*Lyrics from The Hours off the new Beach House album, Bloom. I find them to be both enchanting, depressing, and soothing, all at once. Have a listen to the album on spotify for a preview. Purchase if you like. I like. I purchase.
My favorite little photographer working on some spring shots of the house.
Let’s talk about social media. Facebook. Twitter. Pinterest. Instagram (of the famed 1 BILLION dollar acquisition by Facebook). Blogging. Right, blogging. Neglecting blogging. Feeling bad about it. Overcompensating by taking Instagram pictures of stupid and repetitive things, but in a pretty way, of course (who doesn’t want to see dozens of pictures of random flower arrangements?). Updating Facebook statuses more frequently for the blog than actually blogging. Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.
Clearly, I’ve been busy. With family birthdays, including a darling tea party for my niece’s 9th birthday, a week long visit from my younger sister who’s poised to embark on a six-month stay in a foreign country, and all the requisite parties that we either attended or hosted, needless to say the blog fell off the to-do list fastest. But, I do have some projects so near completion that I’m sure to have a flurry of blog activity in no time. Some of these projects require dry and/or sunny outdoor conditions to complete. Hence the delay.
To the basement, people, to the basement, many surprises await you…*
published on by
*Lyrics from Two Door Cinema Club‘s song Undercover Martyn from their album Tourist History. I like to run to this album – it’s short (good for brief workouts) and peppy. Ok, I like to have private dance parties to this album, too. Don’t judge me.
Ok, ok, I know I owe you a big post. (Absence makes the heart grow fonder?) Well, feast your eyes on this before and after:
Basement BEFORE: knotty pine, shabby (not chic) carpet, dingy paint, peeling wallpaper.
Basement AFTER: new paint, new carpet, new baseboards make for a bright, fresh, inviting any-purpose space.
See? What did I tell you? When we first started our ‘let’s quickly do over the basement’ journey we had a wallpapered, stained-carpeted, knotty pine accented, dreary space. Not to mention (ok, I’ll mention it again, in case you missed it the first time) that after Brad rewired the whole house he had to make all these holes in the wallpapered walls (that turned out NOT to be so easy to patch). Anywho, long story short(er), we decided to paint, paint, recarpet, and paint some more. We aren’t 100% finished – there’s still the matter of switching out the outlets (from brown to white tamper-resistant), replacing the ceiling light covers, and moving the mechanical controls for the sprinkler system to the mechanicals room (which we never even thought of before now, that’s how little time we spent down there) – but for the photos, well, you’ll get the gist. Besides, eventually, once we get things a bit more styled up, I’ll update you. (You know I will, whether or not you like it.)
From the West side, to the East side…*
published on by
*Lyrics from Randy Newman’s I Love LA. Totally cheesy, totally appropriate, totally ’80s. Deal with it.
You know how, when you’re getting ready to go on vacation, you try to do everything you can to make your return home just as relaxing as you know your trip will be? You do all your laundry, make your bed, clean the house, do the dishes, mop the floors, clean the fridge, clean the bathrooms, deodorize the carpets, etc., etc. Yeah, well, we may think we can get it all done, but we never do, do we? (And, for the record, I got one bedroom clean, and the laundry washed, but not folded – that’s it.) One of the tasks I had set out to do before we left on a trip to the left coast to visit family and friends was to load my blog photos onto Jeff’s computer (since it was really a working trip for him – vacations are hard to plan when you own your own business) so I could blog while we were away (huzzah for multi-tasking!). Forget the fact that I didn’t have time (or energy – we spent half the week adjusting to LA time) to spend hours pouring over pictures, editing images and thinking up quippy captions, and finding songs to accompany my riveting posts; in this case, I didn’t have the pictures either. I believe this is the time when you could stamp a huge ‘FAIL’ on my forehead.
Is this what I deserve, a mouthful of dirt?…*
published on by
*Lyrics from Say Something by Sucré off the album A Minor Bird. Horns, floaty voices, modern and nostalgic. You should always have a soundtrack to your own life. Or you can borrow mine. Either way, sing and dance your way through your life. You’ll be happier. I promise.
The vista from behind the tree looking toward the yard - we used to stand on this area of the yard to throw the ball, and just generally be with our girl.
Letting go of an idea is probably one of the hardest things to do. I learned that the hard way – the hard, embarrassing, crying in public for hours uncontrollably way – while I was in school taking an intensive 10-week Interior Design program at Suffolk University in Boston. I was living here, in Western Massachusetts, when I enrolled in the program. I was a married (still am, happily!), older student trying to embark on a (yet another) career change. Of course, mere days before I was to leave for mini-college-camp (I actually roomed with an undergrad, who, thankfully was mature, sweet and totally easy to share space with) my mom moved in with us due to some major health issues she was facing (she’s doing fine now, again, thankfully). So, in addition to the normal stress of the actual program, I had to live apart from my husband for 10 weeks (I came home on weekends), and live with (and care for) my mom who was (at that time) ailing, and recovering from some life-threatening health stuff. Needless to say, my emotions were running high, and I didn’t exactly come out of the experience unscathed.
Pretty in pink, isn’t she?…*
published on by
*Lyrics from Pretty In Pink by the Psychedelic Furs, used in the final scene of, you guessed it, Pretty In Pink. This song was a gimme, a total cop-out as far as finding interesting songs to quote. Easy, breezy, and retro for a post that makes me feel like I still wished I looked like Molly Ringwald, like River Phoenix is my dream boyfriend, and like all I ever wanted was a pair of Guess? Jeans with zippers at the ankles.
I'm not a red person, I'm a hot pink, magenta person, complete with inappropriate attraction to pinks of all shades just because they remind me of their mother color: quinacridone violet.
