I don't know about you, my curious friend, but for me, Sunday is the day to relax most of all. The day where tea parties seem the most pleasant, even if you are alone. Today, I simply sit with you, browsing some literature and concocting plans for the upcoming summer while enjoying this lovely spring afternoon. I have decided to create a summer reading list for myself, as I am currently wrapped up in the readings for my studies. Thus far, I have decided on a faerie based list, as those tales tickle my fancy and imagine even broader aspects of the wonder world I inhabit. Perhaps I shall continue in the literature of miss Melissa Marr? After reading a certain blog of someone whom I follow, I have learned that the latest installment has been released in the Wicked Lovely series, a dark tale dripping with magic and romance, a genre of which this Alice has come to fawn over. I have already enjoyed the extent of miss Holly Black's Tithe series, and I do admit it was one of my favorites. But here I shall admit, that I do not know of many other stories of this nature. Sadly for I, most of the inhabitants of Wonderland do not partake in literature as often as I, and so I can only rely upon my curious little self in search of more invigorating literature.
Ah, well is well. Have you ever tried a spot of English Afternoon Tea? Though the name is blunt, I do enjoy the flavor. It has subtle hints of a smoky sweet flavor, and though some may argue you should try it with milk, I kindly disagree. It is sweet and earthy, milk or cream may only distinguish the taste, but that is up to your taste buds, not mine!
Oh, I must share with you a time of tragedy! I had nearly forgotten until I looked to the small bird outside my window. He sung of brilliant sunny day and cool breeze, who wears a wicked grin as he tries to snatch away your warmth, unlike the gentle caress of the warm wind, who only wishes to graze her fingers through your pretty locks of hair. Often do I enjoy her company, but that brother of hers makes me retreat if the sun does no prevail. My own lovely locks have been cut short, and it is a crime of my own fault I am ashamed to admit. You see, I was unsatisfied with my own hair, and now it has left me. I had invested in longer tresses, and little did I know my hair had wept as the kind card fastened the mane to my roots. For you see, the kind card was not so much, I plead to her, 'Dear miss! Please do not hasten, and listen to me! I bid you not to fasten that hair in with paste, for in the past it had resulted in perilous troubles for me!', and with a convincing smile she put my worries to rest, that no glue should touch my hair.
Now here I am, with my shining hair shorter than my own delicate shoulders! That sticky substance which held in that false mane had tangled up my hair to an event that was inevitable. To the boutique I rushed and asked what I could do to tame it, but with sad eyes the young card of clover told me, that my hair would need to be hacked off. But I bid her to try, and try she did. Oh kind woman, I thank you for your efforts. But in the end, my fair locks did need to be cut. Never shall I invest in phony tendrils, it was too much heartache and heart break. But oh how I miss long hair. I do not think I am the type to wear their hair short, my friend. I envy you and your healthy locks, do not be as foolish as I! Nonsense is a must, but that does not mean no sense. Well, I wear a smile anyhow, as my White Rabbit coos and coddles me, running his long fingers through my still silky locks, with a warm smile on his lips.
I wonder how long it will take for my long tresses to grow long once more? Will they ever return to me, or as my punishment will they leave on extended stay? But with a sigh I digress, and move onto something far less depressing. Did I ever tell you that the Mad Hatter had recently given me a gift? It was for no reason whatsoever, simply that she had wanted me to have it. It was a rather sweet gesture in my opinion, and now I wear the golden lace around my neck every single day. Can you guess of which fashion it is in? The suspense must be awful! Heehee, I will tell you.
Isn't it lovely?
A bottle and key,
Sporting 'Drink Me',
Ever so elegantly?
I wonder. In my Wonderland, the skies are bright lucid blue, but what color is the sky in your Wonderland? In mine, the sky is simply blue because I love that color. Ever since I first saw it sport that color, with a polite smile and eager eyes I told it, 'That is the color for you!', but that sky can be so fickle, can't it? Some times dull gray, or eerie white. Black in the night and orange and purple, golden pink and a sickening array of colors that steams me from time to time. So when I came to Wonderland, I advised that sky to stay in blue, as it was the most fitting color I could behold upon it. And so with a milk blush in that evening, it contemplated my words, until the very next day it sought to take my advice, and from then on wore only the most flattering shade of blue. It is my personal favorite. But what about you? I grow curiouser and curiouser! What ever color could your sky be? Is it blue like mine, or perhaps it is fickle too and decides to change? Did you advise a different color for yours? Maybe you sky looks kinder in pink, or more mild in green. Would it even give yellow a chance?
Now that I stare out at my most agreeable sky, I think of lullabies and melodies. I do believe I like the piano and soft instruments, but sometimes upbeat out of tune tunes are so much fun! Have you ever danced the waltz do something that sounds as if a machine had decided to sing a song? Or have you ever bopped your head to the pleasant sound of men and women who sound like they are of the avian relative? I enjoy doing so, but sometimes, and this is my personal pleasure, I absolutely love the sound of a music box. So simple, and yet so complicated! Truly an export of Wonderland. I have one, that is shaped like a present, dressed in floral wrapping and a big pink satin bow with golden trim, it looks as though it is headed off to the ball without me! But when you twist the golden knob that is hidden in its hind quarters, it plays a most pleasant music for me and me alone. Call me selfish, call me rude, but sometimes something just for yourself is the nicest thing. That music box is a cherished friend of mine, and though she is dressed primed and prettied, she is mine alone to behold.
I hope you always feel special, my curious guest and visitor. Wear a smile and hold a conversation with your treasures, offer advice to your lovely sky, and dare to argue the weather for more agreeable terms. This afternoon has been absolutely splendid, absolutely wonderful, golden in all regard for me! But what can be done to make your wonderful day even more wonderful? Your presence alone puts a smile on my sweet face. And with this grin, I promise to be no more wittier than the riddles presented to me in my every day wonderful wonderful life. And though wonderful may not always be pleasant, it will always be something to make you ponder, to wonder, and to truly wander.
But I will reserve more conversation for our next tea party. As always, I look forward to sharing tea time with you. Until then, my sweetest regards.