Photo by Gabriel Rochette

Here is the thing: I am obsessed with Iceland.

Don’t ask me why. I have never been there. I have no relation. I strongly dislike the climate. That Bjork chic is a little disturbing. And their economy is in the shitter.

...but so what?

It’s Iceland.  It’s magic.

I feel drawn to this place like I have lived there a hundred years. Like I know every frozen nook and glacial mass east of Reykjavik.

I do not believe in reincarnation, but if I did, I’m confident you would have found me toothless and cleaning fish, or milking goats, or something equally unglamorous, in Iceland.

Sometimes, when I am at my worst, when it’s the middle of the night at the bottom of winter and I am scraping the dregs of Depression, one of the only things that calms me down is putting on headphones and listening to a series of Icelandic lullabies.

Loud.

Does that sound weird? Yeah, I guess it does. But it works for me. It gets me through the night. Some people get through these sorts of nights by reading, some write, some drink…and some people, like me, resort to music. Weird and foreign music, devoid of rhythm and harmony. Noise. Cold white noise. I do not speak Icelandic, so I can’t understand a word of it, but it helps me cope. And for that I am eternally grateful. 

Round about a year ago, I heard a preview of a song that sounded just like one of those Icelandic lullabies, but for once, the words were in English and I could understand. It was "Holocene" by the American folk band Bon Iver. And it was glorious.

But as much as I loved it from the first moment, I thought for sure it would remain some obscure song that nobody but me would like. As though I was special as a snowflake and it was written for me and only me.

Well. Apparently those Bon Iver guys had different plans. They decided to let other people listen to my special song. Then they went it sold it all over the world. Then they went and got themselves a Grammy nomination.

Seriously, where do they get the nerve?

Fine then. I’ll be the bigger party here and make peace with everyone sharing my special song, even though it won’t feel so special anymore. If you haven’t heard my special song, here is the video.

PS: Guess where it was filmed?



Yup. That's Iceland.

Congrats to Bon Iver and best of luck with my special song at the Grammys this Sunday :)


 

Rambling cat lady side note: Not all cats like beds, and not all cat beds are the same. While most cats like to have their own special ‘nest’ for napping, some cats feel trapped or unsafe when sleeping in a confined space, like in a bed with four high sides. This is sort of like how some people can only sleep with their socks off (for the record, anti-sock people are just plain weird, but we love them anyway)… So if your kitty is anti-bed, try offering them a bed with low sides, or three sides, and see if they like it. Cat beds are great, because not only do they help kitty feel comfortable, they help keep shedding cat hair in one place. Win-Win!

• Old cashmere sweater. Any sweater will work, but most cats will avoid acrylic on account of the static electricity. However, I have heard from people with small dogs who love snuffling on sturdy acrylic sweaters. Use your discretion.
• Cotton quilt batting.
• Needle and thread.
• Glove warmers (optional).

My friend Ann sent me a giant box crammed with roll upon roll of red, pink, and white ribbons. Most of them wired, half of them satin, all of them extraordinary. 

1. Start with at least 24" of wired ribbon (sometimes called French ribbon).
2. Using your fingers to pinch the wire at one end, push the ribbon toward the center. Repeat on the opposite end.
3. Keep pushing and gathering until the the gathered seam is less than one third the original length0 (in this case, I started with 24" and finished with 8").

Now that you have the rose all rolled up, twist off the ends to keep it in shape so you can make a bunch more roses. For a 15" wreath base, I used 35 roses. I could have gotten by with ten less, but it would have looked even cooler with ten more. It's a matter of preference.

Dear Bigass Flower Hats,

Please feel free to jump off those skinny models and into my closet. You are welcome anytime! I cannot offer you the glamor and prestige of a Paris runway, but I promise to wear you to the grocery store with some seriously fierce sweat pants. This is the life!

What do you say?

I await your arrival.

Fondly,

   Peaches

Want to see them flutter and flounce with every bounce? Watch the video.

This is my bulletin board at work. I use it to sort and display everything from swatches to snowflakes to borrrrring paperwork. Somewhere in the rubble is a Valentine. Can you spot it?

Here, I'll give you a better clue.

Valentines aren't just cards, they are all shapes and sizes and colors, and I can't tell you how much I enjoying seeing all the photos you guys are sending in. Keep them coming!


 

Wonder how an old photo of my favorite candy turned into the new color for my kitchen?

Click here to read more. 


 

Confession: I finally painted the kitchen pink last weekend.

Sort of. 

Guess which one I chose. I want to see how the tide turns. (Don't worry, I won't be offended if you like one I didn't pick, I'm just curious if my hypothesis is correct. It takes a lot more than paint preferences to offend me!)

My methodology for narrowing it down to these three was actually really interesting, at least to a color nerd like me, but I'll show you how with the results on Monday. I need another weekend to finish up.

Last weekend was bonkers.

In addition to the paint, I also did something crazy to the cabinets.

And not like Beyonce Kind of Crazy.

It was more like It's 3AM And You Want To Mix Solvents? Kind of Crazy.

You'll just have to wait and see...

Happy weekend!