Cranberries and confusion...

In a slightly belated gesture I would like to offer up these cranberries along with a wish for a very happy Thanksgiving for my American readers...

I've never known if it's a faux pas to wish somebody a Happy Whatever when the Whatever is something that you and/or your culture doesn't celebrate. Like when somebody Jewish tells you they're celebrating Rosh Hashanah or your Muslim friend mentions that their family are coming to town for Eid, do they think you're completely nuts if you wish them a happy day when you have no idea what that day actually entails or symbolises? Or is it just good manners?

Personally not to wish them a Happy Whatever would feel like not wishing someone a happy birthday (and if that birthday greeting happens to come a day late, well that's absolutely no indication of a lack of sincerity and more a sign that the well wisher might be suffering a loss of their short term memory which may or may not be an irreversible side effect of some obnoxious medication they're on, in which case you shouldn't be pissed off that your dear friend forgot Thanksgiving/your birthday but pat them on the head and tell them no one needs their short term memory anyway. Either way, they really do mean it when they say have a happy day, even if the day in question was yesterday.)

But maybe I'm wrong? Maybe you should just smile and say 'well enjoy your day' (which seems a little frosty to me.) What do you think? Are there official guidelines on this matter?

I bought my first fresh cranberries this week and I baked these scones with them. They were delicious and before I'd had a chance to photograph the end result, we'd eaten them all. I changed the recipe slightly. I used normal lemons (I've no idea what meyer lemons are. Any info people?) and used half a cup of milk and half a cup of natural yoghurt instead of the cup of double cream which not only seemed ridiculously decadent but was absent from our fridge where there just happened to be an excess of out of date milk and yoghurt (don't look so disgusted, they were cooked at 270 (400 for the Americans) degrees I'll have you know - nothing that's likely to kill you can survive being cooked at 270 degrees *coughalmostcertainlycough*).

I had no idea that this was what the inside of a cranberry looked like. I thought that they would be red and juicy all the way though, like blackcurrants. Apparently they don't taste good raw, I wouldn't know, I make The Boy taste things I'm unsure about first. I try to mask it as generosity - 'no dear, you have the first bite' but I think he knows I'm just using him.

I had my first Thanksgiving dinner a few weeks ago. Hosted by one Canadian and one American, it was an Americadian Thanksgiving, held exactly half way between the two festivals. I discovered two things; I swoon in the presence of an American accent (so exotic! Just like a film star!) And pumpkin pie is horrible. I do however like cornbread stuffing and I've been fantasising about it ever since.

Photos by me.

China and cashmere...

As if the objects themselves were not gorgeous enough, the photographs of Caroline Swift's ethereal ceramics, organic glass shapes and understated cashmere are just delicious.

The most delicate wafer thin bowls



The most elegant cashmere cardigans



The most beautiful and ethereal objects



Vases to hold, to touch, to fill with a single perfect specimen



Bone china spoons. To eat breakfast? Perhaps not. To treasure? Most definitely.



Leaves fluttering to the floor



Orange glass to catch the light



Felt packaging, to wrap precious things




Dresses of the softest Italian linen to dress the part while you live your simple, chic life. Surrounded by objects too beautiful to imagine.



All pieces by Caroline Swift, an English artist who believes in the pleasure of slow, understated, timeless luxury.

Because puppies are not the only cute...

What with all my whining about wanting a puppy you may have found yourself under the impression that I am suffering a deficit of fluffy love in my life which isn't true, I'm just greedy.

While I have these boys I really have no business coveting owls, pygmy hippos or the cutest damn puppy in the whole bloggy world...

The Bunny

Although The Boy says that 'boys' really isn't accurate, seeing how we chopped their testicles off. (Not personally, we paid someone qualified to undertake the task. It cost a lot of money, £40 per testicle but at least now they don't spray pee on the walls and hardly ever hump each other's heads)


The Rabbit

The Rabbit doesn't give me much fluffy love, in fact I'm pretty sure he hates us. But it's ok, he's gorgeous and his indignation is really quite hilarious so we tolerate the silent 'fuck you' that emanates from him all day, every day.



