Third Time's The Charm?

I've lived in this house for almost two and a half years.

Wanna know how many times I've painted the living room?

That would be three.

Three times I've painted this thing. Two times I picked the wrong color.

And when I say wrong, I mean the exact opposite of what I had in mind.

It's like I have a gift for choosing the worst color ever.

When I moved in, the living room was fire engine red. Like, if you were on the street looking through the window, you might have thought that shady things were going on inside.

So, I painted it a color that I thought was a nice neutral beige. But it was an awful yellow caramel.

I hated it, but let it stay for a year out of pure laziness and anger.

Then last spring the dining room (which is adjacent) was painted a lovely green/gray color. I liked it so much that I took that color down a few notches and painted the living room what was supposed to be a light grey with a green base. 

Yeah. Not so much. It was mint green.

The photos are not doing it justice. You can kind of see how green it was when compared to the grey hallway. Now multiply that difference times a million.

This past weekend I decided to give it one more shot. This time I picked a light grey that actually came from a black base instead of a green. I wanted my new color to be as far away as possible from the yellow or green spectrum of the color wheel.

If colors could be enemies, I wanted my new color to be in a full on war with yellow and green.

Once I had my new grey paint, I started with the basic paint prep. 

See what I found? The awful caramel with hints of the atrocious red peaking out. Apparently I was too lazy last time to bother with taking off the outlet cover.

Seriously. How did TC live in that red room for five years?

When I got the trim on the walls, I started having minor heart attacks.

It was so dark. Too dark! I sent out SOS texts to my mom and sister.

"Ahhh! I've chosen the wrong color AGAIN! Send help."

But it got better as I painted and my heart attacks slowed down when I realized that it wasn't as dark as I originally thought.

In fact, it was looking much better. Hell, at this point anything was better than pale mint green. Except caramel. Or red.

Yes, it was no longer my own personal waffle cone of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

In fact, the living room was so grey that the "grey" dining room started taking on a green hue.

Can you see the outdated/needs-to-be-replaced green couch sticking out? That's not exactly helping my cause here...

Yes, much better.

See how before it was a green living room and a grey dining room?

Now it's a slightly green dining room and a grey living room.

The magic of paint is fabulous. Now, instead of hating the whole room, I only hate the furniture.

Oh, but just you wait. Come August there are going to be beautiful new couches. Right, TC???

Insert TC's voice: Yes, darling. Whatever you want. Of course we'll buy new couches if that's what makes you happy.

Excellent. That's what I like to hear.

The Ugly Table.

My living room leaves a lot to be desired. Amongst other things, the walls are mint green. A color that I accidentally painted them - a year ago. The couches have seen better days. The TV is precariously perched in such a way that I expect it to fall over if anyone ever breathes on it the wrong way. The fireplace and mantle are actually okay. But then there's the table. I've said it before, but it bears repeating. It's solid contender in the World's Ugliest Coffee Table Contest. 

First of all, it was a chew toy for Hobie when she was a pup. Second, TC bought it many moons ago off the back of a very questionable truck full of furniture. It's essentially orange, which is not helped by the honey color floors, which are not separated from the table by an area rug as they should be. Why no area rug? Because. Just because. There are too many reasons and if I even start on that list my head will surely explode and that will make a mess that I'll have to clean off my ugly mint walls and I just am not in the mood for all that nonsense. 

Last weekend I decided that things in the living room had nowhere to go but up, so I decided to try my hand at refinishing the table. I did little research, didn't do nearly as much prep work as I should have (although I did rake the yard before I set it out back) and basically went into the project blind. This approach has worked sporadically in the past and I just couldn't justify putting one extra bit of effort into this godforsaken table.

I texted my friend Sally a photo of the table with a can of black spray paint sitting on top. Sally is a bit of a furniture refinishing master so naturally my text just about sent her over the edge.

"Noooooooo!" she scream typed. "Have I taught you nothing?! Do I need to come up there?"

She went on with messages like, "Please use real paint!" and "How do you live without me?"

Well, I don't know how I live without her. Life is good when she's around, but I'm still getting by.

I did sand the table and even followed her vague directions about how to properly distress a table. 

Distressing is no joke. It's definitely an art that I have not mastered, and probably never will. 

I would sand a little, panic, and then run to Pinterest to look for inspiration. Then I'd sit down and have a glass of lemonade to mull over my exact plan of action. Then I'd go back to the yard and sand a little more. Then panic. Then stare at it while I raked the yard. And then back for more Pinterest and more lemonade. 

And so the table and I went, around in circles, while I tried to not completely screw up my make-this-table-bearable project. When I finally decided that the sanding process could last forever, I threw in the towel and whipped out the poly for the finishing touch. 

A few coats later and a ill-fated sanding attempt (don't try it even if the Home Depot guy tells you it's fine) the table is done. And it's better than it was before. It's not perfect, the orange peaking out isn't actually as bad as it looks in this photo, but I can tell you this: It didn't make my living room any worse. Which, really, is huge progress around here. 

