New Etsy Buys: Pillow Pals

It's long been a dream of mine to collect fruit-shaped pillows.  Well, it's been a dream of mine since a couple of years ago when the bf hauled an antique church pew home and plunked it in our living room.  So, I did what any fruit enthusiast would.  I searched Etsy, narrowed my finds down to my favorites, and purchased two designs from the whimsically-named Art Snack.  When the box arrived yesterday, I tore it open and immediately arranged the vibrant plush watermelon wedge and kiwi slice on either side of my smiley orange pillow-in-residence (Bubbledog), instantly livening up the somewhat dreary dark wood.  (Sorry, bf, but it's true.)  So, what's with that Ugly Doll peeking out from behind the kiwi?  He isn't handmade, but he's been in residence with us for some time too, and we love him just the same.  The bf's the one who so cleverly stuck him there.  I like to give credit where credit is due. :)

Speaking of which, Art Snack's pillows are incredibly well made.  To my delight, the watermelon was even bigger than I'd expected, a testament to this endorsement from one happy buyer: "You have the best watermelon pillows on the Internet!"  Heralded by the charming tag line "Come for the snacks, stay for the art!", Art Snack's den of delicious décor is sure to whet your taste for fun!  I'm so infatuated with the stuff that I may need to eat my words and send the bf out for another bench.

TV Tidbits

I didn't have a relevant photo for this post, so I snapped a shot of this adorable Ugly Doll my mom got me. Speaking of Mom, she recently told me she read my blog and "laughed out loud." I'm going to take that as a compliment. On to the tidbits.

Last week the bf was watching the History Channel, as he often does, while I was making jewelry. I am not a fan of the History Channel. Or of the Science Channel. Or the Learning Channel. Or the Discovery Channel. I'm a woman who needs a nice piece of fiction to sink her teeth into, whether it be in the form of a sitcom rerun or a movie. Anyway, on this particular night, the History Channel was running a bio on Albert Einstein. Not being the scientific type, I found the bulk of it boring. However, I did find out that he got his start working in the patent office, an albeit boring occupation, but one that provided him with ample time to daydream about his soon-to-be famous theories. I also learned that he left wife and sons -- she was also a scientist -- to shack up with his first cousin, who was described as "not an intellectual," and "a woman who enjoyed preparing large meals." Humph. I enjoy a good meal as much as the next person, but come on. I lost a little respect for old Albert there.

To completely switch gears, you probably haven't heard about the new sitcom Hot in Cleveland. It's on TVland at 10:00 EST Wednesday nights. But I got hooked because the cast included Betty White. She plays the crotchety, says-whatever-she's-thinking caretaker of a house being rented by three LA transplants, played by Valerie Bertinelli, Jane Leeves (Daphne from Frasier), and Wendie Malick (Nina from Just Shoot Me). The show itself is mildly entertaining; it's your typical story of middle-aged single women trying to find love (although I do enjoy the always kitschy Hot Chocolate's "You Sexy Thing" featured in the commercials). But what's really interesting to me is the character dynamics. With every show I watch, I break the characters down into basic types. In Hot in Cleveland, Bertinelli's character is the optimist, Leeves' character is the cynic, Malick's character is the glamour girl, and White is the viper-tongued old lady. Of course, I couldn't help but compare them to The Golden Girls gang. In that case, White (Rose) was the optimist, Dorothy (Bea Arthur) was the cynic, Blanche (Rue McClanahan) was the glamour girl, and Sophia (Estelle Getty) was the viper-tongued old lady. So, thirty-odd years later, Rose has morphed into Sophia. But then again, if we live long enough, then I suppose we all do. Anyway, if you're a Betty White fan, then Hot in Cleveland is worth your thirty minutes.