What the Dalai Lama Wants for His Birthday

Busy...

Spent the day working on spreadsheets. Just shoot me.

Source: kenhatter.tumblr.com via LB Palmer/shopquotidienne on Pinterest

Staying cool by drinking iced tea with fresh mint and raspberry honey.

Watching dvds of the series Justified, and we are all addicted. On Season 2 now. All I can say is Margo Martindale is one terrific actress.

The dishwasher is on a rapid decline, so the Obscure household is experiencing the delights of handwashing dishes.  It's not so bad, gives my brain a nice break, so I'm not complaining. Really, I'm not.

Sale at the shop!

I've been working hard on this Look Book (featuring local artist Lisa K. Alan; take a peek if you haven't seen it already! You can click on any photo for more information) and there's a sale at the shop to celebrate.

Yesterday

was the fifth anniversary of my husband's death.

Here is the poem I read at his memorial service, by Gregory Orr, from Concerning the Book that is the Body of the Beloved:

If death, then grief, right?
Well, yes, but also
Relief, release. And love
That goes past death, that
Keeps the connection
So many think death severs.

And then, of course, there's joy,
Because what we're after
Is the fact of resurrection—
That's what the heart longs for
The poem accomplishes:
Praise that lifts up the body
Of the beloved. That wasn't
A grave, only a door that closed
And is now open, opening onto a poem.

"Death to Bullshit"

from Creative Mornings.

Weekend

Down with a cold/flu/something like that, so I'm distracting myself this weekend between naps and cups of hot tea.

Free shipping at the shop!

Robert Earl Keen and Lyle Lovett performing together (finally). Two of my favorites from my Austin Days.

Just re-watched In the Loop (2009), still funny as hell. I couldn't stop laughing. Don't watch this if you don't enjoy creative obscenities.





Currently reading:

RIP, Ray Harryhausen

Best special-effects guy ever. Images from Sunset Gunshots.

The Skeleton Army from Jason and the Argonauts. Still the scariest, and still my favorite.

Yo Mama Compliments

Just squeaked it in there... Happy Mother's Day!

Coverflip

Yesterday, author Maureen Johnson proposed an experiment on twitter: take your favorite novel and image what the cover might look like if it was written by someone of the opposite sex, or who was genderqueer. The results are hilarious and telling. I'm pretty sure my favorite is for Lord of the Flies.

The original:

Written by "Willa Golding":

Johnson explains:

And the simple fact of the matter is, if you are a female author, you are much more likely to get the package that suggests the book is of a lower perceived quality. Because it’s “girly,” which is somehow inherently different and easier on the palate. A man and a woman can write books about the same subject matter, at the same level of quality, and that woman is simple more likely to get the soft-sell cover with the warm glow and the feeling of smooth jazz blowing off of it.

The French Jeweler's Smock

Going back to my post in December about the book Cheap Chic, I mentioned that I found a French Jeweler's Smock on my first-ever trip to Paris (1983; I was living in Northern Italy at the time). It was made of unbleached linen, about knee-length with long full sleeves and open sides. I found one photo of me in said smock, which I usually wore that winter with a long full black skirt and cotton turtleneck underneath, and a pair of cheap suede ankle boots purchased at an Italian chain store I want to call Basta (but I don't think that's right). In this picture I'm also wearing it with a fair isle sweater vest and cotton scarf I got at a Paris flea market. (The weather was very chilly and damp that winter. We lived in an apartment built in the 1500s, no central heating, no phone, no laundry facilities.)

1983

The baby's not mine. I babysat for some friends in exchange for use of their washer and dryer. The bag at the left was a splurge at a local boutique: a raw leather backpack I carried everywhere.

I don't remember what happened to the smock, for which I now give myself a big dope slap every time I think of it. It disappeared in one of my subsequent (frequent) moves.

This is the closest thing I have been able to find, from an artist's supply in Great Britain:

Not the same, though. Mine had no buttons, it just slipped over the head and had a bateau-type neckline with small pleats.