Tennyson

More Bella Notte bedding. I adore this setting, even more so since several pieces are from the Tennyson collection. In amethyst. Could this be any more "meant to be"?

A Good Weekend

Despite the shock that I went from blond to brunette in 5.6 seconds, everyone seems to like the change. And so do I. My blue eyes just POP now and I've received dozens of compliments on them.


I saw two good movies this weekend: Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen and The Proposal. Transformers was better than I expected and I really enjoyed this movie, especially the soundtrack and especially The Used's cover of Burning Down the House.


The Proposal was a good show. I feel-good movie the likes of which I've not seen in a while. Yes, I've developed a crush on Ryan Reynolds. Totally boy-next-door meets hot-sex-symbol.


I also did a little (okay, a lot) of shopping at the boutiques in downtown Mesa and came home with a few treasures (I'll post pictures tomorrow). The best (or worst if you ask my bank account) is I finally found a bedding line I adore. Bella Notte Linens. The catch? It's pricey. As in, $380 for a dust ruffle pricey. I think I may just buy one or two things from the line and mix-and-match with Target finds. And then continue to dream of having a bed like this:

A Change Will Do You Good

(Excuse the messy bedroom. I have short-timers syndrome and really don't want to clean my apartment these days, knowing I'll be moving soon.)

Sephora = Sin

I'm not much a of make-up girl. I like what I like and I can go forever without trying a new product. However, this weekend I splurged on a couple new items and LOVE them. My favorite smarty pants, Michelle, forced me into Sephora on a recent mall trip. (This was the same mall trip in which I developed a deep and abiding infatuation with a hot, tattooed, pierced, baseball wearing Genius at the Apple store who was able to fix my Mac and revert me to semi-sanity.) Kicking and screaming, I was drug into Sephora and coerced into picking out items. Items such as:

EyeShadown Primer Potion by Urban Decay. This stuff seriously rocks. My eyeshadow looks as perfect at five as it did at seven. (Well, it does as long as I don't laugh and cry in the same conversation as I did with my good friend, Jamie, on Monday.) The icing on the cake, er, face? The bottles look like Genie bottles. (Have you ever noticed how close Genie is to Genius? Just saying.)



Kat Von D Lightning Sheer Lipgloss in Stormy. Holy cow, does this stuff rock. And it tastes good. You know, for when you lick your lips while the hot Genius is working on your lap...um, latTOP.

So, um, check out Sephora. But please, leave the hot Genius for me. ;)

Weak

So, um, I only made it one day into week five.

I am pathetically weak.

Incommunicado

The beginning of week five with no communication.

Still can't believe I am able to do this.

I miss him, I miss our friendship, but I need to do this.

Sometimes letting go is the only way.

*Image from flickr.

One of Each

I would like one of each item in the picture for my office in the new place. Check out Sadie Olive for more adorable stuff.

(Technically the cakes stands would go in the kitchen, not the office. Unless, of course, I felt the whim to decorate cakes in my office. Or store art supplies on the stands instead of cakes. I reserve the right to eccentricity.* And I already have the mail bin the last picture, but it's so cool I couldn't resist adding it here. I really vibe on vintage wire desk organizers...can you tell?)


* Yes, this is going to be my new tagline. Yes, I just made it up. Yes, I'm cool like that.

Friday's Thought of the Day

Just Breathe

My mantra over the past week has been: just breathe. Because if I'm breathing, things are not too terrible. What I wouldn't give to be on this road right now driving with the windows down and the radio up, playing a long-forgotten favorite country song. With the expanse of the world lying open before me and nowhere to go and nothing to do. Just being.

I'm counting down the weeks (seven from tomorrow) until I board that plane to Jackson that will take me home to wide open spaces. To a cabin at the base of of the mountains. To fresh air, warm days and cool nights. Mom's cooking. Dad's barbecue. Shopping for odds and ends at the local variety store. Walking around barefoot without burning the skin off my feet. Eating ice cream every night. Floating the river. Fishing. Driving up the Greys. Shopping in Jackson. Bubba's. Jenny Lake and Teton National Park. Family and friends and everything worthwhile in life.

Just seven more weeks.

Just breathe.

Airing The Laundry

In addition to my never-ending, energy-and-life-force-sucking guy, ur, BOY, problems, here is my laundry list of complaints with the universe:

1. My Beetle needs a new transmission and it's only 4 years old.


2. The tooth that I recently had work done on and is awaiting its permanent cap has begun to ache.


3. Interest rates have gone up so much that my forecasted monthly house payment has increased by $100 a month.


4. The closing costs on the townhouse/condo are going to be $700 more than expected.


5. The "genius" at the Apple Genius Bar really jacked up my OS and now I can't do anything on my MacBook.


6. My Verizon USB modem still will not work.


7. I've gained 2 pounds.


8. The evil, useless contraption in my laundry room known formerly as a washing machine has put holes in all my good shirts.


