finslippy

Who wrote a book?

I did! With Eden! Hey everyone, Eden and I finished our book!

I could have sworn I wrote about this when it happened, but I see that in fact I did not. How could I have let this slip past unmentioned? That was insane of me.

The book was due March 1st, and we emailed the entire honking manuscript sometimes in the wee hours of the morning that day. The last few weeks of work were much less painful than I had been led to believe they would be, I have to say. I was told to expect not showering and not eating and wearing my pajamas inside-out and possibly some stress-induced migraines, maybe some spontaneous fear-vomiting. I was sure we were doing it wrong, because I wasn't crying or soiling myself.

On the other hand, the relative ease of our last week or so was probably because we had been working for quite a while with a deadline of February 1st. It was only in January that we were told we had another month. So that's my tip to you writers: fool yourself into thinking you have less time. Ask your editor to lie to you, then forget that she's lying, somehow--I'm sure there's a medication that can help you get all forgetsy--then scramble around in a blind, weepy panic, only to find out a couple of weeks before the faux deadline that you really have oodles more time!

I have another tip for you: start a website called "Forgetsy." I don't know what it would be. That's up to you to figure out.

Elder abuse

Hey, my March Redbook column is online! What!

Of course you already read it because you subscribed the moment you heard I was to be a regular columnist--but just in case you lost your copy when you had to throw it at a snake, or accidentally dropped it in your hot tub, here you go. With the online version, you're missing out on the illustrations, which is a shame. Next time take better care of your copy, would you?

You expect all kinds of discomfort when you have a baby. First there are the mild to moderate to are you kidding me twinges during pregnancy and the standard physical and emotional marathon of labor and delivery (plus ensuing flashbacks). Then you brace for the blinding pain of those first few days of nursing, the full-body aches and madness that come with sleep deprivation. Sure. Me, I signed up for all that. I was ready.

But then it turns out that your child continues to inflict pain upon you. The professionals couch this in terms such as boundary testing or tactile/kinesthetic exploration, but the fact is your kid will beat you up.

Read the rest there, and if you feel the need, you can comment! (You do need to register first, in order to have commenting privileges.)

I asked for it.

Never let it be said that my readers lack opinions. Sometimes all the opinions make me twitch, but in this case, you guys have been amazing.

Here's a rundown of your many and varied thoughts:

There is a general consensus that the green and red lamp is the best thing in the room. Agreed.

Also, the general sentiment is that there is too much clutter. Agreed as well, but living in a 900-square-foot apartment does present challenges, especially when you have a child who insists on throwing his Legos hither and yon. But we'll work on it, okay? GEEZ.

And now, a brief rundown of the predominant sentiments:

Wall behind couch should be painted:
Turquoise
Leafy green
Light blue
Warm yellow
Cherry red
Taupe/mushroom [ha ha, Mom. My beige-loving mom, folks!]
PAINT ALL THE WALLS BRIGHT WHITE
WHITE IS HORRIBLE, WHAT ARE YOU THINKING, YOU JERKS. [People who hate white are angry!

New rug:
In green
In yellow
Flor tiles!
In brown [now you're just messing with me]

Exposed brick wall:
Paint brick
Do not paint brick
Paint brick even though landlord would murder me in my sleep
Paint crappy Ikea basket filled with blocks
Remove clutter from mantel

Throw pillows:
Throw pillows in teal
In aqua
In aqua-teal!
Red and white!
Yellow!
Patterns! IKEA patterns!
Bolster pillow made of solid gold
Set it all on fire

Other decorative accents:
Enormous bowl with fruit on coffee table [Okay, really? Does anyone really do that? Because we use our coffee table for homework-doing and art-making and snack-enjoying, and maybe we could put a bowl on there when it's time to take a picture, but we wouldn't live with it on there. On the dining room table, okay. But the coffee-table fruit bowl idea is, in my opinion, silly.]
Vase with flowers [sure]
Basket with cherry blossom twigs in fireplace [cat would eat that, dog would pee on it]

Curtains:
Bright!
Patterned!
Aqua/teal
Sheer
NO CURTAINS. LET THE WORLD SEE YOUR SHAME.

Furniture:
Throw out valuable mid-century table under window [no thanks]
Spraypaint vintage Jens Risom chair [savages!]
[There's one option none of you mentioned, which frankly disappoints me: reupholstering that chair, which desperately needs sprucing up. Sigh.]

