This is a new phone designed as an homage to Joe Colombo (Italian, 1930-1971). It's about $60 here. Such a nice alternative in a market flooded with gross land line phones. Have you tried to buy a land line phone recently? Good luck. They look like cheap, toy rocketships or remote controls with antenae. Why can't it just be a nice phone? Same problem exists in the world of cell phones (I like a blackberry for emailing and a phone for calling people, I know, crazy but it's just how I prefer things). I don't text message, I don't listen to music on the phone, I don't watch videos, I just want to make a call now and then. GIVE ME A PLAIN PHONE. Anyway..this one's pretty for the house.
Maybe I like it becuase it's available in this beautiful persimmon color. Colombo's a design legend. My mom used to have the Boby storage unit pictured here, in red, next to her drafting table. I have very fond girlhood memories of rooting through the swing out drawers on the hunt for pencils or any other supplies for projects I may have been working on.
Also, you can't buy a kid a toy phone that looks like a land line phone anymore because they have no reference point for what the hell it is. All they know is the Blackberry...and ohhhh do they love the Blackberry. Bye bye vintage Fisher Price phone, you are an outdated weird object that could be a robot or a dumptruck for all baby knows...
After Bodhi's pediatrician appointment this week, I nipped into the Apthorp Pharmacy (so fancy it's more like Barney's than Duane Reade - even post makeover) to look for a new hairbrush for him. I had a jiggy little European number that I lost...boo...so I've been on the hunt for something good. I scoped out some Swiss ones in a display case and had a saleslady open it for me to get a closer look. But after telling her that Bodhi is 18 mos old, she clucked and said "no, no, no. These are for babies." She fiddled with some keys and bent over to open a drawer below the case. She popped back up with this beautiful Mason Pearson sweetie, in heavy, gorgeous light blue. Somehow it's not a cloying light blue. It's deeper, nice. She said, "he needs this."
I love my jumbo Mason P brush. More often than not, I just run a comb through my hair after my shower and walk out the door, but when a good brushing is in order, nothing moves the oils around and smooths like the MP paddle. Boar bristle, baby. And mostly handmade. And that's something these days.
P.S. - You know what else they sell at the Apthorp Rx? Snuffles! (You know I bought him).
Slowpoke, the Beanie Baby sloth, was a gift from Aunty Molly. He is one of Bodhi's favorite plush friends. Slowpoke reads books with us, gets tucked in, has "sips" from Bo's bottle and sleeps with us 'til morning if he doesn't fall on the floor in the wee hours of the night. Sometimes when Bodhi is drifting off, he gently pets Slowpoke's little plastic nose.
Someone out there in the world is crazy for Slowpoke and made a Geocitiesphotoblogthat features the sloth out and about. Here he is at the zoo:
I'm a Hi-Low fashion gal. I like to mix it up. Gimme some Lanvin and gimme some Target. Ebay dress and Wolford tights. Whatever works. I like to think I can make anything look like a million bucks. Ha! Certainly, Bodhi can.
As I get back into blogging for Kyewt, as a mom, you'll find, not surprisingly, that I am a highly opinionated baby clothes shopper. There's a lot of bad out there (most of what's at Macy's, Izod, Hurley and other big brand bullshit, think obnoxious screen prints and poor construction) and lots of good out there (surely your kid is going to look terrific of you're only hitting baby row on upper Madison Avenue). But as Autumn has blown in, I have come to the realization that all of those $90 pants (vertical baby wale cords, sweet gathered styles with piping, fancy jeans) from last year don't fit the boy anymore. Doy. His legs have gone from beetle to grasshopper. Not to mention he's not being carried around like a tiny pocketbook these days! He's a rough and tumble toddler, sloshing in the sandbox and jumping at Gymboree. He needs sweats. Cheap, cute sweats. I found them at Kmart. They're perfect, from the thickness of the fleece to the elastic ankles. And the don't say OLD NAVY or BABY GAP (so annoying). They say nothing and they are divine. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh and they cost $4. Get them here.
I know Kmart's shitty and there are consequences to buying cheap goods and it's bad for the planet and for the USA and the universe but you're gonna have to excuse me this time. Sorry.
From 1946. Little Fur Family by Margaret Wise Brown, pictures by Garth Williams.
I discovered this book on one of my first trips to Books of Wonder with Bodhi, while I was still in the dreamy haze of new motherhood and the lazy days of maternity leave. As soon as I read it, I fell in love. No one writes poetic children's stories like Margaret Wise Brown (she of Goodnight Moon and The Runaway Bunny fame), and I have to say, this one's my favorite. It's wacky, mysterious, enchanting, hypnotic and brilliant. This gentle lullaby stars three unidentifiable mammals (that strangely look a lot like um...my family!)...it begins:
There was a little fur family warm as toast smaller than most in little fur coats and they lived in a warm wooden tree.
What an intro. The little fur child (that's his name) has a lovely bath then heads out for a solo, woodland adventure. He visits his Grandpa and then encounters some other creatures - fish in a river, a flying bug and (Bodhi loves this part)...
Then he caught a little tiny tiny fur animal. The littlest fur animal in the world. It had warm silky fur and even a little fur nose. So he kissed it right on its little fur nose and put it gently back in the grass and the little tiny tiny fur animal ran down a hole into the ground.
YES! It's like a kyewt acid trip!
The little fur child heads home to a hot supper and his big fur parents and gets tucked into bed. The book ends with:
...they tucked him in bed all soft and warm and they held his paw and they sang him a song: Sleep, sleep our little fur child out of the windiness, out of the wild Sleep warm in your fur, all night long, In your little fur family. This is a song. You have to sing the last page. A fun challenge. My melody has been the same for a while - it's not very good, but I do my best. The illustrations by Garth Williams (A Cricket In Times Square, Bedtime For Francis and so many many more) are just fantastic. Oh, and you can buy the fur edition, completely covered in cuddly faux fur. Loves.
As cute as branded apparel in teensy sizes is, I have opted not to dress Bodhi in much logo-ed gear (the Bape hoody is allll his father's and his father's friends' doing).
But these? Had to get 'em.
I mean, these kids, they REALLY love Sesame Street. Mine included. Things have changed since the Sesame Street of yesteryear (ahem, the '70s) and there are girl muppets (Hate. Them. All.), Spanish-speaking muppets (Hate. Them. So. Much.) and at the center of everything... Elmo. Sweet Elmo. I disliked him for years from afar, but now that I'm all up in the Street again, I have to say, he's diva, sugar and sunshine all wrapped up in red fur.
I chose this model not only for the good colorway, but out of respect for sweet Grover. Since Elmo's stepped on the scene, Grover now almost always plays a very goofy, sort of cracked out second fiddle. He's like Elmo's dumb, crazy and old friend. But damn, he used to be the man! Er, monster.