*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.
My motto’s always been, when it’s right it’s right…*
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*Lyrics from the Ron Burgundy and the Channel 4 News Team’s rendition of Afternoon Delight. Feel free to oversaturate your love for Anchorman by watching this clip from them singing it in the movie, too.
The living room, open to the dining room (and foyer), has handsome drum fixtures on the ceiling, but needs some fresher lights in the face space.
With our new thrift/antique side tables in the living room settling in nicely, and with new curtains beginning to give the space a more homey, lived-in feel (only took us 5 years to nail down a curtain choice), I thought it might be an appropriate time to examine the lighting scheme. As Brick said so eloquently in Anchorman, “I love lamp.” But, as Ron Burgundy questioned him, “Do you really love the lamp, or are you just saying that?” I, too, had a similar conversation with myself, and then with Jeff… did he really love our lamps? Because I certainly did not. Specifically in the living room where IKEA lamps reign supreme, where each lamp is merely a shade balanced on a spindly little tube of chrome (which can be beautiful, don’t get me wrong), and where the only lamp we have that has any mass is too tall (and therefore a tiny bit blinding while sitting) for the space. It’s not really working, and so I’m on the hunt for better choices.
Our sole sofa-side lamp sits just a bit too high causing a bit of a blinding spot on that side of the room.
Instead there was hot pink flashes in the sky…*
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*Lyrics from Lemonade by CocoRosie. They’re a strange group, with a haunting sound and intriguing lyrics. Note to self: investigate them further. Note to readers: please do the same.
Beauty shot: orchid porn.
It has been said (by me) that there is nothing quite like a fresh coat of paint to improve one’s mood, one’s space, or one’s perspective on life (and I especially like it when people call that fresh coat of paint a ‘lick’ of paint – so English, so dreamy). Well, the same could be said for a new shade of blush. Now, I’m not a huge make-up wearer, and we’ve already established that I don’t often wear dry clean only, hang this up right away kind of clothing. But, I do wear make-up (I am a licensed hairdresser after all) frequently enough. Infrequently enough to have a spent tub of blush awaiting replacement for, oh, it’s gotta be at least 6 months. Maybe more.
It’s only echos in the Valley love…*
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*Lyrics from Feist’s How Come You Never Go There from her latest awesome album, Metals. I recommend a blind purchase on this one, especially if you’re a Feist fan. Which I am. Naturally.
I also spotted this little silver bread basket that I thought might be a nice addition to my office mantle.
We have the best neighbors. Seriously: generous, kind, fun, smart, and just a pleasure to live near. So when we were chit-chatting with them the other day about heading out to help my mom do some grocery shopping and to get some curtain rods they sprang into action offering the exact right color, size and number of rods we were after. Sweet! (The rods were earmarked for giveaway, so we knew we weren’t taking the shirts from their backs, so to speak.) And, since you all know our time together as marrieds is precious, being able to tackle a chore like hanging curtains right away when we got to mom’s place was a huge time saver. (Of course we still ended up spending hours going here and there, fully and completely exhausting my poor mama. But still.) And what a huge difference did the curtains (and rods) make! Makes me want to sew up some curtains tut suite for my own abode.
Curtain rods from generous Erin & Nellie. Curtains from sale department of ZGallerie.
I always had a knack with the danger…*
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*Lyrics from St. Vincent’s Year of the Tiger. Love.
I must take a break from house stuff, from trivial pursuits like color stories and drying paint to celebrate a friend who just launched her first blog. Her blog is not about home stuff, or decor. It’s about breast cancer, survival and the unenviable (yet inevitable) decision she has made to undergo a bilateral mastectomy and immediate reconstruction. I only found out recently that she was diagnosed just before Thanksgiving, and her surgery is set for next week. Since we live in different states I can only offer emotional support from far away. Luckily, since she’s so damned adorable, smart, funny, warm, honest, loving and just great to be around she has a huge network of friends who are there for her (and will be there for her), and her husband and their two kids.
May your New Year dreams come true…*
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*Lyrics from The Christmas Waltz as sung by Nancy Wilson. If you listen to this song in the right mood it’ll make you cry. Or maybe that’s just me.
