because I always forget what I want for my birthday and my birthday is coming up (sort of in the way it's always "almost" a little kid's birthday) in a couple of months, here is the beginning of a running list. Iwant:
-This dress. Is it flattering? Almost certainly not. Ask me if I care.
-This scent. (In whatever incarnation.) And the other tomato scent they sell on the site. (One is leaves; one is seeds.) Yes, tomato. That is what I want to smell like. Few things make me happier than a good tomato in the sunshine, and smelling a tomato is about as close as you can get when it's January outside. Don't even talk to me about those pasty, mealy January tomatoes. Those are not even worthy of the name.
Some of those elastic belts. I like those. Also, sparkly clothing, esp. leggings or tank tops. Not so much jackets. Not so much jackets at all. Nor socks, neither.
I really need to shut up and go to bed.
Showing posts with label christmast list. Show all posts
Showing posts with label christmast list. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Friday, December 10, 2010
More on love.
I did mention, didn't I, that I love Neil Gaiman? (Neverwhere was fabulous, by the way. Thanks for asking. My father has now stolen it and will return it before the library due date if he knows what's good for him.)
He was on NPR and I missed it. I didn't even know. What kind of a fan am I? (Obvious and unabashed answer: a bad one.) Luckily for me, my splash of mercy came from, as the LotR screenplay writer might have said, "the most unlikely person imaginable." It came, shockingly, from the administrator of one of those momming facebook groups that I follow. She cared because her friend who does something to do with children got to talk to N.G. about babies or something on the show*. I care because, duh, he is fantastic. Here's the interview.
Golden sentence from said interview, demonstrating a lovely illustration of the difference between "its" and "it's":
"It's its own glorious medium."
Golden quotation from the interview: "comics are a wonderful gateway drug to reading."
<3.
Relatedly, I have decided that I want another of the BAm series 2010 this Christmas: BAm Comics**.
On another note, as I drove back from painting early this afternoon, the sky was gorgeous. (Odd that I noticed, I know.) High above, distinct rays of winter sunlight fanned through the soft cloud cover overhead. Halfway between the treetops and the upper range of my sight, the clouds coalesced into separate, soft shapes--that mini cumulus thing that they do sometimes--and crowded edge to edge across the entire sky, with the sun trickling through them and the whitish blue sky peeking out from behind. The loveliest moment of it was when I drove toward a power pole, and a handful of birds sat scattered across the lines, silhouetted against the winter sky.
And now, please excuse me. I am off to make sweet rolls. Or to try, at least. I haven't done this by myself before. Actually, in the past I've mostly sprinkled flour and stood alongside while my mother makes sweet rolls. So this should be interesting.
*Clearly I stopped paying attention as soon as I saw the important part of the status update.
**I am slightly ashamed of this, because I don't even like comics.
He was on NPR and I missed it. I didn't even know. What kind of a fan am I? (Obvious and unabashed answer: a bad one.) Luckily for me, my splash of mercy came from, as the LotR screenplay writer might have said, "the most unlikely person imaginable." It came, shockingly, from the administrator of one of those momming facebook groups that I follow. She cared because her friend who does something to do with children got to talk to N.G. about babies or something on the show*. I care because, duh, he is fantastic. Here's the interview.
Golden sentence from said interview, demonstrating a lovely illustration of the difference between "its" and "it's":
"It's its own glorious medium."
Golden quotation from the interview: "comics are a wonderful gateway drug to reading."
<3.
Relatedly, I have decided that I want another of the BAm series 2010 this Christmas: BAm Comics**.
On another note, as I drove back from painting early this afternoon, the sky was gorgeous. (Odd that I noticed, I know.) High above, distinct rays of winter sunlight fanned through the soft cloud cover overhead. Halfway between the treetops and the upper range of my sight, the clouds coalesced into separate, soft shapes--that mini cumulus thing that they do sometimes--and crowded edge to edge across the entire sky, with the sun trickling through them and the whitish blue sky peeking out from behind. The loveliest moment of it was when I drove toward a power pole, and a handful of birds sat scattered across the lines, silhouetted against the winter sky.
