When Precious White Kitties Attack!

We've been having a bit of a raccoon problem at the ol' hacienda-- they've chewed a hole in one of the eaves, and we frequently hear them ambling around the heating and cooling ducts. Just yesterday, I saw Mama Raccoon leading three (yikes, yes, three) baby raccoons up our wall into the eave. As cute as the little baby raccoon trills are, I know that there could be rabies in them thar 'coons.

Our cat, Stella, likes to hang out on the porch at night and watch them. We decided to sit and watch with her tonight to see if we could catch another glimpse of the raccoon family... watch with us...



I have to tell you that as we were watching this I experienced a range of conflicting emotions from fear to "Awww!" to "Egads!" I'm glad to know kitty can hold her own against a baby raccoon, but as far as Mama goes, we better start bringing her in at night!

Yours,

Elissa.

Sick (like cool, but also like ill).

So, maybe I do need to get all those vitamin supplements, post-workout drinks and protein bars that P90-X shills because after 5 weeks of working out super-hard 6 days a week, I am run-down! Therefore, I am hunkered down on our electric teal couch with a 32 oz bottomless mug of diet root beer and a laptop-full of Foto Decadent.

Here, my immediate favorite find of the day, a David LaChapelle shoot with a Cher-tastic Christina Aguilera for Vogue Italia in 2003.

If I were getting married in winter, this would be my inspirational photo.

If I weren't so attached to my current blog header, I would probably replace it with this image of Christina Aguilera as the Patron Saint of the Spandex Pony.

When I see this photo, "Age of Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In" goes through my head.

Hey! Leave me a comment (or two) for me to warm myself by during this extended cold. I really do love them, and they're just the thing to restore a girl's spring in her step.

Yours,

Elissa.

Pirelli Girls.

Although I'm sure they stock many a thought-provoking tome, Half-Price Books is pretty much my destination for coffee table "reading". The Pirelli Calender 1964-1997 hitched a ride home with me on my last trip out. The Pirelli calender was Pirelli Tires' promotional girlie calendar that superceded your average "hot-girl" calender in terms of its artistic value and zeitgeisty-ness.

Richard Avedon snapped two years in the calendar, but the one that really caught my eye was 1972, shot by Sarah Moon. If you know Sarah's ethereal, water-colored fashion illustrations (want!), then you'll definitely recognize the following Gatsby-esque photos as hers (his).



And here am I today, taking my own soft-focus, vaguely 1920's turn in florals and polka-dots.

Blouse: thrifted. Skirt: thrifted. Shoes: MIA. Belt: Thrifted. Necklace: Thrifted. Hm!

I definitely consider myself a bit more Zelda than Daisy (read: hot mess), so I pat myself on the back for being able to sit so primly on what is more accurately a gigantic, rock-rimmed hole.

Til Next Time,

Elissa.

Oh, the things that I've seen!

Such a short vacation but completely chock-full of all that I needed: food, folks, and fun.

Day one was rather rained-out, but I wasn't at all discouraged from strutting around my old haunts (around the NYU campus).

Crazy knitted-heads-on-stakes in a window on Broadway.

I also got a haircut; nothin' major, but I needed the hands of an old, trusted stylist to start shaping my flappery bob thang into something a bit longer. Yes, gasp-- I'm going to grow 'er out.

A fellow patron's young son and his extremely bitchin' footwear.

Later in the day, as I stopped by the macrobiotic bodega near my brother's place to pick up a bottle of Peche Lambic for a dinner party at my brother's place, I spotted this young filly whose rained-out style begged for a photograph. Meaw.

Ankles? Wet. Neck? Dry.

The next day, I wandered through Central Park as I waited to meet my friend at the Park Avenue Armory.

Although I didn't pay admission, I did get to see some children's theater, seals, and cool sculptures. I also ate a mango with Valentina hot sauce, lemon juice and salt on it and I was pleased as hell.

We checked out the Ernesto Neto exhibit...


...a hand-knit world meant to evoke a body cavity, complete with uvulae containing spices like clove and lavender.

...and plastic balls.

Myself...

My dear lovely friend.

The Armory itself is a pretty rad old building... we busied ourselves by climbing up cordoned off stairs and ringing old mess bells.

Where few but vermin (and curators) dare go.

The stained glass ain't half bad, either.

Later, we went to hear a friend's band play back at Central Park, accompanied by Charlie, the young pup.

Me, the sweet pupper, and my shoes (Dolce Vita, and $11 on Amazon. For reals).

This guy rode by and I instantly craved cotton candy.


The day closed with dinner at Yuca Bar (uhhhmazing) with another old friend...

Pulled-pork stuffed plaintains make you pose smarmily.

The following short day involved a visit to a craft fair in McCarren Park...

I ended up with the magenta Skeledog shirt; my sweetay got the green Labrador one.

Followed by car-talk with these folks preparing a 1909 Maxwell for tomorrow (Tuesday)'s 100th year anniversary of the first woman's driver's license.

I still regret not begging a ride.

And I closed the day out by mourning over shoes that wouldn't fit in my luggage...

Oh, the brutal pain! -- of not having them, I mean!

The trip really was too damn short, but I'm glad to be back. And frankly, I'm glad I'm glad. When I moved to Ohio from New York, I was afraid that I'd never be glad to be back in Ohio after returning from a trip to NYC. But as it turns, life here, while considerably less full of knit heads on sticks, flivvers, and Roy Lichtenstein-inspired pumps is sweet nonetheless.

Yours,

Elissa.

Traveling!

By the end of Sunday, I will have done 1800 miles-plus of traveling this week. Twice to Cincinnati, and once to NYC (I'm going tomorrow).

Here, a visual ode to that ever-available, thirst-saving travel buddy, the gas-station convenience store.

On me: Tee: Target. Skirt: Thrifted. Magnifying Glass Necklace: Thrifted. Shoes: All Black via Amazon.

Gummi Worms, BigAz Burgers and Icees. My country 'tis of thee.

This time around, I'm coming strapped, technology-wise, to NYC, so I hope to be leaving a few updates while I'm there.

Also, little known fact: I tweet. Rabidly. Come follow me!

Yours,

Good times.

Have you ever driven 100 miles for a concert, only to discover that the concert was actually the very next day? Uhm, I have.

The other day, My Biscuit and I drove down to Cincinnati to see Fischerspooner. When we saw the rather bare-looking parking and incongruous marquee, we offered up a hearty "Damnit!" but rescued the day by hanging out in one of my favorite old Cincinnati haunts, Ault Park.

On Me: Tshirt: Urban Outfitters. Skirt: Thrifted. Shoes: Nine West.

The best thing about this park is that not only does it have this sweet Pantheon thing (in the background) on top of a hill, but the area surrounding it is divided into plots gardened by Plant Geniuses. My favorite plot is home to chrysanthemums that have been engineered to smell like lemon, rose, chocolate or coffee, depending, when you rub their leaves.

The next night, we drove down again, and were a bit more successful:

Hotness!!!

The costumes were awesome; I mean shheeet--- did you see that light-hat above?? The crowd, while small, was enthusiastic, delightfully dorky and --gasp of all gasps-- really into dancing. All told, I left sweaty and entertained.

I also left with a new respect for dance majors.

Yours,