i knew it would be good

That is my attempt at organization. But it's portable, so I can pile my brain fodder on the breakfast-in-bed tray, and if company should drop by, I'll just cart my junk to our closet! I think you need to see a few close-ups.

A Sesame Letterpress card for someone (hopefully she does not read my blog often):



I love these tea room ladies - one of the vintage matchbox labels from The Curiosity Shoppe. I also love donna hay magazine:



It's rather pricey ($10.00), but wow, how pretty. On page 158 of issue #34, I learned how to make vanilla-scented hand towels using real vanilla beans. Y'all know how I feel about vanilla, so of course I'll be trying out that idea on our guests.

And this morning, the following events clued me in - today is one of the good days:

* Sunshine.

* Heating pad on my creaking neck, yet a smile on my face.

* Assam harmony tea. Not every tea needs a sweet, autumn flavor. This tea has a natural sweetness, perfect for quiet.

* Breakfast: two pieces of turkey sausage, one with fennel, and fresh slices of bell pepper. I love bell peppers, especially red.

* The first two glass doorknob "2007 holiday gift guide" interviews. For some reason, I love to know whether or not creative types are morning or evening people, and what rituals they practice at the start and close of each day.
Please share your preferences - thank you.

* Finding Casey's Wood Products via the ever-inspiring SouleMama. Wooden acorns, eggs, candle cups, and little wooden Christmas trees!

* Anticipating bookstore-browsing with Johnny: coffee, at least one new magazine, and hiding poetry.

* Also, Target. I was thrilled to e-mail a Method employee and discover that their soy candles not only contain cotton wicks, but also lead-free wicks. Today: a fig candle peppermint vanilla [unfortunately, the fig candle reeks]; maybe cinnamon bark [Johnny thought it smelled "like a bathroom"].

* I recalled this verse, read last night:
"...Thou that makest the outgoings of the morning and evening to praise Thee." (Psalm 65:8)
I thought of blushing trees across the street which actually seemed to sing this morning, and how the calm shades of dusk hum quiet lullabies.



* Likewise, I remembered this paragraph from A Field Guide to Getting Lost, read in the bathtub:

"The world is blue at its edges and depths. This blue is the light that got lost. Light at the blue end of the spectrum does not travel the whole distance from the sun to us. It disperses among the molecules of the air, it scatters in water. Water is colorless, shallow water appears to be the color of whatever lies underneath it, but deep water is full of this scattered light, the purer the water the deeper the blue. The sky is blue for the same reason, but the blue at the horizon, the blue of land that seems to be dissolving into the sky, is a deeper, dreamier, melancholy blue, the blue at the farthest reaches of the places where you see for miles, the blue of distance. This light that does not touch us, does not travel the whole distance, the light that gets lost, gives us the beauty of the world, so much of which is in the color blue."

I do love blue, and that book is meant for slow-reading. I was reminded how thankful I am to own this print (from an original Polaroid Time-Zero photograph), too.