While accompanying my lovely sister-in-law Kim down 4th street in Anchorage (on her hunt for the perfect Alaskan-made hunting knife for her boys), I managed to find these treasures — all made by local artisans.
The Alaskan birch bowl was found at Cabin Fever. The ceramic bowls were found at Sevigny Studio. The blue and white bowl is made using the fascinating Japanese technique, Raku.
Because a girl can never have too many hand-made vessels.
Courtney and I went to IKEA yesterday–the second time this month. I don’t know what it is about that store but I can never leave without a full shopping cart. I went in for extra drawer pulls and walked out with towels, kitchen storage containers, door mats, wood hangers and a bunch of other impulse buys. Eric is so good, he doesn’t even flinch anymore when I come home with a full trunk. I think somewhere in the back of his mind he’s thankful it was IKEA and not some antique store.
Courtney and Peter spent 2 weeks in Africa while Eric and I were paying our respects to Little Rock. (So unfair!) I scanned a bunch of her photographs last night. These were two of my favorite.
I supose I should give an update of our moving plans. Since we couldn’t get Congress to approve changing Eric’s date of departure, I’m going to leave May 22nd to pick up the Volvo, drive to Little Rock (via the Lineberry’s to see their newly adopted baby) and close on the house. Eric and the boys will follow on June 2nd. Now all we have to worry about is packing up and that date should be resolved by today. I just hope it’s soon. If I’m going to be without everything for 2 months, I’d like to get it over with now while we still have friends to beg and borrow from.
Last day to cash in, one way or another, all your ‘black money’ before the Euro is the only legal currency. The press seems to feel the need to keep reminding people of this, in case they didn’t already know.
I sent Casey and Tim (our old travelling companions who moved back to Alabama last summer) some flowers from Martha’s Flowers last week to celebrate thier adorable adopted daughter. I ordered 20 stems of these really cheerful pale pink Gerbera daisies. She called to thank me the other day and after we chatted about everything else under the sun, she mentioned again how generous I had been. Finally, it came out the she had received 60 stems. Right on, Martha! I have the best accidental luck when I order things from Martha. Every so often, I’ll get something I didn’t order, and most importantly, didn’t pay for. When I call they always say, “Sorry about that, go ahead and keep it.” That would make a great advertising campaign. “Order today! And if we screw up and send you something expensive you didn’t order… it’s on us!”
Eric left Wednesday for his interviews in Portland and Cincinnati. I get to sleep for more than a week without earplugs. (Have to look on the bright side, don’t I?)
New Year’s Predictions for 2002 . . .
1. Something will get broken or stolen when we move and the insurance will be more than I paid for it.
2. I will be in better physical shape than Eric this year.
3. Ben and Janet’s family members will disown them if they name their baby Thor.
4. Penelope will not change her name from Cruz to Cruise.
5. Buying our first home will be a totally satisfying experience.
My organization frenzy has escalated to a new level by the appearance of the label maker. I picked up some really hip clear plastic accordion files Tuesday when I was in France. I also brought home some unusual cellophane wrapping paper (my usual compulsion coming over me) and an acid-free bound watercolor paper book. These little purchases keep me from running around like a madwoman buying last minute antiques.
Courtney and I jumped in the car this morning and blasted off to the Christmas market in Strasbourg (France.) But before we strolled off to the outdoor market (it was raining), we detoured through several patisseries, bookstores, etc. and came out loaded with pastries and hand-made paper and ribbon for wrapping presents. I almost bought a $200 black beret until I came to my senses.
The outdoor market was a little disappointing, until we stopped for a crêpe. We must have passed 8 or 9 crêperies until finally we couldn’t stand it any more. It was meant to be because the one we chose to stop at was owned by the most delightful family. The man was quite the comedian and not only did he talk me into a banana et chocolate-noix crêpe (with plenty of sugar and a splash of Grand Marnier) but he tried to talk me into taking his son, Nicolas, home with me. “He’s very useful . . . he can do your dishes . . . he can make the beds . . . you can eat crêpes for every meal . . .” And he couldn’t decide where the heck I was from because he kept switching from French to German to French and back to German. It was so charming.
The cathedral in Strasbourg rivals any I’ve seen in Europe. I can’t believe that in a few months I won’t be able to take little day trips into France.