Wishing

All images via Mint Velvet. Orignally spotted on This is Glamorous.

Does any one have a super sweet girlfriend in the UK who wants to shop for my new summer wardrobe? I seriously want amost all that this shop has to offer. Why, oh why, do they not ship overseas?

Please hold for an Emerson-like tantrum. I may be spending a wee bit too much time with my toddler.

Fresh air

Lovely chimes via At West End.

I can just imagine sitting on the deck, sipping a cold beverage and listening to these chimes in the breeze all day long. It's a recipe for a daydream for sure.

Inspired

Photo by Ira Lippke for the New York Times.

Michelle de la Vega transformed her garage into a home of perfection. I love everything about it. Especially the loft, but that, my friends, is an obsession for another day. Check out the rest of the photos with the story. It was the kick in the pants I needed at the tail end of last week.

Inspired by this image, I shot an email off to my husband and notified him of the goal for our garage. He wrote back questioning why I would want my bed to be in the garage. That guy and his sense of humor. It occasionally eases us through some sticky differences in opinion.

He then spent 12 hours over two days clearing out junk, recycling boxes, old paperwork, newspaper clippings. It was physically and emotionally exhausting - for my husband. It was truly exhilarating - for me, as I was simply observing sweet progress in motion. It's not complete but we can now see the floor and I am breathlessly closer to having TWO tables for my very own. Space for my sewing machine, my serger, my laptop, my creative life. I will share photos soon.

Thanks be to incredibly heavy furniture that he didn't dare move or open my great grandmother's cedar chest to discover the wedding porn I've been saving since 2003. It seems I also carry a wee bit of the hoarding gene. Shhh.

Golden

Several of my earliest memories are of visiting my great grandmother, Estella, for whom I am named. She lived alone in a small apartment, not far from where I now live. She was well in to her 90s by the time I knew her and upon every visit had to be reminded as to who I was, who my mother was, what relation we had to her and why were were sitting at her kitchen table.

We would work on jigsaw puzzles and sip iced tea of the instant variety. There was great comfort in searching for missing pieces during those awkward moments. A purpose-driven activity for relatives, made strangers by time and age. I still enjoy a good puzzle. It's not easy to find a solitary endeavor that can also accommodate part-time players.

And in fairly unrelated news, I love these necklaces. Especially that last one. It looks a little heavy, complicated and yet, delicate all the same.

All images via Macha Jewelry.

What's not to love?

All images via EmersonMade.

As if Emerson from EmersonMade wasn't cool enough for her lovely name. Then she refashions (what I can only assume) is her wedding dress to show off her many fabric flower creations. You all know I would like nothing more than to do chores around the house in my wedding dress, right?
Then she busts out these charming little wrist corsages and I am reminded that there is almost nothing more special than a wrist corsage. How could you not feel giddy and lady like and utterly adored while wearing one?
And then, then there is this. "This ?!>!? Too, Shall Pass". Yes, indeed. I need this in my life. I need it stuck to my computer monitor, glued to my steering wheel and pasted on my forehead.

Oh happy day, Mr. Muir

Illustrations by John Muir Laws.

The wildflowers are in full bloom across the Yosemite Valley. It's hard to imagine what that expanse of beauty would look like today if John Muir had never journeyed from San Francisco to the Sierra Nevada by foot. Ultimately experiencing an "unconditional surrender" to nature. Happy Birthday, John Muir. May your revolution continue to grow in your name. Happy (almost) Earth Day, friends.

P.S. I've got a little crush going on John Muir. Creepy, you say? Considering he passed on in 1914 it's a safe love of the historical kind. Just amazed by his intensity and commitment. I'd like a little of that in my own life.

P.P.S. Danielle at Ellinaspir is hosting a fabulous giveaway and special discount to her readers from Langston's. And I am currently wearing one of several pairs of Lucky's I found at Langston's over the years and I can tell you there are no better Lucky deals around. Do check it out.

Scenes from a birthday

Mimosas, music, favorite people, sunshine, donuts, bubbles, all things orange and yellow and the best damn banana cake ever, made for a happy little celebration. And did I mention, a pony named Shorty?
By far, the best facial expression of the day. Emerson loved the petting zoo and spent most of her party making the farm animals feel uncomfortable. Let's just say she gets her penchant for staring (or as I like to frame it, the gift of observation) from her mama.