Bookcases:
Pare them down [no]
Get rid of some of those books [sure, but we'll only do that and add more later. Books: I like them.]
Organize books by color (I did that in our previous home, and loved it. People made fun of me. And now I'll probably do it again)
Put some books in bins.
Paint bookcases
Spraypaint them!
DON'T PAINT THEM!
Set them on fire

Artwork:
Get a giant picture above couch [working on it,been working for about a year]
Have Henry paint canvas [possibly an excellent idea, but would he crack under the artistic pressure?]
Mirror above fireplace [hmm]

The lazy option:
Hire a virtual decorator [intriguing, and might save us money in the long run. Plus look how cute they are! LOOKIT!]

This has all been quite educational. I shall mull things over, and let you know how it progresses. Thank you, everyone! Even the crazy people!

Or maybe I should just pick up some plants

I’m having my annual pre-Spring home-décor-related despair. I spent all winter holed up in here, not caring what anything looked like because it at least it was warm and (mostly) snow-free. But now it’s starting to warm up outside, and every now and then you get a whiff of something that seems Spring-like, and it’s making me a little nuts. I’m aching for color in something, a flower or a cloudless sky or the bright red of a fresh wound. And oh, God, I’m looking around this place and realizing that we’re swimming in a sea of brown! I realize that statement sounds unnerving fecal, but I’m going with it. Poop!

Dear readers, even though we had to dramatically cull our furniture inventory when we moved, everything we kept was wood or wood-toned. We crammed them all into this much smaller space, and now we’ve got mismatched wood everywhere, plus our decorative accents are all red or brown or brownish-red, and how did I not notice this before? How did I not run screaming into the night? The curtains are beige! We have an enormous exposed-brick wall! Even our rug is kind of beigey-vomity-brownish. We have a BROWN LEATHER couch. The kitchen cabinets are WOOD. The floor is WOOD. It’s like a 1970s wood-paneled den, in here! It’s an autumnal forest of horrors! HOW DID I EVER STAND IT?

I announced to Scott this morning that I was painting our crappy Ikea bookcases white, and he was all, can we talk about this? Would that go with the dark-wood dining room table and chairs that are right next to them and the brown everything-else? Then I cried and slammed doors because he doesn’t understand how much I hate all this brown, you guys! He doesn’t get it! He remarked in jest--in JEST!--that we paint everything white, and had I been dressed I would have hightailed it to Lowe’s to buy all the white paint they have. Whitewash it all! It will be like a Scandinavian dream! A marshmallow fantasy! With fuchsia accents!

Why yes, I have completely lost my mind.

UPDATE!

A few of you have asked, sheepishly, if I'm looking for advice.

Why yes. Yes, I am.

So much so that I am adding in PICTURES. Behold the brown tones, ye design-savvy, and despair:

I'm sorry it's a little dark in here, but, well, IT'S A LITTLE DARK IN HERE.

And yes, these ARE mismatched Ikea bookcases (the BILLY, of course). These are the ones I'm desperate to paint. I'm not sure if that's possible. I'm not sure if I care.

I don't know why I took this one at an odd angle, but I rather like it. It's almost as if that giant exposed-brick wall is closing in on us. Getting ready to crush our skulls.

Have at it, people. Give me advice. I'll take it all under advisement. And then I'll show you how things turn out.

How I know I am not adopted--besides the Irish chin and the Italian hips.

Me: We went sledding Saturday.
Mom: You? You went sledding.
Me: I did. I sucked it up, and I decided to just do it. It looked like fun! I mean, everyone else was having fun.
Mom: So how you'd do?
Me: I think it's safe to say that I am not a lover of danger.
Mom: I'd say so.
Me: I am missing the risk gene. I have no need for speed.
Mom: So, no more sledding for you?
Me: WHO WOULD LIKE SLEDDING? You throw yourself down a hill! I have spent my whole life avoiding falling down hills!
Mom: Ookay.
Me: I'm being hurtled down a hill and people are running away! I was inches away from head trauma! I do not understand winter sports.
Mom: As your father says about skiing: you put two sticks on your feet and throw your face in the snow.
Me: Oh, I won't ski. No.
Mom: I think that's for the best.