Learning and Growing, I Guess

I put colored lights on the tree. I know, I don't recognize myself. I mean what? I am a white-lighter all the way. You?

I mean, there are teams for this, right? Is it like how there are Elvis people and Beatles people? Or am I overthinking it? If I'm overthinking it only a little, that's probably the right amount for me.

Somewhere along the way, the last few years, there started being all these different whites at the store. There's warm and cool and LED and bluish and faceted and free-range, probably. I mean which white is white? And so it's like my signifier has lost its referent. Which is a painful condition, but let's not detour into Post-Structuralism this close to Christmas.

So today I was down in the basement finding Hank's fat Santa pillow guys and I saw this big coil of multi-colored lights, like the heavy duty kind that you're really supposed to use outside. And they're on this big reel and I could just picture myself so easily unwinding that baby around and around the tree. So I brought it upstairs and just like that, we stepped boldly away from the land we have known.

Not to overstate the importance of this choice even one tiny bit.

I mean, what will it look like with our ornaments on it? I will be sure to keep you posted during this adventure of my sensibilities.

In other news, it rained a ton all over the Hundred Acre Wood. And no tennis was played.

During a brief let-up, Hank ran outside to see what the foster daughters were up to. He came back inside and told me the girls were burying a snail they had got at the beach. A snail that was dead, he clarified. I nodded or made some noise of acknowledgment, I'm not sure, I was doing something else.

"Mom, I'm sorry if I crushed your happy mood," he said. I tuned back in and assured him that he had not crushed my mood and that while it was a shame the snail was dead, it was not an unnatural thing or surprising thing, etcetera.

And he said, "I just really wish I could have met that snail while he was alive."

And I had to lurch back through the kitchen doorway so I could silently laugh without him seeing me, but it was a laugh that was almost a sob.

Holidays!

xoxo

I Just Like What I Like

Bird by bird.

Today I put away my Halloween decorations. I know. They weren't still, like, on display, but they were heaped in my dining room, the spider lights, the skull pillow, the feather wreath, the little witches, Lord, I don't know what all. And my terra cotta jack o' lantern was still sitting in the middle of the table. So I moved all that back to the basement.

Do you remember when I made that runner out of tea towels? That was a weird time for me. Anyway, I pulled that out and put it on the table, because I hadn't seen that in a while, then I put my Red Wing Bobwhite birds on there. The little ones are S&P shakers, of course, but do you know what that big one is? It's an hors d'oeuvre holder. Or that's that they used to call it. It is pierced all over its back with little holes that you stick toothpicks in. What would you serve on those toothpicks? I guess like cheese and olives? Adorable!

Speaking of my weird knick knacks, my mom reminded me of how I found that stuffed swan at a flea market last year. It is almost time to bring that baby out again. But I was trying to carve out a little space for general autumnal decorating, distinct from Halloween and Christmas. So, bobwhites. I have a whole set of those dishes--I think I have service for ten--that I collected off ebay several years ago. All of that old Red Wing stuff is cool and it's not very expensive. Or it wasn't then.

That is all. Did you have a good day? We didn't do much. We did play tennis with the neighbors though, and on the way home, Matt goes, "Okay, tomorrow I'm going to do even MORE nothing."

It was too much something.

Or something. Goodnight! I think we are going to watch a movie.
xo

We Sipped and Shopped

Tonight one of our tennis friends had a little party at her garden shop. She and her mother make wreaths and decorations and such, and she let everyone know she was having a Sip 'n' Shop to kick off the holidays.

Sidebar: Back when I used to watch the Real Housewives of Atlanta, I remember that one of the wives had a baby and then invited her friends and neighbors to an open house that she called a Sip 'n' See. I remember that the whole internet exploded in derision. Like, "Sip 'n' See, is that a thing? What IS that?" I was like, it is right there in the name. You sip and you see, it is not that difficult. So uppity, the internets!

Okay, so the Sip 'n' Shop. I had not yet visited her garden nursery. Pretty Neighbor and I wanted to show our support, so off we went. The place looked like a little marzipan cottage. Everything was very cute, and there was wine and cheese. We chatted with some of our buddies and made our way around to look at everything. One older lady had on a full-length mink coat. You don't often see that in these parts, because it's not cold enough. But tonight it was. It's in the teens with the windchill. She also had on a striking red hat and pearls.

Whereas I had texted the hostess to make sure this wasn't a dressy affair and that leggings are still pants, because I would be in my tennis clothes. Or I didn't check with her about the leggings, I've made my mind up about that.

I had planned to buy a wreath there, because I'd heard that they were so pretty. I was even prepared to spend some money on it, even though wreaths, like bows and throw pillows, fall into that category of things that Matt doesn't imagine actually costing money.

(My friend Veronica and I used to have a policy. When your husband asks you how much a jacket or a purse cost, take the first digit off the price and tell him the remaining numbers, and that will sound like a reasonable amount to him. "This purse honey? A splurge at $79." Like that. Anyway.)

So Pretty Neighbor and I closed in on a pretty wreath that was festooned with owls and feathers. I turned over the price tag. "Uh oh," I said, "It has a 'one' in front of it." I scooted over and picked up a bow instead. I had a wreath already that needed bedazzling. But then somehow on the way to the cash register, I wound up holding a centerpiece with greenery and bows and two little reindeer.

