Kitchen Envy

I love the idea of having all of your kitchen necessities out in the open - not only is everything easy access, but it also functions as automatic decoration.

And sometimes too much can be just enough...

{Photos via Desire to Inspire}

Page 59

"What did Mr. Wren say?  Words are loneliness.  I left a couple of words for you on the tablecloth last night - you covered them with your elbows."

- Tropic of Cancer, Henry Miller

Page 11

"Were I to take your cane, mediocre as it is, and poke a little hole in your side, I could collect enough material to fill the British Museum.  We stand on five minutes and devour centurees.  You are the sieve through which my anarchy strains, resolves itself into words.  Behind the word is chaos.  Each word a stripe, a bar, but there are not and never will be enough bars to make the mesh."

There is only one thing which interests me vitally now, and that is the recording of all that which is omitted in books.  Nobody, so far as I can see, is making use of those elements in the air which give direction and motivation to our lives."

- Tropic of Cancer, Henry Miller

Grateful

I adore this Free Encouragement project, a collaboration between Design for Mankind and Booooooom.  Because sometimes we tend to forget all of the things that we are thankful for. 

Hope everyone has an absolutely wonderful Thanksgiving!

Day by Day

{Print by Robert Ryan via Ill Seen, Ill Said}

If you’ve said, ‘I do,’ do it

As for single people, “I don’t know, try eating chocolate cake,” he said.

I'm pretty sure I've read about this "sexperiment" before, but it still fascinates me...  It's worth a read.  

To Have and To Hold

I just read a very interesting article in the NY Times about a recent increase in elopements due to tightening budgets.  

I'm always torn about this - as much as I despise (I mean, despise) the gluttony of the bridezilla insanity, I can't help but think I'd end up kind of depressed getting married alone, without the friends and family who have been there throughout the development of the relationship...

{Photo by Adam Hourigan Photography}

Page 1

"I have no money, no resources, no hopes.  I am the happiest man alive.  A year ago, six months ago, I thought that I was an artist.  I no longer think about it, I am.  Everything that was literature has fallen from me.  There are no more books to be written, thank God. 

This then?  This is not a book.  This is libel, slander, defamation of character.  This is not a book, in the ordinary sense of the word.  No, this is a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in the face of Art, a kick in the pants to God, Man, Destiny, Time, Love, Beauty ... what you will.  I am going to sing for you, a little off key perhaps, but I will sing.  I will sing while you croak, I will dance over your dirty corpse...

To sing you must first open your mouth.  You must have a pair of lungs, and a little knowledge of music.  It is not necessary to have an accordion, or a guitar.  The essential thing is to want to sing.  This then is a song.  I am singing."

- Tropic of Cancer, Henry Miller

I absolutely adore this

Do you ever want to dance with strangers?

{Video by Katie via A Cup of Jo}

Heartthrob

So sweetly simple and inevitably comfy to wear.

{Ring from Verameat via Camp Comfort}

First and Last

{Image by Marin van Kreij via Design for Mankind}

Old World Charm

This cutie couple and their fashionable old-world style makes me want to crash their parties.

{Photo by Bon Appetit via NY Mag}

Cranky

the stupid deer don't even run anymore they just stand there staring while i lunge and flap my arms and hiss and make a fool of myself and then maybe if i'm very lucky they'll take one tiny step and roll their eyes and continue their grassy feast and its so dark so early its barely even five o'clock and its dark dark dark i miss the sun remember when it used to be out until eight thirty? and do you realize how little time suburbanites actually spend outdoors? they sit indoors and sit in cars and sit in offices and walk in stores and i could walk around my neighborhood for hours and never see another face they just drive by engulfed in their huge suv's then sneak back into their garages and inside and never breathe the air and i'm sick of isolation there aren't enough people out here i'm craving civilization even though civilization will most likely annoy me but there's still something comforting in having other bodies bobbing around and voices and action and things going on and i'm bored of boredom and i really would like something to do a job would be nice and the city would be nice and i think it's about time to get those things i wish things would hurry up and happen because i'm waiting and i'm restless and i hate when plans change and i'm sick of the gym and there's a blackberry that keeps chirping in the library don't people libraries are quiet places? they aren't chirping places or talking places and yet this guy over there keeps huffing and puffing with his two laptops spread out on a table and his blackberry that won't stop talking and this other guy that keeps circling me creepy-like watching as i try and do some work and i'm feeling uninspired and don't have anything to say and everything sounds stupid and pointless and i'm sitting surrounded by books and tens of thousands of millions of words from all the people that did have things to say and many that said them well and here i am saying nothing.

