april showers
fierce, pounding drops of rain!
weep down on us.
purge the snark, distrust, and icky gossip lurking in those dark, unhappy, cobwebbed corners.
cleanse our palates so that we speak in crystalline, melodic, kind tongues.
words so jolly our eyes, mouths and feet all dance in time.
pool me speakers of still.
silencing those knowing best for me.
fool me twice, ten, twenty...i'm still a sucker for the soft smile of sorry.
weekend house
sunday afternoon, when my work week is finally done, i identify my target {bed}, lock in, aim body, and fire in for my long-awaited {well-deserved} nap.
the sounds of our house stir me into sweet compose.
at first blush a baby might even find the silence too still and lull.
but sit a moment.
eyes closed.
the house breathes, beats and reverberates a peaceful lullaby:
from our bedroom i can hear harbor boats blast their booming, deep hulled tenor as they signal around the bay; soulful hellos boasting their years here on the water.
downstairs the percussion pants of de-conditioned beasts unaccustomed to neighborhood walks in the springtime sun, beat time to creaking, cracking ankles of the beast walker; no longer the tennis star he was in his youth.
snip, snip, snap sound the garden sheers of my neighbor miles. retired, he tends to his japanese boxwood with the love and care of an old-fashioned courtship. next he attempts to tame his wild, unruly, hot-pink, tea roses who crisscross his white pickets with the sass and rebellion of a teenager. sadie, his portuguese water puppy, plays bunny-rabbit throughout the yard, greeting all who walk by with a lick and a hop.
a sleepy smile escapes my slumber when i hear my beloved sock slippering the hard wood halls, office to den, to check an occasional basketball score, and scour the pantry for something chocolatey and sweet.
squeaky wheels peep from the kids on their cruisers pedaling home from the beach. cheeks burned, sand in their suits.
weekend coming to a close. just like my nap.
i've always thought i looked my best after a nap. even with my eyes a little puffy, hair a bit here and there. i'm my most katie after my naps. especially on sunday afternoons.
especially in the quiet of my house.
styling
i'm just now coming down from my sugar high...
have y'all caught the fabulous new ezine styled?
created by victoria hudgens of a subtle revelry, styled is plush with jewelry hued photographs and hand-clapping ideas, bringing fresh inspiration to your entertaining and party planning this spring.
styled includes such bits like step by step guides to making your own confetti, cabochon, and party hats...and not in the cheesy party city type of way...nor in the martha stewart...first you must start your own paper press kind of way either.
styled's bohemian easter will have you canceling that fancy, jacket required buffet brunch in exchange for bare feet and potato chips with smashed spring peas.
each spread had me reeling in fantasy.
i must say it was a tough decision....picking my favorite story...butterfly picnic? complete with a hair-braided child in white, wind blown dress? killin me. or grown-up lemonade stand? lulling me in with lavender lemonade martinis and girl talk.
but i can't get my brain unwrapped around the paint by number ice cream bar.
my friends know, make-your-own sundae bars are one of laziest favorite ways to serve dessert. {thank you girls bunko....although we haven't actually played in 5 years...}
this is an even prettier, creamier {whipped cream that is} version with candies and sprinkles colored in spring.
in all honesty though...this doesn't seem so much like make-your-own-sundae. it appears to be more like 'hostess does ALOT of work for her guests who then can make their own sundaes'. FYI.....
nevertheless it's pretty.
and pretty, and all things pink and lilac, usually negate yucky, sweat, and tears in my book.
styled most certainly made my day happier...
a wednesday happy to you m'loves.
rabbit white
good grief.
tis tuesday morning and already i'm skipping two stairs at a time to get it all done.
no time to say hello, goodbye!! i'm late! i'm late! i'm late!
hoping for a tea party at the top of my staircase.
lapsang souchong in laura ashley porcelain.
maybe a scone? berry. heavy on the candied sugar.
watch my swan dive into the devonshire cream.
