A super pretty home

Every now and then, I think that I might like the idea of colourful interiors, but at the end of the day, I am always drawn back to whites and neutrals.  My inspiration folder is very consistent in that regard ;)  Anyway, browsing through Living etc, I fell ridiculously in love with Lyn Gardner's Melbourne home, which is situated in a converted mattress factory.  So light and airy and pretty and feminine ... me likey!  Me also likey the "kiss me" on the wall of the main bedroom - very cute.  So cute, in fact, that I might have to steal the idea.  And how lovely is the claw foot bath in the bedroom?  It looks like a beautiful space to relax.  What does relaxation feel like again?  I can't remember *sob*

You can read the whole article here!

~ all images: Living etc ~

(Not) fabulous advice

I read an article* in Madison magazine today that made me cranky.  The cover headline queried: Can You Make a Man Marry You?  The Controversial Book That Says You Can.  Mystified as to how this could in fact be the case, and why on earth anyone would want to marry a man in circumstances where the sentiment is not quite reciprocated, I flipped through the magazine until I hit the ever-helpful (a-hem) "relationships" section.  Upon reading, I was relieved to see that the author of the article was pretty much taking the piss out a ridiculous book entitled How to Marry the Man of Your Choice by Margaret Kent, but also grew increasingly dumbfounded and horrified at the advice contained therein.

Par exemple, Kent recommends the following insanity as a surefire way of nabbing the man of your dreams and manipulating him down the aisle ...

1. allow your victim to talk solely about himself for at least the first few dates.  Don't say anything beyond "how fascinating!" or "please tell me more!" lest he think that you are capable of independent thought.  This is because all men love nothing more than crapping on about themselves without interruption.  Apparently;
   
   
   
   
2. once the man has gabbed on until the cows come home, it's time to cut him down to size with regular, sharp insults.  Kent proffers these wonderful examples: "Ben, you're a little short but very darling.  I imagine you sometimes wished you were taller."  "You may be a professional, but you surely don't speak like one."  "Wouldn't [your friends] like to know how little money you really made last month?"  Or "Tom, your penis is so tiny.  I imagine you wish it wasn't mistaken for a peanut."  Ok so I made that last one up.  Crazily, your insults will provide an opportunity for the poor sod to vent or, alternatively, proudly explain how he has overcome his inadequacies ("well, I started comparing myself to a pine nut and realised things aren't so bad after all") and, of course, redress the perceived power imbalance created by the idiocy of suggestion (1).  Apparently men want to be criticised!  In fact, Kent's husband loves it (he is probably too scared to say anything to the contrary).   Good Lord;
   
   
   
   
3. then, once the man feels sufficiently like shit, you make him feel good again through a "classic punishment/reward system."  The poor bastard must remain in this constant state of flux if he is to ever want to marry you; oh, and
   
   
   
   
4. never expect a man to use condoms!!!  Uh yeah, okay.

The article then cites a fabulous example of some American woman who "fabricated having another man vying for her hand in marriage in order to trick her real suitor into proposing."  Oh, awesome.  What's next?  Faking pregnancy?

So, needless to say, the whole thing pissed me off.  Why on earth would you treat someone you liked that way on purpose?  And imagine if that sort of advice was being peddled to men as a means of snaring a woman?  Treat her like crap - insult her frequently!  Be nice occasionally, and then switch right back.  Talk about an insane double standard.  Plus I daresay that it's practically tantamount to emotional abuse.  Having had the misfortune of dating a guy whose sole aim in life appeared to be doling out put-downs until I reached the dizzying heights of Insecurity Riddled Basketcase, I can tell you that it's a terrible feeling, and I cannot imagine how deliberately subjecting someone to that kind of treatment can be advocated on any basis, let alone as a foundation for marriage.  I am by no means an expert, but the entire exercise just reeks of Bad Idea.  I'm pretty sure that Be Yourself & Be Nice is a much better approach.  Then again, I haven't written a book of which there are a million copies in print ...

* Catch Me If You Can by Alexandra Carlton


PS.  Admittedly I haven't read the book.  It may indeed be full of fabulous advice.  But I must say that I am Highly Dubious.


PPS. Blogger formatting hates me.

The floral equivalent of a pretty, foufy dress ...

The kindness of strangers

I've been having a pretty ratty time lately (um, there is kind of some wierd pigeon menage a trois going on outside the window?!  Good grief), but for whatever reason, perfect strangers have been very nice to me (except for the guy who failed to observe a give way sign yesterday afternoon and very nearly smashed into my new little red car ... and the woman who almost reversed into said little red vehicle in the car park today, but hey at least I got to try to the horn out, lol) and it's amazing how a few nice words from someone you don't even know can make you feel infinitely better (the pigeons are still at it, by the way).