Pretty Neighbor goes, "You put that on your dining room table, it's gonna Christmas that shit right up!"

Sold!

BAM.

Then we made our way back to our neighborhood, and I went around and collected the kids, and I thought about what pleasure there is in bustling through the early dark, with agreeable children, and a warm house waiting.

Here's to sipping and/or shopping for all of us. Put a bow on something maybe.

In Which I Win at Flea Markets

Noble. And Dignified. Like Louis!

Yesterday morning at my brother and sister-in-law's place, a movement arose to venture out to a local flea market. This flea market promised many delights. "They have pigs and goats!" Kate said. I was like, "I'm in." And Laura was way in. She loves looking through junk even more than I do. Hank wasn't feeling that great, he had a cold, so I threw Matt a lifeline and asked him if he would mind staying home with him. One thing I've learned about Matt in seventeen years of marriage is that he would rather be kicked straight in the throat than go to a flea market.

So we made our way up and down and looked at everything. Laura was in high spirits, because she knew it was a virtual certainty that money would be spent on her. And after I shook my head to a counterfeit North Face jacket and some disgusting cowboy boots, she lit upon a little doll chest with a cut glass knob. Mom found a Russel Wright cream pitcher for a quarter. It's exactly the same as the cream pitcher I found last year--the kind that's supposed to sit on a matching sugar bowl. WHERE ARE THE SUGAR BOWLS? Katie bought a little piece of needlepoint and some Amish cheese. Dad bought a green army blanket that must be the missing piece in his surely now-complete army blanket collection. I didn't see anything I wanted. I eyed a Frankoma serving tray in the shape of Texas. If it had been in the shape of a state where I'd ever lived, I might have bought it. But nah.

Finally we were on the way out and I saw that stuffed swan guy sitting on the ground. It tinkled some key of memory somewhere--I remember seeing patterns for these animal pillows in the fabric store when I was a kid. I turned this one over and he was clearly home stuffed and sewn. And he has a little label that says, "Wild Swan." I looked at the man in the booth, and he held up one finger. I was like, "Oh for one dollar, this is ALL MINE." Laura cheered me on. When I rejoined the rest of our group with this bird under my arm, I'm sure it was the least surprised they've ever been. I said, "I had to get this, I can't really answer any questions about it." And Kate said, "Yeah, I don't know why, but that's just you all over."

On the way home, we wondered what Matt would say when he saw my special find. Dad went with, "Really?" And I predicted something like, "Well I'm glad we got THAT finally." But when I walked in and placed the swan on the coffee table, what he actually said was, "Oh no, no, no, no, no!" Dad goes, "Nobody had that in the pool." And Matt closed his eyes for a minute. I don't know if he was tired or what. And then when we were packing the car to go, he insisted on calling it a goose. And that's just hurtful! A goose, really.

So I don't know, like my owl lamp, I couldn't just leave it there. I love animal motifs, but I am also trying to rid our house of clutter. Which makes this purchase an odd move. I may decorate it for Christmas and stick it under the tree. Or I may put it under the covers on Matt's side of the bed tonight. Or in the driver's seat of his car. So many fun possibilities!

Somebody Better Undeck Some Halls

And I guess it will be me. We got back home last night from our holiday travels and today I'm staring Real Life square in the face. Unflinching! Being home will be good for my continuing plan to eat sensibly and healthily, as ham and frosting should not be the base of one's food pyramid.

The kids don't go back to school until Thursday, which is nice. Laura is making use of the last few days of vacation. This afternoon, she has rehearsed her talent show number with one friend and is now ice skating with another. Hank and I are about to play with his new Legos. I'm going to try to play with him at the same time that I clear the dining room table of Christmas decorations.

All that stuff will be put away today.

Speaking of which, did I ever show you my Marimekko panels after I got them hung in the dining room? I love how they look in there. My mom and dad helped me get them placed right, and it was like taking the math portion of the GRE. We didn't have any fancy lasers or picture hanging tools like that though. Have we already had this conversation?

So today needs to be spent tidying and regrouping and other acts of domestic administration. Are your kids still out of school?

I leave you with a brief video of Hank and Matt's stunt from the weekend.



xoxo
b

Silver Birds

Here are the birds, newly silvered and at home in Matt's mom's house. I like how they turned out. Silvery! Hank helped me paint them (in a well-ventilated area). We also painted a leaf wreath, an ugly pitcher from Michael's, and the toes of Hank's crocs. The shoes just got a light misting though.

Today was another quiet day on Signal Mountain. The weather seems lodged in some perpetual mid-October of sun and mildness. Matt and I played a set of tennis back behind the country club. The kids helped decorate Betty's Christmas tree. We were remarking that people seem to gravitate toward the same shape of Christmas tree every year. Don't you think? Betty likes the round fat variety and I like the tall conical ones.

Matt and I were all set for a night out on the town, then we got in the car and remembered that we don't need to spend money on a night on the town at this moment. Adulthood is dumb, gah. So we got out of the car and came back inside. The kids were glad to see us back so soon. Then I put on corduroys, watched The Devil Wears Prada, drank bottles of fizzy water, and threw my empties in the corner.