Actually, I kind of like it. Once I paint my mint walls a light grey this weekend its going to look even better. 

And thank you Hobie for photo-bombing. You've done enough damage to this table thankyouverymuch. Let's not have a table chewing relapse, please.

Around The House.

TC and I live in an ancient old house. Actually, it's a house that has been divided into three apartments. We rent out the top and bottom apartments and we live in the second floor apartment. 

When I first moved here, I thought it was kind of weird. But as it turns out, its fairly normal set up in our downtown area. 

We won't live here forever, but its a great little place for us right now and will eventually be a nice income property.

Even in college, when I knew I was only renting an apartment for the year, I would still put in some time and money to make it homey. It's important to me to feel comfortable in the place I call home, even if it isn't my forever home. 

But it's a tough line. Balancing time, money, practicality, function, form and reality isn't easy. There is a lot we don't do around here because it just isn't worth it to us. Eventually our apartment will be a rental so we save our pennies to, hopefully, do fun upgrades to our nonexistent future home.

This is the point where I should ask all of you to start sending positive real estate thoughts our way. If you're the praying type, you can help out in that way too. I need some support here, folks. I need a real house in the next century.

In the mean time, I make do with what I've got. I don't want to buy anything too big or bold, just in case it won't suit our nonexistent future house. On the other hand, for my own sanity I need to love where I live, so I try to do a few little things every now and then.

While we were in Paris I developed a minor obsession with all the cool doors and door knobs. I swear, that country doesn't have one boring knob. 

It was getting a little embarrassing for TC as I obsessively stopped in the middle of crowded sidewalks to duck down and photograph each cool door that we passed.

He would just nod at the people as they stepped around me.

Then he would shrug at them as if to say, "Yeah, I don't know what the hell she's doing either."

He's supportive like that.

Meanwhile, I just kept snapping away because I had a vision of hanging them in the hallway.

And it turned out pretty well, I think. 

Cheap dollar store frames suit me just fine, thankyouverymuch.

While we were in France we also picked up a few fun door pulls.

The originals were boring. 

And also, could someone please come scrape all the excess paint off the glass? I'd appreciate it. I'll pay you in cupcakes.

I think they look pretty spiffy next to the ancient encyclopedias that we found in the basement.

My last little find came from this little shop on Etsy. 

Really, how did any of us function before Etsy?

Our bathroom is a brilliant blue that I just love. Honestly, it's my favorite room in the house, despite the horrible mirror that I intentionally left out of this shot. If this were my forever house I'd replace the mirror, but again, it will be a rental one day and I'm just not willing to do it.

How great is this quote? I read it every morning and it makes me smile. Katie Daisy at The Wheatfield has pages and pages of her illustrations that are beautiful and bright. They'd look gorgeous in a little girls room. Or my bathroom, obviously.

_________________________

In other news, thank you so much to Kelly of Fabulous K for the shout out on her blog today. You can read it here. She's fabulous and you should definitely check out her blog. I would love it if she would give my whole life a makeover. 

Also, those breakfast cups she posted? Yeah, I still eat them everyday for breakfast.

Dinosaurs for Valentine's Day.

I wore a light pink shirt and a dark pink scarf to work today. I wasn't even thinking about it. Towards the end of the day I mentioned to my students that I should have saved today's outfit for tomorrow.

knock, knock. anyone home? 

Not one of them made the connection that my pink ensemble should have been saved for Valentine's Day. Not one of them. They're teenagers, surely they're aware of the holiday, right?





I've never been one to decorate for Valentine's Day. Or wear pink and red, for that matter.

But the other day I had this sudden urge to string hearts around the kitchen. TC was off skiing and it just seemed like a cute thing to do.

It took me approximately three minutes and a ten seconds to cut out seven hearts, punch seven holes and tie seven pieces of yarn to the pot rack.

That's nothing if it's not love.

I also really went above and beyond for my favorite guy this week. Motivated by a message from a dear friend, I wrote out five notes for TC. Each note listed one of the top five reasons that he's my favorite. Briefly I considered being funny but ended up taking the cheesy-lovey-dovey route because deep down TC's a pretty sappy guy. Just don't tell him that I told you so.

I attached the notes to little treats and have been hiding them in his bag every morning. The treats are pretty extravagant - only the best stuff I could find at the grocery store. I'm that kindda gal.

The little treat today was the best of the week. I went all out and ventured to the dollar store for the sole purpose of tracking it down. I saw one the other day and have kind of been obsessing over it ever since.

What is it? A dinosaur egg. Obviously. After sitting in water for a day the egg begins to crack and over the next few days a baby dino hatches. First, he pokes his head out of the shell. Then he yells ROAR! Well, he doesn't actually roar, but he does keep growing until his egg completely cracks. He's super cute too.

Upon opening it, TC emailed me and said he can't wait to meet his new friend when it hatches. Then he said, and I quote, "I bet it will look just like you!"

Hmph.

See if I ever buy him a dinosaur again.

Dolphinitely!

Makes me laugh every time.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Scenes From The Homestead.

