I’m not old, superstitious, or an Arab, but I do believe in this proverb…
“Everything that happens once can never happen again. But everything that happens twice will surely happen a third time.”
I’m away, baking and steaming in Texas. But, the heat I can handle. It’s suburbia that’s stifling. I can only wonder if the sea of sameness bores the sun each morning as it sheds light on the well-manicured lawns? If the sun blazes west towards my Love Affair with fervor and excitement in anticipation of what the new day will bring…
Thank goodness for the icy blues staring back at me as if holding a mirror up to myself, a cool breeze of fresh air.
I’m still staying off my soapbox, but being a Manhattan- ess, I’m rather obsessive about washing my hands. These soap rocks are a perfect replacement and quite grounding. The organic shapes are calming as are the colors, influenced by stones such as amethyst, aquamarine, turquoise, and fire opal. What’s not to love about that?
Not to mention…
Should drama come knocking without an invitation in hand, they’ll come in quite handy. I’m no Madonna, but I have a pretty good arm.
I’m staying off my soap box and washing my hands of all the drama. It’s entirely too messy.
Relief flooding over me as I soak in the here and now, exposing my eyes to a vibrant horizon.
It’s purely grounding.
What a waste it would be to discard my soapbox, though. Now empty, it makes the perfect little container, infusing the contents with the lingering fragrance of blue lotus. A simple purpose and sweet reminder of lessons learned.
Besides…
Best to keep it handy.
Modus Opperandi (that’s the Latin)
Mode of Operation (in plain English)
It’s not a crime.
But it is a Strange Invitation.
And my answer is N.O.
NO.
While grounded in N.Y., my mind is in the clouds thinking of a home far away. Yet, a home always tucked in a place near and dear to my heart.
Take this kiss upon the brow
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! Yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! Can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! Can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
-Edgar Allan Poe
It was such a nice surprise to come across a Pottery Barn gift card tucked away in the lining of one of my bags. I had thought it was stolen along with some other valu bles a few months back. Anyhow, I wandered somewhat aimlessly around the store last week. Nothing particularly interesting caught my eye, the trip turning out to be more of a borish waste of my time. Thank goodness it turns out you can also use the cards at West Elm. They’ve finally updated the color palatte for their canvas storage accessories. I picked up a bunch of the storage bins and magazine butlers in prussian blue. Lined up perfectly, the color is the perfect pop against my all-white home office. What’s more attractive? They’re on sale. Even with the discounted price they are by no means dirt cheap (but who wants that anyways). Still… you’ll definitely get a lot more class for your cash.
Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle was a perfect travel companion on my flight home from Texas.
And…
“If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.” (-KV)
“THESE ARE NOT Bokonon’’s words. They are mine.
Sweet wraith,
Invisible mist of
I am-
My soul-
Wraith lovesick o’erlong,
O’erlong alone:
Wouldst another sweet soul meet?
Long have I
Advised the ill
As to where two souls
Might tryst.
My soles, my soles!
My soul, my soul,
Go there,
Sweet soul;
Be kissed.
Mmmmmmm.”
Hmmmmmm…
Clearly he didn’t have my red-soled Loubies in mind. However, I do have faith, blessed with the bitter-sweet spirit of Irony, that Vonnegut sought for timeless, universal appeal in his writing. So, to each his her own.
Boko-maru anyone?
The image says it all without spelling it out for you. Except that Tori’s coined the cutest phrase and I can’t resist. “Hey Monkey!”
A perfectly simple gift for my simply perfect nephew.
For whatever reason, Auto doesn’t currently sell the Glug Baby T-shirts on their site. But it wouldn’t hurt any of us to shop the old fashioned way.
AUTO
Address
805 Washington Street, (between Horatio + Gansevoort Streets)
Take the A,C,E or 1,2,3 to 14th St. or L to 8th Ave
Contact:
[Tel] 212 229 2292
[Fax] 212 229 0002
[Toll Free] 1 866 568 AUTO
[Email] shop@thisisauto.com
