You can. That is the beauty of being able to buy happiness. In fact, I think you should keep a stash of pinatas around for those moments when happiness needs to be fueled by bashing something. I have five little ones waiting in my garage for just such occasions.



Today is Cinco de Mayo. You know that. Unless, like me, you've been living under a rock without a calendar. At one point, I was raring up to throw a Cinco de Mayo bash complete with a big gigundo pinata. Really, the party was just an excuse to have a pinata. But then I never got around to sending out the evite or cleaning the toilets and before I knew it, today is Cinco de Mayo and I'm still rather enjoying my time under this rock. So instead my five little pinatas will have to wait until next year.

Clyde seems to rather enjoy lounging around in his undies. Almost as much as I like living in my wine-stained sweat pants. To encourage Clyde to keep his pants on, I bought him jammies. The first pair were purchased last November as we were staying at my friend Dana's place in Paris and I had a suspicion she might not appreciate my husband walking around her chic flat in his skivvies. Since then I have bought him three more jammie pants to encourage him, mostly because I can't be bothered to shut our blinds in the evening. Said jammie pants can usually be found on our dresser, bedroom floor, and hanging off the end of the bed - pretty much anywhere but on.

So yesterday, our puppy Kevin decided he'd had enough of these travelling pajama pants and instead grabbed them up with his ittle teeth and dug, dug, dug, until he'd made a pajama pant bed. And I thought, "good for you at least someone appreciates my awesome jammie picking skills."


Bonnie: and I guess I will say yes to the party
‎‎Clyde: you dont have to
‎‎Bonnie: b/c otherwise you may behave inappropriately w/o me
‎‎Clyde‎: i might
‎‎Bonnie: yeah it's hard to get you to keep your pants on
‎‎Clyde: nuh uh!
‎‎Bonnie: um it totally is and you know it


I take his lack of response as acquiescence... either that or defeat.

The husband is a poker addict. However, if you ask the husband about the poker addiction he will fully deny. (First sign: denial.) Then, he will huff and puff and get quite defensive and list out two gazillion reasons why he is not an addict, only an enthusiast. So today my dear husband suggested the following dinner option:

Clyde: pizza tonight?
‎Bonnie: yes pizza
Clyde: ya know who has good pizza?
‎‎Bonnie: who?
Clyde: [name] casino. its the best!!

Apparently his enthusiasm extends to bad buffet style pizza.