And now, please excuse me. I am off to make sweet rolls. Or to try, at least. I haven't done this by myself before. Actually, in the past I've mostly sprinkled flour and stood alongside while my mother makes sweet rolls. So this should be interesting.
*Clearly I stopped paying attention as soon as I saw the important part of the status update.
**I am slightly ashamed of this, because I don't even like comics.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
I need to stop buying myself stuff. REALLY. (Help.)
I have a sexy new candy-cane-stripe dress. (And by new, I mean vintage.) I'm definitely not a habitual vintage shopper, but a friend of ours was having a party/open house for her eyeglass shop in the space she's currently sharing with a woman who owns a coffee and tea shop, and we were there, and there were vintage clothes there as well. And jewelry. And chocolate-dipped strawberries.
Possibly that didn't make sense. These people that live behind us? River (daughter, Chloe's age), her brothers, Cynthia (mom) and Bruce (dad)? They are our friends. Cynthia owns an eyeglass store. It caught on fire. The coffee/tea shop next to hers also caught fire. Now they are sharing space a few doors down. They had a party. It was pretty great, because now I have a new dress. I'm having a little trouble figuring out what to wear with it though, as winter tends to be a little chilly for mid-thigh-length sleeveless dresses, and I don't know how to match things.
Christmas list update: I really want buckyballs (from thinkgeek.com). I also really want grey tights, white tights, and jeggings (don't judge me). I also REALLY want Spill & Spell (they still sell it! At Barnes and Noble!) and Set (also sold at B&N!). Really though I mostly only want Set because the last and only time I played it, I got beat repeatedly by a six year old, and that isn't really okay with me. I need to practice. To be fair, she beat everyone else too, and every single time (except her older sister--this is a genius family), and she'd start picking up sets before all the cards were even down, but still. She was SIX.
Also, the BAm Nonrequired Reading this year (2010, in case that was unclear: Best American Nonrequired Reading 2010) is edited by Dave Eggers. Want. Also wouldn't mind having the BAm short stories, essays, science writing. Or Bill Bryson's new book, At Home: A Short History of Private Life, because I love him. A lot. Or pretty much any Oliver Sacks book other than The Man Who Mistook His Wife For A Hat, as I believe I've mentioned before.
OR THE NEW WHEEL OF TIME BOOK. Please forgive me for yelling. It's difficult to contain myself. I mean, I know I should wait for the paperback, I know I don't want to own the hardback, but I want to read it NOW. It's called Towers of Midnight, if anyone was wondering. It's written by Brandon (?) (I always get his first name wrong) Sanderson.
Also: Anything by Neil Gaiman that isn't Coraline. Also, 1,000 Things To See Before You Die.
Possibly that didn't make sense. These people that live behind us? River (daughter, Chloe's age), her brothers, Cynthia (mom) and Bruce (dad)? They are our friends. Cynthia owns an eyeglass store. It caught on fire. The coffee/tea shop next to hers also caught fire. Now they are sharing space a few doors down. They had a party. It was pretty great, because now I have a new dress. I'm having a little trouble figuring out what to wear with it though, as winter tends to be a little chilly for mid-thigh-length sleeveless dresses, and I don't know how to match things.
Christmas list update: I really want buckyballs (from thinkgeek.com). I also really want grey tights, white tights, and jeggings (don't judge me). I also REALLY want Spill & Spell (they still sell it! At Barnes and Noble!) and Set (also sold at B&N!). Really though I mostly only want Set because the last and only time I played it, I got beat repeatedly by a six year old, and that isn't really okay with me. I need to practice. To be fair, she beat everyone else too, and every single time (except her older sister--this is a genius family), and she'd start picking up sets before all the cards were even down, but still. She was SIX.
Also, the BAm Nonrequired Reading this year (2010, in case that was unclear: Best American Nonrequired Reading 2010) is edited by Dave Eggers. Want. Also wouldn't mind having the BAm short stories, essays, science writing. Or Bill Bryson's new book, At Home: A Short History of Private Life, because I love him. A lot. Or pretty much any Oliver Sacks book other than The Man Who Mistook His Wife For A Hat, as I believe I've mentioned before.
