D-I-Why am I here?

Lamp Graveyard

So, I have a problem. I never seem to be able to find a lamp I like. I know, it's a horrible problem. Someone should do something to stop this tragedy from continuing. I mean look at these poor lamps - rejected and doomed to waste away the best years of their lives wrapped in plastic in the attic. Like little corpses I'm hiding from the neighbors. I had to draw the line somewhere, but I also needed light in the living room.

A New Hope

None of these rejects would work. So to make a long boring story short, I bought two more lamps. Plain white and silver lamps. I had to promise myself that these lamps would be the last. They were simple, bright, and on sale. This madness had to stop. With much anticipation, I brought them home and immediately assembled them. To my utter dismay, they still aren't right. Yep, I said it. I contemplated taking them back, but decided I needed instead to take matters into my own crafty hands. I need these lamps to finally pull together the mismatched collection of pieces I have in that room. This mission must not fail! I have decided that if I can't find the right lamps, then I shall make them. Thus, I have decided to cover the new shades with the fabric of my choice Martha Stewart style. 

Here's the fabric I bought. I love it. I have never felt this way about a fabric before, and wonder if my joy borders on inappropriate. I had a bad dream the other day that the fabric arrived in the mail, and I had bought the wrong print. Instead of bunnies, it was covered in retro line drawings of little business men in suits. Some of the business men had rabbit heads. This is the stuff of my nightmares now. Someone help me.

Bird Brained

I like this pic and am thinking about getting it printed and framed and hanging it in my living room. I took it at my parents' house this Christmas after the biggest snow fall Virginia Beach has seen since the 80's. My mom's backyard is a treasure trove of random statuary, shrubbery, and wildlife. I wandered through the yard (or "the forest" as my niece and nephew used to refer to it when they were but tiny toddlers exploring a half acre plot of land that seemed endless to them) snapping all kinds of frames of snow resting on dried out leaves or stuck to holiday decorations. There was no lack of subject matter there, but I liked this little guy the best - even over the Tonka trucks buried in snow that I thought could be some kind of deep metaphor for some kind of deep thought I hadn't come up with yet.
So here again I have yet another photo to frame. And yet again still, a photo of a bird. My question is this: if there are crazy cat ladies, can there be crazy bird ladies too? Even if the birds are only in "art" form? I have statues, knick knacks, paintings, and photos of birds all over. Even on me. I don't have a single room in Little Blue that isn't adorned in some way with birdies. My home is an artistic aviary. I guess a more apt question would be: when is too much really too much?

Down Time

         
With the advent of a new year comes one of my least favorite chores: taking down the Christmas stuff. The house always seems so plain Jane once all the festoons are removed and the decor goes back to the not - quite - there - yet rustic/contemporary charm I'm trying to create here.  My environment is very important to me, always has been. I try to surround myself with loads of  fun yet aesthetically pleasing accoutrement in order to combat those feelings of boredom and staid complacence. Maybe I should have been a decorator. That's not to say that I think I'm so fabulous at it that people will want me to dictate their surroundings, but rather it sounds like a fun job for me. Especially after moving into this 1982 time capsule house. I've now grown quite fond of painting and sanding and hanging and redoing. In fact, my husband is in the other room repairing a sink poorly installed by the previous owners. A note to anyone who might be reading this: don't be an a-hole homeowner who can't admit they can't fix something and try to fix it anyway. Bad karma. But I digress...the Christmas decorations must come down today!
         

No matter how much I love them, no matter how much nicer I think the house, or as we affectionately refer to it, Little Blue, looks donned in it's gay apparel, I should move on. Christmas is gone again for another three hundred and some odd days. However the time marches on, as it were, and the holiday season gets closer and closer each time, despite the fact that it always seems to conclude faster and faster. Now it's time to hang up the Santa hat, go back to work, and wait for another reason to be merry. There's always the blooming and rebirth of Spring to look forward to, but let's not get into that again. There's Valentine's Day, which as much as I'm still gaga for my husband, we don't put too much stock into anymore. St. Patrick's Day? I do love beer, and green is my favorite color. I guess I could spin that old yarn about how everyday is a holiday and how every moment is precious, but seriously folks. Let's not delude ourselves for the sake of the kiddies and self-help gurus. There's no song called "Jingle All The Way To Wednesday" and trash day doesn't have a picturesquely jolly  and fur trimmed mascot who gives people stuff. Although come to think of it, maybe it should.