A few days ago I stopped over at my mom’s house for a visit. As I walked up to her door I noticed she still had her autumnal bunch of purple corn on her front door (how gauche!). She said, ‘yes, yes, I know, I need a wreath.’ I looked around and sure enough everyone had a wreath on their door. (Full disclosure: there were a few doors with shamrocks on them, but I imagine that’s a year-round thing for them.) It seemed as if everyone was getting in the holiday spirit but my mom’s place was lagging behind. Well, that I simply could not abide.
I oughta say no, no, no, at least I can say that I tried…*
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*Lyrics from Baby It’s Cold Outside as sung by Doris Day and Bing Crosby. There is nothing more comforting in winter than cozying up to old black and white movies or listening to old black and white songs.
December is a month loaded with obligations, expectations and often times disappointment. The build-up for the single greatest day of the year (be it Christmas or New Year’s Eve) can often leave people feeling like, “Really? That’s it?” I have been known to feel that way a time or two (or a dozen). It’s only natural to sense the anticipation around you, and to feel the optimism creeping in when thinking about the promise of a brand new year. And, having been raised to celebrate the most basic bits from Christmas (all the non-religious stuff) – the tree, the gift giving, the time with family, the sparkly lights, the hand made crafts – this time of year usually holds a special spot in my heart. I have to admit, however, to not really feeling into it this year.
Long did I waste, long did I sleep…*
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*Lyrics from 1,2,3’s Lonesome Boring Summer off their album New Heaven. They’re my new Local Natives. I’m so grooving on this sound right now. Hope you like them.
Autumn in New England can be spectacularly beautiful – bright, boldly colored leaves drift through the air as the trees molt into their naked winter selves, surrounded by warm sunshine-filled afternoons, followed by chilly evenings and early morning frosts. But it can also teeter toward the depressing… day after day the light slips away, darkening the already dulled landscape not yet illuminated by the cast of white snow that winter usually deposits and leaves there for month after month. Autumn slips into winter almost unnoticed as one holiday (Thanksgiving) is replaced by the almighty holiday of holidays (Christmas). And while I love a good fairy light (or twinkle light, or whatever you want to call them) I also love autumn, including the darkening, the hibernation-like feeling, beckoning a time of reflection and contemplation. Of course gratitude is also a focus of fall – gratitude for family and friends, for the life we lead, for the harvest, for the earth, for the process.
I should be better, but I’m worse…*
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*Lyrics from The Bird and the Bee’s song You’re A Cad from their album Ray Guns Are Not Just the Future. This came up on my genius mix as I was in a frenzy cleaning, organizing and rearranging the whole house.
Who would have ever thunk (that’s right, thunk) that I’d be talking about styling something? Say whaa? I know, I’ve been so focused on the grand schemes of things – the construction, the ergonomics and flow of spaces, general colors and moods – but never have I spent the time to actually tweak tchotchkes into a pleasing arrangement. I guess I have done some “decorating” in the past, and by that I mean displaying holiday ornaments, hanging pictures and plugging in lights… you know, the stuff beyond the furniture arrangements and structural placement of walls, plumbing, electrical, etc. Until now, I’ve barely given it a second thought, except to fully appreciate others’ skill and talents in making stuff seem like something else.
Time after time you’ll hear me say that I’m so lucky to be loving you…*
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*Lyrics from Chet Baker’s Time After Time. Not to be confused with Cindi Lauper’s Time After Time. That’s a whole different song.
We now take a break from our (ir)regularly scheduled, interiors focused blog posts to breathe, and thank the nature gods that our house survived the 8″ of heavy, wet snow that was dumped on us last weekend. That’s the weekend before Halloween. All plans I had to get pumpkins and mums during the weekend (since I’ve had nary a chance to do anything for my own house due to moving my mom into her condo), to carve up some scary scenes to light up in the lovely fall night to beckon small children to the door, to simply go grocery shopping (!) were dashed by lingering details that needed doing at my mom’s old place, and the enormous storm that left nearly everyone I know without power.