A Sun-Drenched Life June 17, 2008

My tiny house - everyone says that, but I seriously mean itty bitty - has an even more tiny kitchen, which judging by the exposed pipes, tubes, and wires upon moving in, once also housed a washer and dryer.

From what I could tell, there was a spot for a washer ONLY, and for months I tried to solve the mystery of how it all once fit. Was it a stackable unit, which someone later prohibited by building the shelves that are there now? (If so, thanks a lot.) Was the dryer installed IN FRONT of the kitchen doorway (where the hookup seems to be) causing prior inhabitants to leap over it upon entering? Honestly, I can only think that someone once kept a dryer on the back stoop.

Up to this point, we had been surviving on a combination of laundromats, friends’ washers and dryers, and hand washing our clothes - none of these the most accessible options, especially for those few months we were car-less. When you think of the slightly lazy taurean mindset the boy and I were born with, you could see how the mounds of laundry were about to overtake the house.

So, after nearly an entire year without a laundry room, I broke down and posted a cry for help under the “wanted” section of Craigslist.org.

—–

In my humble abode, I have room for a washer but no dryer, and am having a hell of a time finding someone willing to split up a pair. I’m on a budget, and do not need anything new - I just need something that works. This is your perfect chance to get rid of that old eye sore - I can even pick up! Help!

—-

Within an hour or so, I had 10 responses in my email box of people dying to practically give away their old washers so they could get new ones. Gotta love Craigslist.

I also had a response from someone looking for a dryer and asking if I found one if I didn’t mind delivering it to their house when I picked up my washer.

Yeah, um, no. But thanks.

So after a trek to procure our new appliance - including two flights of stairs and a borrowed hand truck - we got the brand new (old) washer hooked up snugly between my stove and refrigerator. I’m happy to say it works great and even created a little counter space, which was until now, non-existent.

There’s just one issue with my new set-up. I’m now line-dry girl.

I’ve got a good sized back yard with a privacy fence, so I’m not self conscious of the clothesline way of life. And honestly, with as hot as it’s been here lately, clothes dry in about 10 minutes. Plus, line drying saves more energy than using an electric dryer - not to mention running a dryer in my itsy bitsy house would make it so hot it’s unbearable.

I’m not complaining. There are perks. But I have to say, I went home on my lunch break today and felt as if I’d stepped into a different century. And I had a hell of a time finding the simple supplies one needs to dry their clothes outdoors. Clothespins for example. I had to visit three stores before I found them.

Another century, indeed.

I’m kind of liking it so far, though. I like how my clothes smell after being dried in the sun, and I feel like I’m channeling a prior life when I’m out there barefoot in the grass, drinking up the sunshine. I have to say it’s not bad. Not bad at all.

Then again, ask me after it rains.

Stir Crazy May 15, 2008

I’ve been thinking a lot about travel lately. With two friends vacationing in Budapest, and another two beginning their indefinite global trek in Indonesia, the view from my office on this rainy Thursday is looking a little bleak.

Sure, I can brew my coffee at my desk, clutch my mug between my cold hands and close my eyes, imagining I’m really sipping cafe au lait at a sidewalk cafe in Amsterdam. But soon the dull whir of the overzealous air conditioner and the incessant tapping of my coworkers fingers against their keyboards snap me back into reality.

At lunch, I’ll make a trip to the Farmer’s Market, with it’s strong smells of spices, coffee, and fresh herbs and produce, and its cafe that serves up everything from Asian vegetables to curried lentils to goat stew (no, I haven’t sampled that yet, though I’ve heard rave reviews). And while the diverse clientèle and flags from every possible country decorating the vast building may let me escape for a while, soon it will be back out to the sterile, concrete parking lot - back to the congestion that is DeKalb Industrial Boulevard. Back to the real world.

Later, when the business day is over, maybe I’ll put on my iPod, turn up some Brit Pop, and stare our through the rain. Maybe then I’ll be able to pretend I’m visiting London.

But for now I’m here, and I’m having an anywhere but here moment. Like I’m homesick for a place I’ve never visited. I want to see something new, and right now I’m feeling so dull, so monotonous, that I can’t even daydream of anything exciting.

I believe this is called ennui, no?

Snap Out of It! April 10, 2008

After writing that less than joyous post, I happened upon this:

Giggling hurts like hell right now. Still feels good though.

My Cup Runneth Over. Sort of. March 19, 2008

I’m back at work after a very LOOOONG two-week, um, vacation.

Yeah.

Anyway, I’m finding it difficult to get back into the swing of things, and have been relying more than a little on my soy lattes to get me through the day. I found this the other day and had to repost it. Just call it my serenity prayer.

