Always keep your tiara near …

Puffer Fish Princess


While wandering in and out of little stores at the coast on Saturday, I ran across this beauty.

Her name is Priscilla and she is a Puffer Fish Princess.

If I were a spiky, puffed, fish, I would be her.

Just sayin’


Gratitude Day Five …

Pajamas! ‘O’ how I love them!

Maybe it’s the memory of wearing them as a child or simply that they mean utter comfort and warmth on a cold Winters night.

Either way they are soft, cuddly perfection.

Sexy you ask?

Maybe not, but it’s the girl inside that makes the pajamas, no?

Did I mention the socks?

At the moment my choice is a pair of thick woolen beasts that are simply divine.

For as long as I can remember I have received a new pair of pj’s every Christmas Eve. 

And, even now at the age of … well I think I’ll keep that part to myself… I am still blessed with this gift.

Last years goodies –  blue and white fleece penguin and polar bear riddled pants and a top.

Looking at them elicits two things:

First: Hysterical laughter


Secondly: The need for air conditioning

But I keep them.  And now and again, when I am all alone on a very chilly evening, I will don them.

Strangely though, I find myself bottomless somewhere in the middle of the night (apparently even the sleepy me knows when to prevent heat stroke).

It’s funny, I truly despise pajamaish (my word of course) nightgowns. Please, no little house on the prairie gear for this girl. 

And,  just so you don’t think I’m not sophisticated,  I happen to own several pair of lovely satin ones as well. 

But again, the bottoms usually end up discarded in the wee hours (just as a side note: Never ever sleep on satin sheets with satin pajamas. The result  is painfully catastrophic (think sliding off said sheets. But I digress…).

So, let’s give a hearty and grateful round of applause for jammies.  A tired girls best friend!

Formation …

Sweet lips of berry

Breath of rose petals

Skin of cream

Heart of delicate glass with miniscule cracks


eyes of an azure sea

She gently waits 

while imparting soft whispers of a dream

into ears of cool clay…


Carousel …


I love carousels!

There’s something a bit magical about them. 

As if just by stepping on to one you could somehow transport yourself to different lands.

I’ve always wanted a carousel horse of my very own.  I suppose it’s a little girls dream that hasn’t yet slipped away.  But not just any horse, one that is old, hand carved and filled with brilliant character.  One that vibrates with happy energy.  The kind that has been infused into the wood over the years by whimsical riders.

I spent the day today at the Atlantic, and the carousel you see above is from 1932.  The music that it plays is from an original Wurlitzer organ. 

It is magnificent!

The best part? All of the animals had names. 

Personally I preferred Norma, Lilian and Fella!