The Ikea cabinets-- glossy white Abstrakt with birch counters-- are purchased, but not yet delivered. All the decisions have been made, except for handles and lighting, so I really should stop scouring the internets for inspiring pictures, but I can't. It's a sickness.
So cute. (Two following pics.).
I'm still contemplating chalkboard paint.
This post on Decorno got me thinking about what many people call sofas. My grandmother calls them davenports. I wish I had the guts to sport that affectation.
When we got married, Rex’s and my taxable income came to about $11K--, not $111K, no, you read those two digits correctly, so our furniture was all donated. We had a lovely old camel-back sofa courtesy of Rex’s grandmother. It had been upholstered in a pinkish toile, but his roommate’s cat shredded the toile irreparably, so Rex ripped it off, leaving the muslin, which quickly got filthy. When I moved in with him, I reupholstered the couch in a dark jewel-tone tapestry-style fabric using brass tacks and a glue gun. It looked fine, although it was rather uncomfortable.
(This is the pink toile, all that's left is a pillow.)
I wonder if my white paint fever could be classified as an illness, thereby allowing me to take two weeks sick leave in order to paint every room in my house.
(From Pink Wallpaper.)
Like most things, Rex was way ahead of the curve on this one. The other day I was rhapsodizing about my new love of white paint and he said the equivalent of, duh, we figured that out in art school.
I did like the unstained pine planks (that's Rex, hard at work), but they would get filthy in the kitchen, and I think the dark stain will look lovely with white cabinets.
That's the first coat of polyurethane. The second coat is being rolled on right now, and it's not unlike a chemical attack. How many coats do you think we should do in the kitchen? More than three?
Rex had a hidden talent. I knew he could install the window boxes, he is quite handy, but I did not know he had such a talent for arranging flowers. I wonder if I could hire him out...
This morning, while I was still mostly comatose, the Younger Child asked Rex to tell her about Easter. This may have been a mistake on her part.
Rex: The Easter Bunny is really just the Easter Rat with long fluffy ears. He ties his long rat tail up in a bun. He's just a more fashionable rat.
The Easter Rat brings little baskets of dirt-covered rocks, leaves them at your house and then stands outside your door listening to you break your teeth on the rocks.
The Easter Rat says, "Easter Rat rules this town! I do what I want!."
Younger Child: Daaaaad.
I live in Philly, near the Italian Market.
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