elephantine

cat vs. bike

Recent faves, Sartorialist style. (The photo on the left is simply beautiful because of its haphazardness; the one on the right captures outfits I'd actually want to wear.)

So, this morning:

Me: Do you think I should move my bicycle? The cat might climb on it.
Stefan: What? No, it's fine.
Me: But yesterday he was sniffing the tire.
Stefan: He was just curious. It's fine.

We walk into the hallway. Rufus is up on his hind legs, front paws on the tire, face smushed up against the bike. He's sniffing it, really enjoying its intricacies.

When he makes sure we're paying attention, he chomps down on one of the wires.

Stefan: I'll move it.

space and lack thereof

These handmade mobiles from Portland-based frazier & wing are stunning. (Via the girl in the green dress.)

While doing a little research today, I learned that "beehives require almost no space." Really, now? Beehives are so compact they're close to being invisible, but no cigar? And then, being the little detective that I am, I found the same sentence on another website. I'm really hoping that the two are connected – as opposed to the copyrighter of the second website thinking, "Hey, this is a great selling point of these beehives! I'm stealing it."

what rhymes with bicycle?

After weeks of looking, I found the right one. Meet my shiny new friend, the 700c Draft, bluish gray, 27 pounds. A bit retro, too: it has a grand total of one speed. After swapping the straight handlebars for curved ones, it'll be perfect.

And I just love the description over at Bike Emory: "Who Rides a Draft? You appreciate simplicity in your life and have an eye for smooth lines and aesthetics." Yup, they got me. Spot on.

so, here's the thing...

A few words about the business side of elephantine:

You may have noticed a lack of craft/shop updates during the last few months. It's due to a mix of factors, the strongest being my re-focusing on creative writing. I wish I had enough energy to do both, but I don't. When I first opened up my shop, I repeatedly read about how much hard work it took to maintain such an undertaking, and those, my friends, are wise words. Anything worth doing is time consuming. And there's only so many hours in the day.

Bottom line: my shop's still open, but I'm not actively making updates. Plushies are available, but by request only.

When I figure out how to be some kind of productivity superhero and can take on everything I wish I could while still getting a decent amount sleep, I'll let you all know. But, for the time being, consider this an indefinite craft hiatus.

the mouths of babes

Much cuteness over at girl savage. And drop by her blog here.

Conversation between the mother and son sitting beside us in the theater, following the Watchmen trailer (and can I just say that the Smashing Pumpkins pairing is excellent):

SON: I want that right now! Let's go buy it!
MOTHER: No, we can't. It isn't even in theaters yet.
SON: Let's go buy it right now! Right now!
MOTHER: No, it... it... isn't even...
SON: But I want to buy it!

cupcakes and lemonade

Ohhh delectable: cupcake wrappers from Paper Orchid.

A few days ago there was an article in New York Magazine written by the lovely Joanna Goddard about kids and their lemonade stands. You can read it in its entirety here. It's quite sweet. I'm impressed by the sales smarts of one kid in particular – Joanna asks him where he keeps the money, and the reply is:

OLIVER: In a jar, but you have to hide it under the table. Otherwise, they will say, "Oh, you already have too much money! We’re not going to buy lemonade!"

shades of gray

Even though I prefer a colorful summer wardrobe, Morrison's seasonal looks are lovely.

My dreams used to be plump and cinematic, sometimes indulgent (winning the lottery, flying unaided), sometimes terrifying (cornered in a natural history museum by a live, ravenous T-rex). But lately, they've all been, well, bland. I dream about having work to do. I dream about showing up late. If there's a trick to encouraging more colorful ways to keep my mind occupied in the wee hours of the night, indulge me. Because I'd appreciate avoiding experiences like this: I actually had a dream that I was using my iPhone, accidentally pressed the web browser button, and couldn't figure out how to get back to my email. How lackluster is that?

wed-nes-day

Gold jewelry from Catbird NYC: 14K tiny chain rings and bobby pin necklace.

Tonight: preoccupied with the third season of Weeds and season premiere of Project Runway. Oh, yeah. I'm going to pour a little Baileys and slump down into the sofa like the true couch potato I am.

that's pants!

Oh Leoluca makes me swoon forever and ever. There's a good reason I've repeatedly posted about it.

