soaking it up

We're expecting our first tiny human in June and I know I can't begin to fathom what that love will feel like, what that little sleep will feel like, and of course I struggle with the fear "What kind of mother will I be?"

I know I've got the love, but what about the patience and the survival instinct to live through the exhaustion? I'm no spring chicken (I'm no chicken at all). I'm not exactly ancient, but I'm not 22 when I used to sleep only a couple of hours a night and still have a productive day.

It's easy to get overwhelmed. By reading options, by the future, by life. Even by the Pup who suddenly needs a whole lot of attention (or the same amount as last week but it feeeeeels like so much more).
I have been reading everything I can get my hands on, and most of it has nothing in common with anything else. But I'm trying to soak it all up, absorb knowledge through every pore.

I jump from page to page, the internet spreading out before me offering information on every possible subject. I have found myself pondering computer-generated photos of tiny animals in the womb, an Iraqi orphan curled up on a chalk outline of her mother (I am skeptical that she drew it herself, but it's awfully sweet), a friend's blog with beautiful photos of life with new baby and a two year old. And then I realize all of my random web surfing all does sort of relate. Tinies in one form or another; new to the world, new to us. There's so much to learn! So much to read!

I think it's a bit like trying to take in the whole picture instead of focusing on the little moments that make up a day. I am reading a book called Momma Zen, and I have decided I would like to view things like the author does: Don't have expectations. Or if you do, know that anything and everything can change and you have to roll with that, too. And it is exactly how it should be.

In the last few days I have felt something in there - little movements that I have to focus on to feel and even then they are elusive. We heard a heartbeat on the doppler, we saw a little being on the ultrasound. This is happening.

It's not as we expected (much sooner, much easier) but it's been perfect in it's surprising little way. Excitement, nervousness, wonder, and a sort of foggy bliss that we ride in waves. So much to prepare. So much to be thankful for. And so much to love.



photo courtesy of houseandleisure.co.za

the deep

I thought, "Sure, I'll post updates weekly as we renovate. We can share before and after and during photos and laugh and hang out and chat about our remodel adventure."

That was before, when we had free time and friends. When we cooked at home and vacuumed. When we could find time for movies and reading, laundry and grocery shopping.

Now we're nearly five months in, demolition is over, we've excavated and resealed the foundation (nearly done with backfilling). We're in the midst of wiring outlets and lights. I insulated the water pipes over the weekend, we have a new porch. And we haven't seen our friends in months (not totally literally, but just about literally). One friend even said, "Oh no, you don't understand. You won't see them [meaning us] unless you go to The House to see them." And they're right. We're completely consumed. Every detail needs a decision, a measurement, a product ordered.

There's no time for photos, for updates, for reminiscing or pondering just where that pretty painting will go. There are only decisions and labor. Manual labor. I remember the day I said, "That's the one thing I don't do: Dig." One week later I was covered in dirt, my hands had actual digging callouses, and I had sealing tar in my hair as I sat at the bottom of a 6 foot trench wrapping a footing drain.

Adam told the neighbors as they walked by, "We're building a moat!"

We are exhausted. Working 15+ hours a day, seven days a week, and it has been months now. Everyone (I mean it) says, "Oh, I know, it's hard but it's totally worth it, right?" And we smile and say, "Yes yes yes" whilst growling inside and wondering when the end result will happen. We're not to the "It was hard, but it was totally worth it" zone. It's just hard, and stressful, and we have no idea if what we've conceived as the perfect, adorable, cozy, inviting place will be what we pictured as Home.

But really, we love it. The house will be wonderful. It will be ours, exactly as we designed it after 37+ floor plans and countless revisions and questions.

This took me two days to write, and I'm sorry but there are no photos of the house. Just a photo of us in Scotland in August, when we had a full week to ourselves poking around in castles. Before we were in so deep. Before I became a champion digger. Or at least before I picked up a shovel.

floor plans

It's not every day you look around at 20 houses or so and pick the one that is not inhabitable. It may have a huge yard and loads of potential, it may even have a garage and a full basement. But it does not have safe floors, there are pieces missing, and there is rot. Also, someone decided it would be fun to see how much water a basement can hold.