{a perfect 1o from the german judge}
a tuesday happy to you m'loves.
what's in your wand?
come on. spill it. you know you want to.
tell me how you weave your magic. and don't say you lack the beans to bewitch.
we all have them.
some are just deeply creviced, cardiganed behind a lifestyle of bland tasting humble pie.
show me your stuff.
do you glitter and glue? paint pictures so pretty girls grab their chests?
can you muse each and all into a runway silhouette with your fashion finesse?
do giggles and whoop trail your funny bone every where you trek?
does your sweet sounding soprano have the songbirds weeping with envy, as you lullaby the babes to sleep?
are you a guardian?
do you tend and soothe? balming broken hearts or scabbed knees?
can you wax rhapsodic with the shake of your hips?
do you write the words that make the whole world sing?
or do you writhe your sorcery into soufflés and sticky rice?
can you bring the beauty out of already the most beautiful?
maybe you don't yank rabbits from black top-hats or time travel into centuries passed.
but your powers are marvelous and impacting.
find yours, you have more than two...i know, and celebrate them madly.
the planet is a thirsty, dried out, dying fern waiting to thrive from a sprinkle of your magic.
if only a kind smile.
even if i haven't seen your face {although lucky for me many of you i have} or shared an afternoon of coffee;
you all, in your silent and not so silent ways, add magic to my life.
thank you m'loves.
party people
i went to a birthday party this weekend. stag.
hunkiest was out town at party of his own; of a stag nature as well.
yet the naughty these boys seemed to have found was of whiskey and lack of bug spray like.
for all his clinker and glee as he packs up his shiny 9 iron and polished 3 wood, that boy never fails to ring home, like a kid sick at camp, wishing to be picked up early.
he asks me what the beasts are doing, as if by some miracle they've suddenly acquired a new, people, {opposable thumb requiring} skill since he left town.
um, they're doing math homework??!? they're sleeping of course!! that's what our beasts DO baby.
we count the days, sometimes hours until he walks back through the door to his "family".
silly, but it's the kind of thing that still has me plan outfits days before i see him.....my brain's always working on our next date.
although hunky and i do enjoy each other's smile, chat and smooch, one of our strongest suits is our ability to hang separately.
at my party, the beautiful birthday girl wore a sash of pink and a tiara of tinsel;
i walked in knowing few and left loving many.
i wrapped my heart around a freckled girl with amber hair, who sat for hours with a strawberry taking each and every single seed off the pretty fruit; just because it felt scientific. she was sweeter than any candy colored cupcakes we ate together.
i ate a cobbler baked with berries and i felt a baby boy, who although won't officially be here until june, make his party presence felt in his momma's stomach.
a grand time had by moi'...and i couldn't wait to ring up my beloved and share.
spring rain
not exactly the get up i was donning in yesterday's torrential, power-outing, tree-uprooting, car washing {graçias}, patio furniture tossing {non-graçias} spring storm. but i do love a nice deluge.
and such a grand shower! ushering in spring, my favorite season.
buds, both in flower and human form, are ripe to bloom after a cold, tear-stricken winter. i thought to myself as the rain rattled the windows, nature is ensuring an extra pretty bloom, one last heavy douse of drink to give our branches and petals steadfast length and technicolor hue.
as a young girl, whenever i found myself with pocket of money: check from grandma or an easter egg from dad, instead of spending it down at the liquor store on powdery fun-dip or on the requisite green tongue inducing apple jolly ranchers, i'd make my way over to crabtree & evelyn for a bottle of spring rain bubble bath and shampoo.
i was obsessed with the fragrance: tea rose, lily of the valley and peony heavy. spring rain is one whiff into a jane austen countryside of bonnets and flirtatious romp. although, at 9 years old, i was more ramona and beezus rather than marianne and elinor, i understood the ability to transport and detach.
fantasy. make-believe. checking out.
spring rain let me escape to butterfly fields and family meals not eaten at a counter for 1. there was a lot going on in my house that required fantasy.
every so often i'll stumble in to a crabtree & evelyn store to smell spring rain and summer hill {what i'd move onto in june}. the scent doesn't appeal to me now so much. a little too strong, with too many chemicals. but i always sample the lotion. it reminds the candy store is open for business.
life is good. even the stuff that leaves a mark. i'm living my fantasy now.
monday happy....truly.
yesterday morning, while turning the pages of my sunday times,
yes, i still read my paper in paper form: black inked finger tips, loud rustling pages flapping in the porch wind,
occasionally catching fire from my fresh cut grass scented table-top candle, causing mass hysteria among the beasts and
just making me look plain silly as i hop up and down in my 1994 grey (once green) bathrobe in front of the passing
neighbors attempting to snuff out flying, fiery news embers.
but back to my reading. as i followed the front page story of japan's anguish onto pages 7 and 8
my attention kept diverting to the giant ads sandwiching the heartache.
