pouf the magic dragon

Two weeks (ok, and a bit) to go before Manchild appears. And I still have to learn how to install a carseat.

My nesting urges and my swollen feet are vying for preeminence.  Like when I start scrubbing baseboards with a toothbrush, only to find I can't bend my ankles enough to get up again. But then I am in a perfect spot to crawl around on the floor and pick up lint by hand. Which, it turns out, is very rewarding. It doesn't solve the getting up problem, though.

A nesting urge that DOES work well with swollen feet is online shopping. It's hard (for my conscience) to argue with "it's for the BABY." Less hard for Peter to argue with that, somehow. My conscience is a bit of a pushover.

I decided the other day the VERY THING I needed to make the perfect nursery for Manchild so he grows up with the exact right amount of love/challenge/fun was a Moroccan pouf. Seriously. It's for the BABY.

The problem is Moroccan poufs are trendy and therefore pricey. But I found the excellent store From Morocco With Love, AND a 50% coupon (not sure when it expires, but try HOLIDAY30). And as a result, I now have a super cheery red leather pouf.

For, you know, the baby.
 

From Morocco With Love is also awesome because it's a nonprofit and funds projects in Morocco. So my purchase was for the baby AND the good of humanity. Conscience happy, baby soon-to-be-happy -- everyone wins.

snomore!

Actually I love a good snow storm, but this has been insanity.  And we've been hit again, after we spent 7 hours over the weekend digging ourselves and neighbors out.  My back's still recovering.

Still, we have internet, we have electricity, and we have a kindle.  So we're doing just fine.

Some other good news I wanted to share: Nahla passed her test!  She is now an American citizen and can start working on getting her husband and son out of Nigerian refugee camps and into jobs and school.  Thanks so much for all your positive thoughts and prayers.  She worked so hard for this, and it is going to make her life so much better.

Have you seen this weatherman freaking out about last weekend's storm?   He was right on.  It really was that crazy.  And that was before today's blizzard of insanity.  10 inches and counting.  We still have whiteout conditions -- and they're talking about another storm on Sunday.
 

At least I'm getting a lot of knitting done.

home. sweeeet home!

Hubba hubba.

Oh, honey.

Please, please: be mine.

This gorgeous Moorish home (in Key West, whoudda thought it?) was built by a team of Moroccan artisans who camped out in Florida for a year.  (Hilariously, they got weekly check-up visits from the FBI.) 

I love love love it. The hand tiled floors, the incredible wood ceilings, the mashrabiya screens -- I swear we are meant for each other.

I figure all that stands between us is about $50 mil.  Well, that and my poor sweet husband, who is still coming to terms with our awesome new wallpaper.

Check out more photos and details at Architectural Digest.  (Seeing this house alone was worth our magazine subscription.  Which, come to think of it, we didn't pay for.  Thanks for the Christmas gift, Amberphivia!)

wallflowers

I don't know if it's cabin fever or what, but lately I just want to decorate decorate decorate.

Two years ago, I bought some glorious wallpaper from Anthropologie.  It's been tucked in the back of the coat closet ever since.  Until TODAY!

Before:

After:

Wahoo!

Pete still hasn't noticed the dining room light facelift; I'm betting he'll notice this a tad sooner.

DIY lighting step-by-step guide

step 1: Finally get fed up with foul cheapo brass dining room light fixture.

step 2: Get brilliant suggestion from brilliant s-i-l to spray paint the whole nasty thing and thus baptize it into a new life of sky-blue beauty.

step 3: Swear brilliant s-i-l to secrecy, under principle of it being easier to ask forgiveness of one's husband than permission.

step 4a: Have plans spoiled by blabbing b-i-l who runs out and tells whole world, including husband, of secret spray-painting plans.

step 4b: Spend all weekend in the doghouse.

step 5: Buy genius candlesleeves from kaarskoker.

step 6: Wait anxiously for mail.  Open package, cut gorgeous sleeves to right length, slide onto chandelier.  Throw away hideous shades.  Use blue bulbs just for the heck of it.

step 7: Bask in the glory that is my new chandelier.

step 8: Make bets on how long it'll take husband to notice . . . 

christmastime in the suburbs

The sudden cold weather makes everything feel like Christmas--it's too early but I'm ready for hall-decking.

This wreath would be fantastic, no?

