dear love,
i get blue. sometimes. often, maybe. i lean in that direction. and then, sometimes more, i lean into it. the blue.
and when i do, i can be convinced--or rather, i convince myself--that, well... a change in hair color can change my life.
yes. hair color.
and the thing is. it doesn't. and i end up hating it. and spending far too much time scrub-a-dub-dubbing it away in the shower.
so in those moments--those quiet lulls when you feel me fading, pull me close, kiss my lips, and promise that you won't let me touch my tresses--because you think they're perfect just as they are.
hell, you think i'm perfect just as i am.
love, love,
the girl with the hair with the auburn cast (for now)
hudson heights.
in NYC
when i was a little girl my father was constantly traveling to russia.
he'd return with beautiful items from the one of the country's many outdoor markets. small wooden toys. intricately carved santas. hand-painted matryoshka dolls detailing native fairy-tales. and from these items i gleaned what i could from a country that felt a world away. a lifetime away, really.
i remember once dreaming that i was there, in russia, swinging on a swing set. i went to jump off (as children do at the peak of a swing when you're young and without fear) and off i flew. and off i fell--off the edge of the world--i disappeared from the image. as though the world was two-dimensional and i had died. (think old-school video games).
that was my impression of russia. that the world was flat and russia was the edge.
sometimes that's how i feel about my little corner of new york. aslant on the hill. just next to the river. quiet.
and at the edge of the earth.
as though at any moment i might simply fall from the screen.
lovely.
in quotes
happiness is always a by-product.
it is probably a matter of temperament,
and for anything i know, it may be glandular.
but it is not something that can be demanded
from life, and if you are not happy you had
better stop worrying about it
and see what treasures you can pluck
from your own brand of unhappiness.
robertson davies woulaok
a letter to the man i'll dance with long after the guests have gone and the dance floor is little more than worn wood and wet grass,
have i ever told you i want to walk down the aisle to cat steven's the wind?
well, i do.
a giveaway for this (almost) spring week...
i'm so very excited to start this week off on the right foot.
the right foot, you ask?
a giveaway, i say!
from none other than shabby apple--you know--the women's dress store that you've already, at one point, purchased numerous items from, or drooled incessantly over their images.
if not--if this is your first brush with them--well, then welcome out from under that their rock and bask in the bright ray of sunshine that is their collection. (holy moly, it's the monday after spring forward and sass is my middle name).
shabby apple focuses on creating dresses that are one-piece outfits, nothing else necessary. they are ultra-feminine and highly flattering.
one lucky reader will take home the waimea dress.
isn't it lovely? i want it. (desperately). it's a deep blue and white--my calling card. and scallops? swoon. (i may also have been swayed by how beautiful the model is).
to enter: visit shabby apple and leave a comment below. tweet, post to facebook, or like shabby apple on facebook for a second entry. (and then comment letting me know).
the entry will close wednesday at midnight and the winner will be announced thursday.
(open to u.s. residents only).
happy monday. it's gonna be a good week!