times they are a-changing

I did it. I made the switch. So far, so good.

New blog location: http://tomorrowsdust.blogspot.com/

Holding on to the weekend…

Oh Monday, thanks for ruining my weekend. In light of this unfortunate event, I will focus on the happy things.

Happy #1
My family. They all came to visit this past weekend for Easter and it was wonderful. They are amazing, and I love them.

Happy #2
The Starbucks coffee I’m drinking to wake me up…White Chocolate Mocha misto=perfect.

Happy #3
My boyfriend. He’s pretty great and he spent his whole weekend with me entertaining the fam=winner/keeper.

Happy #4
My job. Particularly in this economy, I’m truly thankful to be employed and work with such wonderful people.

Happy #5
George. My goofy little (really big, actually) boxer. He peed inside last night so Jeff wasn’t too happy with him, but he’s just such a cutie!

Happy #6
The creative outlet that is this blog, I’ve really grown fond of this, even though I’ve only just begun. And the people here are lovely and encouraging, which helps in life.

Happy #7
April!! My brother’s birthday is this weekend and my birthday is two days later…I love good celebrations.

Fridays are holidays

Happy Weekend!! I can’t wait to sleep in, soak up the beautiful weather and fit in some long overdue family time.

(just have lots of fun!)

…update: I’ve already had too much easter candy.

Something special

How cute is this? I love this little touch of something special to gifting some red wine…

Wine recommendation: Crios! (particularly the torrontes for spring/summer)

It is such a great, reliable brand of wine from Mendoza, Argentina. My boyfriend and I went to Mendoza almost a year ago, and the wine is incredible, we’re partial.

April is here and thus begins birthday month! My birthday (most importantly), my brother’s birthday (the big 2-1) and then two of my friends’ birthdays. It will be a rather eventful month, and I’m ready for it after enduring this dreary winter.

lagony

…although sometimes it seems easier. Or maybe I just don’t know how to love. There needs to be a secret, a secret that everyone is in on where all of the sudden love is illuminated and it becomes like the movies. That would be nice.  But it isn’t always like the movies and sometimes it’s agonizing, well, maybe it isn’t love that is agonizing, but the absence of love, or when I begin to doubt (myself). I don’t know what I’m doing.

trays, trays, trays

Trays are my new obsession and I have been convinced they are a necessity, so elegant. I’ve decided on two. One will be in the bathroom for either makeup or jewelry (still undecided) and a larger tray for the bar. Ideally, I would have a little bar cart to store liquor, glass, mixers, etc., and then the tray would grace the top, displaying the liquor. It would be a cute little entertaining corner, we shall see.

and that’s just lovely

Monday. Everyday I get to my office, pour myself some coffee, and then just stare at the computer screen while I collect my thoughts for the day. On Monday, this process takes longer.

On another note, I love Carla Bruni. Ever since a friend gave me her CD in high school it has been love. She’s artsy class with that impeccable French style.

just you

Over a year ago Jeff and I got in an argument.

At one point I didn’t know why we were fighting.

And so I simply asked him, “What do you want from me?”

He responded, “I just want you.”

And it was the sweetest thing.

lost significance

What sort of diary should I like mine to be? Something loose-knit and yet not slovenly, so elastic that it will embrace anything, solemn, slight or beautiful, that comes into my mind. I should like it to resemble some deep old desk or capacious hold-all, in which one flings a mass of odds and ends without looking them through. I should like to come back, after a year or two, and find that the collection had sorted itself and refined itself and coalesced, as such deposits so mysteriously do, into a mould, transparent enough to reflect the light of our life, and yet steady, tranquil compounds with the aloofness of a work of art. The main requisite, I think, on reading my old volumes, is not to play the part of a censor, but to write as the mood comes or of anything whatever; since I was curious to find how I went for things put in haphazard, and found the significance to lie where I never saw it at the time.

V. Woolf

to know