Pancakes and French Fries » House & Home

Updates to the Living Room

Jules — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 08:00:39 +0000

As more people hear about The William Morris Project (thank you to all who are spreading the word) I realized that the biggest mess around here is my blog! If someone were to stop by via link to one of my William Morris posts, their first thought would undoubtedly be, “Huh?” I have no explanation, no links to previous posts, and no way for regular readers to track what I’ve done.

Oops!

I’ve also done a few projects around the house and don’t have a picture to show for my work. Double oops!

Take the living room, for example.

A few weeks ago I uploaded these images to Craigslist because, as my list so clearly states, I wanted to sell the mid century china cabinet we used in the dining room. Except we moved it into the living room to break up the world largest expanse of blank wall. Likewise with the two framed photographs.

I moved the cabinet from the dining room to the living room and then straight out the door to strangers from Burbank. See how I did that without any photographic documentation?

We have rugs now, too. More things to mark off the list without documentation! I’ll talk about the large, beautiful flat-weave that I refused to settle on another day, but suffice to say we kicked it into gear when Mikey looked around the room after all the Christmas decorations were gone and said, “I’m sad. This house looks lonely and empty.”

A shot to the heart, but only more so because he was right. With just two chairs, a coffee table, and a sofa, voices echoed off the floors and walls. It looked like someone was moving in or moving out, but not living here. Enter the large rug. For our anniversary we bought a Koldby from IKEA.

People have strong opinions about cowhides. They either love them, hate them, or think they are trendy. I can see all viewpoints, but they remind me my childhood. Being from Argentina, they were ubiquitous in our home. My mom has three on the walls in her office alone. I do think it’s funny they are so popular now. Crazy, when I think of how many people in high school and college teased me about them.

For now, our living room looks like this.

I had plans to sell this other china cabinet on Craigslist, too, but once the mid century cabinet left, I knew I had to put something in its place, at least temporarily. It will be a while before we can afford to replace it, but right now I am debating between an upright piano (I played for 11 years) or a low sitting set of bookshelves with an assortment of family pictures on top. Similar to this, but not quite so cluttered.

On Sunday, after my solitary walk, I went home feeling inspired. I unloaded the IKEA china cabinet and put everything on the dining room table. (Picture it, because I forgot to take a picture.) Then, the Mister and I moved the cabinet to its placeholder position and I spent the better part of an hour fiddle-faddling with the contents.

The bucket of white flowers is 12 years old. The vase and obscenely large candle stick (I mean, really) is around 7 years old.

Not willing to spend one red cent but aware of the decorating lesson I had just learned, I went around the house and tried to find accessories, which I generally loathe. Don’t get me wrong, I like accessories and think they make a house look homey. I just find most of them are insincere or staged for me. It’s a bit like wearing red lipstick. It looks good on everyone else, but when I do it I feel like I’m playing in my mom’s makeup drawer.

Basically, the story we have here is of a woman who was once timid, but now isn’t. She was once rushed, looking to make things work, but is now willing to wait until she finds just the right thingamabob to pretty up the coffee table. (Most likely books, rocks, and plants or a terrarium.) Also, she lives with people with severe allergies and is still looking for a candle that won’t make someone sneeze or get itchy, runny eyes. The odds aren’t looking good.

I have such plans for that large corner in the window. I see a round library or tea table stacked with books, plants, a vintage bust (I’ve always wanted one!), or even a globe. I thought this globe was snazzy, and didn’t even balk at the price. This project taught me to buy for life, and therefore prices aren’t as intimidating anymore. Only cheaply made, disposable items should have a too good to be true price, and that’s because you need to account for buying items two and three times over before you learn your lesson. If I loved it enough to buy it, I would save my money, sell items I don’t love or need, and wait until I could afford the darn globe. If it’s gone by the time I can buy it, it wasn’t meant to be. That’s neither here nor there, unfortunately, because I think the globe is too big. I would need something more petite for the size table I can fit in that corner. That’s okay–that gives me more room for a freaky bust!

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This post was part of The William Morris Project, a weekly series that details the steps I am taking to create an intentional home. You can see more of my goals and completed projects here. To learn more about this project, start here.

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Now it’s your turn! Feel free to share how you have lived according to the William Morris quote, “Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.” Made a plan? Cleaned a drawer? Bought a sofa? Let’s hear it with a link or in the comments.

A few guidelines:

Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
No links to giveaways, please.
A link back to this site is always appreciated. There are buttons to add to your post or sidebar, too, thanks to the lovely Alex, of Type A Calligraphy. Just copy the code and insert into your blog post or sidebar while in html mode.
Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.

