Previously sold out but back in stock once again!

But one sits smartly on my desk, at last!

I’m thinking of taking it and a thin stack of books on an early Spring stroll and pretending I’m an Algebra-obsessed exchange student in Osaka, circa 1981.

Just seems like the right thing to do.

“…in the world, on March 2nd get to a TV.”

Twenty one years ago tonight, I did just as the voice commanded and knelt my 7th grade self in front of the biggest TV in our house. The commercial for the commercial underlined just how serious it would be.

The fainter and closer to eternal loss that a memory is, the more I love it…

For a long while, I could still picture the diner dance party, the Catholic school girls, and the skunky striped hair-do as clearly as I did the burning crosses and the waxy black Jesus.

But when one set of chaste images is banned after only one airing, sending the blasphemous others into ubiquitous iconography, of course my memories are bound to darken at different rates.

At last, through the power and glory of internet video, all are again resurrected, forever and ever. A-men.

Incense is for hemped up hippy-dips and candles can get a little soccer mom-ish. The “hot” new way to play with fragranced fire is with Armenia Papers.

Florentine pharmacist Santa Maria Novella offers an abundance of dramatic costume-drama-like cosmetics and tonics, and their frankincense and myrrh-scented Armenia Papers singe away the stagnant staleness of our modern days with a cinematic sense of ceremony.

Sized like a stick of gum, each scented stick is to be folded back and forth like an accordion, set on its side, and set aflame, to fill your room and your soul, once again, with a sense of romance and of warmth.

Don’t let anyone tell you it’s something to feel ashamed of.

Life is never as simple as magazine layouts lead us to believe, but if it were, I’d give a swift-kick to my sedentary work week, take a hatchet to my iMac and join up with this blue-collared dude and his so-called “Workman” wardrobe.

According to the article earnestly-earned paint splotches and callused palms are the required finishing touches on the Workman uniform, which poses a personal problem for me since, last time I checked, Blackbird Ballard offered neither on their webshop. Uh oh.

But what I like about Esquire’s indigo-ed icon for its Workman look is its upperclass undercurrents. Soon as this dude finishes his well-earned smoke break he looks more likely to head Uptown into a Kiehls store than down some shaft into a Colorado coal mine, which sagely aims the look away from cliché costumery and into realistic wearability.

Minus the Marlboro and one of his four tops – I’d dutifully work the Workman uniform exactly as pictured.

First off, I scorned its lack of a built-in flash, and being that it arrived without a manual no matter which golden dial I turned or tweaked, I couldn’t even open the blasted thing to load a test roll of film.

The device was demoted unceremoniously to knick-knack status, but since then, it’s become one of my favorite objets décoratifs. Like an opulent little czar it roosts regally near my front door illiciting wide-eyed oohs and ahhs from nearly all who enter.

I tried today once again to unlock its mystifying film chamber but still it refused to budge. I no longer curse its opulent uselessness, however. I’ve plenty of plain and plasticky cameras to get, you know…productive with. My snaky little Leica deserves to just sit about in lazy, good-looking luxury and otherwise not do a thing.

And so…while this Aubin & Wills tartan tote tickles all my fancies, I don’t think we really, truly belong together.

It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just bad timing…

The Honeycomb & Vanilla ones are made with Bourbon Vanilla, no less, and they’re gritty to the tooth – crispy little crystals crinkling inside the creamy, classic chocolate.

I was imagining hunky chunks of honeycomb inside and, well…I guess I still am.

And if I could have them all, I would – quite gladly.

(And, note to self:
Invest in some overalls.)

taking care of your kicks…

when you’re oil cans of tin…

look as polished as this.