Not the bottle-throwing part.

This has become one of those blogs where I tell you what I did every day.

We did not shop. Did you? I was thinking about the time my dad accidentally went shopping on Black Friday.

We'll be back home in the ATL tomorrow evening. Signing off, stay sweet!

My Newest Oldest Thing

My great grandmother's table.

My dad and my Uncle John have taken to making furniture in my uncle's backyard workshop. Or I think they are mostly chatting and drinking beer back there, and sometimes, incidentally, a piece of furniture is produced. They call their venture Mo Goodnuff, Inc, and have gone to great lengths to create promotional materials and an intricate and colorful biography for their founder and guiding figure, that tower of adequacy, Mo Goodnuff.

If you think those two have too much time on their hands, shhh! They give me things!

So the other day I mentioned that I wanted a work table for my office, and Dad pulled his granny's old table out of the garage. It had been gathering dust out there my entire life. The last time I remember seeing it actually being used in our house, I was three or four years old.

Before.

It was in rough shape. The top is over a hundred years old, but the legs, Dad said, are only fifty years old or so. We agreed they should be painted. I love that it isn't a "farmhouse style" table, it is a farmhouse table. His people were farmers and this was their table.

Dad asked what color I thought for the legs and apron, and I said, "Get mom to pick out an antique gray." Some days went by. Then I got a text message with that top picture attached. "I ignored your color preference," it said. "If you don't like it, we'll keep it."

Isn't that service with a smile? He should really be a high-priced design consultant.

But I love the blue! Mom picked two colors from the Eddie Bauer paint line, Ballard Blue and Antique Blue.

Authentically distressed.

I think they just cleaned and polyurethaned the table top, and it came back to life. The planks are cupped, but as Dad said, none of us will look perfect at 110.

I'm thrilled to have it. I just hope Mo Goodnuff delivers for free. From Florida.

Y'all cookin' today?

A Few Little Projects

'Tis the season when I want to start spray painting crap. I've blogged about spray painting things white,  and I pondered whether to paint my owl lamp (it's in its pristine state as of this writing). This year I did not paint any pumpkins, as I have in the past, so I have an itchy trigger finger. Meet the next victims.

Anyway, this is becoming one of those spray painting blogs, but I can't help it, because I did not dumpster dive these birdies, my mother-in-law brought 'em to my house and said, "Help me figure out what color to spray paint these guys." Then she left them with me so I could study their personalities. What I've decided is that they want to be silver for Christmas.

This might be a good time to review my post from last year, How Tacky Do You Let Yourself Get For The Holidays. Pretty sure we decided that the sky's the limit. So those guys are going to be silver, and this very unremarkable metal wreath I have that doesn't show up against my front door, it's going to be silver too. Anything else that gets in my way?

Silver.

Also around the house, I've been slowly getting my dining room and office together following their repainting. I think that was in September? Geez. But these things need to ripen. I've had a few big fabric panels sitting folded on a shelf, like forever, that I wanted to frame and hang. The other day I finally did. These two are Marimekko, and as you can see they're the same design in different colorways.

Here's a better view of where I'm going to put them, both together on that wall. I wanted a big bold thing going on there, and I think these fit that bill.

After I got them onto the stretchers, I texted my friend David a picture of them and said, "I'm thinking of putting these right next to each other on the same wall. Or have I lost my mind? Talk me down." He said, "In theory, that's nuts. But I'm seeing it. Do it." So I'm going to hang them. I've left them leaning together against the wall so I could try them on, but now I'm ready.

I also framed the fabric I bought at Ikea that time my sister threatened to punch a guy. That's going in my office. I'll show a pic when I get it all together.

If you have a piece of fabric you'd like to make a wall hanging of, it is dead simple. You just need four of those wooden stretcher pieces (they have them at Michael's or art supply stores), an iron, and a staple gun. The trick is figuring out which part of the image to show, and then getting it straight on the stretchers. Then it's easy peasy lemon squeezy.

And if you have any little pieces left over and you don't want to waste them, you could do what my sister did and put them in embroidery hoops. Like so. This is in my sunroom.

I'm going to give this treatment to some old toddler t-shirts and sentimental things of the kids' that I still have. Like, cut out the design and put it in a hoop, then hang it on Hank's wall and leave it there until he goes to college. Then after he drives away, I'll walk into his empty room and sit on his bed. Then my eyes will land on the little embroidery hoop containing a piece of his old "100% Love" shirt, and then I'll have a good soaking cry. So thanks for that, embroidery hoops.

(I should say that my finally getting to the fabric panels was inspired by Aimee and her excellent 30 Days of No Procrastination project. Props to her!)

Y'all got any Holiday craftiness going on?

xo
b

Domestica

Today was a great Saturday spent in and around the house. I slept late and then spent the rest of the morning watching tennis, which made me feel, by afternoon, as though I needed to pay for this leisure with extra industry. And that my kids needed to help me pay.

