So many deadlines - hats to block, dolls to sew, papers to shuffle and re-shuffle. It's during these times that I take a little break and pick-up something completely different. I've been thinking of taking a shoemaking class, but not before I complete my millinery courses. For now, I'll have to make do with making paper pairs. This book will show you how.
It would be one thing if I proceeded to swim a medley of freestyle, backstroke, breast stroke, and butterfly. But I'm in the pool a lot because I'm in love with this class where we do aerobic kicks and drills in the water (ala that Bill Murray pool scene in Lost in Translation). My favorite part is where we use those noodles to stay afloat while pretending to be seahorses. Cool, right? Don't knock it until you've tried it.
So, I don't think the LZR Racer that Speedo and Rei Kawakubo designed for the '08 U.S. Olympic swim team will be appropriate. I like the non-olympic styles - I can envision a seahorse wearing these (especially that first collection). Alas, still not available in the states!
Time is just going by so fast! Images from the Spring and Summer 2009 haute-couture collections shook me out of the lassitude that has been, so far, characteristic of my Summer 2008. Shake! Shake! There's work to do!!!
Aren't these hats from Dior just beautiful? And I'm one to avoid the animal prints.
For two months now I've been listening to K.D. Lang's Watershed. I can't even begin to describe the little flutter within me when I hear the opening strings of Coming Home. The magic of music, right?
Well, just a few minutes ago I received a phone call from D with the wonderful news that she's coming home! Magic! Flutter! My dearest friend, I am so happy for you! Yay!
I couldn't help myself, this is too perfect.
Coming Home {Lang/Pitch}
oh sweet sorrow let's write the book tomorrow
for I caught a glimpse been obsessed with it ever since
my eyes no longer weak amongst the clarity that you pronounce in me
won you have won my illumination has begun
I'm happily indifferent to the ones who have consistently been wrong and all that once confined us like minutiae at its finest now is gone
oh sweet sorrow let's write the book tomorrow
my eyes no longer weak amongst the clarity that you pronounce in me I'm happily indifferent to the ones who have consistently been wrong and all that once confined us like minutiae at its finest now is gone
and all that lies before me like the asphalt lures me forward towards home