Say, "Eh, I guess that'll do." to the dress!

or, Unleashing my inner Bridezilla.

Ever since I announced Marc and I were engaged and planning our wedding, lots of people have jokingly joshed around about how I'm going to be such an insufferable diva, meaning--I hope--that they expect I'll actually be a pretty mellow bride. Even Marc got in on the act, calling me a Bridezilla when I timidly requested that we maybe not have our wedding on Sept. 11. It's been a pretty great compliment--but in a weird way a hard persona to live up to.

Hence the four-dress saga.

I even feel a little diva-ish writing about it, but people asked so here goes. I went shopping with my mom and, ignoring a longer, more formal dress, picked out what I thought I wanted: a short, sophisticated dress that to me said. "I am a grown up. And I am having a tasteful civil ceremony that has nothing to do with fairy princesses or enchanted magic or even Spanx." So that's how I ended up choosing this guy:

(imagine it minus cheesy sunglasses and sandals)

Back in Chicago, I took my friend Shannon to see the dress and get a second opinion before I ordered it. BUT. When we were at the store, she forced me to try on that longer, more formal dress I studiously ignored in the first place (this is a lie). It looked great on. I even thought about buying it and cutting it off into a short dress. I even dragged another bride-to-be friend to the and forced her to try it on for her wedding (this is not a lie). My insane-o logic was, "well, if I can't have it, somebody I know had better wear this to something so I can bask it its glorious presence." She wasn't having it.

Then what did I do? I ordered dress #1. Like a fool. Then, like a fool, I looked at the catalog that came with it and decided this dress (#2)...



...was just the swinging retro look I was going for. Plus that model is at least as pale as I am and she looks pretty alive-ish in it, right? And then I sat on it. For weeks. Of course, this dress was not available in stores, so I'd have to order it online to try it on. By the time I got around to ordering it, the dress was on sale (score!) but was non-returnable (burn!). So I ordered it anyway. Tried it on for my friends, and everyone was underwhelmed. Tried on trusty ole #1 and decided it wasn't as great as I thought. At this point it time, I have owned #1 too long to return it, so now I have two un-returnable dresses on my hands.

While trying it on, I thought of a vintage sundress (#3 but sort of doesn't count) I bought at a garage sale for $6 (and also wore as part of a Halloween costume in 2006). I tried it on for the friends, who decided this was the most "me" and most flattering dress of the lot. Ugh, of course. That works for me, but being a secret Bridezilla, I didn't know how excited I was about wearing a dress that I just happened to have and had already worn as a costume. I mean, maybe if Marc agreed to wear the Batman suit he'd donned that year...

Sorry, I don't have a picture of it, but it's very dance-contest Sandy from Grease:


I thought that if I Brigitte Bardot'd my hair all up and got a super poofy crinoline and just went all the way with the vintage look, I'd get more excited about it, but the whole thing felt sort of costume-y to me. Which got me thinking about that long, elegant dress from way back in the day.

Since I seem to be unable to make a definitive decision regarding anything clothing related, the smart thing seemed to be to go try it on again and see if I really loved it or just wanted what I didn't have. Of course. Of course, no store has the dress now. I know because I went to six places to try it on.

And then I went and found it on ebay and ordered it (Non-returnable. Of. Freaking. Course.)

I give you #4:


Thar she blows. We'll see if I'm still into her when she arrives.

So, not only have I given in to fairy princess, I've taken a couple of dresses hostage in the process. And I'm in full-blown indecisive diva glory. At least we know I won't be naked. Marc, on the other hand, I'm not so sure about. He's been joking that he's going to have to wear one of these babies because I may have just exhausted our wardrobe budget for the wedding.

Oh yeah, scoldings and suggestions (and offers for any of these lovely frocks) are more than welcome!

Mo-om!

Nowadays, when I go into work, I walk. So that means I've been talking to my mom on the phone. A lot. I've also become the world's most indecisive person when it comes to finding a dress to wear to my wedding. Seriously, I'm about five mouse-clicks away from acquiring my fourth dress. Of course, I have to call her to agonize over each one, and she's been super patient and just laughs along at my craziness. I guess she's just happy that I'm not waffling over the guy I'm marrying. That's about the only thing that could turn this silly ordeal into serious business.