Recently, on facebook, I’ve been admitting an over abundance of pink purchases of late. I mean, the occasional lipstick or nail polish seems reasonable, but when every single thing you gravitated toward in a given week was some shade of pink, well, maybe you’re developing a problem. And when I say you, I mean me. Naturally.
I’ve learned my lesson, it left a scar, now I see how you really are…*
published on by
*Lyrics from You’re No Good, as sung by Nicki Bluhm and the Gramblers. Their van sessions have been making their way around the interwebs, and for good reason. They’re good. I expect we’ll be seeing/hearing more from them in the not too distant future.
With this kind you really only need to trim off the dead heads. The plants are less mysterious. No growth = not gonna grow there. You just have to be patient and wait for them to begin to grow.
Every year, around this time, I start the process of waking up the yard from its long winter’s slumber. Now, this particular winter has been unusually mild, so the cleaning up post-winter, post-nothing has been mostly effortless (I should reveal that we have our lawn cared for by our local organic yard care guru, so we don’t have to seed, fertilize, aerate, de-thatch or de-grub). The only real task at hand was to cut back the dead bits of hydrangea to make way for the new blooms. I’ve read many a conflicting report about when to do this – some say fall pruning is best, after the summer blooms have faded, while others say never to prune them – but I’ve found that the two-fold benefits of pruning in early spring, just after the leaves begin to sprout, works best for me. The fact that I can remove dead stems, dead heads and give the plant fewer areas to focus its energy on (and therefore send all its energy to producing blooms and leaves) is a win-win in my book.
Baby, baby, baby (baby), think of me sometimes…*
published on by
*Lyrics from Aretha Franklin’s Baby, Baby, Baby from her album I Never Loved A Man The Way I Love You. Classic. Though in this case the baby I’m talking about is an actual baby. You know, of the 6 month old variety.
Beauty shot: I wish I could paint this image.
Firstly, let’s talk about spring. It’s been a crazy weather year (past 12 months, not calendar year) up here in New England, and spring has been no different. After a snow-less winter (practically) I was really looking forward to the slow discovery that is springtime. First, you notice little changes – trees start to look like they’re greening up, buds emerge from the branches on bushes, crocuses and daffodils and tulips push up from the soil, all teasing warmer weather on the horizon. We wait (usually) for that one warm spring day where you can fling open your windows, where you can finally be outside with only a light jacket, where the cool air is scented with bulbs and warming earth. However, this year spring decided not to tease us burlesque-style, but instead to head straight for the goods, flashing us like a drunken college girl on spring break. We were plunged into 80 degree weather for almost a week making the daffodils pop up and begin to wilt within a day of opening. My normal excitement for the possibility of wearing shoes with no socks, of wondering when (if) the new bulbs we planted in the fall will push through was crushed by heading straight to using the air conditioning in the car to avoid sweating through my short-sleeved shirt (which probably should have been a tank top), and wondering if I’ll fit into my summer clothes yet. Not cool, spring. Not cool.
If I were a season I’d surely be spring…*
published on by
*Lyrics from “If I Were a Bell” as sung by Beverly Kenney which can be found on her album Come Swing With Me. I know this song from Guys and Dolls (the movie), but this version is decidedly sweeter, and somehow fresher than the version I know so well. Maybe it’s because I have Mad Men on the brain, or maybe it’s because I’ve been listening to the Ella Fitzgerald station on Pandora. Either way, this song, combined with the crazy-beautiful weather we’ve been having, has been lingering in my mind.
Ok, so, remember how at the end of last summer I teamed up with Dave, Jonas and Pappy to help some clients renovate their kitchen and powder room? Of course you do. But, in case you may have forgotten, allow me to refresh your memory.
Remember this?
BEFORE: As if I had to tell you that. (Note the framed poster - it's likely one of the few design elements that re-emerged in the kitchen after it was finished.)
Well, now it looks like this:
AFTER: Talk about dramatic changes.
You make it so good, you turn a woman around…*
published on by
*Lyrics from Aretha Franklin’s version of Something He Can Feel. I am in need of a little soul, and who better to sing it for me than Aretha. We’re on a first-name basis, have been since I was a child. Though, I suppose, every woman is (or should be). Sing it, Aretha. Ladies, let me see your hips swaying to the music.
AFTER: The latest view from my kitchen. Vast improvement.
Well, first, I had planned on updating you with the status of the basement. But, well, the basement has more transformations to come, and the exterior, well, that’s pretty much complete. Of course there are more stages of finish to complete – filling holes, more staining, sealing, painting, caulking, etc. – but the overall effect is one of completion. Which is thrilling.
Time and light, I guess you are afraid of what everyone is made of…*
published on by
*Lyrics from St. Vincent‘s The Apocalypse Song from their album, Marry Me. I just love them, and since we’ve just lost an hour of darkness (or gained one in the morning) the refrain of this song was particularly poignant. And the Pandora station for her/them is amazing. If you’re into that sort of thing. Which obviously I am.
When we last met, this was how my kitchen entryway was looking.
Since I last updated you on the state of affairs at the ol’ (so happy) homestead soooo much has happened. And yet nothing has really changed. Sort of. Ok, so we changed our entryway decking and stairs, but the overall effect is the same. They’re still just stairs to get inside. I suppose it’s like wearing a grungy pair of pants to paint/stain/joint compound/generally be disgusting in and then changing into a nice pair of slacks. Still pants, but soooo much nicer to look at.
Ta-dah! Look at that! Red cedar decking, stained Burnt Hickory in Cabot exterior oil-based semi-solid stain.
