Meet Shug

Say hello to the newest member of the Johnstone-Hyatt household. This is Shug.



We're the stupidest for getting another animal. We're also stupid in love with her.

We adopted her, rather spontaneously, last Tuesday. Long story short: Ennis got sick, which took me back and forth three times to the Orange-Olive Veterinary Hospital, where in the lobby there were two cages of kittens available for adoption.

Each time I waited to see the doctor, I sat next to her cage and watched her play with the other kittens, and each time I fell a little more in love. I didn't even notice the other kittens; just her. She was special, I could tell. I couldn't ignore it.

To my astonishment, after joking about surprising him with a kitten, Jon wasn't totally against the idea. On my 3rd trip to the vet, he came along. We bought her right then and there.



One of the things that stood out about her is her syndactyly back paw. (Can you see it above in that photograph?) It's not super noticeable, but I did see it while I was getting to know her in the vet waiting room. We've since found out that she was the last remaining in her litter and a complete love-bug, but most people had passed on adopting her because of her back foot with only one little toe.

Well, it certainly didn't bother us, and more importantly, it doesn't seem to bother her at all. In fact, she's about twice as active, playful, quick, and strong as Fry was when we got him at 5 months old. (She's about 4 months old, according to the vet.)

She's the cuddliest and Ennis already gives her lots of kisses.



I would have posted about her sooner, but I didn't want to announce her until we'd settled on a name. It was actually really hard for us to decide on something, unlike with my previous animals. We went through innumerable options, taking an entire day to play around with our favorites to see if anything stuck. Many beautiful, girly, character-appropriate names came to mind (I'm a fan of naming animals after characters from literature, film, or television - see Ennis, Fry, and Peekay), but nothing felt right.

After looking through every bit of mythology we could think of, lists of constellations, most of the books and movies in our bookcase, and even getting some amazing lit-focused help from Kait, I had found many I loved, but nothing that fit our little gray girl.

Then The Color Purple came to mind (we'd already decided to get her a purple collar after originally planning to call her Leela as a companion for Fry) and I thought of Shug Avery, the assertive friend/lover of the book's heroine, Celie. We both love the movie, and I'm a big fan of the book and musical. We tested it out all day on Friday and... it worked. Sure, it's not as pretty as Katsa, Prynne, Echo, Lyra, or Petra (a few other favorites of mine after Leela), but we found it was easier to say and perfectly suited to her rambunctious attitude and imperfections. Plus, Shug is simply an amazing character. (I've been singing this song for days now.)

We're so smitten for this kitten.

Expect to see more pictures of her as time goes on. I've tried tirelessly for days to get a decent one of her with Fry, but she doesn't hold still for long. She's so, so tiny compared to him. We're excited for her to grow and for them to become best buds. Fry already plays with her and washes her face, though, I admit, he isn't completely thrilled at her presence.

Oh, animals. They're the best.


*Images property of The Sleepy Peach

A Family of Democrats Make Their Plea

Disclaimer: The below messages are not meant to be objective journalism, nor are they aimed at changing the minds of Republican voters. These words are geared toward current Obama supporters and moderates who are, perhaps, feeling a little too confident in the State of the Race, or who maybe even feel let down by the current administration.



I have an amazing family. We're normal, everyday, middle-class people without a lot of money, resources, connections, or power. We fight hard, debate hard, and love hard. I'm proud to say that, at the bottom of it all, we have huge hearts, with a sense of compassion and Grace instilled in us by my incredible mother, Lou, and father, Chuck (or "Pastor Chuck" as he is known to his Methodist congregation). I could write a book on what my parents mean to me, but it is their passion for doing what is right, what is good, and what is just that brings me here.

In two months, the United States will return to the voting booths to (hopefully) re-elect their Commander in Chief, Barack Obama. One of the things that frightens me, however, is this sense of calm that seems to have taken over many of my fellow Democrats and liberals, who view President Obama's opponent as weak and even disliked within his own Party... "Good thing Romney doesn't have a shot of winning!" they proclaim. But the threat is very, very real.

Recent polls indicate that not only does the Romney/Ryan ticket have a real chance of winning key battleground states (Ohio, Wisconsin, Virginia, New Hampshire), he is gaining momentum in Florida and, some believe, he might actually win it easily. This isn't good. You all remember what happened the last time the Republicans took Florida...

This is a plea from not only me, but from my family. We're not trying to change your minds (in all honesty, this is not a place for debate; if you are in support of a Romney/Ryan White House, then nothing anyone can say will likely change your mind)... we are, quite simply, trying to light a fire under your ass if you are feeling complacent in your support of Barack Obama. Those of you who hold the same dreams as my family need to understand:

Next January could be the beginning of a road that leads to losing many of the freedoms and rights that we all but take for granted if Romney wins this November. It could mean taking a social and civil step back two whole generations.