ANYWAY, all of this is to say she's got the patience of a...I don't know...really mellowed-out animal or some sort of Biblical figure? Is it Job I'm reaching for here? A sloth? That doesn't seem right.

But yeah, she's patient, but only to a point. Recently:

Me: Mom? Hi, what's up? I bet you're getting sick of me calling every day, huh?

Mom: Good-natured laughing.

Me: Mo-om! You're supposed to say, "Oh no! Call as much as you need to. I love hearing from you."

Mom: Well, how long is this going to go on?


Ha, way to keep it real, Mom! I keep asking myself the same thing when it comes to all of the floaty white dresses that seem to be breeding in my already-too-small closet. Ugh. I'm never this wishy washy. And I look terrible in white.

Sprung

Just trying to clear my head. Real flowers would be bad for these allergies, but I love the fresh colors.

Also, I'm trying to ignore the fact that I've been having romantic dreams about Capt. Jim Brass from CSI.

I hope everybody had a great Cinco de Mayo! I made a kind of Mexican lasagna with tortillas and salsa instead of noodles and ricotta. It was...not bad at all.

Is there a ghost in my house?

Maybe I'm being a baby because I was home alone last night, but this was a little creepy, guys.

So, last night I lit a few tea lights to add some ambiance as I plowed through the bulk of the first season of Dexter (maybe not the best idea). I blew them out around 11:30 and went to bed a little after midnight.

When I woke up this morning (full disclosure: I'm a HUGE baby and slept on the couch), one of the candles was burning. Creeeeepy. I know I blew them out (that's what she said) and there's no way a puny tea light could burn for seven hours, right? And I would have noticed it burning when I fell asleep in the dark. Oh yeah, and I just checked. The candle in question has a good amount of wax left to burn...the same as the other candles that were only lit for about 90 minutes.

So are we thinking ghost? Ice truck killer hiding under my bed and biding his time? Or did the wick somehow smolder for hours and then amazingly re-light itself at some point this morning? Please tell me scenario C is the case and you've all had this happen to you a million times.

Somebody needs to dazzle me with some marvels of science talk to put me at ease.

Holly jolly blah blah blah

So on Sunday, I went a-thrifting and found some low vases and this giant glass ball--I'm serious. GIANT. I had to wash this thing in the bathtub because it doesn't even come close to fitting in the kitchen sink. I can't really even lift it when it's full of water.

I haggled and got it for half price after patiently listening to the guy at the thrift shop serenade me with his most bluesy, sultry rendition of "Baby it's Cold Outside."

One day, I think it will make a rad terrarium or vase, but for now, I'm forcing paper whites in it.

So now I present you with our stupendous table of mystical dazzling holiday fantastical fantasy magical delights. AKA cat Narnia.

Don't think I won't cry and act surprised when one of the a-hole cats tries to stick his head in that big ball and the whole setup comes crashing to the floor.

Guys, I found some wallpaper for the lanai

Hmm...which colorway? Decisions, decisions.

This: Also acceptable

Sad news, kids. I didn't get the lockers. I may have shed a few tears when I got the e-mail from the lady saying she'd sold them out from under me (hussy!). What can I say? It was a frustrating week.

But it's a new week (and almost a new month!). Craigslist will provide new, better lockers. I'm sure of it. In the meantime, can someone please send this to the market?

I'm in love. I don't know exactly what it is about this storage rack that tugs at me, but I love the practicality of the wire mixed up with the whimsy of the color or some such nonsense. Whatever it is, I want it.

In other news, our halls (well, to be honest, we only have one hallway) are decked in a pretty half-assed manner, but it only took the duration one Nat King Cole holiday record to toss up some fairy lights and fake garland. Why no, I'm not planning to have any guests over in the next month. Why do you ask?

