I Heart Pitchers

Yesterday I woke up to weather in the 50s, a lovely cool breeze, the grey sky I've strangely come to love. Though, perhaps not so strangely. I've always loved heather grey as a color for clothes--cashmere turtlenecks and ribbed tights and over-sized sweatshirts. I just never payed attention before moving here to the way grey makes other colors pop. (Thus, my choice of background colors for this blog.)

I still feel like a Southerner. My southernness is integral to my identity in ways I find difficult to tease out. Yet, since moving here, I find myself wistful for winter in the middle of spring. I recently bought this cocoa pitcher from an antiques vendor at one of those random little tables full o' junk that sprout up in the center of the mall. I can hardly wait for a true chill to put it to good use. I'll fill it with steaming white hot chocolate, served with marshmallows and a little sprinkle of cinnamon, perhaps a nip of some fabulous liqueur. So many months to wait....

The Need for Blinds Ruins One

As my partner likes to say, having a house is like having a high maintenance girlfriend who is never satisfied. Looking from my desk out into the living room, at first I'm pleased with the view. Even though the paint job in there (like the one in the green room) reflects my learning curve in terms of edges, when to pull the blue tape off, etc., I love the color. (Martha again; Miso Red.)

But then the nagging starts... When are you going to finish those blinds?

Don't get me wrong. I'm happy about my decision to make the window treatments myself. (Have you seen what it costs to have blinds made? It's highway robbery!) It's just, I work very slowly. I haven't been sewing all my life and I'm really fussy--probably too fussy--about the measuring. I should probably not admit this, but it took me all day to make that blind above that (Salvation Army steal) wing chair. Now there's the bay window off to the left, hands on hips, harumphing, and me, three years in, stammering, "I'll get to it tomorrow, I swear."

Disposable Digital

I am one of those people who doesn't have a cell phone. No ipod. No cable tv. What am I doing with a blog?

I blame these peonies.

They came into full bloom day before yesterday, hot pink and stunning. It was one of those wretchedly sticky hot days. Hot like Florida. Hot like, How is this possible? Here? And I'm from Florida. How have I so quickly become someone who writes descriptions like "wretchedly sticky hot?" Anyway, the peonies... they looked so beautiful from the green room window. Then the heat broke and the rain came and beat them to the ground. So, yesterday, I cut them and put them in a vase in the green room, but immediately wanted to share them with everyone I know. (I did give two to friends who happened by when I was out in the garden, but the feeling didn't go away.)

So, today I ran to CVS to grab a disposable digital. (You didn't think I owned a digital camera, did you?) But here's the thing: I'm so in love with my endless project of a house that I did not stop with the peonies. A writing project about my house was already in the works. I've managed, for now, to convince myself to see this blog as an extension (yeah, that's it, an extension) of that project and not the time suck black hole of procrastination I'm afraid it could become.

Writing space: view from my desk, blue daybed

Writing space: detail of blinds I made with my mother-outlaw

Writing space: detail of bookshelf, my beautiful mama