Coffee is my shepherd; I shall not doze.
It maketh me to wake in green pastures, It leadeth me beyond the sleeping masses.
It restoreth my brain, It leadeth me in the paths of consciousness for it’s name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of sleep,
I will fear no artificial sweetener for thou art with me; Thy cream and thy sugar they comfort me.
Thou preparest a carafe before me in the presence of my zzz’s, Thou anointest my day with sunlight;
My cup runneth over.
Surely richness and flavor shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in the house of Cappuccino forever…

Let us sip… or whatever…

Mmmm … Kissable … January 21, 2008

I’ve often told the boy that if I were ever to leave him for another man, it would be Burt.

As in Burt’s Bees. The only other man who puts me in a kissing mood.

I’m addicted. Absolutely addicted. Not only is the lip balm wonderful (feels all tingly and not overly waxy, and it smells and tastes just slightly minty), but I’m beginning to experiment with the other products the company offers, and they are equally as fantastic.

Everything is completely natural, and whether or not you think those other products on the market containing mineral oil/petroleum jelly/what have you will one day prove detrimental to your health, it’s always good to be the safe side, right?

I fell pretty hard for Burt a few years back. And the more I learn about their company and their green initiatives, the harder I fall. For example:

~~~~~~~~~~

“Burt’s Bees maintains its founders’ green philosophies. Employees’ bonuses are based in part on how well the company meets energy conservation goals, and there are prime parking spaces for staff members
who drive hybrid cars or carpool. It buys offsets for 100 percent of its carbon emissions and is working toward a goal of sending no trash to landfills by 2020.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The above was taken from a New York Times article called “Can Burts Bees Turn Clorox Green?” (http://tinyurl.com/37xn2x)- a very intriguing, well-written article about the history of the environmentally-friendly company and its recent sale to Clorox. Go read, and decide for yourself what the answer to the title’s question is.

There’s also a cute little picture of Burt at the top. He seems to have been somewhat shafted in the various money-making moves of the company. But I’m still a Burt convert. Turkey coop or no.

It’s Snowing! January 16, 2008

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

I’m a Closet Oenophile January 16, 2008

Ok, so I’m not a closeted oenophile as much as I’m a fiscally-challenged one. I have a tiny little wine rack, not a wine cellar, and as of late it’s been filled with nothing but bottles of Two Buck Chuck.

(Don’t event try to knock it if you haven’t tried it …)

I watched Sideways again the other day, which embarrassingly causes me to over zealously swirl my glass of wine and sniff between each sip while I watch it. Yes, I’m THAT person.

But I once again took notice of a monologue in the middle of the film which I’ve always loved. It’s a response to the question “Why are you into wine?”

~~~~~~

I like to think about the life of wine. How it’s a living thing. I like to think about what was going on the year the grapes were growing; how the sun was shining; if it rained. I like to think about all the people who tended and picked the grapes. And if it’s an old wine, how many of them must be dead by now.

I like how wine continues to evolve, like if I opened a bottle of wine today it would taste different than if I’d opened it on any other day, because a bottle of wine is actually alive. And it’s constantly evolving and gaining complexity. That is, until it peaks, like your ‘61. And then it begins its steady, inevitable decline.

