I’m obsessed with these retro Color of the Day history lessons from Design*Sponge. I loved the weird and often morbid facts (green wallpaper killed Napoleon! Pigment made from feline mummies!). You can see loads more of them here.
Images courtesy of Design*Sponge.
Acrojou, ‘The Wheel House’ from Acrojou on Vimeo.
Wow, and I thought my house was small! Love this sweet little performance piece, entitled The Wheel House, by Acrojou Circus Theatre. I adore the vaguely steampunk aesthetic, which puts me in the mind of the Dust Bowl and Mad Max all at once. This is my favorite kind of theatre–or any type of art, for that matter–where you can kind of fill in your own story. I especially love when the lady cleans the cut on her guy’s forehead: such tenderness in that tiny space! I could do well to remember that right now. The Boy is building a computer that is roughly the size of our entire living room. I can’t walk two steps without tripping over a monitor or a GPU (whatever the hell that is), and I casually suggested the other day that maybe he and the computer should get their own apartment, and just come me visit on weekends.
Speaking of the tiny cottage: I built a box garden complete with four baby tomato plants! I woke up early to take pictures the next day, only to find that construction workers had set up camp on my patio. Pictures forthcoming, once they depart!
And in other news, my wedding band arrived in the mail the other day. It is beautiful with wee little bows all around the edge. 58 days! Gulp.
Video courtesy of Acrojou Circus Theatre. Definitely check out some of their other work, v. cool.
Today The Boy and I ventured out of the cottage to Galco’s Old World Market, and it was pure delight. I could have spent hours wandering around looking at all the different sodas. Eventually we had to stop ourselves from picking out anymore, because we had so many in the cart already. Still, we walked away with a pretty good selection, including coffee soda, chocolate soda, and two different kinds of cream soda. The best part was the owner, featured in the video above, who walked around offering friendly suggestions. When I asked him if he had a favorite cream soda, he said “No!” the same way parents do when asked if they have a favorite kid. He then proceeded to walk me up and down the aisles explaining the differences between all the different creams the same way a sommelier might talk about fine wines. It was totally perfect, and thus far our selections have been superb.
Video courtesy of CHOW.com
It’s official: wedding planning has swallowed me whole. Turns out, planning a wedding in under five months from more than 3,000 miles away is CRAZY. Go figure! People keep asking me bizarre questions like “What are your colors?” (what the heck? why can’t I have all the colors?), and “What’s your signature drink?”, and “What kinds of favors are you doing?”, and up until now I’ve had no answers to any of these questions. There’s just so many logistical moving parts to organize that, until this week, I haven’t even thought about any of the fun wedding things like flowers or sparklers. But all of the big things are locked down at this point, so I’m finally allowing myself to use Pinterest again, and I’ve begun to think about how I want this party to look and feel beyond “well, there should be chairs.” So I thought I’d share some of the exciting details that are starting to fall into place.
I stole this picture from Pioneer Woman, who bought these chalkboard placemats, but my wonderful father is actually making eighty of these babies for all the tables. Aren’t they so sweet? I think my parents have caught the DIY bug, because my mom is going to spray paint a little pig onto each place mat to match our adorable save the dates:
Aren’t they perfect? They were designed by an extremely talented and sweet friend of a friend, and they make me smile every time I look at them.
These are the pretty farm tables we’re renting for dinner. I’m going to do all the flowers myself, with some helping hands, with this as the guiding inspiration (only with waaay more flowers):
And finally, the best for last: I ordered my shoes. They make me want to cry.
That’s all for now, more updates to come!
All images linked to their sources. Special thanks to Danielle Young for her amazing Save the Date design.
One night, while I was home for Christmas, my dad and I trooped down into the basement to watch a 2005 Bruce Springsteen show in Spain, which my dad had on DVD. It was kind of a cool moment, not just because the show was excellent (it was), but also because it was just neat to sit in the basement with my dad and share something that he thought was really cool. So we struck a deal: if I brought him to a Furthur show, he’d bring me to see Springsteen. Well, two weeks ago I upheld my half of the bargain. The Boy and I flew home to take dad to his very first Furthur show (by the way, this will mark the fourth time that I have actually gotten on a plane to see these bozos play, and the sixth time I have traveled more than a hundred miles).
