Archive for March, 2011


Maybe I will hem this curtain and install it properly so that I don’t have to spend my evenings staring directly into my neighbors’ living room (they’d probably appreciate it if I did).

Maybe I will put wainscoting in the kitchen. As the above comment reveals, this is the view from the couch. It would be better if it looked less awful, and the wainscoting seems like it helps to blend the kitchen together (which now just seems like a bunch of walls with kitchen-y things on them—appliances all on one side, cabinets on the other, nothing to link it together).

Maybe I will finally get around to dealing with the remaining kitchen renovations. Adding newer, less-ugly things in the kitchen only makes me realize all over again just how much I hate those peach and blue tiles.

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I got a new camera.

I made granola, which made me think of my dear friend jellyspoon and her lovely mother. I love this bowl, one of a set of three that Ricky gave me years ago. They’re from Anthropologie, so I knew that they had cost too much. I was hesitant to keep them, but I’m glad that I did. Using them makes me happy. Ricky and I tend to fight over the green one, which has a small frog painted in the bottom. I even kind of like that the red one (bird at the bottom) has a small chip in the side—this is somewhat shocking, given my perfectionist tendencies. But I like the chip because it reminds me of how much use—and pleasure—I get out of these gifts. I like them even better than their predecessors, a set of pastel-hued “Easter Egg” bowls from Pottery Barn that had a tendency of exploding in the microwave (ahem).

Look at the high-quality cat pictures I can take now! Ricky says that looking into Keats’ eyes is like looking into the eyes of insanity. Unfortunately, it’s hard to capture the true effect because his irises move rapidly when he’s looking at you. Apparently, this is a breed-specific characteristic that made my vet think that Keats is a fancy show cat. In reality, he’s a (formerly) wormy barn cat. Now he’s a Pottery Barn cat (I saw a cartoon of a fat cat sitting on the back of a couch with that caption, years ago–maybe in The New Yorker?).

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Please excuse my month-long silence. As many of you probably know, things have been a bit hectic in Madison lately.

But, leaving that issue aside, let’s focus on an even more controversial question: pets in the bedroom.

I am not a fan of sharing my sleeping space with pets. I love my cats, but they are gross. And noisy. And one time, they had tapeworms. Let’s leave it at that.

Of course, my unwillingness to share my bed with them has only increased their desire to gain entry into the forbidden room: a room made all the more tempting by poisonous houseplants and a hooked wool rug that apparently is quite delicious to scratch.

Speaking of my poor rug, it kind of clashes with everything—including this quilt. Clashy is kind of fine, but not that restful. I’ve been reworking the bedroom over spring break (that’s why it looks so bare here). Lamps are a problem. This estate-sale ginger jar lamp is ok, but it actually belongs in the living room (which is too dark without it, and which is better suited to the scale of it).  I used to have a pair of lamps that I liked in here, but then I broke one. Usually, I’m not that into matchy-matchy, but the lack of matching furniture in this room makes me think that symmetrical lamps might lend some balance. Another bedside table would be nice, too—that dark space to the left of the bed is actually a large wooden box full of sweaters, which means that nothing can actually stay on the surface. I’ve been stuck on that issue for years, though, since there’s no chance of matching my antique lamp table—bought years ago at a Florida antiques auction and hauled back in my mom’s Jetta.

Unfortunately, I kind of hate all lamps. And nightstands. But I made some changes. And I bought another plant, because clearly, I needed it.

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