We all trouped upstairs and I started hollering instructions. Hank put away a basket of his folded clothes while Laura and I started on the kids' bathroom. I left it in her capable hands and went into my bathroom to try to fix the toilet. It had been continuously running a couple weeks ago, so I'd jammed a wire coat hanger under the floaty ball arm thing. Apparently that isn't a permanent solution, so I sat astride the seat and went at it with a screwdriver. I tried tightening the screw holding on the floaty ball arm, which worked once before, but no. Finally I summoned Matt and asked him to go into the world and find one of those kit things that has all the toilet tank parts in it. He went and did that. So now we own a kit thing that contains a bunch of toilet parts. I'm not sure if the next step is my job or not.

Then Laura helped me change a lot of bedding (time for the PB Swedish House duvet set, yay!) Then I sent them down to the basement to bring up the bins for the Halloween decorations. Then we un-Halloweened ourselves, packing away the black feather wreath, the purple and orange tinsel garland, the stuffed pumpkins, black felt table runner, the string of spider lights, the black velvet pillow, the scarecrow boy and girl, the terra cotta jack o' lantern, and Hank's sign that says, "WELCOMEGREATPUMPKIN." I was sad to see them go.

But, my cleared-off table inspired me to go into my table linen archive and bring out these Orla Kiely for Target placemats, which I haven't used in a long while. I love the stuff from that line; I think it is maybe my favorite of the Target-designer special lines. That was like, three years ago? It is good quality, I use some piece of it every day, and I'm always glad to see it. I think the overall Winner of Winners was the canister set. It's the Missoni-for-Target of my heart.

Then it was late afternoon and I still hadn't gotten any real exercise, unless you count sweeping leaves off the trampoline and double-bouncing Hank. So Matt and I went up to the tennis courts to hit for a while. We left Laura in charge of Hank at the house. We've been experimenting with doing this--letting her watch him for short times while we're in the neighborhood, like at tennis practice. She has her phone, I have mine, and my instructions are, "Laura, your job is not to boss Hank, but to watch him and help him. Hank, mind Laura." So far it has worked out great. She has good instincts, and he is a pretty sensible kid anyway.

We went and played a set and darned if I lose to him every time. It is distressing to me, since I've played two seasons of ALTA now, and he's just picked up the game in the last couple of months. I won one game off of him and that was because I got him chatting about something. Wiles!

Then we came home and I said, "Do you want me to make that chili?" And Matt was all, "Wellll..." So I went in to the kids and he left and got Mexican takeout. Then we watched Gnomeo & Juliet. Then I vacuumed my rugs while Matt gave the kids their nightly wrestle. Now they are all three asleep. Matt will probably rouse himself in a minute here and lumber back downstairs to his lair.

Now you are fully up to speed. It is a thrill-a-minute, but daily blogging, you know?

What are y'all doing?

My Office: Before and During

Before:

Hardworking sardines.

Today:

Better, yes?

Ah, I love having an empty room. Going in there is like taking a deep, cleansing breath, or like being in my spirit cave with my power animal. It makes me wonder if we should get rid of 80% of the stuff in our house. I think the answer is probably "yuh huh."

So, all this picture shows is that the old yellow walls have been covered with The Perfect Gray. (Behr's Dolphin Fin.) Those built-in shelves I left white and didn't repaint, but they look much fresher against the cooler color. Same with the molding and trim, in here and in the dining room. White loves gray.

I haven't put anything back in here because I'm having the carpet cleaned Monday. Then I'm on the hunt for a bigger work table than the little writing desk I had in here back in the day. I'd like something big enough that I could put my sewing machine on. There is a perfect vintage library table on craigslist right now, but unfortunately they want money for it. I also need to put all the pictures back on the wall. Finally, some of the crazy fabric panels I've collected will have a home. You'll see more about that.

I snapped this picture because I glimpsed Laura and her buddy hanging out in here, and I realized Laura likes having a cleared-out room as much as I do. What is it about an empty space?



Y'all doing okay? All normal here: school, work, preschool, tennis, chores, car repairs (ugh), Breaking Bad on Netflix. Also preparing meals and futile tidying. You know.

Buzz Buzz, Great New Hive

Tonight I watched Winter's Bone on the Netflix. Wow, it was really good, but now I need an injection of Prozac straight into my spinal column. Bleak. I mean, you know, the Ozarks, you have like forty dogs but no car, every adult in sight is cooking meth, what could possibly go wrong? I do recommend it, but it's intense. Jennifer Lawrence is the lead, and she has also been cast as the lead in Hunger Games. I remember some outcry over that, but after seeing her in Winter's Bone, I don't doubt that she will be good as Katniss. She can play tough. And I just realized she was the young Mystique in that X-Men movie earlier this summer? I didn't even notice her in that. It could have been that she was in a scene with Michael Fassbender and everything on screen was blown out by his ridiculous, excessive telegenicity.

Busy day here chez Matron. This morning I had a long tennis practice. A new girl has joined the team who might be worse than me. This is very exciting, the prospect of not being the weakest player on the team. Probably she will turn out to be a bit better than me though, we'll see.

Then I went home, where my parents and I finished painting my dining room ceiling and then tackled the now-vacant office. I had cozened them into leaving their mountain citadel, where temperatures are in the 70's, to come to my house and help me paint. I would say the two rooms were a solid day-and-a-half of work, and I haven't done the office ceiling yet.