Truth be told, this isn't our first rodeo. We've successfully moved into two old, dirty, paint-flaky, stinky houses that had lots of potential that we were willing to paint, clean, deodorize and live in. And we did paint, clean, deodorize and live in them, and they turned out great. Nice, even. We just haven't bought one before.

As it turns out we kinda like this sort of thing, and here we are on the verge of something a little bit crazy. We have no idea (really) what we're getting ourselves into. Neither one of us are carpenters (or plumbers or smithies or window replacers or basement fixer-uppers). We've never sanded our own wood floors or tried to replace a door frame. We've painted (a lot) and we have drawn up 37+ floor plans and even created them in SolidWorks in 3D. We've studied hundreds of kitchens and bathrooms and asked questions and put the kitchen where the bathroom is and the bedroom where the other bedroom was.

And we've signed papers. Lots and lots of papers. And it's nearly ours (but not quite yet).

You know what that means: You're about to the join the adventure, too. Because I have a feeling I won't be able to hold back when I get oh-so-excited about finding a salvaged glass door knob to fit the pint-size door upstairs, and I know I'll probably go hog-wild when things get too crazy and the total bill is waaaay more than we expected (it always is).

But  it's nearly ours.

And we have help.




Pretty kitchen photo courtesy of House Beautiful, the others: that's what we're working with. yep. There is the before.... and the wishes for the after.

nearly there

Winters in the Northwest invite you to hibernate for about.... oh, four to six months. It's not exactly required, and you may feel enthusiastic enough to go out and play in the mountains, take a couple of trips, and perhaps even take long walks every single day (your dog may require it of you, and you may oblige). But compared to the energy and enthusiasm of Spring, Summer and Fall... Well, let's just say things are a bit different in Winter.

The cherry trees, crocus, and daffodils are blooming now. Buds are emerging on branches everywhere, and I walk around feeling pretty darn delighted. I find myself coming up with projects (when two weeks ago I was bemoaning the fact that I didn't have any projects and couldn't think of any). I painted the trim in our hallway. I painted our bathroom. I reorganized the basement and rearranged my design studio. It's like the fog and sleepiness of winter has thinned and dispersed, and suddenly I notice all sorts of things to do! Pretty exciting, really.

Today is heavy with torrents of rain and wind. The streets are deserted as we watch from our office windows hoping to see the action of someone caught in this monsoon. Just as the day seems as if it is about to go dark, the clouds break a little and the room lights up.

I'm pretty sure I've yawned about 4,387 times today, but I swear I'm feeling perky. It's only a matter of time before Spring really is here (no more snow, like on Tuesday!) and then Summer is sure to follow. I look forward to BBQ's and boating, long evening walks and perhaps a couple of camping trips.

In the meantime I will busy myself with household thrills like mopping the floor and dusting out the cupboards. And maybe some more painting...

Irish seaside courtesy of this is glamorous

Oregon cherry blossoms

Spring cherry tree

some days

Some days are like this: Grey and clear, mountains in the background and a whole lot of chatter in your mind. This and that and the other unimportant-and-yet-ever-nagging thing clamoring for focus. Some days are like that: Less cluttered and your mind feels clear.

I like to utilize photos and visual props. For instance, a fantastic moment for this woman's hair. She's another one of those ladies who sits around looking amazing, irregardless of the fact that she is quite possibly wearing her boyfriend's clothing from the mid-90's.

I also wanted to put to use this really fabulous moment for the weather. This was caught as snow was falling outside my window, and after a few hours the weather visual seemed to decide, "Snow is fun, but what I'd rather be doing is plip-plopping."

