I’m using it for my Twitter/Facebook avatar– do you like it?
If no, don’t worry– I’ll probably be replacing it soon, possibly with my standard headshot, which you can see in the bio section.
If yes, I’m sorry– don’t get attached.
The thing is, I’m going to be re-vamping my website, my logo, my image, all of that stuff, and part of that is making everything uniform.
The problem is, uniformity is not my strong suit.
I like a bright, bold cartoon avatar for FB and Twitter– something about the size of the thumbnail an my increasingly aging eyes makes the the thick lines and brazen colors appealing and easy to identify. To that end, I asked Chicken to make me an avatar that looked like ME. She tried twice to make ME a skinnier version of me, but even Mate said, “The chubby mom thing is very you.” And the fleeing cat thing is just funny. I’ve been told that I’ll probably have to get over the cartoon avi– that I’m going to want to stick to my headshot, and if I don’t like the headshot, I need to have a new one taken and get over myself. From a marketing standpoint, this is VERY SOUND advice, but from a personal standpoint, the bias against my own picture is very hard to overcome. The photographer did a lovely job, but I don’t spend a lot of time gazing into a mirror, and so I’m always surprised that middle aged person in the picture is really me. And she was three years younger there, so I’m always mentally adding wrinkles, which is sort of an ego blow as well.
The colors are… well, you’ll see when it all falls out, but orange, purple, and lemon yellow are going to be very integral to the new logo/website thing, so this is sort of a transitional avatar. It’s getting you used to things–and hopefully making you smile.
I know it made ME smile, and since it is me, that’s important too 🙂
And about the dogs?
They dogs follow me throughout the house whenever I move– but they don’t just “follow” me. They wrestle/chase me. So every time I walk down the hall, I’ve got this tornado of small dog wreaking havoc in my wake. And when I do laundry, this happens:
Me: *opens door to garage with laundry on my hip*
Geoffie: NOBODY LIVES FOREVER, FOLKS, BANZAAAAAAIIII!!!!!! *leaps over two steps to go sprawling on garage floor*
Me: 0.0 “You didn’t stick the landing, dumbass.”
Geoffie: *skids into a box*
Johnnie: *hops down the two steps to start gorging himself on Garage Cat’s food* “Yeah, mom, she’s a pip. Nom nom nom nom nom…”
And by the time I’m down with laundry, they’ve become a two-backed tasmanian devil once more.