somepinkflowers

tourist tuesday and my stay in the medina pavilion at peacock pavilions

From my library's dormer window I see five grey squirrels scampering up the oak trees in the front yard. They seem busy  and filled with earnest purpose.

It is April in north Florida and some serious squirrel*nest building is going on in a location Up High.

Serious house*nest cleaning and re-organization is going on inside my home, too. 

My spring cleaning happens like clock~work every April as I prepare to fly the coop in May for my vacation.

I want everything spiffy before I leave town. If my plane goes down and I end up LOST on some deserted island, I want my family & crew to find a clean place to gather whilst awaiting my return.

:-)

May is the best month to be in FLorida if the wild fires have not yet gone raging mad.

I know, I know.

Why do I leave my home just when plants are staring to green up, before Mr. Humidity moves in & smothers the entire state and before Hurricane Season sneaks in with all her windy baggage?

I paint such a fine picture of Florida one can not WAIT to visit!

May is the best time to be most any place on the map as far as I am concerned.

Hotels have been spruced up for the season, students are not clogging the beaches and airplane fares have not sky-rocketed through the roof, waiting as they usually do for June.

Last May it took me over 36 hours to travel from my front door in Florida to the front door of Peacock Pavilion in Marrakesh.

I arrived in the middle of the night, delivered by a polite young driver from the airport, to find Maryam & others waiting up for me.

Maryam & I both started our blogs in August of 2006. I followed her straight away as she & her handsome, architect husband Chris Redecke built their dream~come~true home in Peacock Pavilion.

I looonged to travel to this place, to look up into the grand domed ceilings of the salons, but saw no way for it to happen logically.

I sent these encouraging words in an email to Maryam in 2007 when delays were plaguing the completion date of Peacock Pavilion {{ I only last week  rediscovered the message saved in the Wrong Folder on my Old Computer. Go figure! }}

""I am a BIG believer

that we each move toward our Dominate Thought,

and that we draw things to us in this fashion.""

Why, I had no idea!
Peacock Pavilion must have become a Dominate Thought for me...

Peacock Pavilion is divided into several stand~alone buildings.

When I made my journey to Marrakesh last May, one might say it actually took me 4+ years to get there, I ended up staying in the very room I had imagined all along as being mine in the Medina Pavilion.

I love how these things happen, don't you?

The photos I share with you here are of the Medina Pavilion taken by me last spring.

Clearly, Maryam's eye for Morocan design detail is above reproach.

Perhaps you have seen photos of Peacock Pavilion on other blogs as it has become THE travel destination of many who seek yoga and art retreats of the highest quality.

While the top-notch B&B accommodations and exotic location are beyond stellar, the cuisine is the best you will find anywhere in the world. Many of  the fresh herbs & vegetables are grown on the grounds.

Yes.
It is here you will find Charming Luxury in Marrakesh.

At these risk of sounding like a advert, I have to share this news with you.

If you enjoy the photos here, you might enjoy Maryam's new book, Marrakesh By Design,  which will be available in the states on May 1st.

I have pre~ordered mine on Amazon.com.

Hopefully my copy will be waiting for me when I return from my vacation in June.

What is your Dominate Thought, travel*wize?

what i wore to the oscars last night

I am nothing if not Fashionable over here in my north Florida home minutes from the sea.

After much FB chat yesterday concerning what I should wear to the Academy Awards last night, I fell into my old stand by...

Yes, as always, when in a pinch, I decided on Craft Casual for my Oscar watching attire.

After only 2 crochet lessons under my belt, I decided I was ready to take off on my own armed with Chain, Double Crochet and Shell Stitch.

Welcome to Miss Striped Afghan!

"...And who are you wearing? " Tim Gunn asks, leaning in for a closer look at the striped afghan placed seductively in my lap. I am sitting on the floor crocheting in front of my TV. It was so thoughtful of Tim to pop in.

"Well, Tim, I am wearing a silky soft bamboo blend by Caron in shades of ocean spray, dark driftwood and stormy blue," I answer breathlessly, holding my matching green~metalic Boye crochet hook, 5.50mm, delicately in my right hand.

My right leg slides out coyly from underneath the draped Project~in~Progress.

"I am so happy to be here!" I tell Tim honestly, reaching for another skein of green sheen.

{{  I think Angelina Jolie got that leg idea from me, but I could be wrong... }}

tourist tuesday goes back in time

Quickly, quickly take my hand.
We are going back in time!

Think sweet*granny historical thoughts
& mind the stairs as we go up...

Treasures hidden under mother's old bedside table.
I bet you want to look inside.

Maybe another day...

Turn left at the faded tulips which have seen a better day...

White  Cockatoo stands guard over precious water stained wood...

Willetta's purse hangs on the wall with a secret inside.
I bet you want to look inside.

Maybe another day...

Window to the World via London souvenir from 40+ years ago.
Big Ben chimes here on the hour.

My daddy's crossword puzzle dictionaries and reference, pages marked...

What story in the stamp guide?
Faded illustrations from a country no longer on the map.
I bet you want to look inside.

Maybe another day...

A wee,white-throated bird who longed to see his family left his pink cage & skipped town.

He flew plum out the Window to the World, leaving an email address with White  Cockatoo.

Did he fly to London? Italy? Madrid?

We will never know as White  Cockatoo is the strong silent type.

Well, that story is as old as the hills.
Remember, we turned the corner and are back in time.

You can rest a while, beside my grand-father's straw hat which was tailored specifically for him back in the day.

