These Here Parts

There is baby stuff all over the apartment. 
We try to tidy it all up but you really can't beat it. First, there's so much of it even though we've tried to keep it paired down. And second, it's a matter of necessity - blankets double as wraps and drool catchers. Toys are clean and safe for their destinations (the mouth, always the mouth!) and keep that little hand from yanking your hair out. His hand, not yours. Seriously, Felix grabbed a big chunk last night and ended up with several sad looking strands in his tiny fist. Now I'm finally understanding that ponytail that so many moms sport round the clock - it's not only convenient (and a slight laziness), it's preventative! Keep the locks away from the baby so you can keep them at all. 

So even though this baby owns this house now - and owns us for that matter - I am still finding a way to carve out some simple pleasures. Namely (as I mentioned previously) reading. Glorious reading! I've missed it so much. I read all the time. I'm always looking at news and blogs on my phone but it had been a good while since I had finished an actual book. Now I'm on a kick and I'm so happy about it. Not sure how everyone else reads but I tend to go through waves and patterns. Usually I'll go through a period of a specific genre, typically non-fiction and then every few books, I'll pick up a novel or two. I think because I've been reading in shorter spurts (due to, ahem, some else's schedule), I've been big on the non-fiction. It's the kind of genre you can drop and pick up without worrying about forgetting about plot/character details. Recently there has been lots of Malcolm Gladwell because the man is such a brilliant story teller. Then there was The Natashas by Victor Malarek, which is slightly dated but so haunting that I couldn't put it down even though it's ruined a bit of humanity for me. And now I'm in the middle of the book featured above that was trapped under a coffee and look, a toy! It's Sex at Dawn by Christopher Ryan and Cacilda Jethá which is so enthralling that every other page has me raising an eyebrow. It's also pretty funny and I highly recommend it.

In the second picture is the softest, sweetest elephant that was a gift for our little man from one of my best friends, Amy McCulloch. Amy lives in London, England where she is Commissioning Editor at Harper Collins Voyager. She reads even more than I do and is the person who I credit with making fantasy fiction cool - to me at least. She sent us Game of Thrones way before it launched on television with a note that read, "This is going to be big, trust me!" But the biggest news is that Amy is herself a writer and has just landed a two-part deal for her own fantasy series, The Oathbreaker's Shadow (find a brief synopsis of the story here) which will be published by Random House in Spring 2013 but you can pre-order it here or here or here. I'm so proud of her - she's been working on this since we met years ago and I've seen firsthand how hard she's worked on it and how passionate she is about the story and about her writing process. She's the hardest working person I know, so incredibly smart and creative. I can't wait to turn every page.


Follow Amy McCulloch on twitter and check out her author facebook page.

*I hadn't intended to turn this whole post into an ode to books and writers but there you go. You write what you love. I snapped that shot of the elephant not realizing Amy's literary connection to this whole entry but it just so happens that it fit perfectly. I still can't figure out the perfect name for him. I suggested Dorian Gray to Chris one night as we were putting the baby down but he thinks that the reference is far too cryptic and depressing for a child's stuffed animal. I have to agree but now what to name that little fellow?

Life, Lately

Everyone told me how quickly time would go by in the early days of motherhood. The truth is that it is just not fast - it actually flies by. Zooming past you before you can ever really figure it out. Those first days out of the gate are a haze; not only because you are not sleeping well but because now, three and half months later, I have such a different baby. His face has changed so much already. He's huge and feels so sturdy. He smiles and laughs and reacts. But most of all he is so much more him now. His actions and reactions seem so much more owned lately. 

And I'm so excited to watch it all unfold before me. He's been my little partner for the last few months and I feel like I have earned every single smile he decides to give me. I've been working so hard for him! His food/naps/comfort/needs all before everything else. Before my sleep/shower/breakfast/lunch/work/reading/time-off. I wouldn't ask for any of those missed things back but heck, it sure feels good to get a toothless grin as a reward. I wake up and he sees me, big eyes all wide recognizing me and then it's a smile. That is gold. 

