CURATING, CONTINUED

 

Yes, the curating continues.  Yes, just a bit of the excitement has worn off.  Yes, you're right, it has turned into work.  And, no, BC is not terribly taken with my project.  "But, I won't be able to find things now," he has sadly stated.  I have assured him that everything I've taken from the shelves will be returned, perhaps to a slightly different location, but certainly back on the same set of shelves from whence they came.  He is not consoled.  He is a creature of habit.  His comfort zone has been violated. 

 He does not like to step around carefully curated stacks of books.

 

 

He does not like flat items on the floor that make it impossible to get wherever it is he needs to go. 

 

 

Even I, who thought up this project and consider it a bare beginning to the changes I will create within this home, have a certain Alice in Wonderland, down the rabbit hole, feeling as I sit and survey the world around me.

  

 

And, just like Alice, the world around me is appearing bigger and bigger.  I think it's time for a cookie.

EXCUSE ME, I'M CURATING

A few months ago, I read an article about the popularity of curating book shelves.  It is no longer enough to dust, and--if we happen to be feeling especially creative--rearrange  our shelves.  No.  We must curate.  It sounds rather professional though, don't you think?  "I'm so sorry, I won't be able to attend next week's meeting.  I'm curating the book shelves in our den library."

I think curating sounds like something right up my alley.  And, from the look of the shelves as shown above, curating is way past due at our house.  There is nothing like taking a picture of something in your home to realize either: A--That isn't so bad after all, or B--How could I have let that happen!  In this case, it's B.

Now, I'm assuming the first step in curating is removing everything from said shelves and doing a quick analysis of each item.  What is it?  How does it fit in the general scheme of things?  Which sorting area does it belong in?  What fun!  Look, here's an interesting book:  Veterinary Obstetrics and Genital Diseases.  Sometimes I forget that BC spent the better part of his life as a small town veterinarian, doing thousands of obstetrics cases over that time.  I just had never thought of dogs, cats, cattle and horses worrying about genital diseases.  Every day we learn!  Out of curiosity, I opened another of his textbooks right to the page titled, "Amputating a Teat."  We'll just put that pile over in the corner.

I love the old books I grew up with and forget about from one dusting to the next.  Dorothy Parker's Enough Rope  always makes me plop right down on the divan and flip through its pages.  I love her!  This particular copy, on it's seventh printing in 1927, is inscribed:  "Not because I want her to Hang herself do I give Catherine Enough Rope, but more because I want to Rope her in...Dick"  Catherine is, of course, my mother, and Dick?  Perhaps he's the attorney from Kansas City who she briefly dated during her college years.  But, back to Dorothy Parker.  Whereas, she can be a bit dark and frequents the subject of death (a metaphor for a broken heart, perhaps...take that Mr. Adamany), here's one of her more light-hearted efforts:

By the time you swear you're his,

Shivering and sighing,

And he vows his passion is

Infinite, undying--

Lady, make a note of this:

One of you is lying.

Or another, titled "Indian Summer":

In youth, it was a way I had

To do my best to please,

And change, with every passing lad,

To suit his theories.

 

But now I know the things I know,

And do the things I do;

And if you do not like me so,

To hell, my love, with you!

That may be a good note on which to close, as my pace is slowing with each treasure I'm bringing down from the shelves.  Now I'm quite taken with my Grandmother's textbook from 1896, my father's German prayer book, and BC's Behavior Problems with Dogs, many of which seem to resolve rather easily with a regimen of dextroamphetamine and behavioral training.

Curating may take a bit longer than I thought.   

ONLY NEAT CACTUS NEED APPLY

Ya heard me, Pardner.  I like my Golden Barrels the same as I like my whiskey.  NEAT!*

Unfortunately, BC, my yard boy, is in Philadelphia for the week, which means I'm in charge of this little plot of rocky ground.  As I scouted the area today,  I looked at our Golden Barrel and thought...that sucker is not good.

It's homely, it's prickly, and it's messin' with my mood.  So...let's just  get rid of the little brown buggers.  "Ouch!"  Maybe we need some pliers.  And...that's when I discovered this...

Hiding under each of those stickery little clumps is one great big, soft, fluffy, cotton ball.  How cool is that?   I gave it a careful, teensy touch and it's just like the fat Walmart cotton ball I used on my face this morning.  So I plucked and I plucked and I plucked...

