Small Delights

It happens this time every year. There it sat in my stack of mail like a shining beacon of crystalline filtered light. Upon waking up today, I was greeted by the gorgeously cheerful cover of the once-a-year, fantasy-filled gift guide from Neiman Marcus, known to the rest of the world as the index of ridiculously unattainable items. I must admit, I so look forward to perusing the glossy pages of covetable things and this year was no different than its predecessors. Repeat after me, Neimans never disappoints.

What my fascinator might look like had

I accepted my invite to the royal wedding

I can't help but wonder if any of these items actually get purchased (and if so by whom?). Is this simply a catalog to delight the senses and ignite desire in the hearts of those of us who consider things like a cashmere sweater and a new passport cover proper gifts? Whatever it's purpose, the thrill of having the year's most luxurious and exotic offerings so enticingly close to your fingertips is almost intoxicating.

Hacker-Craft Speedboat, $250,000



2011 Dream Folly Fantasy Room

 inspired by the classic 1960s TV show,

 I Dream of Jeannie

$75,000

Coffee finished and perusing complete, my mind is a flutter with all things beautiful. As my thoughts flirt with the idea of what it would be like to receive a speedboat or dancing fountain under the tree, I think of the things in my life that make me truly happy. While stepping inside another world can be inspiring, the things that I laugh at the hardest or remember the most vividly somehow are always quite simple. As my mind races ideas for gifting others this year, I've decided to take a closer look at my personal "Fantasy Gift" guide for inspiration. I've written a small memo of some of the best gifts I've ever received, and perhaps in doing so, will find modest inspiration...

A Few of My Favorite Things



1. First pair of cowgirl boots, age five.
2. Grandmother's rosary.
3. Bronze horse sculpture in remembrance of my first mare, Duchess.
4. Fifteen book-set of second edition Jane Austen works.
5. Photo compilation of fifteen years worth of memories created by my closest friend.
6. My Aunt Helen's golden horse broach, handed down to me from my parents.
7. The Barbie Dream Mansion, painstakingly assembled by my Father, 4 hours and counting.
8. Sterling bracelet inscribed with a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson.
9. Oil on canvas portrait of my Weimaraner and Norwich (never hurts having artists for mates.)
10. Cross stitched prayer from my Grandmother.

You'd never find any of these things gracing the shiny pages of Neiman's, but I wouldn't know what to charge for them if you could. They are afterall, priceless. This past Sunday, my good friend and I meandered the already holiday lit sidewalks. While we found many things to gush over in the windows, we walked away unscathed with nothing but lattes and a small replenishment of Creme de Mains from L'occitane. Again, the small delights.



The best part of the evening? Two glasses of chammpers. I rest my case.

So tell me, what are some of your most "favorite things" you have received?

A Hard Beginning Maketh a Good Ending

I've decided to take up a small space in a little corner of the world. Which seems unusual to me  as I've lost so many things this year, I've found myself purging more than hoarding. Mostly I've been eradicating the unnecessary; things of excess - sweaters, shoes, and some things that are a bit painful like pictures, and, well, pictures. But starting this, creating something, is a bit out of sync with the rest of my 2011.
                                                         

 emotional search and destroy

In the midst of all the healing, a very wise and well paid man once told me, "You are going to see some beautiful things, and some terrible things, but you haven't experienced either yet." (If his career in medicine doesn't pan out successfully he would make a brilliant shaman.) I've let that sink in ever since. When he first said those words I felt as though I was sixteen again, sitting on the edge of the same paper-lined observation chair in my knit school skirt, completely naive and immature to the inner-workings of the world. Haven't I experienced beauty? Haven't I seen terrible things?

AND Mickey Mouse Band Aids?!

After all I was sitting in that chair for a very good reason, to seek  prescription solace from said terrible things. How was it that he didn't seem to be counting this experience as part of his prediction? After much deliberation I believe I now know why. In many ways, crisis returns you to the present to illuminate how real fulfillment can only happen when you remain open to the experience. Perhaps I've seen beautiful things, perhaps I've seen terrible things. But I haven't seen them through eyes fully opened.

Abre los ojos