… and it tastes so fucking good.

~~~~~~

In vino veritas.

So Lovely by Candlelight November 22, 2007

I don’t envision this blog becoming a platform from which to push products, but if I find something I absolutely FALL IN LOVE WITH, I cannot help but share.

I recently had the pleasure of stumbling upon a line of fantastic candles, from Tyler Candle Company. I make candles, so I rarely buy them - if ever - as I cannot justify paying a retail price for something I can create at home from raw materials. These candles, however, have become an exception.

First off, they’re adorable (sweet little glass containers with cute little leopard print tins). But most of all they smell fabulous, and there is SO much variety.

I purchased three votives on Friday, and burned clean through them over the weekend - a sign I couldn’t live without them. So I went back to the shop on Monday and bought the same three scents in the 11 oz. jars. They are not going to waste, believe me.

I selected three different blends. Tyler - a beautiful green scent that currently perfumes the area right outside my kitchen; Diva - luxurious (and dare I say, seductive) enough to dwell in my boudoir; and Paris - a delicate and pretty floral that makes my bathtime all the more relaxing. Read the notes of these, as well as the dozen other blends Tyler offers here: http://www.englishrose.com/tycacofr.html

And I cannot in good conscience talk about these candles without mentioning the shop where I found them: the brand new Vivid Boutique in downtown Decatur. If you have a chance, please visit this adorable store. The lovely proprietor, Christina, is no doubt getting bored with my dropping in on my lunch break every day. She makes her own jewelry also, which is dainty and beautiful.

Ok, enough of the upsell. Check it out for yourself.

The Best Part of Waking Up November 1, 2007

I’ve written about my caffeine addiction and love for java on this blog enough already that I should rename it Strictly for Coffee. I guess I get my best ideas in the morning in the line at Starbucks. Well, maybe not my best ideas, but ideas.

When I get a cup in the morning, the first thing I do is bring it up to my nose, close my eyes, and take a loooooong whiff. This puts me right in the morning. I can hardly think of a more fantastic scent, and it makes me enjoy the taste that much more when I bring the cup to my lips. Then I drink it slowly, enjoying every last drop. It’s one of my favorite parts of the day, honestly. My little treat.

I never see anyone else do this. (They probably look at me and wonder what’s wrong with the “special” girl enraptured with her beverage.) I think a lot of people look at coffee more as an upper than as something to enjoy, mainlining it rather than experiencing it. Poor souls. I may look ridiculous while sipping my dark roast, but I’m in heaven.

I think most people look at food in the same way, actually. Not as an upper necessarily, but strictly as fuel. Somehow we were taught that this is the appropriate way to view food. It isn’t for enjoyment, it’s a necessity. Just eat it (nothing too tasty, now) and go about your day. If it tastes good, chances are it’s not good for you anyway.

Book after book has been written about the French Paradox; how is it that the French (and other European people as well) eat cheese, heavy cream, bread, chocolate, drink wine, and yet are healthier (and certainly thinner) than their American counterparts? All the while we live on Lean Cuisines and Diet Coke and all manners of processed foods which promise to increase our health and trim our waistlines, and still we’re one of the fattest countries in the world.

I like what Michael Pollan had to say in The Omnivore’s Dilemma — perhaps it’s really the American Paradox. How is it that a culture so obsessed with the science and health of life are less healthy overall than most European cultures?

Perhaps it is that the acts that make up our daily lives are made to feel like work and not enjoyment? Stress can wreak havoc on your body, manifesting in nearly any way possible. So how can it be healthy to worry so much about food? Why not cook a nice meal, sit down at a table, and let yourself savor every bite you put in your mouth? I bet you’ll eat less than if you were shoveling tasteless food into your mouth in front of the TV.

Food (and drink) for thought.

But They’re Just So Pretty October 31, 2007

So I moved into my house in July, and there are STILL boxes I haven’t unpacked. I know this happens to other people - whether they admit it or not. Guess I feel a little lazy, but I’m ok with it for the most part.

I’ve been doing things around the house little by little on the weekends. I’m protective of my time off. I take it easy, drinking in every second spent in my comfy little bed in my comfy little house. Now that I have a laptop it may be even more difficult to get me out from under the covers, as the entire world will be at my fingertips without leaving the room. I’ve mentioned the Taurean thing before, and for anyone who is or knows one, you realize that left to our own devices we could lounge in bed all day.

My sister (Piscean though she may be) told me recently that she and her husband “play John and Yoko” on the weekends, hardly ever leaving the bed. I thought this was the cutest image ever, once I got that scary Annie Leibowitz picture out of my brain.

It’s a damn good thing the boy and I have 9-5 jobs (ok, does anyone REALLY work 9-5? It’s 8:30-6 for me, and I feel cheated), ’cause his birthday falls under the same star sign and we might never get things done otherwise.

So anyway — housework. Right. I’ve been getting it done, just taking my sweet time. Rearrange furniture one weekend. Hang things up the next. This weekend, I finally got around to unpacking a box full of my perfume bottles, and realized I might just have more than anyone I know.

I’ve always thought the idea of having one “signature” scent was very romantic. It’s the whole Marilyn Monroe-type thing, how when a reporter asked her what she wore to bed at night, she replied “Chanel No. 5.”

It’s feminine and, to me, shows a sense of individuality and comfort in your own skin to sport one scent your whole life. At the moment I have about five “signature” scents. And several more I can’t throw aways because I might start wearing them in the future.

I can’t throw them away. For one, they’re pretty. But even more than that, I love putting on a scent I haven’t worn for years and getting that sentimental deja vu sort of feeling that transports me back to high school or college or that time I worked at that little shop in town, etc. There is a serious tie between scent and memory.

I’ve always had a hard time committing to one thing that “represents” me - be it style, taste, ambitions, or what have you. That’s one of the reasons it took me seven years to get through college. I’m embarrassed by the number of majors I had over that span of time. For someone who likes to psycho-analyze and define herself so much, I sure do like the freedom to switch things around.

So I’m keeping my vanity full of perfume bottles. Practical? No. Extravagant? Possibly. But they sure do make the boudoir quite pretty. And that much harder to leave on the weekends.