Tuesday, June 28, 2011
dirty little secrets of mine
I love 1940's women's clothing.
Men who wear eye glasses...hats are even better.
Corn dogs, grape soda, and being the first to jump in the lake just so I can get it over with.
Real picnics in the park, the kind that last all day.
The sound of trains moving in the night.
Cold sheets, year round.
Watching cats watching dogs.
Homemade bread with loads of butter & dripping with honey.
I love clotheslines.
Coffee, cloves, & ginger.
The idea of ironing but not the actual act of it.
Hot showers on sunburns.
Old children's books.
Aprons and smocking.
Vintage embroidery and barns.
The sound of water lapping on the shore... against the side of a boat is even better; better than hats on men with glasses.
Watching cable TV in a hotel room.
Chinese jump rope, 4-square, and hop scotch.
The feel a house takes on when children are napping.
The points on new crayons.
The sound of Paul Harvey's voice.
Stripes, the idea of them not the actual wearing of.
Blackboards filled with organic chemistry.
The sudden appearance of a friend through a crowd.
Blue and more blue.
The sound of running away under my own power.
I find the smell of wet concrete intoxicating.
And I like the sound of the back drop noises in Soap Operas: ice in a glass, a coffee cup set on a saucer, a door bell, a phone ringing, noises of housewives who don't seem to have kids or jobs they have to stay at, or laundry to do.
I like sitting out back in the field in the middle of the day pretending I am the only person on earth...when that gets too lonely I pretend it away.