Also, I have class this week/weekend and just now realized I have to find, buy and read the following books by Thursday morning:
"The Appraisal of Personal Property: Principles, Theory & Practice Methods"
"Auctions: The Social Construction of Value"
"A Short Guide to Writing about Art"

Crap. Crap. Crap.

Blocked

Blergh. Every day this week has been the same. If you could only see how many drafts and half-baked ideas I have saved in my folder...

Nothing's really gelling like Magellan for me, post-wise.

Kind of like that almost-there room up there. If I were to walk into it, the first thing I'd do is heave those ugly chairs out the window. Then I'd smile.

Help! What do you champions do when you hit a brick wall creatively?

Not even phoning it in today

I'm still down with the sickness* and having a very tough time coming up with a post for today. Does that ever happen to you?

I have a few on the back burners, but they're far too complex (i.e. they involve more than three hyperlinks and one picture) for my stuffed-up mind to wrangle into anything approaching coherence.

Instead, I'll leave you with a picture of the kickass lamp I'm picking up tomorrow night (provided I'm not dead). Thanks, Craigslist!



Netflix was nice enough to send me Children of Men and Away We Go. Which one should I watch tonight as I chug NyQuil from the bottle and bury myself in wadded-up Kleenex? (Sadly, this post is not sponsored by either of those brands.)

* This is about 90% due to a nasty cold and 10% sadness that we're back from San Francisco, where I had a fab time hanging out with Jess and her husband Chris. More to come on that when I can muster the exclamation points that shrimp tacos and Peter Cetera songs deserve.

Can't get you out of my head

I'm kind of having one of those days where crawling inside a giant skull sofa that's lined with a sheepskin rug doesn't seem like such a crazy idea.

A mounting desire

Recently I've been spending a lot of time moaning and whining about how I don't have enough light in my house for more plants (that's me! plants and cats and needlepoint and banana bread. next up: dentures and control-top pantyhose.)

But no, IF I had more light, I'd slap a couple of these above my fireplace, no problem.

My grandmother had staghorn ferns, and I grew up thinking they were the coolest thing this side of Teddy Roosevelt.

I guess this is something I'm finally not alone on. Artists Sean and Stacy Kelly has used them to create the installation A Call to Arms:

"Each trophy-plant is made from spliced scrap-walnut, laser etched with the word victoire, French for victory. When hunting for sport first became a widespread past time for the aristocracy in Europe, its protocol was conceived and transcribed by the French.

These trophy-plants offer a new interpretation that celebrates the symbiotic. The victory is mutual, the trophy is living and growing, and the disconnection between humans and nature is revealed as a societal facade."

Totally, dude.



And also they're just really pretty looking.


Here are some more pictures from the cool people on Flickr.






UPDATE: Oh. Apparently this is an annual thing with me.

Here is a post with almost a trillion pictures of vintage lockers

This is punishment for no one buying the orange vintage lockers and making me fantasize about them.

(Via Spring Globe)

(Via Everyeskimo)

(Via If the Lampshade Fits)

(Via Summer Cottage Antiques)

(Via Antiques & Retro Shopper's Map)

(Via Poppytalk)

(Via Please Sir)

(Via Please Sir)

(Via Mer Mag)

(Via Poetic Home)

(Via Katiedid)

(Via Decorno)

(Via Apartment Therapy)

(Via Poppytalk)

Back at the ranch...

Plants are taking over my house!

It's gotten cold enough to bring in all of the plants from outside. Well, any that the mangy squirrels in my neighborhood didn't eat. Bastards.


They also like to taunt the cats.

I'm realizing I have some BIG plants and not much natural light, so most of them are crowded around the one south-facing window in the living room like Dickensian street urchins begging for more gruel.


Hey! Let's be real cool and throw some in an old suitcase.


Have succulents, will travel.

More in the rarely-photographed office.


It's cozy but cave-like in there.

Will these plants make it to spring? Seriously, I don't know. I'm thinking about sending some of them to Indiana to live with grandma for a while. Unless anyone in Chicago wants to be a plant foster parent...

