July Wishlist

REVO RE4051 Grand Classic from the sunglass hut



Jo Malone Vanilla & Anise perfume





aloe plant for my bathroom (photo courtesy luvcosmetics.com)



Since it was just Christmas in July (merry merry, ya'll!) I figuired another July wishlist was in order. I am currently lusting over these blue lens sunglasses, similar to the ones on Blake Lively here. They remind me of Avatar and anything that reminds me of Avatar is instantly COOL, right?? Even though some could argue that they make one look like a black fly (I can see it,) I still think that they are the bee's knees right now. And if I had $200 big ones to spend I'd definitely buy them. Alas, I can't really with a clean conscience spend that much on sunglasses when I almost always sit on them, lose them or inadvertantly and indefinitely "lend" them to someone else also known as sunglass snatching (come on, you know we have all accidentally done that one time or another when someone left their sunnies at our house...)

As for the Jo Malone Anise (anise is the herb that gives licorice its distinct flavor) & Vanilla perfume, this is something I could fork over $50 on mainly because I live by the French motto that "a woman knows there is nothing a good haircut and a good perfume can't fix." Or something like that. I found out about this perfume while shopping at the grocery store. While walking through the produce aisle, I caught an arrestingly subtle but alluring scent in my sniffer that literally stopped me in my tracks. Where was that hauntingly sweet and delicate scent coming from? I sniffed around the peaches, the plums... ah-ha! the cherries... but no.... the scent was nowhere to be found. Again walking through the freezer section I caught the smell again only to realize it was not food but a woman who had also walked by me at the produce section. When I passed her a third time near prepared goods and wanted to eat her more than the carrot ginger soup I realized that I should probably ask her what she was wearing. When she told me it was Jo Malone Anise & Vanilla, the entire world made sense to me again. ANISE!!!!!!! As a perfume? Genius. The woman told me it's the only perfume she wears because you can only smell it as a wafting scent as you walk by - it's not one of those intense, knock-you-over-the-head, floral perfumes that remind you of your grandmother's throw pillows. It was less of a scent and more of an experience. And the coolest thing is that no matter how hard I try I can't summon the scent back into my nose - I'll have to go out to Neiman Marcus every day and smell it, or just buy it. It sort of reminds me of how Napoleon's wife only wore the scent of violets. Apparently the smell of violets is the only scent that the brain can't remember so you have to go back to it and smell it again and again because you can never remember it (was she a smart lady who knew how to bring her man back or what??)

Lastly, I really want an aloe plant for my bathroom. I have a growing collection of plants and aloe seems suitable because it would serve two purposes - first, I think plants as decorations are aesthetically pleasing (and not to mention good for cleaning the air of toxins) and second because I can use the aloe leaves to moisturize my skin every night! Now, where to find an organic aloe plant....

Moving On



fig tree courtesy faqs.org



Inspired by Clarissa Pinkola Estes' blog post on the Norway tragedies, I thought I would include the poem she references as well as a poem about every day living (after loss/tragedy) that I found years ago. The first poem is from Olav H Hauge’s poetry sheaves, Drops in the East Wind, 1966 and the second is a poem from Maria Howe's book What the Living Do, 1998, about the loss of her brother and how to move through grief.



Everyday

Olav H Hauge

You’ve left the big storms
behind you now.
You didn’t ask then
why you were born,
where you came from, where you were going to,
you were just there in the storm,
in the fire.
But it’s possible to live
in the everyday as well,
in the grey quiet day,
set potatoes, rake leaves,
carry brushwood.
There’s so much to think about here in the world,
one life is not enough for it all.
After work you can fry bacon
and read Chinese poems.
Old Laertes cut briars,
dug round his fig trees,
and let the heroes fight on at Troy.

photo courtesy http://www.officialpsds.com/

What the Living Do

Maria Howe

Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably
    fell down there.
And the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes
    have piled up

waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is the everyday we
    spoke of.
It’s winter again: the sky’s a deep headstrong blue, and the sunlight
    pours through

the open living room windows because the heat’s on too high in here, and
    I can’t turn it off.
For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street,
    the bag breaking,

I’ve been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying
    along those
wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my
    wrist and sleeve,

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.
Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called
    that yearning. What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to
    pass. We want
whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss – we want more and more and
    then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the
    window glass,
say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing
    so deep

for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m
    speechless:

I am living, I remember you.