This goat was totally in to the chickens hanging out on his back.
Look, I kept 18 little violas alive for one whole week. Now they are safely in the hands of other, presumably, greener thumbs.

Rainbow connection

Rainbow card from Umbrella Prints.

My best friend from second grade, Kelley, had the best childhood bedroom. Her mom allowed both her girls to chose a wallpaper to cover one wall of their bedrooms and the other three walls got a coordinating paint color. Kelley rocked a repeating pattern of rainbows with lavender walls to accent, if I remember correctly. IT WAS AWESOME.

I wish I could say I'd be as cool as that with Emerson and let her choose her own decor in a couple years. But it's hard to imaging medicating my inner control freak enough to go with that kind of flow. However, I'd be completely on board if she one day dreams of filling her room with rainbows

By the looks of Kelley's blog and shop, Pocket Envy, all that color nurtured some seriously creative talent. Do check out her handmade diaper bags and accessories.

And don't you think that elephant and rainbow card is frame-worthy?

My gateway

April is National Poetry Month. Yeah, I didn't know either. Thank you, NPR, for enlightening me to the ever so slightly more rarefied aspects of popular culture than the cat fights I usually referee from my couch between the Real Housewives of New York. Left to my own devices I would most assuredly lose myself to a sea of trashy television programing. Please don't judge me. I do manage to abstain from a whole slew of far less healthy mind-numbing escapes on a daily basis.

Listening to three poets talk about the power of words - how they sound or the feelings they evoke when read aloud - I was reminded of the first important author in my life. Shel Silverstein. I grew up with a dog-eared copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends and spent countless hours committing his work to memory. Over the years, I've discovered many other treasured poets and currently cannot get enough of Billy Collins (if this were my diary I would dot the i's in his name with hearts) and Mary Karr (she makes me a little nervous and I love her). But Shel Silverstein really "got me" in a way that no one else did in the fifth grade.

I rushed home yesterday to put Emerson down for a nap and pulled out the only Shel Silverstein I currently own, A Light in the Attic, randomly opened to a page and began to read aloud the poetry of my youth.

Fear

Barnabus Browning

Was scared of drowning

So he never would swim

Or get into a boat

Or take a bath

Or cross a moat.

He just sat day and night

With his door locked tight

And the windows nailed down,

Shaking with fear

That a wave might appear,

And cried so many tears

That they filled up the room

And he drowned.

I'm not even kidding. And the kicker is the bat-shit crazy illustration that accompanies the poem. And then Emerson nodded off to a soft and peaceful sleep. The end.

Let's hope that didn't leave any lasting scars. Because, honestly, upon rereading the entire book throughout the afternoon, I uncovered a few bread crumbs leading me up to a lifetime of "the depression and anxiety." And as my husband said when I mentioned the revelation later that evening..."that explains a lot."

Does anyone else still read poetry?

Weekend stuff

Few words this morning. More of a photo essay, really. See if you can put the pieces together.


Power tools are awesome. Ditto chalkboard paint.

Broke down and planted myself some herbs and sweet peas (for my own selfish reasons - they really are spring time candy for the garden) and the Early Girls for my recuperating mother, although they are not pictured. Also hiding are the carrots, peas and cilantro I planted. And buried among those seeds is any notion of self-awareness I previously bragged about. You know, for those of you who are keeping track. Happy Monday, friends.

P.S. The collection of flower pots is a little tease from Emerson's party preparations. More to come on that one next week.

Junkie

It's me. I'm the one with the problem. Sure, Emerson is a fan, she'll play along as the furry puppets obsess over a particular number or letter and Cookie Monster is a reliable source for a genuine chuckle, but truth be told, I'm the one who happily tunes in every morning for some Muppet action. I've got it bad for the relative newbies to the show, Baby Bear and Telly Monster and Elmo. Baby Bear's speech impediment and Telly's freakish love of triangles makes them a charming and neurotic pair. And how could you not adore the Muppet whose sole purpose is to ensure small children feel loved.