First, today was supposed to be my big debut as a student teacher. Instead, I enjoyed a nice peaceful snow day that happened to be free of snow. Whomp, whomp.

Second, this is what the scene of my living room looks like ninety percent of the time.

It's like a landmine field of paws, tails and ears just begging to be stepped on.

Third, as of last night this is what was left of the chocolate chip banana bread that I made on Sunday. Sunday, people! It only survived until Tuesday night because I gave TC a death stare and silently growled at him to get some self control. And, for God's sake, save a siser at least one slice.

Wish me luck tomorrow!

That is all. Over and out.

Southern American Thanksgiving...In Canada.

It all started on Thursday afternoon when I got home from work. Here in Canada, Thursday was...well, Thursday. Not Thanksgiving. But it was Thanksgiving to me, so I started cooking in preparation for our 3rd Annual Southern American Thanksgiving feast on Friday evening. A little non-traditional, but that's okay.

TC was hard at work assembling extra tables to make room for the seventeen bodies that were going to be seated. He also went around to our friends houses and borrowed chairs and delivered casseroles that were to be popped in the oven right before everyone came over on Friday night. Bless his little heart, I don't know what I'd do without him. Surely there would not be a Thanksgiving dinner of this caliber.

Friday I woke up ready to take on the big day. I spent the morning finishing up the table, baking biscuits and cleaning up the house.

Then two Godsends walked in the door to prep the turkey and deliver dressing - my in-laws. There are no two better people on the planet. They came in like ninjas. They turned on the oven, cleaned the turkey, stuffed it and then vanished into thin air. If I didn't have photographic evidence I might have thought it was a dream. 

Thankfully, Carla stopped by in the afternoon to check on me and see how things were going. I was in that awkward stage of the day where I've done all that I can do before the final stages of getting the meal together. 

With a little time on our hands, we decided to get a little crafty and make place cards for everyone (thanks for the inspiration, Dagni!). Instead of writing names, we thought it would be more entertaining to put 'labels' about each person so they would have to really figure out where they were seated. For example, Wine On My Wedding Dress. Ahem, Christina. Or The Firefighter's Fire for our friend Aly, who is dating a fireman. Funny, no? 

As expected, Cookie Monster went to TC. How fitting.

The best part of the place cards was that everyone managed to somehow wear their name for the night. 

I sense the beginning of a new tradition...

Eventually, Christina showed up. It's our tradition to don our aprons and make the sweet tea cocktail. This is where the fun really begins. You see, sweet tea cocktail is made in small batches and each one must be taste-tested to ensure the correct proportion of sweet tea, lemonade and vodka. We don't bother writing down the recipe because that would ruin all of our fun. It's much more exciting to take shots of the concoction as we tweak it. Plus, it helps calm us down and make me stop sweating over whether the turkey is going to come out as a big pile of saw dust.

Can we take a second and discuss how truly grateful I am for Carla and Christina? These two ladies welcomed we with open arms the minute I set foot on Canadian soil. They were my first friends here and are amazing. Not only that, but Thanksgiving would definitely not happen without them. 

Anyway, around six o'clock the crowd started rolling in and the pace picked up.

TC got the turkey out of the oven and carved it like a champ.

Christina and I did work on the gravy and enjoyed every second of it, thanks to our happy hour of taste-testing the sweet tea cocktail.

Of course, everyone was handed a glass of sweet tea deliciousness when they walked through the door. And of course, it was served in chalkboard glasses and mason jars for a little extra Southern hospitality.

As the final prep came to a close, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. It was all good.

And it was time to eat.

Dinner was delicious. I actually took the time this year to sit and eat and enjoy it. 

I took it all in and looked around the table, I silently said thank you for all of these wonderful friends and slowly enjoyed my meal while chatting with Cookie Monster, The Captain and Soon To Be Employed.

After dinner was over I took a break from conversation and turned around to see no less that six of my wonderful friends in the kitchen forming an impressive assembly line to get all the dishes done. Then they served all five pies I made for dessert like they were a bunch of seasoned waiters. When that was over, the boys dismantled all the extra tables and moved the couches back in the living room in no time flat. Yes, we have a small apartment and our 17 foot Thanksgiving table extends all the way through the dining room and living room. Yes, I know that's ridiculous.

It was amazing.

In true Maritime style, the party carried on in the very clean kitchen. Then, someone, some glorious person did what I've always wanted to do at Thanksgiving - they said we should all go around and say what we're thankful for. 

I was so happy at that moment I could have burst. 

Here I am in Canada, far away from my usual Thanksgiving traditions and yet lucky enough to be able to get seventeen wonderful Canadian friends together to give thanks and embrace an American holiday that's important to me. Pretty awesome...

Oh, and I have to tell you how the night ended...many hours later...

TC has a huge bike collection in the basement. He always says that if we have enough bikes then we can go for late night bike rides with all of our friends or people could just bike home instead of calling a cab. Up until this Thanksgiving it had never happened - but it did that night. It was the perfect end to our evening.