Moving vans.


I’ve moved.

And I like it.

Click here.

And change your links s’il vous plait.


Love from Bella.



She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and looked at the clock. 3:32am. It wasn’t even light outside. She put her red pillow over her face. Took a deep breath. Coughed. And then grabbed her Bible and little blue sweater and stepped out of bed.

She couldn’t sleep.

She was getting sick again.

She went and sat on the edge of her sofa and fixed her messy hair in a room with no lights on. Then she struggled to read her Psalm for the day. #66. She liked it. And then she sat and watched The House of Commons live for an hour. She liked the Prime Minister’s accent the best. But the Conservative Party Leader’s was also killer. Maybe it was all British accents in general that she found flattering. She didn’t really know.

Her sister turned a light on in the kitchen. She walked into there, her curiousity piqued. The laminated floor was cold. It tickled her feet.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Her sister looked up. She had a knitted cream coloured hat on and was holding a jar of peanut butter. “I was hungry.”

“You were hungry?”

“Yes.” And then she made herself a peanut butter and banana open face sandwich.

The girl laughed. And went back and layed down on the sofa and listened to some British men fight. She fell asleep at 5:22am.


There was lipstick stains on her teacup. It was called “moccacino” or something tasty like that. A deep pink colour. She liked it a lot. She’d probably wear it again tomorrow. To Church. She would like that too.

Her tea was chamomile. And her sweater was a pale grey. Her hair looked nice. She was pleased with it today. It reminded her of the movie “The Notebook.” She was happy today.

Her little sister was watching “Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist.” She didn’t really like that movie. At least, she didn’t really like what she’d seen of that movie. She’d only seen the beginning. It didn’t make her heart very happy. But she wasn’t going to lie. The girl in it was pretty. Very pretty. That made her heart happy. She liked pretty people for some reason.

Today she learned how to say pretty in French. “Joli.” It made her happy. She liked that word. It sounded sweet. And it tasted nice.

Happy heart. A joli girl on the television. Sweet tasting lipstick. Sweaters. Hopes of Goodwill shopping tonight. More tea. And nice hair.


Answer not necessary.



If I could, I would drive myself to Freddie’s and buy myself chai tea. But I am a patient young woman instead.

The door slammed. Again. And very loudly at that. She leaned back in her seat and brushed the palms of her hands down the front of her red skirt. Her earrings jingled in her ears. She yawned and pulled the sleeves of her sweater up. She wanted to take her UGG boots off and sit in her socks. She wanted to be done with this silly test and go and read C.S.Lewis’ The Screwtape letters.  But she was distracted. She shook her head. And studied the question. Then she chose her answer. She got it right.

Her heart felt hilarious. She liked passing that test. And walking out of the DMV office with a driver’s permit. It felt good. And it made her laugh.

NOW SHE COULD GO AND LEARN TO DRIVE. (And read her sister’s copy of The Screwtape Letters.)

Today she had muffins for breakfast. While wearing black tights and her Daddy’s socks and a white flower on a headband in her hair. She felt good. Happy. Her heart still felt hilarious. She was itching to go and try to learn to drive. But she slowed herself down. She read a little.

“My dear Wormwood, So! Your man is in love—and in the worst kind he could have possibly fallen into…” -The Screwtape Letters

Took time to pray on her knees. Learned to pronounce tête-à-tête & cœur properly. Wrote in an adorable story about 2 boys in love with 1 girl. Played with her hair. Laughed. And looked at The Orange Tree (←click it).

But she still wanted to go driving. But she could wait. Patience is admired in young women–at least that’s what they say. So she would work on her patience. And practice her driving in her head. And everything would be fine.




It was Sunday. She was in love with Sunday. You got to dress up on Sunday.

Today she wore a bright red skirt, grenadine lips, and a black tie-front sweater. A little pearl around her throat. Shoes with bows on the toes on her feet.

It was raining outside.

After Church she and her two sisters had to run two blocks. A mad dash in the downpour. They laughed the whole way. And her feet got cold. And her hands. And she was carrying Raspberry Green tea. But she was happy. And her eyes were bright. And her tea was still warm.

She was in love with Sunday.



Today I’m Bell.

Today she felt worse. Worse than before. She hated being sick. But she loved the tea. The tea almost made it worthwhile. Especially today’s. It was White Christmas from Harney & Sons. Complients of mon petit chou. She loved that girl. And that tea.

Today she wore a pink tee shirt. And boy’s jeans. And dangling silver earrings. Her hair was curly and in her face. And she had argyle socks and red lips on. She felt nice. Still sick, but nice. And she smelled like Cherry Blossoms. You always feel better when you smell nice.

Today her friend Sam was leaving.

And today the girl who smelled nice learned a new French word.




Long days

She woke up unhappy. She felt sick. So she put her red pillow over her head for a few minutes. But only a few minutes. Her feet got too hot in her Daddy’s socks. And she had to pull them off. And then she really had to wake up.

Ten minutes later she walked into the kitchen. Wearing a blue Ballet-Oregon tee shirt and jeans. She boiled some water in the kettle and ate a brownie for breakfast. Today was going to be a long day. She always ate chocolate when she knew it was going to be a long day. Then she drank a cup of Sweet Lemon tea and chatted with her “mon petit chou.” She spent some time on Forvo, pronouncing French properly. She wished for a frother. She really wanted a frother. And she lied to herself. The girl with the poofy hair and ceramic mug lied to herself. She said,

“I am not sick.”

But she knew it was a lie. So she gave it up. And went to make herself another cup of tea–with honey. Even though she hated honey. And study French. And write in her novel. And start her long day. It was going to be a long day.



meet me here.

i'm Bella.
i love clotheslines, writing, humor, the colour cornflower blue, ballet, baking bread, and freckles.
i collect red lipstick, bowties+neckties, vinyl records, and classic books.
i have J.Crew rainboots, too many {little black dresses}, a good hankering for italiano food everyday, and such a want to go see the opera.
i think boys with their shirtsleeves rolled up are better, Charles Dickens was amazing,vintage is the best, goodwill is the way to go, Church makes everyone hungry, and life is about swing dancing.

that's me in a nutshell.


January 2019
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gotta love this bicycle.

Madsen Cycles Cargo Bikes