The Seventh Sphinx

I sense a tenderness in my distaste toward my winter flab.

I’ve been taking the stairs.

I want an eggcup.

In some cases I want my dishes to be plain and serviceable, no big designs or corrugated, elaborate rims on plates, that kind of thing. But I like there to be that variation that rises naturally out of gradual and whimsical acquisition (necessarily requiring time and patience), such that some pieces match one another but not all the rest, or don’t precisely match at all yet reflect a consistent underlying principle of acquisition. All this to say I want an eggcup with some rustic little handpainted something on it (some flowers or a stripe), in a German or Scandanavian style, and maybe ultimately a friendly jumble of stoneware and porcelain (one must have more than one eggcup, no? If one has any at all…). In this case I feel strongly that no single eggcup should match another.

[browsing….browsing…several weeks pass…et voilà]

Finland. My first eggcups are from Finland. I think it a very good beginning.

Likely I have spent too much on them but I am being good (5 days of goodness!), and may justify luxury gifts in this way (there is always a way). And what could be more luxurious than Finnish ceramics? There is something about these eggcups that expresses humble authority; the last word in eggcups. Could there be any doubt that they will suit all of my needs? There could not.

I felt compelled to get two, though I am only one. A proof of my excellent intention to someday share … it is inviting, this future of shared eggs. Could there be a better symbol of domestic harmony?

I wonder what other objects are in this future. A waffle iron? Grapefruit spoons? I really do want some grapefruit spoons.

This generic stocking cap/beanie has been sitting in my closet for years, forgotten (why did I ever get it in the first place?), but I came across it on a bad hair day recently and what do you know, I like it. It has the effect [like baldness, or very short hair, or a swimming cap] of isolating and so throwing a spotlight on the face, which results in a whole new set of instincts about presentation. Namely, I want to wear unprecedented volumes of eyeliner.

After years of passively owning both the stocking cap and this cute little whale patch (which I think I got when I was 10 or so, and have somehow preserved all this time), I finally happened to think of them both in the same moment, gathered needle and thread (I sewed a thing!), and lo, a new and improved hat was born.

Theorize that part of me has the precise aesthetic appreciation of a little Korean girlchild*.

*Exhibit A: my current cellphone charm is a stuffed baby turtle:

I want to wear it all the time now, provided eyeliner. And black eyeliner, too, which I almost never wear. Like so:

I like accessories like this; something slightly out of my normal style range that inspires me not to look like myself and to experiment with entirely new patterns. Thus expanding my range and allowing for still greater expansion.

The only thing is, once I put it on, I am committed. Can’t really take it off…disaster underneath. [This is the trouble with hats, for me. Also my head is kind of big?]

Still, satisfying to have raised a dormant object up into a state of usability.

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crafted: patched beanie