I live in quite a large city. As a city dweller, I consider myself one of those lucky people that is able to walk to (and from) work. Why should this be considered lucky, one may ask… well yes, that is because of “mission: decompression”. Today, I had one of those days at work. One of those days of: datasets, analyze, calculate, results, analyze, think, think, analyze and repeat and repeat and repeat and repeat until your brain doesn’t explode nor implode but it just draws blanks and blanks until you feel like your a zombie without any type of intelligence nor thought and find it time to shut down the computer and go home. It is this very second that becomes mission: decompression; the best and most rewarding moment of the day. After being couped up in a 2×4 cubicle without any meaningful windows like a maximum security prisoner, the moment that your brain oozes stupid and you mentally (and morally) feel like you can leave, its like busting free and tasting the sweet air of freedom for the first time in seemingly years and years and years. It is that moment that mission: decompression begins. The walk home. Walking down the light up street, you feel like you are alive for the first time. Seeing people having leisurely beers on the street terraces, children prancing and playing around, lovers savouring each moment in each other’s arms under the mid-evening light is more than liberating, it is mandatory. Midweek nighttimes don’t start until you are on the street, people watching, dinner recipe thinking, fantasy dreaming…. anything. It doesn’t matter if you had the best day or worst day ever, the moment when you step onto the street and breathe in the night is mission: decompression and it doesn’t matter what happened before – all that matters is the complete white noise that passes through your head and doesn’t allow anything else to enter – paradise.
Baby, it is cold outside… and inside. In fact, it is colder inside than it is outside. If it is winter wonderland out there, in here it is the Arctic Circle, and, no, a cozy cup of tea does not melt away these icicles. So, what does one do with sub-zero temperatures in the office? One can dream of exotic beaches in the South Pacific, a bearskin rug near a roaring fire or, I don’t know, a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup that melts even the thickest snowman (yes, I am referring to the Campbell’s soup commericals of the 90’s). But, even all that daydreaming won’t take away this level of cold. In fact, it seems to make the blood circulate more to my head than to my hands and feet making me simultaneously fear that my fingers and toes will fall off and that I will freeze to death, in no particular order. Brrrrrr. But then I saw this:
(which can be bought HERE)
and suddenly all was, in fact, brilliant in the world as my body got all warm and tingly thinking of drinking a cup of mustachioed Darjeeling.
Thank you Etsy, Thank you Internet, Thank you World, even in my coldest hour, you know just how to cozy up my tea.
Stay cozy. Toodles.
It’s Monday. The first day of the week. The day of the moon or perhaps better known as the day of the blues. The Monday blues.
It doesn’t matter if you stay in lazy pants without breathing fresh air from the moment your keys enter the keyhole of your apartment on Friday evening until Monday morning. It doesn’t matter if you decided to have an almost 72-hours marathon of “No Reservations” (for your going out to a restaurant fix, without actually leaving the house), of “Lost” (for your going on vacation but ending up on a magical mystery island with smoke monsters fix, without actually having to worry about luggage) or even of “Say yes to the dress” (for your dream/chaotic wedding dress shopping experience, without actually having to spend money, go to the store, or even be getting married). No, no; It doesn’t matter if you decided to do all these things while not even moving your bum from its all so comfy, slightly indented spot on the couch, while ordering take-out. None of these things matter when it comes to Monday morning because even if you partook in 1/10th of the aforementioned weekend laziness, who actually wants to get out of their cozy bed on Monday morning and start the week? I am pretty sure a slim majority will be shouting their “yay”s.
However, in real life, we must get out of bed, in the morning, on the days that start with “M”. Thus, we must think of ways to get over the unavoidable shock that accompanies this feat of the gods. What can drag me out of this M-day misery (besides a couple of gallons of your strongest Arabica, you may ask?) Well, a good laugh getting lost in the blogosphere. And for this, I must give my thanks, show my appreciation to the dedicated, relentless and overwhelmingly hilarious/motivating/snarky people that help me pass those unmentionable M-day morning moments just that much better.
It is awards season in Hollywood, and as I feel more than compelled to show my appreciation so I decided to give out Making my Monday a Funday Awards to those so deserving for their efforts in making these morning for me much less manic.
Best Downton Abbey recap/tells it like it is:
Now, I have mentioned my tendencies towards Anglophilia. Though I have already watched DA Series 3 in its entirety. The recaps of this blogger make me laugh out loud uncontrollably, until my co-workers look at me, like im crazy, so I start to pretend I am coughing in an attempt to visually negate the fact that I am reading a recap. I mean, there is even an Edith theme song!
But the reason that My Favorite and My Best deserves a Monday Funday award is not only for the snarkily snarky recaps I have read, which are the best around, period. No, no, it is so much more than that. MFAMB provides design tips, paintings as well as daily brainstorms, which we (and by we I mean I) can relate to all so much. So, check it out to see why it is also hands-down winner for my first award. Next Monday, you will thank me for this little nugget of joy that fills my body with happy endorphines as my eyes pass word by word.
Best snarky fashion critique:
Besides saying snarky about 5 times in the past 100 words, I have a guily pleasure. Yes, a guilty pleasure – only one, I swear. I have a guilty pleasure and that may or may not be celebrity fashion (and/or their lack of… as the ladies of the blog that wins this category so tactfully, artfully and graciously show us). Yes, I am one of those people who look down at my shopping mall jeans and sweater and try to go in to the far-reaching corners of their brain and think of the clothes of Marion Cotillard, Jennifer Lawernce and Anne Hathaway to change my “blah” to Balenciaga, my “eh” to Elie Saab and my “meh” to Marchesa. But, well as this only happens in my mind, better to see what is walking down the runways… or down Robertson Blvd. through the eyes of the Fug Girls, who more than explicity say it how it is… or how it should be with a heaping plateful of snark (x5) on the side.
Well, from the above two blogs I definitely get lots of laughs. But, it is also important to have some inspiration, some motivation on Monday mornings. So, to show us that all our hard work, and stolen hours in cozy pants (I mean bed), will pay off with sweet sweet sweet success and (hopefully) some freshly baked brownies, or something like that we can refer to Serena Palumbo who is not only an international cooking and legal superstar (check out her bio!, dayumm girlll) but she also gives lots of great recipes that can be made in a city kitchen (which, as you are speaking to a little lady with a kitchen the size of a side closet, is extremely helpful).
So let’s raise a cozy cup of tea to these fantastic bloggers who kick ass by making Monday mornings (and… like every morning … and afternoon… and… life..) just that much more tolerable.
Tea may or may not be the definition of cozy; though it does basically sooth the soul. I love tea. Well, actually, I only recently decided that I love tea. I decided this about the week before Christmas. Right around the time that I decided that I wish that I was living in Downton Abbey and having tea in bed every morning served to me by my very own lady’s maid (but, perhaps this is another story for another day).
I am a bit of an extremist. So, just warming up to the idea of liking tea was never an option. Since the week before Christmas, I am a self-proclaimed tea fanatic. What does this mean. It means since Series 1 E. 1 of Downton Abbey (of which I then devoured all three series within the week — Christmas specials included) I have acquired 2 tea trays, a tea pot (with built in filter), an assortment of infusions and darjeeling blends as well as an all-out obsession for biscuits (and by biscuits I really mean to say chocolate chip cookies).
Since, I have developed a sort of nightly ritual including: Pot of tea and cookies (served with a cup and saucer, proper) while possibly using a British accent during the consumption of this cozy soul-warming liquid.
I love tea and it’s super cozy, and makes me want to lift up my pinky finger.