What is it about mason jars that makes them so endearing? And why are the colored ones most satisfying? And, why, oh why do I have an aversion to non-authentically tinted mason jars? Am I really such a snob? These are the questions I prefer to ponder on a Monday night instead of my usual theology of suffering fare.
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| via Nest of Posies |
These lanterns would be too shabby chic anywhere but staggered against plank walls and oak trees. Well played, Beeper Bebe.
Yes, you read this correctly. Pure. Genius. I will have arrived if I ever manage to pull this off. Where I will have arrived, I'm unsure, but I am convinced it will be someplace commendable. And definitely cute. And most probably super yummy.
The world is a better place. Now my absurd day dreams of finding treasure-holding mason jars nestled in shrubbery could, just possibly, become reality. This is an absolutely-fantastical-wondrous-poetic project that involves--get this--inserting art in mason jars and strategically hiding them for oddly observant or uncannily lucky folk. Forget geocaching--this is the new revolution!
Another unanswerable question this evening is why does my "Pomplamoose Rocks (Literally)" Pandora station play commercials about "minimally invasive gynecological surgery"? Evidently Cedar Sinai is one of the few hospitals in L.A. that offers fertility sparing fibroid surgery. So do Ingrid Michaelson, Snow Patrol, The Postal Service, Jimmy Eats World, and Weezer all scream, "No matter what the obstacles, this listener needs a baby!"? Rhetorical question, dear reader.
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