tinywoolf: October 2010

a try at zen on saturday

how unearthing to just have the one wine glass, the one coffee mug, the one water glass, instead of a cupboard full of crockery.

how surprising, an unexpected cushion corner, because of selecting stuff.

how inviting, the very last time in my bed in the leaving place, on the floor for the occasion. the mattress shamelessly unmade.

how appetizing, the last few pieces of freshly baked savoury pastry (atlantic herring & dolmades rice, if you wonder), and one mandarin.

how sparkly~spark, an ice cold glass of champers, or rather, a leftover. yes. in the one wine glass. oh well.

don't know why exactly, but the song didn't half caught my eye, my ear. also in (500) days of summer. a little divertissement in between labeling moving boxes, the last 48 hours in the leaving place and an industrial building dryer blowing hot air into the attic of the new, old house. to move things along, yo. to get the place dry before long. it is all becoming a little surreal, which is not necessarily a bad thing.

corner view ≈ pondering, or lucky {renov # 9}

{previously}

fragile. pacing. happily anticipating. awaiting the arrival of experts. fretting. lying awake at night. pondering.

choosing my builders wasn’t an easy task. i pulled on my intuition so hard, my body feels right slack. but since i was able to converse with every single one of them, and since every single builder was prepared to listen…. i feel so lucky! slowly my pondering subsided.

i have never done a renovation before, i guess i shall never do another one. no more! i’ve been feeling out of sorts too often, but as we’re nearing the moment of finalisation (of the basic building process only), i dare to look back and be contented.

i didn’t know what to expect, i played the ostrich just a few times, but apart from that? there’s been convo, agreeing, disagreeing, happiness, disrupt and consolation. and that makes me feel so lucky.

builders are passionate. they know what to go for, and they’re doing it. they are making dreams come true, and mainly they do it while keeping that spirit up. thanks to them, i have learnt so much. how to be patient. how to turn disbelief into empathy. they took me from surprise to joy. and all that, more often than not, accompanied by a jolly good laugh.
this is a post, especially for my soft, sweet, steel iron builders. with a willing heart in place, they make for so much less pondering...
now more pondering over at ... hm.... juniper / ötli / ian / theresa?

tsuris*

* = trouble ☻
ha, that ol' devil called the meaning of life! i'm not in for what i'm getting as i start the dvd, because as per usual, i do not read the summary. a coen brothers production doens't need much introduction anyway. [for once, i did dive into the dvd extra's, just to get some twists clarified. i can honestly state i can see clearly now.]

i haven't got a clue why, but i always have been intrigued by the hebrew way of life [bar the religious connotation]. i found myself on a synagogue tour in london once (that could have been sheer inattention on my behalf), and i clearly remember a jewish friend's wit, in her approach on things, herself and life, when first bumping into her and her operatic voice on a night train through danish landscape. later in life i chuckled no end and for various reasons, when introducing my younger self to THE NANNY.

besides the kosher humour, here now we find ourselves in the exciting year of 1967, which is a blessing in itself for all that vintage interior deco.... oi! both directors, themselves originating from the midwest where the movie is set, use childhood memories to build a few strong storylines, a foggy bar mitzhva event and a serious midlife crisis for the main character but being two topics. there is so much going on, on different levels, the film makes for an interesting documentary, besides a really good movie.
i remember watching BURN AFTER READING twice straight, for the humour and the twists so cracked me up. A SERIOUS MAN does hold a more complex message (or does it?) : life is a mystery! ...
[... and coen brothers make outstanding cinema.]

flea market find of the year

a vintage madonna

"even though i have put on glasses on my vintage head, i shall give this flea-market-find-of-the-year a miss, if you don't mind. time is very much against me at the moment, image archives are doomed for various reasons, and well, who am i to judge? i am wishing you all a good game!" browsing going on, as ever on herlibraryadventures.

corner view ≈ holiday snap

victoria

if the girl can't make it to london, then london needs to make it to the girl, right? i wanted to post something else, something long-be-gone, something sexy even, if i say so myself. when i turned thirteen i got my very first natural bronze. that happened in summery spain, in a village called nules. la vagabonde knows of the place, young as she is. her spark helped me to smell that cow's leather from el corte inglés again, the fat olives in monstrous glass containers, the drying meats on stripy market stalls, mucky sun tan oils sold in the tiny, local mercado.

stationery shop window in greenwich

snap back to reality and alas! the picture i wanted to show you of 13-year-old-me, grinning about in the surf and spitting on sand, sits in a moving box, and the adult me cannot reach for her at this very instant. what to do?

what would my dream destination be, which place always pops to mind, when the words 'holidays' and 'snap' are being mentioned?