The Bunny however is a darling and is more than willing to lie in your armpit for hours on end, licking your shoulder and shnuffling in your ear. Which makes up for the fact that he pees on himself and the floor and shoots poop like a popcorn machine.



Occasionally The Rabbit admits that he is not in fact the supreme being and does need sustenance beyond his disdain for the human population, giving in to showing the behaviour of mere mortals - drinking, digging and eating his own poop. Did you know that rabbits eat their own shit? Adorable.



Who would have thought it of that nose?


Photos by me and The Boy.

Party dresses...

Reiss is my very favourite clothes shop, it's a shame that I can't afford a damn thing from there and I just destroyed the only item of clothing I've ever bought from them - a perfect pair of wide leg, grey linen-esque trousers that I've worn and loved for 7 years and that I hoped would survive at least another 7, or until they don't fit me any more, which I bought for £15, reduced from £100. Seven damn years before I put them in the wash at 60 degrees instead of 40. Fuck.

I nearly bought my wedding dress from Reiss, and then I nearly bought a second wedding dress from Reiss and then I nearly bought a 'it's the week of the wedding and I need something beautiful to wear' dress from Reiss and now the buggers are tempting me to buy a 'it's nearly Christmas and although I never go to parties I need a party dress' dress...

Despite having expensive taste I manage to exert an admirable level of control over what I actually buy (which is very little these days). For which I think I deserve a reward, say.... a deliciously fruffly (feather shapes + ruffles = fruffles) black silk dress....

All dresses from....Reiss and all pictures link to the delight in question.

Because...

...I want a dog (any dog, even a stupid one) and it's nice to be reminded of a day when my head wasn't full of snot nor were my boobs inexplicably damp.

A little something from the day after the wedding, when The Boy and I got all dressed up and went to play in the gardens.

Photo by The Boy

Things I need....

1. Directions to your favourite photographer's websites - I am finally making one and I need inspiration.

2. A cure for the flu - I have an interesting strain, the most distressing symptom of which is waking up at 7.30am with extremely sweaty boobs. Now I know you don't want to know that I have sweaty boobs but it's perplexing me so much I really felt that I had to share this symptom with anyone who will listen and as I can't get off the sofa and I have a captive audience at my mercy it is you unfortunate bastards who will be privy to the information. Make of it what you will.

3. A puppy.

4. Or a small owl. I'd really like a small owl.

(For those who are not owl aware, this one is the size of a small guinea pig. And you might want to turn off the volume, the people who filmed this are really quite annoying.)

I would appreciate it if you could help me with any of the above. Ta. You will be repaid in snotty hankies, the only currency in which I'm rich. Or love and gratitude, I have those too. Take your pick.

I can't decide...

I can't decide if this is gorgeous or if it looks like an unfortunate incident in a feather and glue factory...

Bijou by Elizabeth Filmore.

A little something missing...

So, those who have been following my bridal adventures may have noticed a little something missing from my wedding attire...

The controversial bird cage veil that I loved and The Boy, well The Boy did not, but that I was going to wear anyway because I loved it and it made me smile never made it to the wedding. About a week before the big day I'd had enough with playing bride, dressing up wasn't fun any more and I just wanted to feel like myself. The veil was fun, but it wasn't me. I don't wear veils, brides wear veils but I didn't want to be a Bride any more, I just wanted to be me, marrying the man that I love, in a wedding dress.

In planning the wedding it seemed that becoming a Bride for the day was pretty much a given and as such I had to do the things that turn a normal woman into a Bride - white dress, veil, bouquet, bridesmaids, lacy undies, expensive make up. It seemed that being me wasn't enough, that a woman without all that crap isn't special enough to get married and a week before the wedding I couldn't take it any more. So the veil was ditched and honestly, I was so happy without it. When I looked in the mirror I looked like myself. Sure there was a wedding dress, and a bouquet and two pretty minions with flowers to do my every bidding and that was enough to make me Bride, but those things actually made me a little uncomfortable and I wished that I felt a little more myself, a little less Weddingy. Me in a veil would just have taken the Wedding Game a little too far.

