The last two weeks have been doozies.  It wasn’t anything major just a bunch of junk all stuffed into too small a pair of low-rise jeans–we all know what that’s like, right, at least we women post baby?  Anyway, I volunteered to help proctor the local homeschoolers standardized testing for two days.  The first day I didn’t bring amusements to pass the time.  So after I caught up with all my Facebook friends on my phone, it was pretty much stick a needle in my eye please!  The second day I brought Sharpies and a drawing pad—ahh, much better.

I also brought a piece of watercolor paper on which my 4-year-old had done a gray wash.

A quick drawing and a cheap frame are perfect above the steamy, greasy stove.

Okay, and humor me now, my 8-year-old son and I amused ourselves at break time with our snack–pistachios.

Please tell me you find these as hilarious as we did.  I think I was the only homeschool mom there in purple skinny jeans, hunched over a pile of pistachios, giggling, and taking photos of them with my phone.

The best part?  My son wasn’t the least bit embarrassed by me.  It’s a different story, however, when I crank up the classic Michael Jackson in the car and dance along.  PYT, Pretty Young Thing!  ”Stop, Mom!”

Finishing touches are slow coming in the kitchen.  I move things in and out daily on a trial basis.  But I LOVE the open shelves.  So easy.

I’m so sorry to be MIA on comments and emails.  Thank you for your patience!

We wait for the moment when they finally utter the words that make every diaper change and spit up worth it–”Mama.”  Then there are days when the word is strung together in multiples and the rapid fire tries my patience.  Motherhood is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.  I remember crying the week after our first child was born, saying, “Nobody told me it would be this hard.”  The thing is, our mothers have made it all seem effortless, right?  I didn’t see the exasperation on my mother’s face when for the 10th time that day I asked, “Mama?”  And she said, “What is it, Angie?”  For the 10th time I would stammer, “Uh…um…I love you.”

I pray my children know that even in the tense moments those sweet words don’t go unnoticed and they do warm my heart like no other.  I’m lucky enough to be called their Mama.

I made this painting in 1997 in my first painting class for my art degree.  I used a photo of my mother breastfeeding me and my grandmother’s bread recipe for the collage assignment.  Today it hangs in the laundry room because, well, my husband doesn’t want to see his mother-in-law’s breast daily.  Sorry, Mom.

So to our mothers who have breastfed us or warmed a bottle for us in the wee morning hours, thank you and happy Mother’s Day!  To Peggy and Sherry, my mother and mother-in-law, thank you for raising us with love, patience, sacrifice, and growing us strong on Choplets and cottage cheese loaf.  We love you!

By T.S. Eliot

 The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
   It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
 You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
 When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.

 First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
   Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
 Such as Victor or Jonathan, or George or Bill Bailey -
   All of them sensible everyday names.

 There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
   Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
 Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter -
   But all of them sensible everyday names.

 But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
   A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
 Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
   Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?

 Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
   Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
 Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum -
   Names that never belong to more than one cat.

 But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
   And that is the name that you never will guess;
 The name that no human research can discover -
   But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.

 When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
   The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
 His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
   Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
     His ineffable effable
     Effanineffable
 Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

~~~~~~~~

I’d like to introduce Trixie and Milo, grey girl and orange little boy respectively.  It has been a fun weekend, and the kittens quickly made themselves at home.  After a rough couple of weeks for us, adopting these two sure makes for a fine balm.  A fluff of fur and a purring motor do wonders to raise the joy meter–that, and answered prayers.

Even this guy, who adamantly said “no more cats,” can’t resist an evening snuggle.

Remember my trashy 1950s magazines?  When I saw this article title, I knew I had to frame it.

For two reasons:

One–now don’t hate me–but it is my way of subtly making fun of all those sayings and stuff people love to pin.  I find them a wee bit nauseating, but you hate my family room shelves so we’re even.  Hilarious, isn’t it?  I’d love for this to be pinned a million times as someone’s motto.

Two, it is totally tongue-in-cheek because I tend to do the opposite of what makes people popular (like posting horrendous photos of my family room shelves…that nobody pinned for inspiration, can you believe it?).  I’m tempted by popularity, but ultimately I have this aversion to it.   I guess I love a good underdog. But it is totally hypocritical to be writing on the INTERNET if I didn’t want people to read what I post.  So, whatever.  I just love the silly thing–and, it’s pink, too!