Updates to the Living Room is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

Vignettes

Jules — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 08:00:30 +0000

Late Sunday morning was so nice. I had to run an errand, and though it would take me nowhere near our downtown, I asked the Mister if he would mind if I left him with the (sick) boys while I walked around and looked at antiques. He just rolled his eyes and said, “Please. You don’t have to ask. Go and have fun. Just don’t do anything crazy, like shabby chic.”

I pointed out that I don’t like shabby chic interiors so it wasn’t a risk. He then claimed I once sent him an email with a picture of a thrifted dresser spray-painted and made to look “chippy.” Men remember the oddest things. “Don’t forget to buy blue cheese” goes in one ear and out the other, but an email from several years ago about a white dresser? That gets burned into the brain.

I walked around all my favorite shops–not one carrying Rachel Ashwell–and had such a wonderful time by myself. I’m normally with the boys, or on rare occasions, friends. It can be hard to shop with children, of course, but the same can be said of shopping with friends. It was nice to linger at my own pace, speaking to no one, and hover over displays I loved without worrying about dawdling or keeping someone else entertained.

When I went to Campy Mighty, Nicole and I later went shopping on the furniture strip in Palm Springs. We went into one store that had the most amazing candle burning. I would have bought one, but the store that carried them was closed on Sundays. I haven’t been able to find a candle I like as much since, though a part of me worries that the memory of this candle exceeds the reality. I was pretty excited about the Flora Exotica candle, above, with its alluring packaging of black and gold and floral, but no. It’s scent is primarily honeysuckle, a smell I loathe. And so the memory of the Palm Springs candle glows brightly. To my husband: the only way I could have been less subtle is if I had I printed out this post, wrapped it around an anvil, and dropped it on your head from a second story window. Mother’s Day is in May.

The takeaway from my window shopping, aside from honeysuckle and lilac remaining my least favorite scents, is that our home lacks vignetting. You walk into some of these stores, and you are pulled in by the most interesting displays. They unfold as if the store houses characters in a book. In this corner lives Ruth, who likes to read cookbooks in bed, prefers her hand soap to smell like rosemary, and collects crockery–always in cream. Magda is agnostic but adores religious folk art, Santos dolls, and lights a Saint Jude veladora before her weekend meditations because (1) it reminds her of her grandmother and (2) sometimes she feels her love life is a bit of a desperate case. Across the aisle stands Jane. She likes bright, pure colors (all of them), cooks semi-homemade, and throws the best parties because she never tries to make everything perfect.

It hit me, in that big store full of characters I would like to meet, that decorating is just another form of storytelling.

Vignettes is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

Unstyled Life

Jules — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 08:00:20 +0000

I’m going to try and return the Unstyled Life posts to the format I originally intended: unstyled images of beauty around the house and home with little accompanying text. It started as a way for me to not fret so much about the “work in progress” status of our home. Over time, the posts morphed into essays on life, both serious and frivolous. I will continue to write, I couldn’t possibly stop if I tried, but I won’t do it on Fridays. Right now, my heart says I am pushing myself too hard. Not the way professional working mothers must push themselves, since I bring it on myself as my own commandante. I don’t pretend to shoulder your demands, but I feel a hard shove from behind nonetheless. My hat’s off to you. I need to slow down and think and hear and see without attaching to it a to-do list. I’m doing a wonderful job at creating an intentional home. Now I need to be a little more intentional about how I live within those walls. It is possible to drown in a glass of water.

Yes, that is the new table. I took this from the sofa while I gave Mikey a practice spelling test. I thought the light was pretty, and it was only after I took the picture that I noticed I never put the candlestick back after lunch or shelved my 30 year-old copy of Jane Eyre after finding it the laundry room. I didn’t feel bad about it, either. I closed my eyes and dozed instead, for just a few minutes, before I got up to make dinner.

Unstyled Life is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

Too Much Storage

Jules — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 08:00:53 +0000

A welcome effect of living by the William Morris quote and creating an intentional home is that eventually you reach a point where you have too much storage. I know, crazy-talk, but unless you live in a home without closets, it is possible. Possible with sweat equity and capital, but possible nonetheless.

Take the Leksvik, for example. We kept this in our dining room to store many things. Last week we finally bought a dining room table (hurray!) and that meant there was no longer room for what officially became the clutter-catcher. No matter, since I already had it placed on Craigslist. I knew by looking through its cluttered glass doors that whatever it contained I could keep more organized somewhere else. I moved it to the back porch and hoped for the best. As luck would have it, someone offered to buy Leksvik only two days later. SOLD!