Some day are like that.

not but good

I am not feeling the thrill of being back at work after my vacation. I think it may have something to do with my hours suddenly being restricted (you mean I can't just walk to breakfast and take a leisurely day reading my book and wading in the water on a perfect white sand beach!?). It may also be that vacation triggers my creative mind to bubble with ideas, my life comes into focus, and I have this feeling there are other things that need doing.

I suppose I can still fit work into my schedule, but I'll need to rearrange a few things at home and get my fingers busy working on something beautiful. There are dresses that need designing, projects that need creating, and thank you cards that need writing for all of the wonderful gifts I received over the holidays.

I (this entire post is about me, I hope you don't mind) feel very special for all kinds of reasons. One of which is waking up to someone who says (while practically still asleep) "You are beautiful and amazing and I love you."

Today may not be the best work day ever, but my day got off to a perfect start. Although I groan and grumble, it's not so bad (and really it's pretty good).

Photos via my new luxury item, on a street somewhere in Puerto Rico.

pretty messy

This photo is so lovely!

I like the Bohemian 60's French apartment my mind wanders into, the scent of fresh market flowers and the chime of jars filled with cheap champagne. The garden courtyard rings with laughter and the sound of a bicycle bell as the nerdy teacher in his tweed suit (with elbow patches and one shoe untied...) rolls in from his afternoon classes.

That's about it. I could add in details for the pretty print on the table cloth, and the fresh strawberries from the window box. There are the pretty cloth flats near the front door (with its brass handle and the A-line jacket hanging on its hook), the tea kettle with it's bright blue lacquer and the pretty white dishcloth hanging from the oven.

If I can't live in France and sip wine with my pretty French friend, at least I can twist my hair into this messy Chignon and add a little extra eyeliner. It's almost the same thing.

photo courtesy of This is Glamorous, courtesy of hiphipgingin

up it goes

If your house burned down, it'd be sad. Awful, frightening, heartbreaking, and sad.

If you could run in beforehand and pick out a few cherished items, it'd be a little less sad.

If you took a pretty photo of the items, and then had a few other people do the same thing with a few of their cherished items, it'd be art.

My list of things to grab if the house was burning down:

Small wooden box of vintage and silver jewelry.

Birthday boots, brown leather.

Hard drive with photos.

Metal straight pins from Peru.

Two scarves from Thailand.

Camera.

Recipes.

Box of baby clothes and handmade toys.

Small metal 'vase' with dried flowers from when I was a kid.

That one love letter I requested and was actually given.

I'm pretty sure this list would make me cry if my house burned down, and I'd add a few hundred more things (like my silver cutlery, my favorite heels, a few vintage dresses, and all of my art) but it's a pretty good start. I think if I lost everything else (not including people or dogs) I would be pretty okay if I had these things.

I'd like to put it out there that this doesn't mean I have a good plan and I feel like my house might burn down. I'd really rather not ever have to deal with that. But I'm glad I have a list.

photos courtesy of black eiffel

but really courtesy of the burning house

ingenuity

Rest, ice, compression, elevate.

That's what you're supposed to do with a sprained ankle.

I know this because I sprained my ankle over the weekend. Lucky me, I decided to look away while running down a hill at the park just as a large tree root threw itself under my foot.

Today I decided to walk all over the place, up and down stairs, drive the truck (manual transmission) and 'suddenly' it started hurting. In actuality, it's been hurting all day (because it's sprained), so I took the pain for normal discomfort and paid no mind. Unfortunately, when I finally decided to take a look at it, the ankle part had swollen to twice its size and I had to scramble to ice it with whatever we had on hand. I settled on a 3-month old loaf of frozen bread. After twenty minutes of icing, I elevated it on a roll of bubble wrap. And of course this set me to thinking.

I love (passionately, tenderly, joyfully) the human ability to use tools to accomplish our ends. For instance: if there's a dish on a high shelf that I can't quite reach, I can grab a large soup ladle and extend my arm by nearly half its length! How exciting! It makes me giggle every time.