i tried to read about chiyako ito's tearjerking story of her barn collapsing, flattening all her tractors and
cars, blocking any way to get food, water or any other aid.
yet, through those tears, bloomingdales kept dazzling me to the right and left with the of power of spring colorblocking.
apparently, an absolute must!!!
so there it is. bloomingdales solves the dilemma.
just what ms. ito needs. get her a nice little jil sander get up, and she's good to go.
food and water be damned.
albeit ridiculous, this dichotomy was exactly the laugh i'd been waiting for.
it lifted me up, a bit, from the heaviness i'd been feeling all weekend.
later on i was watching the documentary joan rivers: a piece of work,
{a great movie if you're on the fence about becoming an actor.....YOU WON'T after watching}
whether you find her funny or not she makes a good point: we need to find the humor.
she says when terrible, horrific things happen like 9/11, humor helps us get through the sadness.
it's true, when i think back to some of my bluest moments i can also remember some sick fits of laughter.
so i'm not only sending japan condolences and thoughts of love & support,
i'm also hoping they're able to find their smiles and good humor...maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon.
monday happy to you m'loves.
march
true to form, monsieur march came in like a lion;
surly and base, big paws swiping madly in the air.
agile as a cat, i luckily avoided any pops or scrapes to the face and bod.
silly little lions can't knock me down;
i'm always ready for a nice tangle and scrap.
scratch that. not true. pants on fire.
i HATE confrontation.
i'm quite the chicken.
cluck. cluck.
i'd rather hold my tongue than rumble.
my legs have a nice cozy spot for my tail.
but with all the bumps and barnacles i must share what else march has tendered:
homemade key lime pie.
mumford and son's tickets.
this year's first bloom of my jasmine plant.
a friday evening of french cuisine and friends.
new screen doors throughout the house.
a family dinner.
new bedroom furniture.
my dad's birthday.
my mom's beautiful smile.
spin and pilates students giving me goosebumps with their dedication.
blog posts making me cry, scream with laughter, and happy dance {sometimes all at once}.
my beasts discovering the art of spooning.
plum blossom bath soap.
pink nails.
hunkiest.
and finally the privilege of talking to you m'loves.
thursday happy to you!
flying the coop...
headless chicken kind of day m'loves.
tunnel. light. end.
here i come.
no time to chat...hopefully tomorrow {please say yes}.
with my eye on spring {i see you m'lady} here are some tuesday fancies.
tuesday happy.
rainbow hunter
a wet morning welcome can't dampen my weekend parade.
boots strapped, i stomp myself silly into monday's rote routine of have to.
long-legged lilies, cart wheeling out of their vase, do their part to help bewitch the smile out of me.
memories of stolen kisses at a tabletop for two suddenly turn these rain showers into a romantic jean luc goddard film.
i have to be on guard.
winter storms do their best to charm my inner recluse to further hide, shelter, and shut.
lately i've come down with a case of covers up, doors closed, phones and computers in trash turned off.
but mr. drippy window pane here,
you blurry the dark, thundering clouds into a jewely, kaleidoscope wild.
stepping outside seems not so scary.
so, off i go.
eyes fixed forward.
task at hand:
there are rainbows to hunt.
tickling my toes
just a few things making me silly happy.
buds refusing to bow down to the bully of frost and freeze;
defiantly, flamboyantly blooming big bowfuls of petal for our cold winter favor.
birthday cakes are on the brain.
i'm completely heart sweet on this sugary vanilla, heavy on the frosting {save me the rose please} happy pastry.
tis so hard for me to remain completely grown-up diving into a slice of said prettied delight; my legs often pop into a spontaneous, uncontrollable happy dance underneath the dining room table.
how 'bout we all pop over to jamie's for a slice? childish dance party optional.
she's another, that jamie girl, who can make me giddy glee.
also getting my goose greased gay are my tim mcgraw worthy clodhoppers.
thudding me up and down the town, always paired with the frilliest skirts and dresses my closet can proffer.
let's not forget my daily date{s} with bathtub.
today my window to a better, brighter, kinder world has a little less streaking.
a new path paved with possiblity....and pink {big smile} is always available for me to walk about.
i know this to be truer than the bluest of true.
an afternoon, or {gasp} even more scandalous, a morning tryst with mr sandman may not just be a pipe dream one of these days.
a reignited my romance with my kitchen.
after 12 days with the flu the thought of anyone else handling my food made an already fussy stomach even more flustered and overwrought.
i'm actually tasting food in its perfect form again; not covered up in sugar, salt and other additives.
this could get addictive.
date night.
hunkiest and i start planning our next outing while in the midst of our current rendezvous.
so much for living in the moment.
but our time together is so limited, and the word precious even seems flippant.
we're fierce with this allotment.
we look forward to it all week, and still feel like they end oh too early.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6e_rGR9ItRY]
this song is currently burning up my ipod.
and you!
you elate me my loves. the emails, comments, those who agree and disagree. those who have nothing to say.
i love you all.
i'm tickled totally.
weekend happy
it is only with the heart
that one can see rightly; what is essential
is invisible to the eye.