They gave me two hours notice on the coldest, windiest day of the season, but beggars can’t be choosers. I thought I could tackle the Great-Clutter Catcher Purge of 2012! before they arrived, but it was so cold and windy I was afraid all the loose photographs and paper would go flying.

Also, I didn’t feel like it. It looked like a lot of work.

I put everything inside an old laundry basket and placed it in the living room. Then I wiped everything down and gave Leksvik a quick polish. You so want to buy furniture off me on Craigslist. I pretty them up like they’re on their way to their first day of school.

The laundry basket of clutter stayed in my living room for only 24 hours before I sat down to toss/donate/keep.

[Pause. Wait for applause.]

I separated everything into groups, too. Both cookbooks went into a kitchen pile. I had an unusual amount of Christmas items, so those went into a pile, too.

Oddly enough, this introverted recluse who hates to socialize owns an obscene amount of party supplies. I like the idea of parties, or so it would seem.

That’s it! It took me less than an hour to place everything (haphazardly) in their new homes. This was good. I planned to tackle my wrapping paper storage issues, so I’m glad I was able to first uncover the last of the hidden supplies.

I can’t end the post with such a mediocre image, so I thought I’d share something else I found during the Great Clutter-Catcher Purge of 2012!

It’s a picture of the Mister when he was Nicholas’s age. I can really see the resemblance. People often say Nicholas looks like me, but I’ve never seen it. I’ve always thought he looks just like my husband.

A few guidelines:

Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
No links to giveaways, please.
A link back to this site is always appreciated. There are buttons to add to your post or sidebar, too, thanks to the lovely Alex, of Type A Calligraphy. Just copy the code and insert into your blog post or sidebar while in html mode.
Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.

Too Much Storage is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

Unstyled Life

Jules — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 08:00:17 +0000

On Wednesday afternoon I danced along the fine edge of parenthood we all have, the one that separates the parent you can be from the fallible adult you are. I do a fair job keeping my foibles and neuroses from affecting the way I parent. Like almost everyone else, I keep out that which I don’t want them to model with the help of a self-made retaining wall–but the Hero of Haarlem is proof that doesn’t always work. What you try to keep out will find a crack and trickle in. As a parent, it’s my job to see the leak and plug it.

I was helping Mikey with his picture of an allosaurus attacking a triceratops when Nicholas reached across the coffee table and reached for the pastels. He wanted them because he watched me explain to Mikey how they work, how you can shade and blend and mix to make color progressions and all around awesomeness.

“Nicholas, please don’t. Use your crayons, please.” He looked disappointed; he wanted to be like his big brother. I wanted to avoid a mess; I didn’t want them to get on the carpet or sofa. I didn’t want them to break or wear down. He reached for them again, and I sighed.

“Nicholas,” and I paused, trying to think of a nice way to say don’t touch my stuff. I couldn’t figure out a way to say please don’t touch my pastels from college, the ones I used one semester 19 years ago, the ones we found last summer buried under decades worth of memories in your grandparent’s storage unit. Please don’t touch those.

I felt ashamed.

Search for cracks. Find the leak. Plug the dyke.

When we were kids, my youngest brother and I used to roshambo over who would swipe the knife across a new tub of margarine. Neither one of us wanted to do it–it looked nice and new and pretty with it’s little dollop on top. After the first swipe, we could care less. Smart Balance for everyone! But there was something about that first swipe. Same thing with new clothing, or socks and underwear. I used to buy what I needed and then continue to wear my ratty t-shirts and socks into oblivion. I wanted my new stuff to stay new as long as possible. I thought I was over that silliness but, so it would seem, pastels bring out the cray-cray in me.

“You know what, Nicholas, go ahead and use the pastels. Use the q-tips and cotton balls like mama showed Mikey. And use these, too. These are called oil pastels, and you can blend them with your fingers.”

A happy Nicholas started coloring, and Mikey continued outlining his picture of a dinosaur, and I got up to stretch my back and crack my knees because sitting on the floor to color for more than an hour is almost as hard as parenting. The picture of Nicholas and me dancing underneath a layer of pastels (and crayons and pencils and charcoal) is worth the achy joints.

Unstyled Life is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

Return All the Things

Jules — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 08:00:31 +0000

If ever I needed proof of my type-A personality, my suffocating need for achievement and perfection, or my tendency to over-think, over-analyze, and over-everything, I could point to my 25th birthday present. My mom, aware of what I really needed, bought me Simple Abundance: A Daybook of Comfort and Joy by Sarah Ban Breathnach. But I won’t, because it is far more telling that I never opened the book until this summer, 14 years after the fact.

