I've moved

If you're still reading here, give yourself a pat on the back for your sticktoitiveness. I've started a new site. Please come say hello at The Living Room. Hope to see you soon!

Scarf it up

Now that my hair is short again, it's super easy to get incredibly bored with it.

Sometimes I watch pin curl or braiding tutorials just so I can sit there and feel sorry for my Justin Bieber-tressed self.

But really, I do love having short hair. It's easy, it looks the same every day. It's possible to dye it lots of damaging colors without having to worry about years of hard hair-growing work going down the drain.

Even better is that I've now discovered Scarving! Tutorials!

This means a) I have a new thrift/vintage shopping obsession b) My hair isn't cramping my head's flamboyant style anymore and c) I can wear EVEN MORE of my grandma's stuff.

I'm sporting this look right now with a vintage Hermes key scarf (this is hands-down the fanciest thing I've ever written about myself):

It's super easy and I didn't swear once when trying to do it.

Also, this Hermes scarf tutorial is the business. I mean, a purse? Seriously so great. I'm off to hunt for silk and scarf rings.

Oh, and also also. I'll pay anyone to try that JLo dress-scarf getup and send me a picture. That one is pretty intense, even as a bathing suit cover up.

And the moon rose over an open field

Ever since I was a kid, I've been a little bit obsessed with RVs (and to a degree houseboats). My first love was an intense one-sided affair with the shiny silver Airstream that was permanently parked in a driveway down the block. I was so enthralled that when I was 20, I got a book about the history of Airstreams as a Christmas present and considered it the great gift of the year. (you can get it here)

And before I could even drive, there were many years I would beg--and then drag--my parents to the boat, sport and travel show so I could scamper around all of the campers and double wides and fantasize about living in one someday. There's just something about everything being so small and efficient...and moveable. It's like the ultimate Alley-Sheedy-in-The-Breakfast-Club purse turned into a home. After all, you never know when you may have to jam!

Now that I'm writing about it, I can think of so many things I loved as a child and how they tie back to my love of transportation abodes.

Remember the Gypsy caravan Danny and his father call home in Danny the Champion of the World? (more on that here)

What about the motorhome Juliette Lewis lives in in What's Eating Gilbert Grape?

Or who can forget Dylan McKay's dad's houseboat on 90210 (RIP Jack McKay)?

Oh, and Maude's sweet-ass railcar apartment in Harold and Maude totally counts.

If you're still with me at this ramble down my weird-kid memory lane, you have to read Travels with Charley: In Search of America, one of my all-time favorite books. It's John Steinbeck's account of exploring the country in a camper with his standard poodle Charley.

A quintessential indoor kid (my parents used to punish me for reading too much by making me call friends to come over and do legitimate, real-people activities with me), I was a Steinbeck nut, PLUS we had a standard poodle (RIP Mr. T), so this book really resonated with me. I think it's what made me decide my dream job would be to drive around the country and have a syndicated newspaper column where I interviewed different people for a kind of "slice of life" feature, and it's probably at least partially responsible for my journalism degree.

Ahh, and here I am today: A mobile home non-owner (I don't think we can count the Caravan, as tempting as that is), and the only writing I do is on this-here blog, which is becoming more infrequent. Crap, I don't even have a toy poodle, let alone a Standard.

All of this is a big preface to a few things that have popped up (like a camper--hahahaha...groan) lately to remind me of my all-American (in theory) wanderlust.

- Season 6 of Weeds, in which the characters are on the lam (no spoilers here--motor homes aren't aerodynamic anyway....somebody stop me) and travel from Montana to Michigan in a huge Jesusmobile RV.

- This incredible (and gorgeous!) blog, Double Decker Days, in which author Crystal Thomas details her renovation of a 1970s double decker bus with the intention of turning it into a vacation getaway. I love it, love it, love it!

So in summation, this is all what had been rolling around in my head when I told Marc I thought we should rent a motor home and take a few weeks to explore the country at the end of this summer (I want the cats to come with us because I'm totally insane, not just a little bit crazy).

See, we haven't taken our honeymoon yet, and our original plan was to go to Europe and tourist around, which also sounds lovely. But I can't shake this idea that it would be a lot of fun to, in the words of Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel, walk off to look for America.

Who knows what will happen. Thoughts? Pros 'n cons?

(image from Double Decker Days)

In the eye of the beholder

Super interesting post on Chloe Sevigny's apartment, photographed for two different publications.

House and Garden 2007 vs. Apartamento 2009.

Which do you prefer?

Presented without commentary

(click to enlarge)

How to describe your used furniture on Craigslist.

Thanks so much for sending this, Nate! It made my day.

Some things

Gizang* (of 81...that's inmazing--that means inconceivably amazing--I will be sending a present to my 100th follower), I've been working on a post that's been chilling in my drafts for about three weeks now and I can't seem to get myself to finish it, Mortal Kombat style.