Goal: Dress Like This

{Photo by The Sartorialist}

When I need a smile

Or when I want to have a moment of awe-inspiring appreciation for the human body, because at 0:20 she does, oh I don't know, twelve or so pirouettes.

I love you but...

This cute Web site zooms in on that single (sometimes shockingly small and seemingly trivial) aspect of your significant other's personality that has the power to grate on you until the relationship dissolves...

{Photo by I love you but... via Smitten}

Kitchen Envy

{Photo via House Beautiful, October 2008}

Kitchen Envy

And a lovely needlepoint masterpiece...

{Photos via House Beautiful}

Soon...

{Photo by Smosch}

Seriously - I Have A Problem

(Note: This video took place during the Jets game. Please ignore Jared's yelling.)

Just When You Thought Things Couldn't Get Any Cuter...

They do.

Jared's fam decided little Boo needed a playmate.  

Enter Penny.

Now, when I first heard the news that there was a new kitty addition, I felt sad for Boo.  I thought, the poor guy is already going to have the spotlight stolen right out from under him.  I believe my direct quote was "My allegiance remains with Boo!"

And then I walked into the house.  And then I saw Penny.  

And I shoved little Boo aside and grabbed up that bundle of cuddly fluff and said, "Boo who?"

Because Penny is perhaps the cutest thing I have ever seen in my whole wide life.  

Boo was adorable.  IS adorable.  Obviously.  

But Boo is also a BOY.  And regardless of species, boys like to roughhouse.  Boys are violent.  Boys won't settle down.  Boys harass little girls who are just trying to relax and cuddle and love.

And just look at her FACE.  Look at those teeny weeny ears.  Look at that fluffy wuffy coat.  Do you know how incredibly soft her tummy is?

Little Penny is a flopper.  In fact, she tends to flop her itsy bitsy body down without much regard for where she is.  For example, she flops onto the very edge of my leg, and then slides off, does a somersault, and ends up sprawled on the couch.  And there she happily stays.  

Penny likes to sprawl.

Boo is a bit of a bully sometimes, but they seem to be warming to each other.

Poor Scarlet is outnumbered now.  And the mean humans won't let her frolic with the kitties.  But she does give them a nice tongue bath whenever those mean humans will let her within ten feet of the kitties sometimes, and they seem to very much enjoy it. 

Can't.

Stop.

Posting.

Pictures.

(p.s. - I can't believe I'm becoming one of those people... those animal people...yikes)

RU vs. Army, or The Period In Which I Almost Lost a Number of Valuable Appendages

Because of that silly little thing called law school, SOME people were not available to accompany to the Rutgers game on Saturday.  However, Dad was quite excited to relive his many decades of Giants seasons tickets and step up to the plate to attend his first RU game.  And lucky for him, he got to be there on the most frigid day in the history of football!  Hoo-rah Hoo-rah Rutgers Rah!

(Ok, so that is a completely unfounded, and almost assuredly completely inaccurate statement, and yet over the past five years of devoted football fandom, never in my life have I been half so cold.  Therefore, my statement will remain.)

Now, I knew it was chilly.  I layered up like a pro.  I wore some snazzy leggings under my jeans, and approximately 4 shirts/sweaters under my down coat.  I was decked out in some abominable snowman mittens.  And my trusty Uggs to keep my feet toasty warm.  

We parked on College Ave and did the 30 minute trek to Busch campus, because I would rather swim across the disease-infested waters of the ol' Raritan than get on an overheated shuttle with dozens of drunken, chanting college students.  I refused to do it when I was a college student, and I most certainly refuse to do it now that I am aged and crotchety.  

So, we opted for the fast-paced walk, which left us feeling perhaps a wee bit overconfident about our ability to withstand the cold.  Sure, the thermometer had barely reached 35 when we left the house, but we're so warm now!  Look, I'm even unzipping my coat a smidge.  And taking of my gloves.  I'm working up a sweat here!

We zipped up to our seats (and by up I mean UP, as in up in the 2nd tier where the winds blow with gusto) and sat down, an incredible half hour before kickoff!  

(Note - never ever in my football-fan life have I been in my seat to actually SEE kickoff, which Jared will crankily attest to)

(Note to note - Not true - I was definitely in my seat for for the Louisville game in '06, aka the Most Glorious and Wonderful Moment in RU Football History)

The fans slowly trickled in.  I watched the pros march to their seats armed with sleeping bags and fleece blankets and zippy seat cushion things.  I began to reconsider whether I should have swatted away Mama's proffered seat cushions.  But no, Dad and I were tough.  We didn't need those wimpy things.  We had layered.