-antoine de saint-exupéry
weekend happy
weekend happy to you m'loves.
i'm on the first flight to the city that never sleeps.
see you monday morning for a recap.
kiss kiss.
a revision
yesterday, amidst all the chocolate hearts and pink carnations i found myself in a familiar place: conflicted.
a pickle of sorts.
spout, spout, spout i spat my distaste for all things valentine and hallmark.
but contrary is not a color i wear well. completely washes me out actually.
yet mid savasana {thank you raquel perry} a shift occurred in my heart and brain.
loosening up the laces on my grinch boots, i slowly started to shovel out my deep rooted heels.
and for the rest of the day i decided to send out valentines {silent, energetic, fairytale-princess-like} to the people i don't love.
wordlessly, i hurled arrows of happy toward those who are hurtful, dishonorable, and vicious.
people who have affected me personally, and people who haven't.
luckily it wasn't a long list.
what is extensive is the continued peace i feel in my heart.
so i revise my stance on valentine's day.
while my knee jerk is still to think of those without,
i can still privately honor the holiday within.
wishing you a tuesday beautiful m'loves.
required loving
i love to read. always have.
soon as i could link those consonants, vowels, verbs, nouns, conflict, character, resolution;
i was a goner.
while my friends were playing handball at recess i was convening with jo and amy.
exotic vacations with the family i spent burrowed in a book; my love affair with my stories far outweighed any canyon, tower, or beach.
until the summer of the required reading list.
upon entering junior AP english, students are given the list: books deemed necessary for the following term.
books never to be discussed, quizzed or essayed, but requisite nonetheless.
suddenly 12 books i had longed to read and intended to devour, interested me as much an infected hangnail.
suddenly the sweet valley high twins started to feel cerebral and seductive.
so where am i going with this?
valentine's day.
last night i finally realized why i'm not a fan
i love.
i love hunkiest. i love my family. i love my friends. i love strangers.
i don't need a day of red (my least favorite color) to remind me to love.
force feed me something and i'll come back with a different recipe not so tasty.
most valentine's day my mind goes to people like the guy on 17th street living out of his shopping cart, or my neighbors who are splitting up.
i can't help but see all the heart-shaped mylar balloons and pink carnations through their eyes.
february 14th my heart hurts for those who might not be as lucky as the rest of us.
so, forgive me if i respectfully decline to participate in the valentine's day pomp.
it feels like required reading for the heart.
eyes wide shut
my toes-a-tippy are solely devoted to ballerina pointé, and deeper looks into the donut display.
yet lately, my colleagues friends and i find ourselves begrudgingly walking with backs more upright,
eggshells beneath our creeping feet,
treading carefully on a landmined laced tightrope.
shifting, dark eyes have suddenly sprouted from dusty corners.
years of honesty, dedication, and love are now expected to take backseats to bottom lines.
i wasn't schooled in the game of watch your back, and i don't fancy an education now.
call me naïve. call me green. i can fashion a fabulous frock with both.
but i will not run in the race of the rats.
would you like to start with an app?
kittens.
i've finally {3 months later} taken my ipad out of its box.
so now what?
{thumbs twittling}
she's very pretty, my ipad.
pantene-hair glossy, and ultra slim fit.
but for the last couple days it's been a rather awkward round of 1st dates:
ipad and i sitting at the table together quietly; uncomfortably avoiding each others' stare...
the mocking piano jingle from the apple commercial bouncing up and down the keys in my brain.
{this uptempo tune has quickly morphed into a john carpenter-like halloween association for me}
aren't i supposed to order appetizers or something for us now?
any suggestions?
you know me. i like pretty, fancy things that swish swish in the wind.
i make college boys weep with my ability to put away good food.
i also need to have my world news fix at least once an hour.
so all you tech savvy apple of my eyes, what shall i load on my lonely girl?