Happy clothes

Whenever I rewatch the season premiere or finale of any of my favorite series, I try to muster the headspace of those excitedly watching it for the first time. It's finally here! I've been waiting all week! My wine is poured. The lighting is right. Oh special day!

The show I've rewatched the most of is Sex and the City. Above you see Carrie in the season premiere of season 5. She's just been caught in the rain after trying to go to the Guggenheim on the weekday they aren't open. This is the episode that she "dates" her city. Under this awning she talks to a silent handsome stranger, who finds her spirited chattiness too crazy and runs away. Such is dejection.

Although not something I'm likely to wear, I love this outfit. I want that skirt. I want that orange-red jacket, which I will never wear with that skirt. I do not want that pink top (blagh). But overall, I cheer for its cheeriness. There's not enough of this in the world. Sure you look chic in your neutral top, boots, and skinny jeans, but could you imagine if everyone dressed like that? Kill me now. Lighten up people!

As I've said before, people afraid of color are not to be trusted.

This is also the episode that Miranda debuts her nursing nipples and takes Brady out on the town. Her choice of a carrier befuddles me. Behold...

Isn't that a carrier for a car seat? If you don't have a car, isn't this kinda pointless? I've carried babies around in these before (to and from cars) and they are not at all for the long haul. Ergonomic disasters! Maybe they are trying to show how clueless Miranda really is in her new baby world.

And another thing - how do city folk who take cabs transport their babies? Miranda surely isn't strapping that kid into the proper base for the cab ride. Do cabbies just allow people to hold their little ones in the back, a la the 1970's? Is there a special exemption to the law here?

Color me confused.

Adventures in pickling

I'm a slacker. It's quite sad. I buy every organic jalapeno sold by the sweet-faced farmers' market teenager. I'm pickling them!, I say. I don't really care!, she thinks.

The earth spins. The recipe for my August cookbook challenge sits open on the table. The jalapenos decay in my fridge.

Although they are salvageable, I buy more. This time from an exceedingly disinterested teenager from a different farmers' market. I'm picking them!, I say. Six dollars, he shrugs.

And now, I pickle. Except for using canning tongs, I follow the recipe to the letter.

Pickling is fun. One day I'll buy those tongs I need. But I like a challenge.

Why did I make pickled jalapenos? I don't even eat pickled jalapenos. One brave bite and I couldn't feel my lower lip for like an hour. I like sweet hot pickles, so why didn't I adjust the sugar? And they're not as crisp as I wish they were. How the FUCK do you pickle something and keep it crisp? Once I get past the vinegar onslaught, I notice the jalapeno flavor. It's quite good.

But still, what am I gonna do with all these? Anybody want some pickles?

Coming out

Earlier this summer I told my sisters and parents that I had been running an anonymous blog for two years. It was time they knew. This blog is something I enjoy doing, and they might be interested.

They were... not. They were unphased, essentially.

Who's e.francis supposed to be? What does that even mean? Who would ever see this? 

I explained that e.francis was a pseudonym and no one really reads it. Ahh, family. So humbling.

Later this summer I decided to join Instagram for me/e.francis. It was time for Ms. Francis to have a first name. Those who stumble upon Dots might feel a closer connection when the author is not hiding her first name. Eve was available to satisfy the initial "e", which never meant anything in particular. So now I'm Eve. 

Only you, a stumbler upon, and I will know that Eve Francis is a pseudonym, and that she used to go by just E.

Eve Francis is here!

Eve Francis on Instagram. I don't have a real knack for taking insta-worthy pictures with my cell phone, nor do I like spending lots of time, pausing my day, trying. I did determine, however, that I want the point of my picture feed to be recording things that make me happy. It's an Eve Francis happy memories series.

The person who got me interested in Instagram was Phyllis Grant, and the reason I found her was a post on Dinner a Love Story. From Dash and Bella I found 5 Second Rule and her Instagram. Fun fact -- I had pizza the same exact day both Phyllis and Cheryl posted about it from California. Crazy. I know. Just sit with it.

The book on the left was so good, I wanted to remember it. This was when my Instagram earned its theme of 'things that make me happy (and negligent photography)', recorded with just a simple picture and a few words. When this came to light I went through my feed and had to delete one picture that didn't fit. It was a picture of all of my non-organic tea, captioned with what was on my mind about the matter. Not happy.

I will most definitely be buying the My New Roots book in 2015. On the right, a stunning picture from Cheryl Sternman Rule.

In addition to foodies, I follow my share of designers/stylists/DIYers, like Emily and Jenny.

So, that's it.

E is out. Eve is here. And I'm in charge.

Welcome!

Pictorial past and present

And now, some completely unedited pictures of things I've been looking at lately.

Most pictures taken to remember to write about them.

Here, a tease for what else I might say:

canvas bag painting with niece and nephew

following goddesses

the right book at the right time

farmers' market flowers

   

hot pink

this snuggle pants and new nailpolish