Project Runway is the most wonderful contest show on all of televisiondom. I'm watching Nina Chat on the reunion show (which is always a dishy delicious tid bit of yumminess) and BAM! It hit me. Tomorrow at 5:13pm I will be an hour into a million and a half hour transantlantic flight to Paris. As in France. Holy moley. I could probably die, I'm a Paris-neurotic with a cray cray mix of emotions in my longing for France heart. I mean I went to the store to buy sunscreen and I sat in front of the fifty kinds of spf for more time than is necessary for any normal human being to stand in front of any aisle anywhere. All because I was thinking about the fact that I wouldn't just be slathering that business on my little Ginger shoulders under just any sun or on any beach but under the Mediterranean sun on a beach in Nice. As in France. As in the south of France. Don't worry, I finally chose Banana Boat spf 50 aloe vera (good thing that I still had enough wits about me not to choose Coppertone . . .a rash on the beach in the south of France . . .not pretty) and now with an absolutely brimming heart (still full from a semester of discovery, elementary and lovelies) I say:

Paris m'attend parce que je t'aime!

A few weeks ago The Cast and I made a wee pilgrimage to the Topaz Japanese-American internment camp site. Going there is always such an interesting, sobering and enlightening experience. (besides, whenever I go to the tiny section of Delta Utah's historical society where the Topaz Museum tries to be, the museophile in me gets all fired up about getting those wonderful people and this important story some ever-lovin space). Walking on that hallowed ground is alot like I imagine stepping back in time would be like. We were always searching for things people left behind and the smallest thing felt like a direct link to those resilient and beautiful people. Here's some of the treasures we found Of course with my fascination with notions (sewing notions, that is, yes I go crazy for buttons, ribbon, rick rack, zippers . . .I could go all day) I fell in love with this little shell button.
It's the heel of a shoe. I almost cried when I saw that.
I wonder if the kid whose eraser this was liked to draw, do you think he was aware of all the art being made in the camp?We weren't sure what this was, but it's some kind of glass or something that someone had thrown into the cast-iron wood-burning stove in their barrack.
I love going there and listening to the wind (there's always wind at Topaz) and imagining what they must have felt looking over the desert to the mountains. Everyone ought to go, it is the type of experience that you can only get in a place where people really suffered and somehow triumphed. We went on a really beautiful day and The Cast is really great at capturing wherever we go. Look at these and tell me you can't see the shadow of a barrack and hear the wind whispering stories of strength and compassion.Jes took this lovely picture of Anna and I, aren't those colors of the landscape breathtaking in such a quiet way? Nearly the whole Cast plus Brilliant Director searching, I love this because I feel like it's so indicative of each person's self, I feel like these are the ways we each discovered A Thousand Cranes as well. What dear people.

I'm a cellist. A classically trained, plays concerti and symphonies, cellist who names her instruments after literary characters. Darcey is my one and only right now. I don't always tell people right away that I play the cello because then they start wanting you to put private concerts on and that's just pretentious (and there's one thing I try to avoid being if I can help it). I am most especially prone to keeping my musicality less than visible when I'm around people who write their own music, probably because . . .well heck, I'm not entirely sure, but I don't generally tell guitar players that I play the cello. It's not that I'm ashamed, I most certainly am not the cello is the sweet sweet instrument of love, sorrow, passion and peace. But somehow I let it slip to my very talented and quite known musical friends that I play the cello. And suddenly this girl who doesn't play when words are involved and never ever performs without music or memorized notes is playing gig (yes, it was just one, but when you're used to string quartets, a gig with a piano and a singer where other people play guitar and sing is a big fat deal) and recording music with her incredibly talented friends. Friday, after but a few minutes of rehearsal I laid down (I believe that's the technical recording term) a track with my darling friend Molly D. And it was fun. I recorded in a bathroom, it was one of the more hardcore things Darcey and I've done together.

