I am fully aware of the futility of saying things like "Sorry I've been an absent blogger lately" and "I swear I'll be better". Most of the time when I read things that that on other blogs, I'm not even aware that they've been posting any less than usual. As much as it pains me to say, a lack of posting generally means I'm happy and busy with, you know, things not involving a computer. My interest and commitment to internet has been waning. Real life can be so.... enticing? Distracting? Exhausting?

Also, a few weeks back I found of that there is a certain subset of grown men who are obsessed with amputee girls (no matter how small the um.. loss?). The swarming hive found me and it's sort of turned me off blogging for a bit. All's rectified, the point of entry had been taken down, but it still makes me feel a little uncomfortable. Talking about it makes it more bemusing/bizarre and less terrifying. Sorry Dad. Just needed to get that off my chest.


We're on to blizzard number 2 in Brooklyn and I've been making soup like it's my job. I finally bought a shovel to dig out my car and I'd probably still be spinning my tires if I hadn't gotten a 20 minute coaching session from a older Russian man who, through my rolled down window, gave me his philosophy on driving in the snow. When a man with a beard and a Russian accent tells you about snow, you listen.


My neighborhood is charming. Full of characters- hipsters and grandparents and tony soprano types. We all share one thing in common and one thing only. Vinyl siding. Sometime in the 1960s, everyone got together and decided to cover every house on every block with it. My house is 100 years old and it has it. So does everyone else's.


But the snow makes even vinyl siding look delicious. It turns a neighborhood with a face only a mother could love into a John Hughes movie set, but with more cultural diversity and higher rents. Girls with snowflakes and pinks cheeks are helped out by boys wielding shovels. Snow gets pushed into mountains and I get an excuse to sit in bed on a Saturday night. Cynics will be cynics, but I refuse to stop loving the snow.

The Mercer

About a month ago, my big sister and I drove 2 hours to Doylestown, Pa. to go to the Mercer Museum for the first time. We got stupidly lost after stopping at Terrain and pulled up 10 minutes after it closed. There may or may not have been tears, foot stamping and devastation all around.

The Mercer
On my day off last week (shock! joy! I had a day off!) I made it back to the Mercer and finally got to poke around. It's a history museum devoted tools and products used in early American crafts, trades and occupations. Basketry, meat preservation, coopering, cheese making, leather working, spinning, lumbering, medicine, solar salt harvesting, glass blowing and 45 other unbelievable exhibits- each in its own small alcove.

The Mercer

The Mercer

The Mercer

The Mercer

The Mercer

The Mercer

The Mercer
I was really overwhelmed. I've never been to a place like it and was basically floating on air for 2 hours. The museum isn't heated and we could see our breath while inside, otherwise I could have stayed weeks. Months. Years. All of eternity. Bury me inside the hearse and coffin exhibit on the 3rd floor, please.
Valentines Day has been all consuming this year. Funny, my first year without a real valentine in, gag, 9 years and I've been up to my neck in beautiful flowers and chocolate and paper hearts made from 1870s wallpaper. Working in the love business will do that.


It's actually been very sweet to help boys all over the city give flowers to the girls they love. Luckily I'm not the bitter type, so I've been thoroughly enjoying my small peaks into other's relationships, while secretly feeling relieved to be alone these days.


That being said, I did receive my first ever box of beautiful chocolates from a nice boy to whom I'm not related. A chocolate cameo. I blushed. I'm always blushing a little bit, I think.









The flowers at the shop this weekend were some of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. For all of my satisfaction with my situation, oh gosh... I did slip off into dreams of receiving some of the arrangements we sent out the door. Sweetest and simplest of all were the antique medicine bottles with a single stem and a rex begonia leaf, tied with a silk ribbon.

Hoping your day was as full of beauty and love as mine- borrowed or otherwise.

Little House in the City

Here is undeniable proof from the 3rd grade, that, indeed, I've always been like this. It's poster sized. I think the hand drawn USA stamp is a nice touch.







Dear Laura,

I understand you have been very busy for the past 18 years since I first wrote. I was really sad I never heard back from you, but I've gotten over it. Just wanted to let you know what a big impact your books had on me as a child. I remember lying in bed and just reveling in the knowledge that a salted ham wouldn't rot. I also hoarded half and half's from 7-11, shaking them all the way to school and wondering why they never turned to butter.

Thanks for that.

Love,
Amy