An ode to my Effie, who revealed at the vet yesterday that she has no fear of dogs.

So I'm not great at posting, and I'm not in the habit.

The management company was unwilling to work with us or switch apartments, so we got a refund and I lost what was very close to my dream apartment. We hunted for a week and a half, and settled on an acceptable one.

It isn't as nice as the other, but it's acceptable. There is no fireplace, but it is bigger. A 2-bed with living and dining room. The 2nd bedroom will be man space and my expanded closet; the dining room will be the studio. The bathroom is tiled pink, and makes me kind of sad. It's on the 3rd floor, which is a good thing because it's the top floor and we won't have noise from above, and the building is exceptionally nice with subway tile and beveled glass doors. It's actually really nice. There's just nothing to gush over. I guess. At least I don't have to worry about having enough space. I will kind of miss the ivy covered building, proximity to a T, glass-fronted cabinets, and a working fireplace that would have made the winters here almost bearable.

Packing the apartment has been going well enough. We managed to get an appropriately large truck and a couple of movers for a couple of hours, so I can afford to be less neurotic about my ability to lift furniture.

Oh. Packing my closet was a particular treat when I found Effie's stash of dead mice. She seems to enjoy her new title of death-bringer. most of them were rather...stiff.

Livejournal, my weekend sucked.

Lets start this tale with  Friday, August 1st: The day we got the keys to our new apartment. On the way to the car that morning, I stepped on a tack that penetrated through my shoe and into the ball of my foot. Awesome. We drove to Cambridge, picked up the keys, and the 7-day temporary parking permit as well.

Well, when we walked in, Scott went into his new study to see if our ceiling fan would fit in there. And noticed that where there was once a window into the bathroom, there was no window, but rather a wall.

Okay. Walking into the bathroom, then, which when we signed the lease for the place looked like this:

now looks like this:

That charming wall (which, as you can see, did not exist before) was constructed to back the new built-in shower. The clawfoot tub was removed, as was my beloved subway tile, and the walls were tiled up to chest height. The window, apparently, had to be removed to accommodate the new built-in shower unit. The walls were also entirely retextured.

But the surprises didn't end there.

This was the kitchen, again, when we signed the lease:

Hardwoods in a kitchen, you say? How glorious!

Until now:

...yeah. So we didn't move in. Though there were other glorious surprises, like that someone had written on the walls of the hallway with pencil (does that say dump?):

and that the pipes in the bedroom had been artfully wrapped in duct tape:

Needless to say, we were rather upset. Scott called the management company, and they said that it could all be put back the way it was, but Livejournal, that would take months (especially to demolish two walls and reinstall a window!). They said they would speak with the maintenance crew and call us back.  An hour and a half later, no calls had come, and a man came in to finish cleaning. He said that this was the most renovation that he had ever seen them do to a bathroom, and was shocked that we didn't like it. Actually, he was very helpful in his opinions of David, my main contact at Harvard Street Management: "really, really nice, but not all that helpful or bright". He showed us another unit in the building that was also empty and being worked on: no study or dining room, and a kitchen about 4 feet deep. He offered to call the management company for us, since they weren't returning our calls, and offered to let us in any other units they said might be available.

But at this point, we decided to return to the management company in person. When we got there, they told us that there weren't any other apartments available, at all (we had already seen two other vacant ones at this point). We were told that the owner of the company wasn't in that day, that he was in the hospital. We were also told that our realtor knew that the apartment was going to be renovated, and that it was therefore the realtors' fault, and not theirs. When Scott asked, then, if they were not going to help us, they said no. He told them that this was illegal, and a classic bait-and-switch, and that if they were not going to help us, they would be hearing from our lawyer, to which the very old and large woman to whom we had been speaking rolled her eyes and said, "Oh again with the lawyers... this was not a bait-and switch--the apartment is better now anyway." So we left.

Next step, when we got into the car, was to call our realtor, Alyssa, who hadn't returned a phone call or e-mail since we paid her fee. She didn't answer this time either, so we called the office, and asked to speak to a manager. The conversation went like this:

Scott: "Are you a manager?"

woman: "That depends... what do you want?"

Scott: "It depends?"

So he went over what had happened, and that the management company had claimed that they knew renovations were going to happen, and that it was their fault, and we were told that we would get a call within a half hour.

Left our parking space to go somewhere and share a sandwich, when we watched the drivers of two delivery  trucks go from honking to shouting to shoving, and then a fistfight. Oh, how I love Boston.

Another hour later, and still, no calls back from anyone. So we decided to head over to the realtors' office. I was tressing pretty badly, so I stayed in the car while Scott went in and spoke with the guy in charge. He looked up the information the management company had originally sent them, and there was nothing about renovations. They decided to go back to the management office together.

