My obsession with small living spaces continues, so this tiny, Tiffany blue trailer made my day. I wasn’t able to get a better picture as the door was open and I didn’t want the occupants to think I’m a creepy stalker.
Cookie dough that’s meant to be eaten raw! What more can I say to make this better? Cookie dough is one of the best things on the planet, so learning I can now indulge without making myself sick is truly a blessing.
Frankie the tortoise! She lives in the school library (along with three small frogs and an aquarium full of stick insects.) Normally, I favor fluffy, cuddly creatures, but there’s something about Frankie’s dinosaur-like demeanor that has won me over.
I haven’t felt the shopping bug for a while.
Last weekend, it caught me hard.
I spent about five hours at the mall in Nanaimo, and I didn’t leave empty handed.
As well as a book in Chapters, I bought an entire bag full of clothes at Reitmans (a dress, a pair of pants and bright pink floral blouse unlike anything else in my closet.) Then I went to Pier 1, and got lost in their world of perfect homes. I bought four mugs I don’t need, a table runner I don’t need, tea towels I don’t need (anyone sensing a theme here?) and a “garden flag.”
My Boy took one look at the flag and said, “Don’t put that in the front yard!”
When did he become the voice of reason to my wild decorating ideas? Oh, I remember–when he refused to paint the garden shed hot pink last spring.
Hang loose and keep those good vibes flowing!
When I was a girl, the accepted advice was never to mix patterns.
However, times change and fashion rules fall by the wayside.
As this emu hatchling demonstrates, polka dots and stripes can work together. The secret to making it work? Wear it with panache and confidence!
Fabulous stairs from Powell River’s historic Townsite.
They all lead up, up and away!
A sign things are looking up for me?
…or merely an indication I didn’t want to risk a trespassing charge by climbing them to photograph the view from the top?
Ever noticed that most problems don’t seem so big after some time has passed?
These goblets at the thrift store reminded me of a similar pair my mother-in-law presented to me mere weeks before my cursed wedding.
“Aren’t they gorgeous?” she asked, praising her own gift. “They’re for you and the Sailor to use at the reception!”
I went into panic mode. I’m not hugely bothered about small décor details, but these Flintstone-style cups were way out of my stylistic comfort zone.
I agonized over what to do, torn between not wanting to offend my future mother-in-law and the horror of incorporating these hideous babies into my wedding.
I’d forgotten about this “huge” problem until I saw the replica glasses. It was a reminder that most issues truly aren’t worth the emotional space we give them.
Oh, in case you’re wondering how the wedding glass fiasco resolved itself: my brother broke one just before the big day. He claimed it was an accident, but he also suggested the breakage should count as his wedding gift to me, so I’m not so sure.
I’m slightly obsessed with water views.
Probably because I grew up in a house with unobstructed ocean views. I had no idea how special this was until I moved away–and lived in a succession of homes with less than stellar views.
I don’t have ocean views at my new place, but the view I have is pretty wonderful–I see mountains!
I find myself wandering to the window to look at “my” mountains throughout the day. (They’re constantly changing.) I’m even looking forward to seeing them dusted with snow come winter. I’ve never anticipated winter with anything other than dread, so this is huge!
I see mountains!
When you haven’t even removed the tag from your new chesterfield, and someone has already rearranged the throw cushions to make herself more comfortable.
I tried a Korean sheet mask.
Walmart has quite a selection, including one made with donkey milk. (Who knew donkeys were milked for cosmetic purposes?!?)
I went for the “Supreme” gold hydrogel mask.
It was an…interesting experience.
The mask came in two pieces. With no illustration to guide me, I initially put the top half on upside down.
Once I’d repositioned it, it kept sliding down my face. (It was really slimy.)
Afterwards, my skin felt tacky, rather than soft, youthful and refreshed as promised on the packet.
Maybe I picked the wrong kind.
Anyone know if donkey milk is particularly slippery?
I inherited my dear old dad’s thick, frizzy hair.
Over the years, I’ve spent a fortune on different products to try and tame these locks of mine.
Who’d have thought I’d finally find the answer in the men’s grooming section of the drugstore?
It’s Brylcreem–my dad’s old stand-by!
It’s thick, creamy and smells like soap–good news for someone like me who gets a headache from heavy floral scents.
Best of all–it reminds me of my dad, smoothing a generous glob through his hair before leaving the house every morning.
I picked up this nifty little sign up at the thrift store.
It must be true because it’s painted on a block of wood.
(Sorry, cat people.)