Saturday, January 31, 2009


I am making this snickerdoodle cake recipe today.  Wish me cups of sugary luck.

Monday, January 26, 2009

le love mostly

[all but the very last are credited to le love; the bike image via finally seeing]

Friday, January 23, 2009

the boxcar children

These caravans immediately reminded me of the Boxcar Children.  Imagine how creative your world would be if you grew up with a caravan in your backyard.  It would have been my ultimate and colorful, sky's-the-limit play house.  And as if that weren't enough, I would have probably requested a big box full of velvety costumes and a tarnished tea pot with a chipped cup, just like Benny's.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Quote D'Jour or Nabokov's Glory Once More

"...and what a condiment that was to being in love, what bliss to stand in the wind next to a laughing woman with wind-blown hair, whose bright skirt would now be worried, now pressed against her knees by the same breeze that had once filled Ulysses' sails... and there she is again, aboard someone else's yacht, sparkling, laughing, flinging coins into the water."

[Glory by Vladimir Nabokov, chapters 9 & 20]

Wode by Boudicca

Wode by Boudicca, a fragrance cobalt blue and bottled in a classic spray can, is dramatic upon first spritz.   Watch, though, as the inky mist disappears and leaves behind "warm and sensual, herbal-spicy notes of juniper bery, cardamom, nutmeg absolute, and clary sage, as well as black hemlock extract, the smell of raw opium, saffron, tuberose, tonka bean, and a heart of musky leather." 

I am curious/determined to try this for myself.  I've been on the quiet look-out for a perfume new and very much my own.  Could something so blue paint me out of my fragrance funk?  And that ad, so crime-scene-chic.  

Available for purchase here.

[the quoted from ASVOF]

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

star mist velvet travelvet


"A star fell: as so often annoyingly happens, it fell not quite in his field of vision, but off to the side, so that his eye caught only the twinge of a soundless change in the sky. . .'Travel,' said Martin softly, and he repeated this word for a long time, until he squeezed all meaning out if it, upon which he set aside the long, silky skin it had shed - and next moment the word returned to life. 'Star. Mist. Velvet. Travelvet,' he would articulate carefully and marvel every time how tenuously the sense endures in the sound. In what a remote spot this young man had arrived, what far lands he had already seen, and what was he doing here, at night, in the mountains, and why was everything in the world so strange, so thrillful? 'Thrillful,' Martin repeated aloud, and liked the word. Another star went tumbling." 

[Glory by Vladimir Nabokov, chapter 11]

Monday, January 5, 2009

Writings Post no. 2

(A sequel of sorts to this.)

Teary Ole’ Blue Eyes by Genevieve

I look back and wave goodbye, but they’ve already gone.  I’ll miss you, I think.  My snowshoes disappear as I step toward the spiral staircase.  I whoosh down the smooth glass handrail, landing with a flump! in a grand bathtub filled with cotton socks. They tell me they are visiting.  I was visiting once, I say, but now I am going home.  I throw one leg over the edge of the tub and hoist myself onto the rim.  Below, I see a man in a glowing pink wetsuit waiting patiently in a tugboat.  I pluck two extraordinary feathers from my headdress and watch as they drift downward, landing lightly at his feet.  He tosses me a rope so that I can swing onboard. 

On my way down, I stop and share my graham crackers with the Sun. We talk about our favorite.  Mine is cursive and his is passion.  The Sun’s eyelids grow heavy, though.  I see that it is time leave, and we dance goodbye. 

Once I am on deck, the man in the glowing pink wetsuit hands me a sticker.  I put it on my forehead and smile.  I sit on the edge of the tugboat and dangle my feet in the water, making ripples that throw each one of you a kiss.  The man warns me to be wary of the jubbies.  Lucky for me, I have three jubbies in my ocean at home, and I remember how much they adore Abazaba Bars.  In the distance, the magenta lighthouse illuminates our path, now that the Sun has gone to bed.

At last, the tugboat shimmies to the dock and I walk down the plank on my tiptoes.  In front of me, I see my razz-ma-tazz tree dressed in baubbles and bubbles and beautiful bangles.  Bright bulbs shed light on every branch, and I notice my fort under the stairs.  Everyone is inside, playing dominos and baking cinnamon cakes so light and lofty they graze the ceiling.  They are tickled to see me, of course.  I give them their presents – a yak for my father, Versailles for my mother, and a flask filled with contagious laughter for my brother.  They thank me, and I feel content.  My eyelids grow heavy, and I snuggle into my jimjams.  Curling up on my featherbed in my fort under the stairs, I bob to sleep in my kind of town.


Sunday, January 4, 2009

Dinner Outdoors

She was a woman who, between courses, could be graceful with her elbows on the table. [Henry James]

I am just taken by the idea of throwing outdoor dinner parties in surprising places (second-hand inspiration credit going to Jordan Ferney.) Jordan threw a 31st birthday party for a friend on the Aquatic Park Pier in San Francisco - the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, and the lights of the city framed the gathering and served as the ultimate setting.  The table was brilliantly set, LED votives were used in place of candles, and food was creatively prepared/packaged. 

While current evening weather isn’t ideal for an outdoor dinner party, it absolutely will become that way and – to that end – why not start planning now? 

I could send these simple and sincere invitations.

I would wear this dress.

And I’d be sure to serve this with heirloom tomatoes, homemade bread, and cheeses.

Tentative inaugural outdoor dinner party location: the beach.

Rest assured: more to come.

[Jordan Ferney post via Joanna Goddard at Smitten]