~~~~~~~~

So, there was good feedback on the last post about the family room bookshelves.  I asked my husband tonight to read the comments and he laughed out loud at this one by Lazy Susie:

Wow.  I have had a lifelong love affair with shelving, esp the full wall kind.  Not until now have I seen ugly shelving that just does not work.  I’m in a bit of a daze.  I didn’t think it possible.  You could fill it up with baskets and keep all your junk from the junk drawers there, but it’s probably best to take those babies down and end everyone’s misery.

I have walls of bookshelves filled with books.  It looks great; it’s very functional (with cabinets on the bottom); and it’s not even a third or fouth cousin to yours.

Speaking it like it is, she is.

“See?” I petitioned my husband. “Everyone agrees with me.  They should come down.”

And then later my opportunity came when he asked me, “What do you want for Mother’s Day?”

Score!

I want to obliterate those shelves, that’s what I want.  So I have a plan that may be fairly easy–so says the lady who will not be doing the work.  We’ll see.

Adjacent to the kitchen is our family room, den, keeping room, family room–whatever you want to call it.  I call it groan, ugh, gack!  But for purposes here today, we’ll call it the family room–and you’re about to see a side of it never shown before.  Our next door neighbor, who has lived next door since 1954, told me this room was added on in the 1960s.  This is what it looked like when we moved in:

Shelves and more shelves–and I’ve never had enough stuff to fill them all.  And the TV?  In that closet.  For real.  We had to open the doors anytime we wanted to watch TV.  When we had our first kitchen remodel in 2008, I had the cabinet maker rework this wall to better accommodate TV watching.

He took out one door to mount the TV onto the wall–and now the closet is just for all the electrical stuff and black boxes I don’t know how to operate.  We also store all the DVDs and video game equipment here too…as well as my husband’s guitar and amp.  It’s a big closet.  This set-up works well for the TV–but what about all that other clutter?  I’ve never been excited to work with these shelves.  And, really, it wasn’t until the last two years that I dare to put anything except board books on the bottom two shelves.

Oh, there are more shelves:

This is so embarrassing!

Can you imagine watching TV with all this other visual clutter going on?  My options:

1. Buy a ton of filler books.  I know people do this, but I’m much too practical for that.  It’s just more stuff.  And have you ever moved books before?  I much prefer bookshelves full of books–creates a pattern rather than clutter–but that would be a whole boatload of books to fill these shelves.  And all those beautiful “coffee table” books are too deep to fit on these shallow shelves.
2. Buy a ton of chic accessories.  Well, that would be fun and very expensive.  But I don’t want to buy stuff just to fill space, this much space.  And I think it still would look cluttered even in a monochromatic-one-thing-on-a-shelf way.  Thatsa lotta shelves.  Or, I could use the money I would spend on accessories for number 3…
3. Remove superfluous shelves.  I love this option.  It’s mainly demo, right?  And a simple patch job.  Ahh, and my eyes wouldn’t ache at the clutter!  So I pitched it to my husband, “For what we could spend on just junk to fill the shelves, Chris could take all or some of the shelves down.”  And then I think I just heard Chris’s tires squeal out of town because I’m dreaming up just one more thing for him to do.

So, I’ve got some things to figure out.

Also, thank you to you all who chimed in on my chandelier quandary in the kitchen.  I’m waiting it out–for the table and chairs to be done, plus some killer art by moi (did I tell you I’m about to start French on Rosetta Stone?  My kids are already lessons ahead of me…better get crackin’ before they start asking me to pardon their French!).  It isn’t out of the question to move the chandelier out–but not out of the house.  It is original, I love it, and I want to keep it.  Who knows!?

