My system (one of them)
I have folders, and rules. My rules dictate that when I like something, I put images of it in a folder. If I still like what I’ve put in the folder after at least 30 days, I congratulate myself for being so reasonable and in my mind allow myself to buy it (provided it’s a reasonably teeny amount).
This has been in my folder for over 30 days. And we keep on breaking mugs. And it’s pretty cheap. So it would be perfect timing. Except, I am still not going to buy it, because I don’t really feel like spending anything or buying anything. For reals. I’m happy with what I’ve got (not for long given the rate things smash around here). So I’m happy just looking at the graph paper mug.
Isn’t it pretty?
Happy birthday Sophie!
I can’t believe it’s come around so fast (and I’m sure she can’t either!), but today is my sister’s birthday! Yay! Happy birthday Sophie!
Some things of note about my sister:
- Her favourite flavour of anything sweet is vanilla. Always. (So the cupcake pictured is a vanilla cupcake).
- She doesn’t eat breakfast straight away when she wakes up – she lingers in her pyjamas for a while and after about half an hour, she’ll eat.
- She is the cutest in pyjamas.
- She reads freakishly fast – can knock a 500-page book in a few hours.
- She is afraid of spiders just like me, yet plucky enough to trap them under cups and shoo them out if need be.
- She met her husband during a job interview (and she got the job!).
- She always greeted my mother’s ‘Let’s repaint the hallway/corridor/bedroom/cupboards’ with enthusiasm.
- She’s great at painting walls.
- She is very very warm and friendly (that’s from Christian).
- She spent more than an hour coming up with ways to do my hair when a stupid Parisian hairdresser cut it too short.
- She screamed ‘You suck Britney’ from our kitchen window when the primary school kids next door were doing a dance number to a Britney Spears song.
I love you so much Sophie! Millions de bisous!
Read more things of note about my sister in last year’s birthday list.
Should I shave this weekend?
My hair doesn’t have that long to go to reach my shoulders: maybe a few months. But in the meantime, when I pin it up I have to contend with some rebel strands of neck hair that always escape the clutches of my various clips and grips.
In a fit of ‘Enough!’, I decided shaving them might be the way to go. Until everything reaches the right length – then I’ll let them grow back and pin my hair artfully so they’ll regrow in stealth.
I’ve actually done it before and it doesn’t look half bad. Plus, it will make me feel a little bit punk. And since I have a baby face and I spent my Friday night at home watching a documentary on 10 ways to kill Osama Bin Laden (which was very interesting actually), I will take all the punk I can get.
So, should I shave my little neck hairs?
Winter walks
At the moment I know technically we’re supposed to be in spring. Except I’m pretending we’re in Autumn (because that’s what September is supposed to be in my world view, even after 8 years in Melbourne – stubborn I am). I think I’ve still got a good month and a half of denial ahead of me when I’ll be able to wear toasty stockings and shoes, and rug up in scarves and béret during our daily walks.
And then it’ll be on to summer and I’ll blind people with my paleness like every year, while my siblings go towards dark months and a winter Christmas. And like every year I won’t manage to get into the festive spirit of a hot Christmas day… I need freezing cold with a chance of snow, dark at 5PM, my brother scoffing marrons glacés and the telling of jokes from inside papillotes wrappers – and then it feels like Christmas. Stubborn and grinch-ey am I?
Hipstamatic
This is the best $2.49 I’ve spent in a while… So today I went a bit nuts and photographed anything and everything around my apartment. And my breakfast, shoes not yet put away, fringe, eye and nose have never looked better. Thank you Jess (monkey saw, monkey totally did).
PS: Mira and her Salvador Dali whiskers are killing me.
Sunday
I’ve been working very late every single night; once a week peek-a-boo seems to be all I can manage…
So here is a peek at my Sunday: rediscovering that my Porter has a long strap and that such a little detail can make a nice difference to an outfit. Also rediscovering a pair of knee-high black socks I’ve owned since I was 14 (that’s 17 years! Crazy…). Getting away to share a cup of tea with the most gorgeous friend (and feeling wired for the rest of the afternoon because black tea just has that effect one me… Even though it’s supposed to contain so little caffeine it wouldn’t even wire a gnat…). And adopting a succulent that found a home in one of our favourite glasses.
Please don’t ask me about ‘The Fall of the House of Usher‘ – I started reading it when I was 19 and haven’t finished it yet (it may or may not involve a story about insomnia while holidaying in Lyon, and getting spooked more than I care to admit).
The Princess and the Pea
Mira likes cleaning day: she’s realised we pile all her pillows up into one temporary high super-bed. Shown here, her taking advantage of super-bed while it lasts.
C’est la ronde de nuit
Speaking of métro and Paris, this is one of my favourite songs ever. It is so cheekily French: yes there is accordéon, but its French essence therein does not lie. It’s in the juxtaposition of the lazy lower-class Parisian accent, the slightly melancholic tune and lyrics mixed with animated dialogue from a group of friends having a drink at a bistro. Shame there isn’t a proper video for this song (although the one I’m imagining in my head, with grainy métro footage of the blue and white tiles, and twinkling city lights is probably prettier).
Métro vandal
We don’t hang things on the wall at our house: we frame them and place the frames on furniture instead. This little fragment is probably my favourite framed thing – because of what it is, and because of the story behind it.
It is a piece of an old old Paris métro map – so old that it shows the station Arsenal (which closed in September 1939).
And I came by it because I ripped it off the wall during one of my many commutes (it was peeking from under layers of miscellaneous posters and if there is one thing I can’t resist, it is an old map. Or an old document. But especially an old map).
I can’t remember at which station the deed was done, but I can offer some advice if you also see something you like on the wall of a Parisian métro station but are plagued by hesitation (or manners).
- Own it: don’t look around to see if other people are looking at you. Rip the damn thing off. You want it no?
- Do it during rush hour, casually as you are walking by (or more accurately being pushed forward by the grumpy mob behind you). You are less likely to be noticed or have anyone comment on what you are doing.
- Someone will probably comment on what you are doing: an old lady who’s bored, a smart ass who finds what you are doing puzzling/hilarious/both. There is no wrong way to respond: not saying anything is good, or if the smart ass is old saying that you enjoy things that are decrepit is good too.
- Avoid ripping things off the wall in front of the para-military police that patrol the métro with machine guns. But I’m sure you’re smart enough not to do that.
- Frame it: it’ll look really neat. And you will chuckle when you look at it thinking back to how you’re a vandal at heart. Sort of.
If you’re curious about the few Parisian phantom métro stations (including Arsenal), go here. And look at some pretty pictures I posted of the Saint-Martin station (one of the phantoms) here.
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