What is Your Reality?

In my modern jazz class last night, I was introduced to this French song. I really enjoy it and when I went home to translate the lyrics (uh no, not with a dictionary... je suis desole, Madame Alexander!) on the internet I loved the song even more. Although to give myself some credit for having studied French for seven years, I did know that the chorus "mais ce que tu fais, c'est ta realite" meant "but what you do, that is your reality (what you are.)" What we do, how we act and the decisions we make - that is who we are. Not what we look like, where we came from, what college we went to or what family we are born into. We are creating and re-creating ourselves and our realities at every moment. So here are the lyrics, thanks to google translation. I included the French words too in italics. I apologize that they are a bit choppy and confusing at times:

You can be born at the right place
Avec une mère qui t'aime, un père qui est là With a mother who loves you, a father who is there
Une famille entière autour de toi An entire family around you
Un amour sincère pour guider tes pas A sincere love to guide your steps
Tu peux naître orphelin You can be born an orphan
Dans un endroit synonyme de rien In a place synonymous with anything
Avec un quignon de pain pour destin With a crust of bread for destiny
Et en horreur le genre humain And horror of mankind

[Refrain] : [Chorus]
Mais ce que tu fais But what you do
C'est ta réalité It's your reality
Ce que tu fais What you do
C'est ta réalité It's your reality

Tu peux être soudanais You can be Sudanese
Entre la charia et l'armée Between Sharia and the army
Voir ton avenir enchaîné See your future chained
Ce système que tu hais This system you hate
Alors tu vis ta vie d'un trait So you live your life with a stroke
Sans savoir qui tu es Without knowing who you are
Avec pour seul fait ta misère et ta mosquée With the mere fact your misery and your mosque
Tu peux être soudanais You can be Sudanese
Entre la charia et l'armée Between Sharia and the army
Être prêt à prendre des coups de fouet Be prepared to make lashes
Parce que tes dreadlocks ont poussés Because your dreadlocks pushed
Te boire une rebié t'évader à danser You drink a rebié t'évader dancing
En sachant que ce que tu fais pourrait t'emprisonner Knowing that what you do could imprison

[Refrain] [Chorus]

Tu peux vivre un cité pourrie You can live a rotten city
Avec ton pitt et tes amis Pitt and with your friends
Ton hall, ta 86, ton teushi Your hall, your 86, your teushi
Et la police comme seule ennemie And the police as the only enemy
Tu peux vivre un cité pourrie You can live a rotten city
Avec ton week-end comme seul ami With your weekend as the only friend
Ces deux jours sacrés pour une autre vie These two holy days to another life
Prendre le temps de bouger trouver tes envies Take the time to move your desires to find
Tu peux tabasser tes gosses entre ta femme et ton divorce You can beat up your kids from your wife and divorce
Tu peux trouver la vie si féroce qu'alors tu baignes tu passes en force You can find life so fierce that while you bathe you spend in force
Tu peux ne pas faire d'enfants You can not have children
Te dire qu'être père ça prends du temps To be a father to tell you it takes time
Revoir ta vie d'adolescent Review your teenage life
Et pas refaire ce qu'ont fait tes parents And not repeat what your parents have done

[Refrain] [Chorus]

Tu peux choisir la musique You can choose the music
Avoir un père directeur artistique Having a father Artistic Director
Connaître Senti et ses indics Knowing feelings and informers
Qui feront de toi une star académique That will make you a star academic
Tu peux choisir la musique You can choose the music
Pour avancer pour que ça communique To move forward so that it communicates
Prendre en chemin le monde artistique Take the way the art world
Pour lui garder sa fierté mystique For him to keep his pride mystical

[Refrain] [Chorus]

Crazy Good Tunes for a Hot Day

I could listen to this all day. I think that's just what I might do, while imagining I am sitting in my parlor or my wrap-around-porch in Savannah, Georgia sipping on a mint julep with the wind rustling through the live oaks. And in case you don't know what a live oak is... here is what my heaven looks like. By the way you have to let the song get to the 0:25 mark because that's when it gets spine-shiveringly good. Enjoy in joy :)

