I don’t even really like snoballs. And goodness knows they aren’t exactly part of a healthy diet. But I was somehow saddened to hear that Hostess, the parent company that makes Twinkies, Ding Dongs, HoHos (my personal favorite of the bunch) and yes…the ever nutritious snoballs, has filed for chapter 11 bankruptcy protection. While the company has enough inventory on hand to keep the product on store shelves for the moment, who’s to say what will happen down the pike. I remember one particular milestone birthday when my friend Carol assembled a care package and had it waiting for me at a hotel in ICELAND! The parcel contained custom party hats, a homemade banner spelling out happy birthday, various small licorice candies, the requisite birthday candles and, you guessed it, a pack of bright pink snoballs.

Believe it or not, there are very few things that I actually covet. This blanket is one of them. Although, truly, we don’t need another. Well, maybe… Available at Ancient Industries. Check out their blog while you’re there.

I went to buy a couple of new alarm clocks yesterday — we have a cat who is occasionally unruly and hurls everything on the bedside tables to the floor. no clock could stand up to such repeated abuse — and was reminded of how truly ridiculous we designers can be sometimes. As I was standing at the counter trying to decide between the black version or the white one and back again, the soft-spoken, very design-ey gentleman in charge of the shop inquired in the nicest way possible, “Does it really matter?” Instead of taking offense, as perhaps I should have, I burst out laughing. He’s right, it doesn’t freaking matter. It’s a clock for crying out loud. It’s unobtrusive, simple, well-designed. Who cares if it’s white or black? Would it really make a difference in my life one way or another? It’s not going to work better if it’s one color versus another. This particular clock is a re-issue of a design originally created in the 90s by Dietrich Lubs and Dieter Rams for Braun. Oh, and for the record, I bought two black ones.

I feel more than fortunate to be able to spend time in both country and city. The contrast between rural and urban gives rise to an appreciation of place that I am not sure I would possess otherwise. I was looking at my photos from the summer and was so struck by the visual world I have just left behind. My husband took that first photograph of the young buck. The deer was fearless and refused to abandon his patch of ground full of fallen apples. That last photo was taken on Grand Street in lower Manhattan. A different sort of beauty.

In the process of emptying out my wallet, I found this fortune. I’ve been toting it around for the past month or so. At first I thought, hmnnn, this is good, I am almost there. The there part being where I want to be. But then I quickly realized that their “there” might not be the same as my there. I’m swearing off fortune cookies for awhile. I can’t handle this sort of ambiguity.