Wednesday, August 29, 2012

It Always Happens This Way



Every year, the end of summer brings with it a uniquely familiar laziness; a heavy sleep and slow pace brought on by too many heat-stricken days. Our senses remember this annual dance as we unconsciously adapt—physically, mentally, emotionally—to the next phase. The year begins, always, with the weary exposition of a frigid winter, encouraging us to move with anxious feet through the refreshing rhythm of bright spring mornings and bursts of color in rebirth. We're fully awake now, which means that the journey can really begin. The livelihood of summer is paved with unstructured activity and anticipated busyness, always pulling, never ceasing. Then, as promised, the heightened energies of summer build to their inevitable climax, sending us full of tired relief into the denouement of cooler, welcomed, autumn nights.

Our internal watch keeps accurate time; it knows the signs of passing seasons, made obvious by changes in weather and light and smells in the air. No matter the difference in our lives from year to year, this friendly, built-in timeline remains constant. It is a comfort.

The calendar may not say so, but summer is drawing to a close. That is, the "summer" that lasts from mid-June to Labor Day and is full of neighborhood adventures, chlorine-soaked hair, and afternoons spent napping on the living room sofa.



In those days and weeks before school begins, as the high of summer is beckoned back to its den, we take every opportunity we can to blissfully doze through unhurried reading sessions... no matter how old we are. It helps not to have a job, of course. Ah, to be in school again...

It is my favorite time of year, the weeks when summer turns to autumn. This week marks the first part of that phase, and it is now that nostalgia has the strongest hold on me—when I lose myself in daydreams and mental bursts of images, moments, smells, and sounds from the past. There is a strange masochism that comes with cherished memories of being young... of being someone so incomplete.

Though it's been years since I've experienced the transition from unbridled childhood freedom to regimented responsibility, my body doesn't forget. It might explain why these recent busy weeks of work have left me drained and aching for those last days of rest, some calm before the scholastic storm. Yes, my work will continue as it has been; the approaching autumn will not alter my routine.

I will sit at my desk and plug away from 8-5 in the comfort of my home. I will cook dinners and share drinks with my love, feeling old but happy in our insistence to stay in and watch movies, escaping to Tara, the Australian Outback, or the prison cells of England. I will explore this world and decorate my life with limited funds.

I will play with, laugh at, and love my dog for reminding me what it feels like to be unconditionally adored.



Still... all the while I will remember the soccer practices under cloud kingdoms and the distinct smell of childhood autumn, where the scent of wet grass and dry leaves meet. I'll remember the first days in a new desk at the start of a new school year, and the amnesia that comes from a summer of abandon: children who were once so anxious to leave the classroom always return with a joy and passion for new-found knowledge... and school supplies.

Autumn approaches and I once again get this way. Nostalgic, full of longing yet comforted by contentment. Perhaps I'll write about it every year, just one more cog in the clockwork of seasons. Perhaps I'll write about it every year to try and capture the complex feelings and memories linked to summer's end. Perhaps I'll write about it every year until I get it right.


*Images property of The Sleepy Peach

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

I Bought Things

Remember what I said last week about being patient? Turns out, I'm terrible at being patient. Surprise!

On a whim, Jonathan and I went to the Long Beach Antique Market this past Sunday, thinking maybe we'd find some mid-century furniture, specifically: round kitchen table with four chairs and/or a large round coffee table.

We got up at 6:30AM and headed out shortly after. This antique market happens once per month (3rd Sunday) and takes up 20 full acres of a parking lot adjacent to the Veteran's Memorial Stadium. If I didn't go there knowing exactly what I wanted, I might have had an aneurysm from over-stimulation.

Oh, and, you know, egregious humidity and heat might have been a factor, too. It was easily in the mid-90's by 10AM, and it didn't help that I was speed walking through the market in search of what I knew must be there: the perfect dining set. (Remember: I'm a grown up now.)

In addition to loads of furniture, there was, well, everything else you could imagine. Here, I took some pictures.