Legs-up-on-the-Wall Pose

How beautiful is this picture of Aly in Viparita Karani? Viparita Karani is sanskrit for "active inversion" because Viparita means inverted and Karani means "doing" - or in other words I feel more comfortable using - legs-up-on-the-wall pose. It's a milder version of Shoulderstand and like most inversions, it has a slew of health benefits for the body. It's a good pose to do before bedtime which Aly must have intuitively known because this was right before we went to bed. This pose calms the mind, relieves heavy and tired feet (good for people who have to stand for most of the day) and gently stretches the back legs, neck, and low back. A teacher once told me that any time your heart is above your head (like it is in most inversions), it's a good thing because your heart is more important than your head and your head (thinking mind) must always bow to the wisdom of the heart (intuition and compassion.)

Last night while Aly and I layed on the floors of our hallway and my bedroom chatting about - what else? - love, life, self-reliance and boys, Aly positioned herself into this pose naturally. Now, I know a lot of athletes are told to do this after a hard workout because it helps with the lauric acid in the legs or something - and I bet if you ever told a 6'7 basketball player that he was doing yoga when he did this, he'd laugh in your face. But really, he is. That is the super awesome thing about yoga that people often forget - it's just playing around on a mat doing things that our bodies naturally want to do.  It's not some grueling, awful, painful and excruciatingly difficult practice that you can ever be bad at. It's not some punishment to get your body into banging beach-body shape. It is the ultimate act of self-care and self-love. It's a way to listen to our body, to baby it, to hear its little creaks and cracks, feel it say "ooooooh that feels good" when we stretch the low back ever so gently - it's a way to shut off the chitter-chatter of our minds and feel ourselves from the inside out.

Yoga is wonderful because of how it feels when you do it - it's not about what it looks like. It's not about the clothes, the kind of mat you have, the yoga studio you practice in, how high you can get your leg into the air, or how good you look in spandex. In fact if you go by what it looks like alone you could end up really hurting yourself in certain poses because all bodies are made differently. We each have different sized and different placed bones and joints and if you try to do, say, Dancer pose like the woman of Yoga Journal (who is probably missing a vertebrae in her spine) you might injure yourself. So go by how it feels and not what it looks like, which is great advice for basically everything in life too. Despite the fact that I post pictures of people in yoga positions and say that they look beautiful, I truly believe that if you do yoga just to look good or get a skinnier body, you are missing the point. The whole point of yoga - and life - is to realize that the material world is an illusion. In yoga which literally means "union" we bring together or "unify" the mind and body to make them one so that we no longer look at our bodies with "bank camera eyes" but instead we are fully inhabiting our own skin. Watching someone do yoga though is beautiful because the human form itself is beautiful and watching it move in ways that come naturally to the body just reaffirms its intrinsic balance and harmony. The beauty of the poses is just an added bonus, like cream-cheese frosting on an already mouth-watering and moist carrot cake.

Fire and Ice

possibly a Burbanksy *note the artist's mistake: the word is "desctruction" not "destructive"

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

-Robert Frost

Let me start off by saying... this is one of the few poems in my memory arsenal whose first few lines ocassionally pop up into my head at odd moments. The others are: (Turning and turning in the widening gyre / The falcon cannot hear the falconer; / Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold... from "The Second Coming" by William Butler Yeats, Much madness is divinest sense - / To a discerning eye - / Much sense - the starkest Madness - / 'T is the majority... from "Much Madness" by Emily Dickinson, and Ya-honk! he says, and it sounds it down to me like an invitation; / The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listen closer, / I find its purpose and place up there toward the November sky... from "Leaves of Grass" by Walt Whitman.

So you can imagine my surprise when, walking home from the train station last night after yoga, I found one of my favorite poems plastered to the train station wall as if to confirm what I have known all along - this poem is special and must be read by all. I have a sneaky feeling this was an act of the Burbanksy himself although to be honest I am beginning to think the Burbanksy - if it truly is one person - might be a female.