Friends, the call is coming from inside the house.

My father recently sent out this email to friends and family, about a week before the convention began. I'd like to share it with you here, followed by a response and call-to-action, written by my sister, Kim, which she sent to a group of her close friends. What you're reading now, is my attempt to continue spreading the word.

I know it's long, but I hope you'll take the time. No more complacency.

*  *  *  *  *



Dear family and friends ...

What can I say?! We are on the cusp of a Republican Convention where distortion and lies will dominate the speaking and an effort to turn the country back to the last administration, if not the 19th or 18th centuries, will be on full display. Women -- back in the closet! Minorities, the poor, and the elderly? Many of you can forget about those voting rights! The safety net -- you are on your own! And if you're old or soon-to-be, here's a coupon; now go find some insurance! If you are gay -- forget it, you aren't really loved by God or of any real value!

This is the most radical pair we have ever seen run for President and Vice President. They bow at the feet of corporate greed, capitalistic laissez-faire gods, and Ayn Rand. (I'm still trying to figure out how you can have Ayn Rand as your hero [heroine?] and model for your beliefs, but still be a professing Catholic? I must have missed that part of the Gospel where the rich, young ruler came to Jesus and asked, "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" and Jesus responded, "Take all of your riches and hoard them to yourself, avoid all taxes that might be used to help the unwashed masses and regard those who are poor as undeserving of God's love or yours." Which Lord does Ryan swear allegiance to?)

(I almost miss W and Cheney! You have to work hard for me to reminisce about the good old days of 2001-8 ... but we'll be longing for 'compassionate conservatism' if the R and R duo is victorious...)

I have not always been happy with the decisions, or lack of decisions, made by President Obama over the past three and a half years. Maybe you're discouraged by many things, too. But it's important to remember that there has been much accomplished in spite of every effort by the President's enemies to destroy him. Where would we be with a President McCain and Vice President Palin? I shudder to think how they would have dealt with a spiraling, out-of-control economy, a disappearing car industry, a broken health care system, Osama bin Laden, and challenges of foreign policy! I am thankful we have a President who can think, is respectful of others and a great family man, and who has assembled a team of excellent public servants (look at his Cabinet and Supreme Court choices!), despite dealing with the worst economy since the Great Depression and the most worthless Congress I've seen in my lifetime.

This modern Republican Party is obsessed with contraceptive rights and birther conspiracies, and is doing its best to hit the brakes on every move toward economic improvement -- for no other reason than that they hate Obama, his politics, his color, and the future where they see decades of progressive hopes being realized when power slips through their greedy fingers.

But... the real danger is complacency and a sense of being overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of money that the super-rich, who live for nothing but making another buck, are pouring into this campaign. Look at the cast of characters who are not just running the asylum (who seem to represent the newest version of the Republican Party... Where did my parent's Republican party go?!? I wonder...), but also those folks behind the scenes, spending unfathomable sums of their wealth to turn the levers of power over to those who will do their bidding.

If you aren't inspired by the hope that an Obama-Biden ticket can offer our future for energy independence, health care, education, the rights of women, a Supreme Court that is balanced, compassion for the poorest among us, and a sense of human decency, then maybe you can be driven by fear of what kind of country a Romney-Ryan Administration will give us: a push for criminalizing abortion even in cases of incest and rape; a push for greater defense spending at the expense of fairness in tax policy; at least one or two Supreme Court appointments in the next four years that will set the Court far Right for the next 40 years; enormous tax give-aways to the wealthy, while every budget area that helps education and student loans, health care, safety and food protection, food stamps for the poor, clean air, any energy approach that isn't big oil, continued inattention to failing infrastructure, and on and on, is cut to nearly nothing.

[...] The reporters and pundits will look at the numbers of people who contributed during this month for both campaigns, and where will we stand? As Democrats, we can't ever compete with billionaires who will spend all that they can to defeat Obama, simply because they hate him and everything he represents . Well, he represents me, and represents you.

We can still put money into supporting people whose vision and character you respect. Please, spread the word and encourage your friends and family to remember that elections have real results and consequences. Take some time to help wake them up!

I'm not going to wake up on Wednesday, November 7th and ask myself why I didn't contribute what I could to have the country that I want, or why I didn't write an email like this one to those I hope will join me to see another four years of hope, and, at the very least, a possibility for 'change' ... a change that looks ahead instead of backward.

Okay, that's enough from me. Join the Johnstone household and help donate! You can make your contribution by going here: OBAMA/BIDEN 2012

Please, encourage your family and friends to put their resources, however modest, to join you in helping keep our country and the future for our children focused on something positive, hopeful, and compassionate. Beat back against the forces of hate, ignorance and selfishness.

Blessings,

Chuck

*  *  *  *  *

Hello Friends!

While I may be getting a bit of a late start here [...] I got an email this morning from my very impassioned Father, and it's lit a much-needed fire under me to start taking action...

