Skip to main content

Aprons

I bought some things from Vermont Trading Co. last night: popcorn plisse bedspread and shams with satin champagne ruffle, a Betty Crocker meals for two cookbook and a cobblerette apron.

I realized yesterday that I have a lot of aprons: two made by me, one made by mother and one made by great-grandmother, one from Cafe de France (belongs to Nathan) and the cobblerette coming in. I have plans to display all of them. I also realized that I know more about aprons, and refect on aprons, probably more than the average human.

Country Style advocates one "finding" oneself collecting things. Can it be that I am an apron connoisseur?

I have been forming what I call my transitory schedule. I am entering a bridge of time to reflect and reconnect with my true desires.

However, I intend most of this time to be spent organizing our home to its optimum, ridding our closets of all that is unnecessary to our existence, selling many things, and creating new systems to filter incoming items. Even if we don't stay here for long, my system will move with us, and we will have a great deal less to move.

I don't think that my writing will constitute more of my life than it does already. I will continue to make my writing hour: the luxury of which will be elasticity. No longer will I have to tear myself away.

I am watching State Fair right now and love it. The dresses are dreamy, possibly even more to my taste than Babes in Toyland, since more subdued. I have a special love for almost every era, in particular: the '10's, '20's, '40's, '50's, '70's, '90's. The '30's I don't like much.

Popular posts from this blog

Snow White and the Prince

I dreamed in darkness, cold and alone. Phantasms shifted around me, frightening me, but I was powerless to escape them or even move, as I was sealed in a casket. I thought of the Queen, my Stepmother, and tears dripped from my eyes as I considered the quasi-poignant moments we had once shared, when we might have been considered to be close, when the Queen had nearly been a mother to me, and the face of love had shone radiantly upon me, before eclipsed again by the storms of Venus. I thought of the huntsman, stung to consider that my only friend had been poised to betray me, to kill me, and again in my mind I felt the horror of his shadow, of waiting while he came behind me, knowing there was no escape for me from a death he would inflict. My heart lifted as images of the Prince entered my mind, his grace atop a white-maned horse, always out of my reach, just beyond the words I longed to speak. If only there had been more time for us to fall in love. He might have saved me from those...
more &

Where does it lie

I look out onto the yellow and brown vegetation beneath my window, at the castle-like buildings far away and wonder where do I lie in all of this? There was a time when I was unfettered. This was a time before I entered the working world, before I was independent. My heart was free as a bird when I was in college. I did not know what happiness I experienced in my creativity because I had never known different. In other aspects of my life I knew pain but my stories, sprung up lately from a gothic mist into an immersing Pre-Raphaelite painting, were a richness and the most beautiful thing I had ever known. That the most beautiful thing I knew to exist happened inside of me made me very happy, even though I didn't know it. Now I know the sun is setting, even though I can't see it, because the bank of brown, twisted trees and shrubs is lit gold, like a reflection from a golden chalice. Slowly, slowly it will fade until everything is a homogenous, uncertain gray. This is the nightma...
more &