Tag Archives: Mrs. B at Home

Thanksgiving Bounty

November 28, 2008UncategorizedMrs. B at HomeMrs. Blandings

I worked with a wonderful woman during the early years of my marriage and parenting. One year she told me that it was a Thanksgiving tradition in their family to have a Christmas ornament for each person who shared their holiday meal. I immediately stole the idea and have presented ornaments to family and guests when we have been lucky enough to dine at home.

Wednesday during breakfast my middle son announced, “I can’t wait to see what our ornaments are this year.” Heavens. In the midst of the holiday card making and the school projects I had forgotten to get the ornaments. I knew a quick trip to Hall’s would be an easy solution; they have great ornaments and there was sure to be something for everyone.

While there I overheard another shopper saying, “This one’s for Susie and this one’s for Stacy and this one is for Bob and this is for what’s-her-name.” “Excuse me?,” said the clerk. “Hurmph. My daughter-in-law.” I’m quite sure the feeling is mutual.

So this year the eldest received boy’s best friend, the middle, a turtle to commemorate his new pet and the youngest, a cupcake, because he is one and would live on sugar given the chance. Mr. Blandings received a grill. To say he was overjoyed would be an exaggeration. He has never bought into the ornament obsession and feels sure we have enough. And the other boxer? A gift from my mother-in-law who would never call me “what’s-her-name.” The feeling is entirely mutual.

Trick or Treat II

October 31, 2008UncategorizedMrs. B at Home, ProductMrs. Blandings

Darn. I mean, “everything breaks,” but still. Darn. It wasn’t his fault, exactly. He was throwing the toy for Rosie. It wasn’t news that we don’t throw toys in the house, but it was rainy and he was playing with Rosie and, well. There was no use in yelling or lecturing as the remorse was real and immediate. But, really, darn.

At the last trip to the showroom, in an area where I had no business being, there was this. New. From Scalamandre.

Tarim. A cut and loop velvet. I do have a fabric problem. Don’t tell, but I have a small sack of fabric samples and when my self-declared sample return days come around there are a few that I pick up from the sack and then put back. “Not today. Soon, but not today.” Careful if you fall in love with this one too deeply, it’s quite dear.

And, the ladybugs are back. I tried to take pictures of this last Fall, but could not capture it. Dozens and dozens of ladybugs on the Dream House.

When I’m sitting at my desk I can see them in the back yard flying about. The sun just catches them so that they show up like some kind of fire fly in reverse.

They are everywhere and we all carry them in unknowingly on coats and back packs and sweaters. Last night as Mr. Blandings was gathering them up to release them back outside the youngest protested, “But Dad, they’re lucky!” As are we for the week or so that they polka dot our home.

And, the Ina Garten book signing was its own kind of fun. She did not speak really, but said a gracious hello and thank you and got down to the business of signing over seven hundred books. Rainy Day had beautifully organized the event so no needless waiting was necessary. The true disappointment was getting to the table and realizing that she is so engaging and would really like to visit, but there were five hundred people waiting so perhaps she couldn’t. I’d long for a leisurely lunch outside with Ina, but my lunch date with Mr. Blandings was equally delightful.

And, last minute plans. I’m off to New York on Tuesday to see my big city friend and hopefully meet up with a few of my on-line buddies. It’s a bit fast and furious, but I can hardly wait. Oh, how I do love that city.

Artwork by Patricia van Essche, a piece she did for me at the beginning of our friendship. It is such a treat for me to see it everyday.

Trick or Treat

October 24, 2008UncategorizedMrs. B at HomeMrs. Blandings

It’s been quite a week. (I’ve been recently accused of being obsessed with myself, so be forewarned, this is all about me.) Last Saturday, the youngest Blandings took a tumble at soccer and broke his clavicle. That graceful sweeping collarbone on the left of your screen is the healthy one; the wretched angle on the right of the screen is the source of a very tough go. We are both on the mend but are in agreement that skeletons can be scary.

We’d been reading Charlotte’s Web and Wilbur offered some solace during the worst of the discomfort. Almost simultaneously, this monstrous spider appeared by the light by the front step.

She’s really, really big. And clever. When you exit the front door she scampers up her web into the black fixture and you can barely see her.