Of course, I opened it back then on my birthday. I read the inscription and smiled, as good daughters do. I even carried it with me on the flight home (I was visiting my parents in Lake Tahoe) and when the pretty Indian woman in her 30s leaned over to ask me what I thought of the book, I looked down at the book in my lap and said, “I haven’t read it, but I’m sure it’s good.” She smiled back with a look that said she knew me.

I found the book in my childhood room, lost among all the other books. It was shortly after Helena’s parents died, and I grabbed it because it seemed much more relevant 14 years later. I had changed.

Then I opened the book and noticed it was a devotional of sorts, that there is a short essay for each day of the year and that the first date is, naturally, January 1. The introduction said to not worry about dates, and that “if this book finds you in April, don’t think that you can’t use it.”

I closed the book again–this time bringing it home for safekeeping–and made a mental note to start reading in January. I hadn’t changed that much.

On January 3rd, I read the following.

There are six principles that will act as guides as we make our inner journey over the next year. These are the six threads of abundant living which, when woven together, produce a tapestry of contentment that wraps us in inner peace, well-being, happiness, and a sense of security. First, there is gratitude. When we do a mental and spiritual inventory of all that we have, we realize that we are very rich indeed. Gratitude gives way to simplicity–the desire to clear out, pare down, and realize the essentials of what we need to live truly well. Simplicity brings with it order, both internally and externally. A sense of order in our life brings us harmony. Harmony provides us with the inner peace we need to appreciate the beauty that surrounds us each day, and beauty opens us to joy. But just as with any beautiful needlepoint tapestry, it is difficult to see where one stitch ends and another begins. So it is with Simple Abundance.

I wrote the word Excellent in the margin.

It was the very thing I needed to hear, that it’s okay many of the projects I do are practical, boring, not even remotely pinnable. There is an order to things, and before I can get to zshushing I have to work on the foundation. Otherwise, it’s just lipstick on a pig.

We hosted a dinner for out of town relatives a few days before Christmas. Our advent candles had burned down low, so I made a quick visit to Michael’s for more. I found the pretty gold candles on sale for a ridiculously low price and, thinking they would look lovely on the table, bought two boxes of four. I was right. They were lovely. That is, until they burned for more than a few seconds, and their marked down, too-good-to-be-true price made sense. (Not cents.)

They melted. They melted everywhere, and fast enough that you would think someone held a blow torch to the wick. They melted down the candle, down the candlestick, and pooled on the antique table we are borrowing from my mom. The table is flimsy and of little value, but that didn’t make scraping wax off the finish any less annoying. Stupid, cheap, golden candles.

After Christmas, I was left with an annoying decision. I knew I would never again use the candles, but I didn’t want to throw them out, either. It seemed wasteful, even though I didn’t spend that much. And it was the small amount of money I spent that presented the problem: large enough to keep me from tossing them out, small enough to make me put off returning them. Before this summer, before October, and before the estate sale, I might have kept them just in case. Or, I might have stored them so I could sell them at a future garage sale.

Storing worthless candles I have no intention of using so I can salve my ego or make 50¢ at a mythical garage sale is silly. Taking the time to tuck them away in pretty organizing bins is putting lipstick on a pig.

I returned them. I waited until I had errands that would put me near a Michael’s and walked out ten minutes later with, I don’t know, maybe $5? It seems silly, but these little purchases here and there add up. I keep my returns under the entry table in my kitchen, always in plain view, so it’s the last thing I see when I leave the house. I don’t store them in baskets or make them look pretty. I’ll forget them if I do. Instead, I let them plague me like an unwanted suitor until I can’t take it anymore. I returned a box of candles at Michael’s, two duplicate toys at Target, a purse and a necklace at Macy’s. Suddenly, I have money to work on projects around the house.

Inches make champions.

Return all the things. I did.

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A few guidelines:

Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
No links to giveaways, please.
A link back to this site is always appreciated. There are buttons to add to your post or sidebar, too, thanks to the lovely Alex of Type A Calligraphy. Just copy the code and insert into your blog post or sidebar when in html mode.
Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.

Return All the Things is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

Unstyled Life

Jules — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 08:00:01 +0000

For several days in a row, the sunset stretched like taffy across our suburban skies. Blues, purples, pinks, and oranges melting into each other, one after another, until they blended into dark. Picture after picture after picture, I clamored for more each evening around 5:00pm. I never got tired of the spectacle, not once. Like the Kardashians for T.M.Z., it never got old.

