|
||||
|
Today we took down the garland and packed up the tree. Now, before moving non-holiday decorations back into their places, we are observing a moment of silence for the sad, empty corner where our Most Favoritist Tree Ever stood.
And we’re waiting for creative suggestions from Mrs. . . . → Read More: A Moment of Silence for The Corner That Held The Tree Sisterhood, I’m going to be very honest with you: for the first time ever in the history of The Other Such Household, I’m totally in love with our Christmas tree. Like, sit-and-gaze-lovingly-into-its-many-glittery-branches LOVE. Like, encourage-The-Child-to-rearrange-the-bottom-over-and-over-again-because-I-adore-seeing-her-next-to-it, two-of-my-fave-sights-in-one-place LOVE. Like, I-don’t-care-if-it-stays-up-til-May LOVE. Like, I-am-now-going-to-subject-you-to-multiple-pictures-of-it LOVE. I’ve never felt this way . . . → Read More: The Other Such Tree Project Number 5, the final project, the living room. In the beginning there was a great open space:
I did what I could with it . . .
. . . which, after painting and new carpet, was basically to just move our stuff into it. . . . → Read More: Project No. 5: Warm Living Once upon a time I met a boy who was a much, much better cook than I. Some things have not changed. And yet, as you now know, I am set to unleash my inexperience on a large group of friends. Tonight. WOOOO! I’ve spent a couple of . . . → Read More: Project No. 4: The Other Such Kitchen There was a day back in which there was no Marge. Not here anyway. And on that sad, lonely, pre-Marge day–that day back before the walls and floor had even been prepared for the likes of a Marge–the dining room looked thusly:
Enough dwelling on . . . → Read More: Project No. 3: A Room Befitting A Marge As simply put as anything ever is around here: The guest room started as . . .
. . . and has been converted into something a little less, well, young-local-football-team-loving-boy’s (or painter’s-tape-loving-person’s? Because truly, when we taped off the baseboards last year, impossible to tell where wall . . . → Read More: Project No. 2: In the Interest of Well-Rested Grandparents Nine months of living in a blank canvas (or, you know, a decade spanning four houses) and a girl begins to realize that if things are ever going to adorn her walls she is going to need help and motivation. Motivation (or at least its blood-relative, inclination) came in the form . . . → Read More: Project No. 1: Whole Lotta Polka 
Two lessons I’ve carried forward from the two men who had the greatest influences on my childhood: First, from my maternal grandfather: order what you want, but eat what you order. I cannot even begin to count how many times I heard that. (And I lived it, so if I . . . → Read More: Life Lesson: Being Very Sure I Want To Eat It Sometimes I think it would be best if I just threw it all out there at one time, a keyboard gushing of every aspect of the things I’m dreaming up, so then I could pick it apart with your help and sort it all out somewhere OUTSIDE of my brain. Because the conversations going on . . . → Read More: The Plan, The Plan, The (Ever-Changing) Plan |
||||
|
Copyright © 2009-2012 - All Rights Reserved |
||||
