Bemelmans.

Today has been good and not.
Swell.
But not like the swell you're thinking. Not like that classy swell of the gangsters in the 40s who wore two guns tight against their chests and ribs and walked arm-in-arm with the women who had the perfect curls and green dresses under black wool coats.
Just, swell.
Swollen. With everything and nothing at all. Because see, I've been staring at Ludwig Bemelman's illustrations for far too long now, studying for an oral presentation on Thursday, and I can't get over it. I just can't.
I want this so bad. And it's swelling. It's swelling up in my chest and pressing on everything and it hurts and I just want to throw my hands up in the air and be done with everything and start everything. It's killing me inside, how badly I want this. Need this. How much it swells.

Let's see what comes of it.

Prom dress searches, but who are you?

(Source unknown.)

Dear Fleur.

31 days left. 2 presents done. I'm thinking today I'll cram on the scavenger hunt. Those always take forever to make. But they are darling to put together. (I'm not gonna lie though. I hate running around in the dark at 2 in the morning taping painted clues onto STOP signs across the street. Not my choice of fun.)

I will tell you something secret even though I know Mandy will read this.
I want to get her a pair of those disguise glasses. Like the ones in the picture? With the nose and mustache. Oh jeah.
And I don't even know why.
I think it's because I want to find her a really amazing dress too. And have her wear that and the glasses so I can take dorky pictures of her with the camera.
I AM SO WEIRD.

Today my hair looks like a perm. Honestly it does. But I don't know. I kind of like the idea of painting in my kitchen with really poofy hair. So I think I'm happy about it.

I need to go do a photo shoot with my Taylor Swift dress.
And paint some.
And discuss secret things with Miss Ria. (I have this really amazing secret plan that I really hope is going to work.)

Where is my Madeline book?

Love. Bella.

when i was little i used to draw decently. now...not so much. but i can sew.

dear fleur.
3 days. before i get to be with the ocean. i am ecstatic. i kind of want to sit in the sand and draw ugly pictures.
i am not very good at drawing.
i want to be e.h.shephard and ludwig bemelmans. but my hands can't decide who they really are. i am more like a grossssssss bella who grimaces at too straight lines.
ugh.
i want to draw sweeter.

on another note, my tote bag is coming along. but i am tired of working on that. so i think i'll make something for kirstie instead. that should be nice. if only i can think of what to make her.
PAUSE.
i know. this is going to be lovely.
and
i want to go write. something gorgeous. there's this boy up here right now. he is sad. he misses her. and he has hair like bleached sunshine and a nose like hamlet. it is to die for.
i should practice drawing too.

love, bella.

yard.

dear fleur.
our computer crashed. like a man falling with a parachute that has a hole in it. so pretty much the only access i have to photos is weheartit. this could get interesting.

(via)

ria was just playing the piano.
tandy was curling her hair.
franny went for a walk.
dante is running around the yard.
daddy is in the garage.
mamie is in the kitchen.

YOU ARE HERE.
(see photo above.)
that's right. you're there. in my heart. not quite dead center, but positively in there. i think you know who you are.
you're my family.
my best friend.
that boy i made up in my head yesterday.
you're the curling iron.
ludwig bemelmans.
or my sweater.

you are here.

i feel pretty loving today.

on a sidenote, the pear tree has bloomed. now i'm patiently waiting for the lilacs to come out.
one word for today.
yardwork.
nice.

last night i dreamed i was doing yardwork. in my own yard. at my own house. a little white house. the lilacs had bloomed. i put them in my hair. and a little girl was outside with me. her name was 'madeline.' she was my little girl. with dark curly hair. and blue eyes. my husband was inside the house. he had blue eyes.
i laid down in the grass with madeline.
and i sang in her ear.
she kissed me.
and then my husband came outside to be with us.
and he laid down next to our daughter.
and he played with my hair above her head.
then he sang.

i loved them both.
and my yard.

so,
madeline,
you are here.
and my future husband too.

love, bella.

edit: i dream weird.

Little French Dream.

Dear Fleur.
So there's, ummm, french toast in the kitchen. Do you know what that means? No, you don't.
IT MEANS THAT TODAY WILL BE RAD.
And I don't even usually use the word "rad."

I'll be cracking out the sewing machine this morning.
My fingers are already covered in ink.
My hair still smells like peppermint.
I heard mention of a French Press&coffee...s'il vous plait Ria?
A girl is sitting on the sofa behind me playing an out-of-tune child's guitar. Darling.
There's one of the sweetest books in the world on my bed.
And there is that little stash of pink paper hearts calling my name.

The one word for this day:
Madeline.
I've kind of been obsessed with her. My life dream is to write something as amazing as Ludwig Bemelmans did. That would be so...rad.

Love from Bella.