Baby, I got it

I think we end Women’s History Month with the Queen of Soul singing her anthem “Respect”.

Amen.

 

 

Hauter than thou

One last set of photos from the ElsaSchiaparelli exhibition at le musée des Arts décoratifs last November. These are from the post-Schiap era, designs by the guy running the place these days, Daniel Roseberry.

The thing that struck me was how in tune Roseberry is with the spirit of Schiaparelli. I mean, take a look:

They are every bit as fantastic—as in fantasy-like—as her creations. Things you might have a hard time wearing to the company Christmas do, but in which you just might be able to make it up the staircase at the Met Gala. If you walked very, very carefully.

Also: he designed the frock Lady Gaga wore at Joe Biden’s inauguration.

Props, man.

 

Along the way

Well, okay—this is a bit of a change-up. Normally I see abandoned bicycles on my walks.

But the other morning, along the W&OD Trail, this:

I dunno.

 

 

Progress

Guy, guys—

Look at this!!!

 

Gratitude Monday: restarting

During my recovery from total knee replacement surgery, my sourdough starter died.

Well, okay, I killed it. Through neglect. I didn’t feed it for about four weeks because I could barely stand to look in my refrigerator (except to get some sparkling water), and I didn’t seem to have the energy to measure out starter, water and flour, much less to mix them.

So it died.

However—my friend LQ, who gave me my original starter back in 2019, saved the day. Last Friday, after she fed hers, she gave me enough of the discard to get my own going again. It seemed appropriate that I should return to the fount of my sourdough experience and begin again.

Here it is after having been fed and rested.

Pizzas and rolls coming up. And I’m so grateful to know that every time I take a bite, I’m tasting friendship.

 

 

Wild mountain rose

Our Women’s History Month earworm today comes from Trio, the 1987 collaboration between Emmylou Harris, Dolly Parton and Linda Ronstadt. Their voices blend on the harmonies like streams flowing into a river. And the message of “Wildflowers” reminds me of my BFF’s mantra: bloom where you’re planted.

 

Plus de Schiap

There were too many things to share about the Elsa Schiaparelli exhibition at musée des Arts décoratifs in one post. So here are some more pix.

Specifically, some of her gloves:

And some of her jewelry:

A lot of Schiap’s fashions sported elaborate embroidery; she worked for a number of years with Albert Lesage, whose hand-embroidered business is still alive in Paris (and runs an embroidery school). Here are a couple of examples:

 

 

Getting out

The sky was on fire the other morning when I went out for my walk.

Things like this are what keep me going out, even when the temps are low and there’s a cutting wind.

 

 

 

Oh, baby!

Back in December, this was one of the vanity plates I reported on:

At the time, I didn’t know what it meant. My yoga instructor, a Russian speaker, said it looked like Russian, “[P]ronounced ‘krochah’, with ch like in Scottish loch. Means baby although I have never heard this word before.”

Well, I replied that I’d been thinking Greek, so I looked it up by kludging the Greek alphabet into Google Translate:

However, Friday morning I spotted the car once again parked by the W&OD Trail, with someone in the driver’s seat. So I approached (though staying about two meters away). The window rolled down to reveal a blonde with distinctive Slavic cheekbones.

I asked if the license plate was Greek.

No.

Russian?

Yes.

So my instructor was right. Baby it is, and now she’s heard the word in use.

 

 

Gratitude Monday: finally

Eight weeks out from total knee replacement, on Friday I clocked 9100 steps and managed the child’s pose (mostly) in yoga. No pain meds (not even Tylenol) all day or overnight.

I think I’m glad I had the surgery.