Better Living Through Craigslist.

Paul was on vacation last week.  A luxurious time of non-stop projects and all-day banging, sanding, sawing, powerwashing, and twenty-seven trips to Home Depot.

At the beginning of the week, he sat down to make his list of things to do.  I was excited, because there was a project I’d been waiting for him to find time for.  I must have been hanging around his list-making too eagerly because he looked at me, looked back at his list, and immediately crossed out the first item.  He said—hand me that marker.  I was delighted!  My requirements were getting top billing and in the bold sharpie they deserve.  He wrote:

Wow. This is totally fascinating… keep reading.

Completed Medicine Cabinet. Awesomeness.

“I am not a cabinet maker.”   Is what Paul said to me months ago, when I showed him my ideas for a giant, recessed, extra-tall, medicine cabinet.  He explained that he is not a woodworker, or a finish carpenter, or an elderly Amish man.

Vintage glass knob, reproduction bath hardware.  Restoration hardware.
Wow. This is totally fascinating… keep reading.

Worth Reading – The Big House.

I’ll only buy books that I’ve already read and loved.  I will linger months and months on the library’s waiting list… Because it irritates me to buy something and be disappointed.  Except at the library booksale—where for a dollar, you might discover something wonderful.  Which is where I picked up The Big House: A Century in the Life of an American Summer Home.

If you have an interest in American architecture, Gilded Age history, or memoirs, you should read The Big House.  I loved it.  (Although it left me irritated that my great-grandfather didn’t have the foresight to build a summer mansion in Cape Cod. )

Wow. This is totally fascinating… keep reading.

Disco America.

Last weekend Paul and I went to Disco America—a Hustle dance competition. When I say, “Hustle” to people, it conjures up big mustaches, gold chains and skeevy guys.  Lots of cologne, Saturday Night Fever, gold lamé, Scarface, white polyester, bubble machines and feathered hair.

It wasn’t quite as awesome as all that—but it was pretty awesome.  Even two days later, my feet hurt, and I’m still exhausted—a measure of plenty of good dancing.  And how I am now too old to be awake at two o’clock in the morning.

The quality of the video isn’t fantastic, but the dancers are.

Don’t You Love The Overgrown Louisiana Bayou Look? – Little Edie Beale

The day we moved in, our front porch looked like this:

Like maybe we were in the jungle.  Or Key West.  It was really private—which I loved.   It had an overgrown, Grey Gardens vibe.  Which was pleasing in a dramatic way.  Like I might become a person who wears scarves and doesn’t clean the house, and eats tinned caviar for dinner.

Wow. This is totally fascinating… keep reading.