It's not like it's some epically awesome or even personally wrenching post. It just involves a lot of copying and pasting and is actually about design and interiors and stuff that actually fits into the format of the current incarnation of this blog. But it's just taking me my sweet-ass time for some reason. Maybe I need to stop cruising around the block in my Caravan, trying to start some fringe religion--because hey! I have the church bus all ready, so why not? That will solve my airbrush conundrum.#

* Speaking of copying and pasting...I looked up and had originally written "prize for my 100th follower" and decided I wanted to change it to "present for my 100th follower" since it's not like this blog is a sweepstakes and the "iz" in prize somehow got copied into the opening word of this post, thus altering "Gang" into "Gizang," which I like and am keeping.

ANYWAY

So here's some things in lieu of my real post:

1. Thanks so much everyone for your words of encouragement for Harvey. I read every one of your comments to him**, and he appreciated it so much, he didn't even lick his ass the whole time I was reading it to him. I took him back to the vet on Tuesday, and even though he's feeling much better, he's now on two more meds (For those keeping score at home, that's three pills, two types of eye drops and one type of powder. One of my co-workers said with all these lame drugs lying around, it's like I live with a really shitty band.)

2. If I were a fairy (faerie?) and left magic dust wherever I went, in addition to rainbow glitter, mine would be littered with bobby pins and clear hair ties. They're all over our house....Marc opened a book last night and a couple of each fell out and I swear I found two bobby pins in the dishwasher this morning.

3. After almost choking on a hard-boiled egg earlier this week, I'm pretty sure that's how I'm going to die when I'm home alone and left with my own devices. Remember when that lady died on Six Feet Under when she choked on her dinner? And Miranda on Sex and the City also almost did eating Chinese food? That's going to be me. Also, what was the deal with early-aughts HBO shows being obsessed with single ladies choking? And with shows that started with S-x?

ANYWAY ANYWAY

My situation is only made worse by my nightly ritual of slathering lotion on my raptor-claw dry hands and then deciding that my lips also deserve to be as adequately lubricated. Once my hands are all lotioned up, there's no way I can pry off the top of any sort of lip balm, so I end up violently biting the lid off in frustration and almost swallowing it in the process. Now I'm paralyzed by the vision of Marc snoozing away in the room next door while I stagger around the bathroom clawing at my throat and desperately trying to give myself the Heimlich but our counter is too low and I keel over and conk my head on the toilet.

So yeah, maybe I should occupy my time and hands with writing that legit post instead of fretting about all this. Thanks for bearing with me.

# One of my friends dubbed the van "The Dreamcatcher," which I love. I think that name will inform what's airbrushed on the sides. But thanks from the bottom of my heart for your rad suggestions.

** This is a lie. I'm a crazy cat lady, but I'm not nuts enough to read blog comments to my cat. Yet. But seriously, thanks. It means a ton.

Rollin' in my 94

A few weeks ago, I left a comment on My Little Apartment (addicted! to that blog, btdubs) about how much I love Craigslist and how it’s been the most consistently positive factor in my life for the past five years, but I don’t think I ever fully spun that yarn here.

I know I’ve mentioned that just about every piece of furniture in my house is from CL (except our bed because…ick), but that’s just the tip of the iceberg, really.

About four years ago, I was working in marketing at a gigantic accounting firm, where I made some wonderful friends. One friend would always complain about how she could never find any dateable guys. So each morning, I’d scour Craigslist for the gnarliest, creepiest m4w ad and send it on over to her (we’re talking “I’m in jail right now, but I’ll be out in four to six. Need someone to take care of my kids while I’m in here” or “420 in my garden apartment?”). One day, I saw an ad featuring a cute guy who was just looking for some people to go to the movies in Grant Park with him. I almost forwarded it along, but then I got to thinking…

A couple months’ prior, I had gotten out of a years’ long relationship. I thought about it a second and decided I should probably start going on dates again and this would be the guy to get things started. It’s not like I was going to marry him or anything.

So yeah, I ended up marrying him. My wedding toast was a sincere and heartfelt salute to Craig Newmark.

Before we got married, I moved in with him (and out of the apartment I shared with my wonderful Craigslist-found roommate) and we furnished our home with many a CL score. And then I moved on from the gigantor accounting firm to my job via a Craigslist ad. (Hey! Here’s an article that quotes my company’s founder in today’s Times. Neat).

The latest development: I’m pregnant and if it’s a boy we’re naming him Craig. Hell, if it’s a girl we probably will too.

Ha, just kidding. No babies just yet. Don’t freak.

The latest development is that over Thanksgiving my husband’s awesome aunt and uncle gave us a super sweet 1994 Dodge Caravan that I’ve already been using to haul around my scavenged treasures. It’s so bad ass. Craigslist will never know what hit it.

And yes, I’m taking suggestions of what to get airbrushed on the side.