The election is a mere 2 months away, and I know that many of you have different beliefs and priorities for what you want to see happen within our government over the next four years... But I know, for a fact, that NONE OF YOU want to see the progress our country has made over the past 5 decades stripped away -- including women's rights, the rights of gays, lesbians, and transgendered, and that of the poor, the elderly, the young, the sick, and the struggling. And that is just the tip of the iceberg.

A Romney/Ryan triumph is a frightening prospect that many of us may not be taking too seriously. After all, Mitt Romney seemed to be such an unpopular candidate, even among his own party! Right? The idea that these two could be victorious during this coming election may seem absurd, but the truth of the matter is that many Conservatives on the Far [Far Far] Right -- driven by fear and an unfounded hatred of President Obama -- are rising up to stand alongside these two, who may have the most conservatively extreme ideals we've ever seen in a National election, and that they may pull ahead to win is a very real possibility. What stands between that and a Democratic victory is simply complacency on our part.

I entreat everyone to do what they can, inspire their friends and family to take this election seriously, and even donate to the Obama/Biden cause. I, personally, don't have a lot to give financially, but I'm still contributing a small sum. I'm also doing what's in my power to spread the word to my closest friends (you guys!), and hope you will do that same. Write your own letters of support and forward to the people in your life who may feel likewise -- or may not have decided yet at all!

For everyone who actually read this message, THANK YOU...

I love you all. OBAMA/BIDEN 2012!!

Kim

*  *  *  *  *

I sit here the day after the Democratic National Convention, and my mind is racing with different ideas, emotions, and arguments. I'm inspired by the thoughtful, well-informed, and uplifting speeches given by the DNC speakers, most notably rock star and FLOTUS, Michelle Obama; the man with the most succinct argument against the Romney/Ryan plan I've yet to hear, Maryland Representative, Chris Van Hollen; Massachusetts Senate nominee and my new favorite grandmother, Elizabeth Warren; victim-of-the-Right and all-around bad ass feminist, Sandra Fluke; screen beauty and Obama campaign supporter, Kerry Washington; former president and improvising orator, Bill "Photographic Memory" Clinton; and, of course, our Commander-in-Chief, President Barack Obama. 

Around this time every four years, since 1992—when my father held our first election party for Bill Clinton who was running for President against George H.W. Bush (I realized that same night how much I loved to eat black olives off my fingertips; I was 6-years-old)—I start to feel this same level of anxiety. This anxiety does not stem from an irrational "end of the world" fear. Please; we're all adults here. Sure, it can feel like that (especially this year, when our civil liberties find themselves hanging by a thread), but realistically I know that no matter who is president, God willing, I'll survive to see another election. Most of us will survive, no matter whose politics you support.

But I remember the disappointment of 2000, when I had to cross out a blue Florida on our giant color map (it was my job that year to color in which party won which state), upon hearing that it was actually "too close to call," then waiting for hours (days!) only to find out that Florida would not return to blue... I remember 2004, sitting alone in darkness of my freshman dorm room, my Republican roommate already sleeping soundly, as I refreshed, refreshed, refreshed the election results on my laptop, only to find out that yes, we would be getting four more years of President Bush.

And then came 2008. I was older, I was more informed, and I was passionate about this presidential nominee. Barack Obama had inspired me, as he did millions of others. I saw a young Robert F. Kennedy in him, as I still do today—a big heart, with smart plans and a smart team, and good intentions that will make an enormous difference in history. Planning for this election party was a blast; there were Michelle Obama's shortbread cookies, deep dish Chicago pizza, and Chicago-style hotdogs... My father had spent countless hours volunteering and making phone calls; he had donated significant amounts of money to Obama's campaign—easily more than he really could have afforded.

The joy that erupted in our house that night, which was full of 20 friends and family members, when CNN announced an Obama/Biden victory is, honestly, one of the most memorable moments thus far in my adult life. Why? Because it had all mattered so, so much to my family; as active supporters, we felt as if we'd earned that victory.

Every election has taught me something very valuable: You have to invest in the things that matter to you. It doesn't happen on its own, it doesn't happen over night, and it certainly doesn't come for free.

This is me and my family asking you to step up; to get fired up and ready to go.

Don't wait. This matters. It all matters. No matter the candidate you support, if what happens in this country matters to you, then invest. Just like how we must invest in our economy to create the world we want, so must we invest in our leaders.

If you managed to read this far, thank you.

See you on election day.



Psst... Once again, you can donate here!

*Image sources: 1. Pet Lovers for Obama Facebook Page; 2. Etsy shop, Amanda Kindregan; 3 & 4. Barack Obama Facebook page; 4. Zimbio 'European Best Pictures of the Day - Sept 6 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

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

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

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

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.

Style by Emily Henderson

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:

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: