I love pottery. I f*cking love it, and if this revelation makes me a fusty old marm in your book, well then, as soon as I steep my Darjeeling and wrap myself in a quilt, I will have no more to do with you. I particularly love Edgecomb pottery from Maine, and, over the weekend, my duo of Edgecomb vases became a badass trio.
The original pair:
One, a gift for myself:
And the other, a gift from the lovely Martini:
Now joined by this pimp ice blue number from Our Favorite New Englanders:
In other news, we recently watched Man on Wire, which was phenomenal. While unbridled enthusiasm generally gives me the whim-whams, Philippe Petit was just impish and ingenuous enough for me not to hate him. Or maybe it was the rarity of his "coup" that saved it for me. I mean, when was the last time you did an almost impossible thing simply because it thrilled you with its beauty? I'm not pointing fingers - I won't even bake cookies if I'm not assured of adoring and wildly appreciative consumers. Just saying.