Cones and myself, just kicking it old school on a Tuesday morn.
35 boxes, 5 hours in Ikea, 3 trips to Target later and I am in my new Chicago pad. The usually steamy July weather has opted to drop the humidity for a while and I’m so grateful, so much so that I try to make out with each breeze that floats through the windows. Thank goodness I now live alone so I no longer have to explain my bizarre behavior, trying to French the air at nine in the morning.
Do I sound a little loopy? Blank walls will do that to a person. I’m also mourning the loss of four brandy glasses, my glass casserole dish, a very cheap picture frame and the desk lamp that I’ve had since college. Also, of all the things not to arrive in my carefully packed boxes- my pasta maker is missing. Always the one thing you love the most is the first one to go.
I’m still looking for inspiration. Here are a few things that have brought me bliss and sweet calm in the bittersweet maelstrom that is moving.
When we first moved into our apartment in LA (The Tree House), we made frequent trips to Goodwill for some local “art.” Among the things we found was a crude remake of this famous print. Imagine my surprise, my flash of heartbreak and joy, when I took a walk near my near my new home, a scant 2,036 miles away, and saw it on the side of a local pub.
When I saw this photo on TiG, I thought “This is it. I could live in this room and be very, very happy.” Since then I’ve pretty much devoted my entire life to making it a reality. How’s that for blog dedication?
Trolling around the blog roll, sometimes I feel like Alice tumbling through the rabbit hole (such a tired analogy. Can’t we all, as a well-rounded society, find something else that’s as whimsical and jarring and delightful to fall through? No? Ok, just checking). Like “Design is Mine” and sister blog “bread & honey.” Speaking of dishes named Alice. Where have these girls been hiding?
For one thing, I have to steal this method of cataloging finds.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard more beautiful words than these, “miniature strawberry bundt cakes.” If I told you I could eat a solid dozen of them right this second, would you believe me? Are you disgusted? I don’t care. You don’t know my life!