And then, perhaps right around the time they finally kicked off, I realized I had lost feeling in my fingers.  And that is when I knew bad things were about to happen.

From that moment on, I alternated between completely loss of feeling in my fingers, thighs, forehead, and toes (alas, Uggs, you failed me).  

As we waited for the officials to review a play, the guy in front of me cried out "Flip a coinnn.  We're colddddd. Just make a decision already.  Please just leave the clock running... hurry uppppp."  

I still do not think you are comprehending how cold it was.  

And really, not just the cold.  The wind.  The FREAKING wind.  A blustery  you-are-being-punished-by-Mother-Earth wind.  A wind that sent the frozen garbage of filthy fans swirling around the stadium all damn day.  A wind that knocked Dad's hat off and skittering down the stands.  Twice.  A wind that made me cry inside and wonder why I wasn't watching this stupid game on TV on my couch in my sweatpants with a cup of tea in my warm warm house.

At halftime everyone went sprinting down the stands, many of them for hot chocolate, the rest in surrender and on their way out.  As we stood up and started the trek down, we both realized our knees were frozen.  We couldn't really, you know, bend them.  It made walking down very steep concrete steps a bit of a challenge.  

I stood in a long long line for hot chocolate.  Finally, I was up next.  Dad had his wallet out.  

"Um, I don't know if I can last the whole game," I say.  

Dad's head whips around.  "Oh, um, did you want to go now?"

My eyes light up with glee.  "Oh, well, do YOU want to go now?"

"Well if you're cold and want to go..."

"I mean I'll stay if you want to stay..."

We look at each other and sprint down the ramp.  We join the mass exodus and powerwalk back to College Ave, trying very hard to regain feeling in any of our limbs.  

"Ok well, when your mother asks why we left," Dad says, "I'll blame you, and you blame me.  Ok?"

"Ok!"

By the time we're in possession of ABP hot chocolate and chai tea, and the car is within our sights, we're already remarking how it's not really that cold, is it?  I mean, I kind of worked up a sweat...

Big Plans

I've had an affair with Storypeople for quite a few years now, and thought it was time to share some of my favorites.  I beyond adore their sweet whimsical words.

{Image by Storypeople}

In Support of Marriage

Because really, you need the guarantee that there is one person out there who is one hundred percent committed to entertaining you when you are very very bored.

(And who will also claim to love your haircut, even when you think it looks very very bad...)

{Photo by digi_baz}

Discovery

It is very hard to tie your shoes when you are wearing gloves.

Happiness is... a Large Rump

In the U.S., and 'round the world, thin is beyond in - it's a cultural obsession.  But on yesterday's Oprah show, a woman from the West African country of Mauritania revealed that in her country, bigger is better.  In Mauritania cankles, plump arms, and a large rump are the most desirable parts of a woman.  Oh, and the men love stretch marks.  And divorcees.  

Huh.

Things Worth Wishing For

{Image by kiss the paper}

And This is Where I'll Babble On and On About Pretty Much Nothing

For the past week I've been lugging Hotel du Lac all over the house every time my laptop and I change locations, in the hopes that I'll finally be inspired to do a little write-up.  Well, the inspiration has not struck, but since it's Friday, and since I want to stop staring at this dreary book cover, I'm sucking it up and writing something.  

(Note - even after writing that one pathetic paragraph, I was uninspired enough to take a 20-minute blog stalking hiatus.  Just trying to convey the severity of my complete inability to think of anything stimulating to say about this book.)

But truly, it wasn't a bad book.  And maybe that's part of the problem.  It wasn't great, and it wasn't horrid, and being mediocre I don't have a whole lot to rant or rave about.  I seem to function best in extreme circumstances.  

Anyway, the book is about romance novelist Edith Hope and her time spent at the Hotel du Lac, a quiet country retreat accessible only to the most exclusive patrons.  In short, Edith "has made a fool of herself over love" (or so says the book jacket) and her friends ship her off to the hotel in the hopes that she'll morph back into the quiet, proper woman she has always been.  

Internal monologues and life-pondering ensue.  Other guests at the hotel are befriended and observed.  Flashbacks occur regarding said foolishness over love.  

There were some lovely sentiments and all (I got a bit quote-happy again), but for the most part, eh.  I kept waiting for something monumental to happen, and it didn't.  Not that kind of book.  Which is totally fine, of course.  

(Note - the book was published in 1984, but I swear it read like something from the 1800's... very proper, careful language - call me stupid, but I really couldn't figure out when the book took place, which I found bothersome...)

