Don't underestimate the power of space that is all your own.

Whether it's a corner altar, a closet or a whole room - find a nook that is yours for inspiration, rejuvenation, introspection or creation.

Perhaps inspired by Virgina Woolf's A Room of One's Own, designer Chris Madden's book showcases the intimate and private spaces of several women and helps to inspire others to create something for themselves. It is part how-to and part beautiful inspiration and is one of my favorite books to encourage authenticity and individuality.

from Organic Style, May 2005 : photos by Robert Lyons

I am always curious how people live. So when I recently re-read this article about a couple living completely sustainably on their self-built floating home, I decided to do some digging.

And sure enough, there is a video on U-tube video about the Freedom Cove Floating House, close to Tofino, Canada.

Catherine and Wayne Adams, the artist couple who built to pink and teal home themselves, grow their own food and live in the quiet serenity of this wilderness.

From Tofino you can take a boat to visit them and see how simply and intentionally one can live.

photo by marisol villaneuva

I have never really paid that much attention to my undergarments, to tell the truth. I am a hige fan of Old Navy cotton panties and do love my Hanky Panky thongs (if you don't know these - find them and you will never by anything else.) But I love this line of organic lovelies from loup charmant.

Perhaps its the styling that is so dreamy and the modern rusticness of it all.

Regardless, I might have to start thinking about lingerie in a whole new way.

Einstein said "Few real problems can be solved with the same consciousness from which they arose."

Where could you use some out of the box thinking?

Eloise at the Plaza, New York taken by me, 1998

There is a picture somewhere of me sitting on that marble and gold leaf table, at age 8, during my first visit to New York. How many 8 year olds who grew up in California know what the Plaza Hotel in New York City is?

"I am Eloise. I am six. I am a city child. I live at the Plaza."

That's how it started. Every time.

On Fridays I usually write about a woman who inspires me, but somehow today I was compelled to talk about a 6 year old who is so firmly rooted in my childhood memories and perhaps even the development of my personality. If you know the story of Eloise and you know, you might be smiling now.

It was before Hollywood made her into a movie princess and before she went off on adventures to Paris and Moscow. It was just Eloise, just at the Plaza. My tattered copy is one of my prized possessions because attached to it is not only the story of this precocious child but the very fond memories of my dad reading every single word to me. And he did it every time. If I close my eyes, I can feel him next to me and almost feel the rhythmic movement of his chest as he read the punctuationless text - in a steady stream, with all the right accents and intonations. I have tried in my adulthood to recreate this but it is impossible.

This post and this little girl and the memories of my dad are even more profound now because I am going to be a mother and I can't imagine how to do this without him.

image borrowed from nibsblog.wordpress.com

Creativity doesn't half to cost a lot.

Neither does good design - and if I have any kind of soap box, this is it. So when I see fancy people making beauty with simple every day things, I get excited.

String for example. Have you ever thought of using string for more than tying bundles of newspaper together or making sure that your latest IKEA purchase doesn't fly out of your car? I really hadn't, though I love the organic color and texture of string. So I was excited to see this article in the NY Times about out of the box design with simple and basic materials.

Enjoy the slideshow

I am a sponge. That's the word that we have come up with. When I was little, when things got uncomfortable or people were cruel, I took in their emotions, their feelings and could never let it go. It went in one ear and then got all mixed up inside. Now as a adult, I have realized how detrimental this sponging is to my own mental and physical well-being, but a million people can tell me to "Let it go" and I still have no idea what they are talking about.

I have never had a reference point. Until now.

I don't remember where I found this images or how long they have been stored on my hard-drive but I "saw" them for the first time the other day.

This, this is letting go.

I just don't really know what else to add.

It's been a long time since I wrote. Two weeks to be exact - which in the span of universal time is a mere wink, I know. But it feels long because I made a commitment to myself to write every week day for 30 days. Habits only change with practice and discipline I have learned.

But life gets in the way of changing habits - starting a new job has derailed my initial intention to write everyday and though I at first got down on myself, I realized that this was more a lesson in understanding and flexibility. I asked my husband to give me wiggle room for two weeks as I got adjusted to this new schedule but someone I forgot to allow myself the same thing.

So I wiggled and I didn't get anxious that I neglected my writings. Instead, I let myself sleep in and trusted that when the time was right I would find the time, or the time would find me.

And as always, here it is.