Plan of Attack: This is clearly a lazy afternoon recovery tub. Drink a giant glass of this Melon, Cucumber and Mint Smoothie while paging through some issues of Kinfolk or Wilder. Then go get back into a bed that looks like this , eat some stuff on toast and nap like it’s going out of style. C
Via Miss Peelpants
Plan of Attack: Change NOTHING, because this is obviously perfect and a work of art. Instead, set about making yourself worthy of such splendor. I feel as though this is the sort of bathtub in which one needs to wear lipstick and probably a turban. Have someone else fix you a Pink Lady in a tiny vintage martini glass and make sure they use this Rosehip Grenadine from City of Daughters. Once they bring it to you, you should say something like “That will be all…” and don’t worry too much if they give you a shitty look. Also, you should be using some sort of bath product that smells like a million fancy ladies. C
Plan of Attack: Realize that the sad little white towel has no right to be in this picture. Replace it with this towel (Because Rule 42, naturally…) and settle in with a rocks glass containing a comically large ice cube in a tidy puddle of this homemade spruce vodka (with a twist). Read any sort of YA science fiction that strikes your fancy. Have this overpriced robe at hand. C
I fell off the ol’ Blog Wagon. It’s just been so chilly and cozy and full of things to do. I’ve decided that the best way to get back in the swing of things is to start with a solid week of Tubs. After all, the entire concept of a Tub encompasses all the chilly and cozy leanings that have been sabotaging my writerly productivity as of late. And so, here we go! The first of many:
(Via My Paradissi)
Plan of Attack: After systematically smelling that candle and each of those intruiging looking pump bottles, I would take that plant and throw it out of that super cool window, thus making room for a little plate of these gorgonzola and pistachio shortbread cookies and a glass of this wine. C
Here are the only pictures I managed to take of our Guy Fawkes Night. I really wanted to take more but I was swept away by friendship, gin cocktails and pork filled pastries. Clockwise, I present:
1. One of two effigies that met the fire that evening. I tried to make him look as much like Mr. Bill to offset HOW VERY CREEPY it is to burn effigies. The other effigy came via friend and neighbor Nic and had all it’s boy parts. We are nothing if not anatomically correct.
2. Bowler Hat Selfie. You may not realize that this is in fact a bowler hat because of how tiny it looks on my head, but it is, ok? If I haven’t mentioned it before, I have an exceptionally large head in order to contain all my face beauty and outstanding personality.
3. Aftermath. This doesn’t begin to show how much mud we all tracked into the house in our pork fueled merriment. That said, it was totally worth the hungover sweeping and mopping cycles that I completed the next morning.
(Ok, I lied. A few more photo stragglers are included below. If any friends have more pictures of the party would you send them on over?) C