I am sure I have mentioned this before (I am getting old and my memory is failing me), but I love walking. Going for walks is probably one of my most favorite things in the world. Maybe it’s because I know I should never ever ever take the capabilities of my legs for granted — they are not exactly the most reliable part of my body. When I walk, I feel like I am defying everything. With every step I take I am breaking down a barrier, and I am telling the disease that is causing my bones to be frail to go f itself. Every night, I sink together on my couch after a long walk and I feel like I have done my job — I have made myself physically exhausted, just like those jogging away on treadmills for hours in the gym. This, walking, is what I can do to feel normal, healthy and alive, within my body’s realm of possibility.

And it’s all I need. I am happy, I am content. I am walking, breathing, and I go home with a set of lungs full of fresh air and so much hope that I feel like I could burst. I am a flower blooming along with the bushes, trees, and everything else living that is cared for and nurtured by the sun and the earth’s natural resources. Unstoppable, invincible, every walk is like leaving the nest for the first time; brave and with wings that have been neatly patched up by those who love me, those who cared for me when I felt like I would be broken forever. For ten months, my grandparents held my hand and guided me through the fog of a situation that seemed so meaningless. Now, here I am, their babybird. Hope is the thing with feathers…

Sometimes I am joined by my sister, who clearly could have been a prima ballerina assoluta. Such grace, such style.

And sometimes we play. And sometimes I hide in crooked little houses and wave to the camera.

It’s all out there waiting for me.

Yesterday, my grandparents and I went to a 1950’s-themed festival in a park nearby. The festivities are spread out all over the city, so there are plenty of opportunities to participate still. The park we went to had a flea market with 1950′s items only, and later on there was dance training and lessons in how to hula hoop like you have been doing it all your life. The atmosphere was great, and I left the park with a pillbox, a pendant and the useful (not to mention funky) skill of hand jiving.

All age-groups were represented, which is what is so great about this theme: it appeals to everyone. It’s FUN and light and a decade we are all familiar with in one way or another. For a retro-nut like me, it was just wonderful.
Less than §10 for all of these precious, precious things.(The items in this last picture were bought in a store that is the Danish equivalente of Target, so there is nothing genuinely vintage about these. I just thought they were pretty.

There is a little shop a couple of streets from my apartment. Inside you will find lots of hidden treasures from previous decades, all previously worn and treasured by people like you and me, in a different time and place. The sales assistants are all volunteers, who thoroughly enjoys removing coffee stains from old garments, and helping you discover your very own piece of gold in the piles of lost and found. The best? Every single cent goes to charity. The second best? On the mirror in the dressing room they have written, “Stop it. You look AMAZING!”. That’s when I knew I loved the place.

The shop is located at basement level. When you walk down the stairs and enter through the little door that (thankfully is one of the few which still) does not close automatically, you will find the sales assistants sitting off to the right, having their very own tea party in antique lounge chairs and sofas, sipping tea from mixed vintage china while talking about their friends. It’s like we are all guests in the walk-in closet of a 95 year-old female globetrotter named Mabel, who has experienced everything from the swinging 1920s to the orange and brown shades of the 1970s, and now she is lying somewhere in a big bed with draperies of red velvet, looking through photo albums while caressing her cat named Mrs. Buttons. I know, she is pretty badass.

While searching through the racks of hats and belts and dresses, I thought about what an amazing work environment it must be. I could totally picture myself searching through boxes of wonders and sipping tea from floral tea cups, not minding for a single second that I wasn’t being paid. I would just love so much to make a difference. Perhaps I should look into that next year? I will have plenty of time since I will only be taking two classes.

Anyway, in my humble opinion, thrift shops are where the heart is. It is a magical world where old momentums get their renaissance and are rightfully praised.

To celebrate that I am still standing and have less than thirty school days left, I bought this postwar era-style dress that has a gorgeous cut and lovely little details. I know it looks like an oversized Hawaiian t-shirt in this picture, but it really is quite feminine and lovely in real life.  I guess I have to wear it for you to see. I will be wearing it tomorrow, so perhaps I will snap a picture in the school bathroom again. I’m a classy broad.

THRIFT PRIDE!

Sunday afternoon we went to the Botanic Garden. The weather was absolutely gorgeous, and it’s the first time I have ever taken Andrew there. As with everything else, I had wanted his first introduction to it to be during the summer, where all the trees and flowers are in bloom. With everything being dead and withered, there really was not much botanic about that garden, but I guess somebody decided we can’t have life and summer and happiness all year round.

Andrew was pretty excited about the gigantic greenhouse, which, I have to admit, IS pretty cool. And huge.

After our massively long walk (3,7 miles!) we went home and I wrote my Biology report. Five pages, baby, with awesome pictures and illustrations to boot. Let it be known that I hate Biology with a fiery passion. The same with Physics. The only science-y class that I can handle… sort of, is Chemistry, which I finished last year (and got a pretty bad grade). No hard feelings, Chemistry, I know now that the feelings weren’t mutual. Guess I had to learn it the hard and humiliating way in front of two teachers.

Andrew is going home on Monday, which is killing me little by little each day. I can’t wait till the day where we can be together all the time. I even dreamt about it last night. I dreamt that I decided to pack up and just go already, enough with all this dilly dally. I only brought a small bag, because I did not feel like I needed anything really. Just my heart, who happens to live in New York. I also dreamt that I was a member of a mob family. Any psychology majors willing to tell me what the EFF that means?

I have been working on this project that I am incredibly excited about. It is going to be so great, and I just have a good feeling in my stomach about it, like I was meant to do this. Get your excite on, I think you will like it!

I want you to see what I saw:

Coming out of a season where even the trees have needed extra scarves to keep warm and pom poms to keep from getting depressed, yesterday felt, smelled and looked like Spring.  I can not remember the last time I have felt happiness like this. I wanted nothing more than to be absorbed by it all. Spring is here. Spring is here. More on our specific endeavors later.