I hope those of you (weirdos) who do love halloween have fun this eve.
(much as I hate dressing up I would really love to dress up the rabbit. Purely for the look of wrath I know such an indignity would evoke on his furry little face)
I don't like Halloween. I know that this along with the fact that I don't love Autumn makes me a hopelessly grumpy old bastard but I don't care. Normally I hide at halloween. I turn down invitations, refuse to entertain the notion of dressing up and turn all the lights off in case the neighbour's kids see that we're in and turn up on our doorstep expecting sweets in exchange for doing bugger all besides donning a flammable polyester 'costume' that will be in the bin come tomorrow mornin. Bah humbug.
This halloween I won't hide though, I won't hide because one of my very favouritest ladies is coming to town from way way over the ocean and we will meet and we will cake and we will chat and we will coffee and we will explore my favourite city which doesn't need silly old halloween because it is proper spooky and scary and there are ghosties down every alleyway and ancient haunted graveyards on every corner.
* photograph by the Husband, who captures Embra's spookiness better than anyone I know
A few small pieces from my life of late.
A noticeboard that hangs above my desk to inspire. There are, perhaps, an embarrassing number of pictures of my boy but fuck it, I love him.
Jeans, rediscovered. I had forgotten how at home I feel in clothes that are just far too big. With holes in. Whenever I wear them people ask me if they're my husband's. Which is silly. One, he's almost a foot taller than me. Two, he does not have a 26inch waist.
One arts degree, which packs up most neatly into two bin bags and an invoice for quite a lot of student loan.
A new bag. Not just any new bag but the first handbag I have ever owned. Seriously. I've had school bags and I've had shopping bags and I've had quite a few bags that came free with magazines. For years these have served me well but it was time to grow up. Now I have a bag with a zip. And pockets.
My last cup. I try not to moan but every morning I want to hit the Boy as he sits there over breakfast with his perfect French press coffee. Bastard.
I know it doesn't look like an improvement but trust me, it is.
Clever LPC was right, I didn't need a month to throw out all of our junk. I did need three weekends without weddings to tackle the kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, sitting room and hallway, to get rid of shit like this that has been hiding in forgotten drawers for a year or three. Now only the office is left. If only I could rouse myself to actually go inside it at the weekends.
Instead, I'd much rather go out and buy cake and figs.
(addendum, bag is from Matt and Nat, swallow jacket is from Topshop and is positively ancient, mug is from Emma Bridgewater)
I don't know where time goes. I sit and I work and I don't do an awful lot else and yet by the end of the day, after 7 hours in front of the computer I've done about 3 hours worth of anything useful. Perhaps I should start chronicalling my days.
. images from Alyson Provax's Time Wasting Experiment. Prints available on etsy
Today I want this outfit. I would dance my little socks off in it. And drink champagne. Actually I would drink rum cocktails, I don't really like champagne. I would wear false lashes and paint my toenails shocking pink. My legs wouldn't be a deathly shade of blue because it wouldn't be October in Scotland and I would be having a fabulous party with my fantastic Mr because our house would be done and ready to have friends over and there would be loud music because we would have lovely neighbours who would never complain and all of my dearest friends would be there because there would be no such thing as geographical distances and oceans and continents that take days and moneys to cross and oh wouldn't it all be fun? See you there? Dress code: Fabulous.
Yes yes, I know it's not Monday but Boy and I were working on Saturday so we pretended yesterday was Sunday and had a day of wondering and the cinema and cardamom buns and visiting mothers and grandfathers (two mothers, just one grandfather) and chatting round the dinner table and driving home in the dark trying to stay awake. So today is Monday. Yes it is. Because I say so, aright? Good.
This Monday I'm thinking about big wheels, and thus (of course) Coney Island (baby) and I'm listening to songs that make me smile. Elsewhere big wheels are called ferris wheels. I like our name better, mostly because big is a good sensible word and ferris is a silly word, the meaning of which I'm not entirely sure.
I'm thinking about big wheels because the fabulous racheljan has started a new flickr group called Ferris Wheel Love, from whence all of these beauties came...
The songs that I'm listening to that make me smile and make be happy and make me glad that it's Monday and I'm getting a little work done are this one and this one and this one and this one.
