Category: Home

Home, Humor, Marriage March 17, 2009March 17, 2009

Homesteading

“I prefer the word homemaker, because housewife always implies that there may be a wife someplace else.”
-Bella Abzug

I have, alas, discovered the one tiny little downside to getting married: moving from a really nice condo where I split rent with three other people, have a washer and dryer in house, and a dishwasher, to an apartment that is easily older than I am with none of the aforementioned perks.

To be fair we have two backrooms in addition to the large front, the rent is fantastically low, and Venice and I will be neighbors, but I have discovered an inner interior designer that I previously was unaware of, and she does not approve of chipped, smudged, or dirty walls! She cried out in dismay when she saw them, actually.

The (grossly exagerated and in now way remotely accurate) reality. — The (grossly exagerated and in no way remotely accurate) reality.

Funnily enough I don’t care two straws about the walls when I hang out with Venice or when we were meeting with our prospective landlord. But suddenly walking into the place where I will be living as a renter, to say nothing of wife and therefore “homemaker” (see above quote, even though I’m still sort of protesting the title in my feminist soul. I console myself by saying that I can’t possibly be a true homemaker until I’m no longer working, so that gives me some buffer years), my internal designer tapped a stiletto and said, “Oh, this simply will not do.”

I’m sure they’re not really as bad as my ultra-managerial-these-days mind makes them out to be, and for all I know the paint job my Designer is clamoring for isn’t actually necessary. I am going to attack the walls with a magic eraser and see what sort of difference that makes. Hopefully this quiets her down. If all else fails I’ll just pain anyway, and then weasel the cost of the project off of our rent!

Home, Humor February 26, 2009February 26, 2009

Sugar Mamas, Inc.

“Can anything be so elegant as to have few wants, and serve them one’s self?”
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

A storage receptacle, NOT our future home, yeah!

Once upon a time Venice got married (while I was out of the country and couldn’t come to the party!) and moved into an amazingly inexpensive apartment. A year later, C. was proposed to by J. and thought, “Gee, not only would it be awesome to live by somebody we actually know instead of moving into a new complex surrounded only by perky, happy newlyweds whose major life ambition seems to be reproduction as soon as possible, but it would also be awesome to not have to spend nearly twice as much on a place as I do now while halving the space. I wonder if there are any openings in their building?” And behold, there were! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we are not going to kick off our married lives in a cardboard box under a bridge somewhere, we will be card-carrying adults with a place of our own!

Pity our respective men, we’ll be living two doors down from one another!

Now, the moral dilemma. I have a rather nice tax return this year and no computer, do I use part of my return to buy myself one, or do I put it all towards outfitting my newly acquired flat? The correct answer of course is, “furnishings,” but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss having a computer.

rain1 There are other options as well, should I use the money to help my parents out with the wedding? Pay for at least part of the photography J.’s parents have very generously offered to take care of? Sleep on an air mattress and use crates for furniture, and investing the money in a valiant attempt to stimulate the economy? Turn on a really big fan and dance around in a rain of cash? (The first two have obvious karmic potential, the third I’m nixing for obvious reasons, the fourth is oddly appealing…)

Home, Life January 13, 2009May 22, 2009

Cleanliness is Next to Godliness

“I hate the word housewife; I don’t like the word homemaker either. I want to be called Domestic Goddess.”
-Roseanne

I was up past midnight cleaning my flat for our semesterly cleaning check, even though out of sheer laziness our complex management simply decided to forgo it last Fall. Slowly over the years, as I’ve grown up and moved into a place relatively my own, I have become convinced of a fundamental war between good and evil: order and chaos locked in eternal combat, and their battleground is housekeeping. I’m pretty sure the Apocalypse will happen in my apartment.

I am become Cleaning, the destroyer of sanity

There are divine entities at work too, I’m positive. There is a malicious God of the Dryer who demands the sacrifice of socks to appease his hunger. These hapless cotton victims vanish into an alternate dimension never to be seen again, that’s the only explanation I can satisfactorily come to. I bought two dozen a couple months ago, I’m down to nine (not pairs, total). Also, my flat in particular is plagued by a Dust Demon that periodically covers all it sees with a tangible layer, courtesy of a filthy vent (thanks, management, for helping us out with that). Another entity is our resident Garbage Disposal Goddess who is by turns benevolent and heartless, currently the latter. Thankfully for us all the Second Coming of the Vacuum redeemed us all (three months after it died, a brighter shiny new version arose to take its place).