Above Image: This is what my life has been looking like lately. We picked up some books for Felix at a thrift store and he's been enjoying them. He's not quite old enough to "get" what is going on in them but I think he likes the colours and he does actually follow the flow of the pages (or so it seems!). I've also been managing to do some reading, usually while breastfeeding and it's been nice to get back into books and magazines because well, I just love them so much! The September Vogue is obscenely large and I read that when baby boy was napping since it was hard to hold 910+ pages with one hand.

25 Years and 14 Inches

I was the girl with the long hair. Wavy, chestnut strands that generally reached my waist, although the actual length has varied over the last few years. The only time that it was every shorter (by my standards, not even near being shoulder-length) was when I had waited too long between trims and some hairdresser had convinced me that I just had to cut off three inches. True, I had grown lazy (and cheap!) with my haircuts and whenever it actually occurred to me that I need an appointment, my ends were dry and snarled. You see,  I've never been the kind of person who "does" their hair. No hour-long straightening sessions. I rarely even blow dried it, doing it only if I absolutely needed it. For example, it's minus thirty degrees celsius outside and I have to leave, like, five minutes ago. Even sparing regular torture, my hair could get itself into terrible shape. Having hair that long means nothing reaches the roots.  It would dry out. Hair that long gets caught on chairs and in car doors, in zippers and under purses. 


In someways, I got spoiled by my luck. I think I have pretty good hair. It's got enough weight that it mostly behaves and it's thick and wavy enough that I can generally get away with not doing much to it. But that last bit was exactly what had been driving me crazy during the last two years. I didn't bother to do anything with my hair so I always felt like it looked like exactly that; "Hello, nice to meet you, I didn't do anything to my hair today." I've thought about starting a hair routine but just thinking about it exhausts me. I've got my makeup down to about five minutes and that's all I really want to hand over in the morning. So instead of actually doing anything to my hair, I began to fantasize about all the wonderful short hair cuts I'd seen. I blogged about it. I thought, "maybe not a full hair cut, maybe just bangs!" I blogged about that here and here. I drove everyone around me crazy with all the pros and cons. Pros and cons? Oh yeah! I can turn a hair cut into a philosophical discussion - or at least one that has a lot of sides and is way more complicated than anything related to hair should be. "I need something different." "But I love my hair.""I'm sick of the same thing.""Will another haircut look like me?""Do I want to have the same style forever?""A new haircut will inspire me to 'do' my hair""Can I handle a haircut that needs to be 'done'?"


But I did it.
About a month ago. I shut the heck up and just went for it. I cut off fourteen inches and stuck the ponytail in an envelope. I did it for the first time in my life. In spite of the fact that my father sent me two (not one, but two!) very serious texts, begging me not to do it. My father's messages hit the core of my worries about my hair. Ever since I can remember, my father has loved my hair. Or more specifically, he loves long hair on women. He really does believe that long hair is ultimate in femininity and beauty and in a weird way I was concerned about missing that too. I don't think I'm a woman just because I have long hair but I do know how easy it has been for me to fall back on it. No matter how I was dressed, if I pulled my hair down, there was an instant feminine quality to my presentation. My hair was too long to not be obviously female. It was also a security blanket for me - you can literally hide behind your hair. You can play with it when you're nervous or thoughtful or bored. And for me, most of all, more than even my own ideas about femininity or image on a broader scale, was what my hair represented to me. Twenty-five years of companionship. All those years of looking in a mirror and seeing it frame my face. It felt like a pretty big deal to me, if only me.