I hope you're having a happy Monday, or whatever day it is where you are.
credits:
1 Ferris Wheel, by youaremyfave
2 I Love Them by racheljan
3 untitled, by Simply Hue
4 Bucket Seat, by youaremyfave
For the last few years I've been desperate for a big dog. I've also been quite keen on a small baby (I waver more on the baby than I do on the dog).
This series of pictures by Emmy Anne at A Dirty Blonde however has convinced me that there is simply no point in having one without the other.
So. Big dog and small baby it is then. One day
So if you happen to be within sensible distance (damn Scotland, damn it to hell) of Los Alamos California and need some custom invitations, paper goods or miscellany get thee to Cevd, post haste.
(you might just find a little something made in Scotland there, one day soon. In the meantime Cevd is the exclusive stockist of Jamie, Ms Desertfete's new line of paper goods. )
. images from Pretty Pretty Paper
Note to self, buy test tubes and labels before trip to NYC. And protective gloves.
The bug section was always my favourite in the museum. The bugs and the gemstones. I've always liked shiny things, precious things.
It's missing a few of my gran's choice phrases but I'm not sure that anyone but my gran says dengity. Or go and fachle your wachle. I think it's a scottish highland kind of a thing.
Flowers and birdcages for girlies who like to look at pictures of flowers (because they kill the real thing) and buy bircages (because they're all vintagey and curvy) and biplanes and trees for boys who like to climb trees (jut 'cause) and whose graddaddies flew funny little planes in the olden days.
I know we're supposed to be over the moustache as accessory/icon/whatever but I like them. Bite me.
Simple Little Ring by Kateszabone.
Let's just call this what it is shall we? A Cristmas list.
In silver. With a white saphire. Size 5.
Thanks.
And maybe winter won't be so awful either, with bare trees and crispy light and husbands* in hats on bridges with yummy things in bags.
* my behatted broken boy is on the mend, he can walk without a broom and he can even drive a little. He thanks you for all your well wishes. After a very odd couple of weeks life is righting itself again.
In obsessively scouring Design*Sponge looking for a little inspiration for our little home, I came across this little home. This little home with rabtz.So the boy and I aren't nearly hip enough for all that orange and vintage formica but I love anyway. Because there are rabtz. And because they have made the place very very their own, which is what we want to do with our house. And because there are rabtz. With their own little specially designed bunny box. Note to self: find a less visually offensive house for the rabbit.
This place belongs to Kristen of deluxa and her musicy boyfriend. And their rabtz.
* images by Lorie Reilly and via Design*Sponge and Kristen's blog
hullo chickens, sorry I've been gone. I have a broken husband you see, and a lot to do. And a bathroom that doesn't work and a head that's slightly fuzzy. And whenever I stop working (and sometimes when I start) (and occasionally in the middle)- a tailspin of panic. So, I've been working. Working working working. Working so much that I worked right through an appointment that I've been waiting 21 months for and didn't realise until 5 days later. Whoops. I also forgot to blog, or answer emails or, well pretty much do anything.
Poor broken husband isn't faring too well either. He busted his knee, it hurts, it makes him grumpy (although he's doing an admirable job at pretending it doesn't make him grumpy) and aside from 2 hours at the hospital he hasn't left the house for 10 days. On the upside... I'm a jumpy kind of a girl and it doesn't matter if he enters a room slowly or quickly, quietly or loudly, while my back's turned or while I'm facing the door, the sudden appearance of my husband in a room that I've been alone in for more than 5 minutes scares the crap out of me. But not this week! He can hardly leave he sofa and when he does he has to lean on a broom handle to walk. What with the clunk clunk clunk the bugger's not going to be sneaking up on me any time soon.
In other, completely unrelated, news. Don't you love love love the trailer for Where the Wild Things Are*? It's booful. And have you seen Away We Go? It's funny. Very. And did you know that Battlestar Gallactica isn't sci fi boy crap but is actually terribly good? (Um, yeah, I've been spending all that time that I've been not blogging and not answering emails watching sci fi boy crap on the sofa with my husband)
* can you believe that I'd never heard of Where the Wild Things Are until husband mentioned it to me a few years ago? Before you write off my childhood as entirely deprived of literary culture and learning though, bear in mind that by the age of 8 I could recite this great work of genius by heart. I still can.
