the girl with the pearl earring

With two exceptions, all of the jewelry I own is total junk. Like, bought it at Claire's for under $6 junk. One exception is the claddagh ring my mother brought back from Ireland for me. It's silver with an emerald stone and a few small diamonds framing the setting. I absolutely adore it. Probably moreso than anyone should ever love a bauble. But in addition to being the first truly nice piece of jewelry I owned in my adulthood, it's coincidentally also the same ring my best friend, Julie, also got in Ireland, which only makes me love it more. The other nice piece of jewelry I own is a string of pearls that my dear friend Bex far too generously brought back from China for me. They're stunning and absolutely my go-to accessory in the Publishing World.

But all of my other jewelry? Junk.

Because I am relentlessly classy, I often pair my breathtakingly gorgeous pearl necklace with a pair of totally-faux pearl earrings that I got in a set of three for under $6 from, yes, Claire's. I'm sorry, but it's true. This was the medium pair in the set, and my favorite. The others are both far too small and way too large for my liking.

I have a pouch on my dresser that is currently serving as a catchall for my junk jewelry (I do actually take care of my two nice pieces. Shocker!) but the other night after brushing my teeth and washing my face to get ready for bed, I took off my cheap, cheap, cheap plastic pearl earrings and set them on the side of the sink.

You already know where this is going, don't you?

I was exhausted, and so David had to sort of wake me up when he came to bed after brushing his teeth.

"S'matter?" I slurred.

"I am so sorry," he said.

"Mmmhuh?"

"I dropped one of your earrings down the sink. I'm so, so sorry. I feel terrible."

I reassured him that the earrings were in no way real pearls and that there was nothing to feel terrible about. "I don't care," I mumbled as I rolled over and almost immediately fell back to sleep. "It's fine, honey. Don't worry about it."

But David did worry about it.

In fact, he surprised me the next evening when he came home with this great score (under $6!) from Target. (Ok, so it's not Claire's but I'm not picky).

Is my guy a sweetheart or what? Now I don't have to stress about which earrings to wear with my pearls when I finally get a job. Or, you know, while I'm folding laundry around the house tomorrow. Whichever.

apartment tour

A hill is a house for an ant, an ant.

A hive is a house for a bee.
A hole is a house for a mole or a mouse
And a house is a house for me!

-A HOUSE IS A HOUSE FOR ME by Mary Ann Hoberman

A HOUSE IS A HOUSE FOR ME is one of the picture books I remember vividly from my childhood. Even now I can recite impressive chunks of it from memory and some of the illustrations are preserved perfectly in my mind.

For some time now I've been planning to show you my house. Or at least, the one I'm living in at the moment. But, you know, taking a lot of pictures of a basement apartment requires good light (you'll see I compromised a bit on this one, but a gifted photographer I am not!) and a lot of time and energy. And getting all of those things at once can be tricky!

I knew, though, that when I did get around to making this post I'd want to quote Mary Ann Hoberman's book. In fact, I've had that quote typed up and sitting in an otherwise empty blogger draft for weeks now.

Would you like to see where we live?

This is Aunt Katie and Tim's house. They are generous enough to let us live in their basement apartment while we get on our feet!

They built this incredible fire pit. It's so awesome to sit out by the fire at night.

This is the view from our front door.

Inside, the front door leads to our kitchen!

This is where the magic happens, baby!

Sometimes, I look out the window when I do dishes, and I see cows.

Really. Cows. See?

If you come over for dinner (and you know you want to) this is where you'll be sitting.

Hello, lover.

We're in the frozen tundra, here, so we have a lot of sweatshirts and coats and jackets at our fingertips.

Because I am a lucky, lucky girl I get to wear David's old hockey jacket when my own hoodies just won't do the trick.

The livingroom is where we spend most of our time.

I LOVE this little stove. At night when it's cold---even under an afghan--we light a little fire while we read and listen to music. Blissful!

And we're always reading. (Catch a glimpse of PW's cookbook? More on that in the future!)

I approve of David's bookmark!

This is the livingroom window.

The view can be really breathtaking.

Oooooh!

Hi guys!

On to the bedroom!

We even have a guest room!

Here's some pictures of the surrounding area. These views are pretty everyday for me. I see them on my way to job interviews, on my way to the farmers' market, on my way to :::cringe::: Walmart...

Stunning scenery!

And that's where we live! Definitely a big change from New York City. A big change from the suburbs of Massachusetts, even. We're so lucky to have family out here helping us out and giving us an amazing place to stay! We'll never be able to thank you enough. Truly!

(I've got to admit though, that I still miss the ocean something fierce).