9. I have two tests and a five page paper due on Friday. I've not made progress on any of the three.


10. I will be car-less for three days.


11. I desperately need some new work clothes but can't buy any (see #1, #3 and #4).

I'm sure if I took the time I could find myriad other ways in which the universe has pissed me off. But I'll leave it for now.

Dear Universe (part II),

(not so) Dear Universe,

Perhaps you didn't think I was serious in my letter to you here. Perhaps you are trying to push me as far as you can before I snap. Well, I am almost there. And when I snap it won't be pretty...especially considering that I had tacos for lunch. And Nikki probably doesn't want to clean up anymore food by-product this week. So give it a rest, would ya.

Yours in perpetual angst,
Me

Happy Ending

I watched He's Just Not That Into You last night. I laughed, I cried, I winced a little bit when I saw too much of myself in Gigi. As ugly as the movie portrays our emotions, as women we can all own that we have felt that way at certain times. And I loved that they used Scarlett Johanssen, a far-from-skinny, beautiful woman as the sex symbol. Ben Affleck's expression and words when he asked Jennifer Aniston to marry him made me cry and I swooned when Alex told Gigi she was his exception. Sigh....too bad life isn't like the movies. My favorite quote has got to be this:

Maybe the happy ending doesn't include a wonderful guy. Maybe it's you. On your own, picking up the pieces and starting over. Freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is just...moving on.

The Open Door

If you've not heard this entire album, do yourself and download it from iTunes. I've been listening to it non-stop the past couple of days as it fits my mood perfectly.

Dear Universe

Dear Universe,

Please stop jacking around with my life. You may think it's fun, but if I have to put the smackdown on you, only one of us will be walking away.

Best,
Me

Bitter is the new Black

It's entirely possible, and more than probable, that the title of this post is also the name of a book that I saw at one point in time but can't recollect for certain. Wherever this ingenious title came from, it is certainly true as of late. At a movie Saturday night (The Ghost of Girlfriends Past) I realized that I am truly bitter. And bitchy. And all the other characteristics that go hand-in-hand with being heart-broken and walked all over. I'm pretty much mad at the world, and it's creator, for getting me into this position. Again. For hell's sake, can't anything ever work out? Just once? Is that too much to ask for? Really?

For what it's worth, I'm past the crying-at-love-songs and weeping-in-my-pillow stage. I've now reached the seriously pissed off stage in which I want to inflict physical and emotional pain. I want to lock him in a room and make him listen to the HSM soundtrack over and over and over. Bake him chocolate chip cookies with Exlax instead of chocolate chips. Tell everyone we know that he wears women's underwear.

Of course, I won't do any of the above. But a girl can dream...

Inspiration

I love this bedroom. The colors, the texture, the "romance". I am now on the lookout for netting like this (in the dove color or possibly even a pale, pale lavender) and similar bedding. If you know where to find it, please let me know. Because, wow, this is amazing. [See, this is what rocks about being single- I can decorate my bedroom as "girly" as I want. Which, admittedly, isn't very "girly"...it's more "feminine".]

And this office/studio? How comfortable does it look? I could easily ensconce myself in this room for hours on end.

Daydreaming

Someday, I'm going to live in a small town and either be a librarian or own a bookstore/cafe/bakery and sometimes I even dream of being the proprietor of a small bed and breakfast. The small town varies between a wooded mountain retreat and a little haven on the coast in Oregon or Washington. On days when I feel truly independent and equal-to-the-task, I own my own place. Other days I want the flexibility of having others to cover for me and I'm a librarian.

But whatever occupation I choose, my daydreams are the same. I live in a wonderful little cottage with vintage appeal. I bake bread and cookies and treats for my neighbors. I have a funky sense of style- a mix of classic chic, country girl and surfer chick- that is all my own. I carry pockets full of root beer barrels for the neighborhood kids (I'm always single in my daydreams because, well, I am in real life). Instead of a purse I carry a tote bag brimming with books and treasures. And always, ALWAYS, my life is content and simple. Not perfect, but just right.

It's curious to compare this to the life I am living now. I don't live in a small town nor do I live in a cottage. The new condo/townhouse is in a cookie-cutter neighborhood. My personal style is whatever is clean in the mornings before work and I eat the root beer barrels before I can divvy them out. I do carry the tote bag, though, and it IS brimming with books.

I can look at the differences between my imagined life and my reality and choose to be disheartened. Or I can see the differences for what they are. I'm buying the condo because I want a home of my own and moving away isn't practical right now because I get free tuition and I still have 2 years until I get my undergrad. That doesn't mean in the inside of the condo cannot be whatever I wish it to be. And maybe, if I really stop and look at it, my personal style is a conglomeration of the elements listed above and I just don't see it. And I am content with my life, for the most part. It's mine and mine alone. But my daydreams give me something to strive for and, dare I say, an escape when reality is just a little too real. Because we all need an escape once in a while.

Wish