Pink Snow

I got caught in a painful bluster of snow on my way home today. I couldn't see where I was going. My face ached. I thought I turned down my street. I did not. I was still three streets away.

I'm safe inside now. And dry. And fed. My first-ever eBay bid was successful and a digital camera is on its way. I think this thing called "online shopping" might take off :)

I'm in a February frame of mind. Which means I'm partially frozen, dreaming of hibernation, and slightly craving pink things.

Ridiculous pink idea of the day: I should buy Betsey Johnson's place in New York (Can't be that hard to secure a $3.6 million loan). I may be at the only time and place in my life where I can justify über-girlie decorating. Because there's a semi-decent chance that I won't live alone forever (Please, God. Hint, hint). And I wretch at the idea of feminine, floral master bedrooms. If a guy lives there, it should look like it (and not just evidenced by his dirty socks on the floor).

Check out the pinkness:


I bet I could write a pretty great chick-lit novel in that place. Curled up on my sofa in monogrammed velour lounge wear, I'd be scribbling down witticisms and typing the winter blues away. And I would host legendary Valentine's Day bashes. I would probably buy a kitten and name it Meg Ryan. No, I'd buy two: Harry and Sally. And I'd start getting weekly manicures. I might even wear heels on the subway.

P.S. For those new to the world of Nadine, don't worry. Or vomit. I'm more of a farmhouse girl. Or country cottage. I don't do pink carpet. With or without a man, I'd probably spend my $3 million elsewhere.

P.P.S. Heels + public transit = premature death.