I like my hair to submit to MY will, not the other way around.
I savored this moment of tranquility before the onslaught of visitors, this moment to stare at the sleeping baby in the transparent bassinet and contemplate that she was mine. She of the long Disney lashes and big gray-blue eyes. She of the startling lungs. It all seemed as improbable as if there had been some mythical stork involved, or some benevolent fairy godmother. The events of Sunday (and very early Monday morning) felt like a dream–albeit one in which no detail was lost to me.
Question: how many people does it take to stuff a voluminous wedding dress into a modest carry-on suitcase? Answer: two, if one is unsentimental and can bear the agony of rolling, folding, and crushing the garment into a form one-quarter of its original size while the other watches in horror. The non-sentimental character in this …
"It’s less than exhilarating, my existence here. Friends have moved on, to engagements and new cities. My old jobs are positively vintage, inaccessible. What’s left is family and this old house where each creak of the floorboards is familiar. In a world so full of noise, this kind of quiet feels almost radical."
"I wasn’t looking for eligible bachelors, but married Frenchmen with children. In other words, I was the newest addition to Au Pair World dot com."
Travel by gondola: a centuries-old tradition that is in no way vital to the city's operations...but surely vital to its heart.
It's interesting what we block out when we dream of or anticipate a place. We must ignore the great unspooled ribbon of mind-numbing highway. The ugly big-box stores. The cloud cover that renders a day as colorless as a lump of pizza dough. Sometimes I think we reserve those kinds of stringent observations for home: to criticize what we are used to and tired of.