{{ No one can find you back in time. }}

Then click here when completely refreshed & you will be returned safely home. Maybe.  Until next time. ♥

for days and days i waited

By nature I am not a patient person.

I will flip the pancake too soon before the perfect little bubbles have formed. Every time.

Patience is illusive to me as a new born butterfly.

:-)

Which brings my lesson...

I bought the fennel. And the dill. And the parsley. Flat-leaf AND curly.

I weeded. Watered. Waited.

They came, the butterflies, and left me 10,000 white teeny pearl eggs which started to wiggle and grow.

Every morning I watched.
Every afternoon I counted.
I never actually interfered but after each storm I rushed to count again.

The numbers dwindled as they are apt to do.

Fourteen yellow, black & white striped caterpillars grew thick as my little finger then conjured lime~green chrysalis magic.

This young, black swallowtail I watched all morning long as she Became and flew away.

By nature I am not a patient person.
Having her way, Nature is patiently teaching me my lesson.

Oh happy day!

tourist tuesday and shopping for carpets in the medina

I am the Grand Poobah of Color Collecting.
You can ask anybody.

I collect skeins of  yarn, boxes & boxes of colored pencils and many, many memories of Technicolor dreams.

Color in every summery shade under the sun, every tantalizing tint tucked behind the moon.

I was beside myself with joy whilst recently visiting Marrakesh.  Color was everywhere and in between every thing and even stacked overhead. Name a color. It was there. Trust me.

Colorful spices, colorful tiles, colorful carpets.

With a satisfied party led by the knowledgeable Queen of Carpet Collecting herself I learned the subtle ways of  the Beni Ourain and the symbol~filled style of the flat~weaves.

I could hardly breath from the excitement. You really have no idea.

Fortunately there were glasses of mint tea passed around to keep us all grounded.

One hand on the camera, one hand on the wool.

Some carpets were deep & creamy with smokey patterns meandering through.

Others were filled to the tiptop with saturated orange, violet, saffron and pink.

I was seated in Color Heaven.

Except for the temperature outside, nothing here looked or felt like home.

It was wonderful.

Was there only one Special carpet that would take me for a magic ride up and out and about the globe?

How could I pick the best, hand-knotted, travel tool of all time?

Did I find it?
Can you spot it?
Well, need I say?

Clearly my life is already One Magic Carpert Ride...

tourist tuesday and pioneer square in seattle

I looooooove surprises of the Good kind.
Don't you?

I think how wonderful it would to be present during a flash mob. Everytime I go to the airport in a Major City I sit and wait for one to happen.

I am that kind of ever~hopeful girl.

For the longest time I have followed this fabric artist religiously as she makes her way from one yarn adventure to another.

Whilst walking around Seattle town recently with these two we came upon a magically~striped site.

My first thought was---> How did my knitting hero from Australia somehow end up in Seattle?

But NO! that was not the case. 

Have you ever been to Seattle?
Well, this was my first time and soon I discovered every corner of that place is frosted in art*work.

Thank goodness.

I do not knit one little bit but I am a Grand Appreciator of yarn.

I collect many fine colors and place them here and there around my space in roundy bowls and accommodating baskets.

My thinking on this is The Process of Osmosis.

If I live with A Thing long enough, how to do it will come to me in my sleep.

So far this idea has not come to fruition as I sleep with an Italian dictionary under my bed and still my command of Italian is limited to ordering simple food.

But,
I digress...

Like a pileated woodpeaker spotted in the woods pecking, we found the Master Knitter at her toil.

So friendly was Suzanne Tidwell and happy to share information, we chatted for a bit and found she had made all these colorful and warming sleeves herself...

...except maybe for this one which seems to me to be crocheted.

But I could be wrong, as I told you earlier, all my personal yarn sits rolled ball~like and patiently waiting in sweet anticipation.

Anyhoo, this is how it is done.
The secret is out.
Knitters do NOT stanad up on ladders knitting the cozies in place round and round and round the tree for days on end.

Here pre~knitted purpley pieces wait--near the ubiquitous seattle coffee--to clad long, tall things in need of covering.

Will someone please hand this one her pink~striped beach towel?

{{ I am not one bit surprized that cutting~edge Seattle allows nude sun bathing in city parks. }}

how to have breakfast with a peacock

Arrange to wake up under the magical lights hanging from this amazing ceiling...

Walk barefoot out this door into the sun*shine of a new Moroccan day...

Step lightly between the yellow flowers blooming underfoot, make your way through the old olive grove...

Stop to pet Baby Lilly {{who might have slept with you the night before}}...

Brush past the never~sleeping, hot~pink bougainvillea standing guard...

Take your time and quietly mosey past the tempting pool where birds dip down for a quick drink...

Duck your head ever~so slightly to avoid the baby olives still growing on gracefully swaying branches...

Ease onto the breakfast terrance where the tile feels pleasant on naked feet...

Wait patiently for charming Chantal to set out her yummy delights {{a stellar chef who trained here and other places}}...

Enjoy your breakfast under the watchful eye of the peacock~gourmand ...

Taste jellies and jams made on~site {{ calories removed by Chantal, I was promised }}...

Enjoy everything, have seconds...

The daily activites are posted near the ever~present mint tea brewing stately...

Early~morning visit with the interesting and lovely Leni {{ + her daughter, Fanny, and others, Arianna , Carole, Erika, Tawney and Natalie }}...

Enjoy it all...
waking up to the stenciled ceiling overhead, strolling through the grove, petting the lovey cat, tasting everything on the table because Maryam has Special Plans for the day and you will not want to miss a thing...

