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These Haagen-Daz comercials found their way to my computer while I was watching The Office Finale. (The Office is over! Sniff.) Anyway, I loved them both! And now, thanks to the successful marketing of Haagen-Daz, not only do I want ice cream, I also want to go back to Rome, cook Italian food, and watch Swan Lake. Le sigh.
Okay, now that I have typed the phrase busy bee, all I can think of is that scene in Gladiator where Commodus has reached a-place-that-is-beyond-creepy and he calls Lucillia a busy bee. I always want to scream at Lucillia to just grab her kid and leave the palace.
But I wanted to pop in for a minute to once again apologize for not posting and to assure you that I am still alive and well! I’ve been in over my head in events, planning and projects. The picture above shows the sewing project I’ve been working on – 20+ Shakespearean shirts for a middle school production of Taming of the Shrew. Ooo, ooo, that Shakespearean rag. . .
And to add to the randomness of this post, here is a poem for you:
MORNING AT THE WINDOW
by: T.S. Eliot (1888-1965)
THEY are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,
And along the trampled edges of the street
I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids
Sprouting despondently at area gates.
The brown waves of fog toss up to me
Twisted faces from the bottom of the street,
And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts
An aimless smile that hovers in the air
And vanishes along the level of the roofs.
So, remember how I had a picture of just my mismatched socks a post or two ago? This is how it started. My two-stepping fanatic of a roommate asked me to go out two-stepping and line dancing with her at a country bar. Fun right?
But, before you go two stepping you have to dress for the part, right? Line dancing in ballet flats just doesn’t work. Have a look at these adorable boots. Such a lovely color of suede. They aren’t mine, they are another roommate’s who couldn’t got out with us that night because she was at a gala or something.
Cute right? Oh, yes so cute. And deceitfully small. I was able to pull them on just fine.
But taking them off was another story. After the roomie and I got home, I sat down to take off my cute boots. The right boot came off just fine, but the left would. not. budge. My roommate had to tug, and pull, and tug some more to get that darned boot off. I was starting to worry. Would I have to cut the boot off? That seemed a little drastic. Would I have to sleep in it? Perhaps the dancing made my feet swell and if I slept with my foot elevated I could get the boot off in the morning (okay later that day, who are we kidding really? It’s like 2 a.m. here.). But I was determined that I was not going to sleep with one boot on. Diddle, diddle dumpling.
I asked dear roomie to try pulling it off one more time. And praise the Heavens, off it came! And I’ve never been so happy to see my mismatched socks in all my life!
My roommate found this video produced by BBC. Apparently they have a whole series of Horrible Histories – I thought this one was particularly funny!
Two items of note: 1) Film above is the story of Dick Turpin which is romanticized by William Harrison Ainsworth in his novel Black Bess, of The Knight of the Road. 2) In case you were wondering, from what I can tell the poem The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes is based in Scotland, not England, on a generic highwayman character, not Dick Turpin, but I could be wrong.
P.S. Did you know that Alfred Noyes converted to Catholicism?
So I was nominated for the Liebster award a while ago, by Martha at Romancing Reilly, and then again by Joannie at Joan in Ordinary Time. So I’ll come clean and pass the mention on. Thanks girls, I am so flattered!
(You are probably wondering why I have a picture of my feet in mismatched socks. Well, that is how I feel about answering all these questions, a little awkward – like a pair mismatched socks. And, before you start worrying that I went out in public like that, I did have my socks hidden in a cute pair of boots – more on that later.) Read the rest of this entry »
“Have you noticed that Hipsters have all the latest technological gadgets that come from a company named after a fruit, but they like vintage things? And scarves. Why is that?” my roommate pondered out loud the other day.
“I don’t know,” I said, as I scrolled through my twitter feed on my fruit-company produced phone. “I guess they think it’s ironic or something. You know, the dichotomy between old and new.” I stopped for a minute to re-adjust my cashmere scarf, and then propped my feet up on the steamer trunk I use for a coffee table.
As I continued scrolling, I started thinking, “I like vintage things, I have a fruit phone, I am wearing a scarf right now . . . what! No! She couldn’t be?”