The first time I read this poem was in my junior year of highschool when my favorite English teacher of the history of time - Mr. Vince (or Mr. Small) - reintroduced us to the genius of Robert Frost. Sure we've all read "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" in gradeschool, lulled by its easy rhymthic nuances and quiet imagery. But Mr. Vince had us revisit Frost (and all poetry and basically all of life) with new eyes - to come at it from a different angle. I can still remember him explaining to us that taken at face value, "Fire and Ice" could literally be about the Second Coming, the end of time, the Armageddon. That the world could end in literal fire (Big Bang) or literal ice (think Ice Age). But when examined further fire is representative of passion, heat and desire and ice is representative of its opposite - of coldness, neglect, indifference and slow death. When we are driven by desire, we are ruthless in our search to have, get, create, do - when we desire, we suffer because we become attached, greedy, selfish. Our world could literally end if we are all swallowed up by our desires and keep consuming, getting, making, doing, having - and burn the planet out of its resources.

But Mr. Vince also said that the poem could be read as a metaphor to relationships that end. When a relationship ends in fire with hatred, anger, jealousy, passion and rage - it has not truly ended because you cannot vehemently hate someone without caring about them, being attached to them or "loving" them. As Mr. Vince pointed out, the opposite of love isn't hatred - it is indifference. If a relationship has to end, Frost says he favors fire - burning out with passionate rage, with a sliver of love underneath it all. But if that same relationship ends twice, perhaps the better way to end is with cold indifference and a lack of fiery energy because that energy is quite exhausting.

I Want a Man Who Can Cook Me This

squash and corn soup with saffron infused oil from The Silverspoon

When life sucks, soup can be the most comforting remedy. Warm, creamy and nourishing soups always feed me in a way that no other food can. Recently life has been throwing me some major curve balls Chinese iron torture balls directly at my head and so I've been eating lots of soup. And reading lots of Tear Soup too (thank you Aly!) Over the weekend my dad and I went to the Silverspoon Cafe and I ordered the squash and corn soup prepared with condensed milk (for sweetness), a dash of nutmeg and cinnamon and a drizzle of saffron-infused oil. After one warm, silky spoonful I wanted to go into the kitchen and kiss the chef. I wanted to thank him and tell him that my heart hadn't felt that much love in so long. I wanted him to know that his attention and care for one dish singlehandedly made one girl feel the most happy she had felt in months. Often times we forget how nourishing food can be for us. Sometimes I think of food as evil, "guilty" and I tend to have a love/hate relationship with it. But when someone prepares a meal with such awareness and attention to detail, the food becomes magically infused with something greater than its material or caloric or even nutritional value - it becomes love itself. And there is no better way to show love and care for someone - or for the self - than through careful and loving attentiveness to the act of preparing and eating food. It is the most elemental and sacred activity we have.  Our relationship with food is a pathway to discovering our relationship with ourselves - and, as always, our relationship with ourselves is the most fascinating and rewarding of all. 

Currently Craving

Jcrew cashmere sweater in light shell



Steve Madden "Lalline" espadrilles in black

 Don't you love when style meets comfort? I like wearing high-heels that don't hurt my feet and chunky espadrilles with lots of arch support are the perfect solution. I also hate being cold and cashmere sweaters are my favorite. I feel like I am wrapped in a warm cloud.  I don't know about you but the office thermostat is usually kept at a balmy 64 degrees which is lovely so I keep my one beige cashmere sweater in my desk and wear it every day. Sometimes I even wrap it around my legs if I'm wearing a dress or skirt.... which looks really interesting when people stop by my cubicle to talk to me. I look like I am wrapped in a giant band-aid colored fabric bondage contraption.... very professional.

Stargirl

image courtesy of sunriseseeds.com

"She liked you, boy."

The intensity of his eyes made me blink.

"Yes," I said.

"She did it for you, you know."

"What?"

"Gave up her self, for a while there. She loved you that much. What an incredibly lucky kid you were."

I could not look at him. "I know."

He shook his head with wistful sadness. "No, you don't. You can't know yet. Maybe someday...."

