something happening here.....
it's in the air, it's twinkling in the trees, dewing up coming up from the grass; i can feel it on my skin.
a change.
a subtle whiff of fall is finally moseying her way into southern california.
specks of cedar and pine fragrant the street from neighbors' first fires of the season. the ceiling fans turn off and cashmere socks slip on.
just as the seasons turn over and rejuvenate, i too, am in need for a re-working....
come back tomorrow to see what new things are stewing in my crock pot.
tuesday happy m'loves.
and the world will live as one...
i see london, i see france,
i see moonbeams disco dance.
some hear sea and waves.
but for me, my friends, the seashells, spin tales and sagas on par with atwood and irving.
on any day a magazine moose becomes my afternoon confident.
how is he the only one so far who understands?
we later go for a bike ride in the andes.
each morning my lushy, warm backyard awakens like a wave unfurls:
piece by piece its heartbeat rouses and grows stronger; the beast and i make our rounds to our pals, the flowers, bugs and trees, offering them coffee and croissants.
my tub, my fortress in the forest of fairies, conceals me from the dragons and ogres wanted me to drink the local witch's kool-aid brew.
hidden and safe, i stop up leaks of doubt and floods of fear. my hoover dam is a conscience clear and an open heart.
beast by my side, petals lapping in rosy unison round the basin, candles flickering in time to the peaceful ballet of the nighttime nymphs who prepare the house for sleep.
fairy tales do come true.
my evening crew takes watch. keeping vigil over a bedtime that is all too often elusive and full of fret.
drowsy drunk on the night jasmine piping up through the bedroom window, my bumble bee brain begins to slow down.
i can hear the footsteps of mr. sandman. off to dreamland i go....let the true fantasies begin.
you may say i'm a dreamer....i hope someday you'll join me.
mayday! mayday!
man down.
s
stomach flu.
me. last 36 hours.
in the process of developing a newly found, unnatural relationship with my bathroom floor; i also carved out, new bikini abs, perfect for summer.
silver lining kind of girl.
hey mr tangerine man, play a song for me
not much to say today.
other than:
orange you glad it's thursday?
images
resolution number 3: cell stupid
over the summer my beloved phone died a painful, dramatic, sylvia plath-like death.
my grief grew branches and bore fruit when i learned my cherished model was no longer offered,
and in addition i would have to switch phone companies.
enter the DROID.
let's just say i've had migraine headaches more pleasant than this torture-bot.
apparently one needs a computer science Ph.D just to figure out ringtones.
let's not even talk about composing an email......{M.I.T. graduates}
eleven trips to the verizon store and two replacement droids later i decided it wasn't the phone for me.
did you know droid is a synonym for drone {what we call the robotic military planes used to kill people-hello???}
begrudgingly i moved onto a different kind of phone: blackberry bold.
enter a whole new set of buttons, appetizers, screens, cords, and problems.
this phone, although not as NASA as the droid, still would be considered a lemon.
but it's ok. perfect actually.
it's been almost 5 months of a super shoddy relationship with my cell phone and i LOVE it.
i used to be glued to my silly phone. now i rarely know where it is.
i have less paranoia, less anxiety, and more solitude.
i will stay in this verizon lair where my brain gets to nap more, read more, and pet the dogs.
my quality of life has improved so much i'm determined to become even more unhitched to my phone.
here's to unplugging in 2011.
back to life, back to reality
holy smokes!
two giant tubs of mail, over 400 emails, and a missing front tooth*.
welcome home katie.
*story to follow
amazing grace
as in nature, as in art, so in grace; it is rough treatment that gives souls, as well as stones, their luster.~thomas guthrie
swanky saturday
so cassie, my friend of all things in the know and fabulous, scored a much desired invite to c magazine's luncheon honoring derek lam for his collaboration with tod's.
me in mj, cassie in the raddest alexander wang (helps when you have a body like that); we were good girls (for the most part) and stuck to sparkling water and lime.
mr. lam couldn't have been cuter or sweeter.
here's cassie and i looking for presents, checking out what other people are buying, and playing dress up.
my one regret!! i have wanted to buy this lavender bag forever. but didn't think it was the right time to talk to derek about fashioning the piece in an eco-friendly, non-leather fabric.
evil evan (the photographer: who looked more like a model-hence: my silly, flirty school-girl smile) kept baiting me to buy the piece anyway. or at least walk around as if it were mine for the hour.
cassie and i moved onto sunglasses instead. she bought those bad-ass, purple-y, i'm too foxy for the rest of you shades.
cassie runs smarty oc which is is a community of entrepreneurial women. SMARTY provides resources, education and inspiration. their members get business done, they just don't sit around and talk about what they're going to wear once they meet oprah (her words).
we made new friends. this is sweet, beautiful bri. she's a new transplant into orange county. she has skin like milk and honey.
marche moderne served us a perfect spring lunch finished with the most heavenly strawberry shortcake and macaroons i'm still dreaming about.
and THE best swag!! tod's skinny, pebbled, studded bracelet! yippee!
i'm trying to elegantly scour the table for more macaroons.......... i'm like a great white shark amongst a bay of surfers.......where is that last macaroon!??!?!?!
nightmare
i had a terrible dream this weekend that somebody famous died. awful.
the last time i had a nightmare like this was eleven years ago. i dreamt i watched edward kennedy die. a horrendous accident. i somehow saw it happen, but can't remember the exact manner of death.