I'm very happy with it. I'll have miraculous "after" pics soon, but the color is Behr's Dolphin Fin. I first saw this in my friend Erika's house in LA, and I've had it in mind for two years. It is a great gray, the Mama Bear of grays, as it is not too warm, not too blue, not too green, just right. For the ceiling I went with Irish Mist, which is a barely-there silvery gray on the same paint card.

Funny, when you're painting in your house, you really confront the mistakes made and shortcuts taken by the previous owners and their home improvement projects. I was affronted to realize that the entire underside of the chair rail on my dining room wall was smeared with red paint from some 1990's red dining room moment. Very sloppy work, first owners! There was lots of taping and edging and finally I sat on the floor with a child's paintbrush and scooted around the room until I couldn't see any more red. And the same with the tops of the window frames. I mean, can't we try a little harder?

That kept me and most of the household busy like bees all day. And Hank starts school tomorrow. Fingers crossed for a smooth launch! xoxo

Men with Schemes

My dad is like the Thomas Edison of western North Carolina, especially when it comes to the drinking of whiskey. He is filled with schemes and little lifehacks to make it better and more pleasurable. Over the weekend he decided to wash some river pebbles and then put them in the freezer, in hopes that they would cool his drink without diluting it.

Sidebar: growing up, there were often weird things in our freezer. My siblings will testify. One I remember was an Indigo Bunting that died in our backyard. Dad wanted to figure out why it died, so he froze it, in our household freezer, for some future postmortem. Then there was the time that a Sharp-Shinned Hawk smacked the sliding glass door and died, so Dad took his feet (!) and put them in non-iodized salt to dry them out. They went on the bookcase. And THEN there was the time he took the head of a dead cardinal and put it in an ant bed so the ants would clean the skull. He reports he still has the skull, yes, on his bookcase. You would be right in thinking he is something of a character--kind of a cabinet-of-curiosities naturalist--but lovable and normal-seeming. Normal enough. Also, at this very moment, in the mountain house freezer, my mom has a bunch of bright fall leaves from last year. I guess she was conducting an experiment to see if they'd stay fresh and colorful. They are really quite a pair.

Anyway, so the river rocks were supposed to cool the whiskey without melting like ice. Dad reports that it turns out, they don't cool the drink. I'm thinking that if that worked--if rocks held on to cold like that--mountain rivers would stay icy 'til June. But I'm not the scientifical one.

And on Friday night, I saw him inflate an air mattress with a leaf blower. Ingenuity.

I look different with a mustache.

Sunday afternoon, my mom and I joined the literati of Sylva, NC to hear Ron Rash read from his new book of poems. I admire his work, and he's one of the town's favorite sons. If you liked Serena, you'll be glad to know he has a new novel coming out in April. I think that when the movie of Serena gets made, he'll be a big(ger) deal. Anyway, we got some culture and there was wine there.

Then we went to an antiques barn, where I inspected every piece of merchandise in the place. I scored a Russell Wright cream pitcher, perfect condition, for six bucks. Now I will spend my life looking for its sugar bowl. WHERE ARE YOU, SUGAR BOWL? I also snagged a $7 Italian vase that I think isn't exactly Bitossi but is a Bitossi cousin or step-cousin. Nice mid-century look, in any case.

That's it on the left. It looks happy with its new family, the little Rosenthal-Netter and that Danish egg thing, don't you think?

Mom and Dad took us to a new swimming hole on Straight Fork Creek, just inside the national park. It was beautiful. Also, this just in: beagles are not water dogs. Percy checked the place out for a while, and then went and sat by the car. I had to snap a pic of her in her signature pose.

What I didn't do this weekend was blog. Darn it! But it was such a nice respite from Atlanta, where it was hot as balls last week. Did y'all have a nice one? Did you get Irened?

Missed you. More tomorrow. xoxo

I Have Practically Attained Nirvana in My Asceticism

My mother-in-law Betty and I made our quarterly trip to Ikea today. The last time we went is here, and the time my sister almost lost her shizz in there is here. This time wasn't just a meatball trip, because Betty actually wanted to buy things. And buy them she did.

That was just one of our two carts. She bought those two armchairs (the Ekenas for you enthusiasts) and a couple of the Henriksdal dining chairs. And six pairs of curtains and a bunch of pillows. You should have seen the two of us getting those armchairs onto that cart. And then into my van. Oh me. I was sweating like a whore in church by the time it was over, and we had to take one of the chairs out of the box to fit it in, but we got her done.

I bought: three doormats (what becomes of all the doormats?); two tea towels with pictures of teacups on them; and that white plastic stool with the little rubber circles on top, the one that everyone has from Ikea. I think that is probably the most ubiquitous Ikea object out there. What do you think?

We've actually had one for years, but in our working on the basement, it worked its way down there, and yesterday I found myself needing it upstairs, and I was like, "I cannot live this way." Stools.

So I only spent like $21 and it was all cool. I just repeated my mantra, "I already have nice things," and it was fine. EXCEPT when I saw that they now make a cushion for the Poang chair--another thing maybe one in three people have--a cushion that is made of gray sheepskin. Holy macaroly. Look upon it. All must love it and despair.

It cost $189. I thought, "That pays for a month of electricity in the summer, when the A/C is running." That helped me walk away but I am not kidding, I have thought about it all afternoon. It is so me that there is no more me beyond that.