- (p.178)


Have you read "Stargirl" yet? I just finished it today on the train and I am still buzzing from its message. Written for young adults, this book is a true Bildingsroman - which is really just a stuffy, pedantic (read: anal-retentive) way of saying it's a coming-of-age teen novel... only minus vampires. It's about a young boy, Leo Borlock, who meets the mysterious, quirky and eccentric Stargirl - a girl in Mica Highschool who literally dances to the beat of her own ukelele which she strums in the lunchroom wearing long flowy skirts, sunflowers and her pet rat (endearingly named Cinnamon) on her shoulder.

Stargirl is a true individual in a time in life when all we want to do is fit in and become part of the massive glob of teenage hormones. Leo and Stargirl fall in love but her individuality proves a problem for their relationship. Leo desperately wants to fit in and disappear while Stargirl's nature is to be herself and in a pool of homogenity this naturally leads to her garnering much - albeit negative - attention. Leo asks Stargirl to try and "be normal" for a while which she does for him because she loves him. She changes her name back to Susan, wears jeans, high heels, make-up and lipstick to class. She smacks her gum like the other girls, stops singing in the lunchroom and becomes obsessed with clothes. Her attempts at "normalcy" don't last long though and soon Stargirl goes back to her home-made dresses, curly hair and daily birthday song serenades to strangers.

I guess if you boiled the book down to its heart, it would be 1. always be yourself, even if it disrupts the status quo and makes you a loner, 2. never change your core self for another even if it's out of love and 3. pay attention to people's birthdays. Actually, just pay attention to people.

I think at one point or another we have all changed ourselves for love. Contorted our bodies (maybe literally through dieting or extreme exercise) into various odd shapes to fit our notion of what that "someone else" wants us to look like, act like, dress like - be like. We have lost ourselves either to a particular person or to a particular mass of people we deem more powerful and important than we are. On a very obvious and physical level, we see it today with the diet industry. For some reason someone has decided that long, silky, straight hair and a 12-year-old boy body with massive implants is what every woman should look like. On a more subtle level we see young women giving themselves away - completely - to men, to guys, to their boyfriends. There is a crazy notion that I think a lot of women believe which is that once a guy loves them only then will they begin to truly exist or matter or feel worthy. I am guilty of this too. I am also guilty of the trap the diet industry has set up about what the "ideal girl" should look like - so today, I take a small stand and wear my hair wild and curly.

"And... I see. I hear. But not with eyes and ears. I'm not outside my world anymore, and I'm not really inside it either. The thing is, there's no difference anymore between me and the universe. The boundary is gone. I am it and it is me. I am a stone, a cactus thorn. I am rain." She smiled dreamily. "I like that most of all, being rain." - (p.92) Jerry Spinelli, "Stargirl"

I've also included the trailer for the newest Pixar movie "Brave" due out Summer 2012. I love Pixar almost as much as Harry Potter so you can imagine how excited I am. I included this trailer because the girl in this movie reminds me of Stargirl and gives me hope for the girls of the future.

The End is Nigh



image courtesy http://www.eonline.com/


it's true. i am a Potter fan fanatic and i wave my freak flag HIGH and PROUD. i began reading the books when i was 11 when i very sick with a rare autoimmune disease. after coming back from the hospital, i remember that i would lay in bed in my yellow sponge-painted bedroom, with my dad asleep on a mattress on the floor (my mom was worried i would need someone in the middle of the night), a bowl of cheez-its and a glass of gingerale at my bedside table and "Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone" propped open on my tummy.

i remember laying there reading, feeling safe and warm - like i too was in the cozy Gryffindor common room swathed in maroon velvet tapestries and a fire crackling in the fireplace, sippping warm butterbeer with my best friends, Harry, Hermione and Ron. when the heaviness in my chest would not lift from breathing treatments or the medicine, Harry Potter never failed to bring respite. i could - and still can - open those books and completely escape. almost immediately i slip into a world dipped in golden sunlight and warmth.

a world where a special train will take you to a special school for young witches and wizards, where ghosts live in old castles, a world full of adventure and mystery, trolls, hippogriffs, spells, disappearing staircases, invisibility cloaks, protective patronuses, love potions, ancient stories and despite all its unusual aspects, a world where love and friendship and individuality thrive and prevail despite all odds. a world where evil exists but never succeeds. a world separate from our own but at times the same in all of the most important ways.