dreams. foggy and muted, yet so real you're still looking for the marks on your arm from wrestling with the monster.
waking up panicked and unsettled it took me a bit to accept my night's tribulation was merely that.
i needed to focus instead on my italian midterm i had to take in 6 hours (i'd been cramming two days-no tv/radio).
walk downstairs, turn on the tv, breaking news:
"aircraft carrying john f. kennedy jr, carolyn and lauren bessette is missing"
as i slept, john kennedy jr., carolyn and (her sister) lauren bessette died in a plane crash flying to his cousin's wedding.
total coincidence i know, but i think of it often.
i didn't take the midterm. i felt like a freak, and i thought everyone else would think so too.
i met carolyn bessette once. as a teenager. i was getting my haircut at the red door in new york. this was when everyone was seeing oribe. i, instead, had my first cut layers by the sweetest man named danilo. he had just bought a puppy and had stacks and stacks of pictures he wanted to show me. i was more interested in the models (yasmeen ghauri, tatjana patitz) holding his puppy in pictures than his actual dog.
before my haircut, my mom and i sat in the waiting room deciding what to do with my mass o'hair. this beautiful blond girl jumped into our conversation. she told us she worked for calvin klein. she was adamant that i ask for layers in my thick, half japanese hair. she told me i was pretty (at a time when i couldn't have hated myself more). she said her name was carolyn. i think she knew i was miserable and sad. she didn't have to talk to me. she could have read her magazine like i do when i wait for my hair. it's sometimes the only time i get to be quiet. she reached out and made a difference.
a couple of years later we saw her in the papers. she was so much sweeter in person than what we saw in the press.
ramblings.....
nothing to see here, move along. no shiny, twirly, tippy-toe news.
i have a sneeze that wakes me up every morning now, come two a.m. just one sneeze. he's polite that way. if sneeze's had accents his would most definitely sound british.
ah chew.
nathaniel winthorp chesterfield scratchy nose then scurries off until the next time i'm in dreamland, where he wakes me anon.
tis not pesty, although once i'm awoken i'd have greater chance throwing down half court for the lakers than falling quickly back to sleep.
so i read. waiting to be moved. hoping rather.
lately all my reads have had an overall chapstick flavor. not wretched, not grand. happily tolerable. {note i did not say cherry}
maybe it's just my mood still. a general matte finish upon everything i perceive. matte finish can be comely you know?
i must say, though, last night's dinner of chardonnay and peanut m &m's, candy colored in all shades of girl, was terribly delightful!!
so fa-la-la to that!
happy thursday!
tepid tuesday
i'm all out.
sapped dry.
parched.
no rococo ruffles or fancy feathers to whet my whistle today.
it's been a putty colored, purgatory morning.
are you in or are you out winter?
goosebumps still accessorize my outfits. still can't quite find the comfortable.
although, warm, eager, lilac colored toes demand flip flops.
i feel you winter. indecision is my new soundtrack.
i want to be out sharing smiles that start in our stomachs, finish in the corners of our eyes.
but how nice to return to the sack and get back those 3 hours.
wasted worrying. ridiculous ruminating.
screwy stuff like smile lines.
i'm going to sit. for a bit. in this lull.
tis not a bad or scary place. just beige.
i can smile knowing i'll be twirling in tulle by the week's end.
lest i drag my dears down in with me,
thought you might fancy these cool paintings.
happy weekend
this weekend i need a roomy shirt. a long, loose shirt with stretched sleeves.
a shirt i can leave untucked so i don't fret about a stomach not sucked in.
sleeves to hide freakish goosebumps. whom appear even when doppler reads 80 degrees. warm (to some).
this weekend i hope to wear a mint green scarf of low blood pressure.
i'm going for a bit of a drive. happily. a treasure chest awaits me. i will gladly stay to the right of everyone else. listening to her, breathing in......
breathing out.
favorite and i will read. feel like i'm missing pages or worse a soul. i need an emotional socket converter because i'm not feeling anything yet, and (oh my) the story is sad. i read. unmoved.
{yet, i saw a pigeon in a parking garage wednesday night, and i boo hooed for 30 minutes straight, imagining he was stuck there away from his family.}
we're waiting for the next available bed at the local sanitarium.
my mind lately is one loud pinball machine. bang bang. bounce bounce.
i want watercolor emotions just for a month.....
click image for source
sign me up
seriously.
if you could promise me this face? that hair? those eyes and apple pie cheeks? put a knife and fork in me, i'm done.
smitten beyond words.
i need this baby girl!! and i need her NOW!!!!
click image for source
party girl
parties give me a turn.
although i have every intention of belle-ing it up, by the fourth round of it's kind of like pilates, i'm ready to lie in front of the next oncoming speeding train. i can't remedy this anxiety. i'm most certainly a social person. i can't love enough on the men and women who bag my groceries. the secrets spilled during my venti drip acquisitions would make you blush (dylan at peet's i own you for life)..........baristas are fabulous raconteurs.
but why is it at a party twenty plus, no matter how pretty my dress, i end up tucking away (usually with a dog), or leaving early feeling rotten, blue, and incompetent.
i envy you butterflies who's wings expand with the crowd.
we went to an engagement party this weekend. dear friends. practically family. my heart did a toe-touch i was so happy to see them. an hour later i was looking for a bed to hide under.
image from scarymansion.tumblr.com