Stop The Presses!

Earlier this summer, at a suburban Marshall's, I spotted a pair of pewter gladiator flats with oodles of adjustable buckles (Our Heroine loves buckles) with which I fell in love, but which - in a rare instance of maturity and self-denial - I decided I couldn't afford, and so put back on the shelf.

Almost immediately I regretted my decision, but it was a few days before I could go back for the shoes, and when I did, ALAS! they were gone. I was not stoic about my loss, and for the last six weeks I have done nothing but wail and gnash my teeth over them. My friends have grown quite tired of it, I suspect.

But tonight there are glad shoe tidings! I was driving around suburbia with Mum, who spotted a Marshall's and suggested we go in and see if my gladiator sandals were available. They weren't, but I found a pair of shoes that I am happy to rebound with: Etienne Aigner, multi-colored patent leather, TWO sets of buckles(!), an ankle strap, and best of all, a high, thick heel. Voila!
I can't wait to wear them with textured tights in the fall, and did I mention they only cost me $19?

Marshall's can sometimes be a trial for the spirit, but if you're diligent and persevere, other times something wonderful happens.

Sisters of the Polyester Pantsuit

Remember when I said that Episcopalians make Catholics feel better about our troubles? Well, here are a couple of our troubles:

Oh dear. The bongos say it all. But if you really need to read more, click here. Our Heroine thinks that Vatican visitation may be just the thing.

You mustn't get the wrong idea. Our Heroine loves nuns, and she loves "nun-gazing" (more so now I've been reading The Crescat). So as an antidote to the bongos, I give you this image a dear, sweet sister:

Image via The Crescat

If it weren't for the coffee, I'd have no identifiable personality whatsoever

A cup of coffee
Victor-Gabriel Gilbert

Up so early, my lovelies, and I'm not sure why. Day is still cool, and I watched the sun come up with the most delicious cup of coffee I've had in recent memory, all steamy and toasted.

I like how the lady in Gilbert's picture is holding her cup so daintily, her wee pinky extended. Even all by herself in the scullery, she's still a girl through and through.

Me? I am holding my cardboard cup in one big Irish paw and cussing the peasant ancestors that deprived me of glorious slim digits.

Side note: I want that apron.

Title Credit: David Letterman

O Sad Pompeii!

Today in AD 79, poor Pompeii was destroyed.

The Destruction of Pompeii in 79 AD
Karl Pavlovich Bryullov

From Pliny the Younger's letter to Tacitus:

[snip] They tied pillows on top of their heads as protection against the shower of rock. It was daylight now elsewhere in the world, but there the darkness was darker and thicker than any night. But they had torches and other lights. They decided to go down to the shore, to see from close up if anything was possible by sea. But it remained as rough and uncooperative as before.

Resting in the shade of a sail he (Pliny the Elder) drank once or twice from the cold water he had asked for. Then came an smell of sulfur, announcing the flames, and the flames themselves, sending others into flight but reviving him. Supported by two small slaves he stood up, and immediately collapsed. As I understand it, his breathing was obstructed by the dust-laden air, and his innards, which were never strong and often blocked or upset, simply shut down. When daylight came again 2 days after he died, his body was found untouched, unharmed, in the clothing that he had had on. He looked more asleep than dead.[snip]

Our Lady of Pompeii, pray for them!