Okay, so the question is, can we still be friends even though I suck at enormous bookshelf enthusiasm?

The shelves and lights from Rejuvenation are finally up!  I love them!

Chris made the shelves out of a 2″ plank of red oak.  He left the edges fairly rough…

…but the tops smooth for easy cleaning.

Aren’t they beautiful?  I’m having fun figuring out what to put up there.  So far I’m loving the easy access of our plates and bowls on the lower shelf.

Here is a full shot of the rug from esalerugs.com.

I’m also playing with that little shelf above the stove.  Right now I have a little ornate mirror I bought at an estate sale way back in our Houston days…nothing like looking at myself while I cook.  But it is an efficient way to check my lipstick and hair status before my husband gets home from work…I’m old-fashioned like that.

Tell me, am I crazy to reconsider the crystal chandelier in here?  I like it but also feel it may take the kitchen in an opposite direction than I want.  Hmm…

I had promised the kids that as soon as the kitchen was done and cleaned up, we would bake something yummy.  They chose Lemon Coconut Cake from Veganomicon by Isa Chandra Moscowitz (she’s kinda my hero).

Wanna see how it turned out?  Ugh!  Still good enough to eat…and when Daddy is out of town, we have a chunk of cake for dinner with some fruit and soysage.

This is what it really looks like when my Bundt pan isn’t being persnickety.  Yum, definitely one of my favorite desserts.  I top mine with a glaze from fresh lemon juice, vanilla, and powdered sugar.

Too bad we’ve eaten it already.

It is easy to forget the simple things that bring happiness when I’m busy chasing bigger things that promise joy.

But a shady spot on cool lush grass helps me remember.

Or, reminders come while watching my daughter ponder the impossible–like fairy tea parties in secret gardens–while caught up in the magic of an impossibly grand home.

Happiness streaks down hills, too–with grass stains to prove it.

Then it collapses at the bottom, plucking blades of grass.

And Mommy practically jumped out of a moving car for a close up of a field with fleece as white as snow.  When a mama and her lamb bleated across the field to find each other among the masses and then ran to meet upon recognition–heart melted.

But you know what would have made my husband even happier that day?  If the electric fence had actually been on when I accidentally touched it, he would have been full of joy.  Of course, I touched it after I had repeatedly warned the children to be careful.

Recently we were up early one chilly morning making a road trip.  The kids ate their breakfast of peanut butter sandwiches in the car.  As my son leaned toward the heater and munched on his PB & J, he said, “Ahhh, this is the life.”

And one other experience that got me thinking:  my daughter looked at herself in the mirror and said, “I’m so glad God gave me the face that I would love!”

When was the last time I looked in the mirror and didn’t automatically start critiquing every flaw?  Or, when did I last rejoice in the deliciousness of a creamy sweet PB & J?

“Faith like a child” comes to mind but altered to “joy like a child.”  I want to experience more of the happiness that forgets failures, reputation, broken relationships–things that hinder the discovery of happiness in the simple things.

Next time, you better believe, I’m wearing shoes in which I can burn a trail down those hills.

Let’s see, it all started last Saturday when I saw a snake slithering in the creek where my kids were playing at the Biltmore Estate.  And then, within 24 hours in our yard we saw, well, the usual suspects of squirrels and the chipmunk who lives off our back patio, but also a possum, groundhog, rabbit, and a giant awesome owl in one of our oaks.  That dude swiveled his head round and round until he fixed his evil glare on us before taking flight to the yard across the street.

To top it off, a bird flew in our house and took the grand tour of the house.  Before we could shoo it out, it pooped on–of all things–the white sofa in the guest room.  Of course.

Oh, and I can’t forget the wild turkeys I almost ran over at the cottage midweek.