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~***~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~***~~*~~*~~*

on my way to see this...back soon to visit...

tourist tuesday and finding color along the canal st-martin

 Almost always I have to have my hands up in color.

Most recently my vacationing hands were busy working threads lime and brown.

Thanks to inspiration from here and encouragement from there, I presently have a few, locally-grown, red beets tied up in bits of old white linen just to see what will happen with the passage of time.

So far it is a bit like watching paint dry.

Hope this dyeing with red beets business turns out better than the dyeing experiment with the dark green spinach.

We will see.

Whilst in Paris last May I made my way over to the Canal St-Martin.

Nothing much colorful about a canal except for those who sometimes live in boats on them.

Anyway, I had heard conflicting stories about the Canal  St-Martin and decided to scope it out for myself.

Some people gush how romantic it is to float leisurely down the canal while others say bobbing along the narrow waterway waiting on the locks to open up is a Terrible Waste of Paris Time.

Growing up between the St. Johns River and the Atlantic Ocean I learned way-back-when that for me most any time spent on water is time happily spent.

My memory just now conveniently tossed out one particularly unpleasant trip crossing the rough Irish Sea on a seemingly small and unstable ferryboat. 

I love how lately my mind erases the unfortunate parts that happened year and years ago.

The Romantic in me expected this vision as after all I was In  Paris.

And, if you saw this movie you saw the Canal St-Martin for the teeniest second.

 When I rounded the corner and saw this I decided to skip the ride down the canal and to walk along the banks instead.

 What a clever girl I was that day.

I found my color!

And in my bright yellow suitcase, I brought back some fun just for you.

green me in the green mountains

Well
I did not fly to London to visit the Queen but almost.
I jumped aboard a big ol' jet airliner
to Vermont to see this one
for an art journaling workshop. 
Oh happy week!

Thanks so much, eb!
{{ Stay tuned. }}

tourist tuesday and inside the chateau de chambord for art appreciation

"Go to your happy place. " Dr. H. instructed as he adjusted my face mask for the nitrous oxide.

Recently I bit into a glazed pecan only to have a molar crumble at the task of chewing it.

One~third of the tooth was filling, one~third of the enamel was hanging on for dear life and the other third I had swallowed along with the mostly~chewed glazed pecan.

When it comes to most things--like relocating live snakes and burying dead mice--I stand tall and strong. Just call me the Relocator.

When it comes to drills grinding away inside my mouth, I try to mentally float off to somewhere else. Just call me the Real*chicken.

For someone who is careful about what she swallows, I am first in line when it comes to breathing in a gas that will transport me up and out of the way.

When it comes to dental work I want to feel no pain.

I am just funny that way.

When Dr. H. told me to visit my happy place, I hardly knew where to turn as I have so many.

Then I remembered I had left you over here at the Chateau de Chambord hanging around outside the front door with the big~headed ladies.

You may remember, not that this is a pop~quiz or anything, that this chateau was once the hunting lodge of Francois I of France.

While his sons were being held for ransom in Spain, Francois decided to spend his money instead building this magnificent lodge. Rumor has it he spent less that 45 days total in residence here.

I spent one entire day there myself.

The chateau's double-helix staircase is attributed to Leonardo da Vince who, at the time, lived not very far away in Amboise. I guess you could say they were neighbors.

A double-helix staircase means that two staircases are wrapped around each other in a manner that allows one person to use one stairway while another person uses the other stairway. The two people would never even see each other.

I can see how this might be useful, can't you?

Personally I used the stairway to spy on other people I did not even know.

When you travel alone like I do,  you grab your people~shots anyway you can find them.

Plus, I am all about 'available light' and 'silhouette shots' which seems so appropriate inside a thick~walled castle where lighting is slim~pickin's.

I like to think maybe at one time Leonardo stood on the staircase right where I stood and spied on people, too.

Maybe he stood right where I stood and invented something.

Who can really say?

Finally it dawned on me.
Many of the rooms were being used as art galleries.

Big~headed ladies were featured inside the castle as well as outside.

For a hunting lodge, this chateau had big~headed ladies all over the place.

I might still be there photographing all the big~headed ladies but from the corner of my eye I spotted a library of sorts.

Aren't these books wonderful!
Across from this desk was a wall filled with wooden books from the floor to the ceiling.

It plum took my breath away and I missed my shot.

It was all I could do to keep my hands off of this wooden lamp shade.

Finally I tore myself away and climbed up the double-helix staircase all the way to the Italianate rooftop terrace.

I felt like I was standing on a HUGE chess board.

I marinated in the A~in~Wonderland moment.

Then I turned and looked across the estate.
Badly I wanted to kayak around the moat but that option was not available.

Maybe next time.

From this perch I could see the big~headed ladies standing guard near the front door.

Then I realized I had not shown you my secret little favorite room.

First, here is one of the smaller rooms for resting after hunting, I suppose.

It was not lost on me how cleverly the fire~extinguisher color*wize matches the upholstered chairs which surround the room.

Clearly modern conveniences have been added since 1519.

Ta~da!
My sweet little napping corner tucked away from the big~headed ladies and the ancillary hunting artwork.

So much I wanted to plop down here and take a wee nap the day I visited.

So this was my 'happy place' today, Dr. H...

While you went to work grinding and repairing my molar--so that soon I will be able to appreciated glazed pecans once again--I was dancing with the big~headed ladies at Chateau de Chambord.

Then I napped surrounded by somepinkflowers.

