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Ingrid

@artichokeindigo.bsky.social

110 followers 150 following 130 posts

New Orleans museum worker, childless cat lady

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Ingrid

@artichokeindigo.bsky.social

A Dictionary of Color, published in 1930 by A. J. Maerz and M. Rea Paul, ordered the pigments for commerce and industry.
One of its authors worked for a lead company. Walls, ships, and houses, Maerz and Paul insisted, could not be painted profitably if the names of colors were nonsense. "It has been frequently observed that while standardization has been arrived at in practically all other fields," they wrote, "in the use of color names for identifying color sensations a condition prevails that is usually characterized as chaos."
In the minds of chaos-busters Maerz and Paul, the fashion and textile industries were most guilty of a "promiscuous use of extravagant color names." Nonsense words, changes in references and origins, seasonal whims, and other names with an "ephemeral existence" only resulted in confusion and financial loss. Their list of culprits was largely French, colors like widow's joy, chimney sweep, envenomed monkey (sixteenth century); stifled sigh, burnt opera house, and Paris mud (eighteenth century). There was a rash of rash colors-rash tears, rash leap—and someone at a soirée wearing
"a muff of Momentary Agitation." The authors could not locate sample pigments for such English color names as skating, wireless, water sprite, basketball, and the smoke of the Camp of St. Roche.
Elephant's breath eluded them altogether. Hedge sparrow egg could not be found because all samples, and possibly the species itself, had been lost.

November 16, 2025 at 1:09 PM

Ingrid

@artichokeindigo.bsky.social

This is Ashes, who came to my family when I was six. He loved this drawer of my dress-up play clothes. He was such a good dad to the three who followed.

A tabby cat up to his neck in a drawer of a seven-year-old’s dress up clothes

Four cats cuddled up in a grey tabby fur puddle

November 13, 2025 at 10:33 PM

Ingrid

@artichokeindigo.bsky.social

Reminds me of this bit in Cold Comfort Farm

From Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons, 1932:

“ Well — what kind of books does he write ? ” she asked.

“ He’s doin’ one now about another young fellow who wrote books, and then his sisters pretended they wrote them, and then they all died of consumption, poor young mommets.”

“ Ha ! A life of Branwell Bronte,” thought Flora. “ I might have known it. There has been increasing discontent among the male intellectuals for some time at the thought that a woman wrote ‘ Wuthering Heights.’ I thought one of them would produce something of this kind, sooner or later. Well, I must just avoid him, that’s all.”

November 11, 2025 at 9:42 PM

Ingrid

@artichokeindigo.bsky.social

Beautiful! My grandma’s needlework of the Kay Nielsen illustration is one of my most precious possessions

Embroidered version of a 1914 Kay Nielsen illustration of a woman riding a polar bear

November 8, 2025 at 1:05 PM

Ingrid

@artichokeindigo.bsky.social

September 30, 2025 at 8:08 PM

Ingrid

@artichokeindigo.bsky.social

Amazon’s participating in a grand tradition of choosing a cover without reading the book, I guess, for Murder Must Advertise

Screenshot of all the Dorothy Sayers books in my Amazon account. Most vaguely suit the aesthetic of the Golden Age of Detective Fiction, except Murder Must Advertise (1933), which has a photo of a woman about to lose her dress off her shoulders, and font that would suit the movie Hackers. There are no sexy female characters in Murder Must Advertise.

September 21, 2025 at 12:40 AM

Ingrid

@artichokeindigo.bsky.social

Reminds me of this Hugh Laurie bit about a “small and psychiatrically disturbed section of the population” who might have emphasized the “to”

A screenshot from Hugh Laurie’s novel The Gun Seller:
Lang, I want you to know that I could have you arrested the second you leave this building.' I turned and looked at him. 'For what?' I suddenly didn't like this. I didn't like this because, for the first time since I came in, O'Neal looked relaxed. 'Conspiracy to murder.' The room was very quiet. 'Conspiracy?' I said. You know how it is when you're caught up in the flow of things. Normally, words are sent from the brain towards the mouth, and somewhere along the line you take a moment to check them, see that they are actually the ones you ordered and that they're nicely wrapped, before you bundle them on their way towards your palate and out into the fresh air.

Continuation of screenshot from Hugh Laurie’s The Gun Seller:

But when you're caught up in the flow of things, the checking part of your mind can fall down on the job. O'Neal had uttered three words: 'Conspiracy to murder'. The correct word for me to repeat in an incredulous tone of voice would have been 'murder'; a very small, and psychiatrically disturbed, section of the population might have opted for the 'to'; but the one word out of the three I most definitely should not have chosen to repeat was 'conspiracy'. Of course, if we'd had the conversation again, I'd have done things very differently. But we didn't.

September 5, 2025 at 9:52 PM

Ingrid

@artichokeindigo.bsky.social

Okay but Maida Heatter’s World’s Best Hot Fudge Sauce is not a word of a lie

A recipe for hot fudge sauce in an older book. It’s incredible. Really.
1/2 c heavy cream
3 tablespoons butter
1/3 c white sugar
1/3 c dark brown sugar, firmly packed
Cook over moderate heat until the sugar is fully dissolved.
Reduce the heat. Add:
A pinch of salt
1/2 c Dutch process cocoa (Dutch process is non-negotiable)
Whisk until smooth.

July 27, 2025 at 8:55 PM

Ingrid

@artichokeindigo.bsky.social

I was honestly nothing but impressed when the one I play offered a copy of some gorgeous custom tile within a day or two of it being posted on remodelista

Screenshot from remodelista instagram showing a tile mosaic fireplace of green geometric shapes dotted irregularly with white flowers

Screenshot from goofy design game Garden Joy showing the exact same tile

May 28, 2025 at 7:06 PM

Ingrid

@artichokeindigo.bsky.social

Tortie cat napping with her face smooshed into the pillow

April 28, 2025 at 12:42 AM

Ingrid

@artichokeindigo.bsky.social

I don’t drink coffee often, but I like Copper Cow single serve pour over Vietnamese style coffee—no guesswork, no device to store, just completely idiot proof.