1960's

It happens, not quite a decade later but it happens.

Merry Christmas

Coke ads. All day every day.



Kilt and cashmere top

Early Spring Styles

Time to pull out the lightweight jackets and pack up for spring semester! Although the snow will be here a few months, I've been trying on all sorts of outfits for the early spring because I have to pack it all and move the heavy sweaters out of my dorm room closet. I can't say it's a chore I mind too much!








Hats and scarves are great (even if the strapless dress is a little too little for the season)





I'm a fan of the skinny jeans and inside out shirts. Sometimes I feel like I double my wardrobe that way.

Food Pt.1

Ohhh man! Alright, so this is going to be the longest series yet I imagine. I've been cooking up a storm this summer ... what with this part time work stuff. . . really - seldom work. Anyway, it started with the icecream maker (a gift from Cam's employer) and dusting off the old Joy of Cooking cookbook. From there I shot off to the pies and the pastas: lasagna and manicotti, and naturally the bread. Italiano von undred percenta. Ok twenty-five percent, still.

My darling family helped me devour all these dishes without even complaining. I can't wait till my recipe book is full and I'm all practiced up! You know when I was 14 my dream school was any culinary school. *sigh* Stupid RISD.
I am sorry. No more ranting I promise!


Mmm...good ol' "Joy of Cooking."



Smells like fresh strawberries. Just a word of truth here - the first billion batches of icecream failed miserably! But we found a system with the peach and it was absolutely divine. I highly recommend making icecream as much as possible and eating it every day. hah.



ditto.



.

..

...That's the one.



Four Cheese Manicotti, fresh basil, homemade sauce. YUM.





plain old lasagna


Gettin' ready for a slice of pie







Blueberry

New Dress

"I made it myself."

1940-1950

Over the summer I've become increasingly obsessed with the 1940's and 50's. I think the glamour and practicality of the styles are just right for college. (Especially when you need to be up early and still look presentable!)










alright. . . the last one is definitely 60's.

It's late

The following is an excerpt:

I'm trying to find a way to wind down tonight and writing seems like the best bet. My ankles are achey from the long day at the "French Fest" in Cape Vincent last saturday. (12 hours on my feet selling hair pins) Never again!
Anyway, I don't think I'll be able to wind down until I write about the river. Something about the way I thought If I went to the river when things were bad, some sort of guide would rise up out of it and give me a small slip of paper that had directions on it. I would run to my car and throw all the broken glass in; Then, drive home and pray my house was empty. My first command would be to fill a clothes basket with all my belongings - neatly pack the trunk and back seat with everything you need. Fill the front seat with the things you want. I would do it. Just as rehearsed. And the last sight of my house would imprint an outline in my mind's eye, black and white and brown.
But the guide never came with any paper. I never got directions to a place where I could escape. So I brought my slips of paper to the river. I brought the most incriminating letters. And while the sun was sinking I would tear them up slowly and precisely and set them under the surface on the rocks. Ink bleeding, letters dripping, my skin burning in the late afternoon rays. Shifting to find a more comfortable place on the slate. Bruised ankles. Bruised wrists from fooling around and not understanding a way to explain that I love and hate equally.
I needed a friend and some physical reassurance. The cold water was perfect for a hug.
The last time I went down to the river, (I didn't pray) I knew I was never going back. There weren't any closet smokers treading the banks. Except for me. But maybe my memory filled that in accidentally - maybe I was just sitting by my tire. Sobbing at the grasshoppers and flies. Yes, for sure.
I thought I could be free. They told me I was free now, when I was withdrawing. Free from what? Over and over and over. What am I free from? What am I free to do? What is anyone's freedom? The day I jumped in the river was free. But it didn't last.





BOOKS

I would like to begin by offering a word of thanks to my dearest friend, Joyce. Without her I would be many steps behind the joy and peace I now know, and none of these books would be here! ( She taught me. :) )

These books were all made with love and will be continually produced in such a manner.

I love my Joyce

Grass cuddles your poetry

Owls

Morning Tea

Japanese Intuition

Elegance Scattered on the Pavement

"Bend the rod while it is still hot." - Anon

Detonate

A real pile