I’m sorry to say my flatmates aren’t always the cleanest (neither am I, but at least I try!) and occasionally they call Domestic Divine Wrath down upon us. The most recent and notable example is my flatmates leaving two plastic jugs of milk (I’ll call one Sodom and the other Gomorrah) out on the counter for at least 5 days. I woke up one morning, late as usual, and was scampering about to get to work on time when upon entering the kitchen, I found the jugs had exploded all over my counter. Something resembling the unholy love child of cottage cheese and sour cream had erupted everywhere and I was late to work because I had to clean it up or asphyxiate. I suppose that makes me a great crusader at some level but at the time all I was was pissed and, I feel, righteously angry.

This little incident broke the camel’s back for me. When J. came over that night I snapped, very uncharacteristically, “I’ve decided we should get married. Next week.”
Kudos to him, he understood perfectly. He just sighed and asked, “What happened?”
I will say one argument in favor of matrimony and child bearing would be the eventual slave labor offspring provide doing chores. Maybe that’s the reason my mother had four of us.

Anyway, after several hours scrubbing, chemicals, vacuuming, and many socks sacraficed, my flat looks pretty good. The forces of Good have prevailed, for a week at least.

Home, Travel January 2, 2009January 21, 2009

Happy Christmas/New Year

“Ma’am, there’s something a little off with your passport.”
“(Ulp).”
“Ma’am?”
“Cold hand of fear. What’s the problem?”
-UK border guard and C.

border-control Apart from that one tiny hiccup, I had a great holiday. Apparently, despite current dates, special stamps, and a British visa, my passport lost its premium when I was no longer a legal military dependent of my father (graduation day in August). Luckily for me those visas, stamps, and current dates seemed to convince Her Magesty’sGovernment that I was not coming into the country for nefarious purposes and I was admitted to “sort it all out with the Americans.”

My mother and I got into a fight (predictably) the first day I was there, my first brother Giovanni is now HUGE and my second, Buddy, is not far behind. Somehow since summer my ragamuffin little sister Snickers has turned into a girl who wants to cut and dye her hair and wear clothes that are not my brothers’ castoffs, it’s weird. I took my dog on long walks through the English countryside, feeding ponies, letting her chase birds through farmers fields, and taking pictures of Gypsy caravan wagons (I hear Marie, Kels, and Abfab grinding their teeth already, but I did bring Cadburys, girls, so don’t hurt me!)

My mother (after the fight was forgotten, which took about a day), sister, and I took a girls day and went to one of my favorite villages, Lavenham. It’s a medieval wool town that’s absolutely charming, mostly because sometime in the Victorian period someone decided to resurface some of the houses and pulled off the drab outer layer…to discover perfectly preserved Tudor bases beneath! The whole old town was similarly stripped and now High Street is a marvel of wildly crooked houses in striped black and white! We went to the world’s greatest antique shop so my mom could expand her collection of 18thcentury crockery, I could find a few presents, and Snickers could root through everything. We finished with lunch at The Swan, a fantastic hotel made from a medieval ale house with massive fireplaces, old dark wood, and great food!

The Swan, even better on the inside that out, if you can believe it!

The Christmas party we went to was full of Americans as well as Brits so we combined Cajun-fried turkey with paper-crowns for a mixed holiday! We had Victorian fortune telling fish (put the little cellophane slip in your hand and however it moves reveals something about you, but I’m not telling what mine was!) and cracker (you and a mate each hold an end and deafen everybody).

New Year’s Eve was spent packing, New Year’s Day was spent flying, now I’m home and trying to think up some resolutions, I’ll get back to you on that. Hope 2009 brings all the best, friends!

Home, Travel, Work December 22, 2008December 22, 2008

Evil Forces at Work

I must stop this whole thing!
-The Grinch

The weather gods are against me! I fly out to London tomorrow and currently the snow is inches deep and still falling in my western city. And through Minnesota too! Every ten seconds I look out the windows at the ever rising white stuff and have to make a conscious effort not to gnaw my nails down to the knuckles as I envision being trapped in Minneapolis with nothing but moose and my thwarted rage for company on Christmas Day.

I have a suitcase full of presents, it’s my younger brother’s birthday on the 27th, I haven’t seen the other brother in over a year, my little sister is getting bigger all the time and the next time I see her she’ll be 12, I want to sing carols at the top of my lungs while my mom and I cook Roast Beast, and I want my dog!

