Posts Tagged ‘vintage gardens’

Inspiration Station: Star Wars, “That’s no moon” à la Magritte edition

February 5, 2010


As seen on the forums of somethingawful.



cf:


“La Trahison des Images/The Treachery of Images” (Magritte, 1928-29), sometimes translated as “The Betrayal of Images.”


Final thought:


Sign on one of the back doors of Vintage Gardens, Modesto, California. I took this at Paolo and Miss D’s wedding and was thinking of Magritte’s pipe the entire time.

State of my state, or, what condition my condition is in

October 8, 2009

T-minus: one and a half days to Paolo and Miss D’s wedding. Squeeeee…..!

Don’t imagine much sleep happening for anyone; I know I had trouble even last night. Miss D and I were comparing nightmares when we went to pick up her gown in SJ. I dreamt that she’d forgotten to buy a veil (totally impossible because I have seen her in it several times now, I even hung it up and put it in the chemical-odored garment bag that David’s had the gall to charge her for after she dropped umpteen dollars in their store). The place where the wedding is being held, Vintage Gardens, had in my dream a loaner veil. But it was stained along the bottom where it had been drug through the dyed frosting of a cake.

Miss D was trying to make a brave go of it, saying, “Whatev’,” and, “It’ll be okay. No one will notice,” but it was totally noticeable and she had tears in her eyes. So I volunteered to nip over to the bridal store and pick up another veil real quick. Of all things, Miss D’s middle sister who is incredibly sweet and easygoing got in a fight with me about how ridiculous this idea was, and that there was no time because it was time to take pictures. This was all very vivid and I woke going, “Why is ‘Nina being so mean to me today?” then realized it had been a dream. Miss D’s observation when I related this dream to her was that we were the last two people she would predict would be in a fight, least of all over that; if nothing else, we would be verbally wrestling over who should be the martyr and go get the veil.

Paolo’s brother Scotty kept popping on and off the yahoo! chat last night; I assume this means he flew safely out of Quatar and was either back in Vegas already somehow or was on a bad internet cafe connection in London. Either way, super-pumped to see him and meet his wife and son! Tempus sure fugits.

Thanks to the masochism paper, I can afford to buy kidlet a really cute, fancy new dress for the wedding (she was a little put-out by the prospect of wearing her Easter dress from this Spring or combining the occasion with a dress which would cross-multiply into Thanksgiving and Christmas, which were the old options before the urgent paper dropped in my lap). I’m hoping to talk Miss D in to joining us: I remember those last few days before the wedding, and the total insanity. This is the last day before the chaos will truly descend, I suspect, and she needs a couple strong drinks and an appetizer from a chain restaurant to fortify her. Plus, we like to relieve stress by yelling at people in parking lots. We’re kind of incredible at it, not gonna lie.

Then I got a hair appointment at 5, which will make it three times this year that I have entered a salon. Look at me, I’m practically a woman! Totally not as nerve-wracking as I used to think. And if I get a little distraught, I will take my cue from the patron saint of you-know-whos and simply grab a smoke, which is also nature’s appetite suppressant. Thanks, Audrey Hepburn. You always know what’s best.