Once inside (I came with), the staff was all sweetness and light. Nothing could be done, but they were very sorry. Then there were, in fact, other apartments available, but for September rather than August, and why don't we just move into the one we rented and sort it out later. When we made it clear, yet again, that we were not going to do that, the fat old woman pulled out the guilt: "The owner is in the hospital, and I am not going to call him today in the middle of his procedure. I don't know if you've ever had to go to the hospital..." I rolled my eyes rather obviously, while Scott feigned understanding. Everyone assured us that the owner was a reasonable man, and that something could be worked out. We were told to expect a call from him Saturday. Friday night the man from the real estate office called to offer us a 2-bed for Sept 1 for 2200. Scott made it clear that wasn't an option: They screw us over and then expect us to pay more money? Yeah.

Saturday came, and we decided to go to the Cape. We stopped in Plymouth for breakfast, where I had a veggie omelet with something strange in it. Thought it was a stem, and pulled it out of my mouth, but lo and behold, it was a twist tie. I was thoroughly offended, but didn't bother sending the food back. Spent the rest of the day rather uncomfortably ill. Traffic on the rest of the way to the Cape was like something out of the Truman show: you turn a corner, and traffic is inexplicably stopped for miles. We turned around and went home, where I remained ill from my food. Not a call from the management company.

Sunday. Livejournal, I know this is starting to sound like fiction, but I swear it's all true. Sunday, we had a fight in the morning, and then went to Dedham for breakfast. Walking up to the restaurant, I stepped on a rusty screw, which penetrated the same shoe, and rather seriously injured the same foot. Breakfast was okay, and we went home, and did nothing, and then spent a couple of hours fighting, which was pretty awesome.

Then I woke up this morning.

What you're seeing there is my very lovely right eye.

Still no word on the apartment.

Livejournal,

Two days ago I bought a new laptop, and I think it's quite lovely.

It's a Sony, which Scott finds morally reprehensible and I'm doing my best to pretend it's not, but there it is. I actually got a laptop for my birthday this year, but Livejournal, "ugly" was an understatement for the redlighted concoction of ginormous monstrosities of the thing, and this one is quite the opposite, which pleases me immensely. And truth be told, my first major digital camera was a Sony, and it was truly wonderful.

I plan to get it engraved, with something like this:

but rather something of my own design. And by that I mean I've been going through upwards of a thousand pages from my Styles of Ornament books (all historical, non-copyrighted decorative styles), and looking for inspiring things. Right now I'm envisioning an acorn-garland border with a peacock draped over the Vaio logo, with some chinese moths fluttering about. Maybe the peacock is holding a banner in it's beak with my name artfully scrolled. Too much? yes, oh yes. Or course my original idea was to get my favorite crystal pattern engraved into it:

but I don't know how that will work, what with the curvature. Or maybe my favorite china pattern? Oh my.

Hello Livejournal,

We get the keys to our new apartment the day after tomorrow, so today I thought it would be nice to post an homage to our outgoing home, where I will have lived for four years exactly when our lease is up in September. I'll miss it rather a lot.

Livejournal, some days I feel absolutely nowhere. It's 9:15 on a Saturday night and I have to say, I've spent the last 11 hours feeling sad. Some days, it would be nice to have more than 1 friend to call up. I do wish I could fix some things on that front. Really, though, I'm alone and I feel awful.

Hello Livejournal,

So it looks like I'm not very good at posting daily or drawing daily. This week was okay. I finally got around to reupholstering a papasan cushion for the woman who I'm consulting for, which sucked but turned out nicely. I had my mom impersonate me and call my new management company so see if 1) it were possible to switch units in our new building without breaking the lease, and 2) if we could have a two-bedroom for $2000. Yes on both accounts, though the response was thoroughly delayed. Turns out the only "2" bed available right now is being heavily renovated, and when we looked at it yesterday, it was almost smaller than our current place. So, it looks like we're staying with our original unit.

On the daily drawing front, it wasn't working because I was spending 2-3 hours painting what were meant to be 1-hour max exercises. But I think they were coming out rather nicely, and I'd like to do at least one or two a week. Here's the one from last Friday, 7/18:

Also this week, I went shopping for a project to work on (inspired, embarrassingly enough, by those on design sponge). I found a pretty exciting table at Saver's on Thursday, and picked it up:

Then I got to sanding it, by hand, which felt kind of pointless and painful, so I went to Home Depot yesterday and picked up a Ryobi detail sander, which I'm quite pleased with. A nasty old man walked past me as I was looking at it in the store, snickered, and asked if I was buying a present for someone. I kind of wanted to kill him. A lot.

