Since September

Apr 6, 2009 | This Life

It’s been since September since we’ve been able to throw open windows and sleep in fresh air. It won’t last long, this much I know. Rain is always on the horizon. But for the moment, I’m enjoying open windows and fresh air and the smell of a room baked in sunlight.

I thought I’d take a few moments this afternoon to give you a peek into our “progress.”  I’ve been finishing the decor details this spring while I wait for the weather to warm up enough to tackle the tedious work of painting the trim. It’s slow work because I’m only adding things as I find them. We did invest in a few vintage Japanese side tables for the space. However, other than a new mattress and duvet cover, everything else is vintage or thrifted or used in some fashion. And finding those items doesn’t happen quickly.

  

We started redoing our bedroom 2 summers ago and after that initial rush, we seemed to stall out. We ran out of good weather to finish the paint job–then vacations came. Followed by hurricane force winds that meant a new roof. Before we knew it a year had passed and then commitments the following summer kept our attentions elsewhere. It seems to be the way we function here at Chez Wonder; everything is a work in progress. Old houses are fantastic for their intrinsic details. Until you have to paint those details. Is it any wonder that we find other things to keep us occupied?  

  

However, I am determined to “finish” this space (is any space really ever done?) before the 2 year mark. I constantly form new methods to manage the madness.

“IZ, if we just painted one side of the room a day, we could knock this thing out in an a week.”

“IZ, you know, maybe when it warms up enough to paint, we should just set aside a few hours each afternoon. Start at say, 4 pm and paint until 5. Whatever we get done, we get done.”

“IZ, I’m convinced if we just start somewhere and do it little pieces at a time we’ll keep going. Momentum and all. That could work, right?”

  

I suspect IZ is tired of hearing sentences start with his name. It’s typically a good clue that I have plans which involve work for him. His response to this nagging persistence is to “Um hum” me. But trust me, dear friends, that only fuels my fire. He figures, if he’s noncommittal about it, that technically he hasn’t agreed to doing anything.  Ever the optimist, he’s hoping I’ll get distracted and forget.  You’d think he’d know, after living with me for all these many years, that’s it’s only a matter of time.

Note on paint: Per Keri’s request.  Pratt and Lambert: Apothecary Shop Blue Medium Light for the bed. The walls are Galt Dining Room Blue, but backed out at least 50%. (lighter). They are part of the Williamsburg collection. ~W

Note on linens: Per Tricia’s request. Duvet (‘Chinoiserie’ Pottery Barn 2007), Quilt (‘Porcelain Blue’ Pottery Barn 2005) Floral Muslin Pillowcases (Vintage), Crochet Lace edged cotton sheet (Vintage), Sea Green Sham (Thrifted) 

When Sanity Smells Sweet

Mar 23, 2009 | This Life, Thrifty Goodness

In February of 2002, Iz and I moved onto a Seminary campus with our 5 year old son. It was a move made out of necessity and when I’m honest about it, out of desperation. Iz had no job and prospects in his field dissipated after 9/11.  He went from having three promising opportunities with interviews scheduled  on the 10th to being told the jobs just didn’t exist any more. We were bleeding money and our reserves were gone and we were beginning to question how we could stay together.

So, when the Vice President of Admissions personally called to ask if I’d consider her school, I wasn’t in a position to say no. It was actually cheaper for us to go to graduate school in Marin than to stay in our expensive apartment in Dublin. A point she was keen to make. And did she. I’d toured the campus the previous spring so I had some sense of the housing situation. I just had no idea when I agreed to apply that I was going to sink my tiny family into a hell hole. 

You know that old addage, “Beggars can’t be choosers”? Well, that was us the winter of 2002.  We sold off what we could live without (we’re still replacing our entire music collection) and packed the remainder into storage. We said goodbye to our beloved cat (no cats allowed!) and our friends. We were being given the golden opportunity to live in 400 square feet—two rooms and a bath. As  beggars, we were supposed to be darn happy for the chance. 

Part of me was relieved. Seminary, and this pit of an apartment, gave our family a chance to stay together. It was a well known fact that the Seminary would let you build up debt without calling it in. You could live “rent free” until you could pay it off. We had no intention of abusing that system (nor did we!) but the rents alone made sense for us to take the offer.  We were on the brink of financial ruin and we’d already contacted friends who could house us separately if need be. IZ would find work–the boy and I would wait it out with his god-mother in Arizona. To this day, I weep at the thought of it.  

