Filed under: dithering, shopaholism | Tags: encino man, etsy, homemakerism, vomit
i just spent upwards of two hours browsing through button-cute widdle tchochkes at etsy, my latest only online handmade merch store of choice. yes, it’s sickeningly twee (the cupcake pins and silhouetted raven brooches are affecting my tummy like too many marshmallows). and, yes, it’s like the DIY, organic QVC for the sufjan-listening, nouveau-knitting, pilated wifey . . . but check out these gems amongst the sugar and spice!
print set of mr. and mrs. cardinal, the most endearing fuddy-duddy married couple on the block. this artist has a whole winesburg, ohio collection of animals-as-suburban-stereotypes portraits. i purchased five.
for those chillier nights, a set of wool log pillows. cuddle by the fire, and cuddle with the fire. romantic!
sifting through the bakelite salt and pepper shakers, screen-printed owl aprons and embroidered ephemera makes me wish i had a place of my own to decorate. a place with a breakfast nook, a tea cozy, and a mutt with an adorable crocheted collar. well. here’s a horrible secret: about one third of me wants to be the bougie but environmentally-conscious homebody of the 21st C, vegan macaroons and hollyhocked tea towel at the ready. ick! my dream, exposed!
well, the fantasy won’t come to fruition any time soon. for one, i’m remarkably incompetent in domestic activities. i can clumsily hem a skirt, but those chanterelles will simply have to saute themselves. june cleaver i am not. and i’ll never have the dough for this etsy lifestyle; i’m stuck with salvation army’s polyester linens, blood stains and all. and, finally: i’ll be living the ol’ itinerant life for at least 12 more months. possibly 12 more years. what’s german for “100% soy ink”?
now i have a date to watch encino man, in belated honor of my la brea tar pits bday trip. oh, yeah, btw, i just came back from los angeles; more on that to come.
