As defined by Urban Dictionary: Steampunk is a subgenre of speculative fiction, usually set in an anachronistic Victorian or quasi-Victorian alternate history setting. It could be described by the slogan “What the past would look like if the future had happened sooner.” It includes fiction with science fiction, fantasy or horror themes. Starting with niche cosplay and con-goer groups decked out in bustles, corsets, monocles, and top hats, the Steampunk lifestyle has been slowly filtering into our daily lives. Today, you can’t walk into a coffee shop or target without seeing a hipster with an overly ornate mustache. Anthropologie’s current clothing line is pretty much the perfect mixture of hipster, earth goddess, 50’s housewife and steampunk mistress. When it comes to fashions for the home, it’s in vogue to buy items that are carefully, and artistically hand crafted, worn in, and just a little bit funky. While many proclaimed Steampunkers are very into the DIY movement, I’ve found many a website to help you spend your hard earned cash on beautiful bespoke pieces…and in my next blog, you can see how I DIYed one of these projects step-by-step. Now, I’m not suggesting your turn your house into this place: But, adding a dash of Victorian sophistication can add a lot more interest to your lovely abode. William Morris, the father of the Art and Crafts Movement, quoted, ““If you want a golden rule that will fit everything, this is it: Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.” To start, here are some clever instances where people have made modern day pieces look so much more beautiful. I believe that with enough creativity and thought, one can turn the most ugly of objects into...

I’m have eight weeks until my due date and one new thing that my pregnancy has taught me is what I’m going to be like when I’m an old lady.  Around 29 weeks I just woke up one day and turned into a crotchety version of myself. Here are the things that show me what I am going to be like when I’m in my retirement years: By 4pm everyday I’m ready to lie in bed and I don’t just want to get in bed, I want to get in bed and eat cookies all night long (I usually resist this urge, but I think I’ll give into this one day soon). I have zero tolerance for strangers and anything that comes out of their mouths, unless they are super nice or super cute, and then I’ll smile back. I have hot flashes. Getting up out of a seat is now a form of exercise. When anyone asks how I’m doing I stopped saying the standard and polite fine, instead I say “I’m not going to lie to you, I’m uncomfortable.” I get outraged by other’s actions even when it has nothing to do with me. I’ve become an emotional driver—sometimes I get angry and sometimes I cry. I drive slower now. I am constantly worried that someone is out to hurt me (but not in a crazy I won’t get out of the house way, in an automatically block my stomach when walking around strangers way).  In fairness to me some ass elbowed me in the stomach during my trip to Vegas. I forget what I’m saying mid-sentence. Even if what I was going to say was important, I still never remember what it was.  Drives me nuts! If I have a dream...

That is the item at the top of my to-do list today. So I spent the morning in the backyard, squatting in the blazing sun, gathering piles of dried dog doo and several pounds of fallen apples, into a giant garbage bag. Ya know – l.i.v.i.n. – livin’. Next on that list is that is ‘run to the cemetery’, followed by ‘biscuits, noodle casserole and cookies’. That may seem like a odd, and random, list of to-do’s, but life out in the country is definitely odd and random. I’ve been in rural Colorado since August 4th, staying at my Mom’s house and helping her recover from hip-replacement surgery. My mom has lived in this house for the past 34 years, things are pretty settled in here. The dog poop creator is a 14 year old blue-healer mix named Belle. Belle is mellow and extremely well behaved, aside from a little age-related incontinence (ya gotta watch where you step if she sleeps on the kitchen floor for over a ½ hour). Belle wakes me up at 5:17 a.m., on the dot, every morning to be let into the massive back yard, where she runs to the very back corner and does what dogs do in the morning. Then she comes back into the house and eye-balls me, weighing me with guilt, until I get her leash and we go on our run. In Haxtun, the cemetery is on the West edge of town, up against a corn field. That’s where everybody walks to and around in the morning. It’s where Belle and I head to before the heat swells up and takes over this tiny town. Once we get there, she is unleashed. In younger days, she would run, heady with freedom and in search...

My smart phone officially and irrevocably became too smart for its own good on Thursday night at 2:30 AM.  I woke to a light beep and blinking indicator.  I picked up my phone where it sat, functioning as an alarm clock, on my bedside crate.  Instead of the clock I expected to see glowing on the LCD capacitive touch screen, a picture of a smiling green gingerbread man stared back at me. Gingerbread, Android’s new operating system, had arrived.  And he was ready to move in.  Very exciting for the faintly closeted tech fetishist. A few quick button presses, a brief wait, and my phone had become a Gingerbread house.  Casting the remnants of sleep aside, I plunged into my upgraded phone with abandon.  The keyboard had gained the ability to adapt to the maladroit proddings of my chubby fingers, the new app store lived up to expectations, the maps loaded faster, power management was much improved, the refreshed icons with their eerie green glow gave me a sense of comfort, reassuring me that technology was marching forward, filling old shells with new power and capacity.  Gingerbread had seamlessly integrated, my existing configurations and applications were unaffected apart from running more efficiently. “Gingerbread,” I said, lightly caressing the burnished silver phone, “You are amazing.” Just as I spoke, my phone buzzed.  Not in response to my words, of course.  Just a coincidence.  Surely. I cradled my Gingerbread and drifted off to sleep for another hour. When I woke up, I discovered that Gingerbread had made a small, almost unnoticeable change to one of my widgets.  I have several traffic widgets installed on my homescreen.  They’re kind of awesome.  I press the button and the widget tells me how long it will take me to...