Cote de Texas pointed out these really lovely Ballard Design Small Gourd Lamps by Suzanne Kasler. Lovely. Also, $139 each, which, let's face it, is dreamy.
But there are a few others rattling around like this gal with her hands on hips from Vaughn (technically, Ceramic Vase with Curly Handles) that I like better. At four times the price. And I keep wondering if later, say fifteen minutes after I plug them in, I won't really see the difference anymore. That the perfectly lovely gourd lamps will leave a little room for the purchase of something that might be really terrific. Thoughts?
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
But I didn't know how to frame it. Then, flipping through March's Elle Decor, there it was.
It just drops in your lap sometimes, you know? You're not thinking about framing at all, in fact, you're thinking about how you've messed up the Spring Break flights and your husband is going to be furious (he wasn't) and there it is. The answer.
I didn't want anything lighter around the painting and I wanted the frame to have the same linear, blocky feel. And I am very, very fortunate to have Dolphin Gallery nearby as Scott and John tinkered happily until we were all satisfied.
Now I just have to order the grasscloth and the fabric and the rug and the ottoman.
Special thanks to designer Steven Johankneckt for unknowingly providing the inspiration, image top, in Elle Decor, March 2012, photography William Abranowicz; produced by Anita Sarsidi.
Monday, March 26, 2012
We met a couple of weeks ago. We were both at the River Market Antique Mall and I passed her idling in a booth at the top of the stair on the second floor. We said "hello," though I was in a rush and moved on without exchanging pleasantries.
She made an impression. Well-built, stable, but a little wobbly under pressure, I thought we might have a few things in common. When I returned home from vacation I went back and asked her if she'd like to stay with us for a while. She said yes; she has an adventurous spirit. I paid her back rent, twenty-four dollars, and brought her home to meet the boys. They think she is swell.
Ready for a fresh start, wanting to put her past behind her, she's looking for a new name. We are open to suggestions.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
We arrived in Florida late on undesirable flights due to a mix-up I had made with dates. Because of the mix-up and its late discovery, we stayed the first night in a hotel in Sarasota that resembled a Quentin Tarantino movie set less the contrived lighting.
It's a short drive to Boca Grande from Sarasota. Driving on Florida highways always makes me wonder where people live. Real people. The people who are accountants and bankers and not fishing guides and small shop owners. I have a skewed perception of coastal highways that open up to beach towns with nothing in between.
The last few years we have arrived around the same time and driven straight to a favorite haunt for lunch. This year, as the waitress began to hand us our menus Bill said, "I think we pretty much know what we want." "How many years in Boca?" We both turned to look at our oldest and said, "Fifteen. Give or take a few in the middle." And I wondered, "Don't you know us? Don't we look familiar to you? We belong here."
We spent the day at the beach. When the boys grew hungry and headed back to eat I stayed to finish Middlemarch, George Eliot treating me better than Austen ever has. At the house I showered with different soap and towels that smelled wrong and blew my hair with a dryer without enough heat. All of these things would be unforgivable at home, vexing and bothersome. At home these details are reminders of shortcomings, of things undone, errands not run. They are reminders of an imperfect life. On vacation they are negligible. Nuance. Insignificant compared to the sun and the release.
I have learned small things about myself on vacation. I like to walk to town for the paper and coffee and bread. That fresh blueberries are delicious. That having music on during the day is delightful. Being away is wonderful in its own right, but the best of it is coming back better.
Heavens, I did not mean to be away so long. A couple of projects kept me before we left and then I tried to unplug as much as possible while we were gone. My apologies to Iris and anyone who noticed my absence and was concerned. All is well, if somewhat messy and unorganized. I should be back on track next week.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
|“Why do a house in just one style? Being narrow-minded is not the message you want to pass on to your children.”|
Do pick up the issue if you haven't as it focuses on designers' own homes which tend to be my favorites. Suzanne Kasler in Atlanta. David Easton, a long-time favorite, in Tulsa, my hometown. The issue would only have been better had it come wrapped in a red bow.
Image, Architectural Digest, April 2012, produced by Howard Christian; photography Simon Watson.
By the way, AD pays me for what I do there, but not for what I do here. What I do here is of my own accord. In case you were wondering.
Monday, March 5, 2012
"People sacrifice for the iPhone. But does anyone think, 'I'm going to take my whole budget and buy a Lobmeyr glass and drink my orange juice every day from rock crystal so I feel nuanced and privileged - and my guests can sit on the floor.'?" Murray Moss in the WSJ here.
Image via Moss. This glass is Lobmeyr, though not a juice glass, obviously. I like to pitch traffic to the source of inspiration when I can and this was the best glass there for here. Also, it's name is Patrician, which seemed appropriate, and it is a beer glass and there was a time when beer and I hung out together quite a bit.