It was a blast looking around at everything. Even though I was on strict orders (from myself) not to buy anything unless it was what I was searching for specifically, it made me eager to go back again next month, and then maybe every month after that. Some things (like the original wood/metal/light art) were well beyond my price range, while other things were practically being given away. Whatever vintage or antique sort of item you might be searching for, chances are, you could find it here.

These pictures are the tip of the market iceberg. I'm excited to go back and explore some more, when it's about 20 degrees cooler.

So, while we didn't find a coffee table like we'd hoped, we certainly didn't come home empty-handed. Impatient though I may be, I think it might have paid off this time.



Because I'm in love. I saw it, and I knew we'd found the right set. It's a teak table and chairs, with a sleek mid-century modern aesthetic. It's in need of some serious lovin' (degreasing, sanding, staining, re-upholstery, etc.), which is where a few designated weekends with Shane will come in very handy.

It wasn't cheap; it came to $400, after originally being told $500, but I gave him the ol' "Hmm, interesting," and then turned to Jon: "Do I really want the table too, honey?" In all honesty, though, it was a steal. I've been looking for a table and chairs just like or comparable to this for about nine months now, and a single refinished set of 4 chairs could easily run $750 on its own! With another $100 of elbow grease and DIY care, we'll have this baby sparkling!

I'm thinking... herringbone fabric on the seats, maybe?



Yes. We're really, really happy with this purchase despite the unplanned-for attack on my bank account.

Oh, and speaking of purchases! Look what arrived in the mail yesterday...



If the table and chairs didn't send me closer to bankruptcy, this sure did the trick!

Bankruptcy never looked or felt so good!



What we have here are technically two items, not just one. The first is a cushy, 8'x11' non-skid rug pad. It is an absolute necessity on my super-slick laminate floors.

Next, is the pièce de résistance: an 8'6"x11'6" Moroccan style trellis rug made of 100% wool. I found this beauty (and the rug pad) on Overstock.com and I could not be happier.

I started looking for an enormous rug as soon as we moved in. We identified within a few hours that a rug was going to be our first major purchase after the bookcases. Aside from hating how big and drab the room looked without something to ground it (literally), functionally we needed one. Ennis and Fry were sliding around like idiots, and it just wasn't practical to have so much open, slippery floor.

This one stood out immediately, and the price was right, too: only $453.99 for an enormous, thick, wool rug. After thinking about it for a few days, I went back and saw that it was an additional 15% off due to a promotional back-to-school sale. I bought it immediately, for the cool price of $372.70 (just over $81 off). Again: a steal, especially for the quality.

It kind of speaks for itself.


Please excuse the dog/cat fur blanketing our chaise. We keep it real around here.

Jon was a trooper and trusted my instincts on this one.

The challenge was to find something that could match our steel blue couch, orange lounger, and green/brown/orange recliner all at once without bringing more orange into the mix. (We're officially oranged-out. No offense, Fry.) It couldn't be very dark, either, because we wanted to add more light to the ground, not force the light to the gargantuan ceilings. I also hoped to get a pattern, but not one that would conflict visually with my beloved recliner.

It also needed to be cushy. Luckily, I had two helpers who were more than happy to test its cushiness out for me. An Ennis v. Fry wrestling match was underway within 10 minutes of the rug being put down.


Needless to say, I'm thrilled that they're thrilled.

And Fry is thrilled that it's almost lunchtime.



* All images property of The Sleepy Peach

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

In Case of Fire

I found out something pretty fucking awesome today, you guys. So awesome, in fact, that I've resorted to swearing right at you.

OK, first: some background.

About a year ago, I stumbled across a post on Apartment Therapy's green sister-blog, Re-Nest, that asked "If your house was burning down, what would you save?"  The article led me to a blog created by West Coast-based photographer, Foster Huntington, called The Burning House, where people take a picture of the items they would save if faced with a catastrophic event (specifically: fire) that would likely destroy everything in its wake. They could then submit their photo and a blurb about the items, to perhaps be featured on the site.