And for decking out oneself, look at these Australian lovelies:

Sweet rose pendant here, outback-boulder inspired earrings here.

"If I'd known how much packing I'd have to do, I'd've run again." - Harry S. Truman

I've got the pre-trip jitters, which I'm calming by overpreparing. Today, for example, I bought a bunch of nonessentials that MIGHT make my trip more fun but will probably just contribute to massive overweight luggage fines.

Still, some of the gadgets are pretty cool. Behold:

From top right clockwise, we've got a DIGITAL LUGGAGE SCALE. I could, of course, just buy a scale--but this is so much cuter. I am also relieved to not have to worry about the wild checked-to-carry-on scramble at check in, which always seems to result in my underwear or dirty socks being exposed to public scrutiny.

(My desk chair, incidentally, weighs 11.2 pounds. A half-full gallon of milk is 10.2 lb, and my new cookie sheets, at 2lbs, weigh the same as my left foot. I'm kind of addicted.)

I also got earplugs that are supposed to prevent congested ears from messily imploding with airplane pressure changes. Isn't that the worst? It's like aural kidney stones.

I got luggage locks (I'll be rooming with my sisters, and I so do not trust them to keep their hands of my DVD collection), moleskin (why are comfy shoes so impossible to find?), and a hunk of good-enough-to-eat Godmother soap from Lush. Although unless my luggage scale is particularly affable, I'll have to leave the soap at home.

Still to pack: billions of ziploc bags, billions of paperbacks, and billions of knitting projects. My greatest fear in foreign travel is boredom. I was hoping to get Leslie's sweater done before the trip, but the lace is proving a worthy foe. Note to self: must learn basic math. "Repeat four more times" actually means a total of FIVE repeats is required.

Here's the lace for the back of the sweater. It's unblocked, so it will get much prettier. And the best part. . . it only weighs a tenth of a pound!

to everything there is a season

Fall is the BEST.  I could breathe nothing but fall for a year and still want more.  I love the way everything gets golden; I love that fall smell(what IS that, anyway?); I love apples.

And I love it when ilee's releases next year's calendar.  It's letter-pressed perfection, and happily much more affordable than ilee's (equally mouthwatering) custom-made invitations.

And it went on sale today.  I won't tell you how long I spent this morning hitting refresh, waiting for it to -- finally! -- be posted.

Now I need just need to figure out what to do with my 2008 ilee calendar.  It's waaaay too pretty to sit in a landfill somewhere.  Anyone have any suggestions?

bibliophibians

(click to embiggen)

I've recently found Robin McKinley's wacky, footnoted blog (she rings bells! and tends roses!), and she linked to this awesome comic.

That is sooo me and Peter. Our townhome has a second bedroom which holds: one elliptical machine; seven pieces of Middle Eastern art that, to preserve our marriage, have been banished to the upstairs; and five thousand, two hundred and seventy-three books.

About seventeen of those books are Peter's.

Sigh. I see his point, but-- you can't throw away BOOKS! What if next Thursday or next April or next year I need to read this fascinating book on Eastern Shore seagulls? What if my future children need to read this 1950s copy of Black Beauty? What if some neighbor needs to borrow this book on the Balfour Declaration?

Next townhome we're getting three bedrooms--one for Peter's elliptical, and one for my books.

bathtub baubles

When my folks moved to London, like, last week, they sold their house and everything in it. Everything, that is, that I didn't claim first.

One of the things I got dibs on first was a fabulous set of glass globe candleholders. They're hung on nice-enough-to-eat chocolate velvet ribbon, and Momma had them suspended over her soaking tub. (I tried to claim the tub, too, but it wouldn't fit in the car. Or, for that matter, in my bathroom.)

Today I managed to hang them over MY bathtub.

You may not realize how epic that statement is. Context: when it comes to DIY-ing, I have the anti-Midas touch. Everything I touch turns to rust and ruin. For example. There are 3, count 'em, 3 toilet paper holders in our house, all installed by me, and all, Peter has since pointed out, upside down. The paper towel holder I screwed into the kitchen wall unscrews itself weekly; every successfully hung painting hides behind it several dozens of a-little-higher-now-over-to-the-right nail holes.

But this time? 7 baubles: 7 holes. I'm feeling GOOD.



Now all I need is a long, hot bath.