Sorry I disappeared this summer.
I was on the biggest Joy Project of them all.
This is where I went.
In the foot steps of our parents, who both own random and glorious wee houses in the middle of nowhere, Best Friend Karen and I have plans to buy a cabin when we’re older.
It’s going to be cooky, and communal, and we’ll have christmas lights up all year-round. We’ll probably have old-timey pictures on the walls of people we don’t even know, and a record player, which is mandatory for any decent eccentric second home. But it will also have a stockpile of really good wine and plenty of books, and probably an expensive grill to make fish tacos on. Her children will chase hummingbirds, I’ll take as many baths as I chose. It will be glorious!
Some people dream of mansions and expensive cars–we just want something that smells of fireplace and whiskey to call our very own.
To feed the dream while we save, Karen sent me this wonderful website: freecabinporn.com It’s safe for work I promise. And by “safe for work”, I mean you might get lost in a daydream about living somewhere peaceful and quiet and accidentally miss a deadline and then perhaps get fired or at least receive a stern talking to by your Boss, but it certainly doesn’t include any naked ladies.
All images from freecabinporn.com
Love the Eames.
Love Ice Cube.
Love Random Couplings.
This is Pure Perfection.
My neighbor’s trash blew into our yard and it was all cat food, tiny bottles of liquor and old R&B cassette tapes. I’m not sure if I should judge them, or invite them over to be my best friend.
It’s funny conundrum that I as I continue growing older I keep the previous ages inside me.
Sometimes, when I have a bad day, all I want is to curl up and have someone play with my hair like when I was three years old.
And lately I’ve been dressing more like the 21-year-old me again.
I feel like one of those Russian dolls with all the little dolls stacked inside of it. And I certainly never feel “just 30”.
Today is an especially good example of this phenomena.
I was just gifted a sweet wooden ladder for my “hay loft” in my shed. It gets hidden away in a secret location so only invited guests can use it (no boys allowed). It makes my secret clubhouse complete! That puts me at about 10, right?
And today I am getting insulation put on the house. I got the most energy efficient level I could and am hoping for a tax write off (I am also getting my water heater wrapped). And I’m really excited! I’ve been planning for this since I bought the house. Which makes me feel somewhere in the neighborhood of 55.
It’s confusing to feel a different age all the time. But I am hoping it will all average out to a really kick ass 30-year-old (with the wrinkle free skin of a child of course!).
I blame it on my tiny hamster arms. Some (those with tiny hamster brains) have suggested it is “because I am a woman.” I am beginning to believe them. (I also cannot pack a trunk. Just sayin.)
If getting a regular man-type around the house would mean having tightly-wound cords and tangle-free hoses until death do we part, sign me up.
PS: That photo is my best attempt at wrangling the cord and it took me lots of swearing and one sore shoulder to even get that close…
PPS: If you’re wondering why I am so obsessed with extension cords it’s because I am an environmentalist and own an electric lawn mower; hence regular and weekly fighting with the cord. It is not Freudian. At least I don’t think so.
PPSS: Suddenly I am hungry for a banana…
I’ve purchased special bras and tight pants and painful shoes and way too many hair products all in the hope that it would attract the opposite sex. But mostly all it got me was greasy hair and maybe some inappropriate glances (my eyes are up here buddy!). Men mostly seem oblivious…
But hot damn, do I get a nice lawn and suddenly every dude that comes over perks up and takes notice.
“Lawn looks good.”
“Can I come over and mow your grass?”
“Hey baby, what kind of fertilizer are you working with?”
It’s like being cat-called at a construction zone. Only, it’s grass.
I don’t get it. Seriously, I’d tear the whole thing out and add some xeriscaping if it weren’t such a man magnet.
I’m getting rid of my wonder bras and learning all sorts of sexy words like “aerating” and “sprinkler system”. Oooh, ya…I love how trim those edges…