the pop’s pictures.

These are adorable. Wedding photographer Jason Lee decided to turn the camera from the brides and grooms to his two daughters, and apparently the girls aren’t quite old enough yet to refuse all parental requests.  The photos are creative, the girls are so cute (and compliant!), and I’m a sucker for sweet Dad/Daughter stuff.

Hope the girls are getting a few extra bucks in their weekly allowance for being such ready models.

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the paintings in your closet.

Every morning in high school, after dragging myself out of bed at 6:20, I would slowly trudge to my dressing room and promptly collapse down on the carpet to stare blearily at my clothes, hoping some creative outfit inspiration would strike. These days, 6:20 counts as sleeping in, and I don’t put as much thought into my clothes as I probably should. Both then and now, I could probably get a bit of inspiration from Thread and Canvas.  The site takes famous paintings and comes up with sartorial getups that echo the aesthetic. Here are a couple of my favorite paintings in clothes form. 

The blogger also puts from where each piece of clothing comes, so if you’ve just got to have that Degas skirt, she can hook ya up.

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the would you rather.

Would you rather be floating in the ocean off Thailand watching your favorite flick here (thanks, Julie!):

Or stargazing on a warm summer night  in your backyard here:

Or making s’mores on this cool guy here?As much as I like s’mores, I think I’d go for 1 or 2, and if push came to shove, I’d pick 1.

(1,2, 3)

the literary ramblings.

As far as blogs go, I’m nearing saturation point on fashion/decor/food/fitness. I think I’ve read about adding “pops of color,” neon, and peplum to outfits enough. Chevron floors and lucite trays are cool, yes, but I’ve got my fill for a while. I don’t need to see blood oranges incorporated into another recipe. I know as much as I would like to know about the paleo diet. (But don’t hold me to these statements for over 24 hours. I’m sure I’ll be back to read about it all soon.)

Today’s site is a departure from these image-heavy blogs. Instead, it’s a word-weighty tumblr, and it’s called Ring Them Bells. I hope that writing blogs like these are just a currently untapped planet in the blogosphere for me because I’d like to come across many more.

Every few days, a woman named Elizabeth posts something. Sometimes it’s a funny and spontaneous musing like so:

“The problem with peach nail polish is that it often straddles a very fine line between sweet vintage and mortuary beauty school. If you can’t tell the difference you better avoid it altogether. There is nothing like sitting at your desk and wondering whether or not you look like you’ve been done up by someone who exclusively paints the dead.”

or like this:

“What is the difference between a goldfish and a slice of canned mandarin orange? Very little. And yet, when confronted with this striking textural similarity, why do people continue to eat the latter?”

or a well-articulated snapshot from her life like this:

The summer before our wedding, B spent his weekends out on the back steps building me this bookshelf—and another just like it. That’s love, isn’t it? It was months of sawdust in my tomato plants, and afternoons punctuated by the shriek of the buzz saw and then the inevitable thump of the wood against the landing. When I think of that summer, I remember only endless trips to the hardware store. The sharp smell of varnish. The constant washing of clothes.

The night we maneuvered the first shelf inside; stacked one piece atop the other until it stood just inches below the ceiling—we laughed uncontrollably. We stood back marveling at its majesty; surprised by its enormity. Afraid, maybe, that we had made a mistake. Next to it, I had never felt so dwarfed, so insignificant and wonderfully small. It took hours, and a step stool to fill it. But we did—beers in-hand, the waves of passing cars and the wind in the trees drifting in from an open window.”

And one picture for the post– under this shoe, Elizabeth imagines the likely sequence of events for the wearer.

1. Don a powdery white curled wig, sneer.
2. Convert your father’s hunting lodge into an extravagant palace. Launch four building campaigns all in the name of opulently greeting foreign dignitaries.
3. Commence a seemingly endless string of wars. Bankrupt the State.
4. Die old, shortly after legitimatizing all of your bastard children.”

It’s an interesting blog, and it’s great for when you’re tired of statement necklaces, white airy kitchens, and cake pops.

(All images and words from Ring Them Bells)

the so funny.

I’m feeling a little wonky after a 3 day dash across the Atlantic, but this site is boosting my mood big time. What Should We Call Me takes everyday occurrences and adds an animated image that captures the feeling. The situations range from “When your friend crops you out of their Facebook picture” to “When your boss walks into your office at 5 p.m. on Friday and asks you to do something for them” to “When people have reptiles for pets.” Each one is hilarious. Click the link and check it out– you will not be disappointed.

the city escape.

For the most part, I believe in moderation (exceptions include icing on a cupcake– the more the better, exercise– give me something high intensity or I’d rather not put on workout clothes). Given this middle of the road approach, I know that the life pictured on the blog below is not for me. I’m not one of those (practically omnipresent these days) people who wants to have a vegetable garden and feel the soil between his/her toes. I feel no compunction to have a herd of various animals. I mean, Whole Foods is one of my happy places. Still, I’m not a confirmed city person either– the traffic and honking horns and sprawl exhaust me. I’ve never looked at a skyline at night and thought, “That’s beautiful,” though I know many people have and do. My lovely friend Erin sent me this little poem a few weeks ago, and while I feel melodramatic saying I identify, it does sum up the feeling on the drearier days.

In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;

Petals on a wet, black bough.

On those days, teleporting somewhere like the places on Cabin Porn sounds phenomenal. The site collects pictures of secluded rustic homes all around the world. Take a look!

Most of the photos have captions. The one for the picture above is “The farmer ‘next door’ supplies us with fresh milk, eggs, cottage cheese, butter, hams, strawberries, chanterelles, blueberries, green onions… His daughter bakes cakes on Saturdays. If we’re around, she bakes one extra for us.”

Country life sounds nice. Maybe I could give up the close proximity to Target…

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