it is no wonder that i have re-read each of the seven books more than three times. i have also watched each of the movies more than three times. when the first movie came out, i was ecstatic to see the world that was painted in my mind brought to life onscreen. most of the movie was exactly how i imagined it. the books matured as they went on and so too did the movies - changing screenwriters, directors, cinematography moving from golden hues to bleak blue tones. i have anxiously awaited the release of each book and each movie, and have grown more and more excited with each new release.

don't you love my Deathly Hallows symbol new tattoo?

though i am pee-my-pants-excited to dress up in my Hogwarts uniform and see HP at 12:30 am on July 14, i also feel like a small lead is sinking in my tummy because i know this is the last one. the last midnight premiere. the last build-up of commercials and trailers and posters and signs. it is beautiful and sad like all endings because at the end, we mourn for the goodness that already happened that isn't happening at this moment. we feel sad that we can't have that high, that feeling every single day. we become attached to it and we begin to anticipate the sadness of the loss. whenever we lose something, we need to grieve. we need to feel sadness but we also have to feel thankful and see how far we - it - have come. we have no other choice but to be thankful for the journey, for where we've gone, what we've gotten past and through. but when we know it's over, that there is no more road to walk on, the sadness can be overwhelming. we must appreciate the beauty of the process, the beauty of what happened, of what is happening - of what is still in store for us. every artist, every writer of every decade and generation has tried to figuire out what is the purpose of life when life can be so meaningless and sad.

for me, J.K. Rowling has proven that we can almost always escape into the shadowy and delicate recesses of our minds, our imaginations and our dreams - that these mysteries give us hope of a powerful unknown much larger and greater than us. that positive creativity is our connection to the divine and that creativity is both the poison (or cause of) and the antidote to the suffering of mankind. we create everything. we create our own stories. we create meaning whether the meaning is positive or negative - we can even create the idea that there is no meaning. we create both our suffering and our joy through thoughts and actions - and this is truly the most important thing to know of all. well, that and Dumbledore's sage wisdom:

“That which Voldemort does not value, he takes no trouble to comprehend. Of house-elves and children’s tales, of love, loyalty, and innocence, Voldemort knows and understands nothing. Nothing. That they all have a power beyond his own, a power beyond the reach of any magic, is a truth he has never grasped.” - Albus Dumbledore

Movin' Out!



images courtesy http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/

 ever since i was a young thang, i always dreamed of having my own little apartment. for some reason, i always imagined it looking a lot like a white wooden, rustic garden cottage with wild sunflowers and daisies growing through the window and exposed brick walls. but this garden apartment would also somehow be magically in the middle of a small city. but very calm and quiet. with a pizza shop nearby. well, the time has finally arrived and i meet this new chapter of my life with a mixture of fear (bills?!?!) and great pride. i'm so excited to be moving in with Aly. to give you a snapshot of how great Aly is let me just explain yesterday (move-in Day #1) to you:

Aly and i on the floor of our empty, HOT! (we were too afraid to turn on the AC yet...) apartment with our one ikea purchase -a chalkboard. obviously this is very essential. we don't have anywhere to sit yet but we have a place to write... hmm is that not symbolic of an apartment of two bloggers or what?! anyway so we open up the chalkboard only to realize that *gasp* it requires assembly. we are pretty cute huh? we actually assumed that ikea would have already put our chalkboard together. but fear not, it was roommate challenge #1 and we passed with flying colors. Aly jumped in right away without hesitation, began reading the directions, matching the parts with the pictures and taking the reigns with confidence while i stared dumbly at her. (i found the chalk though, woohoo!) after some confusion over screw lengths and positioning we realized that ikea furniture is actually impossible to assemble alone because one person needs to hold the thing together while the other person uses that small Z shaped thing to wind the screws into place. once finished, Aly let me do the honors of writing "Welcome Home" on our newly assembled chalkboard. see how cool she is? she's a smart, fearless, thoughtful, can-do kind of gal. it just doesn't get much better than that.

oh and the reason why i included photos of outdoor spaces is because our apartment HAS A DECK! a quite spacious deck too actually - more than half the size of our bedrooms. we can't wait to decorate it with twinkly lights, a grille, patio furniture, plants and herbs.