Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Mind Boggling Indeed

(image via Etsy)

Why is it in times of great distress, it is nearly impossible for some of us to avoid saying something stupid and or inappropriate?!

This week the phrase 'mind-boggling' keeps cropping up at the most inopportune times, along with the saying 'it's not brain surgery.'

Honey, this week it actually IS brain surgery.

Please send spare good thoughts and prayers to the Dame's brother in law, and her amazing sister in this worst-of-all-possible weeks.

(image via Bibliodyssey)

Please see here for more: Recovery Progress

Saturday, February 23, 2008

What's in a name?

I saw her for the first time, about 18 months ago, on Craigslist.

It was the usual kind of ad, but something about her caught my eye. There was no doubt about it, she was the right age. And those curves, my god! On the other hand the poor girl was wearing the most godawful, frumpy colors I'd ever seen. And her fee...well, not something I could afford at the time. So, I moved on, but I didn't forget her.

Then, a few months later I caught a glimpse of her again, again on Craigslist. This time around, she'd been in a professional photo shoot, and her fee had shot up even more. Girl seemed to be putting on some airs, all things considered. Too rich for my blood, but those curves, oh my!

Months went by, the holidays rolled around, and the Dame's employer seemed to be feeling generous; it had been a very good year. Holiday bonus in hand, the Dame started scanning the ads again. And wouldn't you know it, there she was again! The outfit had improved, and the location had changed. The fee had leveled off a bit. So the Dame decided it was time to meet in person.

The Dame never stood a chance against the the curves. A deal was struck, promises were made. Custom couture was was written into the negotiations. Swatches were fetched, and colors discussed. A rendezvous at a certain time and place were agreed to.

Promises were broken, new dates were scheduled, and broken. The flirt kept the Dame waiting for nearly five months, altogether. But that Swedish accent, those curves....

At long last she made it to the Dame's house. The new frock was not as promised, and was a little the worse for wear. Corners were cut in the in the tailoring, some odd steps had been taken. The Swede, for all her dynamite curves, and despite all the new work, was actually a little saggy in the middle. But for a near-septagenarian, really, what could one expect?

Please meet Ingrid....

If one is to believe her story, she is Swedish Art Deco, approximately from the 1940's. Also, if one is to believe the tale her last friend told, he of the poorly finished couture, she was shipped to my fair city with a twin. Hard to believe there could be two of them wandering around, breaking hearts.

What better name to give this curvy Swede, than the name of one of the most elegant women to come out of that era?

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

dots and sunbeams

An intro to the Great Dame's resident Dane, Miss Ophelia....

I was bored out of my mind late one weekend afternoon recently, so I started fiddling with the camera. I was trying to get some decent photos of some of my art deco furniture, so that I could post on the blog. The charming Ophie is never far from my side, so she got in on the act.
So, here we have a study in black and white patches, a red polka dot rug, and golden sunbeams.