Wish.
Love? Me.
Never! Wait! Always.
Dark Spirit. Love. Tamed.
Yes, No. No, Yes. Yes.
He came, he saw, I conquered.
C'mon, we all know how this ends.
Monday, March 28, 2016
Saturday, March 26, 2016
Thos Moser
The annual Thomas Moser, or Thos Moser, catalog arrived today. I've been paging through and admiring its wood furniture. Long ago, and several mailing addresses away, I remember wanting the Dr White's Chest, oh, so much! but it cost more than my first new car. Still, it has only gone up in price. We could have seen it as an investment.
A few years back I finally bought a big dresser from Big Lots. It's covered with dark cherry veneering that has scratched in a few places. It stores my clothes. And I don't have to worry about it being a legacy or anything. No kid's going to fight about it twenty years from now.
The item that caught my breath in this year's catalog is the Portland Chair. I'm not sure it would be comfortable to sit on. I do admire its design. Having just found the web photo to insert the link, I will say that it does look much better in the printed catalog. And on the designer's blog. I wonder what it's like in real life.
I searched through to see what the lowest priced item was--for amusement, and, OK, wondering if there was anything that we could afford. I found a 9 x 15 x 8 inch Crescent Stool, for only $210. "The size of a shoe-box," my husband says. "You could pay $500 and take a woodworking class and make lots of them."
Actually, they do teach woodworking at Thomas Moser, though they probably charge more than we'd be willing to pay these days. And your time is worth something. Just paying the $200 can save you a lot of trouble.
But my house is chaos. Thos Moser furniture is not the type that improves with scratches.
And I know I'll be sending in that $200 for this month's car payment.
I'm pretty sure Thos Moser got my mailing address from the New Yorker. Ironically, I cancelled the subscription last fall because we needed to save money. One of our cars was dying.
Maybe I'll just save the catalog as a design book, to look at now and then.
A few years back I finally bought a big dresser from Big Lots. It's covered with dark cherry veneering that has scratched in a few places. It stores my clothes. And I don't have to worry about it being a legacy or anything. No kid's going to fight about it twenty years from now.
The item that caught my breath in this year's catalog is the Portland Chair. I'm not sure it would be comfortable to sit on. I do admire its design. Having just found the web photo to insert the link, I will say that it does look much better in the printed catalog. And on the designer's blog. I wonder what it's like in real life.
I searched through to see what the lowest priced item was--for amusement, and, OK, wondering if there was anything that we could afford. I found a 9 x 15 x 8 inch Crescent Stool, for only $210. "The size of a shoe-box," my husband says. "You could pay $500 and take a woodworking class and make lots of them."
Actually, they do teach woodworking at Thomas Moser, though they probably charge more than we'd be willing to pay these days. And your time is worth something. Just paying the $200 can save you a lot of trouble.
But my house is chaos. Thos Moser furniture is not the type that improves with scratches.
And I know I'll be sending in that $200 for this month's car payment.
I'm pretty sure Thos Moser got my mailing address from the New Yorker. Ironically, I cancelled the subscription last fall because we needed to save money. One of our cars was dying.
Maybe I'll just save the catalog as a design book, to look at now and then.
Friday, March 25, 2016
Did the wicked angel win?
It was in All of a Kind Family that I first heard the story of the good and wicked Sabbath Angels, though I have heard the story since then, so it is a verified part of the culture.
On Friday evenings, every Jewish home is visited by a pair of angels: one good and one wicked. If the candles are lit and everyone gathered and celebrating the Sabbath, the good angel is happy and prays "May it always be thus." Then the wicked angel has to swallow its snarls and say "Amen."
But if Sabbath is not being observed, then the wicked angel gets to gloat and curse "May it always be thus." And the poor weeping good angel must also say "Amen."
Well, usually in my home, the wicked angel has been winning. There were times, when the kids were in Jewish preschool, and brought home little baked challahs on Friday, and before I started working an hour's drive south (sans traffic) when we would do the entire Sabbath, more or less as done in my childhood. OK, without my Dad's no-bluejeans rule, and I admit, always skipping Grace After Meals (because it is so long.)
But one week ago Thursday, I was shopping in Trader Joe's, and saw, bought and brought home a bag of challah rolls. Friday, after dark, I came home, and the candles were lit, the challah under a napkin, the kosher grape juice & glasses at the ready.
We sang Shalom Aleichem. I sang Aishes Chayal. I blessed the children. We all sang the kiddush, with my dad's version of the tune. We washed our hands, said the blessing. We said the blessing over the challah. As I lifted the cloth napkin off of the challah, a paper napkin that had been on top of the cloth one for who knows what reason floated off--right into the path of the lit Shabbos candles.
"Jesus!" exclaimed the older kid. The napkin floated past the flame.
I scolded her: "You wrecked it! Now we've got to start all over again."
The children's Catholic dad was sitting out all the ceremony, at his computer. We ran to tell him what happened. His take: "Invoking the True Lord's name obviously saved our house from burning down."
Oh well. I bought another bag of challah rolls at Trader Joe's last night. Let's see what happens tonight.
On Friday evenings, every Jewish home is visited by a pair of angels: one good and one wicked. If the candles are lit and everyone gathered and celebrating the Sabbath, the good angel is happy and prays "May it always be thus." Then the wicked angel has to swallow its snarls and say "Amen."
But if Sabbath is not being observed, then the wicked angel gets to gloat and curse "May it always be thus." And the poor weeping good angel must also say "Amen."
Well, usually in my home, the wicked angel has been winning. There were times, when the kids were in Jewish preschool, and brought home little baked challahs on Friday, and before I started working an hour's drive south (sans traffic) when we would do the entire Sabbath, more or less as done in my childhood. OK, without my Dad's no-bluejeans rule, and I admit, always skipping Grace After Meals (because it is so long.)
But one week ago Thursday, I was shopping in Trader Joe's, and saw, bought and brought home a bag of challah rolls. Friday, after dark, I came home, and the candles were lit, the challah under a napkin, the kosher grape juice & glasses at the ready.
We sang Shalom Aleichem. I sang Aishes Chayal. I blessed the children. We all sang the kiddush, with my dad's version of the tune. We washed our hands, said the blessing. We said the blessing over the challah. As I lifted the cloth napkin off of the challah, a paper napkin that had been on top of the cloth one for who knows what reason floated off--right into the path of the lit Shabbos candles.
"Jesus!" exclaimed the older kid. The napkin floated past the flame.
I scolded her: "You wrecked it! Now we've got to start all over again."
The children's Catholic dad was sitting out all the ceremony, at his computer. We ran to tell him what happened. His take: "Invoking the True Lord's name obviously saved our house from burning down."
Oh well. I bought another bag of challah rolls at Trader Joe's last night. Let's see what happens tonight.
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