So, that's really all I have to say about it.  I've been racking my brain for something intelligent and witty and generally fascinating to say, but instead I just keep slinking off to read other blogs to procrastinate some more.  So, I think I'm done now.  

The book was eh.  Next?

Kitchen Envy

{Photo via Desire to Inspire}

Book Lust

{Photo via Desire to Inspire}

Loud children are one thing, loud mommys are another

Apparently, Red-haired Mommy in the library feels that the Quiet rule does not apply to her, because shouting unsuccessful reprimands at her whiny children is always allowed.  

And for goodness sakes, "Mommy brought you here to get something nice!  Don't you think that Mommy deserves to get something for herself too?"  

Yes, Mommy does.  But Mommy should learn how to get something for herself QUIETLY.

And when I hear Mommy say "Now, you see, you're ticking everybody off..." what I want to say is, "Oh no no, kids are kids, but YOU, lady, are really ticking me off."

Spaces and Faces

The NY Times ran an article about Todd Selby, the photographer responsible for the addictive behind the scenes photographs of "interesting people in their creative spaces."   

{Photo via The Selby}

Pretty Things

{Photo via Camille Hempel}

Chilled to the Bone

Poor honey bear is really feeling the effects of the chilly weather, and making it very difficult for me to prepare my tea...

Speak to Me

{Photo by a beautiful revolution via Design for Mankind}

Well The Weather Outside is Frightful

{Photo by Tom Scheerer via this is glamorous}

Lady of Leisure

Ok, I'll admit it, I am not completely opposed to my current lifestyle as a woman of leisure.  A lady who lunches.  All euphemistic terms of endearment for "have no idea what to do with my life."

Sure, life would be a teensy bit more leisurely if I had a limitless source of income, a la Gossip Girl Upper East Siders.  Then I would be lunching much more often, let me tell you.

However, the leisure itself is not bad.  

Sure, I get a little restless at times.  Like when I realize the high point of my day is washing my car because, oh man!, now I can cross something, anything, off of my To Do list.

(Although, in my defense, the car wash WAS a big accomplishment, because dipping your already cracked and dry hands into frigidly cold water, and prancing around the soapy driveway for a half hour in the thirty degree weather is NOT exactly my idea of a good time.)

So the problem is not so so much the leisure time.  Rather, it is the extreme lack of social interaction.  The complete abyss of human contact that results from living in a part of New Jersey where deer outnumber people.  A part of New Jersey in which there is a buffalo farm only ten minutes from my house, and yet it takes twenty minutes to get to a movie theater.  

Yes, my parents and I spend an awful lot of time together.  Which is lovely, don't get me wrong.  Mama is also a lady who very much enjoys a good lunch.  Like yesterday, when we went to a glorious glorious diner (aren't diners fantastic creations?) and ate a whole lot of bacon.  Yes, I know, it's a rough life.

So my parents and I bond during the week.  And I spend the weekends with Jared.  Otherwise... well... let's just say that's pretty much it.  Except my elderly friends at the gym.  Of which I am accumulating a disturbing number.  

You see, I may have mentioned this previously, but the gym right in town is affiliated with the local hospital.  Therefore, it does a lot of lovely things like physical therapy and rehabilitation.  Therefore, the average age of gym-goer is approximately 65.  Therefore, I stick out like a large, knobby thumb.  A very young thumb.  

So, in addition to my obvious youth, which attracts attention from all the old folk, who do their daily laps around the track while I emerge purple-faced and sweaty from step, or hi-lo, or Zumba, or any aerobics class that does not involve snooze-worthy elliptical machines, I also like to stretch.  

It's the stretching that does it.  Because, you see, since I am in major withdrawal from my ballet classes.  In other words, I get crabby every time I look at the clock between the hours of 6 p.m. and 7:30 p.m. on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday because I SHOULD be in the breathtakingly gorgeous studios of Alvin Ailey pirouetting away while Vladimir plays the piano, and instead I'm doing step with the elderly.  Or sitting in my pajamas while browsing the Internet.  

So, what I'm getting at is that everyday at the gym I try and retain the teensiest bit of flexibility (the minimal amount I possess by dancer standards) by putting my leg up on the railing and stretching.  Like this and this and then this.  This becomes quite the conversation starter, let me tell you.

Now I have a whole following of men 70+ who say hello to "the best conditioned girl in the whole place!" and tell me "I'd break my leg right off if I did that!"  I also have become friendly with the female crowd, who step and sweat with me in the aerobics classes.  They've taken to exclaiming "Dancer is here!" when I enter the room.

