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My neighborhood bespeaks classic, working-class Chicago style—belts of bungalows broken up by rows of two-family homes and the occasional oddball like my house. But even when a series of houses sprang from the earth looking the same, there’s no telling what one’s future might hold. Witness this two-flat:
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I really wish I had seen this work in progress because it must have involved at least multiple paint cans and brushes—and maybe multiple painters, not to mention the ladders. I wonder whether its neighbors are now feeling drab?
I’m not much of a collector (unless you count salvaged windows and doors or Roper stove parts), but I will admit to a weakness for old, embroidered tea towels. And it struck me this morning that my favorite one visually sums up that all-overish malaise with which we so often greet the new week.
You know, there you are just trying to keep the house clean enough and the next thing you know the dishwater is burbling, you’re naked except for a bit of webbing at your waist and jingle-bell booties, and you’ve sprouted feverish antennae! Pray to the heavens for mercy and there it looms: Monday—oh yeah, that explains it. They don’t make petunia basins the way they used to either. Sigh.
That Monday creature is a twist on the cutesy kitten tea towel.
As much as I enjoy kittens, I can’t muster much enthusiasm for this quaint incarnation anymore. I’m afraid my tastes have been twisted now. And I seek out the misunderstood creatures more readily these days. Let me know if you know any who are looking for homes. I’m not just open to martians, either.
Here’s another of my unique companions.
It’s been all about tying up loose ends around here lately, so there hasn’t been anything interesting to post. Except that I fell across this picture site the other night—Skarabej-Online Museum of Old Family Photographs. These are photos found in flea markets, attics, basements or junk heaps, mostly in the Czech Republic, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina and now a few even from the U.S. Digging through, one finds family expressions, exuberance, awkwardness, preciousness—and vintage fixtures! Do feast:
Whew, traveling and visiting and being visited has been a jubilant diversion. Nothing’s better than hanging out with friends and making meals that include sauce from our own garden tomatoes, and homegrown garlic and peppers, and even a lemon from our dear little potted lemon tree.
Now back to everyday life. Google Maps updated its shots recently, so I can post this pic of the relatively new roof.
Note the asymmetry—one side of the house has a square bay and the other has a half-octagon bumpout. There wasn’t anything on either side when this was built, so I guess the side with the diagonal windows was wise about the future.
In other news, the city decided to chop down our front tree. We’ve been wondering whether it was diseased and I guess this settles it. It was an ash, and this area has had emerald ash borer problems, so maybe that was the culprit. Now I get to lobby hard for a new tree (or two, that would be nice) and I also got 20-some gallons of mulch out of the stump grindings I came home to tonight. Free mulch!
I’m not usually fond of junk mail. Why was I so excited, then, to see these raggedy edges sticking out of the trim on one side of the front door after I’d removed the casings?
I think it’s because they’re messages from the past, ghosts still trying to communicate—about key items like union suits for 59 cents and “genuine Trojian pants—surely a strong pants.” Trojan pants—OK, so were they wooden and chock-full of men? Or are we talking about these? Also, I’m in love with that hand-drawn arrow down there.
More truly, I think it’s because these snippets of ads offer me an awareness similar to what I soak up living every day in an old structure and spending so much of my energy and resources trying to keep it alive: That this day, this moment, this concern is fleeting and soon laid to rest. This house will outlive me, and today’s junk mail might too, so live this moment as best you can.
Also, the graphics and period lingo are cool.
Pies! And a face from a brick that was in the crevice with these papers.
If you are a person of delicate sensibilities and the title has not already put you off, please avert your eyes. I am about to talk of my most primal needs and desires. I am going to speak now about …
… the importance of having the perfect toilet seat.
I have spent many an hour trolling the Interwebz looking for the perfect parking place for my posterior. I have in fact purchased and installed several different throne tops. I am difficult to please in this area. I will spare you the details.
However, despite all this, I am feeling ridiculously optimistic about my latest test seat, which comes to us from the fine folks at DEA Bathroom Machineries. It is MDF, which is in fact not my first choice, but I also seem to have this thing about having a black toilet seat, so while I would really rather have wood, I want it to be black wood and this has turned out to be a stopping point in ordering wood seats (the painted one I had needed frequent touch-ups with a Sharpie marker, which didn’t really work).
So how does it look?
Apologies for the dust that shows in some shots. It’s from the styrofoam the seat was packed in, and I didn’t see it at all as I shot the pics.
Now to see how it holds up to the daily indignities. I will post back about that in the future, since I am quite proficient at destroying objects of all sorts, and if this things survives my household I can be fairly certain it’s to be recommended for yours.
Over the weekend I had a dream in which I was going to see the Dalai Lama. What does this have to do with the house, you ask? Read on!
So I’m in a humongous lecture hall, milling around with the other minions looking for a place to sit. We climb up and up and find new and ever-narrower seating sections—all full. Finally, as I’m thinking about how I’m really supposed to be at work anyway, I’m seated and craning to try to find the stage. When I realize I have a bucket in my lap. Full of plaster. Pink plaster, since I am smitten with Plaster-Weld. So I start mixing it up and smooshing the stuff against the sides of the bucket to smoothen it out. And then I realize there’s no way this stuff is going to stay soft throughout the whole lecture and the trip home. So what should I do—plaster the seats around me?
And then I woke up. Much to the relief of everybody else in the dream, I am sure.
I can think of many interpretations of this, though none of them really help me with the fact that I intended to finish off the plastering today so we could start nailing up the tin ceiling next weekend. But instead we slept in until after noon. And now I am blogging. And thinking about making brownies with this recipe yanked from an imaginary friend:
8 tbsp butter
2 ounces unsweetened chocolate
1 c sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 eggs
1/2 c flour
Melt butter and chocolate together. Stir in sugar. Stir in vanilla. Stir in eggs. Stir in flour. Pour into buttered 8″x8″ pan (not a different size). (Lick bowl.) Bake at 325 for 20-22 minutes, just until top is set. (Watch carefully. Dry and crumbly probably means baked too long.)
Some of the terms people have typed into a search engine to find our blog in the last couple days:
> had to pee
> procrastination
> crocodile bathroom
I, too, am interested in all these things!
What’s keeping me from hiding in bed all day today? Seed starting! Yep, it’s time to look forward to summer by sowing seeds for the veggies and flowers to come. I’m starting peppers and pansies and basil tonight. Maybe some tomatoes too, if I can stay awake that long and I get off the computer and get started.
Must hustle.
Happy holidays to everyone with some inspiration to preserve old house details like these from my parents’ 1915 house in Cleveland:
I’m pretty sure this is why I was obsessed with having marble in my bathroom renovation here.
Yes, snow has fallen and the porch isn’t quite done yet. Well, the porch is—the decking and posts and whatzit, sorta—but the stair railings are not. Please accept this in the spirit of full disclosure. I’m thinking by solstice, or Christmas anyway!
Yes, we’ve mixed painted parts with natural wood; the concept is that the wood (ipe decking and cedar sides) will gray out and blend in over time—and will last and last and last without maintenance; I was giddy the other day while shoveling off the steps that we were not going to have any problems with paint peeling off).
I’m thinking the last one should be our holiday card—it’s got the red, the green, the snow—ho!