Very carefully as these thorns mean business, until it suddenly occured to me that I could be killing this thing.

Yard Boy BC would be one unhappy camper if he returned from Philly to find his Golden Barrel, lovingly (so to speak) cultivated for eight years had taken the count.  So...I'll check it tomorrow and if it's still fat, plump, green and kicking, we'll continue the project.

*NOTE:  Just in case any of you were horrified at that comment, I really don't like my whiskey neat.  I'm more of a '60s Whiskey Sour sort of person, although I don't think anyone today would know how to make them in that '60s sort of way.  It did sound like something a Dodge City girl should say, though, didn't it? 

URBANE BRONZE

This is our perfectly good kitchen island which we purchased three years ago when we gutted our kitchen for a full re-do. As you can imagine, I worried and fretted over which color the island should be--there were three or four offerings--and finally decided on "Moss Glaze" primarily because (I guess) it seemed to coordinate well with the beige walls and floor.  A year or so later in another fit of frenzy, we decided to rid the kitchen of  "Crisp Khaki" walls and give it a shot of "Caraway Shield."  Well, if you look closely at this picture, "Caraway Shield" has no business being anywhere near "Moss Glaze".  Were we colorblind, or could it be BC simply humoring me (yet again)?   No matter...the die was cast and we learned to live with the results.

As you already know, I took the fateful trip to the paint store, explained my situation, and purchased "Urbane Bronze" for the island, as well as the obligatory adhesive primer because...because, I guess, I needed it.  So...I sped home, wiped down the island and painted on the adhesive primer.  THIS was the end result of THAT.  BC blanched, but I assured him that two coats of Urbane Bronze would yield the absolute perfect kitchen island that would cause friends and strangers alike to pause, gasp, and break down because of the beauty and color coordination of our kitchen.

Monday afternoon, paint coat #1. 

In all honesty, the store did tell me it would take two coats.

On Tuesday and Wednesday I was too upset to take any pictures of anything.  Coats two and three were slightly darker versions of coat one.  It was so bad, BC and I drove to Super Target just to get out of the house and calm ourselves (OK--myself) with a heavy dose of shopping therapy.  We also stopped by our friendly ACE Hardware store where I bought a yet more expensive paint brush than we already had, a sheet of sandpaper and learned that problem paint situations are seldom the fault of the paint and MOST often the fault of a bad brush and a worse painter.  Despite the fact that I was painting walls before this ACE young man was born, I did listen and listened intently.

On Thursday morning it was what we, in the country, used to call "nut cutting" time.  I gobbled my cinnamon-raisin toast, threw down my one and a half cups of caffeinated coffee, and attacked that island again  And, whereas it's far from perfect, it is better after a full week of trial, a lot of error, and not a little frustration.  It proudly holds court once again, center stage.

Wait!  Is it me?  Perhaps my eyes??  Bad lighting???  Despite its promise to be "...incredibly rich and complex", my sinking heart thinks "Urbane Bronze" is nothing more than "Moss Glaze" in a semi-gloss disguise...Nooooooooo 

URBAN ORGANICS

Now, frankly, this is more like it.  Look at these colors:

And these...

Twenty colors, thirteen color families--A person could get into serious trouble with Urban Organics, but life isn't about staying in a comfortable, safe, little beige box.  Life is stretching, striding, reaching, gasping--oh, wait, that's the gym--life is to LIVE!  Life is Bold Brick, Bee's Wax and Jersey Cream.  Life is Burnished Brandy, Earthen Jug and Armagnac.  Life is Maison Blanche and Crisp Linen--"classic and contemporary at once."  Life is Good--but tricky to pronounce.

Twenty-four hours after obtaining the samples, I've made a decision.  Bear in mind, this will be a long project as we're going to paint the entire house before we're finished.  But at least we're off to a roaring start:  We'll be painting  the chopping block Urbane Bronze--because we're not going to "overlook the power of brown".  Hold us back!

NEUTRAL NUANCE

Some months ago I mentioned that I wanted to spiff up our house just a bit, but over the years, I'd become much less daring and seemed paralyzed with fear at painting over our Sun City Grand beige.  So, yesterday morning, emboldened by just having attended a funeral with its reminders that time is indeed fleeting, drove from the church to Sherwin-Williams.  I'd been reading about new services S-W was offering that had sounded perfect and I wanted to check them out.