I'm a wee embarrassed to admit how many times I've brought up Sesame Street and the magical work of those puppeteers in very grown up conversation over the past year. I will tell you that I have spent many waking hours thinking about what it would be like to be on that iconic set and meet the people who bring character and emotion and life to what amounts to a few yards of fabric. There's a chance I may be taking this a little too far, but what's a little confessional among friends, right?

The clip below (and a pot of coffee) got me through a very early wake up call yesterday. And the one after that is just a funny outtake. I especially love Sesame Street when the skits lean a bit to the dark side.

Party lust

All photos by Kate Landers of Kate Landers Events, LLC.

Spotted this party inspiration by the very talented event planner Kate Landers over at Party Perfect and I knew straight away I would be taking some serious notes for a certain red-head's future celebration. She's a little young for her very special Madeline book (it's safe on the top shelf while she grows out of her book abuse stage). Miss Kate suggests trying this theme for a four year old but I'm not entirely sure I can wait that long. I especially love the little red suitcases and the handmade capes for some very special francophiles.

We're not exactly doing a theme this year, although I'm sticking to a mostly yellow and orange color palette, which I will surely share once we get past the big event. I'd love to know if you have pulled off a big theme party? Or do you prefer an old-fashioned cake and ice cream, pin-the-tail on the donkey approach?

I need one more thing to do

The Wendy House Teepee by Leila Sanderson. Found on Poppytalk.

I used to say that if I won the lottery I would go back to school to be a professional student. I love an academic setting, where the atmosphere is heavy with people from all walks of life brought together to advance or enhance their lives in some way. I also love to take notes and sit in the front row. I'm extremely nerdy that way.

But now I need to revise my post-lotto winning plans. For if my lucky numbers ever come up I think I will stay home and make stuff. All day long.

My list of dream projects just continues to grow and stretch and push out at the seams. Today I add making a teepee to the list. Google found me DIY instructions and I may be just brave enough to give it a go. Anyone with me?

The space we create

Lisa Neimeth's Urban Chicken Coop blog.

Does Lisa Neimeth's ceramics studio not look like the most enchanting grown up fort? After stumbling across her stunning work and dreamy workspace I've been obsessing over lovely places to house creative life. I also seriously want the bowl below and lucky for me she's a San Francisco-based artist who opens her studio to tours in the fall. I'll be stopping in for sure.

Lisa Neimeth ceramic bowl.

Image via Knack Studios.

Barb of the always inspired Knack recently moved her studio down the street and I simply cannot get past that orange mail box. It's just perfection. And then the sweet little 'hello' sign on the door? Please. I've threatened to hang out there all day as she wields power tools and paint brushes to transform furniture. And she's so sweet that she's welcomed me. If only I lived closer to South Carolina. For now, I'll just continue to admire her beautiful work from across the internet.

See more of Barb's studio here.

The Art Barn via Fern and Feather.

I just discovered Alexis of Fern and Feather last week and I'm completely taken with her Art Barn. Her husband and friends built it for her in the backyard and now she retreats there during her son's nap time.

Among other things, Alexa creates these darling paper banners for her Etsy shop.

So, yes. I'm a wee jealous and overall, totally inspired by these talented women.

And in the interest of keeping it real, behold the hovel I run to for creative time to myself. I am looking to improve the situation but I'm just not sure that fairy lights and an inspiration board is going to make much difference. I would love to know if you have a special place for yourself and your creative endeavors. Is it a corner in the dining room or a magical room all to your own? Do share.

Not in the plan

Last weekend I swore off a summer vegetable garden, despite a winter-long yearning for fresh herbs and cutting flowers. There is only so much one can accomplish during a toddler's nap time and the siren call of my sewing machine is too tempting most days. This is self-awareness in action, friends.

Apparently the universe had other plans, because just after loading her car full of purple impatiens and Early Girl Tomato seedlings my mother broke her ankle and I became the adoptive parent to some plants, whose sole survival will depend on my ability to multitask.

Any tips on tomato growing would be much appreciated. I have grand visions of treating my poor mother to delicious Caprece salads as she recuperates from the many complicated fractures. Now I need to plant some basil.

Also, mom took her spill while playing with Emerson at the park...let the record show I am dealing with a heap of self-imposed guilt, while scrambling for additional childcare - which won't be free. Good times all around.