By the time I was in the hairdresser's chair, I was ready. I really had spent some serious time thinking and preparing to let go of all of that weight. A sort of mourning, perhaps? 
I have been enjoying the new "haircut," even in spite of the fact that I have to style the bangs every morning. It has been nice to have a defined style to my hair and I definitely enjoyed receiving my thank-you note from the charity that received my hair. All fourteen inches will be going to make wigs for children, most often little girls, dealing with hair loss. When I read their website explaining that young girls are their primary applicants because they tend to have the hardest time with hair loss, it made me feel that I was both right and wrong about all this hair business. There is a certain silliness in the rather drawn out decision-making process about my hair length. I have the luxury of growing my hair, ignoring my hair, damaging my hair and then discarding my hair if I choose. I have that choice. But on the other hand, taking my hair so seriously is not just about vanity when I think about it in terms of identity. Should I be flippant about it just because I'm scared of sounding superficial? It certainly is as serious as we want to make it - we/I have that option. But if it can be a powerful thing for a child that is sick, should it not also be something special to the rest of us? Isn't hair, its styles and customs, so closely linked to our cultures, traditions and family? 
The weight we give it is our decision, much like its length.

Crossroads: Creativity & Real Life

One moment the light was like this.

The next moment, it was this.

I am the kind of person who is very easily divided on the inside. 

I really have a hard time separating my creative inclinations from my analytical tendencies. 

On any given day I can muster up lots of excitement about either side of myself.

Out of high school, I went the traditional route even though a week before the applications were do I almost tried to figure out how I could throw together a portfolio together for arts school. But I ended up at a Liberal Arts college. 

I wanted to learn about the world. I wanted to read about Plato and history and politics.

I did it. Very much. For four years. 

And I came out of it feeling tired. I came out feeling out of touch. I took a year off to apply to graduate school because, well what else do you do when you specialize in history?  

I got in. To a masters program at NYU. And I got married and was supposed to spend the rest of the summer working on getting my international visa when I had a huge moment. It's as close as I've ever gotten to an anxiety attack - I just couldn't do it. I couldn't go back into the ivory tower. I felt very disconnected from the academic world, from the university world and the idea of being lukewarm about a choice that would equal tens of thousands of dollars of MORE school debt left me cold.

So I gave up my acceptance. 

I've spent this last year struggling to figure out if what I need is to pay more attention to my creative side. I've taken workshops. I've dreamed about being an entrepreneur and running my own little show. I've worked on this little piece of the internet, this blog as an outlet and collection of sorts. I've tried to figure out my voice. 

And I have definitely been learning. I am learning about my limitations. Simple but important things. For instance, I'm not just a procrastinator. I can be ridiculously lazy. I'm also a terrible planner, as in I plan too much. I actually enjoy the tedious things that most people cringe at. I like the planning so much, it's all I end up doing. I really only work under pressure. I'm struggling with my own lack of discipline, with my own lack of training. I've told girlfriends over dinner how I need to pace myself - I want to turn into some artist over night - but I have to accept and respect that it takes years. When I see work I admire, work that is full and inspired, I have to remind myself that the artist has been at that helm for years. It's not something I get to suddenly evoke just because I'm bored with my retail job. I have to actually build. And build some more. 

I've been trying to give myself the summer off. I promised myself a hiatus on all the work. No more classes. Just some time to let it all simmer. But of course, I've been carrying all of the above (and then some) around with me. In my head. Eyes sometimes open at four thirty in the morning, trying to figure out the perfect answer. The equation that will light up in front of my eyes and reveal how I will no longer need to feel restless and defeated. The thing that will equal work and creating and thinking. Oh and will pay the bills somehow. All in a nice little bow. But it's not so easy. Not so clear at all. 

Right now what I have are these words. Time to let them ferment.

Books, A Thought

I have a pile of new books. 
I love the excitement of a new book; the smell of the paper, the unused spine, the feel of flipping it open. I'm also the kind of person that tends to buy my books in binges, usually a result of whatever new topic I'm interested in. I do, however, have to admit that I buy a lot of my books online. I always try the library first, but when I finally break down and buy a book, it's usually decided by price. I wish that this wasn't the case.
I wish that I could walk into any of the wonderful independent bookstores in this lovely city, peruse all the gorgeous and heavy design books or the crisp new novels or the genius non-fiction, and just buy them. But I can't. Or at least, I feel like I can't. 