OR THE NEW WHEEL OF TIME BOOK. Please forgive me for yelling. It's difficult to contain myself. I mean, I know I should wait for the paperback, I know I don't want to own the hardback, but I want to read it NOW. It's called Towers of Midnight, if anyone was wondering. It's written by Brandon (?) (I always get his first name wrong) Sanderson.
Also: Anything by Neil Gaiman that isn't Coraline. Also, 1,000 Things To See Before You Die.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
We had one of those long, mostly substantive talks.
Some lessons learned via said conversation:
I am doing nobody any favors by aspiring to become a career receptionist. That's idiotic.
Mutable schedules? No. Things happen When They Are Scheduled. Even if I am the one who scheduled them. Period.
I will get up at 9 or earlier. Period.* This "sleeping until I have something to do" thing has got to stop.
Art Time will be from 10-noon.**
Other things can be scheduled around these.
On another note, the palette of the river has been so lovely lately. All made up of the most delicate shades of purple, blue, pink, and grey. Every time I cross it I wish I could just stop on the bridge and get out, and stare or paint or at the very least take pictures. I love going with people to the river, but I always feel pushed to move on more quickly than I would to the next thing. Left to my own devices I will sometimes just look at the water for an hour or more. Usually, of course, there is something else that needs to be done before so much time has passed. I sat with David by the river once, the powerful Rappahannock, a week after we broke up. We just watched the water rush by, and talked very little as I remember. That night we were rushed to dinner only by the cold of a March evening.
I left my tea like an idiot while I got dressed earlier, and I let it steep far too long. It's bitter. And I have promised myself to cut back on the ungodly amounts of honey I use in tea, so I am just drinking it bitter. English Breakfast tea, too. What a shame. Still, it's nice to have time to drink tea in the morning. And all because I got out of bed at 9ish. Mmmm.
*Well, my alarm went off at 9 today, but I actually "got up" about 15-20 minutes later. But that's a start, right? Particularly considering that I don't have anywhere to be until nearly 11.
**I felt a lot more adamant about this last night, but I am going to try to stick with it, even if only for the sake of having some structure in my day, and particularly something to get up for. For discipline. And I think better when I spend time painting. I breathe better. Maybe I'll add "blank stretched canvasses" to that Christmas list. And Bailey's. Did I say Bailey's before? And dark brown Uggs. Don't judge me. They're the warmest things I have ever put on my feet.
I am doing nobody any favors by aspiring to become a career receptionist. That's idiotic.
Mutable schedules? No. Things happen When They Are Scheduled. Even if I am the one who scheduled them. Period.
I will get up at 9 or earlier. Period.* This "sleeping until I have something to do" thing has got to stop.
Art Time will be from 10-noon.**
Other things can be scheduled around these.
On another note, the palette of the river has been so lovely lately. All made up of the most delicate shades of purple, blue, pink, and grey. Every time I cross it I wish I could just stop on the bridge and get out, and stare or paint or at the very least take pictures. I love going with people to the river, but I always feel pushed to move on more quickly than I would to the next thing. Left to my own devices I will sometimes just look at the water for an hour or more. Usually, of course, there is something else that needs to be done before so much time has passed. I sat with David by the river once, the powerful Rappahannock, a week after we broke up. We just watched the water rush by, and talked very little as I remember. That night we were rushed to dinner only by the cold of a March evening.
I left my tea like an idiot while I got dressed earlier, and I let it steep far too long. It's bitter. And I have promised myself to cut back on the ungodly amounts of honey I use in tea, so I am just drinking it bitter. English Breakfast tea, too. What a shame. Still, it's nice to have time to drink tea in the morning. And all because I got out of bed at 9ish. Mmmm.
*Well, my alarm went off at 9 today, but I actually "got up" about 15-20 minutes later. But that's a start, right? Particularly considering that I don't have anywhere to be until nearly 11.
**I felt a lot more adamant about this last night, but I am going to try to stick with it, even if only for the sake of having some structure in my day, and particularly something to get up for. For discipline. And I think better when I spend time painting. I breathe better. Maybe I'll add "blank stretched canvasses" to that Christmas list. And Bailey's. Did I say Bailey's before? And dark brown Uggs. Don't judge me. They're the warmest things I have ever put on my feet.
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