Michelle Adams' Apartment

Have you ever played that game where you imagined yourself to be in another form? For instance, if you could be a dog, what kind of dog would you be? That was a prosaic version of the game. Now, to get interesting, if you were to be a type of cocktail, what sort of glassware will we need to be putting you in? ;-p

Well, believe it or not, I've NEVER played that game, 'cos I never found what-ifs to be that intriguing of a game. Or maybe I'm just not adventurous that way. Strangest thing, though, (and these always come unexpectedly, doesn't it?) happened when I saw this apartment on Design*Sponge. The thought just came to me, instantaneously, that if I were an apartment, I would be that apartment. 

So tell me, is it time to check in with a therapist when one identifies oneself with an apartment? Or am I just *special*? Please, don't be honest.

Ants

Ants are proving to be the invisible hands of a higher being these days.

Having a notorious reputation for being hard to wake up, I have been known to sleep through construction noises and alarm clocks.  In fact, I am guilty of having murdered quite a few of the beeping nuisances in my lifetime. (Yes, I am aware that they are, however, a useful and necessary nuisance)

So bad am I at getting up in the morning that I have missed job interviews before and on one occasion, would have been late for my first day at work if not for my then-roommate who set her alarm to wake her up so that she can come into my room to shake me awake.

Have I proven my point yet? :-) 

Anyway, I have been keeping very bad hours recently and it's getting out of hand. I would get up only to realize I have missed not only breakfast but lunch as well, and was shamefully close to missing tea. My resolve to wake up at marginally normal hours has been met with slippery success.

Enter the ants that remind me of the fundamentalists who believe in sacrificing their body for what they perceive to be a greater good. I have, for three days in a row, been waking up at fairly decent hours thanks to one solitary ant each morning that would chomp down heartily on my bare skin, rendering my brain no choice but to scream awake. That's three consecutive days of seeing the sun on the east side of the house. And three days of being able to catch Martha Stewart on TV if I had so wanted. (I didn't)

And you know it's a different ant each time because, like I had alluded to the fundamentalists earlier, don't think for a minute that a waking giant isn't going to smite the very thing that causes it pain.

Yessiree, I am thankful for ants these days.

Full disclosure: I do not believe in religion. But I have to admit that I often cannot shake the feeling that there is a bigger force out there, to which no earthly labels apply.

Ryan McGinley

We used to share a class, and now he's a whole stratosphere ahead. His photographs are truly amazing, though, so if you haven't checked them out before, you can scope them out at his site.

I love his latest body of work, "I know where the summer goes", which just finished showing at Team Gallery in New York this past May. The images breathe life and vitality and the colors are so refreshing that I found myself wishing that this 'landscape' he's created is an amusement park that I can pay an entrance fee to escape into. If only.

Here's an article of him in the NY Times, from a year ago.

What kind are you?

Are you the kind of person who buys leather bags, or do you go for the vegan material and fabric-made bags? Philosophically, I lean towards the latter options, but hotdamnit if the leather ones don't pull at my heartstrings.

Top right: vegan Matt & Nat "Portishead", $250

Middle: leather Hayden-Harnett "Tharpe Hobo", $548

Left and bottom right: canvas Moop "Market Bag", $93

If I could zip around on an airborne Segway for the day…

I would have a leisurely brunch in Cafe biografen, Odense, taking in sunlight and maybe some music, followed by a stroll in Bagh-é Fin, a beautiful, historic garden in Iran. Sated with the beauty of nature, I'll pop by one of the few restaurants I can reliably count on for good food experiences in New York, Tia Pol. You have to be there early, or the line gets crazy. All that travelling is bound to tire a gal out so, for coffee, I'll just head home instead.

Provided, of course, airborne Segways do not rely on fossil fuel.

Bagh-é Fin image via here.