Saturday, December 13, 2008

Grab your brass birdcage and put on your most delicate jewelry. I have a proposal for you.

OMG I think of things to blog about all the time, mostly in those moments when I'm drifting off to sleep at night and dreams intermingle with lucid thoughts. The result is something like this: "That's it, I should blog about my love of tomato-based condiments and then the dragon is eating that dog and the owner is screaming and the owner is a blind gym teacher." See? The first part was real, and the second part was a dream creeping in.

But of course now, when I finally sit down after two weeks of very little creative productivity, I have nothing. Except this - a proposal:

Let's all go live in an Anthropologie catalog. Sounds amazing, right? You can bring the porcelain deer and three polite children wearing oversized galoshes. You, over there - you bring the tree house and the tea party and the hand-knit sweater with the owl-shaped buttons. Someone will need to volunteer to find a winter scene and a well-trained Italian Greyhound that isn't frightened of antique typewriters. I'll bring the whimsy. In the Anthropologie catalog, everyone uses perfect grammar and eschews modern amenities. Nothing is practical and everything is clever. I want to go there. You should come to, but be aware that you will have to leave your cares behind.

Are you in?

7 comments:

You can call me Lauren said...

I'm in, for obvious reasons. But instead of living like a Swedish writer locked up in a Victorian cottage until I finish my next five novels,aka an Antropologie catalogue, I choose to live in a Gorsuch catalogue. This way, in the winter, I am free to wear mini sweater dresses while I walk through the mountains wearing a coat made on English baby lamb and boots the color of dusty coyote. And before I go in to have dinner with my family, where my husband will be waiting for me in the study wearing his favorite plaid cashmere, silk grosgrain lapel dinner jacket, I will be tending to my horses wearing high heels and my favorite maria francesca riding jacket made of goat suede and a black belt. But have no fear, Catherine. As I sit on a fallen log with my family, two girls and one boy, in a snow covered field wearing matching dale of norway anniversary sweaters, my thoughts will be with you.

Catherine said...

That's fine. To each his own. But just so you know, while you and your ruggedly professorial husband are lying on a bearskin rug in your canvas luxury tent, feeding each other moose meat while your three children - two girls and one boy - nap in cedar bunk beds, I will be handing out fairy tales to all of my friends. And we'll read them aloud beneath the ghostly glow of a flickering Parisian street light. And we'll compare boots. And you won't be there.

You can call me Lauren said...

Oh, Catherine. Don't feel sad that we can't compare boots! I'll have my servants etch a likeness of mine into the hardened outer shell of petrified oak bark and then dip it into steaming maple syrup to give it a special sheen. After it dries, I will cover it in burlap, tie it in tweed rope and have my messenger owl bring it to you and your company. Then you do the same. Later in the month, I will write sonnets about my feelings on the boots and submit them to the next anthropologie catalog. Look for it on page 54.

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Anonymous said...

brass bird cage i like your way to represent these cages i love birds and i also care for them i like to keep birds in my eyes i love them to be mine and also i like for them beautiful cages i would like to appreciate you on this

Lauren said...

Hi. Like, what was wrong with me in 2008 that I could just write those things? Is it because I was fresh off a layoff and my mind was rested? I'm confused.

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