Why why WHY must the fates ally against me? Every year I go through this panic. Freshman year I was caught in D.C. for a night due to a broken down plane, another year there was a near miss flying out of NY. This year I’m cutting it very close by flying in on Christmas Eve.

On a more positive note, the snow is slowing and they are closing the university early so I can finish packing before heading up to Fairy’s house to spend the night. Fingers crossed for good travel, best of luck to all and to all a goodnight!

Friends, Home, Life December 2, 2008December 2, 2008

‘Tis the Season!

“So, I need a present for J.’s parents, one that hopefully says “Hi-thanks-for-tolerating-me-and-being-so-nice-when-I-occasionally-show-up-and-also-tactfully-disregarding-the-fact-that-I-make-out-with-your-son-on-a-fairly-regular-basis.” I went with assorted nuts and candy, what do you think?”
-C. in a dithering panic to TenFour

I loved spending Thanksgiving at my godparents house, Fairy is without doubt the best godmother in existence, but right now all of the rest, relaxation, and general zen-ness of my holiday is gone. As Fairy ran errands, mostly with me in tow, a powerful sense of urgency began creeping up and before I could stop it, it pounced. Holiday Hyperactivity.

Having trouble finding the perfect gift? — I'm ridiculously on top of things this year. Santa had better be watching!

Growing up my mother sort of fell into a vortex right around Halloween and didn’t resurface until Three Kings’ Day, panting with exhaustion. I never really understood why as a kid. Halloween = candy, Thanksgiving = pie, and Christmas = candy canes. ‘Nuff said. But as I got older and started to see how much work goes into putting the holidays together, I started to appreciate her work. And then I got involved and now I too start to quiver in excitement when it’s time to bake and brew and decorate. So much for my mother’s feminist example, we practically turn into elves come December 1. This year marks a milestone in that I mapped out what I wanted to get everyone, where to get it, and a timetable to get stuff in, taking into account paychecks, plane tickets to London, and sale dates. I’m disgusted with myself. But this is the first year that I actually have this sort of money and I love being able to do it.

Some people look adorable while plotting. I am not one of them! (Editor's note: Small Dog is in no way affiliated with a Grinchy attitude towards Christmas!)

Getting presents is weird for me, I don’t usually like it, but I love giving them. Venice and I already exchanged presents because we have to be two of the most impatient people on the planet. I’ve bought my godfamily’s prezzies, half of my siblings’, and a couple of friends. I bought J.’s parents their present too, harmless holiday treats. I didn’t want to get them something stupid and worthless that they’d probably hate but be required to keep until J. wises up and kicks me to the curb, so I went with something edible. But ironically I have no idea what to get my mother, my sister Peregrine, or J.. Arguably three of the most important people in my life. Thank goodness for the Ghost of Christmas Shopping Guidance that allowed for a few sparks of genius in finding Tink’s, Marie’s, and Kays’!

I think Venice and I should throw a holiday party, but there’s less than three weeks to throw something like that together. Plus I have to get shopping done. Then I’m probably going to want to cook some goodies since I won’t get home until Christmas Eve and will need sugar to propel me through the next three weeks. Good grief, do I even have wrapping paper?!

Vortex, ho!

Friends, Home November 20, 2008November 20, 2008

Ms. Sam Goes to Washington

“Thank gosh I get you back! I was worried that the new girl was going to be obnoxious or a creeper!”
“Well, I can be obnoxious and a creeper sometimes…”
“(Pause) Yeah, but in an adorable, happy sort of way.”
-C. and Belle

It’s the passing of an era: Samantha is moving back to Washington, leaving me to wonder who on earth I would have to share a bathroom with. Don’t get me wrong, my other flatmates are fine, but there is a deep spiritual bond between two women who share sink-space and the daily morning ritual of Putting on the Ritz. I was extremely lucky to stay in my flat after graduation as I didn’t have the money for a down payment somewhere else and an opening popped up last minute. Kiri abandoned me for Lace (the treacherous, ungrateful wretch! …gosh I miss them…) and moved across town and Belle moved back home for a while so I was thrilled to get Samantha as a flatmate.