I mean, the two Poang chairs we have had for about eleven years do have functioning cushions, if a little worn and faded. When we first got those chairs, they were our main furniture. They've suffered a process of slow demotion over the years. Now, one is in the book room, and one is in the basement nerd lair. They are super comfy though, as you know if you have 'em.

This is a thrilling post: Old Furniture I Have Known

So, yes, Betty got some lovely things to fix up her living room. And Hank got a cinnamon roll and to play in the Smaland. And I got some meatballs and a feeling of sanctified austerity. A win-win-win.

Any retail item that's got you yearning?

Epic Basement Action

It took me all day yesterday to recover from what went on in the basement Thursday night. I've been too tired to even tell you, omg!!!!1!

Our builder dudes were finished with their work on Tuesday, a bit earlier than was expected. In accordance with his scheme, Matt then spent all day Wednesday and Thursday down there hanging drywall in three additional rooms. Since our marital discord around this plan the other day, I had kept my mouth shut and waited to see what would happen. I was busy with life on the main floor, but I thought maybe it would work out or maybe he would change his mind once he got into the project, and then we would move ahead with our floor staining and painting.

Matt did tell me that he had done drywall before. I was like, "Really? When in our sixteen years of marriage, a time in which I've been pretty closely observing you, did you manage to get around and hang some drywall?" (That's me keeping my mouth shut.) He reminded me that he did construction one summer in college. Ah. I hadn't remembered that. I just remembered how tan and muscly he was when he got back to school. So yes, drywall. Drywall is hot!

And then, lo, he got it done, he got all the drywall in place. One thing I forgot in this situation is that Matt is like a force of nature. Once he decides to do something, something that is important to him, he will not stop. Honey badger don't care.

So it got to be Thursday evening and Matt had not surfaced from his basement activities. I knew that according to the timeline he had in his head, he wanted to have the first coat of stain on the concrete floor by bedtime. That meant that the drywall needed to be taped and have the first round of mudding done. Then the storage area--a  room we call the bomb shelter--needed to be cleared out because we're staining the whole floor, even in the unfinished areas. Then the bare floor needed to be cleaned, and cleaned well. Then the stain needed to be put on.

I decided that I better step in and help, and that this situation was covered in some portion of our marriage vows. I can't remember which part but I know I promised a buncha things. So I put the kids to bed Thursday night and went down into the depths about ten o'clock. Our bud (and Matt's coworker) Lincoln showed up to help.

Reader, we worked until 6:30 Friday morning. OMG. Yes, to the break of dawn!

It was not the all-nighter that dreams are made of.

First I got a crash course in taping drywall. It involved getting up and down off a stepladder a lot. Then I got to apply the joint compound. That was kind of fun--the joint compound is the consistency of heavy-duty frosting, and it was like decorating a fugly cake. When that was done I was kind of tired.

But nobody showed any sign of slowing down. The whole time Matt and I had been working on the drywall, Lincoln was emptying the bomb shelter. He picked things up and carried them out the back door for two hours. We chatted. They talked about work a lot. I frosted the walls.

Then that was done and the entire 1500 square feet of basement floor was cleared off. We swept. Then I vacuumed, and then Matt vacuumed. That white dust that sheetrock produces...oh man, we sucked so much of that off the floor and out of the crevices. At one point the vacuum cleaner gave signs of walking off the job, and Matt took it out into the backyard and gave it a talking to. Or cleaned the filter. Then Lincoln and I mopped, the old-fashioned way, with two buckets of water, one for clean water and soap, and the other to rinse.

Have you ever mopped a concrete slab? It does not make you feel like the smiling housewife in a 1950's commercial. More that the water disappears before your very eyes, soaked into the concrete, and you hardly feel like you're doing anything, except the mop and then the water and then you get filthy. And this feels like progress. Also, mopping is hard. It wasn't like schmooping or schmopping or whatever my hardwoods, with the cute microfiber mop head and the darling spray bottle. This mopping made my back sore. And it was a lot of floor and it's not smooth, frictionless floor.

Even so, morale was high. There was a definite esprit de corps, and many hands make light work and all. It just got later and later. And Matt showed no signs of stopping. Like the Oompa Loompas in that one part of that movie. Or like Kurtz. Dude was determined. Did I totally get the timeline and the urgency? Do I now? Not really, but I didn't want to be the weakest link.

Somehow in typing all this it doesn't seem like that much work. But at the time, I swear, I thought, "We few, we happy few! The bards will sing of what we have done this night!"

We got the floor clean, and it was dry almost immediately. Matt rigged up the sprayer with the concrete stain and put the first coat down. We sprayed our way out of the basement and up the stairs. I staggered into the dawn and realized that Laura was getting up for school. I got her on her way, showered, and fell asleep. And Hank, bless his sweet heart, slept until after ten o'clock.

Not much was accomplished on Friday. I was too tired to work out with my neighbor. But not too tired to roll over there and eat birthday cake with her family. I figure I burned a lot of calories mopping that concrete slab.

So the floor is coming along. Matt put a second coat of sealer on it this afternoon. I'll do a post with all the floor details, it might be edutaining for someone. Here's what it looked like after the first coat of sealant.