The new pile of books that arrived by mail (that's also a bonus of shopping online - I love mail) would have cost me nearly twice as much. And that makes a big difference to me, right now, in life. I got to thinking about all of this because of this fantastic post on Oh Hello There. It talks about how bookstores are a source for research but not for sales for a larger publishing company. And I found it particularly interesting that some of the comments on the post talked about "splitting up their purchases," i.e. getting novels from independent bookstores and larger, research volumes online if they weren't available in-person. 


It's all got me thinking that I should be more thoughtful about my purchases.
I will never NOT read books. I'm sometimes glued to my iPhone or a magazine and can seriously spend hours reading blogs - but I will never give up holding a book in my hand. 
I'm a reader. Always have been. Always will be.
But I'm also a consumer and that deserves some thought too.

Daily Musings

Things that make me smile inside:
1. Paper goods full of colour inspiration.
2. A vintage card for our one year anniversary. This card is probably older than I am and definitely older than our marriage - here's hoping that if its fragile paper can survive, we can beat it with our love!
3. Crafty supplies, ready on my shelf. 

Good Bye Long Weekend...

... Hello work week.
It has been a very nice couple of days. Well, actually it's been rather interesting. We had a small get-together on Saturday evening - some friends for a warming of the new apartment - it was so good to be chatting until the wee hours. Yesterday, the husband and I drove out of town and ended up on a nature conservation. I fell in love with a horse who fell in love with me because I kept feeding him grass despite all the signs against that sort of behaviour. I was without a camera and regretted, especially since we saw some pretty evil looking hawks!
Today we had the intention of driving out of town again, basking in the weird weather and camera in tow, but our plans were foiled due to car troubles. It's a drag but we didn't let it wreck our nice day.

This lovely card from Rifle and Co. at the National Stationery Show is just what I need to kick off a new week.  

Moving has left me in shambles...

It's been a few days.
I haven't posted. Haven't had a day off. Haven't unpacked my clothing.
It was quater to six this morning and I was rifling through my luggage trying to "feel" where the hell my pants were since I didn't want to turn on the light and wake my darling.
It's been weird. And now we've invited some family over this weekend which will be lovely but also...
I still need to unpack!

I've been too tired in the evenings and this week was our birthday weekend (my husband and I are one day apart) so we've been spoiling ourselves with dinner and forgetting that I NEED TO UNPACK!

On another note, I found this image and I thought it was great enough to post even though I should be unpacking and not posting.

Daily Snippets

I have been doing a lot of walking around the city lately and it's been just wonderful to not have to wear winter boots or winter coats. Both are too heavy, too hot for running errands and rather lacking in the style department. I have been pretty happy to pull out the above items.


1. Newsboy cap - borrowed years ago from my friend D. She's the one with the wonderful umbrella. I am sure I tried to give it back (months after I first borrowed it) but she let me keep it. She did not, however, let me keep her copy of Miss Manners' Guide to Rearing Perfect Children. That was asked for promptly because Miss Manners is just too funny to lose. 
On a side note, D, I found a copy of Miss Manners' Guide for the Turn of the Millennium. 
You can borrow it sometime.


2. Butter-Like Leather - My mother bought this jacket for me a couple of years ago and it's been looking better and better. I never understood how weather appropriate leather can be. It's light but warm and works well with layering. It also makes you feel slightly more put together when you are running errands all across town.


3. Metallic Booties - These have been nicknamed "moonboots" around here. I get it. They are super shiny silver/pewter. They look ridiculously bright in the sun and are cut right at the ankle. I bought them because they were brand-new at a vintage store and made-in-Italy but to be honest I wasn't quite sure if I could pull them off. I've been wearing them non-stop now and they actually match a lot of my clothing. Weird. 