I went around from the back to get a picture for the boys as they have yet to glimpse her up close. The eldest took the picture to school and came home declaring her an American House Spider. She is welcome to live on the outside of this American house, but is not invited in regardless of her seasonal appeal.

During the convalescence, mail delivery took on a new meaning. I always feel like the mail carrier is Santa Claus and never understand folks who are not johnny-on-the-spot when he or she arrives. This week I was so excited to receive the pictures from the Anthony Bourdain event, but once I’d opened the envelope I was horrified. Above, me and Mr. B. Lovely, fine. Enjoying our evening. Nice.

And then, here I am beaming at my brush with celebrity. Yikes, how awful. I look like I am preparing for a dental exam. Fairly bursting with excitement. I look like I might break something. Or, as Mr. Blandings said, “wet myself.” Then look at Bourdain. Pleasant. Obviously looking over the head of the photographer for the closest waiter. On the right is Darren Mark, the consummate gentleman, who agreed to be photographed with me as I was too shy to go alone. Darren is a fellow writer at Spaces and interviewed Bourdain for the last issue. As we neared my prey I pretended to let him off the hook, “You don’t have to go with me if you don’t want to.” “Really? Great!” “No, not really.” Thank heavens he did. Clearly I needed a chaperone. Or a mask.

Enough tricks, here’s the treat. You might have seen it already as it was originally spied by Renee Finberg, I believe on a recent trip to Maine. A chinoiserie pumpkin. I simply adore this. If I could do it myself, surely I would save my talents for something more permanent. Or, if I could do this it wouldn’t matter because then I could do it on darn near anything. But I can’t, so I will need to limit myself to jagged triangle eyes and trying to keep myself from eating all the Snickers before Halloween.

Bourdain photos courtesy of ShotBee.

This is the House the Blandings Built

October 15, 2008UncategorizedMrs. B at HomeMrs. Blandings

This is the zinc chest that came from Steve Rogers that freed up the table.

This is the table that moved to the kitchen to hold the lamp.

This is the lamp that moved from the radiator to sit on the table.

This is the lamp that came from Christopher’s to replace the lamp that moved to the table.

This is the base of the lamp from Christopher’s that resembles the pup who lights up the room.

That lay in the house the Blandings built.

Shade hunt starts today!

Buzzer Shot

September 22, 2008UncategorizedMrs. B at HomeMrs. Blandings

Would you be worried if you were throwing a dinner party for twelve people with someone and you showed up at 5:30 and this was as far as she had gotten on the table?

Fortunately for me, my co-host is lovely and unflappable. She and Mr. Blandings had divided the cooking duty and the menu was in tip-top shape. Occasionally, during the week, she’d ask, “What are you thinking about the table?” “I’ll know it when I see it. It’s evolving.” But it wasn’t, really.

The weather in Kansas City has been unbelievable all week so we agreed that dining outside would be a treat. A few years ago Mr. Blanding’s family planned a 50th birthday party for the eldest sibling. When we went to meet with the event coordinator he showed us two colors of blue tablecloths, the one below and another, deeper blue. We agreed the other blue was best for the event, but when the planner left the room I clutched Mr. Blandings’s sleeve and said, “I know I said I wanted to be cremated, but now I don’t; I want my casket lined with these tablecloths. I need them for eternity.” Decades old, cotton that feels like silk, washed dozens and dozens of times with care, their hand is indescribable.

Branches from the crab apple out front, cloches from Pear Tree, amazing chocolates from Annedore’s and we were finally set. If I had had my vision before 3 p.m. the tulipieres could have been filled with parrot tulips instead of having to make do with a few. But I learned my lesson for next time.

The event was a Progressive Dinner for the boys’ school. It’s my favorite school sponsored event as you have the opportunity to meet parents outside your usual circle. No exception, we had a great mix Saturday night. The ages or our oldests ranged from three to fourteen and most folks did not know each other that well if at all, though I’m sure any neighborhood eavesdropper would have thought we were the best of friends.

Our dessert hostess was gracious about our slightly tardy arrival. As our co-hosts fretted over the piles of dishes we left towering around the kitchen, I told them not to worry. They’d done enough. Even if they had not brought Chester’s Favorite Apple and Parsnip Soup I would have been satisfied with their sentiment when we had finished setting the table and I went up, finally, to take my shower. “It’s so nice to feel so at home when you’re not at home.”

It was a perfect evening before it even started.