I'm trying to think of other examples, such as using using a pencil to hold your hair back, or an outdated laptop to hold a door closed. They don't always have to make sense.

The bubble wrap is making crunching noises and sticking to my leg. My desk chair was certainly not made to support someone with one leg up on their desk and the other foot on the floor. I'm pretty sure any clients who walk in the door wouldn't have much to say to me with my bare foot in their face. I suppose some tools should be used in private.

pretty bubble wrap courtesy of the Guardian

The origins of bubble wrap - wallpaper?

fire and rain

After a very wet winter, spring seems to have come at last. Two straight days of sunshine, nearly 60 degrees (elated, I tell you!) and the world seems happy. But not the whole world.

There are a whole lotta folk out there right now, waiting for the Rapture. The End of Days. And it's supposed to happen on 21 May, or, if you haven't been looking at a calendar: the Day after Tomorrow. All this according to some guy who first thought it was going to happen in 1992, but then re-sorted the data and biblical evidence and found that with the new calculations, (and the extra 19 years to jot down a few notes and do some research): the new end is later than expected but really very soon.

Some people are making jokes about it. Others are freaking out. I'm pondering the idea, and thinking back to Y2K, and that not-so-fateful New Year's Eve count down. Remember when we thought all technology was going to crash and civilization would fall because of some 1's and 0's!? I bought a few gallons of water and extra candles. A little part of me was sad that we didn't get to camp out at home for a few days as things got situated.

And here we are. From what I've seen, there is always someone expecting the end of the world, and there always has been. It's like the study they did with high schoolers where something like 97% of those studied (I honestly have no recollection of the actual percentage, but remember it being incredibly high) admitted that they thought they'd die before high school ended (the cause being mostly that they could not conceive of a life in a world that did not involve school and living at home). Scary.

I'm going to continue to believe in mystery and all of its wonders. I don't know what the day after tomorrow will bring, but if it's anything like last Saturday, I'll be digging in my garden and enjoying the sweet scent of soil and the sound of buzzing bees.

Just for fun, here's a blog from December 2008 talking about another anticipated End of Days - January 19, 2009. (This is where I got the nuclear fire ball photo, too.)

bears - because we all need something cute to distract us from apocalyptic concerns

worried blinking baby - you know it's bad when babies are worried

pup show

This is a photo of Pup (not his actual name) doing his Praying Mantis. It is a sign of contentment, he likes to have his belly rubbed.

On a walk yesterday with Pup, I started discussing with him (a very one-sided conversation, but he seemed to be listening) all of the things I look forward to as time goes by. Specifically, all the life-with-a-dog things that would be nice if they ever came to be. I'm not sure if he really heard what I was saying, or really took it in and mulled it over. I can only hope.

In case you were curious, (and even if you weren't) this is the list of things I'd like:

1. To walk side by side, with no pulling on the leash or darting off to the side to pee on a bush (go ahead and pee, just don't lurch wildly while you're at it!). He's getting better, but experimenting with leaning against my knee as we walk. It's a power play thing, I hope I'm winning.

2. The quick and absolute end to eating poop. I realize it's pretty rare, and it's usually the neighbor's cat treats, but it's gross and you should stop doing that.

3. No more retching in the wee hours of the morning on the carpet. This doesn't happen often, either, but it's really an awful way to wake up (for me, as well as you). I understand this will happen from time to time, but perhaps you could make your way to the kitchen or the bathroom instead? It would be much easier to clean.

4. No more chasing, attacking, biting, or pouncing on or toward cats, ducks, or anything else. It's starting to get a bit weird. Some days you're fine. I'd like to know that every day you'll be fine.

5. And finally, an end to nose-diving into people's crotches. It makes everyone uncomfortable, nobody likes it, and it makes you seem as if you have no manners at all.

