Friday, January 19, 2007
Be my guest
On with the domestication. Not quite to the big events yet, but I am spending some time with another colorful home appliance. Mr.Dyson has been extremely jealous of Miss Mango, but hopefully I will be using them each equally today. We have my best friend and her husband coming tonight, followed by Nani and Papou (my mom and dad). People will always tell you, especially the close ones, 'oh please don't clean up for us'. But I certainly don't clean up for us alot, so I jump at the chance to spend a day cleaning. Well jump could be a strong word. But honestly, do you ever miss your house?? I spend all day in it, but I don't see it much. Cleaning it is a way for me to enjoy it all over again. Downside being, I am mentally decorating and adding up a tab of things I want, constantly. How does one stop that?
A room that I barely come into is our guest room. (How do I maintain a guest room when I have 5 children, you ask? Well, Juliana has her own, the boys share, and the little girls share too. It works for us. Character building. Good gracious we have definitely built characters.) Like this one, there is a second room at the bottom of the stairs that is a finished space, but was used for storage by the previous owners. We did the same with it until about this time last year. My mom and I tackled it head on for 3 days. I used up lots of existing furniture and odds and ends that I had no home for and pulled it all together. Slipcovered an old headboard, repainted an old futon and chest of drawers, made a ledge shelf out of the old kitchen chair rail, made this for the bed (have you noticed how it moves here in the studio on occassion? I miss it sometimes), obviously we painted, hung up the unused windows from the old kitchen because this basement room doesn't have a window...well now it does, also hung an unused frame around an antique beveled mirror that felt too small.
I love having guests. I love that this room is filled up with family things. Linens from my grandmothers, my grandfather's rocking chair, my grandma's cool vintage driftwood lamp, a huge series of old books from Jeff's dad and this painting my dad made more that thirty years ago. I was born in Chicago. When we were all babies, he made this painting of the view out of our window. He has never liked it. I love it. I don't remember anything about Chicago because I was so little when we came to Tennessee. Maybe thats why I love it so much. It's the missing piece filling the gap in my memory bank. It's humble. It speaks to me about my dad's immigrant beginnings. Vibrant and warm and optimistic even though its a bleak quiet snow scene. A welcoming neighborhood for the eyes of all my visitors.
Hospitality calls....and cake dreams await! More later!