3-8-10

Some days start a little later than others, and it can feel like you’re already behind the curve. Don’t let that convince you to toss the day away. You can make an impact on someone or something in a single moment, a split-second.

It isn’t more time we need, but more clarity.

I’ve never been interviewed before, for anything, so I was blown away when Jenn over at The Style Geek approached me to request an interview regarding this new entrepreneurial endeavor. Of course I jumped at the opportunity. Check out what I said! And while you’re over there, poke around a bit. Jenn’s great and has an awesome, carefree and refreshing take on accessible fashion.

Also, I must let you know I just added two new earring designs to my Noted Design inventory. Swing by the shop if you’re curious to see them.

Yes, I know, I’m a tease. That’s why you love me, right?

Within the last week, three fabulous, inspiring and authentically lovely bloggers have bestowed blogging awards on yours truly. I am humbled. I am also giggly and blushing. Thank you to Dian, Alana and Bonnie. Knowing you has opened my world and brought me such joy. And thank you to every single reader who has ever landed here at Pleasure Notes. Your presence keeps me showing up to the page; you are invaluable.

Because I’m a bit overwhelmed by all the badge love, it may take me a minute to pay it all forward. It’s delightful to see some of the same names on all the lists in which I was included. I wish I could re-award them all as I proceed. Somehow, I’ve fallen into an incredibly powerful circle of people who are unafraid to speak from the heart and reveal all their colors. I hope, as I complete my own obligation to the award rules, that I can expand the circle and can show at least a few of the rock stars I follow how much I adore them.

In the meantime, however, I’m going to try to convince Harry Winston to let me borrow a few baubles. A three-time nominee certainly deserves her bling, n’est pas?

Doesn’t it just make you want to go find a warehouse, some paint cans and pulleys?

by Jenny Zarins for Toast

In fact, I barely got four pages into the Spring 2010 catalogue of clothing before I salivating and dreaming of escaping to some Mediterranean hideaway with a shoulder bag packed with choice pieces of linen, a good book and a feather.

by Jenny Zarins for Toast

I have no idea why I had the impulse to pack a feather, but that is how inspiring this catalogue is to me! Check both the Spring Line and House & Home catalogues for yourself, and let me know what you think.

by Jenny Zarins for Toast

The photographs are by Jenny Zarins, the wardrobe styling is by Lesly Dilcock and Gaelle Paul, and the design and art direction is by Lesley Dilcock. I think I’d like to have them all over for tea.

Is there any particular catalogue you’ve received, unexpectedly or not, that transported you someplace delightful?

Having spent my entire adulthood living hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away from my family, the days and nights when I am with them hold particular significance. Getting to watch the little girl who slays my heart every single day from morning til night for numerous days in succession is a rare privilege. Slipping into leisurely and spontaneous conversations with my sister-in-law over piles of clean laundry is just as special. Watching the ground-shaking joy that lit up my niece’s face and enveloped all of us when my brother arrived home last night is a memory I will treasure.

My heart expands. My throat tightens. It is love.

I’ve always been fiercely independent, perhaps too much so. Only recently have I realized been struck dumb by the awareness of how very much I miss the unique community that family provides. The tight, protective hug I receive from my brother. The giggle shared with my sister-in-law. The cuddles and stern instructions given to me by my niece. I want these things in my life more than once every year or so.

I miss my family. Terribly. Now I must act on that awareness.

What is your view of family – the one you grew up with rather than the one with whom you share a home? Is your engagement with your family what you wish it to be? How would you change it? And what about it do you value?

"Red Tulips" by Kate Moriarty

Kate Moriarty is an L.A.-based artist who captures misty dreamscapes with pastels and suede. Strange, but true. And amazingly beautiful.

"London Bridges" by Kate Moriarty

Don’t you just love when an artist surprises you into seeing something in a completely different light?

"Fade Away" by Kate Moriarty

I’ll never look at suede the same way again. Velvet, on the other hand, may indeed still remain associated with awful renditions of The King, and ’80s prom dresses. But, dare I say it, velvet gets the better song. I am far more likely to dance manically through my house to Black Velvet than to Blue Suede Shoes any day.

Now, do you have a preference for suede or velvet?

NotedDesign at Etsy.com

If you feel like moseying on over there, it’ll be like giving me a great big ole smooch and, really, haven’t you been wondering what that would be like? I’m sure it’s been keeping you up at night.

I’m selling handmade jewelry using semiprecious stones and beads and silver and gold and anything else I think is pretty. I’m also doing some hand stamping. I’d love to know what you think of it all!

I’ve only hinted about my intentions to open up the shop a few times, and put it on my list. Why haven’t I regaled you with tales of every step I took to get here? Because I was doubting that I’d actually accomplish the task. I’ve been creating jewelry forever, it seems, and I’ve wanted an Etsy presence since I discovered the site years ago, but fear and doubt have always kept me solidly anchored in inaction. UNTIL NOW.

