Terms I use too often:

Yay!
Woohoo!
Happy!
Hehehe...

Indication: I should be more creative.

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Terms I use too often:

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Happy Birthday, Mom!!!!!! :)

This is probably one of my favorite pair of shoes so far....


ITC Kuningan sequin jacket and foil top, Zara leopard-print tights, Sox House black socks, Belle lace-up shoes
(background image from here)


If you're interested in getting a pair or more for yourself, find Belle shoes at:


STC Senayan

1st floor, no. 67/70
Jakarta Selatan


Good night, all!! I'll perhaps sleep with these shoes on hehehhe....;p

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Happy Birthday, Mom!!!!!! :)

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Birdie Call

For four mornings running I awoke to the sounds of birds singing and emerged from my bed with thoughts of spring and sunshine on my mind. What I actually discovered was...something else entirely. We are still mired in the grey and gloom so characteristic of this month and have also enjoyed a few freeze/thaw/rain cycles which have gifted us with significant mud to boot. Not exactly what those singing birds promised. Maybe I dreamed of them? It wouldn't be the first time my delusions came with aural manifestations.

Still. Spring may be some time away yet but a girl's got to plan. In odd moments I'll jot a recipe here, an idea for a new hot pepper garden there or a maybe a reminder to buy gingham for sundresses on the corner of an invoice. I've found myself daydreaming of blackberry picking while, say, in a meeting most definitely not about such things. Last summer I didn't have nearly as much fun as I might have and I am determined to right that old wrong. Bread will be baked! Flowers will be planted! That old annoying yew? The dying/dead one? Along the front walk? Will be removed!

Work will be nuts, of course, with the news that my employer, an enormous company, is being bought by an even bigger one. What will this mean? I have no idea. There are the usual family worries, well worn, plus a few new ones that I'd just as soon not visit us. But there they are nonetheless. There will be bills and deadlines and annoyances in spades - things that make it all too easy to retreat from personal plans and goals. I will have to work hard to remind myself that the sun still will come up regardless of my employment status, the birds (not imagined ones, at that) will sing no matter how many meetings on my calendar and that gingham sundresses for one's daughter don't exactly sew themselves even when the family is completely happy and hale. I will have to work to remember that the meetings and expenses and errands and sorrow will always be with us, in one form or another, and that it's my responsibility to give them no more due than absolutely required.

Easy promises to make, harder to keep. I'd better get started.

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Birdie Call

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Pink, Grey and Black

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Pink, Grey and Black

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Chocolate High Sounds So Nice

Again, Gricia kindly sent me some gifts and this time they're black patterned tights & block leggings...woohoooooo!! So I guess my love for tights and leggings is that obvious...;p Thanks, dear...I TOTALLY love them...:)

Do wait for my gift in return! :D

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Chocolate High Sounds So Nice

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Lethal Weapon

Woohoo!! My own pair of Converse Weapon shoes straight from the factory!! :D


This only pair was still a sample and fortunately came in my size…if you’re living in Indonesia, make sure you make friends with people who work in factories heheh…shoe manufacturers often sell their samples at extremely low prices (e.g Nike, Converse, Adidas, Puma etc.) and often in limited-edition designs…and when you have a friend there, no doubt you’ll always be the first one to know about it….oh boy, the wonders of networking ;p
.

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Lethal Weapon

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The March Hare

I am not going to belabor how much I hate February. I refuse. I will only say that for a short month is has a heck of a long list of offenses to answer for. How does one month become so terrifically ambitious in the dismay and mayhem department? It boggles the mind.

Beyond the regular old economic news which, honestly, is like background noise at this point (futures? oil? jobs? it's all almost quaint) my own rather quotidian worries have been rather rapidly overtaken by events that, if made into a movie or a book, no one would ever believe. Typical of my incredible good fortune, these things don't happen to me, rather they happen around me, to those to whom I am to closest. I'd rather they didn't happen at all, of course, but I suppose that's an unrealizable request.

On Friday, when news of the crash of Flight 3407 started filtering into the news, friends and colleagues started saying things like, "Oh, I heard Buffalo and thought about your family but then realized that the town isn't that small What are the odds?" My response? You'd be surprised.

Clarence Center is a difficult place to describe to suburbanites accustomed to towns that run into one another in one unceasing flow of buildings and cars. Clarence Center abuts my hometown of Williamsville, New York, more or less. In between the towns there is a ruralish, sparsely-populated area and then you come to the hamlet of Clarence Center. Three, maybe four blocks long, there's a church, a coffee house, a gift shop, a bank and a firehouse. And an elementary school. The cross streets - the few of them there are - are almost entirely residential but for a contractor here or a day care center there. It's a short drive out of town into the horse, dairy and green bean farms. It's the kind of town people think about when they talk about those all-American places that Norman Rockwell might have painted.

It's surreal enough that a place I know so well, even after being away longer than I lived there as a child, was involved in something so awful and completely random and weird. The thing is, my sister lives in Clarence Center, about 100 yards from the single house that was destroyed. She now shows identification to a sheriff's deputy to return to her home after work or errands. She has described the smell in the air, one that promises to get worse before it gets better. My niece takes cover under the dining room table when a plane or helicopter is heard in the sky (just a few miles from the airport, this is not an infrequent event). The good men of the firehouse next door are doing their best to assist the federal departments that have descended, trying to do what they can before the next snow blows in mid-week.

My sister, and the town, are hurting. Survivor guilt is the talk of the day and veterans in the area speak knowingly of PTSD. There's little I can do but be as understanding as possible in that thoroughly insufficient way of someone who isn't there, hearing the crackles of the still-smoldering fire, who isn't organizing grief counseling for the many school kids who live on that block, who isn't wondering how to begin to talk about something so totally, horrifyingly random and from which there is no protection.

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The March Hare

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Too tired to even think of a title

Spent the whole day LAUGHING...:D


Topshop plaid shirt & leather pants, Mango pink shirt, Zara grey t-shirt, unbranded shoes

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Too tired to even think of a title

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