Showing posts with label Charlotte Moss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Charlotte Moss. Show all posts

Christmas Countdown – Day 24

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

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The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

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When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

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The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

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His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

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He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

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He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a Good-Night!"

Master Suite

May all of your designing dreams come true! ~ Wanda

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Here's What's So Great About My House . . . and Yours, Too.

On My Bookshelf

Two things inspired this post today. 

The first ... I just read a passionate tirade from a person who disliked another's home. A lot, as a matter of fact. It surprised me. No kind words uttered. Maybe it's the southern girl in me, but if I say something negative, I figure it's only good manners to find something positive to share, too. As a field editor, I can honestly say that while I don't always "click" with some of the homes I see, I can almost always find something I like. For instance, I like when people are proud of their homes. I like it when they share ideas (even if I don't relate to them).  And I like when people celebrate their own individual style. Like these ladies: 


This living room belongs to Ella King Torrey, president 
of San Francisco Art Institute.

You may or may not "click," as I say, with the room above. But don't you love that this person lives her life in ways that make her happy? The second inspiration for today's post is a book by Chris Casson Madden, titled "Room of Her Own: Women's Personal Spaces".

Can you guess? This room belongs to Victoria MacKenzie-Childs.
You might be familiar with this designer's dishware and furniture.
(sorry it's a bit fuzzy. where's my tripod?!)

I enjoy this book -- so much so that it inspired this series of posts:
I loved being invited into fellow bloggers' spaces. I may try to begin it again. What do you think?  That's also what I like about this book, getting to peek into personal spaces of such people as Oprah Winfrey, Ali McGraw, Bunny Williams, Dr. Maya Angelou, Faith Popcorn,Adrienne Vittadini and these women (+ others):

Brazilian actress, singer and translator Denise Dummont lives
in NYC. Her apartment, which she shares 
with her film-director husband and children, overlooks the East River.

At home with Hollywood Correspondent Chantel Westerman. 

Charlotte Moss, designer, author and retailer, wanted a 
room she could call her own. She took an extra guest room and 
transformed it into a space that called to her.

The home office of Helen Ballard Weeks, founder of
Ballard Designs.

This room belongs to Deborah Johnson, a buyer
for the Afro-American Historical and Cultural Museum
in Philadelphia.

A vignette of a room belonging to Anna Strasberg, an 
actress and widow of the founder of the NY Actor's Studio.
Her apartment overlooks Central Park in NYC.


A room in a weekend cottage belonging 
to Futurist Faith Popcorn.

By the way, I don't always stick to my southern girl "say-something-nice-too philosophy. 
I stick to my guns when supporting civil rights, humanitarian causes
 . . . I think that's the time to embark on a passionate tirade -- when true injustices occur.








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