it's a black (and white) thing

I wish I had taken more "before" pictures of what our house looked like when we bought it, because it was so much uglier than I remember in my mind. Take our hall bathroom, for example. What you can't see in this picture is how the top of the pedestal sink was precariously balanced on its pedestal (or perhaps you can see it...look at the gap). The toilet leaked and a warning scribbled in pencil on a piece of paper wrapped around it--look closely--told us not to flush. And the tile? Blech!

Alex got his demo on so quickly in this mess of a room that by the time I arrived with my camera it was stripped down to its stinky bones (uneven floor and all). I watch a lot of Fixer Upper on HGTV, so I was psyched to see the shiplap Alex had uncovered. I wanted to salvage it as an accent wall, but, alas, it was not meant to be. It only covered about 2/3 of the wall and didn't make its way all the way over to the shower tile. We were on a tight deadline--remember how we had to walk outdoors to use the restroom for a week or so?--so I let my dreams of shiplap flutter away.

This is a photo I snapped on my phone the day the tile was laid. Happy. Happy. Joy. Joy. In the end, I took the black and white theme as far as I could starting with the black hexagon floor tile and white subway tile with black grout. You can't see it from the pictures here, but the white shower curtain has a thick black border at the bottom. The top 2/3 of the bathroom is painted white while the bottom 1/3 is black with an accent rugby stripe that wraps around the entire room. It wasn't until Alex uncovered our weird Elvis photograph while unpacking the casita, however, that the room really came together. I love it so much I would almost shower in there myself.

the butterfly effect

I'm glad that I've been given the gift of having houses "speak" to me because, looking back, our tiny hallway had nothing going for it when we bought this place. Except that arch. It was the arch that spoke to me, and I knew I could glam it up with our antique chandelier and an accent wall. 

I knew from the start the wall needed wallpaper. I also knew that after Alex and I "experimented" in hanging wallpaper ourselves when I was six months pregnant at our house in Charlotte, this time I would call in the experts. Factoring in the labor costs associated with my "vision," I had to do some thrifting to find the solution that would bring it to life. The result was a remnant roll of fancy Osborne & Little wallpaper that I found on eBay for about one-third of the retail price. You can find everything on eBay; I swear by it.

So once again, I give you a space that went from totally drab to totally fab. Actually...strike that for a moment. If our bar cart were completely stocked the hallway would be totally fab. Right now it's just so-so fab. 

my balls look better

Hey guys, guess what! I have a picture of our house to show you!

I think my contractor said it best when he asked me "Where do you get these ideas of yours?" I wish I had the answer--or maybe I don't because it makes me sound "artsy" and "creative" to design on the fly--but honestly sometimes things just pop into my head. When it comes to most things in life, I am not spontaneous, and I am not a "fly by the seat of my pants kind of gal" (even though that is one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite movies).

In regular (non-decorating) life I like to make plans, and I don't mind if those plans change as long as someone gives me advanced notice of those plans changing. I do not fly by the seat of my pants. In decorating, however, I do fly by the seat of my pants. Except the phrase I like to use, which is arguably odder and perhaps sounds clairvoyant, is that something "spoke to me." I don't have a problem hearing these decorating voices, but they kind of drive Alex crazy when he doesn't get the memo that now we're painting the dining room ceiling black, for instance.

Me: I don't know. I'm into this black thing right now. I just want to paint the ceiling black.

Alex: You said everything in the house was going to be white.

Me: I know, but that was before.

Alex: Before what?

Me: I don't know. I'm just feeling the black right now. I'm into the whole contrast. Just don't ask me. Whatever. Paint it black.

Alex: [Eyes rolling behind my back. No words, but he's thinking "crazy bitch."]

So this is what happened that time I bought black paint for the interior doors (that was part of the original plan, by the way) and then we painted the fireplace (on the fly decision because it was speaking to me)...

