One Long Blow

Me and Einstein

Bottles with Messages: Messages in Bottles

We were at Lens Crafters and it went something like this:
Jordan: I have my polaroid camera with me.
Reba: Take a picture of me.
Jordan: Here?! okay, but it will make a loud noise.
Reba: Let me first put on some glasses.

Happy Anniversary Mum&Pops.

Sheet music seems most appealing during this time of year. The good and the less good of tones and pitches blend together to echo out carols of delight. I am convinced that my own voice becomes better during this time of year, and an overwhelming burst of confidence hiding in the bottom of my diaphragm from January to November seems to make a once-a-year appearance along with Santa and his reindeers*.
But as we sing the Christmas hymns in sacrament meeting, I feel as though we are but a few harmonies away from the tabernacle choir, and that in itself is something to write home about.
'Tis also the season, not only to sing, but to listen to Christmas music. This year is my third year in which I have had the opportunity to binge on Sufjan Stevens, who sings some mighty holiday melodies. All of his tunes are simple and wonderful, and each year it seems that I allow myself to attach my ears to a single song of his. Vol.III: DING!DONG! has been on repeat, and more specifically is the traditional 12th century French carol, "Orientis Partibus" or "The Friendly Beasts"

*I would love a taxidermied reindeer for Christmas, and I would pay to see a taxidermied Santa, if there is such a thing.

Messy Room
by Shel Silverstein

Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
His raincoat is there in the overstuffed chair,
And the chair is becoming quite mucky and damp.
His workbook is wedged in the window,
His sweater's been thrown on the floor.
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV,
And his pants have been carelessly hung on the door.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His vest has been left in the hall.
A lizard named Ed is asleep in his bed,
And his smelly old sock has been stuck to the wall.
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
Donald or Robert or Willie or--
Huh? You say it's mine? Oh, dear,
I knew it looked familiar!

The unexpected, ever-so comforting Woody Allen

I don't mind spending evenings alone, as long as I have a collective amount of movies I can watch one after another as I eat tomato soup and knit my Christmas presents. I've been cut from work at the Market once more, and luckily I can "rent" dvds for free at the public library.
Woody Allen after Woody Allen after Woody Allen.
I'm reliving 1970's New York.

Muslin:III

Still in an unfinished state, with work still to be done on the back and adding the sleeves.

Illustration of Muslin:III

Indulging in Georgia Geography

It started out with a simple, familiar drive. A drive I drove at least once a month, I-16West to I-75North. That is, until Kelsey pulled out her handwritten directions of lefts and rights on the curved country roads through Georgia. Rolled hay stacks, orchards of pecans trees, and a series of steeple church houses composed of a variety of Christian denominations; Baptists, Methodists, Presbyterians, Lutherans, etc. all epitomize the South. We made several stops to confirm our directions, and a couple stops for the sake of a sentimental souvenir. Our favorite place, no argument, was a trading post outside of the small town of Thompson. We were greeted by an abundant amount of rabbits and a toothless, white-haired, overall-wearing man. His merchandise was all old: aged, worn, and expired; yet he managed to keep himself updated by wearing a modern pair of sunglasses. His things were overpriced as if he were charging for the layers of dust. I made no purchases, but allowed myself to indulge in taking digital photographs. Our journey continued Northeast towards Athens, where introductions were made, tours were taken, and philosophical topics were discussed.
Our hopes are to visit once more to this trading post, and if Kelsey gets engaged anytime soon this is where her wedding registry will be.

Joyeux Noël !

With the lack of cold weather here in Savannah, it seems easy to procrastinate on all the little things to do during the Christmas season, but it's nice to know these things are still getting done.
I woke up early, considering it was a Saturday; slipped on a sweater dress, splurged on some Polaroid film, and walked around the beautiful historic district. During the first Saturday of December, the people of Savannah gather in the morning to deck their squares of holiday cheer. Rolls of red ribbon, hot beverages, fresh evergreen trimmings, and Krispy Kreme donuts surplussed every square I strolled by, along with good spirits and an overall excitement for the season to come. Some of Savannah's trees still have their bright autumn leaves, which allows for surrounding warmer tones, opposed to cold, bare branches. The old cathedrals downtown sing along to the Christmas spirit; once the hand hits the hour the bells continue to play as they do during the year, but along with the familiar chimes are chimes of Christmas tunes, O Holy Night, Silent Night, Little Town of Bethlehem. It is so wonderful being in a city this time of year.



If one is hanging around at home, searching for Christmas inspiration, listen to this Christmas Message from Dieter F. Uchtdorf. Listen to it in the bath, while you're cooking, while you're eating, sipping on hot cocoa or herbal tea, listen to this while you make Christmas gifts, while you draw, paint, knit, sew, or while you wrap your gifts. It's a simple, pleasant message for all.

Muslin:II

I hope to always have Paris myself.

A lesson a day on Rosetta Stone.
Speaking with Isabelle.
Continuously watching French films; Jean-Luc Godard, François Truffaut, Eric Rohmer.
Trying to research applications for a working visa.
Keeping my fingers crossed,
my toes crossed,
my eyes crossed.
Throwing pennies in fountains.
Making a wish when I see three birds on a telephone wire.
Blowing out birthday candles.
Breaking wishbones.
Finding a penny head's up, then wearing it on my left shoe.
and holding my breath when going through tunnels.
One of those are bound to get me there.

Something to start one's day.

Muslin: I

Done in the beginning of Fall quarter. The calluses on my fingertips were slowly beginning to form as I spent my hours on my futon watching continuous amounts of films, and listening to continuous amounts of books on CD.

The Art of Fur Wrapping

Searching for cardboard boxes and hoping that our new house on park avenue comes with taxidermy. Kelsey and I have our minds on coming across such a discovery. I've discussed the idea of hanging fur of deceased animals with several people, and have been getting mixed reviews. Regardless of all the opinions, I think such a masculine element would look handsome within a house of three girls.
Baking, perfume, make-up, dresses, jewelry, and taxidermy.


tax·i·der·my (tks-dûrm)
n.
The art or operation of preparing, stuffing, and mounting the skins of dead animals
for exhibition in a lifelike state.
taxi·dermal, taxi·dermic adj.
taxi·dermist n

Emily, meet Lucille.
Lucille, this is Emily.

-Inspired by a warm mug filled with hot cocoa, listening to past Christmas devotionals, and collecting my thoughts from fall quarter.

-Taunted by a Library fee, and an urgency to inhale the scent of old books; Nick, Kelsey, and I ventured to Savannah's public library. This December weather was just nippy enough to welcome indoor activities, and neither one of them had been to the library on Bull Street. About an hour had passed, the three of us were surrounded by plastic-sleeved covered books residing on painted metal bookshelves. I became a tourist and insisted on photo documentation.
-We were tempted by other forms of media to entertain our minds, eyes, and ears; resulting in loaded arms of books, DVDs, and books on CD.
-Our level of gratitude towards public participation at the library was at its highest peak. To further our happiness, in the empty lot next door we found an abandoned piece of furniture. I suggested photo documentation, which resulted in a photoshoot.
-Exhausted due to severe model treatment we turned to a homemade meal back at their apartment across the park. Indulging in Kelsey's goodness in the kitchen, we started our movie marathon and ate pumpkin soup and salad.
-Several movies later, we reconvened in the kitchen for a homemade pizza: midnight snack.
-I leave with a parting gift; A somewhat sneaky attempt of Nick capturing Kelsey and I pretending to be on a cooking show. Nick was really embarrassed for us because we were actually getting quite involved in our imaginations. We are making hot chocolate with steamed milk.