It's funny when boys decorate. I'm not talking about boys like David Hicks or Tony Duquette or Nick Olsen, but boys like my husband. When I first met Alex and saw the apartment he shared with his coworker in Spanish Harlem, I discovered that he had no less than 20 baseball caps (of various allegiances) hung on tiny nails meticulously "decorating" all four walls in his room. "Interesting," was all I could think to myself. "I guess he likes hats...or grids or something."
Rewind several years to where Alex lined the walls of his boyhood room with Sports Illustrated covers; fast forward a couple decades to where Alex and I are married and he starts a bobblehead collection, lining them up on the mantle. Before we were trying to sell our house, he lined the top of the kitchen cabinets with empty vodka bottles. While a Stoli Orange bottle has a certain appeal, an empty one--next to a regular Stoli next to Stoli Vanilla--starts to have a certain Leaving Los Vegas appeal.
This past Sunday, when I returned from a weekend in New York City with my sister, I discovered that Alex had once again tapped into his linear decorating skills by lining Catcher's "guys" up on his crib. And while I find it weird, I have to admit that this is the first of Alex's arrangements that I've actually found somewhat artistic. Just don't tell him, because who knows what's next in the lineup.
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