The dining room went from drab:

To fab:

The balls are another story that involves one dropping from the ceiling and hitting Alex in the head before shattering on the dining room table. "At least it didn't happen to one of the children," is what I said. "That's what happens when you buy stuff from China on eBay," was Alex's take on the situation. Either way, we got a replacement (from China on eBay) and then blew out the socket when we hung it for the second time. "I really don't care. They look nicer than those other crap-ass lights," I said. "It would be nice if they worked," countered Alex. #formoverfunction

chalk it up

One of the better ideas I've had, in my humble opinion, was covering our hideous refrigerator (pictured above) in chalkboard paint. The fridge is old, loud, rusted and the doors stick. There's also a weird spill/stain covering the bottom shelf, which I try to ignore every time I'm in there reaching for something, but buying a refrigerator isn't in the plans right now. Part of the reason is I want to wait until "Phase 2" of our renovation, when we tackle the kitchen, because I will probably change my mind 100 times before we get there. Or rather, I will definitely change my mind 100 times. I simply can't make a commitment to a refrigerator that may or may not fit the design scheme of my future kitchen. In the meantime, I needed and inexpensive fix because starting at that beige box was driving me insane!

It turns out that a simple coat (two actually) of chalkboard paint and the imagination of your children is all you need to spruce up the ugliest appliance in the house. I no longer shudder when I walk into the kitchen, and the sticking doors don't bother me quite as much as they used to. The weird spill still grosses me out, but it's on the bottom shelf, which I never use anyway, and I figure staying the course of ignoring it will eventually make it go away...right?

the demo days

Today I handed our contractor a check, and we parted ways. I'm not gonna lie--it was kind of sad saying goodbye. It's such a strange relationship you have with your contractor. For two weeks (in our case) you're on the phone with this guy every day. He's asking you questions like what color grout you want for the tile; you're looking to him for advice; you're also cursing his name behind his back. It's a complicated relationship. His "guys" are in your house every day. They have a key and let themselves in...they know your children and laugh at your husband's elementary Spanish when he tries to crack jokes. And then...poof! It's over, and they've moved on to their next relationship.

I'm not suggesting that I'm pining for the days when there was a dumpster in driveway and ductwork littering our front yard, but I am suggesting that I might come up with a few more "projects" just to check in with my contractor every few months. I told you--it's complicated.

80s hair

Today was the day that I woke up and couldn't stand looking at my stringy, scruffy hair for one more day! I always do this (and it often results in a serious chopping of the locks). I don't know when I reached the point in my life where things that used to be relaxing--like haircuts and pedicures--have become chores. I guess because my free time away from the children is so infrequent and valuable that I would rather spend it at the grocery store, where I can squeeze my avocados in peace, than sitting in chair at the salon. P.S. I hate the grocery store.

But back to the cut...another funny thing about haircuts and me is that I frequently end up looking like some 80s rock star. There was Pat Benatar in college (horrific!) and, more recently, Joan Jett (meh.). And to be clear, I'm not talking about the rock star when she (or he) was totally cool in the 80s, but the later version of the washed-up, aging star who's trying to hold onto the glory days and the glory hair. I get a definite Bret Michaels circa "Rock of Love" vibe from my new 'do. I just need to slap on a bandana and call it a day.

greetings from austin

The famous Greetings from Austin mural painted on the side of Roadhouse Relics on South 1st Street is, to state the obvious, an Austin icon. The mural recently underwent an extensive renovation, so we stopped by to take a look when the sun finally returned to us earlier this week. My idea of a photo shoot with the kids was quickly squelched when A) Tillie fell asleep in the car on the way over and B) several other families also thought it would be a great idea to take pictures in front of the sign.

Below are pictures from the first time we visited the sign two years ago followed by two days ago. After I snapped a few photos of the kids, I amused myself by taking pictures of others taking pictures...

spring break revisited

Remember a couple of months ago when I was bragging about all of my spring break projects? I am happy to report that I have finally completed spring break project #3: the IKEA Malm Dresser in the girls' bedroom.

