I mean, who couldn’t use more bookcases? (I can.)
And, if you know, why do I only have one window when I could have two?
Image, below, House Beautiful, May 2016. Design, Tammy Connor, photography Mali Azima.
Hmmmm…
Blame it on Mexico
I’m just back from picking up the oldest, who recently finished his freshman year in college. He’s studying architecture, but from the state of his room, not overly concerned with preservation of space. We took a bit of a boondoggle to Fallingwater and Monticello on the way home, which were not on the way home in the least, but sometimes I get an idea that I can’t quite let go.
The idea of this trip had been percolating for a while, though it came together about two weeks before I picked him up. All travel involves inconvenience. It is the measure of the joy that it brings that enables us to consider it worth it or not. This was worth it.
More on that later, but one of the major upshots of this trip was, “Travel more. Plan a little, then go.” Honestly, this is the upshot of nearly every trip I take, but then I get distracted by routine.
I came home to a mostly clean house with Casa Mexico waiting for me on the dining room table. Hot climates with spicy, messy food and cool tile floors always appeal. Being captured by the incredibly talented Annie Kelly and Tim Street-Porter, made the homes of artists, designers, architects and aesthetes more appealing, if that is at all possible.
The images and stories here made me wonder, “What the heck am I doing?” Living passionately is its own reward. We are so lucky to get a glimpse of these fifteen homes and their owners here.
Casa Mexico: At Home in Merida and the Yucatan by Annie Kelly, Rizzoli, New York, 2016. Images by Tim Street-Porter.
Internet Romance
Ever the skeptic, I never expected to find love on-line. You’d think that I, who has haunted these halls, would have been more open to such a thing, but no. I’m a romantic at heart.
It’s not entirely accurate, I suppose, to say we first encountered one another on a screen. Just this evening, vodka soda creating a ring on the table beside me, I saw him while sitting on the porch flipping through World of Interiors.
He knew immediately what I needed. (Honestly, I lost custody of a lot of lighting.) He sensed, I suppose that I wanted something with an edge to stir things up around the land of chintz and wicker. Strong, simple but smart, he’s endlessly illuminating. I do think it could be love.
I did spy Michael Anastassiades’s lights which are featured in WoI, April 2016. Production co-ordinator, Aliette Boshier; Photography Bill Batten. The image, last, is from Flos, where you can find these beauties on-line.
United We Laugh
Last night, under the cover of darkness, I piled a stack of political signs in the back of my car and headed out to place them in the yards of like-minded folks. As I’d texted and emailed friends to ask if they’d be willing to support the candidates, not only did they say “yes,” but many replied, “What about here? Do you want me to text them?” Yes, yes and yes. Everyone agreed. We could all use a little levity in our lives.
Big Slick is a local fundraiser for Children’s Mercy Hospital that a group of hometown guys started a few years ago. Rob Riggle. Paul Rudd. Jason Sudeikis. Regular Joe’s who wanted to give back to Kansas City. For the last four years they’ve asked their buddies to come to town and hang out. Play poker. Bowl. Toss the ball around. Have a little fun. So far they’ve raised over $3.5 million. Last year they raised over $1 million alone.
Fueled by my friends’ support, I was so excited to be a part of this project. So excited, in fact, that at one stop I forget to set my parking brake and turned in time to watch my car roll slowly into a mildly busy street. (I was glad my boys could not see me running to stop it as I know I looked like Tom Cruise when he runs and they always make fun of this.)
You can support Children’s Mercy Hospital’s Children’s Cancer Center through Big Slick by buying tickets to the events scheduled June 17th & 18th here. To vote for your favorite candidate – Paul Rudd, Rob Riggle, Jason Sudeikis, Eric Stonestreet or David Koechner and pick up some cool swag, click here.
An Auspicious List
For the last few weeks I’ve been reading and re-reading books about home. As long as I can remember I’ve turned to books to help me sort the tangle of my thoughts. What is it to be a girl? Is there a point in pulling oneself from bed every morning? (This conundrum was long and tiresome. I learned a lot, but am not sentimental about it.) What is it to be in love? How can I give my whole my heart to my children without relinquishing who I am? And, as I mentioned before, do men love as intensely as women?
I don’t write in books, but rather turn down the pages where thoughts have struck me. Sometimes when I go back to look, I cannot see what made me crease the corner and I wonder if I’m overlooking it or if I’ve grown past it. Each has been its own crusade, though, like Dorothy, I often find when I’m spent that the grail was the cup on my bedside table.
I did not think much about home before I was eight. That house where my parents were still married and my sister came home should be the most sentimental, but I remember it the least. Of all the rooms in the house, my room is the foggiest. Photos show glimpses of pink gingham that seem unlikely, but true. I can only suppose that I wasn’t paying attention to that house because I didn’t need to. I was as unaware of it as I am of my softest blue jeans.
It was the upending of my life there and the subsequent unraveling of my mother’s mental and physical health that made every house after as sharp as technicolor. The time that I lived with her is no longer the story. It is a footnote. But each house since has affected me irrevocably. I divide my life, as most mothers do, into chapters by my children’s birthdays, but also by the places I’ve lived. I’ve painted and pushed and prodded these houses into what I needed, but they pushed back and shaped me, too. I could not tell the story of my life without talking about where I’ve lived.
I’ve wanted to write a book about home and how it shapes us for a long time. I’ve gathered pieces from the blog before, but when I look back through them now I find that I am not that woman anymore. I was surprised to discover that I’ve written more over the last couple of years than I realized. Sometimes pages. Sometimes a few paragraphs. But it is all the beginning of something, I think.
I am, finally, working on that book. I’ve let go of who would want to read it or if anyone would publish it. I’m writing it because I need to write it, for myself and for my children. If it ever turns up as something you can put on your bedside table, I’ll let you know.
