Thanks, fellow time travelers, for your comments, and you're welcome, too!
It was a different time -- maybe not entirely realistic -- but something sweet we all could latch onto.
Best wishes . . .
we've all gotten a little older (the beav was about 60 at the time this was taken):.
.
Thanks, fellow time travelers, for your comments, and you're welcome, too!
It was a different time -- maybe not entirely realistic -- but something sweet we all could latch onto.
Best wishes . . .
there is no road in the desert, yet you chance upon my friendless camp.. was it stars that led you to me or two yearning hearts become conjoined?.
i envision a most lovely you, but you're just a dream of what i once knew.. remote i remain in my desert abode while stars and your spirit sail on by..
It could not possibly have been a more arduous journey, this traverse across a diabolical union of both shifting sands and searing winds. Water has become the most precious but rarest of commodities.
I seek shelter. I seek water. Many a phantom mirage has loomed up before my scorched eyeballs. An optic message relayed to a mind weary and anxious for any shred of assuagement is most desperately entertained. My logic has become suspect, if, in fact, there remains any ability to work my way through this predicament.
As in my earlier trek, I find a disconcerting comfort in the song of the pharaohs that plays upon an unforgiving wind. It is a dirge that haunts this broken man, a derelict whose termination perches ominously upon the illusory desert horizon.
there is no road in the desert, yet you chance upon my friendless camp.. was it stars that led you to me or two yearning hearts become conjoined?.
i envision a most lovely you, but you're just a dream of what i once knew.. remote i remain in my desert abode while stars and your spirit sail on by..
With grateful thanks to Gertrude Bell . . .
there is no road in the desert, yet you chance upon my friendless camp.. was it stars that led you to me or two yearning hearts become conjoined?.
i envision a most lovely you, but you're just a dream of what i once knew.. remote i remain in my desert abode while stars and your spirit sail on by..
There is no road in the desert, yet you chance upon my friendless camp.
Was it stars that led you to me or two yearning hearts become conjoined?
I envision a most lovely you, but you're just a dream of what I once knew.
Remote I remain in my desert abode while stars and your spirit sail on by.
we've all gotten a little older (the beav was about 60 at the time this was taken):.
.
Yes, Morpheus, connecting and reconnecting is what it's all about!
Thanks for taking a stroll down memory lane. That show was a big part of my life. The Beav is my age.
we've all gotten a little older (the beav was about 60 at the time this was taken):.
.
we've all gotten a little older (the beav was about 60 at the time this was taken):.
.
We've all gotten a little older (the Beav was about 60 at the time this was taken):
hi, cosmo.. my name is rosemarie.
i come from a long line of wonderful italian cooks and chefs.
however, it seems i am missing the cuisnart gene.
hi, cosmo.. my name is rosemarie.
i come from a long line of wonderful italian cooks and chefs.
however, it seems i am missing the cuisnart gene.
Dear Cosmo:
I am beside myself with anger in livid color!
My pet beavers, Leva and Tuu, have occupancy of the master bath, their aqueous home being the not small Roman tub. Being the literate and clever cleavers they are, Leva and Tuu went through my entire collection of ARCHITECTURAL DIGEST and HYDRAULICS FOR DAILY LIVING and conspired to render them into a dam spanning the estimable breadth of said Roman tub.
What shall I do?
June
Dear June,
Send the Beavs to college. Get new magazines (back copies are pricey but eminently obtainable).
Rather than allowing yourself to get bent all out of shape and giving these rascally rodents the business, I'd recommend that you should see the aqueous humour in this incident fraught with mandible mirth!
Dam droll, but I do sympathize. No one touches my ADs!
CC
hi, cosmo.. my name is rosemarie.
i come from a long line of wonderful italian cooks and chefs.
however, it seems i am missing the cuisnart gene.
Dear Cosmo,
I am stuck in a time warp of sorts, decor-wise.
My childhood home was very nice but dull and uninspired. Mother had good taste and Dad allowed her to buy any furniture she wanted. It all came from a rather tony establishment, H.H. Croft and Sons, as I recall. It wasn't that the furniture was unattractive. The problem was the artificial and impractical arrangement of the pieces in the living room and dining room, in particular.
While my husband and I haven't the means to go out and buy like my parents did (I do have some of my parent's upholstered furniture and occasional pieces), I find myself reverting to old patterns that are pleasant to look at but say, "You may look but do not touch!" We want to live in all our rooms and not be neurotic about a little clutter or an odd but novel approach to things.
Do you have any suggestions, just for starters?
Thank you for your time.
Jeannie Glover
Dear Jeannie:
Our beloved Cosmo is on a buying junket in Istanbul but has, nevertheless, forwarded your inquiry.
Let us say that that decor, circa-1950 (an estimate of your parent's era), was an incalculable misdemeanor of faux pas dementia, and you are certainly justified in coming to your designing senses, no disrespect intended toward your poor misguided but, well . . . misguided parents! May they rest in peace. (They have passed on, I assume.)
We'll chat later about cozy, intimate areas for meaningful conversation amongst friends who pay you a visit; how to render more open and accessible your hurly burly traffic areas; how to emphasize minimally through understated elegance; and how to visualize and understand spatial concepts with regard to opening up a tiny room both metaphorically and literally (no need to go hammer-and-tongs with a sledge hammer).
Cheerio!
Staff Dweeb