When I slept in the boys room to accommodate the aforementioned patient, I reacted badly to the clock that seemed fit for a Pink Panther episode. There I was, too tall for my bed, too much on my mind, with a pillow over my head to block out the tock, tock, tock. I finally rose to remove the battery after lying there forever not wanting to get up and praying for sleep.

It was down for days, but the inhabitants complained, and now it is back. But I do think there needs to be something new. Better. Possibly the George Nelson Ball Clock. Ubiquitous perhaps, but classic nonetheless.

George Nelson graduated with a degree in architecture from Yale in 1928. He traveled extensively in Europe over the next few years and returned to the States, “a convinced modernist.”

He was an accomplished writer and advocate of the modern movement as well as a designer. His hanging “storagewall” brought him to the attention of, and eventually into business with, the Herman Miller Company.

He introduced the ball clock in 1950, though the clocks were only identified by numbers at the time. He designed an estimated 150 clocks during his partnership with Herman Miller. The company produced the clocks into the 1980’s until they were discontinued. Vitra resumed production in the 1990’s.

What has become known as the “eye” clock, below, was originally pictured at an angle in the catalogue, not horizontally as it is usually placed today.

We visited one of Mr. Blanding’s friends in Chicago many years ago, certainly before mid-Century was the rage, and her husband had a collection of Nelson ball clocks in nearly every color. She made him hang them in the garage. I remember seeing them on the way out to dinner and thinking, “fabulous.”

But while I consider the ball clock for boys 1 and 2, and am so tempted by the owl for number 3, it is the desk clocks that have captured my heart. Jennifer at the Peak of Chic posted this picture of domino editor Sara Ruffin Costello’s bedroom last May. The Flowering Quince from Clarence House certainly dominates the shot, but I zeroed in on the bedside clock.

Not exactly the one I had my eye on, though I love the tripod base.

The more I post, the more aware I am becoming of my own taste. These desk clocks are so sculptural.

I want one on my desk, but as I’m in the habit of watching the digital clock in the corner of my screen, I might have to place the clock in front of it.

This is the one. Black face, white dots in place of numbers, and red second hand. I couldn’t design it myself as I am not a 20th century icon. But, if I could, this would be the one. As I said, Vitra has reissued many designs and there are dozens of on-line vendors standing by. This handsome number is vintage. He stands patiently, on 1st dibs, waiting for someone, me perhaps, to take him home. Nelson thought a collection should be permanent, not “scrapped for every new trend.” I think he would be satisfied.

Mr. Blandings and I are a good match for a lot of reasons, but one of the critical ones is he is an amazing cook and I am not. But I do love to eat. For many years when we were first married, and even after the addition of the first baby, I would come home from work, put on comfy clothes and wait for Mr. Blandings to come home and fix dinner. I know this is flying in the face of traditional gender roles, but I was awful and he was great and it seemed a little silly for both of us to eat badly, especially since he liked to cook.

But, eventually, the boys were eating solid food and I quit my job, and it seemed a little silly for us to be sitting at home, a little grouchy and hungry, waiting for Mr. Blandings to arrive.

I did try. I simply don’t have an affinity for it. No feel. What is the equivalent of a “good eye” in the kitchen? I don’t have it. But we muddled through and Mr. Blandings, as is his nature, was always very polite.

Then one day someone recommended the Barefoot Contessa cookbooks. Shaking my head, assuring her I was beyond professional help, my friend emphatically replied, “It’s easy! It’s great! You’ll totally get her because it’s never a list of ingredient as long as your arm and you won’t need a dictionary to look up the techniques. Ina is the answer.”

So I bought Ina Garten’s Barefoot Contessa Parties. And it changed my life. It’s easy! It’s great! And I don’t need a dictionary or a trip to the Asian market.

And then, oddly, I became hooked. I have all her cookbooks. And I use them. And I’m…good. Better. Now Mr. Blandings and I sit down together to watch Ina’s cooking show on the Food Network. The only problem is, I became a little obsessed with her house. The kitchen hooked me. Green walls, white cabinets, black counter tops. Finally, something to love about cooking.

But I’m always craning my head around the corner trying to see into her living room. I looked on line, but I couldn’t find anything. Apparently, it hadn’t been photographed. Except it had, in 1994, while I was still drinking wine in my KU sweatshirt waiting for Mr. Blandings, Ina’s charming Hamptons home was in House Beautiful.

It’s changed a bit, but it’s remarkably the same. The kitchen island is black granite now and the upholstery in the living room has been updated, but the house is strikingly similar to the images from 14 years ago.

Ina’s New York apartment was in House Beautiful this past year. It is also clean and simple. And chic.

The lines are classic and sculptural, the colors mostly neutral and soothing.

With some pop.

We are now best friends because she allowed this chair to be photographed with the fabric that it is going to be recovered in. But isn’t yet. I like a girl like that.

And she has the amazing Ted Muehling candlesticks. 

It was so nice of Ina to let us have a peak at the New York pad. The thing is, I hate to be nosy, but I still want to see a new spread on the Hamptons house. Really.

Could she possibly think that we’ve seen enough on the Food Network? Not nearly. And the magnifying glass doesn’t help a bit, even with the DVR on pause. Maybe I just need to stop by for a cup of sugar.

I have a picture of a mirror in my head. Not a non-existent mirror that I have dreamed up, although I do have a problem with that kind of thing as well. No, a real image of a mirror from one of the many design books in my office. I think.

I was sure it was from Mariette Himes Gomez’s “Rooms.” So, I whisked it under my arm on the way out the door this morning.

Alas, it was not there. But I noticed, as I was flipping frantically, then thumbing slowly, that Gomez has a way with mirrors and maybe that was why I thought it had to be there.

Most of the mirrors she chooses are almost works of art. While her rooms are usually crisp and subtle, her mirrors have a lot of interest.

I think she is especially strong with furniture placement, but noticed today that she has a great eye for placing mirrors and art as well.

She often uses pairs, which always seems just right. This little vignette above would be pretty easy to replicate on almost any budget. And so charming.

The chinoiserie mirror is terrific, but especially so as it is placed in this pristine environment. All that white makes it pop.

I noticed the smaller mirror on larger mirror a couple of times. The arrangement above is genius as it is reflecting the light from the window which makes the whole room sunny and warm. Also, who doesn’t want a vanity mirror? Instant glamour.

So, like running into a good friend, it was fun to see Mariette again. Now I have to go home and see if I remembered something real or not. Large, oval, black with white “dots,” possibly mother-of-pearl or ivory inlay? Does she sound familiar? Let me know. Wild goose chases welcome; something good is always bound to turn up.