Immediately, I knew I wanted to participate.  This is a question that Jon and I are constantly asking ourselves whenever we're sitting comfortably on our sofa, complacent with life, and looking around the room at all the crap we've acquired.  When we first thought about it, we recognized that there are a lot of things we love around our house and would absolutely rejoice in being able to salvage if everything else got destroyed (i.e. a large portion of our book collection, certain DVDs, necessary items of clothing like boots and underwear and pants, my beautiful armchair, blah blah)... but then, after giving it more thought, it was amazing the things we wouldn't hesitate to leave behind.

While assessing the items I would truly grab in a moments notice, I tried to keep an amazing entry by Sandra Belanger (she has experienced a house fire before) in mind, when she wrote: Word to all the folks with big piles of stuff: You have way less time than you think.

Cut to now. I actually took a photo right after hearing about this project last year, with just the things I was responsible for grabbing; I had plans to take pictures of Jon's items at another time... a time that never really came, because I'm terrible at follow-through. The plan was that he'd grab the cat, some more artwork, and other things personal to him. This means that Fry wasn't part of my picture, but Ennis and Peekay were.

I submitted my picture to The Burning House blog without worrying about Jon's things. I checked every so often, wondering if my picture had made it on. I never saw it. Then I stopped thinking about it.

Now we've moved, things have changed, Peekay is no longer living with us, and the picture that I took way back in May of last year, well... I'd decided that I didn't like the picture very much at all. The angle was off, the items were placed strangely, giving it a weird perspective. The blog post I had started in May of 2011 would be scrapped. "I'll take another picture—a better picture!—and rewrite the whole post," I declared. "I'll save less stuff, this time, too! Who needs all this stuff?"

Well. I started to compile everything again; just the stuff I really would try to save. I took a few snapshots (none very good, wahh wahh), then returned to look at my original picture.

Turns out, with the exception of Peekay and the addition of Fry, nothing was different. All of the same items were there.

Then I decided to return to The Burning House blog and get inspiration from the other photos.

I scanned through, admiring the photographs, admiring people's descriptions.

I noticed something: a book. Foster Huntington had published a book, released just last month, of pictures from his site.

Clicking on the link, I went to Amazon and started looking at the book.

I flipped through the "Look Inside" pages.

Click, click, click.

Then,

there it was:




My photograph. The very photograph I had submitted over a year ago, which was never featured on Foster's blog. My name, my dogs, my journals, Jon's artwork, Cassie's mosaic, my [old but still works] blog link... All was there, published, in a TWO. PAGE. SPREAD.

I about pooped my pants. Then I bought the book immediately.

After further research, I discovered that mine is one of 50 "exclusive" entries saved for the book. Why? I wonder.

Foster! If you're out there - contact me! Did you try to contact me? I am a lost soul.

Oy.

Well.

I can't change my picture now!

So, as I should have done over a year ago instead of being a stupid, arrogant, photo jerk, here is my entry just as I submitted it then:



List:
  • Passport
  • Original birth certificate
  • ID
  • Wallet
  • 5 hand-written journals
  • Brown bomber jacket from Paris
  • TOMS shoes (or whatever slip-ons were closest to the door)
  • Yellow and black heart painting from my boyfriend
  • "Kicking Puppies" - original Justin Hillgrove watercolor
  • "Blue Elephant" mosaic - handmade from scrap glass and a wine bottle by my best friend
  • Cellphone 
  • Old Chimney Farm canvas bag to carry everything
  • Crocheted quilt that my mom made for my grandmother
  • My dogs, Peekay and Ennis

Substitute "Peekay" for "Fry" and you've got basically what I would save now.

SO TELL ME!

All of you.

I want to know: What would you save? If you have a blog, post about it with a picture and link to it in the comments!



*Image property of The Burning House Blog and The Sleepy Peach

    Monday, August 20, 2012

    Anatomy of a Morning

    Monday, written in a haze with heavy eyes and a peaceful heart.


