
Getting to March feels like real triumph, especially up here at the farm.
I said to Eric the other day (having just arrived back at farm from city) "I really like the city. And I don't like it here. Is that OK?"
He said yes, and I felt better. Sometimes I think its good to just admit a situation sucks, instead of trying to pretend it's fine. Look, I'm not going to change my situation, not going to give up on the hardships of the farm. But I am going to admit that I don't like it right now, that it sucks right now. Like models probably do that a lot. They probably all stand around backstage at fashion week and say to each other "Modeling just sucks!!"
Go on girls, say how it is. How it feels.

There's little things I could do to make it better. One trouble here is that we haven't taken the time to make our house at the farm feel very comfortable. It's a project half finished. Because in my job I'm always making things look good for other people, I forget to do this for myself. Or, I just don't want to. Or in this case, we just ran out of money to do it. That's ok too. It really sucks to run out of money! But it does make us more creative, and that's a good thing I think. If we had tons of money how boring would that be!
Without a real kitchen, we are still cooking our meals outside on a grill. Which is fine, except for when I get out of the shower at 7pm and have to put all my clothes back on to go out and stir a pan of brussels sprouts and the temperature is 2 degrees. Fahrenheit. My friends made a joke that I should make a cookbook all about grilling. Apparently someones already done that and called it Seven Fires. Well, I'm going to work on a book called Eight Fires. Because I'm competitive like that.


Eric is very good at this winter energy stuff. He can watch basketball and listen to the radio and read all day long, stopping to do chores or make a bag of microwave popcorn. (We have a microwave)(Note to self: need more microwave recipes. Another book opportunity? Microwave recipes for the hipster Millennial set! NEED: a beautiful handcrafted microwave...made out of soapstone...)

When Eric eats popcorn he takes one piece at a time and eats it. One. Kernel. At. A. Time. Its like a fucking meditation in popcorn consumption. When I eat popcorn I take a fistful and like to shove the entire fistful in my mouth at once. This is how we're different. "You're going to choke on popcorn one day!" he says. What can I say I like to to live fast and furiously.
I fantasize about my obituary...
"...impatient #farmerflorist, noted author of #Eightfires and proponent of #artisanalmicrowavecookery dies alone in cold unfinished farmhouse. The scene was littered in dead flowers and popcorn."
This is going to be the last week of this weather, I just know it. I look forward to vest weather and sweater weather ...so when I get dressed to go outside I don't look like the invisible man. Modeling just sucks!
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And now a bit of SAiPUA housekeeping...
I'm heading back to the city to work on some projects and teach our big Weddings Mastery class. I love these intense classes because I get to rap and rap and rap about the industry with likeminded eager beavers who actually want to listen (as opposed to poor Eric who tires quick of flower world stuff).
Mark your calendars for our annual HOUSE PLANT SALE: SUNDAY MARCH 30th. I've already been buying plants, I'm going to bring a lot of my old big girls to sell and we're going to have some really beautiful special plant-y things on offer. For example, the most perfect Japanese clippers! I'll be leaking more details over the next few weeks...

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