Couch prowling

Raar!


Operation: Turn my couch in to a terrifying yet Grandma-approved lounging spot is right on schedule.

Again, in all its glory

Birds, bikes and baloney

I apologize in advance for sounding like a total hater, but Renegade left me pretty cold this year.

I took a lap yesterday (a gorgeous day for an outdoor fair) and felt like I was being pummelled over the head with all things soooo cuuuuute. Don't get it twisted. I love cute. I have doll furniture on my windowsills. Right this moment, I'm wearing a pink polka-dot shirt and pink shoes. Every year, I hand make Valentines with hearts and squirrels and kittens cut from construction paper and doilies. I am no enemy of whimsy; for God's sake, I am the girl with toy animals in jars on my mantel.

So maybe it wasn't the cute.

Maybe it was the repetition of so much darling. Let's all be honest. There are only so many tea towels with nesting birds and t-shirts screen printed with old-timey bikes and adorably ugly stuffed animals and moustache-shaped throw pillows and posters with affirmative sayings and deer antler tote bags and saucer-eyed owls painted on some old plywood a grown person should own.

And of course booth after booth of same after same kind of defeats the purpose of buying handmade. I go because I want to see something novel and unique. I buy because I want to support the innovative people who come up with their crazy concepts, make them into reality and put them out there for the world to see.

And I get the concept of inspiration. You see something, it inspires you, and you create your own take on it. I just didn't feel like I was seeing much variation on a theme going on. Those sticky-sweet cupcake earrings you're peddling over there are getting a little stale. Yours too over there...and there...

Ok, enough of that. Out of it all. I did see some really lovely ceramics and jewelry, and I'm always happy to ooh and ahh over Dollybird's delightfully sinister spiderweb pendants.

I think it was all of the soft edges of everything else that attracted me to the hard lines of Plural's designs. It doesn't appear to be for sale online, but they were peddling the most interesting stark, geometric black and white wrapping paper.

Along the same lines was Beth Pohlman jewelry.

I'm absolutely in love with this pyramid necklace. Her earrings are pretty sweet too.

So I guess that's a long-winded way of saying I'll probably still attend Renegade next year (probably not the holiday show. That place gets way too crowded), but I'd probably buy more if presented with more variety.

No one wants go buy their one-of-a-kind whale-shaped chalkboard and then see it in the kitchen of everyone else they know.

This is why we can't have nice things

Normally, I'm all about throwing things together willy-nilly when it comes to decorating my house. You kind of have to be when you're pretty much just buying secondhand and things are catch as catch can. I mean, if I buy it I like it, so new-to-me finds will get in where they fit in, right?

And I'm not into that whole super-perfect pristine look anyway. So no problems here--you'd think.

Except when you do get that perfect, pristine piece. Yes, yes, I'm so sorry to drag us back into the kitchen.

Now that I have my dream kitchen table, the one I would choose over an engagement ring if given the choice (hey, it's basically a big, round rock), I am having the worst time handling it. No chairs I've found seem to fit: they're too design-y and take away from the table or they're too plain and the table only brings that out, or chairs with arms look far to gangly, except I like chairs with arms, etc. etc.

I don't think I'm cut out for nice stuff, people. It's especially frustrating that I can't get it right when there are posts dedicated to the damn table's versatility.

This one, from the wonderful A Mad Tea Party with Alis even includes super-handy diagrams of high and low chair options:


Clearly, I need to get it together. So far, the one chair I've definitively wanted was this: And I'm bummed because a restaurant near my house has a bunch of these that came with the building when they bought it and they won't sell me two.

Which is well within their rights. As is it within mine to scowl in the restaurant's general direction every time I pass by.

But that doesn't make me want them any less. Quite the contrary--I'm getting even more fixated on them, which goes against the grain of my thrifting easy-come, easy-go ways.

Maybe it's time to take a little retreat with the sitter's bible

And kick back with an all-star team of fantastic, mismatched chairs You know, really get my head on straight.

It's that or the table goes.


Just kidding (mostly).