A-V-H

For my 22nd birthday, my co-worker, G., bought me the bag pictured to the right.

Gorgeous, right? And this picture only barely does the fabric's colors justice. Up close they're even more beautiful and vibrant. Best of all is that the bag has more than enough room for day-to-day needs plus at least one book, all without being obnoxiously huge and cumbersome.

Verzat, the company that sells this bag and many others (as well as a huge selection of beautiful jewelry), was started by some of G.'s friends after they graduated from university. Based in G.'s hometown of Lima, Peru, Verzat is - for the time being - more than a little cut off from the US market, but my sense is that everything these girls are making has huge market potential.

Unless I'm completely insane, and the American public has become so mechanical as to be immune to beautiful handmade alternatives to the mass-produced crap that's constantly marketed as attractive and "unique." Blech.

In other news, today was hot hot hot, which, quite frankly, caught me off-guard. We've had such pleasant weather here in the District these past few weeks, but suddenly it's over 90° outside during the day and the humidity is through the roof (read: 65% - what do you want from me, I'm Californian!).

The only way to deal with this kind of weather is to take a shower immediately after being outside, thus voila, today's PotD. For the record, I have no clue as to how my tan lines are still so visible. I haven't even seen the ocean this summer (which is tragic), and I spend most of the sunlit hours at the office. Hm.

Aside from working and showering, the other noteworthy aspect of my day was speeding through the first 88 pages of Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point. It's a book that's been recommended to me many, many, many times, but that - for whatever reason - I've never really looked into until today.

(And this is after letting a copy sit unused on my bookshelf for at least two months!)

Anyway, so far, I've found it to be quite fascinating. The part of me who's still a huge American History geek loves that Gladwell uses Paul Revere as an ongoing example for the chapter about the Law of the Few - makes me want to pick up some huge American History tome. Come to think of it, I have Chernow's biography of Alexander Hamilton sitting on the bottom shelf of my desk...hm.

But back to Gladwell: I'll reserve further thoughts until after I've finished reading, but the preliminary verdict is that it's obvious why The New Yorker took him on as a staff writer, and I'm very glad I'm reading this book now, when I'm at a point in my life when its subject matter is relevant in a more than theoretical way.

It is now about 5:30PM. Nap, anyone?

And by everything else, I mean "This Heart Attack," by the Australian band Faker.

Aussie M. sent this song to me last week, and since then, I've listened to it at least once a day. The singer's voice is reminiscent of the 1980s, and as a whole the song is very listenable and catchy. If it were from any country other than Australia, I'd say expect to hear it on the radio sometime soon, but sadly, Aussie music just doesn't make its way to the States as frequently as it should.

That right there is me. About two weeks ago I undid nearly two years of discipline by asking my hairstylist of choice (an ex-Army guy named J.K. who has stories that are nearly as crazy as his always-spikily-coiffed hair) to chop my well-past-shoulder length hair down to size. What I wound up with something that looks pseudo-Posh Spice when styled and, well, as you can see the rest (read: most) of the time.

Anyway, for the most part, I like the look. I should probably consider investing in a blow dryer at some point in the near future, for those special days when I can't go around looking like I just woke up, but other than that I like it.

Hm...so there was a point to me talking about my hair. Oh right. That picture is of me, and it was taken today, shortly after I got home from work. It's also the first in what I hope will be a series of 365 individual pictures. I've never been a fan of being photographed, but the iSight camera is a vain girl's dream and it makes me feel like I have no excuse for non-documentation - even more so when my dad sends me one line e-mails asking for pictures of his "first born."

*sigh*

I guess my hope is that making the pictures into some semblance of a project will help me remember to take them in the first place. Not to mention that it'll be pretty cool to look back on down that metaphorical road.