Anyways, here is the current state of the table:

I think it's coming out quite well. I bought a quart of oil-based gray semigloss to coat it in, and planned to cover the top (the white bit that used to be leather) in this amy butler print:

But I'm feeling some hesitation because I don't want it to look too poppy-modern, and because I've never really used oil-based paint before, and I think I want it to look more... classic? I'm kind of loving the way the sanding brought out a lot of variation in the wood, and I'd kind of like to preserve that, but there is WAY too much wood-colored furniture going on in the apartment right now. Maybe I could pickle it?

On a different subject, I don't know how much of my marriage to include here. I'd rather stay mostly quiet on the subject, given that just about anyone can read this and be accordingly unkind, but it does seem rather false to leave Scott entirely out of a reflection of my life. We had a nasty fight this morning, and I find myself alone right now and rather unhappy. I very much hope that the weekend picks up.

Livejournal, I'd like to make my view on Bostonians clear.

Never in my life have I seen a place with inhabitants as ill-bred, ill-mannered, lewd, and combative as those in this city in which I've lived for four years now.

First, I'd like to tackle the "accent" as it were, though it is less charitably likened to the drawl of the mentally disabled. Seriously, the letter R is not that difficult to pronounce, and your use of it on the radio does not give you a tie to whatever "roots" with which you choose to identify.

Secondly I'd like to address the habit that nearly every resident (man woman or child) has of spitting. Not just on the street, and not in a cowboy-like manner of inconspicuously spitting one's chewing tobacco into a dedicated container. I'm talking about the snorting, gagging, lugi hock that comes, inevitably, up not only in public places, but indoors and in semi-enclosed spaces like, say, the subway.

Thirdly, (and BU girls, listen up!) the number of women here who don't seem to understand the basics of dressing, let alone standards of a piddling thing like modesty, or at least, public nudity. A moderate wind should not (not!) blow three inches of fabric skywards and give me and the rest of traffic a view of your commando-clad rear. Same goes for tank tops. Built in bras are a godsend, but when I can see all, yes, all of your nipples (like the part where the skin gets darker and every subsequent bump), you've crossed a line. Yes, yes you have.

Finally, dear Boston, we are not living in the dark ages. Install air conditioning in at least your public places, and practice the rules of common courtesy! I know this is the Southern Belle in me talking, but maybe, try catching the door for the person right behind you, or at least, don't shove her off of the sidewalk.

Cheers.

Dear Livejournal.


From 7/17:


From 7/16:

Hello Livejournal,
I don't want to overdo this whole, updating you multiple times a day on every aspect of my life thing, but today is a sad day for Effie as we are selling her favorite couch. She will be very, very unhappy about this.

So to commemorate their strong bond, I give you:

Hi Livejournal,
I hope to make a couple of postings today, as I have many a photo to edit and I hope posting them on here will be a way to inspire me to, well, edit them.

We get the keys to our new place 2 weeks from today, and I am filled with joy and trepidation. How truly glorious to not be in the lewd and combative Jamaica Plain, with the leering Hispanic man next door who yells at me for parking next to his garbage. But how sad to leave my customized little palace, with my glorious wallpaper and sconces (the sconces are coming with me).

For now, Livejournal, here are photos of the new place. (Not it, exactly, but the same layout on a different floor). I shall look through my stained glass windows while watching the fire in my fireplace burn.



Linnaean Street became such in 1846; before that, it was known as Love Lane. This makes me happy.
Our building was built in 1914; coincidentally, so was the building we live in now.

Hello again livejournal,
Day two of writing as a commemoration of daily activity. Yesterday, I claimed status as a freelancer, and yesterday afternoon, I justified myself by getting freelance work as an interior decorator. Yay me on that account.

Today, I met with my first client (Shelley), and saw her 80s workout video inspired home. I am rather excited to be paid for imparting advice, and was sent home with a papasan cushion to reupholster which must match her 80s pastel watercolor splashed throw pillows. She has decided to repaint her lilac sponged livingroom a shade of teal I once used in my Rainforest Cafe-inspired period in my dad's beachhouse when I was about 12. I tried, livejournal, I did try, to gently steer her towards something a little more subdued, but alas, she was insistent. Instead, I chose a coordinating shade of white for her to paint her currently very purple trim. I hope this shall be a fruitful collaboration; my client seems genuinely nice, and I need to develop people skills. Perhaps the way to that is not ridiculing them publicly on my blog. My blog. What have I begun? Ouch.

Also, on my foray into self improvement, I have decided to begin keeping an art journal once again. I hope to post the fruits of my labor here in the future. Please be kind; I am rather rusty.