I have you, my lovely dear readers, and this blog to thank for providing the kick in the butt necessary to see this particular dream become a reality. THANK YOU!

Now, let’s take another moment to let it soak in… I have an Etsy shop, folks. KICK ASS AWESOMENESS, I tell you! Makes me feel like anything is possible. Now if only I could figure out how to bottle that feeling, I’d be golden. But, hey, clearly stranger things have happened…

xo

3-01-10

A new month, a new week, a new day. What other new things can you attract within the next twenty-four hours? Make it a game, if you wish, and let me know what you discover!

by Pregnancy Education/flickr

Perhaps there is a man out there who will someday sweep me off my feet, or whose feet I will knock out from under him. Perhaps not. The likelihood that, if it happens, it will occur before my uterus retires for this lifetime is slim. I do not have the financial means nor heart’s desire to get pregnant on my own. Therefore, there is an extremely high probability that I will not have children of my own. It’s an incredibly uncomfortable reality to examine. I don’t want any more grief. I’m not sure what my feelings should be about it. I have NO CLUE what they actually are.

I’ve always been clear that I would never want to duplicate the same mistakes my parents made while raising me. There is much about family life, as I’ve perceived it, that isn’t worth repeating or perpetuating. I’m definitely not confident that I would be anything more than a complete, derelict, basket case of a mother. Note: That is not a reflection of my own mother, I swear.

On the other hand, I adore children and they tend to adore me. At least until they hit those terrible twos. Then, they become mean, vindictive little monsters and inflict mortal wounds upon my psyche with alarming accuracy and ease.

I’ve also always thought that the physical and emotional experience of pregnancy is such an integral part of being female that foregoing it makes me something less than a complete woman. I want to know what it feels like to create life. Without the extra hair growth, stretch marks, nausea, increased hormonal imbalance, and potential for torn bits, of course.

Most of my friends have at least one child. My sister-in-law is pregnant with her second. Being of a certain age and not having children makes me OTHER THAN. I’m excluded from the club. And yes, there is a club. Anyone who thinks otherwise is either still so young as to be annoyingly idealistic or so deeply entrenched in parentdom as to be oblivious to the prevalence of a specific social paradigm to which women are supposed to adhere.

I wouldn’t mind this if I overtly wished to make some contrarian statement with my childless or child-free state. I don’t. I tend to like a lot of the folks who are card-carrying members of the Parent Class. Yet somehow I’ve ended up on the wrong side of the tracks.

I know many women who have lost a child, whether by miscarriage or other tragic life events. I simply can’t comprehend such pain. I have absolutely no wish to know it. And how does it compare to that of knowing you’ll never have that which someone else had but then lost? I’m too chicken to want to find out.

If fact, any condition that involves FEELINGS tends to give me the heebie-jeebies. This is somewhat problematic since my emotions have always had more influence on my actions than my mind. In order to survive this conundrum, I dart about the edges of life, rarely engaging completely and shying away from anything or anyone that might potentially carry the scent of COMMITMENT, of any kind.

Parenting is the ultimate commitment.

By exhibiting what some might consider subconscious, passive-aggressive behavior, I’ve steered clear of it. Now I find myself on an entirely different road, with no visible exits. And I’m consumed with thoughts of what the view might be like in that other direction. I feel like someone else took over the controls of my life. I didn’t actively CHOOSE to be where I am.

It’s crazy-making.

Then, of course, there’s the little issue of my secret ponderings. I wonder if maybe it’s not too late. I consider the dangers of relinquishing this amorphous dream, which I’ve never fully embraced, of having a child by someone with whom I want to create and share the magic of life. If I accept it will never materialize, am I killing the possibility that it might?

This, too, is crazy-making.

The only solution I’ve discovered for quieting my brain about this issue while avoiding as many feelings as possible is to create other life questions over which I can go mad…

Why is my left boob sagging to a disproportionately greater degree than my right?

How will I pay my bills in ten years? Should I have walked away from that guy in 1992?

Am I the only person who is intimidated by the Foreman’s Grill?

Why are dust bunnies and mildew trying to take over my home?

Just think, I spend hours caught up with these questions. What if I had A KID in this condition? I just saw you shudder!

Yes, sarcasm and humor make relinquishing a dream slightly more palatable, but it still kinda blows chunks. One more think I don’t think I could handle? A puking kid. But then again, I do clean up after my cat.

So, at the moment, I exist in a bitter-sweet purgatory of inaction. The dream drifts away while I’m still trying to decipher it. Perhaps, I simply need to wake up and focus on the concrete moments of pleasure in my day rather the hanging out with the Oneiroi…

Have you ever relinquished a dream? Have you ever held on to one despite yourself? have you ever felt like an accidental rebel without a cause?