Marrakech: and a tale of a powder room of one's own

My tiny powder room at Peacock Pavilions is, cough, a bit unusual. 

You're never quite sure what you'll see.  But there are extra eyes in case you need them. (And you just might.)

 
There are thing that I found.  That I made. That I was sent. 

 
There are even love notes and stories.

 
And surprises hidden in envelopes that you pull out with a ribbon.

Almost-Miss America lives in there.

Along with the strangest fairy.  

As well as more romantic characters.
 

There are song birds that sing...

And even a giraffemanaged to squeeze in (?!?!)

 
  The Mad Hatter keeps telling me it's mad. 

But then again he says that about everything.....

 

Happy powdering....

Peacock Pavilions: and a handmaiden's tale

It's mid-December.  And Peacock Pavilions is still not open.  (hand wringing)

Delays, more delays.  (head in hands)  

But I'm trying to get it right.  I'm trying to make it worthy.  Worthy of someone like you.  (hands motioning forward)

Please, oh please, let it be open by March 1.  (hands in prayer)

Hallway in three bedroom pavilion.  Framed suzani embroidery from Uzbekistan on the wall, rattan chair found in the Marrakech souks and painted black, Egyptian tent cloth on the chair, old Persian runner on the floor, tall chevron French doors casting shadows, stairs painted with Moroccan henna designs by Melanie Royals and the Peacock Painters.

Marrakech: a tale of life and a recipe for pure extract

Here's the thing:  I don't like artificial flavors.  I prefer the genuine article -- the real deal, the bonafide, the true.  Because life is really too short, isn't it?  So forget the make believe.  Forget the supermarket fakery, the Stepford Wife veneer.  Even if it's painful...say no to lying to yourself and to others.  Say no to pretending that things are different than they really are.  You might be surprised at what happens.  It might taste strange at first.  But then again, in the long run, it's likely to taste better.......... and be better for you....

And in that spirit....a recipe for real Vanilla Extract. 

Ingredients:

One bottle of vodka, preferably the kind with the not-so-perfect English in fine print on the label (bringing to mind men huddled over a fire wearing large fur hats). 

Scrub off the label -- you're starting fresh, after all....

 
   
12+ vanilla beans.  Redolent of Madagascar.  Or perhaps, Mexico or Indonesia.  Make far off lands yours..........

Bring the two together....

 Add the vanilla beans - split or whole - directly to the bottle of vodka.  Don't be scared.

Suddenly...things are looking hopeful. Almost like a tale of new beginnings...

  Store in a dark cool place for at least a month (but take all the time you need).  Then use. 

And enjoy.....

Marrakech: a tale of embroidery and the too busy girl

I'm too busy.
I'm too busy to blog.
I'm too busy to answer emails.
I'm too busy to sleep.

I have so many balls in the air that -- although I dart from side to side to try to catch them all -- one falls.  And then another....

I long for the ability to do things well, to do things properly, to do things as they should be done.  
But I settle for less.  I settle for mediocre. Because I am too busy to do otherwise. 

In my next life, I'll have time.  
There will be hours on end ....
to pay attention to details.  To making things perfect.
To embroidering.  Fine little stitches, one after another. 

Embroidering fabric.  
Or perhaps... 
embroidering my life.

Just right.

Embroidery from Palestine.

 
  
 
Crewelwork from Kashmir, India

 
 
  Embroidery from Uzbekistan.

 Embroidery from Egypt.

Vintage embroidery from China.