Van Day Truex’s first home in Provence, House & Garden, March, 1984.

There’s a bit of a jump here, so pay attention. There is a toy store in Brookside, our neighborhood shopping center, called Brookside Toy and Science. It is a gift that my boys are growing up in walking distance of a whole line of shops owned by independent store-owners. It’s great fun to kill an afternoon at Reading Reptile and getting ice cream or popcorn and going to the toy store.

So while they bee-line to the Legos and cars, I head to the back where the “science” lives.” All types of funky taxidermy, stones, skeletons, mounted butterflies and beetles. And two giant carved tusks.

Un-uh. Didn’t ask. No idea how these came to be here. Originally marked at $250,000 they are reduced to 99% off – $2,500 – for the pair. A furrowed brow came up over the counter as I snapped the shot. I just smiled. Just killing a little time in the ‘hood checking out the quarter of a million dollar tusks. I’m just saying, you have to keep your eyes open. You never know where something interesting is going to turn up.

Right after Mr. Blandings and I were married I discovered that two of my favorite friends from college did not know each other. “Nearly impossible!” I protested. They had frequented the same watering holes with some regularity. “You would love each other!” I declared over and over.

1940’s French leather club chairs with nailhead trim.

One night, morning actually, about 2 a.m. our doorbell rang. I’m a bit of a chicken. I pleaded with Mr. Blandings not to go to the door. I cowered in the hallway as he rounded the corner to hear “Land Sharks!” being yelled through the side light. My friends had found one another.
Jacque Adnet adjustable arm lamp, 1930’s.

Imagine my delight while clicking through 1st dibs to see C. S. Post offering pieces on the site. C.S. Post, you will remember, is owned by Chuck Comeau, who also owns Dessin Fournir.

Swedish side chairs, 19th century.

Comeau is one of my favorite shining examples of farmland fabulous.

Chrome and mirror table attributed to Jacque Adnet, 1930’s.

I have to say, I think he’s showing off a bit.

French two piece banquette, recovered in sable French cotton velvet, early 20th century.
Is this what you were expecting from Plainville, Kansas? Really? I was.

English Regency Sofa, early 19th century.
Oh, Chuck, how did you know?
English Regency klismos chairs, 19th century.

Book a seat. Rent a car.

Pair English corner shelves, 19th century.
We’d love to have you stop in to our little Midwestern wonderland. Just please don’t ring the bell at 2 a.m.

This book, Maira Kalman’s The Principles of Uncertainty, is currently residing on my desk. A dear friend gave it to me over the holidays and I’ve been meaning to share it with you. While working on some homework today, my fifth-grader asked me if I was reading it. I told him I’d finished, but that it is the type of book you can pick up over and over again, in almost any spot, and find something you like. I thought he would understand this, being a great lover of Calvin and Hobbes.

Which is exactly the reason I am recommending this book. Nestled cozy in my dream house in the Midwest, I was unaware of the (somewhat controversial) Times Select option of the New York Times, or of Maira Kalman’s contributions the first Wednesday of the month throughout 2007.

Lucky for me, they have been compiled into a book. A much better way to enjoy her wonderful paintings and amusing, and sometimes unsettling, musings.

You might recognize Kalman’s work from the re-issue of Strunk and White’s Elements of Style. Also charming and indispensable. A welcome replacement to the one Mrs. Vilella thrust into my hand in high school.

Not all of Kalman’s illustrations are of interiors. But those are my favorites. The color explodes and will assuage your fear of red or pink or green or whatever hue has you tossing and turning in your Porthaults. And, if you have read the book or the Times Select, I think you would agree that Kalman would enjoy the principle/principal conundrum.
And, no, I didn’t ask him. Sometimes life needs a little ambiguity.

Courtney had a fun post this week inspired by Thom Filicia’s show Dress My Nest. On the show, Filicia has his clients pick three personal things that best tell their story and three favorite articles of clothing. If you check out Courtney’s picks, you’ll feel you know a lot about her. I thought the game was fun, so I’m playing along. Or I’m copying. Depends on how you look at it.

I hate to go on, but I love it. I have a huge remnant as the repeat is something ridiculous like 88″. I’ve often thought of making a skirt or a light weight 3/4 length coat out of it. Big black buttons. Which would make Thom’s job easier because then it would be on the thing list and the clothes list.

The Christmas compotes would be next. I know they’re new and you are thinking I’m so enamored because it’s the beginning of the relationship. But I truly think this is the first thing to come into the dream house that reflects my new-found awareness of my attraction to all things sculptural. I think the compotes and I are in it for the long haul.

Which brings us to the beads. I have a lot of beads. I’ve loved jewelry as long as I can remember. I don’t actually wear many necklaces. Just beads. These were a gift from Mr. Blandings.

When we were dating a life long friend of his became a friend of mine. She and her mother threw a bridal shower for me when we became engaged. The mother and daughter are very different, but they are the two best kinds of women. Both are gracious and lovely and would not consider not sending you a thank you note if they were entertained in your home. Ever. My friend is tall and bold and friendly and funny. She says what she thinks and makes me laugh until I have tears in my eyes. Her mother is quiet and elegant and slight and always makes me feel like she is genuinely glad to see me.

At the shower, which was all things girlie as bridal showers should be, my friend’s mother wore a string of Chinese turquoise beads like nothing I had ever seen. As large as shooter marbles and doubled over – they would have reached her waist if they’d been worn straight.

I did not need to go looking through pictures to remember these beads even though the shower was sixteen years ago. They are forever seared in my mind as something so right. Mr. Blandings gave me mine for my thirtieth birthday and I treasure them. While my strand is smaller than its inspiration, it can still make that bone at the base of my neck ache a bit if I’ve had them on too long. I can’t imagine the weight of the original strand nor how it must weigh on the slim neck it adorns. You’d never know. Head up, shoulders back. Pure grace. If I could copy that, I would.