Shiny!

So that is what is going on below decks. And the whole night, Matt and I got along beautifully and never squabbled. Until today when he started talking about something crazy and I was all, uh, not on my watch beeyotch, and he was all ??? and I said, um, I didn't mean for that to sound as negative as it did and he said, yeah, you couldn't have meant for that to sound as negative as it did.

I'm paraphrasing.

Longest post ever.

Happy Saturday, my dears!

We Are Flushed with Excitement

This is Laura exulting in the fact that there's now a working toilet in our basement. That's the bathroom-in-progress behind her. As soon as the kids saw that potty, they both wanted to use it. Something about the novelty of peeing in a room in your house you could never pee in before? I will admit that I felt it too, the desire to give the toilet its maiden flush.

It is exciting though, just the idea of having more usable space in the house. The basement guys were down there all week, working on a couple of rooms for Matt and the four (!) other guys who are now in my guest room. (They hired another guy last week and things officially went from crowded to some kind of reality-show dare.) The basement space is going to be very basic--no granite wet bar--but it will give us all some much-needed wiggle room. Like I will get to wiggle back into what used to be my office.

In a spasm of frugality, Matt told the basement guys that we would do the floor and the painting ourselves. Because we are so, so handy. No, we are not. But we are game. And I have always liked the look of a concrete floor that has been stained and buffed, so we decided that's what we'd do. I researched it this morning. Most DIY websites make it seem super-duper complicated, like, compose your mind, then put on rubber waders and etch/clean the floor with acid, and then neutralize the acid with baking soda, and then pour out libations to the gods, then clean up the libations with a shop-vac, and so on.

Then I read a bunch of old Apartment Therapy posts and people were like, "Oh yeah, just throw some stain on that shit! Put a bird on it!" So I thought that if the actual task were somewhere in between those two scenarios, we could handle it.

We loaded up the whole family and went to the big box home improvement store. Matt and I talked to a fairly knowledgeable dude in the paint department, and he made it seem pretty simple. He told us that with an untreated slab, like we have in the basement, there is no need to etch it or clean it with acid, it is rough enough. We can just clean it, clean it again, apply the stain with a sprayer, and then decide if we want to put a glossy sealer on it (I do). So we left there with the tools we need to do the job, we think. I'm sure you will hear more about this.

The basement guys should be finished in the middle of the week. I will not miss the pounding. Oh my God, the pounding. When I returned from the mountains late last Sunday night, Matt warned me that they would be starting work at 7:30 the next morning. I thought, "It will be in the basement, I sleep on the second floor, how loud could it be?" Oh ha. Ha ha. It turns out that when someone is doing framing work at the bottom of your house, they are banging on the bones of your whole house. It is loud, best believe.

So, to recap: if you come to my house, we can offer you an additional place to potty. And Matt and I are going to stain the floor. I know it will be really good for our relationship, because they always say that trying new things keeps your marriage fresh. Onward.

From the Pillow Archive

When I look back at this post I wrote last year, when all the Liberty of London stuff was in Target, it is obvious to me that I was buying a crapload of it because I'd just been diagnosed with breast cancer and I wanted something pretty.  I think I knew it then, in fact I even remember saying to my sister, around the time of my first chemo treatment, "It's like I just want to shop." I mean, look at this.

Hilarious. And there was more, much more.  People gave it to me as gifts. I wound up with nearly every darn thing in that collection. But I loved every bit of it, and it worked. All those pretty patterns really did cheer me up, and a year later, I'm still enjoying this stuff.  A few days ago I was down in the basement and I paid a visit to my pillow archive.  I'd had some black and white pillows on my sunroom sofa (my winter-into-spring transitional pillows, doncha know) and I felt it was time for a seasonal change. The orange and yellow floral pillows had yet to see the light of day, so I brought them upstairs where they could breath.

I'm liking them a lot, but they are fighting a bit with that dark kilim rug. I'm ignoring that problem for now. Before too long I'll roll that puppy up for the summer. Also--and this will be in my upcoming book about photography styling--a single, mysterious rain boot, on a sunny day, and a banana peel, placed casually on the coffee table, are just the accessories you need for that lived-in look.

And look, weeks before, in an unrelated move, I'd brought this flower pot into this room.

Matchers!  So uncharacteristically coordinated of me.

So that's my jam. Are you Springing up your place?

Owl Lamp: How About Now?

Remember when I showed you this owl lamp I got out of a dumpster in North Carolina?



In that post I was thinking of spray painting it ivory and finding a new shade for it. I had reservations, though. I thought it might look a lot less interesting all one color. I wasn't sure what to do with the eyes, either.  I asked for your thoughts.  Click back there to refresh yourself.  Opinions ranged from "Yes! love it! paint it!" to "If you paint it you change the species!" and my favorite, "Put it outside, in a sturdy tree."

I pondered these things in my heart. I was a little daunted by the rewiring so I let it rest down there for a while. Then I was at Pottery Barn with my mother last week and they had a redorkulous sale on lampshades. this huge linen drum shade was sitting there for $11.  Marked down from $59. Good enough that I broke my streak of not having bought anything for myself or the house since Jan 1. It wasn't the solid color shade I'd been envisioning, but I thought it might make the as-is version of the lamp work.  Yesterday I brought the owls upstairs, dusted them off, and gave them new wiring.  Then I put the shade on and sat them in the dining room. Go ahead and tell me what you think.









