Y'all, I don't know what's wrong with me. In the last week I have stopped and started posts on art, posts on architecture, and a GIANT post on couches (which I will finish, and it will change the face of the earth -- trust). But every time I near completion, I just get glazy eyed and tired and bored with myself. Summer has reduced me into a sensory cellular mass, an oozing ball of goo goo ga ga, "look I see pretty colors." Pathetic. But I'm rolling with it.
My new summer place. You know they serve Pimm's Cups with a splash of sassy there.
I am always a sucker for vintage glass wares.
Words cannot express my utter and complete obsession with this lake house.
Don't forget to look at the curtains...
I am very interested in that tray table and patterned book. Can you tell I've been trained to look at the corners of images?
I'm sorry my summer brain is not capable of anything witty or pithy or even grammatically correct. I can feel your laser like disappointment searing my already guilty conscience. Please don't beat me.
I promise next week will be better. I think.