On Wednesday, the sky split open into fuschia. I gasped from my desk, and the boys scrambled up the back of the sofa to look out the window.

“It’s a Sailor’s Delight, mama,” from an observant Nicholas.

We kept watching.

“This is a nice family moment,” from an equally observant Mikey.

It didn’t take long, no more than a minute or two, for the sky to bleed into gray. The boys turned around and faced the room, now darker than before.

“It’s too bad the sunsets don’t last very long,” Mikey went on. “It’s not fair that something so cool goes so quick.”

That does seem to be life’s general theme.

After a break from the insanity of the holidays, we are back to reading The Chronicles of Narnia. The boys stumbled upon The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe movie over the weekend, and now that Mikey knows there are movies in his future, we can’t get through the books fast enough. Nicholas isn’t as interested–the English is old and complicated–but he has finally, finally taken an interest in me reading to him. I’ve jumped on this like a flea on a dog and try to read to him four books every morning after Mikey goes to school. Then, Mikey reads to him when he gets home as part of his homework assignment. Before we go to bed, more reading, usually Chronicles of Narnia. Whether he becomes the avid reader Mikey is remains to be seen, but it won’t be for lack of trying.

Today we read four books and then played four rousing games of Tic-Tac-Toe, during the first of which he beat me fair and square. I didn’t see it coming.

Then we ran errands, had lunch, and picked up Mikey and a neighborhood boy from school. Did some homework, took powers naps to recover from an accidental early morning, and ate pizza once the Mister came home. Brushed our teeth, put on our pajamas, and climbed into bed.

Now it’s the weekend, the middle of January, our twelve year wedding anniversary. The days go by quick, just like sunsets.

Unstyled Life is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

How to Organize the Family Medicine Cabinet

Jules — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 08:00:07 +0000

As sick as we were in December and the first week of January (Mikey is still coughing and feeling tired), it’s no surprise I decided to make the medicine cabinet my first official victim of The William Morris Project. (The picture wall was my unofficial start.) What is surprising is that I let it go for as along as I did. This was a project I wanted to tackle in October. I didn’t because I let my perfectionism get in the way.

Most people use the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, but I grew up in a paranoid physician’s household. Instead of a box of band-aids and aspirin in a dark bathroom, we had an entire cabinet stocked with medicine, vitamins, rubbing alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, 4×4 gauze pads, bandages of all sizes, ointments, cold medication, emetics and anti-emetics, over-the-counter pain medication, heating pads, and rubber ice bags. We never did use more than 2% of the contents, but it was organized and waiting like an operating room.

I never got over the habit of checking the kitchen for medical supplies (not for lack of trying) so the kitchen O.R. lives to see another generation in our home.

Our medicine cabinet, and the counter beneath it, was a mess after a month of heavy and continuous use.

It wasn’t terrible, but if the bottles weren’t even upright I can’t claim was very good, either. I found the solution in an unlikely place: photo memory boxes.

I went for plain and simple from Michael’s. They were on sale, so I was able to buy all three for $6.00. I spent an obscene amount of time looking for the right containers for the job and admit to settling, slightly, with these boxes. They aren’t the perfect fit, but after months of searching I had to concede I was hung up on an issue of negligible importance. I bought them. They make the area much more organized and efficient. They are useful.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start with step one.

Empty out the medicine cabinet, lay everything out, and check for expiration dates. I disposed of everything that expired or we didn’t need according to federal guidelines. You can visit the FDA website to learn how to dispose of unused or expired medication. I called the pharmacy to see how I could dispose of Nico’s old epi-pens since I don’t have a Sharps container. Turns out, I can drop them off at a fire station!

I don’t know if you can see the tupperware containers in that dogpile of medications a couple of pictures up, but I used to have our medicine organized by symptom, like G.I. Upset, Cold/Flu, Pain, etc. Dumb. Now I have it organized by patient. I have one box for kids and another for adults. The third box is first aid.

Take the children’s box, for example. Inside I have everything I need for cold and flu, tummy bugs, and other childhood illnesses. I have all the medication dispensers in there, and a sheet from their pediatrician on foods to eat during the stomach flu. I also have several thermometers, replacement batteries, and a penny (our thermometer backs unlock with a coin) so if I need to, I can change the batteries on the fly in the middle of the night. It is a universal truth of parenthood that thermometer batteries never run out during the day.

Now, whenever we need something, we pull down the entire box. This works especially well at 1:00am with a sick child. You grab the whole box and head back to their room for the long night ahead. No more back and forth getting supplies. I can’t tell you how many times this December I grabbed the cough medication only to come back to the kitchen an hour later for ibuprofin. Now all I have to worry about is tripping over a box in the middle of the night as I crawl back to my bed.

