In further effort to break my long-standing habit of spending too much time watching my dog shed, I signed up for a jewelry making class at Art League Houston. Sure it was semi-big bucks that could have been better spent on work clothes or a cleaning lady, but disposable income is meant to be pilfered away, right?

Despite the usual emergence of that pesky border-line social anxiety, I'm anxious to have a new creative outlet. These days, writing just scares me and graphic design has turned into a new brand of slave labor. It seems that everyone I meet is busy with interests and hobbies; I'm starting to think that a girl can't get by on quirkiness alone.