Hello, everyone!
Sorry for being MIA…for six months.
I’m [finally] back at blogging. Just not here.
Since I’m not really Nadine Bells anymore — I’m actually in that awkward phase of having inconsistent IDs thanks to getting married and going the good ol’ fashioned route, surname-wise — I’m now chronicling life over at NadineAtHome.com.
Thanks for reading!
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I openly admit that 80% of the reason I watch is the Oscars is for the fashion. This is what I hope to see in a couple weeks:
Pinks.
I’d wear that first Lela Rose dress IN A HEARTBEAT. To the grocery store, even.
Teal blues.
Fact: This is my all-time favorite shade of blue. Followed closely by navy.
Bridal-worthy beauties.
Weddings are on my mind, can you tell?
A little Audrey Hepburn inspiration.
Because obviously.
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Last Valentine’s, Matt and I went to the zoo. Then Matt got distracted (by me) on the ride home and missed our turnoff. So we ended up in Brampton for dinner. And we stopped by his grandparents’. They had been married for 58 years at the time.
I left their house that night inspired by a love story. That is what Valentine’s should be about.
This year, Matt came over on the 13th to cook me dinner: Duck Confit.
We ate fancy-and-AMAZING food — Tip: saute shitake mushrooms in duck fat if you want your date to love you forever — sipped wine, nibbled at dark chocolate and watched a little Jack Bauer.
The next day, we picked up our marriage license.
And Matt renewed his passport. So he can take me away…somewhere.
(And then the passport-photo lady told me that Matt is “very handsome” and that I should “watch out.” Because I’m pretty, but he’s “VERY handsome.” With another “very.” Yes, this is true. Still…STAY AWAY FROM MY MAN.)
We don’t really consider ourselves “Valentine’s people,” but we’re pretty good at making it awesome.
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Well, I can cross this off the bucket list:
Hear “MmmBop” performed live.
Last Friday night, Beth and I saw Hanson at the Phoenix.
Read her account here. Many of our thoughts are similar. Because our brains are awesome.
Before I begin, I would like to emphasize that:
There was this pure-joy kinda groove going on that made me want to drop the writing gig, brush up on my keyboarding skills, and hit the road with a drummer, guitarist, and cute merchandise.
And I decided that Hanson is no longer a guilty pleasure. They are a proud pleasure. They should be mainstream. They should not have 1997 held against them. Instead, we should be applauding the band that has been on the road for 15 years, selling out venues, and turning out infectious pop hooks on a very consistent basis.
Their “greatest hits” takes about two hours to get through. Seriously.
You should want to be them.
I would like to point out that their brand of soul can totally groove WITHOUT A BASS. Like, whoa. (I would link to the official music video, but I feel like I’ve done that approximately 8 billion times. It’s that good.)
Also, did you win a Grammy when you were 14? For a #1 song YOU WROTE? (I could barely rhyme “there” with “care” at that age.)
This was one of last night’s highlights. Here’s the link to the official video. I embedded the poor-quality video from the actual show because I want you to HEAR THE CROWD. (Beth used the word “magic” here. I approve.)
There. I refuse to be defensive anymore. Or in the Hanson-fan closet.
I bought their newest album. Because it’s not on iTunes in Canada. Nor is it in stores. And I felt guilty for downloading it. And because all three Hanson gentlemen have kids — I bet you feel old now, huh? — and I want to make sure the Little Hansons can go to college one day. Yes, I care about these things.
Let’s take them seriously. Now. Okay?
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I didn’t know I cared so much. But I’m suddenly broken up about the death of a stranger.
Rest in peace, Whitney.
I know everyone’s gushing over The Bodyguard today. As they should. And, yes, I’ve whittled my middle to “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” at the gym, too. But this evening, this song’s in my head:
This. Can. Never. Happen. Again.
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I wasn’t having the best day ever yesterday. Matt knew this. So he invited himself over for dinner. He gave me permission to stay home from home church and just sit on the couch and process life, tears included.