Earlier this week I had to work late so I was lazy and stopped to order a takeaway pizza on my way home.  While I was checking out the menu, the pizza cafe owner man came racing out and began to fawn over my outfit with a level of enthusiasm that I thought could never be exhibited by a straight man, but then he said "my wife would love an outfit like that for Christmas, where did you get it?" and grabbed an order pad to write the details down.  Aw.  And even though I was tired, hungry and frustrated, he made me all smiley and happy and I forgot how crap I was feeling.  Similarly, today I was buying some peonies (after repeatedly walking past the florist and agonising over whether I could justify spending eighteen bucks on five blooms, but I kept thinking of the photographic possibilities and in the end they were too pretty to resist, so I caved in) and the florist lady asked me what I was up to, and was I going out today?  I said nope, just buying the groceries and she said "well you look really nice in that dress" and cheered me up no end.  And I thought, I am often too shy to pay compliments to people but really, it's such a small thing and if I can make someone feel even momentarily good (or at least better), then I should get over myself and just tell them what I think.

Anyway speaking of the peonies, they are so beautiful! ... I'm glad I bought them :)  And there is plenty more where these came from, am just trying to pace myself with the posting.

Have a lovely weekend, everyone!  I'm off to (try to) make some raspberry and lemon friands (wish me luck, lol).

Toy story

Following my little jaunt down memory lane about the books that I liked to read in my yoof, I got to thinking about the toys that I loved to play with when I was younger.  Was anyone as obsessed with Sweet Secrets (you have no idea the amount of Googling I had to undertake to remember what these blasted things were called) as I was?  They were small, jewelled lockets that you could open up and fold out arms, legs and a head to make little dolls and animals.  The lockets also had a clip on the back so that you could wear them as a necklace or hairclip, although I could never get them to stay in my hair as they were too heavy.  I found the below photo on flickr and it all came rushing back to me!  I had the dog, and the pony, and the toucan and the cat and a few of the little dolls ones ... ohh I loved them so much!  Heh.

{image: kjy180305}

I also la-la-loved My Little Pony.  I had a couple of these, one of which was a grey pony with little pink hearts and matching pink pony hair, and also a white pony with pretty rainbow hair that I would brush (and brush.  And brush some more).

{image: kjy180305}

Then there was my Pound Puppy, Yuppie (yeah, I was real creative with the naming ... good thing I never tried to name an orange *groan*), whom I loved mostest of all.  Yuppie had little blue and white striped flannel pyjamas that I changed him into every night (they had a little velcro flap at the back through which to poke his tail) and also a daytime outfit - a white t-shirt with little red hearts on it and red trim and blue and white striped pants with attached suspenders in yellow.  I would wrap him up and put him to bed (was going to say "sleep" but that sounded suspiciously like euthanasia) in a basket lined with a pillow and carry him about the place.  When it was hot, he got to go nekkid.  I don't know whatever happened to him :(

I also had a wee little collection of Care Bears, with their cute tummy symbols.  Bedtime Bear (blue, with sleepy crescent moon),  Love-a-Lot Bear (pink, with two intertwined hearts) ... and one new year's eve, when I was younger than nine (I can only ever approximate time by reference to whether my little brother was in existence or not, lol), I really really really wanted to stay up until midnight, and dad bet me a Care Bear that I couldn't do it.  Needless to say, on the next shopping day in the new year, I added Friendship Bear (orange, with smiley flowers) to my collection :P

And my Barbie doll, who came in a big foufy shiny white wedding dress with little diamante earrings.  I tried to cut layers into her hair.  They never grew out.  And then for some reason I tried to dye her hair purple but succeeded only in altering the colour of her face.

Being a kid was fun.  I kinda miss it!

Gah, Oroton!

Why must you tempt me away from my Spending Minimisation Plan with your pretty wares, especially at a time when retail therapy is needed most??  Be strong, woman!  Think of Provence!!

:)

. {vintage floral stud earrings} . {fiore mini bag} .

. {tzigane fold clutch} . {oroton essential flat} .

. {havana chain bracelet} . {phuket sunglasses} .

. {vintage hair pin} . {signature-o silk scarf} .

Hi, drangea

I know, groan, right?  But my week has been exceptionally groanworthy, mostly thanks to work (thanks, work!).  At present the only thing that is keeping me sane is the prospect of maybe going another holiday next year to take a zillion more photos (and I must admit that for all the current work-related angst, I am grateful for having a steady income so that I can travel and get away from the source of that income, heh), which in turn assists with sticking to my Spending Minimisation Plan, although yesterday I got it into my head that I must absolutely buy a summer hat, so drove into the city and bought one.  I'm still not entirely sure what prompted that, but whatever.  I now have a hat.


Hydrangeas are in full bloom at the moment.  I think they are lovely, so here are some photos!