    It's stupid hot and humid here. Were it not for the cool whirring of the fan placed squarely in my direction from the foot of the bed, I would certainly have devolved into a goop-y, gelatinous blob during the night.

    Ennis needs to be let out; he's asking me politely, but I ignore him. Every so often I'm startled back awake with the help of a little wet-nose poke on my arm. It's five o'clock and I want to be a good mom. But I'm not a good mom. I roll over one, two, three times more, and each time the fan hits me somewhere different on my body. It's so nice. I forget about Ennis.

    Six o'clock, I hear his whines again. Maybe I'm a better mom than I was an hour ago? Yep, turns out I am. I roll out of bed the way little kids barrel roll down a grassy hill. Somehow I find yesterday's dress and something for my feet, then I walk outside. I don't open my eyes once.

    Back inside, Fry is crying for food, but his cries do not distract me from my mission: back to bed, back to the soothing breeze of my fan. Ennis is satisfied, for the moment, and curls up between my feet. Fry joins us, pressing his furry orange face against mine and curling up to share my pillow with me. I kiss his little nose and then remember the giant cockroach he picked up and carried around in his mouth last night. It's the first time I've seen a cockroach anywhere I've ever lived. I am disgusted that it won't be the last. (Humidity and heat, and we just can't do anything about our dog bowl full of fresh water. Lovely.)

    Fry grabs my arm with his paws and licks my hand. I remember how he spent the entire evening prowling, saddened and confused as to why we took his new friend/meal away from him.

    I hate him for eating bugs. I love him for hunting them down and killing them.

    I forgive him. He's so cute. We cuddle.

    7 o'clock. It's time for work, but I'm haggard and drowsy. Fry has moved to his dreary-eyed daddy now; Ennis is gone. I pull my computer out from under my night stand and get started, eyes barely open. I hurriedly finish two projects, sending out emails one, two, three, ticking them off my mental check-list, and then place my head back on my pillow.

    I'm suddenly mad at Jon for not having prepped coffee the night before. I'm terrible at making it, and he knows it. I roll over again, accepting that without a pot of coffee waiting, there's no reason to get up.

    I sleep. I am fanned by a cool manufactured breeze. I need much, much more time.

    9 o'clock. I am forcing myself awake.

    It's Jonathan's first day of school. I kiss him good morning. I ask if he'd like me to take a picture of him with his fancy, graduate school book bag. He says maybe later.

    I tell him to make me coffee, since he knows I'm awful at it. Turns out, he did prep it the night before. I count my blessings, congratulate him on being a jerk, and begin my day.

    I think it's going to be a beautiful day.


    *Image: Morning Light on Bed by photographer Valeria Heine

    Wednesday, August 15, 2012

    I Guess I'm a Grown Up

    Andy Gilmore, 10-10-12 (rotated)

    I've got the design bug again, big time. Starting fresh in a clean, empty apartment has been inspiring, and I'm feeling confident in the decor-direction our new home is headed. Right now I'm set up working in the kitchen, which has been a necessity in this tropically humid heat (thank you, lone ceiling fan!), but it also gives me a panoramic view of the main living area... and I want to work on it. All day, every day, until it is the exact thing that I (ahem, we) want.

    I remember moving into my first apartment after college, with my dear friend, word wrangler, and blogger-in-crime, Kait. We didn't have much money (OK, I had no money at all, and she was on a very tight budget), so we had the typical hodge-podge of acquired Craigslist items and hand-me-down furniture. We couldn't afford to be picky. This meant that whatever large piece of artwork we could find for {super} cheap on Craigslist, love it or no, that's what we'd get to place over our couch. Whatever we could find that was comfortable to sit around on, we'd lug it home in my station wagon and do our best to set it up like we'd spent $500 on lounge chairs instead of just $75.

    Considering our limitations, I think we did an admirable job.