But life, being a tricksy business, happens and Samantha is leaving me too to go home and work. My consolation prize is that Belle returns. She’s baaaack! In all her huge hair, hyper, effervescent glory. I’m just thrilled to live with someone I know and like, although I do worry about our bathroom because that girl has more bottles, accessories, perfume, and hair product (there might or might not be a mini ozone-hole following her around wherever she goes…) than anyone else I know.

This (makes sweeping motion to encompass face) doesn't just happen. Especially not with Belle. My bathroom will suffer.

I also wonder how she’ll mesh with Bunny and Violet, the other girls. They are quiet, semi-mean, sarcastic girls (I know, I know. Pot meet Kettle) and not much inclined towards…well, anything really. Least of all happiness. Cynical and dry I may be, but at least I have a sense of humor. I was talking to Violet about the flatmate switch and she said she didn’t know what to think of the newbie.
“Belle’s great,” I promised, “most girls like her annoy me, but she’s one of those people that no matter what your first impression is you can’t help but like. Know the type?”
Violet gave me a look. “No.”

I suppressed a shrug and went for a run after checking my phone one last time to see if any of my elusive interviewees for my latest article have decided to surface. I work for a university too, you know, I know how busy it can (not) be.

Home, Life, Travel November 12, 2008November 12, 2008

Dollars and Sense..lessness

“Venice! I just made several bad economic decisions and you were nowhere around to stop me!”
-C.

(Addendum to Desperate Housewife)

Make no mistake, money is a sly thing: the more you have of it, the more opportunities you have to spend it. Having a job has been a bizzare transition from chronically-going-without-or-being creative-to-make-due (using shoes as hammers, having a mi closet est su closet policy with flatmates, the occasional bouts of starvation to pay for books…) to the ability to buy, within reason, the stuff I’ve denied myself.

Granted my relationship with “stuff” for the past few years has been very non-committal. I had a strange expirience going up to university. My parents dropped me off with my grandparents on their way from Guam to Belgium. Try Mapquesting that, it’s quite a trip. Anyway, off they went with a kiss on the forehead and a, “See you at Christmas!” I got myself registered for classes, across the country to school, set up in the dorms, moved in, etc. by myself. And I was an anomaly I soon realized, most of the girls in my dorm had been dropped off by parents with cars full of stuff. I had two suitcases and a pillow.

The trend just sort of continued in most aspects of my life. I will be the first to admit that my various living spaces at school have been rather…spartan. The truth is that I’ve looked at my dorm and various flats as little more than hotels (hm, that’s a bit too kind for some of them, hostels is maybe more fair) that I happen to have had extended reservations for, but no real expectation of sticking around in.

Over the first two years I couldn’t accumulate “stuff” because I spent summers in Brussels working at NATO and had to move myself to Belgium entirely and back again once year. The only exception was the winter clothes that Kays’ family stored for me that I’d bought a mere month after moving from a tropical island to my new home in the Rockies (What was that white stuff falling from the sky? And what do you mean I can’t wear flipflops for the next six months?!). Even when I started sticking around school in the spring and summers to work instead of going wherever my family was, I never seemed to gather anything I wasn’t sure couldn’t fit in a suitcase in a pinch, except books which I refuse to justify.

No dishes of my own. No glass or silverwear. No iron or ironing board. No kitchen gear. No posters for the walls. No more clothes than I could move quickly. Too many shoes, but that’s not up for commentary either.

But. No. More.

Suddenly, inexplicably I was seized yesterday with the desire…to decorate.

Target was my downfall. I went in looking for a mirror and came out with not only that but a comforter, two paintings, a makeup case, and nail polish. But consider! For two years now I’ve dressed without the help of a mirror (which could explain a lot of mishaps, actually…), slept under a single blanket (without color or character), hung nothing on my walls except a calendar, and kept my makeup in a shoebox in the bathroom. There is no excuse for the nail polish, believe me I tried!

I went slightly less goth and used the reversible black-on-white side

My favorite cities to live and play, sort of reminded me of Marie and myself

Worst of all, I had a gift card that could have covered some of the expense but in my frenzy I clean forgot to use it. I lamented this to Marie and she snapped her fingers. “Oh darn, you’ll just have to go back, won’t you?”
“Are you crazy? That store is dangerous, I can’t set foot in there again for six months!” I snapped back, my eyes wide with panic.

I may as well face it: I live here. Sort-of-permanently. I have a decorated room to prove it, I’m past denial. Who knew a reality check would be so expensive? Then again, if I have to settle anywhere, may as well do it in style!

Small Dog Syndrome