Theatrical

I've decided that I'm going to run off and join the circus.

I kind of miss the pageantry of it all... and the peanuts.

Haven't you ever wished to thumb your nose at gravity and hurtle through the air?

Or maybe just get clowny with the kids?

I suppose it might be old fashioned to dream of big top escapism, but I'm bored with restricting my grown up fantasies to white washed spas and hotels.

I've been working my ever loving ass off, and this weekend I'm not going to touch my damned computer. At all costs I am going to avoid the tv, aka demon box thief of time. I think I might repaint our bedroom furniture in a really bright, glossy shade of green. And maybe I will sign up for trapeze lessons here. I like to get high...

On life. Duh.

[Teatro Franco Parenti, Vancouver Circus School, Gene Simmons]

Jazzy

ONE day of daycare and I already have a snot encrusted kid batting big, glazed puppy dog eyes at me... needless to say the bloggy might get short shrift this week. Not to fear -- eye candy is still coming your way. Without my witty repartee, you'll just have to insert your own comments. Feel free to share them with me. I like reading your thought nuggets. Without further ago, check out this gorgeous place designed by antiques dealer Florence Lopez.

The color palette reminds me somewhat of the brazilliant room designed by Emily Henderson in her inaugural episode of Secrets of a Stylist.

You did watch it, right?

Quirky

Back in the day, tattooed coffee tables and UV activated wallpaper were the kind of things that turned me on. I will admit to a streak of freak running wild through my tender veins, but age has tempered the magnitude of my rebellion against the norm. I still hate a white bread and mayonnaise sandwich like Damien Hirst hates poverty, but I no longer feel the need to shock and awe. Right now I shoot for The Prick (no, not that one) -- The Prick as in punctum, the little detail that pierces the veil of blahness and sends a shiver of life from tip to toes.

Like this:

Erin Martin's room in Elle's San Francisco showhouse absolutely slays me. The custom light fixture has Louise Bourgeois written all over it, and the little altar is straight genius. This room is lean, mean, and damned sophisticated. Found via The Nero Chronicles.

Or how about this room in Patrice Gruffaz's home? Someone's been snacking on magic mushrooms again.

And I am absolutely consumed by Pierre Passebon's fireplace. There are a lot of weird details in this apartment, but that fireplace haunts my dreams, and when I can't stop fixating on things then I know they're good. Really good.

It's that little bit of obsession that makes me feel alive.

And crazy.