    I was taking a little Home Staging course at the time, which helped me discover the kind of design that reflects who I am and what I love. It's this course that made me realize my sensibilities are not in the "designer" realm; I do not consider myself skilled at all on that level. Rather, I think of myself as more of a "stager": I've learned to work with what I have in the space that I'm given.

    Since then, I've learned so, so much. This is my 3rd apartment that I consider "mine," and the fun part is, I have a partner who shares my interest in making a home look beautiful. This time, I'm not stuck in an empty apartment where I'm desperate for basic necessities and therefore buy whatever cheap thing I can find that'll be "good enough until I can afford something better." Now, I'm able to invest some good chunks of money in quality pieces that I actually like.

    No. Love.

    That's not to say I don't buy things that are inexpensive. On the contrary, IKEA and I are still super tight (though I'm trying to avoid getting everything from there), and I'm not one to turn my nose up at free things or cease my daily shopping rounds on Craigslist.

    The point is, I know what I want now. I know what I'm drawn to, and I'm willing to wait until I can get it, whether that means checking on Craigslist every day or saving up to invest in a quality piece. I won't buy art just to put on the wall, and I won't buy a piece of furniture just 'cause we need someplace to store our liquor.

    Now that we've found an apartment that we intend to stay in for at least two years (if not more) is that we have time. There's no rush, and that's a pleasant feeling. For the first time, I'm not stressed out or embarrassed that my home doesn't look perfect. I'm not worried about what other people will think about me and my design choices.

    I guess this is what it feels like to be a grown up.

    I'll take it.



    So what am I loving right now?

    Bold prints, color, clean lines, wood, mid-century chairs, cozy furniture, giant libraries, outer space, geometric designs, plants, little vignettes, perfectly placed artwork, typography, anything with herringbone, and unusual combinations.

    Before starting our move, I was already on the hunt for specific items that I knew for certain I wanted, eventually, to be part of my home. One of these big items is a round Mid-Century/Danish Modern dining table with four chairs. Pretty much this exact set from Apartment Therapy a while back. I've pretty much driven myself crazy by trying to figure out how and where I will acquire the perfect dining room.

    Patience is a virtue. I think.

    I've probably lost most of you by now, but if you're still with me, I'd love to hear about what you're coveting for your house. Or do you have absolutely no interest in any of this and think it's all boring bullshit?

    I anxiously await your thoughts. In the meantime, here's a sexy-ass picture of the Orion Nebula that I have framed and will eventually hang above my office desk:

    Thursday, August 9, 2012

    Peekay



    I want to avoid this sounding or looking like a eulogy of some kind, so I'll start by saying this: Peekay, our Australian Shepherd, is not dead or gone or anything close to that sort of thing. He is alive and wonderfully cute, healthy, and sheddy.

    That being said, with Jon, Ennis, Fry, and myself moving down to Orange last week, we were short one member of our family in the form of Peekay da Dog. We chose to have Peekay stay behind with my parents... who are now, officially, his parents too. This is a discussion we had one hundred times since leaving Seattle and one that we have not taken lightly. The reason I'm sharing this with you here is because you would undoubtedly notice the absence of our third, furry child in subsequent picture-posts about me hanging out with our animals, since that's pretty much how I spend my time.

    The fact is, Peekay is a part of our family and that will never change. If it were impossible for my parents to take him with enthusiastic and open arms, he would be coming with us, no question; he would never be "given up" under any circumstances, and I'm trying to not think of this decision as equating to that. This is one of those situations that I feel every life-long pet owner will likely face sooner or later. It's not a matter of asking, "Do we really want this animal living with us?" but rather: "Is living with us really what's going to make this animal happy and healthy?"

    The answer to that, for us, in Peekay's case, was simple: No. He would absolutely be happier and healthier staying in Livermore with my parents and their dog, Maggie, my parent's mini-Aussie.