See, who said I was bored?  Who said I didn't have any social interaction?  

I am very busy eating bacon and stretching on railings and chatting it up with senior citizens, thankyouverymuch!   

And now I'm going to cap off a very full day with some J&K8 and House Hunters.  

Maybe I'll have time to write again soon.  But I can't make any promises....

{Photo via glamoraglam}

Also pondering...

...why this man who is sitting in the middle of the library thinks its a-okay to chitter chatter away on his cell phone, oh excuse me, his BLUETOOTH, conducting work.


Sir, my guess is that you came here because it is "a quiet place to work."

Are you grasping the irony of this situation?

Pondering

I'm sitting in the library surrounded by stacks and stacks of books.

Are you ever amazed that we never seem to run out of words?

Page 170

"No, I don't love you.  But you have got under my guard.  You have moved and touched me, in a way in which I no longer care to be moved and touched.  You are like a nerve that I had managed to deaden, and I am annoyed to find it coming to life.  I shall do my utmost to kill it off again as soon as possible.  After all, I am not in the business of losing my centrality."

- Hotel du Lac, Anita Brookner

Page 166

"Men do like that kind of woman.  They feel they are missing out if they get anything that is less than tricky and fantastic; they like the danger of that sort of attachment.  They like the feeling that they have had to fight other men for possession.  That is what it is all about, really.  Knocking other men down.  It is only when those other men get up and start fighting for possession all over again that they realize how fragile, how tiring, that particular kind of partnership is.  One gets no work done."

- Hotel du Lac, Anita Brookner

Be Mindful

{Photo via CD Ryan}

Book Lust

{Photo via Apartment Therapy}

Page 98

"You are wrong to think you cannot live without love, Edith."

"No, I am not wrong," she said, slowly.  "I cannot live without it.  Oh, I do not mean that I go into a decline, develop odd symptoms, become a caricature.  I mean something far more serious than that.  I mean that I cannot live well without it.  I cannot think or act or speak or write or even dream with any kind of energy in the absence of love.  I feel excluded from the living world.  I become cold, fish-like, immobile.  I implode.  My idea of absolute happiness is to sit ina  hot garden all day, reading, or writing, utterly safe in the knowledge that the person I love will come home to me in the evening.  Every evening."

- Hotel du Lac, Anita Brookner

Page 95

"You have no idea how promising the world begins to look once you have decided to have it all for yourself.  And how much healthier your decisions are once they become entirely selfish.  It is the simplest thing in the world to decide what you want to do - or, rather, what you don't want to do - and just to act on that... Within your own scope you can accomplish much more.  You can be self-centered, and that is a marvelous lesson to learn.  To assume your own centrality may mean an entirely new life."

- Hotel du Lac, Anita Brookner

Page 94

"It is a great mistake to confuse happiness with one particular situation, one particular person.  Since I freed myself from all that I have discovered the secret of contentment... It is simply this.  Without a huge emotional investment, one can do whatever one pleases.  One can take decisions, change one's mind, alter one's plans.  There is none of the anxiety of waiting to see if that one other person has everything she desires, if she is discontented, upset, restless, bored.  One can be as pleasant or as ruthless as one wants.  If one is prepared to do the one thing one is drilled out of doing from earliest childhood - simply please oneself - there is no reason why one should ever be unhappy again."

- Hotel du Lac, Anita Brookner

Book Lust

Books in the rafters - ingenius!

{Photo via Apartment Therapy}

Wishlist

{Solid Crawford Blouse and Winona Bow Blouse via JCrew}

Book Lust

{Photo via Apartment Therapy}

Terrible Twos

This weekend, little Boo morphed from sweet five-week old kitty darling into nibbly hyperactive six-week old terror.  

In his current toddler phase, Boo very much enjoys gnawing and clawing at anything that moves - particularly white and red clicky pens, remote controls, and pointer fingers.  Instead of snuggling quietly into human-limb-created nooks and watching Gossip Girl like the docile feline of yesterweek, he pretends to rest quietly before attempting to claw my torso to shreds by scampering away in a fit of escaping glee.  

Boo and Scarlet also formed a special bond this weekend, which involved me and/or Jared holding onto the kitty for dear life while he submitted to a pitbull tongue bath and tried very hard to paw her eyes out.  To be honest, Boo did seem to enjoy the lickfest, perhaps longing for his missing mama cat, and Scarlet served as a very gentle (though large and potentially hungry) substitute.  

And here we get a glimpse of Boo's new favorite activity - Escape.

Ah, they do grow up so fast.