Monday's. No one likes them. You want weekend. You're hungover from poor choices that everyone knows not to make on a Sunday. You're feet hurt from those heels you never wear because they're too tall and too painful. I don't work my "real" job on Monday's.. but Monday's are still hard. How do I work when I am surrounded by my two amazing, cutest in the world, dogs? annnnd my couch? annnd an all access pass to my computer all day long. Sometimes I don't. For what it's worth(nothing) I think about working a lot. It is so hard to find motivation in the AZ summer heat. And this heat came along way too early this year. Oh, poor girl and all of her horrible problems.

The heat. It has me thinking about moving. Not that that is anything new in the mind of Ashley, but it has me at that spontaneous, jump off the couch, pack my bags, grab the dogs and go feeling of moving. Many of us know that if I could swing it, I would be in Colorado tomorrow. Oh sweet, gorgeous, amazing weather, peaceful, mountains trees and shit, earthy Colorado in all of its glory. Forever and ever. Amen.
Please, send me some winning lottery tickets if you'd like to help me get there.
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Oh, sorry. See what I have to put up with? Frank just decided her head looked better on my keyboard. She often finds it to be a wonderful pillow. I'm waiting for the day I come home and she has taken photo booth pictures of herself.. or maybe she'll send me an email...

"Dear Mom,
I somehow managed to sleep an entire day away again. The house is hot. You're cheap. Turn down the freaking air. Also, Indy is on the couch and pooped in the shower.

xoxox, you're the best dog mom ever.

Love, Frank

P.S. Thank you for giving me such a manly name, I know, that you know, that everyone at the dog park questions my gender. Asshole."

Darling, sweetheart of a dog, I tell you. 


How can you resist?

And then there's Indy. Nicknamed by everyone that meets him, "catdog," he has a loving, sweet, and amazingly fun personality, I promise. He just doesn't care about you, that's all... unless you aren't a dog person. Then he's all over you like green on grass. I always find it amusing that every guy that ever hangs out with him adores him. This is surprising because he's ten pounds. And well, lets face it.. small dogs make men... all I can think of is.. stupid. Men get stupid about small dogs because well, they're men, and they like beasty, gnarly, big, stupid dogs. Ah, there's the correlation. Stupid. I knew it all tied together somehow.
Indy's bark is deep, his dog friends are always the largest he can find, and I often tell my mom that he was sent to me by my grandfather. If my grandfather ever came back as an animal, he is my dog. As mental as it makes me sound, I like thinking it's possible... and I know if he had the power to do something as wonderful as that for me, well, he would.
I'm also pretty sure that if he got hit by the honey I shrunk the kids laser he would resemble a hampster, not a dog. 
Austin hates when I let him get this ratty. I love it. I don't brush him. I don't bath him. I don't trim him. I just let him lay around dirty in all of his ten pound manliness. Plus is goes with his personality. In the dog world, I'm certain it's important to be true to yourself.

As far as my jewelry goes, I'm working on it. My to-do list is getting smaller for the moment and I have gotten a ton of wonderful compliments lately, which keep me chugging along.
Since he, "stalks my work," I am sure he will see this, but I got a really interesting comment from someone the other day. This compliment also included the description of my jewelry as "kind of earthy, modern day hippie."  I liked it. I like the fact that men enjoy my jewelry. I've been told from my carriers that men love to buy my jewelry as gifts. My guess is that it's because it isn't the shiny, blingy, super girly shh* that you see everywhere. And also, if I did make man things, they could see themselves being attracted to it. My guess.

Happy Monday.