Would this be my number one favorite Furthur show of all time? Musically speaking, no. As I’ve said before, that’s kind of the delightful and frustrating thing about this music: you never know when lightning will strike. But I will never forget how cool it was to have my dad with me at a show. Of all the people we have introduced to this music, and there have been several, no one was as openminded or sincerely invested as my father. He showed up genuinely excited to participate in this thing The Boy and I are always running off to do. I think this speaks to one of my favorite things about my dad: he has always taken my thoughts, my opinions, and my values seriously. This music is something I really care about, so he wanted to see what it was all about, and I love him for that.
During the set break, my dad turned to me and asked, “So which one of you was a deadhead first?” And I had to say, “Both of us.” The Boy and I fell in love listening to Furthur and the Grateful Dead; you could almost call it the third wheel of our relationship. The very first time we heard Furthur play, we were sitting in camp chairs at a music festival, both completely immobilized by awe and wonder. He told me he loved me for the first time that night. The band played at the same festival again the following year, and that was the night The Boy proposed. I’ve never gone to a show without him, and even though I love this music with all my heart on my own, I’m not sure that I could. So more than anything else, that was the coolest part about sharing this with my dad. With the wedding less than three months away, I got to invite him into my relationship a little, and show him this magical thing that The Boy and I care about together.
UPDATE: My heart goes out to Bob Weir, that magnificent weirdo, in his recovery. Please stay with us, I’m not ready to let go of this music just yet.
The image at top is the sweet poster from Furthur’s Capitol Theatre show on April 20th, which is now rolled up in my closet. Photo courtesy of Furthur.
Loving these illustrations by Yina Kim, from a series entitled “The Secret Knots“. From the artist’s website, “I enjoy studying people in public places and create their lives in my head. Even though most of the people I have created are from my imagination, I have a feeling that I know them unconsciously. I believe that everyone is connected in secret knots.”
I used to do exactly this as a child. I grew up outside of Los Angeles, and I went to school in the city, which meant I had to sit in hours of infamous LA traffic at 5:30 am every morning on my way to school. While my dad listened to NPR, I spied on the strangers in the cars next to us, and imagined what their lives might be like.
The Boy and I are back home on the east coast this week, visiting our folks, playing with dogs, walking in the woods, and making lots of diagrams of The Yard for the wedding (yikes! less than 100 days away!). It’s basically been summer for awhile now in LA, so it’s nice to be back here where the brief warmth and sunshine are so deeply appreciated.
Images courtesy of Yina Kim.
My dear friend Maggie’s mother sent me this TED talk as advice for marriage, and I really felt that I needed to share. It seems I’m a bit late in my discovery, since this is apparently one of the most popular TED talks of all time. Still, even if you’ve seen it, I highly recommend a re-watch.
Brown’s message speaks powerfully to me. Five years ago, I was a very different person. Some mornings I woke and felt like I’d been flayed alive. I ran frantic through the world, trying my hardest not to bump into anything or anyone, lest I feel the searing agony of my exposed flesh. Other days, I woke leaden. All the sadness and shame weighed me down, and I could not get out of bed. My pupils felt over-dilated, so that the light burned my eyes, and all shapes grew shadowy and distorted. I built a wall of artifice around myself, so that no one could ever get too close, and inside my bunker I found all kinds of ways to numb that feeling of unworthiness, as Brown calls it. Until one day, without really meaning to, I let someone see me. Really and truly see all of me. And he decided to love me anyway.
I wish I could say that that was that, but I still had a long way to go. No one but you can make you better. But his love made it possible. Because allowing someone else to see me finally let me see myself. And to my great surprise, being vulnerable was strangely empowering. Being wholehearted and authentic is extremely satisfying. Even so, I’ve had this post sitting on my computer for over a week. I wasn’t so sure about being this open on the internet, where everyone can see. But being open is kind of addictive, so I’m going for it. I dare you to give it a try, as well.