Somewhere in all this happiness I dream~danced with Leonardo or it might have been Moses.

the sketchbook project tour 2011

Oh happy day!
Out of the clear blue sky the loveliest of things often makes its merry way up the old brick walk to my front door!

My life is full to the brim over here.

I lack for nothing except Time...

Did I tell you I saw Ringo Starr in concert last Saturday? He is 70 years old and still dancing around the stage not looking the slightest bit silly. He played the drums and sang like he had been doing it his whole life. People cheered and sang along.

He also sang some of his new songs.

Life is so good when we try new things, when we write our own new songs.

All around me I am reminded it is never too late to start something different.

Everyday over here something must be done in a creative fashion.

I bet you are the same way!
You and me and Ringo--all creating things in our own way.

For the longest time I have been inspired by the imagination of this prolific art journalist. Everyday there is some brightness brewing and exposing itself on her blog.  

Then I stumbled across this one putting out art and ideas left and right.

When my vision started to go wonky last year I started thinking about refocusing some of my new found art*energy on journaling.

Weeks ago I learned about The Sketchbook Project from this blogging friend.

I was so encouraged, so intrigued by the idea of it all.

"It is like a concert tour but with sketchbooks." I was told.

I filled out the information and entered into the event!

The Sketchbook Project would be my own new song.

When the package from the Art House Co-op arrived a band played inside my heart.

Possibilities blossomed inside my brain.
I am now hooked in the most pleasing way.

I read the rules through and through.
I thought about all the people in the world who just MIGHT read my little booklet.

My sketchbook journal will be on display next year at the Brooklyn Art Library!

I have not yet been to the Brooklyn Art Library but someday my journal will be sitting there next to a thousand other sketchbook journals waiting to be checked out by regular people.

Isn't life grand! 

"...hopefully hundreds of fingers will be flipping through its pages," the information sheet sings a melody sweet of expectation.

"oh boy  !  oh boy  !  oh boy ! ," answers my imagination in excited harmony.

Here is my plain, black, skinny journal. I am thrilled to have it!

My journal could grow up to be anything! A ballerina. A fireman. Anything at all!

Who is to say at this point...

Stay tuned and you can watch me make my booklet.

I have rules to follow, sure, but the world is mine when I write and sketch and etc.

The theme I was given fits me to a T---->Inside/Outside.

Doesn't that just about cover everything?
Doesn't that just about cover anything?

Oh happy day!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh happy day all around!
Oh happy birthday to you, dear Constance.
May the day bring you new songs
and blossoming creativity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tourist tuesday and the chateau de chambord

More and more with passing time I have become satisfied with my lot in life.

As I write this sentence my aging Spike~the~cat has thrown up near me here on the white carpet.  Bless his heart, Spike never chooses the Italian tile in the kitchen for his deposits.

Aaaahhhh...What was I saying?
The life of the satisfied...

Yes. What young girl does not dream of living in a castle? Long, straight hair flowing down her back whilst a golden crown sits a top her head.

All the day long, wandering around her castle. Looking out windows she does not have to clean.

As I early morning bus around the Loire Valley chateau hopping, I am these days most drawn to the out buildings.

A newer ground~keeper's lodge, maybe. Cozy, manageable, homey.

This smaller place outside the walls of Chateau de Chambord begged me to visit.

I know what you are thinking!

It is the somepinkflowers calling me.
Well, that is part of the charm, it is true.

When I am castle viewing I get easily distracted by amusing towers, protective balustrades and such.

You know how I am always looking up...
How I do not want to miss a thing...

Chambord has been designated a world heritage site by Unesco.

What this means is that if you are in the neighborhood you MUST drop by. A visit would be mandatory.

Chambord was built by Francis I in 1519 as a hunting lodge.

When I was growing up my family had a hunting lodge over here but it looked nothing what-so-ever like this.

Our family hunting lodge had not a single turret. Our little camp had 2 rooms and a bathroom in a small wooden building down a long trail. If you were fortunate a deer might be spotted when you needed to go.

Chambord has 77 staircases, 282 fireplaces and 426 rooms. I feel certain chamber~pots were used.

Looking up and up and up I wonder about things like air~conditioners and washing machines and dishwashers and other mod cons.

If I had lived in the day, most~likely I would have been the washing machine or the dishwasher.

We cannot all be princesses, except to our own daddy.

Still, all in all, as I wander about the grounds, I try to pick out my own room.

Can you see the one I picked? Up high with a broad window for my art studio.

Such paintings I would make with no cable TV to tempt me.

I could sit out here on the balcony and catch some rays whilst looking down on the fiefdom folks who would be washing the windows for me.

Yes.
It is good to be the queen.

Walking around to the entry way I notice the lack of flowering plants BUT I do see amazing sculpture left and right. Amazing!

Clearly this is no ordinary chateau.

Chambord presently serves as a vast, ever~changing art gallery both inside and out!

Thank you , thank you ever~so, Unesco!
Nice call!

Art in the park. At its best.
The Chambord Estate is the largest enclosed forest park in all of Europe.

What we have here is a national game reserve containing many types of animals living in the wild,  over~seen by large heads each wearing a metal headdress.

My heart is stolen by Miss Butterfly Head.

Isn't she grand! And so totally unexpected!

Here is the front door with wooden block~heads standing guard on each side.

Hard to make out their lovable chunky style...

I will wait here at the entrance way whilst you take it all in.

See the blocky head standing guard there on the right? Looking a bit like Dumbo the Elephant with flappy ears and, yet, somehow charming still.

This is as far as I can take you on this Tourist Tuesday as I must attend my Spike who apparently ate a bit of a benign house~plant leaf.