The salesperson led me to their new line of paint--The HGTV Color Collection--with which (according to the newspaper) a color-challenged person could mix and match paints within a palette to her heart's content and the end result would be really good.  I mentioned the article and the mixing/matching part, at which point the sales person looked at me and said, "Well, maybe two colors..." before her words trailed off.  How could she know?  But, undeterred, I looked over the eight different palettes each with twenty colors and quickly chose my favorite. Despite her obvious doubts, I knew I could successfully mix at least three of these colors plus a nice cream for the woodwork.  I was excited, I was daring, I was getting my moxie back!  Then out of  the eight palettes I learned I had chosen  Neutral Nuance.  Neutral Nuance!?!  I passed up Coastal Cool...Color Pizazz...Urban Organic for Neutral Nuance?!?  I had no idea it had gone so far...

I quietly left the store with my ten sample colors, promising to return soon, and slowly drove home thinking about the strange places life leads us.  I laid out my ten sample colors and I looked at my ten sample colors...   

Finally, I turned over my ten sample colors to read about them.  For example:  On the lower right (Kaffee) which HGTV kindly translates for people like me as BROWN, can be "incredibly rich and complex" and "imparts a sense of cultivated refinement."  I might like that to be me, but I don't think that's me.

Then there's Baguette which translates as GOLD.  "bold...subtle charm...understated glam."  Unfortunately, I haven't been "bold" for years although I think I have "understated" down pretty well.

Third from left at the top (Blonde) which translates as YELLOW--kind of like a bad dye job--had a certain appeal.  But too soon,  as a resident of an "active adult" community, I realize why I'm drawn to it.    YELLOW "stimulates recall" and God knows, we're all about stimulating recall here.  Actually, we'd like to stimulate a lot of things but it's just too late for some of it.

OK--enough!  I trashed  Neutral Nuance and I'll be going back to Sherwin-Williams tomorrow morning to pick up Urban Organic!  And--watch out little sales person because I just might mix/match and do other things with all twenty of those Urban Organic colors!  Be careful and get out of the way!! 

CACTUS FLOWER

One of our patio cacti has been working toward blossoming ever since we returned from our Midwest Marathon and she finally pulled it off this morning.

She amazes me every year.  Early in the morning the blooms pop out--totally oversized for their stems--but it's a short life and by evening they're sad little droopers.

In the meantime, however, the bees have gathered from far and wide and are enjoying a very good day.  Unfortunately, in Arizona it is said that all bees have been Africanized and are mean as dirt.  The aftermath of this next picture sent me scurrying for the door.

MAPS ON THE WALL

This most lovely of pictures is page three of Pottery Barn's February 2011 catalog.  I love Pottery Barn catalogs, look forward to receiving Pottery Barn catalogs, and devour them at the first opportunity.  With great anticipation I opened this issue--which obviously exposed page three immediately and exclaimed, "Holy Cow!  Maps on the wall!"  Then I mused, "Maps on the wall..."  Finally I shouted to myself, "MAPS ON THE WALL!!"

I know about maps on the wall.  I know all about maps on the wall.  Back in the early 1970s I pasted maps onto the wall of our little dining area.  National Geographic maps in my case (free with the magazine), not "old nautical maps and illustrations" as recommended by Pottery Barn, but maps nonetheless.  I was gutsy in those days, but now I'm extremely concerned as to when I lost that fearless creativity and began to quiver each time I consider changing our paint color from light beige to medium beige.  I'm absolutely paralyzed with anxiety that I will totally screw up, and it seems impossible that I did what I did over the years to my houses, and never lost a minute's worth of sleep.

Now, just in case you're thinking "Yeah sure, you put maps on your wall and were creative at some point in your life"--here's proof.  I believe this photo was dated April 10, 1974--Daughter Denise's twelfth birthday.  Take a look...

These were the days when Denise was known as "Denise the Great" by her two younger sisters--Mickie on the left and Kristi.  But, ignore those cute young children for the moment, and please note the maps, the two "nautical" pictures hung at "navel" (get it?) level.  Maps...ships...blue accents!?!  I was good in those days--coordinated in those days and--Oh, Good Lord--I was preggers in those days!

As silly as it sounds, this situation is really a serious concern for me.  In 1974--actually, even a few years before--I could have worked for Pottery Barn, had there been a Pottery Barn.  It truly bothers me that I've lost that spark, that daring, that confidence.  We're going to keep this issue on the table and work through it...for some reason, this seems important!