Playing Bride was fun for a while, but I didn't want to play on my wedding day. I was tired of dress up, I just wanted to be me, marrying him. Which as it turns out was quite special enough for both of us.

That's not to say I don't love a veil on other women, veils can be utterly fabulous and if you're comfortable playing Bride then I absolutely say go for it. Even if just for the reason that veils make for the best photos!


Photo by Lillian and Leonard and via the blog.

The love for The Shoes....

It started with this photo which I found when a lovely lady sent me a link to her lovely blog...

It continued with this dress...

(which with a sprinkle of magic turned into this dress...)

And all hope was lost when I saw these...

Then these tickled my sense of humour...

And these my sense of style...

This melted my heart...

And this filled me with wanderlust...

And when I saw these I knew I had been lucky enough to glimpse a heaven it was unlikely I would ever touch...

And then I dropped dead. For the love of shoes and other ridiculously gorgeous things.


All of these images were taken by the very talented Marie Labbancz and came via her blog, Art of Love.

Love + Marriage

I am in love with these new images from photographer Max Wanger. Max is an editorial photographer based in LA who is breaking into the world of weddings and his photos are just delicious. They inspire a rather unpleasant jealousy in me, both as a bride and a photographer; I want pictures of me and The Boy that are that beautiful and I want to take pictures of others that are that beautiful. Sigh....

Photos courtesy of Max Wanger

Conversation in the pet shop...

A boy and a girl are in the pet shop, Boy had taken Girl to the pet shop to show her their new 'rescue' animal corner, populated with (you'll never guess...) animals that need re-homed.

Boy: Look, there's Max, the rabbit I was telling you about. Isn't he lovely?

Girl: Oh my goodness! Look at the rat! He's a rex! Oh isn't he lovely? He likes me! (she squeals as an adorable rat rushes over to the front of his tank and starts sniffing at her fingers through the edge of the door)

Boy; That's not a rex (unsaid: you idiot). That's a bald rat.

Girl; No it's not, it's a rex, look his head's fluffy...

Boy; Yeah, but the rest of him is bald...

Girl; Oh dear lord, it's a bald rat! Can we have the bald rat? Pleeeeease? I lovvvvvve him. Love him love him love him! Who else is going to want a bald rat? How much does a rat house cost?

Now I know that you get fancy, intentionally bald rats but I'm pretty sure that this was a special needs rat. He did not look nearly as chipper as this fella, in fact he looked downright dreadful. I'm in love. After musing that I really do have a thing for the completely buggered ones, The Boy is wondering if I only took him home because I knew no one else would have him.

Unfortunately we didn't come home with a bald rat. Our vets bills for the rabbits are already exorbitant, we just can't afford another critter. But damn did I love that rat. I'm thinking of going back with my camera just for you East Side.


(image source)

A sigh of relief and tears of disappointment....

It hasn't quite sunk in for me what it means that Barack Obama won the American presidential election, it is bigger than I can take it. Big enough to make me cry into my dinner tonight as the delectable Jon Snow spoke to this girl on the news tonight.

Tears of rage also filled my eyes as I watched the results come in on Propositions 8 and 102 and Arkansas' Initiative 1 and any joy I may feel over the presidential victory is tempered by the passing of these enormous abuses of human rights. I don't have words for how angry and physically ill this makes me, but LGBTQ friends and those who stand by them, please know that in my household tonight anger and sadness beat any ability to celebrate.

Keep fighting. But god, I wish you didn't have to.

Go Vote. Now

Dear American readers,



Vote no on Proposition 8. Vote for civil liberties, human rights. Change.

Now.

Thank you.



(photo by Chris Strother, via Steady Happy.)

Woodland wedding....

This is exactly the kind of place we had in mind when we started planning where we would exchange our wedding vows, not some poncy lawn with a poncy castle, pfff....





Woodland wedding, shot by One Love Photo