Aaaahhhh...Yes.
More and more with passing time I have become satisfied with my lot in life for I have seen delightful arty things. Right here inside this castle are quite a few delightful arty things.

Do come back again and I will share them with you.

In the meantime, walk around the grounds, look up and select your room. The one with the best view to suit your needs is yours.

somepinkflowers and the mad tea party 2010

You are invited to

The Mad Tea Party 2010
Annual Festivity of Madness

hosted by
A Fanciful Twist

Pop 'round to Vanessa's
and
follow the links!

Everyone is welcome!

You will not want to miss a thing!

{{ I may be late
whilst I obtain my parade permit. }}

brought back 4 beth

"There is is again, " Beth alerts me for maybe the 4th time today.

"Do you see it?" Her face is all smiles from the sighting.

For weeks now Beth has been pointed to this bright shade of green as it saunters into the library.

On a book bag, a twirly skirt, a sweater cuff, whatever.  A satisfying shade of green.

Beth's green was first spotted in early March on a book bag. Spotted in northeast Florida where it was still too cold outside to suit my warm~water fancy.

Wake up in the morning in March and you never know what to put on. Wool socks or flip~flops.

Here, inside the library, Beth was craving  spring colors.

Not just any old green.

She wanted a certain, happy green. Her dreams hung high on it. This slightly boastful green.

"I love that color, " Beth says. Her eyes are all but glazed over with pigment~lust.

"I want to to go buy something that color."

When April arrived Beth was still at it.

"There is is again, " Beth alerts me, time and time again.

"I want to to go buy something that color!" Beth says but never does.

I should not put all the blame on Beth.
I am an enabler of the color~kind. If you like a particular hue I will poke you in the ribs until you look. I try to be helpful.

I am proud to say, I have supported Beth's growing addition.  Yes, I have pointed out her green many times so she will not miss it as it went waltzing by on quiet library toes.

"Look, Beth, there! " I would say pointing to the  bright limey t~shirt on the teen walking toward the stacks.

"Come. Look now!"

Then in May I visited Paris.
What do you think?

Beth's green was everywhere. Everywhere.

Beth's green must have been the IT color of the season, is all I can think.

It swam near the Pompidou.

It sat in a bowl on a picnic near the Arc de Triomphe.

It danced on a sign for  the Musee du Quai Branly.

It grew fragrantly in a shop on Rue Cler.

It hung in the trees near Notre Dame.

It boasted in a shop window on the Ile Saint Louis.

 

"Look, Beth, there! " I would say softly every time I saw it.
"Come. Look now!"

tourist tuesday and the faces of venice

Well, I am in the system again.

No.
I am not in the travel~somewhere~fun~system where the airport shuttle arrives amazingly early in the still~dark morning hours. Always planning for unexpected contingencies, I leave at least 2 hours before I actually need to.

Not that I am a perfectionist or anything like that.

I leave early when I travel Just In Case.
In case a tire goes flat {it never does}, in case the shuttle~driver is new to the job {he never is}, in case the plane takes off early {it never does}.

But if someone doesn't worry isn't concerned about these little things, they might actually happen.

"What happens if the van suddenly dies?" I ask the pleasant shuttle~driver, a retired military man named Jack originally from New Jersey.

"...Not that I think it might, you understand...but what if it did?" I question, poking my tummy where the money~belt not~so~secretly announces itself through my denim jeans.

I get travel~proud and toss and turn the whole night long before I travel. I fret over silly things. I bet you are the same way.

Having not slept much the night before I tend to push my own worry button. I push it hard from lack of rest. Push, push, push.

I will lighten up once the airport is within skipping distance. Once I am on the plane I am in my element.

No. I am not going anywhere fun. Not this time.
I am not in the travel~somewhere~fun~system.
I am in a different system.

I am in the get~that~wonky~eye~fixed~again~system.

I know... I know...
You have heard enough about my hole~in~the~retina adventure. My gas~bubble~in~the~eyeball escapade. My three weeks in FaceDownLand.

"Enough already!" you are most likely saying and truthfully I do not blame you one bit.

My smart and swoony doctor TOLD me this might happen so I was not taken completely unaware.

"You might develop a traumatic cataract in that wonky left eye of yours, somepinkflowers," said my smart and swoony doctor.

"After the gas bubble has done its job," my smart and swoony doctor goes on, "and then slips out the back you might be left with blah   blah       blah      blah          blah."

Great! I remember saying to myself.
{ I think I said it 2 times. }
Great!

But, really, I had no choice.

One day I am living it up, eating by the lagoon. Life is good.

Three weeks later I am TRYING to read on the beach near my house and cannot as a tea~stain seems to center itself at every location I look.

Being the ever hopeful type, for several days I was plum in denial.

I went to this doctor and then that one. It is all history at this point. Water under the bridge, so to speak.

You know what they say---> 'Time heals all broken bits somewhat.' I forget who said that.

Anyway, here I am now. All hopeful and everything. Millions of people have this surgery everyday.

Well, not millions but you know.

Still, when it is YOUR eye you get kind of freaky about it. At least I do. Grrrrr...

They are going into my eye, taking out one thing and then putting in another thing.

I am trying HARD not to push my own worry button as I sit here filling out this pre-op questionnaire:

'Is it difficult for you to read prices? To recognize faces?'   
Man, is it.... I cannot even tell who YOU are right now.

'What are your favorite hobbies?'     
Oh, dear...My 15 hobbies all needed BOTH eyes, thank~you very much.