    So the decision has many parts, starting with an obvious one: our new apartment only allows two animals. This could have been worked around; we've kept a cat hidden in our apartment before. Jon wasn't thrilled about having a stowaway again, but we accepted that it'd be fine in order to keep us all together.

    Then, a few months ago, there was an unexpected development in the form of a sudden and quite confusing hatred between Peekay and our cat, Fry... and, weirdly, it's a hatred that is only present about half the time. (The other 50% of their lives were relatively amicable, though certainly not loving.) We're not sure who started what, but it's obvious that Peekay lives in fear of Fry on an almost constant basis. Fry loves everyone, including Ennis and Maggie, but every once in a while he chases Peekay down, swatting and clawing and spitting at him, and, unfortunately, on more than one occasion, Peekay has fought back.

    We don't place blame on either one of them (OK, I'm lying: it's Fry's fault), but the fact is, Peekay is scared and that makes me very sad. Since it is not an "every time they see each other" kind of thing, it was really hard to diagnose; we couldn't figure out how to train the fear out of Peekay, and we certainly didn't harbor any illusions that Fry's bitchy attitude could be removed. (Please. He's a cat.)

    In the end, our decision is what it is. It was about the realization that with my parents, Peekay would get the full attention he deserved rather than constantly competing with two additional affection-hungry animals. They can provide him the space necessary for a larger dog who loves to run and jump and lounge in the garden outside. Plus, he and Maggie get along swimmingly, and I'm certain that he will thrive without Ennis' high-anxiety barking fits.

    A calm and quiet environment will do wonders for him, and I know it's a better fit in the long term.

    Now that we're down here, though, I'm realizing it's going to be much harder than I thought. It also seems to be harder on Ennis than I anticipated. He's had a constant doggie companion for two and a half years. He loves Fry (they're best friends), but Peekay is his brother. Maybe it's just me transferring my feelings onto Ennis, but there you have it.

    I miss Peekay. I miss him a whole hellova lot. Last night was the first time ever, actually, where I realized that Ennis just couldn't give me the kind of love and affection that Peekay could, and I wished Peekay were the one sitting with me instead of Ennis. Anyone who knows me and my relationship with him will tell you that this is surprising, since my little brown boober is the most important non-human creature of my entire life. But there is just this constant desire in Peekay to be near others—anyone, really—so when you're in need of some unadulterated and unconditional love, there just isn't another dog that can deliver that like Peekay does.

    Ugh.

    With the hopes of not ending this like the Debbie Effing Downer that I apparently am, here are two crummy-but-cute camera snapshots of Peekay, one with a brain slug on his head and one where he's yawning/singing for a metal band:


    And lastly, here is the first picture we ever took of our three furry kids together:

    Wednesday, August 8, 2012

    Big Move, Little Apartment Tour

    It's been almost a month since I last updated, and I actually have several half-written posts that are pending (including a lengthy one about my trip to New York), but I am jumping this to the head of the line, because, well...



    WE MOVED. Jonathan and I are officially residents of Orange, CA. After nine months of living with my parents to save money and plan the next chapter of our lives (with Jon as a full-time grad student and me as a work-from-home 20-something), we spent the weekend getting settled into our new apartment, and we're absolutely, out-of-our-minds exhausted. It's been a very long week.

    Despite its many flaws, we love love love our apartment. I'm excited to have my own space to decorate again; a place that is filled with only our furniture, our trinkets, our books, and our food. I'm thrilled to have our books and DVDs finally out of boxes. They are the most beautiful artwork we own.



    We'll be getting height extensions and an extra shelf or two sometime this week. Luckily, we have the space and the books/DVDs to fill it.



    Our ceiling in the main living area slopes, and is approximately 15 feet high on one wall. We've discovered that it isn't easy to keep that room cool, but it makes for an open, light-filled room with loads of potential.

    Also, Ennis seems pretty happy so far.





    There's a lot of work to do, which is rather exciting. My mind is already racing with the kinds of lamps we can get to make a bigger impact in our living room; what sort of original art we can create to fill the rectangle of wall above the couch; how I will manage to find the perfect rug (i.e. huge, but still affordable); how to incorporate a functional bar area; whether we can find and install an over-sized pendant lamp to balance out the room...