And he brought me a yeti valentine.
Yes, I’m going to keep him. (Both the yeti and the man.)
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My dad used to call me Cinderella. I enjoyed being home alone so much, that I’d volunteer to do chores if it meant everyone leaving the house quicker. Yeah, I’m a little sick in the head.
Also, I enjoy wearing brown. Probably Cinderella (circa “Ugly Stepsisters” era) inspired.
I was watching the Golden Globes last month when Charlize Theron caught my eye. I was obsessed with her look. Specifically, with her hair. I had already survived a disastrous veil-shopping attempt at that point — I haven’t eliminated that option, just that seller — and Matthew offered support by suggesting I go the Theron route.
Which is the Cinderella route.
Obviously.
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Hello!
So…I haven’t blogged in approximately forever. I’m not dead. I promise.
Life is busy. And while I haven’t been writing here, I’ve been typing like a madwoman every single day…while preparing for a wedding and, more importantly, a marriage.
Invitations are in the mail. THAT was a two-month adventure.
My first dress fitting is booked. I have shoes. We even have favors.
My passport has been renewed.
We have our wedding bands.
And we have a joint bank account.
There’s no going back.
Not that I would EVER want to.
Engagement kinda sucks, people. I’m over it. I just want to marry Matthew. Now.
My brain says, “I’m totally already in this for life.”
My heart says, “I’m totally already in this for life.”
Life says, “Too bad, Nadine. HE’S NOT YOURS YET. Now go worry about ribbons and table configurations. And what are you going to do what that hair?!”
Le sigh.
Since we don’t live together, I must resort to Vimeo-stalking Matt. Because that’s a totally sane and healthy thing to do while researching ceremony readings, right?
(Actually, the video is super-new. And super-cool. And I’m looking for an excuse to show it off. I don’t actually cyber-stalk him. Not on a regular basis, anyway.)
Watch my favorite drummer do his thing below.
Yes, I still swoon.
Ten weeks!
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Winona Ryder turned 40 today. This isn’t really a big deal. At all. But when I read the news, the warm-and-fuzzies took over. She was probably my original girl crush.
Little Women
When I was 11 years old, I watched my favorite novel (in the whole wide world) come to life on the big screen. Thus began my Bale obsession and Ryder crush.
I still identify with Jo March, the writer who “marches” to a slightly unconventional beat. (Someone asked me about my job-security strategy the other day. Would I consider going the full-time-with-benefits corporate route? Just for stability? Um, no. Because I like my soul and have no intentions of selling it.)
InStyle
In high school, I bought my first fashion magazine, an issue of InStyle with a Winona feature inside. There she was, in all her pixie-haired glory, modeling gorgeous vintage dresses from her own collection.
I STILL want this:
Allure
Also in high school, I’d sit on my bedroom floor and sketch. I sketched this Allure cover. Because…those EYES.
Kevyn Aucoin
The above Allure magazine introduced me to Kevyn Aucoin, the makeup guru who taught me how to “make a face.”
He did this:
And this:
Ageless
This is Winona modeling in an Elle magazine spread — THIS YEAR. She’s still smokin’. Even after decades of literally smoking.
Frozen. In. Time.
Happy birthday, Winona. Thanks for being Spock’s mom.
*Johnny Depp has had a “Winona Forever” tattoo on his arm. When they broke up, he had it altered to say “Wino Forever.” How droll.
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“Are you wearing your hair up? Down? Half up? Twisted into Princess Leia buns? Crimped? French-braided UPSIDE DOWN?!”
Um….
I. Don’t. Know.
BUT if I opt for a hood instead of a veil, I won’t have to make those sort of decisions.
Too bad I’d look like I got lost on the way to a costume party.
My dress is soooo not art deco.
Never mind.
But you should totally wear it at your hypothetical 1920s-themed wedding, dear hypothetical Clara Bow-obsessed reader.
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