'How much time per day do you spend on the computer?'    
Oh, dear times 10...Let me count...hummmm...4 hours at work, 4 hours at play, 4 hours in between.

'How would you describe your personality?'

____  Easy going?  ____  Perfectionist?  ____  In between the two?

I smile and place a check in all three spaces. Just in case...

 

Yes, I am in the get~that~wonky~eye~fixed~again~system.

I am putting 3 different eye~drops in my eye 3 times a day.
They all say this on the side---> Store in cool, dry place.

Tuesday is pre-op; Wednesday is procedure.
Thursday I will be storing myself in a cool, dry place.

Then I will be seeing you and your lovely face.

I am ever hopeful.

why does this always happen?

Noir Romantique.  Color Fever by Lancome. Square case. Red and silver.

Lipstick swivels up. Smells yummy. Slides, glides on waiting lips. Transformation.

Lipstick swivels down. Top clicks on. Locks in place.

Click. That click! So satisfying. How can I tell you? Click.

Noir Romantique. What a name! See the color?

Bright red? Not on this head...
Hot pink? Don't even think...
A nude-pink, no-color color.

''Lasting radiance. Sensual lip color.''

No gloss. No shine. Lips natural. Lips ready.
For cold weather. For hot love.

Noir Romantique. Evocative? Steamy?
No!   No!   No!
Innocent...Dreamy...

{{ You cannot even tell you have it on.  Almost. }}

Expensive. But it will last    f o r e v e r.

Plus, that click! So satisfying. How can I tell you? Click.

Last forever?    HA!
Because I LOVE this product,
as happened to my favorite Nike running shoe,
Noir Romantique has vanished. Never to be seen again.

"Bonne nuit, nude-pink, no-color color! Au revoir!"

Click.

tourist tuesday and la pedrera

It came into my mind to give you a little gift. A brief escape from this February 2010 Cold Wave.

Last week was my birthday and I am so fortunate. Next week is St.Valentine's Day and I am so romantic ♥ ♥ ♥

Yes, a gift for you of a warm sunny day in Spain. This gift is for Leslie and other friends like you who may be snowed in or freezing your buns off somewhere around the world...

Here we go. Come with me.
We are walking, walking, walking in Barcelona. Up La Rambla away from the warm Mediterranean Sea where the nude beaches are crowded with both visitors and locals. The end of May finds the day balmy and the sun feels good on our tan legs.

We turn right on Place de Catlunya where the lovers kiss and red tourist buses wait. We saunter up Passeig de  Gracia.

We are walking, walking, walking and there it is the dreamy building on the right. An ocean wave of a building, too, with windows tucked in out of the sun's glare.

Here I give you---> Casa Mila!

Wait here as I get the tickets which are a treat from me so worry about nothing.

Look at the amazing glass door as I work my way through the crowd.

Ponder my architectural hero Gaudi. I love him so and you will, too, if you stick with me from down here on the ground to the tippy~top of the most amazing roof you have ever seen in your short life~time.

Immediately we are inside a courtyard. Look up and see the colors swirling.

This building designed and built by Gaudi in the 1900s is called La Pedrera--the Quarry--as it does resemble  a cliff  eroded by years of sea and saltwater wind.

Do not miss a single detail. That Gaudi! He was a master of design. He works with cement, iron and glass.

No space is too small to be left undecorated. Every square inch is his canvas.

Please do notice how the hanging garden color is repeated in the painted wall. When no plants are in bloom, the wall is.

Look up and up and further still.
Each window has a little eyebrow to shade the light. The towers on the roof scoop the air and bring it down into every room. Fresh air for all.

I am greatly impressed by such thoughts of engineering for comfort contained in artistic fashion.

We will walk to the top but do not be impatient. Take your time. If you want to stop, we will wait for you right here.

This is your gift after all.

Inside there is a museum to honor the time of Gaudi. You know how I do not like to miss a thing. Well, do not miss a thing yourself!

Here you may use your camera and no one will try to stop you. You can snap away until your heart's content.

Everything in this room stole my heart.

That is a Singer sewing machine with foot pedal. Look at the sweet overhead light~fixture.

Look at the tile floor which is timeless and cool underneath our sandals on this warm day.

I drool in this room over the embroidery but, NO, I would not want to use that iron for very long, would you?

Here I am capturing the moment for all time.
I have such green envy for this coat rack. In my greediness I cannot understand why it cannot be mine!

Do not forget we are in the city. I think that is Carrer de Provenca down below.

Here is a bedroom with the loveliest painted head and foot board on a rather non-king-sized bed.

The wee baby's bed breaks my heart in its detail.

Ahhhh...
Look how the drapery pools on the floor. I want to wrap myself up in its softness. The large tassel makes me swoon.

Hand carving around each window sill. All the wood is rich and pleasing.

The dishes are drying near the sink.

Up we climb stairs to the nursery. The shape of each window is like a doll's house. The pattern on the floor demands its own attention. {{ For some reason I find dolls resting just so to be a bit unnerving. Too many spooky shows on the TV, maybe? }}

Still, imagine living in such a fantastic place as a child!

Here we go out onto the roof.
Do not worry about falling. Wire fences have been added since Gaudi's day.

You can run your hands over the smooth cement of the walls. You can plop down on any level and look out over the city.

Sit down and rest, rest. Take it all in. No snow for miles and miles. Warm, sunny Spain!

Take your time. Look out but look near~by, too.

Gaudi may have been the first recycler. I do not know but look at the broken glass in his decorated tower top.

I know he had a work~team but I like to think Gaudi placed each glass piece just so.