Gobble-gobble.

Here’s wishing you a serpent- and rodent-free weekend!

If you were to come over right now, I’d say, “You gotta come see how the kitchen is coming along!”  And, I’d pull you by the hand–after an awkwardly long hug–to the kitchen to see what Chris has done.  ”Oh, you’re just in time for pistachio cracking!  Gather round the trash can and have a few!”

Can I tell you how much I love that marble?  I stare at it throughout the day.  If you were here, you would be subjected to an hours-long monologue about the changes going on in the house, decisions yet to be made, and other earth-shattering things.  No, you can’t get a word in edgewise.

Next time I’ll take photos earlier in the day so you can see the beautiful inky blue of the cabinets.  The color combined with the hardware and the sparkly chandelier make me feel like I’m in a butler’s pantry.  (Note to self:  get a butler.)

So, I’ve decided to keep the parsons chairs and do a patterned slipcover.  This yellow one is in the running.  I’ve had the bench for almost two years–that Chris made–and have never painted or finished it.  (He made it a little taller for the kids so they don’t have to sit on their knees to reach the table.)  Now the dilemma is what to get to replace the white IKEA chairs?  Sherry and I have mulled over lots of options.  I want to keep something modern here to make sure the room doesn’t tip too traditional.  Doing another bench is an option.  I just don’t know!

Did you see that I stripped the orange paint off the table and painted the legs?  Doesn’t it always happen like this:  it’s 3 pm and I’m staring at an orange table and no one get in my way ’cause I’ve decided NOW is the time to strip and sand.  Make your own dinner.

I’m dreaming up a painting for that wall.

I just couldn’t wait for the kitchen to be finished to put up my freaking jars of beans.

We’re not neglecting the rest of the house.  There are lots of things to finish and make the house finally feel cohesive–lovely fabrics will be cherries on top.

I haven’t shown you the sofa I found last year and had recovered–after I moved the curved sofa to the dining room.  It’s a good story and lesson in reupholstery…another blog post with before shots!  Sherry motivated me to get this massive seagrass rug (17×10.5!)–that has been on my to-do list for a while.  It dramatically changed the room–even with all the furniture that needs paint and fabric.  Just another reminder to me how important layers are.

The little cane chair came from a little resale shop–just happened to be the same color as the sofa, ugh.  But I’ll paint it soon.

The space age light now hangs in the dining room.  It’s crazy and is taking some getting used to.  All my mid-century accessories were having a business meeting when I took this shot.

Grout, globe lights, and shelves will be up soon.  Stay tuned!

We’re McLovin’ it!

It had been years since I was inside a roller rink when my two older children were invited to a skating event.  But it was as if nothing had changed.  In fact, if there had been a little REO Speedwagon playing from the DJ booth, I would have sworn I was ten again.

For a sentimental girl like me, I was loving every nacho-cheese-and-dirty-foot-smelling moment back in this temple of star speckled wall-to-wall and up-the-wall carpet.

Skating parties were highlights of the year in the small private school I attended–we’re talking hook ups, friend drama, and a chance to blow everyone’s mind with your killer hokey-pokey moves.

Wham!   Debbie Gibson.  Def Leppard.  Boyz to Men.  Janet Jackson.  But it was usually an Air Supply song for couple skate.  Or, Chicago.  So while the DJ murmured into the microphone, “Couple Skate,” and started spinning “You’re the Inspiration,” there was one certain abnormally tall girl with abnormally large front teeth hoping her secret crush would ask her to skate.

Then there were the races midway through the skating party when the lights would come on and the music would stop–ugh, way to lose the magic!  But soon enough the lights would dim and Tears for Fears would start playing and I was a dancing queen once again in highwater mom jeans with Aqua Net bangs.

You put your right arm in, you put your right arm out, you put your right arm in, and you shake it all about.  You do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around.

That’s what it’s all about.