black + white

Not quite sure where the week went.
Work has been crazy but fun because N's been here all week.
Off-topic entirely, how darling is Kate Spade's spring line?
Polka dots are my fave.
{happy weekend}

because some things can't wait to be sent across the sea

Dear E. (Yes, you, E.)
O and I discussed a shout out via this little corner of blog land and it was deemed entirely appropriate, but I couldn't stop at "Hello." It seems all to short a shout. So I'm including a little Yale Daily Tribune, for your enjoyment/immediate information.

J&J Howell are moving. Continents. Which is all fine and well, but in the department of natural disasters, I'm not certain what we're going to do. I'm thinking The YTS will have to have Jim H. auditions, although it doesn't seem right without you here. In his absence, who is going to turn away all those faithful Yard Salers seeking a treasure trove of whatchamacallits? We're left with such a bundle of unanswered questions. You know the green house and the abundant harvest of Killer Zucchini? How will we ever ration that out in a circumstance of utter chaos? Should we put The Chard in charge of that? You know how he goes nuts for that green good stuff. And all the tools, who will run the Tool Rent-a-Center that is the J. H. Garage? Your dad might be a good candidate. What if a giant snow storm hits? D. McConkie is all over that snow blower, don't you think? We'll see how the auditions go. I'll keep you posted.

There are just some things that cannot wait for snail mail. And this is one. Signing off for now, hopeful we'll find a suitable 18 month replacement.

Miss you a million killer zucchinis.
Super Love,
M
p.s. Tomorrow I go for a back x-ray to see how much longer I get to be reptilian, either four more weeks or six. It's like Groundhog Day. For my back. I'm crossing my fingers for an early spring.

*They're going on a mission to Africa. Hip! Hip!

happy {heart} weekend.

hope it's extra sweet.

{image via weheartit}

Confession

Tonight I went to the Sunnyside house. I love all its inhabitants. I left with a package of New Moon conversation hearts. And, I ate them. That's the first time I've partaken of anything New Moon, Twilight or the like. (I almost shuddered as I typed that.) The package was handed over in such excitement and with such love. Plus, who can resist candy hearts? I read every one before putting them in my mouth and tossed the one that said I heart EW. I assume that means Edward. I kind of don't want to know.

why, yes!

The Shell Shakedown

Em said we should make a chain for my back brace slash turtle shell. A countdown chain. I'm one month in. I think it sounds better in months instead of weeks. When asked how much longer I'll be bound by my brace I've been saying four more weeks. That's because the doc talked in terms of weeks. "Eight to ten weeks," he said. I liked Mr. M's advice best: "Say you'll be out by the end of the month." Doesn't that sound soon? Thanks for the bright outlook, Mr. M. To the other Em, let's make a chain. Out of pretty pretty paper.

Still on the topic of shells, I wrote to Sister E today and told her I look like Yertle the Turtle. Remember Yertle the Turtle? King of the Turtle Totem Pole?

On the far-away island of Sala-ma-Sond,
Yertle the Turtle was king of the pond.
A nice little pond. It was clean. It was neat.
The water was warm. There was plenty to eat.
The turtles had everything turtles might need.
And they were all happy. Quite happy indeed.

Dr. Seuss is such the best. Full text can be found here.

happy weekend

go exploring.

une lettre pour savon

After coconut cupcakes and blueberry lemon cake, I drove east towards the Grandma House.

Tonight, over a live wire, we discussed the finer points of French* acrobatics.

Merci, Mlle Del Mar et Our Lady of the Hail Storm for the balancing tips.
(And Patty. We couldn't have done it without Patty.)

*Or was it Spanish?

oh happy day!

hip! hip! hooray!

It's someone's birthday...
...and
I love her with my whole heart & soul!

to the honey bees who left a jar on my doorstep

you are the sweetest.

i had honey on toast for breakfast.
and lunch.

i heart honey.
i heart the two of you.

pedal pushers

On late summer days, the kind when there's nothing to do and everything to do all at the same time, we'd hop on our bikes and head north, pedaling like there was no tomorrow. We'd ride to our favorite street, the one with the perfect slope and the newly remodeled house on the left. Slowing at the bend before easing west with a slight turn of the handle bars, we'd make sure there were no cars, then in unison we'd begin.

Cranking our pedals with childish calves, we'd churn and churn until pedaling was no longer necessary and we could coast. Like performers on a tightrope, we'd take our hands off the handlebars and balance. Stretching our arms out into our trouble-less childhood world we'd raise our palms to the heavens, offering up our young hearts to the gods of summer. The warm breeze ran through our hair and across our faces. We were prayers in motion. Riding against gravity and fear, we were small gestures of innocent self-mastery, the graceful uprise of victory imprinted across our chests. Heads back and faces towards the sinking sun we were all smiles down the tree-lined neighborhood streets. One block. Two blocks. Then three, until our bikes slowed beneath us and we'd have to take up the pedaling and steering. Without talking, we'd glance in each others direction. Again.