Remember the towers serve a purpose. The holes capture sea breezes, sending it down air shafts to freshen up the apartments.

I long to yell down one shaft. Wha-hoo......
But I do not.

I run my hand over every smooth surface I can reach.
I drink in the blue sky and the cool tiled. What do you think?

Little soldier towers standing guard, looking  like Darth Vader heads. Eyes peeking.

Wha-hoo...... I long to shout, again, but you are keeping me polite.

I want to climb up here every day. I want to bring a picnic and have my lunch on this roof..

I want to lie here like a lizard in the sun.

Faces scooping sea breeze air.
I wonder if a cloud ever floats into a tower, slides down the shaft and sits near the baby's wee bed to sing a lullaby. I wonder.

See. This is what we saw when first we entered the courtyard and looked up.
Do you remember the little windows with the eyebrow shades built in?

That Gaudi and his towers! All the other local roof~tops look silly in their plainness. I would only want to live in this building, wouldn't you?

See how I am captured by it all? 
Soft, fluffy clouds dancing around smooth, hard tile towers.

OK. OK. OK.
I will stop now and leave you here for your own play on the roof~top of La Pedrera.

I only wanted to give you a small gift of warmth in May in Spain. I only wanted to take you away from snow and cold and ice and naked tree branches in February.

It came into my mind to give you a little gift. A brief escape from this February 2010 Cold Wave.

I hope you have enjoyed this small reprieve from an overly~long, harsh winter. You may stay here and enjoy the warm sun on your skin as long as you feel the need.

After this maybe I should take you down to the nude beach.
We will see.

one world one heart 2010

Sometimes Mother Nature reaches down and stirs up a bit of troublesome wind. She stirs too roughly and a tornado is born.

When she is out of control she can plum whip up a hurricane of magnificent proportions.

Sometimes she gives a simple shudder and the land tumbles beyond recognition. I so hate when that happens.

A few weeks ago Mother Nature shivered the south into the coldest days we have seen in quite sometimes.  Strawberries froze on the ground. Oranges froze on the tree.

I did my darnest not to wish too strongly for snow where it did not belong.

Last Thursday, a plain enough day starting out, Mother Nature tore through my little town. She traveled in a thunderous manner frowning the sky black at mid~day.

Mother Nature flooded the roads with so much rain the ditches are still over~flowing days and days later. Cabbage fields are under water.

If it is not one thing, well, you know the name of that tune...

Here in my shady and somewhat scrubby back yard--home to all manner of wild things-- Mother Nature whipped around and pulled all the dead branches straight out of the oaks. She combed them clean.

I cannot complain, really. She cleaned the tree tops where I cannot normally reach. She pruned up high and come this Spring bright green baby~leaves will burst out in glory against the blue~blue sky.

Mother Nature put us all to work this sunny week~end, cleaning up oak~flotsam and pine~jetsam. Mossy debris of the branchy kind.

Bend and stretch. Bend and stretch. That was me.

But do look! Like a magic carpet set gently down in my own back yard!

Look at what I found! In my back yard. Sitting on my wooden plain~bench, not the fancy one painted with a green sit~down part, but the sand~covered one that sits near the bluff overlooking the wee winding creek. Where I sit to watch these.

Tucked under palmettos where the armadillo live there on my plain~bench sat a fancy~smancy, garnet~hued, silk pillow with ivory thread embroidered with  somecreamyflowers.

On the tippy~top waiting patiently perched a small package wrapped in crinkly tissue paper and tied with red and golden threads.

Carefully, carefully I unwrapped the tender surprise and here is what I found inside--->

I am not saying I found rubies and gold in my back yard sitting on a fancy~smancy, garnet~hued, silk pillow with ivory thread embroidered into somecreamyflowers.

Not rubies and gold but still...

Straight away I knew what must be done.

Mother Nature was testing my heart. No virgin jumping into the volcano to appease the gods down here in Florida. Well, at least not in MY back yard.

No. A different test of sorts. A test of my spirit and good*will.
Would I be generous enough to give away such a glowing treasure?

Here in Florida, where the temperature may be 75 degrees one day and then a few days later drop down and measure in at 18, I have learned the lesson of easy come, easy go.

In my heart I long for black and glossy knee~high boots but Life normally gives me warm and sunny days in amazing abundance. {{ Think how silly I would look at the beach!}} For our short but often moody winter weather I have a closet full of these. My life is satisfying and full.

Truthfully I have glowing treasures all around me and I do so love to share.

So.
Think quickly of your own life.
What makes you  glow warm and sunny even on a cold and dreary January day?
Leave a comment below describing what warms you ruby heart, what puts a golden twinkle in your eye.

Share HERE below and you will be entered into my giveaway for this necklace prize from Mother Nature. {{ I am keeping the pillow as it matches these. }}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My giveaway-- part of  Lisa's One World One Heart initiative--stops February 15th at NOON. Winner MUST play along with the rules by answering my red question above! Be certain I can reach you by email. I will also announce the winner here as soon as I am able. Most-likely I will still be busy eating Valentine candy so do be patient. I am just saying...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i am treating you {{with help from my friends}} to a bit of one-eyed halloween magic

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~~~I am needing all the help I can get over here!~~~

My recipe for one-eyed Halloween fun:

* one mini-me somepinkflowers witch by Susanna Sketchbook
who was inspired over here {{ don't i look fabulous!}},
* crows by Martha Stewart at Michaels yesterday,
* candy corn by Brock at Target last week,
* owl box by Punch Studio at Marshall's last year and
* little magic trees from over here.  {{ i so love a good recipe!}}

And  for an amazing & evocative adventure go here and for another witchy tale pop in over here and for a Haunting Treasure Book sublime go here and for a seasonal taste of Orange do drop in here and so on....

tourist tuesday and my eyes in burano

Last night I flew like the wind with my owls.