It took such a long time to complete that my enthusiasm for this project has waned--or that might have something to do with the crooked drawer pulls (see below)--but here's what went down in fifty words or less:

1. Bought IKEA dresser.
2. Painted IKEA dresser (Benjamin Moore, Elephant Tusk, Semi Gloss, three coats after one coat of primer).
3. Bought vintage, mid-century drawer pulls on eBay.
4. "Installed" drawer pulls.
5. Stepped back and looked at crooked drawer pull on top left drawer.
6. Decided not to care about crooked drawer pulls.

Behold the before and after:

sunshine in my corner

Nobody puts Baby in the corner, but you can put me in this corner in our living room any day of the week. An extension of my "reading corner" idea that never quite came to fruition in the apartment last year, this is my favorite spot in the house. In an ideal world, I sit in this chair with my sunrise coffee and watch the morning light pour in through the windows. In the afternoon, I sip my midday coffee while reading a great book (the girls are napping in this scenario while Catcher is playing quietly by himself). Below is my view from this corner:

From here I can watch the leisurely traffic on the street and see the postman deliver the mail.

I can also keep my eye on whatever is going on in the dining room from this seat. I'm not sure how much trouble Catcher can get himself into while doing a 200-piece puzzle at the table, but just in case...

The only thing missing from my corner was a little bit of sunshine to reflect the actual sun coming in across the room. I had been dreaming about a sunburst mirror to spruce up the naked wall, and then I found this one on Gilt. I "saved" more on it than I spent, so I figured it was a decent deal.

Voila! Sunshine in my corner.

does this thing turn on?

It wasn't a spring break project per se, but a project that Alex and I had been thinking about for a while. The sconces over our mantle were horribly outdated, slightly tacky (even with the fancy black shades, haha) and pretty cheap [looking]. Take a look:

They weren't so offensive when viewed from across the room, but up close even the faceted bulb couldn't hide their poor quality. After searching for a few weeks, I finally settled on the style below, which I found at Restoration Hardware. I liked the simple look of the sconces, but I was really annoyed that they charged me $17 for shipping. And I'm clearly not over it yet since I'm writing about it.

They arrived last week while Alex was away, so installing them was high on his to-do list when he was home for three days this week. Here's a look at the process (which actually went a lot smoother and quicker than I had anticipated): 

This is what Alex found when he removed the old lights. I was kind of scared. I don't know much--and by much, I mean anything--about wires and electricity, so it seemed complicated to me.

Alex wasn't worried. Once upon a time he removed the ceiling fixture in Catcher's bedroom in our house in Charlotte and replaced it with his great-grandmother's antique chandelier. This was simple, he assured me.

Old lights off: check. Time to install the new ones.

Tillie looks on with anticipation/doubt. I think she's sizing up the new look of the mantle versus the old. Check out the before and after:

Better? Here's another look, close up:

Once the new lights were installed, however, we ran into a little snafu--there's no on/off switch. I was in the kitchen making lunch for Tillie when Alex called out to me, "Does this thing turn on?" I thought it was a silly question considering a) it's a light and b) he was the one standing there looking at it and not me, but then I thought about the $17 shipping charge and got angry all over again. "It better turn on," I replied, "if they're charging me $17 shipping." I don't know what the $17 shipping has to do with the lights functioning or not, but clearly it's a sore spot with me.

To answer the question, yes, the lights turn on. However, "turning on" means screwing the lightbulb in until the light flickers and then stabilizes, and "turning off" means grabbing an oven mit--or some other means of protecting your fingers from the burning bulb--until the light flickers out. Remember: righty tighty, lefty loosey.

spring break project #2

This was an easy one--painting Catcher's nightstand. It took forever, however, because I could never carve out the time to drive down to the Benjamin Moore paint store for the perfect red, which Catcher picked out himself, Million Dollar Red.

Once again I launched into a project without taking a proper "before" shot, but you can see the nightstand in the background behind Tillie.

Here it is after one coat of primer...

and the final after four coats of Million Dollar Red.

Actually, this isn't really the final final because apparently I put the handle on all wonky (Alex fixed it for me), but at least you can see the color. I have a quart of red paint that's about 7/8ths full, so there may be some more Million Dollar Red in my future...some day...when I'm bored.