Category Archives: home life

A grown up woman should never fall so easily…*

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*Lyrics from ABBA’s Lay All Your Love On Me. Because I was smitten from the get go. Not because I’m Swedish.

Ok, it’s been a while since my last post. That’s because this happened:

Sweet tender niece merely hours old.

See, I was all set to head to Mr and Mrs K’s for a day or two of tile work, electrical and plumbing finishing touches when my sister-in-law went into labor. Needless to say, nothing much mattered after that. Well, all except for her, her husband, and their new daughter (who is perfect, healthy and quite precious – and of course I’m not at all biased). So I missed those bits at the clients’ house. Don’t worry, though, I still have one more visit on the horizon – pictures will be coming.

read on…

Cupcake Monthly: July

published on by kati

So, the only time I allow myself a blog title that’s not a song is for Cupcake Monthly. I’ll admit, I’ve missed a few months. I may have to start calling it Cupcake Quarterly though, since my plans for the future include reigning in my sweet tooth. Anyway, several weeks ago, our dear friends Dave (of Team Carpentry) and Abbie’s lovely son, Eli, had his first birthday. And I was enlisted to provide his first ever(!) cupcake.

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I can make a change, I can start a fire…*

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*Lyrics from Janelle Monae’s song Locked Inside from her album ArchAndroid. If you don’t already own this album, buy it. It’s incredible.

New things are happening all around us. Google+ just (soft) launched, we now have Spotify in the U.S., and now I have a place to hang my step stool. (I don’t see how those things don’t relate, so stop laughing.) Though not as exciting as new technology, Jeff and I managed to get excited about a mini-makeover of sorts on our basement stairway. Which I now call the kitchen closet.

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She’s like the wind, through my tree…*

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*Lyrics from, well, if I have to tell you then you didn’t watch Dirty Dancing for three weeks straight when it played at the Calvin Theater in 1987. In which case, I can’t help you.

When we lost our beloved pup, Bec, we knew we wanted to bury her in the yard. It was where she was happiest, where she longed to be during all hours of the day, all times of the year, and where she took her last breath. She belongs to this place, if for no other reason than that she loved it, and we wanted her to remain here, even if we don’t. Of course I couldn’t stand the thought of actually digging a giant hole and chucking her into it, so we had her individually cremated. We also knew that we wanted to give her some sort of marked spot, so we’d know where she was, and be able to know she wouldn’t be accidentally dug up by any future owners. So we decided to plant a tree. A dogwood, because she was a dog, and one with pink blossoms because she was a girl. (My 8 year-old niece figured that rationale in seconds, so we knew it was the right choice.)

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Hot in the city, hot in the city tonight…*

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*Lyrics from Billy Idol’s Hot In The City.

Ok, so the lyrics are a cop out (even though that video is amazing). But it’s friggin’ hot out there! Brain = melted. So, in honor of summer’s full court press (or whatever expression makes you understand that summer is here, and she’s not taking no for an answer), I submit to you this recipe, as discovered in the lovely Canadian magazine House & Home.

Lavender Lemonade – makes about 6 adult sized glasses

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Don’t let this fading summer pass you by…*

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*Lyrics from Neko Case’s “Magpie to the Morning“ on her album Middle Cyclone. Which is amazing, by the way.

Recently, whilst lamenting that there’s nothing worth buying in thrift stores, craigslist, or what have you in our less than cutting edge used furniture market (come on, locals, you know I’m not lying) I happened upon a listing that seemed too good to be true. Button-tufted swiveling barrel chairs in their original “gold” upholstery for $20. Total. Well, turns out the listing price was a mistake, and the listing was removed. Boo.

I moved on with my life, as anyone would, and was delighted to get an email about a week later from the seller saying that he was sorry for the confusion, and that the chairs were still available, but at a new price. $50 for the pair. Seriously. Where on earth can you find two upholstered chairs for $50, let alone ones that swivel? You can’t. Unless your local comrades decide they actually don’t like the mustard-olive (they saw it as gold) faux slub silk (polyester) fabric that’s still on them from the late 70’s. Well, I don’t like the fabric that much, either, but I don’t mind paying to have them reupholstered. (I say that now – check with me once I’ve actually gone through the process and am crying about how expensive my little craigslist chairs actually cost what new ones would.) read on…

Music, makes the people, come together…*

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*Lyrics by Madonna, from Music.

Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, I almost always use song lyrics as my blog post titles. I don’t really know when I began doing it on purpose, but I do know that music has been a central part of my experience of the home improvement process. Perhaps it was my attempt to make the renovation seem more like the best parts of my summer in Boston at art school, where our loooong work days were punctuated by a variety of different musical styles, contributed by a variety of different people. Perhaps it’s because Dave and his crew started out happily playing the radio (yes, the actual, commercial soaked, ten-song-per-day playing radio) during their workdays and I just couldn’t handle it. We were already squeezed into only one-third of our downstairs, and half of our upstairs (and by half I mean two of four rooms, but not half of the square footage – it was also probably more like a third) and sharing the airwaves with craptastic music was where I drew the line. Either way, we quickly remedied the situation by supplying loud computer speakers and a cord for a wi-fi equipped iPod.

read on…