A Few of Our Favorite Things

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A Few of Our Favorite Things

Isabelle

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Here's Isabelle, popping out of her favorite suitcase after a long voyage, ready for work. And already on the phone with her travel agent for another trip! This chic and spunky Paris Marketeer is always teaching me new French, and as you can see from this shot, always up for new fun! Here are a few of her favorite things:

1. Plush Cotton and Terry Spa Robe 2. Louis Vuitton Suitcase 3. Fig Apricot Soap 4. Sugar Plum Lip Treatment 5. Sugar Lip Polish 6. Nautilus Shell 7. Brass Bird Cage with Ceramic Bird 8. Vintage Telephone 9. The Luxury Bathroom 10. Glamourous Rooms

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Back to School, Back in the the Day

Going back to school every September involved a special and dedicated perusal of the JC Penney Catalog which arrived sometime in May, but which my sister and I hadn’t the inclination for until August.

Then it was my Mom ordering a few things from the pages and going to Macy’s for new outfits and shoes. Before the trip to Macy’s, though, my sister, at my mother’s request, emptied out her drawers of anything that didn’t fit her anymore or was merely unwanted. It was then unceremoniously handed to me or thrown in my general direction. Unfortunately, most everything always fit. However, my sister was a terrible slob as a child, and anything stained I didn’t have to accept. “Oh Tamara, I could have ‘shouted’ this out.” Mom would say with a sour Irish expression as she tossed it into the “going out” pile. How many stains went unnoticed and unreported, we’ll never know.

I know it wasn’t supposed to be, but it was kind of humiliating being asked to wear all my sister’s old stuff, and even though I got new things too, it put me in a bad mood for the upcoming shopping trip. I was once more at the start of the endless hand-me-down cycle and I’d cry for the future when I saw some of the stuff she picked out.

From there it was shoes, and I remember being very sad the day I learned that Velcro was no longer available in my size. Ah Velcro, two straps you pulled tight and you were ready for action. It was so fast! And made noise! And I was small and built for speed. Losing Velcro to tie laces was an unexpected reversal.

Then it was a new haircut. The home haircuts usually came out okay. But the modified mullet I received for my First Holy Communion brought me to such a personal low, that Mom started taking us to Sal’s on the corner and we listened to lite rock and the two of us swung in the big chairs gratefully waiting our turn.

The only part I truly enjoyed was the actual school supply shopping part, which I found completely fantastic. Fresh paper and notebooks! Fresh pencils that you could sharpen to a fine point and glue you could peel from your fingers! Craypas you could smash into new colors! This, this was my pie in the sky that descended for me every September.

Do I miss the Back to School buildup? Yes, oh yes.

But do I miss being a child? No, no. Not at all, Not ever. No.

 Me, my sister Tamara, our cabbage patch dolls, and the blue shirt I'd be wearing next year.

Our back to school shopping list:

1. Great Women Rulers of Literature Ruler, 2. Composition Book, 3. Chalkboards from India, 4. Letterpress Note Papers, 5. Elephant Backpack, 6. John Derian Glass Notes Tray, 7. Yellow Euro Cases, 8. Colored Tape, 9. Living Architecture book, 10. Linen & Leather Recess Tote

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Book Report: Le Petit Prince

I first read The Little Prince in French class when I was in high school, or I tried to. Some of the philosophical gems were lost on me due to a still poor understanding of the French Language. So this Sunday I got out my English version and gave it another go.

The story opens up with a stranded pilot, (the narrator) meeting The Little Prince who asks him to draw him a sheep.

From here we are sucked into a world of whimisical charm. The Little Prince cleans out the volcanoes on his planet like chimneys, is concerned with unruly baobabs and falls in love with a fussy flower (don't we all?) Traveling the solar system he meets many incarnations of our human craziness, our shallow love of money, of power, of security, our resistance to change - even if it's the best option, and our amazing ability to remain stuck and cling to fuzzy thinking. The Prince just sighs, many times stupefied, and other times angry. But although others have things to learn from the Little Prince, he ALSO has things to learn. He's not just a little Buddha wandering around tossing out pearls, for a darling little fox tells him one day:

"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." 

And as with most great classics, love becomes the story; brightly, not sappily, hitting the right pitch of bittersweet.

The Little Prince thinks again of his rose that he loves:

"...But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen, because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose..."

And the fox reminds him "...you are responsible for your rose."

Don't worry, I haven't given it all away, there are many gems (with many facets) to mine in this story, and its messages will never leave you!

Some little sheep we have here at The Paris Market:

  

And the Little Prince, at times lonely and melancholic throughout his journey,

made me think of this card we have - a nice smattering of pearls

for a good-feeling community of friends

I'm not the only one in love with the Little Prince, check out Reba's musings on it here

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A bird in the hand

 

I was on my way to the work yesterday, when in my usual path there was construction, so I walked up a block and went down Bryan St instead, and just as I was passing Abe’s on Lincoln, I saw a little lump of yellow on the sidewalk. It was a little bird, lying on his side with his beak gaping and his pearl black eyes wide open. He looked just like this:

I scooped him up because it wouldn’t be right to leave him there whatever his situation and if he was dying I didn't want him doing it all alone in the hot hot sun, on the cruel pavement. Birds are sweet things and deserve the best. There was no struggle when I picked him up, but he wasn’t cold either and he fit perfectly in the palm of my hand. Not knowing what to do with him I just continued on my way, and then I felt his heartbeat in my hand; sputtering a few beats, then getting into a steady rhythm. He rested comfortably in my hand as if we had been buddies forever and we made our way into Reynolds Square where we sat for a bit on a marble bench in the shadow of John Wesley.

I was able to collect some beads of water on my fingertips from rain puddled on a grate and he was able to drink it. Then he closed his eyes slightly as if to say, “Och, that really hurt.” We sat for a little bit, as I didn’t know if his revival was temporary or lasting. I was thinking I should get to work when I felt an ant biting my foot and when I looked down, I felt the bird taking off from my hand. He flew up and away from me, and settled up in the crook of a big oak tree. His wings looked good, his flight flawless and I walked over to look at him one more time before heading to work.

I can’t walk through Reynolds Square now without thinking of my little birdie.

When I experience the thin line between life and death, a full cup versus an empty one, joy versus suffering, even happy endings make me sad. And birds, whether you believe they are the souls of the departed or not, hold special sway over me. So spirited and gracious and seemingly fragile, and so beautiful flying through the ether where we are just heavy clumps in comparison, and so brave when windows look like extended sky, and it’s so easy to get stunned.

 A bird in the hand
is worth the whole world.

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