Now, I had planned to put it on top of Hank's chest of drawers.  The problem is that when he walked around the corner and saw it, he said, "AAHH!"  Then, a while later, he saw it again and said, "AAHH!"  Laura hadn't heard any of that, and when she came home, I said, "Laura, come in the dining room and look at my lamp."  She walked in and said, "AAHH!" I don't think it is really so scary, I mean, look at those sweet faces. I think it is startling in its largeness.  The picture with Hank gives you some idea.

So I don't know. Part of me is curious about what it would look like painted. But it's kind of growing on me as it is.  You know what? If I had a buffet or sideboard in my dining room, I would put it on top and leave it in there. Doesn't it look happy in that room?  Have I lost my mind?

Are People Taller Here?

I am in Los Angeles, having flown here today to go to a conference and stay with my friend Erika. I will also hook up with Gretchen and Beth.

When I got here and Erika picked me up, I said, "It's like everyone looks familiar here. Why is that? Do I really know them?" And she said, "It's because they look like they're from California and you haven't seen Californians in a while and when you get here you're like, 'Oh hey, there you guys are.'" So maybe that's it.

She picked me up and we had a one martini lunch. Then we sat and looked at the ocean while we talked of important things and she tried my new lip gloss.

Then I went with her to her neighbor's house.  The neighbor is out of town and Erika is minding her house. I was inspired by the decor and took pictures of the kitchen.

Is it not inspiring? Lime green cabinets, baby.  Love it with the marble.

Then, while walking around the block, I trash-picked a rattan side table from a neighbor's rubbish.

So I guess you could say I am making myself at home.

Please have a nice Friday.  I have been so busy this week with the business of getting back on track after vacay, I haven't had time to pop in.  I've missed our little talks though.

xo
West Coast Me

New Ornaments

Have you a jolly echidna on your tree?

When my parents were in Australia last month, I asked them to bring me two things: Christmas ornaments and tea towels. They delivered.  We have this sledding monotreme up here, and also this pretty star.

Matt gave me this one on my birthday.

One day I will have a tree that is decorated in one of those elegant, monochromatic color schemes, like you see in magazines.  Maybe celery green glass balls with white accents.  But today is not that day.  Hodgepodge is the only scheme we know how to pull off.  That's a scheme, right?

Speaking of hodge and podge, the fat Santas are on duty.

They're the first thing you see when you walk into the house. ELEGANT.

Have you finished decking your halls?

How Tacky Do You Let Yourself Get for The Holidays?

As I write this, I'm wearing a shirt that says, "MEET ME UNDER THE Mistletoe."  Or that's my best rendering of the shirt's typography.  It's written in those fuzzy letters like on 1970's little league jerseys, bright white letters on a green shirt.

When he saw it last night, my dad said, "Ah, did you pay money for that?"  I said I had.  He said, "That doesn't seem like you."

He's right.  I don't really have holiday-specific clothing and I certainly don't have clothing that speaks in actual words.  Yet I found myself in Old Navy one morning this week, and somehow I became owner of the mistletoe shirt and a waffle knit top with a reindeer on it AND, help me, a t-shirt that says "I've been nice."  Or really it says, "I'VE BEEN NICE."

I'm embarrassed.  But at least I didn't buy the "I've been naughty."  If that had happened, you would know that the pod people had seized control of my body.  Or that I'd been Imperiused.

Vulgaro!

And also, since I'm telling y'all everything, today I formed the thought, "It might be nice to have some Christmas earrings."

!!!

And do you know what I think is going on?  I think this is about not having my hair.  I don't have my long hair to be my decoration (except in dreams I still do). Hank and Laura both have various Christmas events in their classrooms, and with my no-nonsense Rachel Maddow hair, I somehow feel the need to jazz it up a little.

Festoonio!

Are you doing this?  What are your aesthetic boundaries for this season?  Even in other areas of adornment, I feel myself being pulled in a different--okay let's just say more tacky--direction than I go in non-holiday times. Witness the two pillows I have that look like fat little Santas.  I do not usually decorate with dolls.  And if I could afford one of those retro tinsel trees that is, say, bright aluminum, with the rotating color wheel, I would be on it like stink.

Bedizen!

We haven't gotten our tree yet, but we will this weekend.  We're easing in.  I have a Christmas tablecloth out and I switched to my Christmas bedding.  Yes, you would not meet me and think, "This girl has Christmas bedding."  This is what I'm talking about.

(It is the Pottery Barn "Swedish House" pattern and it sold out instantly and I had the duvet cover but I had to fight, like Hunger Games-style fight, for pillow shams on ebay.  Give me that Euro sham or I will shank you.)

By the way, if you DO wear a shirt that says, "I've been naughty," I am sure you are just quoting the wearing of the shirt and aren't actually wearing it so you are adorable and it totally works.

Night-night and MEET ME UNDER THE MISTLETOE.

And you didn't think I would post this without linking to this sweatshirt?

Snooch to the nooch,
B