Here she is at Guru's playing a song she wrote, that I lalalove:

She's fantastic, isn't she? You might be able to tell that there was in fact no cello . . .you'll just have to buy her album to hear it . . .and don't expect it to be with that song, because it won't be there. I felt like one of the cool kids and Darcey felt all liberated and legit because there are stickers and scratches on his case plus he made some really lovely sounds in that bathroom!

Although Provo can seem like a rather ho-hum place of Fat Katz and Panda Houses there are some dear little places that crop up and give me hope in the creative spirit of people in this town. This weekend Kirby, Jes and I went to The Cocoa Bean, it's a cupcake cafe. See:

It's a raspberry cheescake chocolate cupcake. Now if that doesn't make you happy, I don't know what will. The cupcakes are huge and perfect for sharing (not too expensive if you share, about $2 for a big cupcake) and they have daily flavors they make fresh. But don't take my word for it just listen to these raving and credible reviews:

Well I did it. Something I haven't dramatically done in a long long time. I'll give you a little hinty-poo

That's right. I got myself a hair cut. And boy were my hairs cut! My darling friend Jes agreed to give me a trim, but then I did one of the more impulsive things in my life and decided just on the spot to let her go all out. And when I did this is what started to happen: 

It was just one of the more fun things in my week to have her and Kirby play hairdresser and wingman, we listened to French music and they kept telling me how pretty I looked. Is there anything much better than that? Pas de tout! C'est la meilleure chose! Regarde:

Doesn't it look about as precious as you could get. It's my Paris haircut, because heaven knows I can't do anything in my life without relating it back to Paris. Here's another view (and I let you guess at what hour of the night this beauty was taken)

Doesn't it just look exactly like a Paris haircut. Imaginez. This is a haircut you can walk to the boulangerie with and feel like a local. 

(Well, I was hoping to have a whole new blog look to match my new adventure in 2010 . . .but this secret note is resistant to change. I guess I can't blame it, but oh I wish it would change. Anyway, I wanted to give my note a makeover because something new and exciting is happening and I want it to match. So pardon the disgruntled look on my face)
It's official! The day I've waited for all of my Ginger life is fast approaching. Yes, the day I get a stamp in my passport! Guess who's going to Paris in le printemps? Moi, mais oui! And I'm busting at the seams about it. Everywhere I do, I think: I wonder what it'll be like to do such an one activity in Paris. Every dollar I nearly spend I think: what could I buy in Paris with that (now, I know a dollar won't buy much, but at least the blessed Euro is more forgiving of my puny dollar than the pound). And you best believe that every shoe I covet and every dress I could die for I covet and die for because I imagine myself walking about Paris in them. So far I have a pair of red keds. I call them my Paris shoes, it helps keep it concrete for me. And I've already decided that dresses will be my wardrobe staple as I'm living la vie en rose. So stay tuned for this Ginger's Path to Paris, the first step is the toothless smile and pricey pocket passport. I couldn't be happier about the prospect of having an unattractive picture taken of me than I am right at this very nearly passport moment.

Oh it is Autumn! I want to just bathe in the golds and reds that are all around this year. I'm not entirely sure what it is, but this year the colors are more vibrant and transcendent than any other Utah Fall I've experienced. The mountains are so festive and lovely and I have the distinct urge to go hiking (which might fade into the desire to go for a long country walk, of a more 19th century persuasion) and to buy real wood pencils, lined paper and sit in front of a fire scribbling away at a theme or vocabulary word chart. And then there's the fashion. Can we just talk about my latest obsession: textured/patterned tights. Oh for the dear sweet love! I've always been a hosiery girl myself, but I didn't understand real tights-love until I bought a pair of JCrew green lace-esque tights. They're so British Isles as to make me want to die and the color is delectable. But it doesn't stop there, what about the blue paisley pair or my red plaid tights?! I tell you what, you can change your day with a pair of fantastic tights and don't be bothered by the up and down stares you get on campus (they're just jealous in their hiking boots. Right? Right!) Plus, legs look good in tights, there is no better way to just appreciate the nice lines of a leg than to see those lines highlighted by tights. I'm just saying is all . . .go get a pair and prepare for your Autumnal transformation.