    All that will come, in time. Dreaming about it is lots of fun, though.

    About a month ago, after coming down and taking some measurements, I had some fun playing around with the floor plan of the main living area. Some color/design elements not-withstanding, it's a pretty accurate look of what we're (okay, I'm) aiming for in terms of layout and aesthetic...


    Luckily, we've already got a good foundation; we came to this apartment with most of the basic furniture necessities, so we're in no rush to buy/make a ton of new things. As I mentioned back when we found our apartment, we've got 2 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms, plus a separate dining area; there is plenty of square footage to store rogue boxes with items that don't have homes. We're not going to be stuck spending loads of time in a room that isn't functional. Our second bedroom will be an office/guestroom. For now, though, save for a single bed, there isn't much going on in here but lots and lots of crap.



    Plus, we need somewhere to store all our wine, beer, and booze until we can get a liquor cabinet!

    We also have some great artwork (large and small), still lingering in closed boxes or leaning up against walls and furniture. I just can't bring myself to tackle that project yet. I've always been frustrated with empty walls, and in the past thrown up whatever I had when I just couldn't take it any more. My new plan is to practice patience; there is no rush; my walls can survive without color for a few weeks.

    Eventually, I will be pulling out all of our favorite pieces and designate them to the appropriate rooms and walls. I'll keep you updated on what we decide, and in some cases, how we'll even manage it. (Does anyone have any tips on how to hang frames that are really, really heavy? I'm skeered.)


    Our bedroom is actually one of my favorite places in the apartment. After several pint-sized bedrooms in my various Seattle apartments, it's strange to have an actual "master" bedroom and bathroom. There's so much space to walk around, but it still feels cozy and intimate.


    Our kitchen is both small and big; we don't have a lot of counter to work with, but at the same time there is room to move around, come in and out; we can actually cook together comfortably, which is a nice change. Also, the white cabinets make it feel nice and bright.



    And while the dining room has become my interim office, I'm excited to invest in some quality chairs and eventually a solid wood table. (I've been on the hunt for Danish/Mid-Century Modern dining chairs that don't cost $1000 for months—a seemingly impossible task. And what do you think... a round table, eventually?)

    Until then, I'm happy to leave it a blank slate.



    Then, there's our balcony. An actual outdoor area for us to call our own. It's not much yet (just a few plants that made the move with us from Livermore), but I cannot wait to put a stamp out here as well. I'm pretty sure it's going to involve some plant table building sessions with Shane.


    Can you tell I'm a little excited to decorate?

    Yes, it's true, the apartment doesn't look like much now, but even in all the chaos, we've set up little happy vignettes where we could—including this wonderful one with a Virgen de Guadalupe candle that I just had to buy in honor of my dearest friend, Jessie. (It will henceforth be known as my "hurricane light"... or maybe "earthquake light" would be more accurate since there have been three over 4.0 since I've been here?) And what's a better companion to Catholicism than R2-D2?


    It's the little things.

    Moving is a tough thing for me. I'm just not good at it. Part of it is because I'm a bossy control freak and horrible to be around. The other part is probably that in the last eight years, I've moved about 10 times. Aside from those summers in college where I returned to my parent's house for two months, this is the 10th place I've lived.

    This time feels different. Baring something bad happening, this'll be the first apartment I've lived in where I'll likely be here for more than a year and a half. The knowledge that these 2 bedrooms, 2 baths, open living room, tiny dining room, and galley kitchen will be my home for the foreseeable future—not just an "okay place until I find something better"—makes me want to put the time, thought, and effort into creating exactly what we want.

    It's a relief, and it's a nice change of pace for me.

    If I'm productive/responsible/on top of things, I'll be tracking all the fun changes here. I mean, maybe, if you guys are really nice. Like I said, it's been a long week.