♥ london! ♥

double deck bus into hackney

it's the perfect excuse for me to rummage about in my london archives, and show off a little. [just a tiny little - you'll find a helpful link to your right!]

original EASTENDERS set in hackney - fasett square

and by the way, i am looking forward to seeing your holiday snaps, so i rush over to .... ian's, and theresa's, and ötli's,... ?
oh joy! for we can dream, before our ...

tube sign - russell square

i can't help myself

as i'm browsing the textiles department of the local thrift shop, to cool down a bit from renovating and preparing to move (labeling boxes* for a safe journey to wherever), i am not in the least prepared for the above find. okay, i occasionally come across a gobelin that makes my heart beat faster, but here now i am caught unawares of the treasures oozing out of a frank plastic box on floor 1. bell will simply go mad, for there are not a few tableaus, but simply tens. and tens! so many, in fact, i can unashamedly do away with the naff dog heads, and the kitch horses cutting through the surf. i settle for some seven scenes varying in colour, size and inkling. unmounted they come as well, so all they need is a spin in the washer, and.... now, what box did i wrap my beloved sewing machine in?

[*the new, old house not being in the least finished nor basically comfortable, i have to send off boxes and furniture to different corners of my small world. i will only just be writing, and hopefully making a few pictures, next couple of months. my studio will be running from late spring time off. keep those battered fingers crossed. ☻] more vintage treasures on herlibraryadventures.

femme

do you remember x-files fbi agent gillian anderson's unexpected and acclaimed appearance in the period drama THE HOUSE OF MIRTH, that sharp observation of higher society against personal desires, set in the late nineteenth century in the united states? she plays the part of lily bart, a woman who's torn between her love for a white no gooder and a wealthy fellow whom she despises. i fully remember her unconventional behaviour in that time setting as none too different to specific social conduct in western societies today. ofcourse, i fell for the character of lily. in life, i have chosen individuality above economy myself. i have paid a price for that.

this week again, taken by surprise, by WASHINGTON SQUARE, in which jennifer jason leigh's character of excentric catherine sloper stupefies me. a little overdramatic at times, understandably wicked : the relationship between a stubborn and wealthy father, and his mindset daughter. love can but rule when all the boxes are ticked off (well, depending on the boxes...). both stories were based on powerful books by edith wharton and henry james, coincidentially 'society writers', both having been subject to ami(c)able social backgrounds, observing their own kind and lesser. and recounting those impressions, in a rather realistic way. it's food for thought no less, even if the stories feel a little eerie, cut off from the real world outside, peculiar even.

subsequently such stories make me wonder about the position of women in society today, as opposed to a century, two centuries ago. and have (feminist) standards in modern societies improved at all? not in the least wanting to proclaim a manifesto (i'm too a-political for that), there's a whole lot of sentiment going on when confronted with such themes. woolf fought her battle, as did her sister vanessa bell (have to honour the woolfenbell spirit, no? ☻). so many unnamed women before us though, grafting their way through an agreeable enough life, trying to raise a voice. ripples in the water, or milestones? and all those after us?

corner view ≈ natural green

fortunately looking for green in nature is easy peasy. green is refreshing, and cool, and reassuring. i've walked the streets and alleys, the pastures and meadows of my hometown numerous times, and i don't tire of them, and i don't tire of green. when i walk, green walks with me. imagine how green green can be ...

dramatic

enigmatic

spiky

vibrant

rusty

musty

mysterious (have you noticed, there, near the tree trunks?)

and sometimes plain watery blue

now move over to otli's for all the natural green you can muster.

