Sunday, December 6, 2009

therapy cyber-window shopping

As the year of terror winds down (knock on wood), I find myself in the holiday shopping spirit (i.e. therapy shopping spirit) but without the means to actually do so. So I'm spending the morning daydreaming and wandering around the online shops of this wonderful crazy holiday season.

Its been cold and cloudy, a bit windy, with black clouds looming in the horizon this weekend. We're expecting a downpour, perhaps tomorrow. On top of this, its frigid at work -they never turned off the AC when summer went away. Three nights ago I found myself wearing a sweater under my tee shirt instead of the usual long sleeve tee combo, and on top of that had to put o
n a sweat shirt. I've been wearing knit gloves and a scarf too. Silly, it seems, but it helps.

So today I find myself addicted to knits...

This piece by Vickie0908 on Etsy is reserved for someone, so it can't be purchased. However, its a testament to this crafter's skill.

This scarf, though I'm not sure how functional it would be at work, is extremely beautiful and would be a lovely accessory for any outfit this season!

Since we've moved into our new place, I've taken it upon myself to redecorate. (surprise surprise) For eons, we had everything Oriental in various reds and blacks and tans, and frankly that gets old. I really want to incorporate my ecclectic style in some world market sort of way.
(and swap my husband's blacks and blues for bright colors :)

So, our new kitchen is dreamed to be vintage farmer's market inspired in bright tomato red and avocado green. That's harder than it sounds, actually... But here are two prints I found on Etsy that seem to share my color palette.

Honeytree has this delightful print of a farmers market stand taken in Nice, France. And wouldnt you know, the artist shares a name with my pup, Grainne :)

The green gate is a perfect match to our fruit printed towels from Target!

We have a little joke, my husband and I, taken from a Hoops and Yoyo ecard I sent him a few years ago. Those little characters crack us up, and there was a Thinking of You card with a dozen little of which was "Mmmmm you smell gooooood. You smell like bacon!" And there you have it. What a compliment!

Nicodemusgreen has a sugar skull rendition of his "Bacon is like a little hug from god" print in the
avocado green I adore! It's too cute not to have hanging above your stove.

Speaking of little jokes between us...

my husband and I have both developed (seperately, before we met, I might add) an odd addiction with farm animals. Not just any animals, mind you, but
specifically my love/hate relationship with chickens and his worship of goats.

...I know, that's why we get along so well.

Sharon Montrose has this great photographic print of a Nubian Goat that would be perfect for his desk, beside his favorite demotivational calendar!

...and an ipod docking station made from cedar!

Before he enlisted in the NAVY, my husband was a woodworker; making, installing and designing kitchens, cabinetry, etc... With a few little fun personal projects on the side. He made a beautiful treasure box for my birthday this year....

He loves cedar, more than any other material.

This handmade cedar ipod docking station by Woodtec lit up his eyes when he saw the photo.

I could go on, and on, and on with all the fabulous treats found on Etsy. But for now, I'll keep this list short :) Perhaps each week I'll seek a few more. I know quite a few bloggers have a weekly feature of good finds in the handmade market, which is a great way to promote other artists, and those lists are quite fun... so I'm thinking of doing it myself. I guess this will be the first installation!

So farewell for now, and I hope holiday shopping finds you well!

xo, hz

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

i woke this morning from an emotional dream and laid there for a long while staring at the ceiling, tracing the pattern of the curtains with my eyes. thinking of arguments i've had; things i should have said instead. people that have come and gone. listening to my husband breathe. feel the cold. pull the blanket closer to my chin. snuggle a little more. rearrange events to make them make more sense. think of my dream and what it said. wish i could remember what was written on that little girls eyes. begin to doze off. pull the blanket closer. bark. get out of bed. let dog out. watch her pee in the yard through the blinds. overflow the coffee pot. begin to clean. delint pillows and rugs. dishes. dust. sort mail. pay bills. listen to damien rice. breathe. deeply.

watch the light pass through vertical blinds and pinstripe my computer screen. magnolias bouncing in their vase as my fingertips tap on the keys. iron and wine. red lady bugs against a yellow backdrop, one inside my mug peeking up through the coffee horizon. toes are cold. red fuzzy socks. cars and people pass by. dog naps. butter melts. oven heats. smell cinnamon. the furnace exhales. as i do. we all do. and that breath is gone. forever. perhaps wasted. perhaps not. perhaps.

today i am a camera. but there is not just mechanical clickings and electrical charges and openings and closings and lights and shadows. there is a cesspool of experiencing and of feeling and of tearless crying and of laughing and of remembering and of not knowing.

the dream:

there was more. i wrote it. and lost it. the most important pieces are this:
i tried so hard to stop them, i pleaded and i begged and i tried to yell at them. but i am small. and i am quiet and i am not old. and they ignored me. and as i tried so hard i retreated into that cold gray room with the wooden door that leads to the closet of my teenage years. i hid them in there, weezul and azreal. they were hunting them, and i denied their existence to try and save them. then the people all set up in my bedroom with their computers and their machinery and their gadgets and they wouldnt leave. and i didnt want to stand directly in front of the door because they would know i was hiding something in there. but he had watched me put them in there. he knew. and when he saw how intent she was on catching them, he turned on her. and he tried to help me. but they expelled him. and i was alone in this fight. each time i stepped away from the door to verbally pursue them, i looked back to see the door was open, and i had to close it again. but i cant stand too close or they will know. so i stepped away, and it opened again. and i closed it again, and it repeated several times. until finally, he came to me, through the crowded room, with a child in his arms. and with him, like a beam of light, it all made sense, and my struggle was lifted, and it didnt seem to matter anymore, these people that i was fighting against. in his arms was a young girl, perhaps one or two years old. blind. not blind, actually, without eyes. white spheres inserted where her beautiful eyes would be. and on them, the same inscription as was on his chest. with my fingers i reached out and closed her soft eyelids. i stroked the bridge of her nose and read aloud his wish for her, as was tattooed on their skin. it brought tears to my eyes.

i repeated it to myself over and over so i wouldnt forget it when i woke.

but all i remember was that her name was salfa.