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Archive for the ‘Decor’ Category

Kitchen daydreams

I recently posted 25 things I want to do before I die. Number 16 was “Have a well-equipped, spacious, welcoming, and well-worn kitchen where people come together over great food.”
That got me thinking about what this kitchen might look like. I collected a few pictures to illustrate my daydreams…

I love the island and the open shelving of this kitchen. The pots and pans hanging underneath are a nice touch. I also really like the sofa and table nearby. It’s a good use of a small space, and feels welcoming as well as functional. (more…)

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Heaven or hell?

A few months ago I posted a link to a blog that cracks me up: Unhappy Hipsters. The writer captions images from Dwell Magazine with emotionally bleak expositions of the underlying mental states of the inhabitants of these artful homes.

I’ve been searching (so far mostly fruitlessly) for real research on the impact of your home’s layout and general state of tidiness or lack thereof on stress and peace of mind. But I did come across a fun little article in Psychology Today that touches on the topic I want to learn more about in light of these poor unhappy hipsters. Thought it was worth sharing: Does Modern Architecture Make Us Gloomy?

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This home is amazing! What do you think of it?

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Before the Home Cure

The Spring Cure has begun on ApartmentTherapy.com!

In a previous post on my adventures in homemaking, I mentioned the transformational affects of the semi-annual Home Cure that I participated in last fall for the first time. Because March is cursed, I missed the beginning, and signed up just at the tail end of Week Two of the eight-week process.

The short description of the Home Cure is: join the nation-wide group on ApartmentTherapy.com and read along week by week through Maxwell’s book Apartment Therapy. Each week has a different set of tasks – visioning, deep cleaning,  basic home repairs,  painting, light, decor and finally, a housewarming party to celebrate success. Another nice touch is emphasis on green home products, and cooking at home. (more…)

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Please come in.

I love sharing my home. More importantly, I love being in my home.

I remember my first house – a small remodeled trailer with a living room addition built on the back. I had a big kitchen with a sliding door out onto a large deck. I had a dining room, and a living room with a wood burning stove that I learned to keep going all night – a worthy skill. Two bedrooms, a bathroom and a washer and dryer in the back hall (something I would later look back on and realize I was rich). I paid $250/month for this palace, because it was in rural Virginia and I rented it from my best friend’s father.

My next house was 30 miles away, closer to where I worked. It was a beautiful two story townhouse. The first floor had huge windows on three sides because it was an end unit, and comprised living room, small dining room and kitchen with a huge pantry. I cajoled my mother out of her pretty red chintz loveseat, thus beginning my love affair with red in the living room. I cooked meals here that I shared with another best friend (the one who would later introduce me to an old friend of hers, the Monkey I’d later move in with and marry).  This home had a backyard area, and I bought a firebowl and had late night parties all summer long with friends and wine.

After a stay in my grandmother’s home, while I attended photography school, I moved into the home of my friend, where we were happy roommates till that previously-mentioned introduction that led to me moving to DC to live with the Monkey. I did rent an apartment, but so much of my time was spent at his that home migrated, and ultimately officially blended into his. Home, during that period, was a kind of limbo where the Monkey and I negotiated taste, habits, space, arrangement and the amount of art any given wall should support while also negotiating the thrills and agonies of true love.

We moved from the first apartment we shared in Alexandria, to a basement apartment in Adams Morgan – a home we try to forget because the landlord living above us was a weeknight party animal with no discernible humanity – but a home we also remember as a place we struggled through a miserable winter together, watching entire seasons of The Office, playing Fable, and hiding out at Tryst when the house got too dark and small. It’s also the home where the Monkey and I got engaged – well, the park at the end the street is the actual spot, on a cold, snowy winter solstice night.

We fled that place to the home we share now, our first married home, a 10th floor apartment . The logistics were complicated – we had lived together in about 1100 square feet of space. For the first move we condensed to 800, and for the second, to 695. But that 695 is not counting the balcony we got out of the deal, a large outdoor space all our own overlooking Mt. Pleasant, Rock Creek Park, and a view of the National Cathedral. After our Memorial Day wedding, we spent the summer recovering our sanity on that balcony, drinking wine and watching the sunsets.

In the fall, I realized our house was a giant pile of crap. Not the apartment, but the inside of it – piles and piles of our crap covering up what was supposed to be a really nice place. Something had to be done! I cannot overstate the saving graces of ApartmentTherapy.com, the book Apartment Therapy (by Maxwell Gillingham-Ryan), and the Fall Cure – an online-supported 8 week “course” in saving the life of your home.

Since a picture is worth at least several hundred words, I post a few pictures for your viewing pleasure – a full set of before and after pics are here. The upshot of this all is that I am proud of my home and we’ve worked hard together to make it ours. So, please come in.

Office space, just past the front door.

Kitchen cart, welcoming you.

Freshly painted bedroom.

Orchid on my bedroom dresser.

Living room, sofa.

View from our balcony.

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via ApartmentTherapy.com, a blog of images from Dwell magazine, recaptioned with the lonely unspoken angst of those who live in these modernist masterpieces, Unhappy Hipsters.

It became their routine. And so the evenings stretched out before him: still, gray, and gravel-strewn.

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Merry Christmas 2009!

My first post, week one, is to celebrate the joy of our first Christmas married and living in our wonderful 10th floor apartment on 16th Street. Here are a few photos of our home decorated for Christmas!

I didn’t hang stockings this year. It seemed a little contrived — no children to convince of Santa’s arrival, and gifts of candy would definitely counteract our recently (re)intiated trips to the gym. What say you — do childless couples need Christmas stockings?

I’ll post a few highlights of the Big C-Day tomorrow – until then, merriest!

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