Well, they swooped down from the mossy-dripped oaks and zoomed ahead of me while I rode my bike in the gloaming trying to catch up. I never did. I never do.

I am ever~hopeful.

Riding my bike in the evening is one of my all~time most favorite things to do. I guess I am always trying to travel in one way or the other.

In the evening my neighbors are inside eating their supper or getting ready to pop something in the microwave. The news is on. The dog has his bone.

Transition time. Chow~down time.

Outside the front yards are mostly vacant. A scattering of lawn furniture sits here and there rather naked and exposed. Cars are cooling their heels in driveways.

"Why do we drive on the parkway and park on the driveway?"

I will never know.

Sprinklers shoot out water to revive the sun~fried Florida grass.

Even numbered houses water their lawns on Tuesday and Friday; odd ones on Wednesday and Saturday. Or the other way around.

We are all about conservation over here.

God waters on Sunday and Monday in my neighborhood.

In the early evening critters start to hunker down. They curl up, touch noses and rest. They have emptied out their furry pockets for the day. The change sits in a shallow dish upon the chiffonier. Done.

Nocturnal creatures are just putting on their dancing shoes. They have Big Plans.

A night out on the town under the oaks. A trip to the creek for happy hour where it is always 2~for~1.

Some animals overlap a bit and move around together during sunset time. They avoid each other in the silvering light.

As the days turn shorter the raccoons are confused and, possessing no golden pocket~watch, are out waaay too early but do not know it.

I slow my bike down to a creep~a~long. Raccoons and I are surprised to see each other. We apologize in our own fashion by ignoring one another.

"What raccoon?" I think, looking over my shoulder to the right.

"What person?" the raccoon thinks, looking over his shoulder to the left.

We are so polite in my neighborhood. Most of us.

The brown, marsh bunnies are eating up the plants in the doctor's side~yard.

I am not about to turn the nibbling rabbits in to our HOA Board for I would eat these flowers, too, if only I could.

Here today; hare tonight; somepinkflowers gone tomorrow.

A red shouldered hawk scoops up his last lizard~treat of the day. The yellow~eyed anole barely notices as he is still busy swallowing a tasty green tree frog.

Who knows what delicious snack the frog had in his tummy.

The wild things in my neighborhood are big into the Eat or Be Eaten concept.

Me? I am busy looking up. I want food for my eyes.

I want to feast on fading color and fuzzy texture. A blue sky turning purple and pink and gray is my dessert.

I hunger for the sweet morsel of a lingering cool shadow.

Where are my owls? Which tree now?

Why can I not Peter~Pan after them? Move from limb to limb. Leap~frog from tree to tree. Leap, fly and owl~swoop as we go.

I think happy thoughts to beat the band and the best I can do is pedal my bicycle faster and faster still. Trying to catch up.

I am ever~hopeful.

Everywhere I go I look up and up and up.

When I travel I am the same way.

What does the top look like? What is on the roof? How high up can I see?

What is there just out of sight? Why am I not up there, too?

Even place should have a climbable Eiffel Tower. A manageable cathedral dome.

A lighthouse standing tall and proud and open for 24 hour viewing service.

A tree with stable wooden planks leading to the tippy~top.

I want to see up and go up and be up.

Why?

Well, so I can look down. I guess.

Lately I have been having the worse time seeing up close. This has been a spot of bother.

I could not see well enough to sew on one little blue button if my life depended on it. Not that I simply needed glasses to see. Not like that. It was a different type of not seeing properly.

The vision in my left eye was beyond blurry. It was starting to go wavy and wonky in the middle. A bit of a rough patch.

A tea~stained, tear~drop shadow always there.

"Wait one minute, left eye!" I said, "What is this wavy and wonky business?"

My left eye said absolutely nothing. It just sat there all silent and pouty like.

So I took my left eye to The Local Specialist. My right eye went along for the ride.

They are like that. Two peas in a eye~pod.

"Ooops!" said The Local Specialist who sent me to another Kind Doctor.

This Kind Doctor was a retina man who explained it all to me like this:

"somepinkflowers," the Kind Retina Doctor said, talking with expertise and kind understanding, "clearly you have been looking out of this eye for quite sometime. You have plum worn a hole in your retina."

Hole In My Retina! Get Out!

Good Grief!

"Fear not," the Kind Retina Doctor continued on gently, "I can fix it for you but it will take a bit of time."

"OK" I said hopefully, not wishing to own one finely working eye and one seeing with wavy and wonky vision.

"Have a go at it!" I said, faking my bravery as I have been known to do from time to time.

"Have at it, Kind Retina Doctor." I said."My eye is in your hands."

So.

With a head and heart full of clear visions from the past, I am waiting.

I am bidding my time until my turn.

Meanwhile, I am busy looking up every single day.

Every where I go I look up. Up , up , up.

I am practically falling down from looking up so much.

Next week I will have the procedure to fix my eye with a Magic Bubble.

Then I will rest quietly in a darken room where I will look down, down, down for a few weeks. The Magic Bubble in my eye will gently push on the teeny hole at the back of my retina. Gently squashing it flat, pushing it back into place with quiet persistence.

And then my wavy and wonky vision will be all better.

I am ever~hopeful.