do mention it {renov # 8}

{previously}

i hacked away at old plaster all morning. i’d arrived just after eight and greeted the builders who were running to and thro’ in a pleasurable enough manner. one of them silently handed me a proper flat bladed stone chisel, that proofed to be a far greater help to my predicament. after a morning of labour and a throat full of grit, and as i was peeling a satsuma in the dim shadow of the garden shed, i looked at our new, old house from the back and memories flooded in. you see, this is an old neighbourhood son and i are moving back into.

to the far left is the mansion (a little obliterated by the glaring sun). i remember charlotte, who was always up for a chat. the very spring son was born, i sat in our back garden that joined charlotte’s, and as i was snoozing over the whir of the neighbour's lawn mower, i still managed to read COMO AGUA PARA CHOCOLATE. while son laid snoring in his cot, i was adamant my life was going to add up to something. don’t get me wrong. my life has, only not to what i envisaged over ESQUIVEL’s novel. [if anything, the cooking happened!☻]

the house next to mine is lived in by danika after deedee and donald, & old sebastian lived there. she’s new to the neighbourhood, she’s still settling in. moving on to the other side of our modest dwelling i feel i need to point out hitler&braun, not mentioning the war. it’s a zone, alright. but we're getting somewhere, i'm sure. the house i used to live in with son and his father lies two houses down our door, and is an exact replica of our own place. how’s that for uncannyness? dad and i converse daily over the fence. we do bbq’s in season, and we hold dear memories, never mind our changed circumstances. somehow, these simple things in life deserve mentioning.

[real names in this little tell tale have been altered. my son is my son though.☻]

down below is me, playing ennio (morricone).

silhouette dancing

"aujourd’hui c’est le bal des gens bien.

"demoiselles, que vous êtes jolies !
"pas question de penser aux folies ;

"les folies sont affaires de vauriens"
(song by adamo, popular belgian singer in the sixties & seventies)

today is the ball for all good people
young lady, how pretty art thou!
we won’t think up any follies today
for follies are but loser’s rounds
(loose translation of the above)

[gobelin from the eighties, bought at the flea market this morning. to be cut up in the near future. thus, to be continued. go peep at herlibraryadventures for more]

corner view ≈ orange

just a thought that sprang to mind after viewing this, which left me a little heart broken, in a good way. okay, it left me heart broken, in a big way. also, orange can be hard too, or smart... here’s a little twirl-me-round-the-dance-floor from the nineties. and belgian! [not too good a recording though. sorry!]. do go check out all the oranges over on otli's?

offaly big adventure*

part 1 to first episod

at last ! chef gets a proper spotlight. do you sometimes have the feeling that all those celebrity chefs-on-tv are a little ott? nigella just got herself a new series. the way she mashes a leftover pecan-cheesecake after hours, after having sprinkled a handful of nuts on top… it feels like proper greed. and is greed what celebrities brings to tv? and do i want to watch greed?

roland (alan davies aka JONATHAN CREEK) impersonates one such big mouth ~ wild eyed chef who’s probably sticking his oar in anywhere else his brain or muscle ought to be. it makes for grandiose docu comedy though. you can watch part 2 to the first episod here, if you’re hungry…. ☻

oh, and in case you’re wondering. offal is just what this said chef is writing about in his memoirs. long time no hear. actually since adrian mole, remember him and his trail on offal? british humor. you got to hand it to them.

* as said on tv- bbc

from rags to riches

i wish i had made the ice cream myself. but since the ice cream maker has been wrapped up in a storage box, i storebought half a litre of ice cold pecan~caramel softness, and ladled me some from there.

at least i got to use my new vintage ice cream scoop (above) i am practically in love with. although the old sylvester (below) does still give me a thrill as well.

i hope you are all having at least one scoop today! and bon appétit. more vintage here.

oddities, odds and ends

this is how it goes. you're well into a crochet project and run out of yarn. when this happens i marvel, 'cause it leaves me with the perfect excuse to mix and match. buying my yarn vintage only, it is a little treat i bump into every so often. mostly people don't notice the oddity either. let's give it a try.
ofcourse it's obvious here where i ran out