This is how the medicine cabinet looks now. The bottoms shelf is for daily medications and heating pads. I figured anyone who needs a heating pad doesn’t want to grab a step ladder to reach them. The next shelf holds the kids box. High enough so they can’t reach it, but low enough to be within easy reach. The next shelf is for adults and the top shelf is first aid.

You can see here the fit isn’t perfect. I suppose a few of you will think I’m being persnickety. I am, I admit it. This is how I am. Did you not see my project list broken down by room? Are you new here? I spent far too long searching for the right box (months), and this is as close as I got to finding what I had in mind. The perfect box would be tin (so I could wipe down any medication drips), a tiny bit smaller, and come with hinged lids that open and close easily. Oh well. The boxes extend past the shelf a bit, but not so much that we can’t shut the door firmly. The lids are not impossible to deal with; we’ll see how they hold up to regular use.

Ah, but even with those small nuisances I am happier than a pig in slop with the end result. The only thing that would please me more would be to never again see the inside of this cabinet. Not likely, but fingers crossed its use will go down significantly the rest of this winter season.

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Now it’s your turn! We’re going to try a link up today and see how it goes. I’m a little nervous about it! Feel free to share how you have lived according to the William Morris quote, “Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.” Made a plan? Cleaned a drawer? Bought a sofa? Let’s hear it.

A few guidelines:

Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
No links to giveaways, please.
A link back to this site is always appreciated. There are buttons to add to your post or sidebar, too, if you like…but not this week. I’m working on it!
Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.

How to Organize the Family Medicine Cabinet is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

The Intentional Home

Jules — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 08:00:34 +0000

I am so happy to hear many of you are starting your own projects or will be working alongside with me! Please link up each Thursday and share your progress. Sing your praises in the comment section ff you don’t have a blog or collection of photos online. The mundane, when done as a group, can become extraordinary. I promise. If it wasn’t for this blog–knowing I had to report here every week with a project of some sort–I wouldn’t get done half as much as I do. I suppose that’s why Stephen R. Covey says accountability breeds response-ability.

The first link up will be this Thursday. Are you ready? I am, mostly. I need to edit pictures and write the post. Everything else is done. This is why I picked Thursday as the link up day. On Wednesday I’m wrapping up whatever project I’ve decided to do so it can post Thursday. That gives me Thursday and Friday to think about what I will do the following week. If it’s something big, I have the weekend to plan and execute. If I don’t have time on the weekend, I still have Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday to wrack my brain for something to do.

Actually, that’s not true. I always know what to do because I have a long, extensive list of potential projects. That crazy list is my number one tip for anyone just starting. I did it for the October series, and I am doing it for this one, too, even though it’s only once per week. It’s my plan of attack. I’m busy. I’m scattered. I forget things. This list helps me remember what I need to do, because even though I dig through my overflowing sock and undies drawer every single day, I still can’t remember to clean it out.

If you don’t have a project ready to share on Thursday, share your list of potential projects. You’ll feel better just for having written it out.

My list is…extensive. First, I’m a detailed person with a tendency to over-think. Writing out a list like this is natural to me. Yours doesn’t have to look like this, and probably won’t because splitting hairs doesn’t make your blood sing like it does mine. But sing it does, even when I put in items I know we couldn’t afford in a million years. This drives the Mister batty. He can’t understand why I want to focus on something we can’t have in the foreseeable future, like complete bathroom remodels for two out of three bathrooms. I can explain my reasoning.

First, just because we can’t do it today, doesn’t mean we can’t do it tomorrow. We could win the lottery. We could find a buried treasure. I could be approached by a major corporation desperate to work with a small blog with a weird name. Anything is possible, anything can happen. You just need to be open to the possibility. Second, I find it much more depressing to turn away from a dream than face an unlikely reality. Also, new bathrooms would be useful and beautiful. So there.

Dream. Put it all down on your list. When we are done, there won’t be anything in our homes that we don’t find useful or beautiful. I say we try to get both at the same time.

Here is my list. Please, don’t feel you have to read it all. This is to keep me organized and inspired. I wrote my intention for each room before I listed line items to keep me on track. I’m not looking to create a showboat home or keep up with the neighbors. My goal is to have a home that reflects our family, the contents of which are useful, or beautiful, or both.

p.s. Need more inspiration? Rachel at Small Notebook likes to Clear the Clutter every Monday, and Nester is hosting a Home Goals link up tomorrow. I’m sure there will be plenty of posts about home goals–including this one–linked up and waiting to inspire you to spit shine your abode.