I apologize for all the touchy-feely crap on the blog lately. Back to shiny baubles soon, I swear!
Two nights ago I was sitting in bed, reading. I was a little annoyed because it had been a long day, and it always takes The Boy twice as long as me to get ready for bed. It always takes The Boy twice as long as me to do anything. I looked up and saw him standing in the bathroom, pulling the hair out of my brush. I’m a shedder, and I’m spectacularly lazy, so my hairbrush usually looks less like a brush and more like a large furry paddle. And there he was, pulling the hair clumps out for me, for no good reason.
I’ve been very absent from the blog lately, and I can’t say I’m sorry. Life in the tiny cottage has just been so, so sweet, and there’s nothing else I would rather be doing than sitting here, watching my guy make me pancakes for lunch. We’ve been apart for a very long time, and I think after awhile we both got so used to being not-whole. These days, we’re remembering how to be with each other, how to love someone who’s sitting right there next to you on the couch. I’m enjoying so much that: making him tea in the morning, and grocery shopping together, and talking about what to make for dinner. Other things are less wonderful: the heated arguments in IKEA (is this the mark of an adult relationship?), the fact that he never gives me enough space when I’m writing. But everyday I wake up and learn how to be with him all over again, with all the joy and aggravation that that entails. And it’s pretty grand.
Image via.
Well isn’t this just delightful. A Brooklyn couple built a tiny, one-room cabin inside their apartment, and now they rent the place out on Airbnb. They call it a “one room bed and breakfast”. There’s also a lofted “treehouse” space, where the couple sleeps, which is also available for rent. How nice would it be to have your own little cabin to go home to after a long day exploring the city? The cabin comes highly-reviewed on Airbnb, by the way, and it’s a helluva lot cheaper than even a mediocre hotel.
In other news, wedding planning has swallowed me whole. Hey guys, turns out it’s pretty crazy to try to get married in under five months… who knew??
When The Boy and I first got engaged, I did that thing. That thing where you become obsessed with wedding inspiration on Pinterest, and your head is filled with images of mason jars, and glitter, and peonies. But as soon as that first wave passed, I realized something important: I do not care about having a real wedding. Do not misunderstand me: I love pretty things, and parties, and farms (I mean, seriously). But it was way more important to me that we have the kind of wedding where everyone has a blast, and eats good food, and laughs a lot, and maybe I would wear sneakers. And I could think of no better place to have such a wedding than in The Boy’s backyard.
That yard was a part of our relationship back before we even had a relationship. It was a long, hot day during a long, hot summer when I laid on the grass in that yard and looked at this boy who was still just a friend, and I thought to myself “I’m going to marry him one day.” That yard was the witness to so many stolen kisses, and late night bonfires, and spontaneous campouts, and Saturday dinners made on the grill, and drunken firework shows. We used to fall asleep on the trampoline on warm summer nights. I used to read my book on his back steps while he fixed someone’s car in the driveway (because there was always a car that needed work). I used to wake up early in the morning, and sneak out to the yard while he was still asleep, and pick raspberries and blackberries for breakfast. And there was a whole other ragtag gang of friends who treated that yard as their own, too, who came and went as they pleased, and the most wonderful kinds of commotions were always happening there. It was the kind of place where you could swing by on a whim without calling, and half of your other friends would already be there drinking beers. In short, it was magic.
So when I got past all the bloggy-glittery-mason jar stuff, I realized what I wanted more than anything was to walk out of his backdoors in my wedding dress, down the deck stairs, and across the lawn. I wanted to get married on a hot summer day in this place that had provided so much context for our love. But there was a hitch: the house was for sale. We just couldn’t bank on it still being around next year.
So The Boy and I did something really impulsive last week, and we’re still kind of reeling from the decision. We’re getting married this year. In July. In the yard. And on the one hand I have not spoken to anyone about anything other than wedding planning for five days, and sometimes I can’t sleep because I’m thinking about table runners. But it doesn’t feel overwhelming anymore, because once all this craziness is said and done, I’m going to walk across that yard and marry my best friend in the exact same spot where we had our very first date. And that feels like magic.
