Internet: meet Lola, my child-with-fur.
Don’t worry, you will hear plenty about her in the future.
If it’s spangled, feathered or dipped in chocolate—I’ll love it.
If it can be made on the cheap—even better.
Hey you! I’m Peaches: new aunt, artist, wannabe photographer, expert city dweller, World Class Diet Coke Connoisseur. My hands are always moving. My toenails are tangerine. I’m really good at procrastinating. Can’t remember the last time my sink wasn’t filled with dirty dishes. Didn’t get my driver’s license until a was twenty-nine. Did I mention it was my third attempt?
I don’t own an alarm clock. I wake up to church bells and cat hair. I spend way too much time watching late-night reruns of The Cosby Show. But really I spend most of the time time feeling like a bucktoothed country mouse in a sea of uber-cool city mice. Folks round here make fun of me for using terms like y’all and beauty salon and peckerwood and please and thank you. It’s ok because I make fun of them for using sausage as a verb.
People pay me to sit in an office where they give me stuff and say make it pretty. Yup, it’s awesome. Despite the creative awesomeness of The Job, I need a place to write about cool crap, like my cat’s new party hat and glitter encrusted disco dinosaurs. Welcome to my blog.