As anyone who knows me knows, I love cats. Meags suggested perhaps I might build a catio and my cat is halfway done writing his first #1 hit (“Lick, Lick, Licken Dem Paws”). People who know me also know that I love Gone with the Wind. So. Suffice it to say I loveLoveLOVED this article about Vivien Leigh’s cats. Doesn’t she look so so glamorous?
Author: loiseaufait
Little by little the bird feathers its nest, and object by heart burnished object we surround ourselves with lovely necessities of memory and function. It is these things that make a silly Apartment a Home or a silly Wednesday an Occasion.
Whether my nest is an old farmhouse, a sixth floor tenement walk up, or a brownstone basement... whether I share it with family, vagabonds, women of heart and mind, or a little brown cat and a sweet ginger banjo, my principal joy is filling it with light and laughter (and corralling).
Picnic!
Much traveling, so little time at home… sweetheart and I capitalize on this rare day in August where breezes kiss the skin. Impromptu picnic in Fort Greene Park. What a lovely afternoon…
The amazing Opinel knife belongs to me (courtesy of Cassie’s divine Gravel & Gold), but alas, the Steinbeck belongs to Sweetheart. I’m shamelessly burning through George R.R. Martin’s Storm of Swords like wildfire. I’ve bought each book from Greenlight and they (mercifully) don’t make me feel like I should be reading something better.
It’s not over til the… ahem. until the Lady sings.
All it takes is a cool breeze and I got an itchin in my bones for fall. I am not alone. Just as I was about to spend some time yearning for sweaters, I had the delicious fortune to stumble upon New York Magazine’s stunning roundup of get-em-while-it’s-hot-ephemeral-summer-eats. Oh baby, it ain’t over til it’s over. I see a trip to Randazzo’s in my near future… 
Yum Yum Yum: Zucchini thin pie from Franny’s , Blueberry (thick!) pie from Four and Twenty Blackbirds, Tomatoes (for Andrew) from whatevs farmers market you can muster, ‘wichcraft BLT (LOOK at it), Pearl Oyster Bar Po Boy, and Key Lime Frozen Yogurt from Culture… so much outer borough love!
All Courtesy of Robin Raisfeld and Rob Patronite
Hello Crewel World
Seriously LOVING these needlepoints from Maricor/Maricar.
What could be better than double-knotting and stem stitching The Rolling Stones, The Magnetic Fields, and The Pixies together with old fashioned needlepoint skills? Supreme thanks to Njoki, for all.
Wildflowers Don’t Care Where They Grow
Saw these amazing succulents growing wild on the sheer walls over the jagged caves of the Oregon coast. They’re like: See? You can make beauty in a hard place, but you’ve just got to go easy on it. Why, thank you, little cactustrees, how did you know I was feeling so introspective? See Also: Dolly Parton.
Road Jewels
Coco Chanel tells us that we must remove one bauble before leaving the house in danger of perhaps becoming tacky, or worse, vulgar. Mlle. Coco, we beseech: what if we aren’t leaving the house, per se, but rather have left home for adventure and are now streaming up from the hot spring, leaving the safety of the outcrop for the plunge of the cliff, emerging from the tent, slouching towards sunset, or craning up towards the heavens? On the road, I think, you’re free to bedeck yourself in old Moroccan corals, jet black beads of lost traders, turquoises from Santa Fe, feathers of all shapes and sizes, gilded ropes, chains, abalone strands, and shining winking bangles that ring like bells when you walk into your destiny. I think Coco would be down.
Napamazing
Next on our travels we were blown by a gilded wind into St. Helena at the gracious invitation of the divine Miss Julia Esser. Julia is a kindred spirit with a love for party games, leisure sports, floaty dresses, and making things be as lovely as they possibly can be. Please refer to her utterly stellar blog How To Hostess . We were put into teams. Us, the Road (s)Trippers (image above courtesy of the marvelous Mia Baxter, co-captain and choreographer), the Movie Stars- a group of LA beauties streaming Rickie Lee Jones and smelling of orange blossoms, and the Skidmore Skiddies- a hirsute crew of farmers and bon vivants. We made team dinners, foisted fierce competitions, and generally lolled about amidst grace and beauty. There was lavender and raw sugar to rim our drinks, there was a box full of straw hats, there were homemade elixirs of peach and berries and thyme, there were games and music playing all day and night, and there was the supreme loveliness of the place and its doyenne.
Thank you Miss Esser.
And we bought a delicious case of wine for the road. Perfect!
Love, The Sheets
As someone who takes great pleasure in labeling things about the house and an even greater joy in writing anthropomorphic notes, I truly loved this California driftwood missive from the sheets (Mr, Mrs, and the pillowcase kids).
Mission Day
Every day in the Mission has started out with turkish coffee and gone on to include beautiful things like this typewriter from The Apartment, Noodles to rival Rai Rai Ken at Yamo, and eggs from the chickens from the farm in Ann Marie’s backyard.
Tomales Bay Oyster Company
We had been in California for less than 12 hours when we debarked for the Pacific Coast Highway and our dear friends took us to Tomales Bay Oyster Company. We got two spidery mesh bags of 50 oysters each (yes, 100 oysters), buttery and fat and still fresh wet from their briny homes, shucked and raw with fresh lemon and tabasco or smoked and yawning open on the grill. Add a cast iron skillet full of sweet butter, caramelized onions and squash from the Bolinas Farmstand, crusty sourdough bread, haloumi cheese, and plenty of cold beer and, well, we are doing quite well for ourselves.
Feather By Feather 