“Waaaiiit a minute,” I protested, catching the accusing twinkle in her eye, “are you calling me hipster? I am totally not a hipster! I’ve only had this phone three months. Besides, I liked vintage stuff way before the hipsters.”
Then the roomie started laughing at me. Because I had just uttered the words that would confirm hipsterishness more than anything – I liked ____ (insert whatever it is you like) before _____ (mainstream popularity).
“But I did!” I wailed, “I’ve collected vintage and antique stuff since high school!”
“You own a fruit-computer that you keep in a vintage-book-looking-case.” The roommate continued.
I was going reply that, “I got the case before anyone else knew about them.” But that didn’t sound convincing.
Is it true? As we speak there is a Kombucha mushroom dying a slow and painful death on my counter because I haven’t fed it in a while, but I started the scoby from scratch on my own. And there are Keifer grains in my fridge. Am I a hipster? Nooo, it can’t be true. I love pearls, high heels, and Chanel perfume. I am not a hipster. And I don’t own a bike. There, see that is key, I don’t own a bike. I am not a hipster. And I like Cadbury eggs and black jelly beans which are probably the most processed foods you can find on this green earth. And Cheetos. I love Cheetos.
“Hrumph,” I said, “I am not hipster.” My roommate just continued laughing a me. I think I need to start wearing more preppy clothes or something, loose the scarves for a while. Maybe take sailing lessons. . .
I’ve been thinking the past few days that sometimes it’s the little things that take the most courage:
1) Driving in the 1″ of snow. (I was terrified folks! Simply terrified!)
2) Getting up on time every day without hurling the alarm across the room. (Maybe that is more perseverance. At any rate, I still think it takes courage to get out of bed in the morning – you may have run out of coffee, there is a thought to strike terror into your heart.)
3) Wiping off the customary blank face and smiling at a stranger.
4) Calling the landlord to tell him the heater is broken.
5) Going down to the basement to change your laundry when no one else is home.
Little things in life take a little bit of daring.
So it’s been depressing as all get-out here, the rain never stops. It’s overcast and gloomy. I’ll admit that I don’t handle the cold very well, but I do better when there is quantitative amounts of sunshine. So, to brighten your day(and mine), here are a few clips.
A happy music video full of sunshine!
Make a bowl and eat it all! (Just remember what your mother told you about eating raw egg.)
Information on deserts to take your mind off all the nasty rain.
Don’t forget, summer clothes! Vogue fashion shows for Spring/Summer 2013.
St. Scolastica the patroness of weather.
Homemade Limoncello - it’s like sunshine in a bottle.
Um, because it was too funny not to include.
I’m back! I need to load a few photos Poland so I can share them with you. In the mean time I’ve been running around catching up on stuff that has piled up while I was gone. Like put air in the tires of my car.
But can I first share with you the funniest moment ever? The first day there I was walking down the street near the center square in Krakow. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, I was staring at the huge market hall in the middle of the sqaure, when I almost ran into a pole.
Okay maybe it wasn’t that funny. But when you have just arrived in the EU after a transatlantic just about anything is hilarious! Esp. when I tried to vocalize outloud “I almost ran into a pole” while in Poland. I couldn’t breath for a few seconds after because I was laughing so hard.
- My coffee cup from Dunkin’ Donuts this morning is red and green with the word Joy printed across the front. Although I do agree that coffee does give me some amount of joy in the mornings, the fact remains that it is still not Christmas yet.
- On my commute there is a reading center called Wright to Read. This really bothers me.
- There is an origami paper crane on my desk. I fold paper cranes when I get phone calls from telemarketers that won’t go away. I just let them talk, say “mmmm hhhhmmm,” and fold. I don’t really listen to what they are saying. Is that bad?
- I am more nerdy than the Classical Radio Station. Sigh. So it has come to this. The other day the radio announcer said that the piece was played by flutist so-and-so, but I am pretty sure it should be flautist.
- As I get older I am realizing more and more that I am becoming full fledge snob. But, I buy coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts, and I like it, so I can’t be too far gone.
- Did you know the first recorded use of snob was in 1781?
- Okay, I am stopping now.