Recently I was walking up a wide outdoor stairway populated by scattered lunchers. Now, I wasn't trying to notice it, but it happened anyway: one guy had a split down the entire crotch of his pants. This wasn't some little inconspicuous hole; it was so large that ripping the pants the rest of the way apart seriously looked feasible. I don't understand how he couldn't have noticed. (He must have been wearing some thick undies.) Anyway, there he sat, chatting with his lunch-buddy without a care in the world, and at that moment I really wanted more than anything to see the expression on his face the moment he discovered his shortcoming. Would it be while he was still at work, in the middle of a critical meeting, a frozen terror instantly flashing across his face? Would it be that evening, at home, a much-delayed humiliation suddenly burning up his cheeks?

Today's advice: spot-check for horrific rips in outfit before dressing.

exclamation point

Photos as promised: this is the typewriter that now sits on my dining room table, occupying the space that has been used for actual dining only two or three times. Punching the keys is very satisfying, as is the confident ding! at the end of each line. There is no key for 1 (I searched for a good solid minute) but I think I can manage – the I will be on double duty. It is a Smith-Corona Sterling from the 1940's, and it is all mine mine mine.

another weekend bites the dust

Lighthearted work from D. Billy.

As of yesterday, I'm officially a proud and slightly poorer iPhonette, obsessively checking it, trying to see how fast and accurately I can hunt and peck, adding new apps and shifting them around and then adding more for good measure. I'm also going to try to keep my twitter updated, so if you feel the need, follow me here.

It was about a two hour wait until being ushered into the AT&T store. This particular AT&T store is attached to a mall. And not a big or popular mall: I can count the numbers of shops I actually shop in on my left hand.

But at one point, a man slowly approached the line, looked at all of us with great confusion, and asked with disbelief, "Is this... the line... to get into the mall?" It was a good thing that someone explained the situation, because I think he might have had a heart attack had we said yes.

half a dozen

Adorable children's clothing and playthings from Japanese shop Chigo.

Yesterday was beau & my 6th year anniversary. I kept thinking, "Six, really? It's really been that long already?" He gave me an incredibly lovely gift – a Corona typewriter from the 40's. (Yes, I'll photograph it soon.) We had reservations at the Melting Pot: two and a half hours of scrumptious bits of food dipped in everything from garlic-flavored cheese to bouillon to Bailey's and chocolate. And let's not forget the Love Martini – rum, schnapps, cranberry juice, and fresh strawberries.

Goals for this weekend: fight off the crowds for the new iPhone, get the novel outline to 15 pages (currently at 13), go canoeing without embarrassing myself, watch the French flick Happenstance.

super supermarket

Sweetness from Supermarket: Egg Pants and randLCanvas Large Notebook.

ooolio

Light & summery from Olio United.

Today I saw a woman toting her dog around in a baby carrier. Its feet jutted out, dangling helplessly, but not showing disapproval in the slightest. Then the woman sneezed – a loud, mega-spray sneeze – right into the pup's face.

spaghetti stock

Western Spaghetti, the latest and greatest from PES, is the coolest thing I've seen in weeks. These stills don't do it a smidgen of justice. Watch it. And turn on your speakers.

Today on the morning ride, I overhear the guy behind me rave to his friend about a realtime bus tracker on his cellphone. "There's another bus about five blocks behind us," he informs the friend, and he gains instant popularity with those around him.

"What is that? Where'd you get it?" I hear.

"It's a project by the University of Washington. Just go to mybus.org," he instructs.

Women on both sides of him are tickled pink. But one of them is still a little fuzzy, and keeps asking how exactly he's accessing this enigmatic treasure chest of knowledge. He tells her that she just needs a WAP-enabled phone, to which she replies, "Oh.... uh, well, I guess I need a new phone. So, um, how do you get to it, again?" He rattles off the web address another couple times, still wildly cheerful.

And then the woman exclaims, "I'll have to buy stock in this!"

To which the guy replies, "Well, um... you can't – it's not really – um."

This is kind of like saying, 'I'm going to buy stock in search engines!" But, you know, I'll give her the benefit of the doubt, because things can come out wrong. I am no stranger to that. Sometimes I even switch the order of words and don't realize it until someone pokes fun. (On a semi-related note, I have to insert here that one of my all-time favorite Onion headlines is Man Accidentally Ends Business Call With "I Love You".)

Lastly, on another and completely unrelated note: for those of you intrigued by Takashi Iwasaki's work that I posted about a bit ago, check out The Duhks album over at Sugar Hill Records – his art is featured on the cover.