The Magic Nutshell

I'm as much of an anti-consumerist as the next financially-creative-by-necessity person, but as an artist, I just need to have fresh beauty around me sometimes. And I've worked out a pretty good system for obtaining bursts of that "updated" feeling in my home and wardrobe without buying a bunch of stuff every season. I've taken a cue from one of my historical muses, the Marchesa di Casati, to dive right into the glamorization of my own poverty, in the grand style of La Boheme.


First of all, I embrace the seasonal updates that nature provides free of charge. As a lifelong Midwesterner, I love the change of seasons--especially fall! I love the crisp, tangy flavor of the air. I love the warm, bold colors of nature, which can be gathered right out of the yard and pressed, strung, or arranged in vases. I love the electric sensation of newness all around as the dreamy summer starts to rust.

Time to get out the snuggly sweaters and chunky tweeds! Time to pile up furs an…

This fall, watch for the following nuts to drop...

Fashion Tips for the Starving Artist (how to be a little more like the Marchesa Luisa di Casati every day)"Raised with the Ragnarok" (how we talk to our child about death and religion)hopefully, a review of Rammstein's soon-to-be-released documentary (because Mommy still likes birthday presents)
It's getting dark in here, but don't worry. Each post will include sugar, spice, and the warm glow of a church-grade, beeswax candle.

Mommy had an accident this summer. A three-car accident, my fault, with my four-year-old daughter in the backseat. It was traumatic, humbling, and also profoundly soul-soothing because of the loving response of so many people who rushed to help.

On my way home from visiting family, I had a weird sun glare and didn't see a traffic light turn from green to yellow or to red.

Earlier this year, my daughter had started to ask questions--maybe from scary things she had heard at school, or from other adults, or with whatever mysterious radar system preschooler brains seem to have. "Are some police officers bad guys?" "How do you know if someone is a bad guy?" "Does our town have bad guys in it?"

I've tried to respect her healthy and age-appropriate sense of caution while trying to soothe her anxieties because strangers on the street--including police officers--are not likely to be dangerous to her. We read the Trouble with Strangers Berenstein Bears boo…