Kitchen: A point of entry into our home for family and friends and a place to create nourishing meals. It is welcoming, clean, and feels like as comforting as cookies and milk.

Repaint kitchen, at least the ceiling.

New floor in kitchen. (A temporary fix is okay if it can be reused somewhere else.)

Caulk and paint window trim in kitchen.

Create family organizer system in kitchen.

Frame and hang prints, photographs.

Organize medicine cabinet.

Plant flowers or pots in planters flanking kitchen entrance.

Repaint kitchen threshold.

Replace cheap shades and inadequate window treatments.

Organize and purge corner cabinet.

Organize and purge drawer under ovens.

Organize and purge food processor cabinet.

Organize recipes.

Scrape and re-caulk kitchen counters.

Laundry Room: A bright, orderly, and invigorating room that functions efficiently.

Scrape off wallpaper in laundry room.

Paint and patch walls.

Repaint pantry doors in laundry room. Replace door handles.

Organize broom closet.

Organize and purge shelves in laundry room.

New rug.

New shelves.

New washer and dryer.

Put back original window that previous owner removed.

Remodel and convert into mudroom/laundry room.

Yellow Guest Bathroom: An interesting, quirky and cheery room. You know, for a bathroom.

Decorate yellow bathroom: paint, shelves, medicine cabinet, rug, and general zhushing.

Install baseboards.

New toilet and sink.

Dining Room: A gathering place for family and friends where one can linger in comfortable chairs to discuss the day, play games, and share meals.

Purchase new, made to last dining room table and chairs.

Purchase dining room rug.

Purchase china cabinet to match/coordinate with dining room table and chairs.

Sell current sideboard.

Sell IKEA display case.

Sell midcentury china cabinet.

Replace sliding doors with something safer.

New window treatments for sliding doors/something safer.

Family Room: A cozy, embracing room where bodies sink into stuffed sofas and chairs to read books and watch movies. The lighting is plentiful, flattering, and comfort reigns over form.

Repaint family room a calm, comfortable color.

Scrape acoustic tiles off family room. Drywall.

Find a media cabinet, preferably with shelves for display or books.

Replace with good quality, family friendly materials the sofa, coffee table, chair(s), window treatments, and lighting.

Create a reading nook.

Install floor to ceiling bookshelves along one wall.

Replace carpet, preferably with hardwood and rug.

Living Room: An nattily dressed room that exhibits an appreciation for nature, music, and art in an approachable manner.

Purchase jute or flat weave rug.

Purchase cowhide rug.

Purchase an upright piano, purchase stand for Mikey’s guitar.

Shutters for picture windows in living room.

Remove fireplace mantel, possibly replace.

Master Bedroom: A respite where we go to rest, relax, and rejuvenate. A soft place to land.

Clean out jewelry drawer

Clean out and organize drawers. Donate clothing.

Paint master bedroom a calm, relaxing color.

Replace door handles and drawer pulls on built in closet.

New window treatments.

New blinds.

Create rosary/meditation station area.

Master Bathroom: Clean, bright, and from the 21st century.

Completely gut and remodel.

Clean out and purge cabinet under sink.

Clean out and purge medicine cabinet.

Clean out and purge cabinet above toilet.

Mikey’s Room: A charming room for a charming little boy.

Organize and purge dresser drawers.

Organize and purge nightstand.

Organize and purge expedit shelf.

Organize closet.

Organize and purge secondary bookshelf and toy storage.

Convert into shared bedroom for Mikey and Nico.

Nicholas’s Room: A charming room for a charming little boy.

Organize and purge dresser drawers.

Organize and purge nightstand.

Organize closet.

Organize and purge bookshelf and toy storage.

Remove train table, donate or sell.

Convert to guest bedroom.

Boys Bathroom: The bathroom in a men’s club if the men in such a club would get over themselves and have a sense of humor.

New outlet so I can play music while I get ready.

Install shower rod/head combo, possibly call plumber for this since it’s not standard.

Install shower curtain.

Repaint ceiling.

Purge and organize medicine cabinet.

Replace overhead lights.

Completely gut and remodel.

Office/Outside Studio: An invigorating, comfortable room that promotes creativity.

Complete purging and organizing project started in October.

General zhushing, make comfortable and inviting for the Mister—and maybe me?—to work in at night.

Garage: A place where people park their cars, not store junk.

Purge and declutter, sell contents of discarded items form 31 day series.

Hall Linen Closet: A place where linens and things hang out.

Organize photo drawer. Create memory system.

Replace pulls and door handles, possibly repaint.

