Today I fired our gardener, called our financial planner, made an ultrasound appointment, and asked the cleaning lady to dust the ceiling fans. I don't know whose life this is, but it's starting to feel serious.
I just lied to you. I didn't fire the gardener. I need to grow a pair.
I used to be a single girl in San Francisco, and after that, a single girl in LA, before that I was a baby in Michigan. But then I met Nipper Knapp. We played guitars and smoked cigarettes (me for real, Nipper Knapp not so much), and listened to Wilco, and took pictures, and laughed at each others jokes, and travelled all over, and then we had a BABY. After the initial shock of our lives being rocked like a Scorpion song, we've settled into a new set of wildly entertaining endeavors, that I think the world needs to know about.
So who is Mrs. Nipper Knapp? A photographer, an actor, a dancer, a dreamer, a doer, a butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker. Actually I'm a really sarcastic shell of a person, who can barely contain my disdain for my fellow man. I'm a real people person. I sell stuff on tv. I love weddings. I like to embroider pillowcases, and grow corn in my backyard, and eat tacos. I'm obsessed with midcentury design, and lots of other things that white people are into. I'm a midwesterner living in Los Angeles, and I'm never going back. Except Christmas and Summer. I'm a Christmas and Easter midwesterner. Did I mention I grow corn...