"Is this the ear you can't hear on?"

She leans in and whispers softly, "I will love you 'til the day I die."

Ps. But I'm pretty sure death has no power over love.

quick note on rip van winkle, the faulty concierge, and fire breathing dragons

It is fun to people watch. There is this lady here at work, who swear on a stack of the Holy Word went to sleep in 1984 and woke up just recently in 2000's. Everything about her says eighties. It is actually quite awesome. We were amused to think of what she mows her lawn in...possibly leg warmers and neon leotards. Oh Rip Van Winkle, she is awesome.

OCD. I think that might be it. There is a man that stands at the door almost everyday. If you get there early enough, you might just witness it. As soon as you swipe your ID, he feigns as though he will open the door for you...but you quickly realize he has no such intentions. I'm not mistaken when I say chivalry is still appreciated, and at first glance this guy seems to kill it with a gigantic antibacterial sword. In the end, you must open the door for yourself and watch anxiously for his fake door hold for the next soul to pass through (and by fake I mean hold up his hand making sure there is at least a safe distance of 5 inches between his hand and the door or just give it a bit of a kick).

Now, I'm gazing at this wonderfully rendered dragon my nephew drew for me.

PS. I've been sewing alot lately. I shall have to post about it.

it's a bloody mess...that shark week is...

At work now...thought I should show some of what inspires me daily. Messy desktop of course covering my beautifully painted Mary Blair view (of the lagoon on the Neverlands). The salad fest image is amazing right? One day here at the compound, we were discussing our slight obsession with Shark Week. Of course, I completely geeked out with goblin sharks and giant squid, seeing as how I used to want to be a marine biologist (which is absolutely absurd since I cannot find the courage to go further than knee deep into the ocean for fear of rogue animals on the prowl...thanks Discovery Channel). Anyhow, someone saw fit to make a cheesy poster incorporating our love of Shark Week for this salad fest lunch thing we had to attend. I thoroughly appreciate the gesture.

dance little one

The lost soul neighborhood cats used to romp outside my window every summer evening. Unbearable. I hated it then because there was never any solace for sleep. But now? I would take to listening to Boo Radley, Scurvy, and Rickets at any chance over the sound of the winter wind's residue that is currently whipping around my eves.

Surrender. Balconies and sonnets. Sunny days and toads. Dress up clothes and dancing.

I think I write too much about the dear little ones in my life, but I cannot help it. They make me laugh so...when I really need to. I have discovered my niece is the most agreeable dancer. She trips around most advantageously in her princess shoes to almost any song (she gets embarrassed when I bust out my "running man" or my tag-team invention of the "double dutch" which I try to get Jay in on...but he gets rather bashful too).

Anyways, I cannot wait for sun and no more snow and slip n slide. And dancing is quite fun too.

Main Entry. Bradford House Akron, Ohio some time yesteryear past.

He was a good old fellow. Watchmaker. Gardener extordinaire. Bee keeper and pruner of the fruit trees. Sam, my great grandfather, trusty wielder of a rusty pocket knife the foe of any sweet apple nearby. My great grandmother, fashionably vintage, even for her time. Pack rat of old things treasured. I have her mink stole and a beautiful barrel back desperately needing of upolstery (supposedly haunted because Teeny used to bark at it but I don't care). I get my love of antiques from her. She was part of the garden club and would host tours of one of my favorite places in the area, Stan Hywet Hall, my once slate floored dream tudor mansion. Superstitious and odd alike the Bradford clan from the old hills of Tennessee produced a firstborn, my grandfather, pride of their reticent souls and brilliant beyond brilliant devourer of all books everywhere. First preacher boy from the gates of a historic fast growing baptist church in Akron he was, and we miss him greatly. He was the only one that could make our twig arrows shoot from our branch bows. And he would always make me homemade peach cobler because he knew it was my favorite.

Sorry for the nostalgia and sentimentals. I believe I do feel as such since we have been living here for some time. And story has it that Sam hid a rather large treasure somewhere in the basement that even the old neighbors have speculated upon for several years now. Anyhow, I have enlisted the help of my partners in crime (Abigail...niece...and Jaydon...nephew) and we plan an excavation of the fruit cellar once the weather breaks this spring to find said treasure. I believe the fruit cellar to be the most likely of places. I love a good egg hunt.

None of my art today. Working on something big though. I shall have to post my niece's little monsters on here. She is only 3 years old and draws me the sweetest little creatures because she knows I love them. "Where's Aunt Alwie...is she here...I have more monstwers for her." 


Those kids are so great. One day, as I was undoubtedly engrossed in one of those History Channel specials on Egyptian past that I love so (and Monster Quest...I really do love monsters), lil b (Abigail) started spouting off something she knew about sculptures as if she were speaking in tongues haha. Astonishing how smart kids are these days. It was as if she knew more about sculptures than the host on the History Channel.

today is brought to you by the number...

That is how old I am today. I suppose I should not admit that.

Bad luck I have on wishes, but one good thing to come...Number One Pho to you I will pay a visit quite soon! My favorite meal...mmm pho!

I would leave an old Irish saying of glad tidings and the like, but that'll do not to speak of wishes this year. Broke another mirror, you see. Plus, I've got a little bit of Cherokee in my blood from the old days in the hills of Tennessee, so I've heard...and don't know any Cherokee proverbs.

Anyhow, another year under the belt.

allie

in the waiting room with ceREAL monsters

So the other day I had to get my car serviced. Apparently, its computer thought some kid's fingers were obstructing the driver's side window? Since there wasn't anything of the sort, of course, something had to be done. I didn't want my window finking out on the cold days. Anyhow, my mini mechanic's name was Frankenberry. No joke. Thinking that no one would believe it, I wanted so desperately to grab one of his business cards that were neatly stacked in front of me. I would have too had he not sniggered at my email address (the key gives it away)...kind of froze up hoping he did not see my face when I spotted his name. Nevertheless, as I sat waiting for them to defrag my car's computer and install the flux capacitor, I kept hoping Count Chocula would show up. To my disappointment, he never did.

Got a free car wash though.

allie

ps. Picked up a Punky Brewster dvd set (childhood hero). I wanted my niece to experience it firsthand. She always steals my Soleil Moon Frye autographed Punky Brewster doll (its worse for the wear...but the devil may care...dragged her everywhere when I was a tyke). What kind of aunt would I be if I didn't properly educate her on the acuteness of playing nice with others and the essentials of forming a unique style with which to accessorize each outfit accordingly?