Create wrapping paper storage, do something with all the gift bags.

Entryway: A welcome point for new friends and a place to store the incidentals of school and sport.

Rug for entryway

New window treatment or film for front door window.

Station for school backpacks, purses, coats, etc.

Hang coat and hat hooks in entryway

Hang photographs or prints in entryway

Back Porch: A place to lounge and hide from the sun while enjoying its warmth.

Install ceiling fans and lighting.

Purchase outdoor rug.

Create inviting seating arrangement.

Front Porch: A place to sit and watch little boys ride bikes, play in leaves, and catch bugs.

Landscape flower bed.

Bench for lemonade.

Pot and arrange grouping of plants.

Purchase good quality, stylish door mat.

General zhushing.

Backyard: A casual expanse of green with spots of color coming from modest beds of flowers.

Plant flowers around Chinese Elm.

Plant flowers or plants along flower bed in the backyard.

Purchase fire pit, new patio furniture.

Purchase new grill.

Install twinkle lights.

Plant herb garden, vegetable garden, regular garden.

Front Yard: A happy, humble, tidy yard with a welcoming approach.

Plant flowers in front brick area.

Completely gut and landscape.

Miscellaneous: We all have those things that don’t really go anywhere but need to get done.

Paint all trim in the house.

Scrape and paint all exterior windows.

Blow up and hang two favorite pictures of boys.

Add images to family wall of pictures.

Reframe painting from Helena’s parents, find permanent place for it.

Paint all doors in the house.

Replace all doorknobs in the house.

Repaint top of board and batten.

Polish and maintain brass candlesticks.

Polish and maintain all silver.

Replace wire and plastic hangers with wood.

Return items that belong to others.

Return items to various stores.

Repair, reupholster vintage chairs in garage.

The Intentional Home is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

The William Morris Project, 2012

Jules — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 18:17:37 +0000

It’s back!

It’s back, but not like before. I decided to commit to one project every week, and I hope to have you join in on the fun on Thursdays. As amazing as October was for me on many levels, it is impossible to maintain that sort of momentum for one year. That’s not to say I don’t have the material, sadly. There are still so many projects left for me to do around the house, but many of them take considerably more time than one day, and more money then $20.

It’s bizarre what I’ve turned a blind eye to, and what I’ve brought in our home without loving. What I have made work because I couldn’t wait to have what I really wanted. What I’ve put off doing because I was afraid to…I don’t know, put some holes in the wall.

When the Mister and I married (12 years on the 15th!) I made a point of creating a family wall in the entryway of our new home. Everyone loved it, even though at the time our pictures were limited to our parents, our siblings, and our dogs. Recreating that wall was one of the first projects we tackled when we moved to this house. When we had the walls painted over a year ago, we took down all the pictures. I never put them back up.

At first, I was concerned with proper placement. The pictures were out of date. I wanted to add more. Two good excuses I used to justify leaving the walls bare. I didn’t want to put the pictures up bit by bit, I wanted to wait until I had everything the way I wanted. Perfect.

Then, after a few months, I started to hate the wall color. I didn’t put up the pictures, this time because I wanted to repaint. A third excuse.

In October, I picked out a wall color and painted it myself.

In December, well over a year after we took them down, we put up the pictures.

It was as aggravating as I anticipated. Here is the thing with a wall of pictures. If you are type-A, like me, getting everything straight and precise and aesthetically pleasing is impossible. You will never be satisfied. Never. So, I did the unthinkable. I, with the Mister, started hanging pictures on the wall with no real plan other than hanging our family picture front and center. I yelled and cursed and had panic attacks every five minutes, but we did it.

We did it, even though the pictures are horribly outdated. The oldest picture of Nicholas is when he was 6 months old. There are no pictures of my brother’s wife, or my now 2 year old niece. There is no picture of my 4 year old niece, either. There are no family vacation trips, no school pictures, and very few candid shots, which are what makes a wall, in my opinion. There is plenty of room for more pictures, so that’s good.

I plan to fill this wall with pictures of the boys since it faces their bedrooms. In these pictures, Mikey is 3 and Nicholas is 6 months.

The wall is woefully inadequate, but it’s a start. And, for a perfectionist like me, it’s more than just a start on a wall of pictures.

A very special thanks to Alex, who late last night designed and hand-lettered my William Morris post header in two hours because I had a whim. Speaking of perfectionists, I’m supposed to let everyone know she will be refining it over the next couple of weeks because there is only so much one girl can do at 11:00pm with a head cold and slow drying ink.

The William Morris Project, 2012 is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries