Meanwhile, Back in France

August 25, 2014UncategorizedOut and AboutMrs. Blandings

My friends and I stayed at a very charming apartment while we were in Paris. Our boys stayed together with their beloved former French teacher and we were all content. (Well, except, perhaps, for the French teacher, but she never let us know otherwise and let’s just say that ignorance is bliss.)

My suite mates and I were a happy lot and we fell in easily together. They took pictures of the boys in front of significant sights and were quite patient with me as I snapped pictures of things like the doors to our building that were very nearly Dix Blue, which I found to be a delight every time I crossed their high threshold.

Or when I took pictures of chairs. (Who wouldn’t want that chair? I do.)

Or details that I might want to recreate at Christmas.

Or how I might ventilate my country/beach house (that I will likely never have.)

They were patient with my snapping away at Versailles, but they were not always understanding of it. One friend said, “I am glad I came, but I don’t know why anyone would do this twice.” Because I was. Doing it for the second time. It was the crowds that she could not stand, while they were a necessary evil to me. “This is sort of what I do,”I told her as I took a picture of another floor. She nodded pleasantly.

But she, an avid gardener, nodded her head again when I said the same to her about Giverny. Good heavens. The crowds there, which I’m sure were not dissimilar to Versailles, were a moving, amorphous mass that enveloped me at every turn. Nothing seemed worth subjecting oneself to it. That it all ended in a Disneyesque gift shop made it worse. My friends did not think it was nearly as bad. A necessary evil.

The gardens at Rodin’s home in Paris were much more my speed. Then again, hornbeams, boxwood, hydrangea. I wasn’t exactly broadening my horizons.

This last image I took for my friend, Todd. He knows that I feel more relaxed in France. More myself. It releases me from an inbred uptightness. When I told Todd that I was taking Rosie to sit outside with me at Aixois here in town years ago, I said, “It’s like France. It’s fine.” Fine as in alright. But also fine as in splendid.

House Diary

August 17, 2014UncategorizedOn AssignmentMrs. Blandings

I have a new piece up at Elle Decor on my rebellious use single chairs. You can find it here.

Now We Are Seven

August 15, 2014UncategorizedMusings from the Dream HouseMrs. Blandings

This dog ball sits under a lucite box in my office as a reminder that you never know what will change your life. A little over seven years ago I walked into George Terbovich’s shop in Crestwood to buy a lighted dog ball for Rosie. I thought it was nothing more than an afternoon errand to fill the time after my youngest’s nap and before his brothers’ carpool.

But it started a journey from shopgirl to blog reader to (on-and-off-again) blog writer. I could not have foreseen the changes that this blog would bring when I stood on that concrete floor and shook this ball and watched the light inside flicker like fireflies for the delight of my five-year-old.

Today marks the anniversary of my first post. Mrs. Blandings opened my world in a way I never expected. I know that there are readers who have been around from the beginning and I am so flattered that you find something here to enjoy. Many of the bloggers who started in 2007 became real friends and I am still amazed that people can create a connection on-line that holds up in real life.

I am grateful, too, to the editors who have featured me on their pages and sites. Thank you to Zim Loy, Stacy Downs, Margaret Russell, Karen Carroll and Michael Boodro. Thank you, too, to every designer – too many to mention – who picked up the phone or answered an email about some crazy thing that had piqued my curiosity. I am constantly inspired by your instinct, your knowledge, your passion and the humor with which you share it.

I did not expect to be a blogger (which seemed silly to me then.) I certainly did not expect to blog (on-and-off-again) for seven years (talk about silly.) So I can’t say if I’ll be here for seven more. Life changes. But the last seven years writing Mrs. Blandings have been a ball. Thanks for playing along.

Tools of the Trade

August 14, 2014UncategorizedMusings from the Dream HouseMrs. Blandings

Do I need a vintage wine carrier? One that is secured with a dusky brass latch, that opens to reveal a space just large enough to nestle two bottles? No. I do not. But did I buy it because it’s infinitely more charming than toting wine to a friend’s in a sack or grasped firmly around the neck? Yes, that, and because what would feel better than the smooth ridges of the rattan on the backs of my fingers as I swing it in rhythm with my stride? Nothing that I could think of at the time. As I waffled (not too long, don’t worry) it did occur to me that I might give it as a hostess gift. And I might. But that is what I said when I succumbed to the vintage glass pitcher with the silver top that has the built-in cylinder for ice. The same vintage glass pitcher that looks so lovely filled with lemonade garnished with fruit that lives in my cabinet still. Perhaps they will be friends, the wine carrier and the pitcher. Long, long time friends.

If you haven’t been to Underdog Wine in Crestwood, do stop in. It’s terrific.

I’m White Again

August 12, 2014UncategorizedMusings from the Dream HouseMrs. Blandings

Before we circle back to Paris (it seems to be a slow and circuitous route) I wanted to add one more entry from my current chalky white fixation. I took the two youngest boys and a friend down to the Crossroads for First Fridays this month.

When there is something that I want the boys to see to which I know they might not immediately be attracted, I plan and promise in small doses. We stay as long as it’s fun. Junky food is likely a reward.

The weather here has been gorgeous and that night was no exception. Live music, lots of dogs, one interesting gentleman in a black speedo and a cowboy hat all provided plenty of entertainment for them and for me.

They enjoyed the galleries more than I expected and spent some time looking at the art and speculating at the intent of the artist. I was captivated by these sculptures by Judy Onofrio at Sherry Leedy. Onofrio has used bone in her work over the last few years. A serious illness and the healing and survival that followed provided Onofrio the perspective that with endings there are new beginnings. Even my middle son, who is still disturbed by the swan and often says, “Why do you always like things that have to do with death?” admired the grace and strength of these. Though what he said was, “Yeah, they’re cool.” Indeed.