But part of me was devastated. We were moving into a filthy apartment that had no real kitchen! The “sink” was an RV sized thing that backed up when our upstairs neighbors decided to mop their floors. The oven was so tiny, I bought a kid’s play baking sheet so I could make scones and cookies–baked six at a time!  The non-working refrigerator still had a half gallon of rancid milk and the shelves had 3″ of grease build-up on the top of them that smelled faintly of curry mixed with chlorox. I don’t even want to discuss what was growing in the bathroom. And have you ever had to teach a bath loving 5 year old to take a shower? It’s a sad, sad affair, my friends. Wet and sad.  I’d never lived in such a dump and I was ashamed. When my child handed me a used razor blade he found on the floor and said, “Mom, this place is a pit.” I lost it. I sat down on the floor and openly wept.  

Two months prior a dear friend sent me a care-package filled with goodies from L’Occitane. She seemed to sense that my nerves were fraying and I could use some pampering. At the time I didn’t appreciate it. My mind was on making rent not buying expensive soap. As I surveyed the contents I couldn’t help but wonder, “What do I need with linen water?” Seriously? She sent me linen spray?

Who uses linen spray? I don’t iron my sheets. Heck, they’re rarely even folded—instead, fetched just in time from the dryer to make their appearance on my bed. “What, sweetie? You were going to bed? Oh yeah, I left the sheets in the dryer, just a sec. . . ”  I had no idea that linen spray would be my sanity in the coming months. 

It didn’t take me long, looking at rotting milk and left over trash, to get angry. And when I get angry, I clean. So I did the only thing I knew how to do—I began to make that pit our home.  

We’d decided that our child still needed a bedroom, so I deep cleaned that space for him. We set up his bed and unpacked his toys.  I lined shelves and scrubbed cupboards. We managed to move the dead refrigerator onto the “deck” and put our own in its place. I was so peeved I left the milk in it. Maintenance would eventually arrive to cart it off along with the rest of the trash left by the previous tenant.  IZ and I set up desks along one side of the front room. The other side had a tiny dining table and our futon/bed. I mounded our feather bed on top of the lumpy futon, made the bed with fresh sheets sprayed with the L’Occitane linen water that finally made sense. We fell into bed that first night with the knowledge we were together. It was 400 square feet of grime and misery. But our tiny child slept in his own room and we held hands in the night breathing in clean sheets. 

For six months linen water would be my sanity. I would get up each morning, spray my sheets with this ridiculously expensive linen water and then head off to classes and work. It was such a small reminder that my life was not without some luxuries. And each night, I would fall exhausted into bed but transported to another place. On the scent of linen spray, I escaped the pressure of balancing a job 50 miles away, a child not coping with change, a husband overwhelmed with making this work, and the never ending pages waiting to be read. Linen spray, misted on sheets was an embodiment of a simple truth: we were all still together. And together, we were going to be OK. 

That bottle of linen spray is long gone, accidently poured down the sink by a well meaning person during the next move. I no longer need it–but I still love using it. L’Occitane has long since discontinued the product—so, I make my own.  I thought I’d tell you how beneath the fold. Because, you just never know when you might need a reminder that your life is not without some luxuries. 

And take it from me: life seems better when you’re sleeping in sweet smelling sheets.

(more…)

Running Up That Hill

Mar 17, 2009 | This Life

Just a small update. As some of you know, we’ve been in a holding pattern here at Chez Wonder. Waiting. Waiting for doctor’s appointments, “procedures”, and ultimately a diagnosis. IZ has spent most of the past 5 weeks on bed rest. I’ve spent most of the past 5 weeks on Google getting a medical degree. You know, Google is your friend. Until it’s not.

It’s difficult to not jump to conclusions–especially when the medical professionals in your world are grim at best. They start dropping “C” words and you start panicking. Ok, maybe you don’t. But I do, and I began praying for a diagnosis of hemorrhoids.

I won’t keep you hanging. It wasn’t any of the “C” words and it’s a far better conclusion than hemorrhoids. IZ had two polyps removed, one severely ulcerated. The cellular structure of this beast wasn’t normal, but it wasn’t cancer yet either. We are deeply relieved to not only have a diagnosis, but to have a solution already in place.  He has a beautiful colon, and I’ll be sneaking benefiber into brownies from now on. 

When I wasn’t on Google becoming a medical expert, I was on Facebook having Country Western Lyric wars with friends or on Youtube convincing myself that every song the Kings of Leon ever wrote was really a secret message to me. “Sex on Fire,” yeah, that’s a song about hemorrhoids. 

For the distractions and the friends who gently inquired about our welfare, I am deeply grateful. Some of you say you are praying–and I believe you. And it’s a rare gift to support without demanding an explanation, a rare charge to be present and not make it about you. Some of you are gifted pastors of the soul—I’m so glad my soul knows yours!

As for Youtube, it’s funny how in certain moments our lives are scored. We compile soundtracks. Or I do. Music is temporal, set in time, associated with certain movements in our journey. And once associated, it’s hard to shake the immediate recall upon hearing it. I stood in a discount store when a Coldplay song came on over the store loudspeakers—I bit back tears and had to leave. For the rest of the day, I couldn’t shake the anxiety hearing that song produced. Because it took me back to when I was most happy and I couldn’t make that work with the fear I was experiencing now.

It’s always about us, right? What’s the point if all those lyrics don’t have meaning? So, we score our lives and fall deeply into this belief that the pounding rhythms blaring through our earphones will keep our hearts beating even as it destroys our hearing. It’s an escape. Which is why, though it is not true, I’m convinced Kate Bush’s Running Up that Hill really is appropriate. “If I only could make a deal with God, get him to swap our places.” How is that not about my fear and love? 

And it’s always about us, right? This is the danger. Because when a loved one falls ill, it is about us just as much as it isn’t. I can’t make a deal with God, though it doesn’t stop me from trying. And no matter how afraid I am of the outcome it’s still not me going through it. Not really. There is a divide, a space between us that is holy and I cannot cross. I cannot be in his body to feel it, to know his fear.  I can only place my hands on his sleeping body and say, “God, could it just be hemorrhoids?” (more…)

Mojo

Mar 13, 2009 | This Life

 

Sometimes, I actually use this.

 

My makeshift desk is littered with pale blue post-it notes. They’re piling up on the floor too. Weeks of lists I’ve been scrawling to myself, in some desperate attempt to restore order. It’s a brute force attempt. It’s not working. I’ve lost my Mojo.

I’m a huge fan of lists. Not because I’m really a list writer by nature, but because I’m not. And because I’m not, a list is what keeps me from standing in Safeway saying, “Now why am I here again?”  Dashed off reminders keep me focused, moving forward when the tide of fear and self-doubt threatens to shift the tenuous sand of faith beneath my feet. If you’re searching to be grounded, a reminder to do the laundry helps. It at least keeps you in fresh underwear. Assuming, of course, you remember to change them.

Better put that on a post-it too.

I’ve lost my Mojo. Misplaced it really. I’m sure I’ll find it on a blue post-it note along with a reminder to pick up my favorite wool sweater from the dry-cleaner and another gallon of milk while I’m at it. 

The Best of Etsy — 11 March 2009

Mar 11, 2009 | Best of Etsy, This Life

 

This gorgeous ring is by Andes Cruz.  I’m absolutely in love with the whole store. Go look! 

 

I feel like a 4 year old in the backseat of the car on a very long road trip, “Is it spring yet? Is it spring yet? Is it? How about now?”

No, we are not there yet. But we’re inching closer. Daylight Savings ambushed us this weekend, light is more abundant, and there is a bright orb in the sky  that seems vaguely familiar. It’s not spring yet, but we’re on our way.

I’ve been giving a great deal of thought to my pocket book as of late. The news has a way of making you think and rethink every purchase. I’m  hunting for bargains, weighing my options, clipping coupons! A penny saved is a penny earned, right? So, I thought I would do a Best of Etsy list with that in mind. A list of small treasures that would make thoughtful gifts or painless splurges–all without breaking the bank. A bit of affordable luxury. I’m convinced such measures will hasten the onset of spring. 

The Best of Etsy:  The Affordable Luxury List

I’m really loving this Soap maker. And she does masculine scents too!! So earthy and beautiful! 

I think accessories do an amazing job of making your wardrobe look fresh. Check out this new, one of kind, ring! 

And speaking of money. . . here’s a fashionable hands free way of stashing yours! 

As you well know, I”m on an art kick lately. And these tiny little painting are superb! 

Oh, Cute Baby Alert! Someone buy this already. It’s darling and vintage and perfect!

While I love all the hoops in this store, I‘m leaning toward these for spring. There is a subtle beauty here that you can wear with other jewelry without looking over-done.  

Nothing screams “SPRING” like a bunch of fresh Daffodils. And wouldn’t daffs look wonderful in this?

 

So, a wee bit of luxury! Just a reminder, it’s not too early to be thinking about Mother’s Day (if you’re so inclined to celebrate it!) and this list is an excellent start. If you’re looking for something special on etsy and don’t know where to start, let me know! I’m happy to point in you the right direction!

Now, let’s all collectively think “SPRING!” Those of us out here on the wintery coast of Oregon thank you in advance!

 

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