I could probably double the size of the list, but these are a good start. Let's go from here and see what happens.

circus

Themes abound lately, inspiration everywhere. I am part of planning three separate events, and it's getting very exciting. Here are a few pieces of inspiration (out of hundreds) for one of them. It has sent my little brain into tizzies from the thrill of it all. Planning lighting, food, drinks, and creating ambiance: yes, please! I love it. I get excited about even the tiniest details.

Until each event is over, I'll be thrilling about what, when, where, and who. I'll be tinkering around in my head about which piece of decor will go where, how to set the glasses and where to place the guest of honor. It may or may not include a monkey, a contortionist, mimes, and a floating sphere with a lady inside, dancing.

Giselle Popcorn Bags at Blush!nk

Hagenbeck Wallace ticket
Joshua Joy ticket

bubbling

My hands are itching to make, create, plant, sew, clean, smooth, organize, and redecorate. With spring finally bringing a little sunlight and warmth (gasp! it's 60F!) all the little nerve endings in me are bubbling with excitement at all of the promise of Things To Do.

First and foremost: vacuum the living room. We've pretty much reached maximum capacity for Pup hair, and I'm pretty sure I might go a little crazy/ier if the situation isn't resolved. And yes, I do realize that vacuuming is just an everyday thing and not a "just in the spring" thing.

Next on the list: build a planter box (big, but not too big, baby steps are good) and plant herbs and other edibles. Then, spend the rest of the spring and summer tending to them and exclaiming (on possibly a daily basis) how quickly they're growing, how green they are, and oh-my-goodness: is that a bud!?!

And finally: paint some more. And more. There are still far too many walls carrying the sad colors of the before-people. It's best to do it when you can open the door and let the fumes out. Otherwise, you and Pup may start acting a little silly as brain cells gasp and die.

As I plot and plan, all the while I am thinking, "If I could wear a vintage apron, twist my hair in a grand knot (like in Anne of Green Gables), and sip sweet tea in between: even better."

photos courtesy of twig and thistle

prey

The circle of life makes me a little bitter sometimes.

I'm all for the Law of Nature and the best and brightest of the species surviving, but I have a difficult time standing by while some adorable little creature is being hunted by a big ugly one.

I actually pulled the car over to try and intervene as a giant crow (no bigger than your everyday crow) ruthlessly stalked a baby squirrel. An adorable baby squirrel. I've heard squirrels called rats with fluffy tails, but I rather like them squirreling about and they are particularly cute when they're tiny.

So, with no particular plan in mind I actually hopped out of the car and shouted and waved and clapped in the general direction of the nasty crow, which of course scared the crap out of the squirrel, and he just sat there trying to disappear into the woodwork of a nearby telephone pole.

The crow hardly noticed me except to acknowledge that I was irritating, and flew up onto a telephone wire waiting for me to leave. I realized that it was futile, and interrupting the nature of things can go badly for people (have you seen video of that lady and the bear?!). I drove away hoping the crow would head off, and that the tiny adorable squirrel would find somewhere safe and secure to hide.

Afterward I decided I will continue to carefully rescue earthworms from the sidewalk and carry spiders outside but I think my squirrel-saving days are over.

squirrel photo courtesy of my cute animals

crow photo courtesy of fat finch

just don't

It's always best to look both ways, double check, and then look again.

Which I did.

I did not, however, see the police officer walking (fast like the wind?!) right behind my vehicle and into the street. Luckily, I saw him, and had already stopped. Can I just add that backing up out of a driveway with a huge light pole and a wide pedestrian walkway is tricky?

Unfortunately: he wasn't too nice about it, gave me a "I'm a police officer, tiny worm-slug" look and said, "Be careful."

Fortunately: no ticket. I'm not sure what the ticket would have been for, but something in his look told me he could have come up with something.

*sigh*

I find it a little bit funny that I was actually mad at him for a minute. What the...!? Where did you come from?! I'm thinking my fear of crushing a man with my car may not have outweighed his fear of being crushed by a car.