Hello Livejournal,
It's been quite a while. I suppose I was scared off by the assumption that my life was interesting enough to, well, blog about, and the somewhat large egoism implied therein. However, it's lately occurred to me that reflection is an important part of this life I live, and if  I fail to record the minor triumphs in my daily life, they will one day be forgotten, and I won't have anything to look back on to remind me of them. And so, I hope, this will serve as a record for myself, if for no one else.

Since my last post...I got a job as a Display Coordinator in Anthropologie, the mecca that I so loved, and quit it six months later. I graduated from college, and celebrated my second and third wedding anniversaries. Otherwise, nothing else has really changed in life: I still have my elderly Effie, and my lovely apartment, though we're moving upwards in class and downwards in space to Cambridge, just about three weeks from now. I still have all of my little neurosis and quirks, and seem to have suffered minorly from that. I'm currently unemployed, though I prefer the idea that I'm freelancing. I've started raising orchids, which it turns out I'm rather good at.

i'm so bored i think i might faint. without effie to talk to, life has been all about the cleaning. my resolution to not seriously grocery shop because i have so much packaged food in the pantry is pathetic. other than poataoes and rice, there is a single nectarine and yogurt. school starts tomorrow. thank god for that.

yesterday was a triumph. the snow was melting, so i ventured into the terrain on a mission to hobby lobby for christmas craft supplies, had breakfast, and read a little.

at hobby lobby, i found the match to my bedside lamp! half off! so i bought two, because it was just slightly smaller, and the finish on the globe was shinier.

today i woke up to effie lying on my shoulder, nose touching my face, purring very loudly. i also woke up to feet of pristine, white, hellaciously depressing snow. which means that i stayed in today and stripped wallpaper from my newest home-improvement pet project, the upstairs bathroom.

not much else to report, i suppose.

so, getting here was catastrophic.

4:30 AM Friday-1:30 AM Saturday marked my first road trip ever, from Boston to Grand Rapids. It also marked New England's first snow storm of the winter, and my first time ever driving in the snow. One thousand miles.

I crashed my car the first time when I slid right off of the road and bulldozed a mile marker. I lost my first headlight.

A few hours later, I crashed the second time. Into a very solid metal barrier. I lost the second headlight, and the entire front corner of my car. Seriously. You can now look straight into the engine.

Both of these things happened before I made it 250 miles in. I spent the rest of the trip (750 miles) doing 45 with my blinkers on, white-knuckled and gripping the steering wheel so hard that by the end, I couldn't actually open my hands. The stress also managed to burst every blood vessel in my right eye, so now it's just this bloody looking mess. And I drove straight through, making it a 21-hour trip.

I stopped at Meijer before getting to the house, and picked up some flowers and mistletoe. It was very nice to do.

Saturday was Scott's work Christmas Party at the Amway Grand Plaza, and it was the first time that I've been introduced as, and felt like, a wife. I took comfort in the fact that I was by far the best-dressed person there. (Seriously, patent leather boots, a mini skirt and a holiday sweater to a five-star hotel? or a twinset?)

Since then, I've been renovating the upstairs of the house, trying to scrub out the essence of male cat, and trying to get ready for Christmas. We're getting our first tree and buying our first ornaments tonight. I feel very cutsey housewife about it all.

My board was on Monday. I got full credit, but it was so disappointing. I didn't get feedback that interested me, but rather I felt like I was being given assignments and told to feel excited about them. I got an email from someone who saw my work at the December Sale, and apparently she writes the Contemporary Photo column for House and Garden magazine. She wanted to set up an appointment to go through my portfolio and talk. It's been so long since I had a portfolio. Ha.

Today was my last Literature class. The last classes always seem so much less bad than the class itself. Either way, I am thankful for no longer having Hilary Binda in my life.

Today was also my first time driving in snow. Friday morning I'll be embarking on a 900 mile road trip in it, with Effie in tow.

I feel so lost anf unhappy lately. Maybe it's only because I've been sick, but I feel that I need grounding. Money never seems to allow for that sort of thing. I'd like to live in Houston again one day. It's so surreal that it's probably never going to happen. Even the idea of visiting causes fights. I'd still like to feel like I have a home one day.

life is kind of funny sometimes.

i have, in my possession, a photo of sandra stark (my teacher) in my living room draped in two dozen pair of my underwear.

the whole class came over this morning to participate in my ongoing project. most of them used it as an opportunity to play dress up. kind of dissapointing, really, but that's alright. right now i'm stuck in the dilemma of choosing whether or not to edit out pictures of someone flossing with my underwear, and those that have nothing to do with the project. because if it's about intersubjectivity, what do i do?

p.s.

my christmas shopping is basically done, and wrapped with yarn and handmade ornaments. i've done my holiday baking, given it all away, and lighted my christmas scented candle. right now i'm listening to the 12 days of christmas. oh yes. i am SO martha stewart.

happy december first.