Packing

Hopefully, the next post you'll see from me will be as a happy new Asoria-ite, with functioning Internet and a grandma-esque landlady. We move all the big stuff Saturday, so it's been sort of a whirlwind of packing boxes over here. And scared kitties. And, "Did we really pack all the spoons? Boo."

I just finished tying up my necklaces and am trying to figure how to transport them:




Any ideas?

Hey, kids, while tying, I realized that I've got some jewelry I don't want to bring along because I really never wear it. Nothing fancy, a couple of nice vintage beaded necklaces mixed in with some cheapy H&M stuff, but still... I'd like to give them a real home. I will send out any of the below pieces to you totally and completely for free (I'm sorry, you beautiful international bloggers, but US only! I'm a hot mess at customs forms). I will even pay for shipping, that's how sad I would be to throw these things in the Goodwill pile (though it may yet come to that...). If you want anything below, leave your email address in the comments section along with whichever item and I'll contact you for your address.

Really tiny numbers! If they have not been claimed yet, they are still listed below!
( 6. silver collar necklace from Temple sale (I am equal opportunity when it comes to buying jewelry as Houses of Worship); 7. vintage white bead necklace from ebay; 8. circle bracelet--small because I moved the chain up--H&M; 14. lucite style cuff from F21; 15. Fake gold bracelets with rhinestones from Karmaloop in Boston.)


See you next week!

What You'll Be Missing

Tomorrow is Friday Favorites, and next week I'm going to get back to the history of jewelry (some really fascinating stuff on slashed gloves), but today is a free day.

So, I've made it clear many times before that winter is not my favorite season. The static, the cold, the chills that nestle deep into your bones and won't budge until April. The dark mornings and darker evenings.

Living near the beach adds a whole other dimension of agony to winter: the wind. Yeah, sure, I hear you: it's windy by you too. That's nothing, nothing compared to the type of wind that blows through a beach town. It's a force, so strong that three or four times a week, as I round the corner to our entryway, I feel as though I'll be pushed over.

But the great thing? The one perfect thing that I will miss terribly when we move?
This:






Man, those surfers are crazy.