My name is Lindsey. This is my blog. It’s been going (strong?) since 2003.
Some trivia to get you started, if you’re new around here.
I live in Nashville, Tenn., with my son and my husband to be.
I grew up on a farm in rural West Tennessee and I sound country in the city and city in the country. I like being barefoot and I curse too much and usually for no good reason. I like wine with bubbles in it. I ramble when I talk and I write long emails (when I write emails at all) that are sometimes vaguely funny (depending on who you ask). Sometimes I get lucky and have lucid dreams. I snore but praise the lard I have found a man who for now is telling me he thinks it’s “cute.” I bite my nails sometimes but sometimes I don’t. I always go for the pun. I bruise easily. Taking pictures makes me happy. I love to travel, and would do it almost nonstop if I had the means and the time. I am nearly positive that I won the baby lottery with my kiddo. If you ever meet him, you will know what I mean by that. He is sweet and hilarious and, when he is pleased or excited, does a little happy dance that is an eruption of pure joy.
I pay the bills by leading a team of 90+ folks who design 18 newspapers (and their editorial products) in the Southeast. It’s a super challenging, crazy, go-go-go-all-the-time job, but it’s been a blast. I get be a designer, coach, problem-solver, instigator, meddler, flyer maker, email crafter, training-doc poet, cat herder and workflow wonk.
On the side, I have a design/photography operation called Eyedot Creative. I sell prints and stationery and such on Etsy. I do some scattered freelance work, so if you are in need of someone to photograph babies, engagements, events, gardens, pets, etc., or in need of someone to whip up some designs for your business cards or websites or flyers or invitations or whatnot, shoot me a note at email@example.com.
About the blog name
One of the funniest books I’ve ever read is A Confederacy of Dunces. I ripped “theology and geometry” from this passage:
A green hunting cap squeezed the top of the fleshy balloon of a head. The green earflaps, full of large ears and uncut hair and the fine bristles that grew in the ears themselves, stuck out on either side like turn signals indicating two directions at once. Full, pursed lips protruded beneath the bushy black moustache and, at their corners, sank into little folds filled with disapproval and potato chip crumbs. In the shadow under the green visor of the cap Ignatius J. Reilly’s supercilious blue and yellow eyes looked down upon the other people waiting under the clock at the D.H. Holmes department store, studying the crowd of people for signs of bad taste in dress. Several of the outfits, Ignatius noticed, were new enough and expensive enough to be properly considered offenses against taste and decency. Possession of anything new or expensive only reflected a person’s lack of theology and geometry; it could even cast doubts upon one’s soul.
That paragraph just happens to be the first paragraph of the book, which appealed to my laziness and seemed serendipitous at the same time.
Obligatory I-would-like-to-stay-employed disclaimer
Everything uttered on this blog is my opinion and most likely completely ridiculous, and should not be taken as representative of the views of the company I work for.