4. Chevron Quilted Jacket - This was a thrift store find. Loved the black and white. How many times do you see that on a jacket? The fit is a little boxy and probably doesn't fit me as well as it could but it's boxy enough that I can wear a sweater and blazer underneath it, which is sometimes a necessity when the weather s schizophrenic outside. The sleeves are 3/4 length which makes it a bit more fresh. 
Oh and the buttons are weird. It's all a little weird.

Texture Feast

Toronto woke up to a flurry of snow today.

I got up in the early morning to use the bathroom and caught a glimpse of the white stuff falling outside my window. It was pretty out there but the best feeling was knowing I could climb back into bed and go back to being cozy. I have such a love-hate relationship with winter in this city. I love the snowfall but I hate the slush. I can deal with winter until about February. Then it's minus thirty degrees celsius and I'm pretty much over it. The extreme cold depresses me. All I ever want to do is stay home and read or watch movies. There are seasons for every activity, I guess.

I'm going to do some typing today. Not here. I'm going to sit at my new typewriter and hammer out a letter and post it overseas by the end of the weekend. I may even get around to doing some printing. 

I've planned a cozy and thoughtful day. Here's to letter writing and not catching cabin fever!

I found the images above and thought they were so inspiring. I love the detail of the textures and the tones. They are available at Lost and Taken, a site that provides free high res textures by Caleb Kimbrough. Good resource for some creativity, eh?

I first saw them here.

Through Heart Shaped Glasses

Sometimes you just need a little motivation.

I am not feeling great today. Our plans for our day off today was to paint the living room white (it's currently pink) and we're pretty done with it. So that's the plan but I am not feeling great today... so I am determined to change up my mood even if it's just through saying to myself that I want to feel more motivated. Plus, I have a phone date with a lovely friend that lives in England. I'm exciting to catch up with her... So I should start feeling better .... right ... about ... now... GO!

Inspiring fashion image found here.

Styling Your Style

One of the most difficult things I have found about blogging, and I am sure I am not alone, is the selection of what makes it to the blog and what doesn't. A lot of the blogs I love are great at this. From the first page you just "get" what the blog is about. Often blogs that a really defined in their styling are also rather specific in their subject matter. One will be all about interiors or mainly about fashion. I find it hard to narrow in because I have purposely intended on keeping my scope wide.
I want to be discovering a lot of different things about a lot of different things.
When I was debating about whether to make the leap into an active member of the blogosphere, a friend of mine told me to just start it and your style will follow.
I'm not sure if that has happened here yet although I have definitely noticed some patterns in what gets posted. I like my art graphic and bright. Usually on either end of a spectrum. Highly ethereal or super bold. Typography turns me on. Thin. Thick. Serifs. Scribbles. More of the graphic world.
But I also like craft. There's a deep longing inside me for crafty things. Hand-sewn. Put together. Natural. Printed. Altered.

So where does that leave Suite Henry?
This is the adventure, no?

I hope that people like what I like because I am excited about whatever does make it to the screen.
I was pretty thrilled to check out Fen and Ned. I found the above images on several pages of the blog and was drawn to the overall style and the inspiration. I love you internet.

Food for Thought. Or Not.

I might be getting addicted to mush food.
Dental surgery will do that to you.

I'm drinking another Ensure as I type and my darling husband makes some homemade guacamole. He made it last night and I requested it again. We're taking it to a friend's house. It's our payment for her letting us watch the latest episode of our new favourite show.

I never eat guacamole. My friends all love it but I never seem to be in the mood for it. Is it the Latina in me rebelling against the expected? Is that even true? I don't even think all Latins eat guacamole, maybe it's just Mexicans. Am I wrong about this or did I just do the stereotypical thing people do when they stereotype Mexicans? I mean Latins...

The point is, the guacamole is good enough I wanted two nights in a row.

Photo credit - here.