Dear Red Bedroom By Scott Horne, Will You Be Mine?

Please bear with me while I have a selfish and materialistic moment:
All it would take to copy would be:

Bed

Tables (need to be painted)

Rug

Light Fixture (I'd go chandelier instead of sconce)

I might have too much red in my house . . . I could copy the whole thing in blue or green though! All I need is a winning lottery ticket so my fantasy bedroom can join me in our destiny.

Gimme gimme gimme.

Okay. I think it is out of my system now. Thanks for still being my friend. (This is where you say, "Darn tootin'. I'll be your friend forever, even though that looks like a crazy cat lady bedroom.")

Post Edit: Listen people. I know you read my blog. I read my google statistics/statcounter and I know that you are out there. So comment. Now. The fact that I have received ZERO comments on my last two posts is depressing to me. So hurry up and give me some positive reinforcement before I go PRIVATE which I consider the blogging equivalent of taking all my toys and going home. That is all.

Post Post Edit: Okay, that was a little harsh. Sorry. I just like hearing about how cute my kids are.

Winds of Change, They are a Blowing

Alice asked me the other day why I always want to change the furniture around. My best answer was, "Because I'm a woman, and am not happy when things are in stasis."

I'm restless. I'm tired of this house. We've never stayed in a house for more than 3 1/2 years before. I feel like we've collected too much stuff, and for some reason, none of it is stuff that I can picture us keeping long term. It feels so cleansing to move things and make space.

Last week we took Bessie the deceased dreadmill to the appliance recycler (anything that I get a lot of mileage out of automatically earns the name Bessie from me. Especially if I feel like I've gotten more use out of it than I paid for. We bought Bessie the dreadmill for $150 used on Craigslist a few years ago and she definitely paid her dues. I'm not sure what piece of equipment will earn the name next, but it is looking like it might be the Kitchen Aid mixer). Old Bessie took up a lot of space. I was originally hoping to replace her . . . but am no longer inclined to house giant masses of hulking metal in my dining room. Instead I grew to desire a larger dining room table to fill the void.

Blast Craig and his rotten list. I think he hides subliminal messages inside of it to cause me to be addicted and I must stalk it night and day to find other people's used stuff that is better than my own used stuff. Blast Apartment Therapy too, for bolstering my mania.

After all the table stalking, I found one. It wasn't even on Craig's Magical List. It was in my friend's house. She too bought a new/used one after stalking Craigslist. And then she named our disease Craigslist-itis. I'd blame her for giving it to me, but I'm fairly confident I've had it ever since we lived in Boston.

In celebration of finding a new/old table for an insanely good price (which reminds me, I still have to pay her . . .) I took down all the art off of the walls and began rearranging last night at midnight. I shuffled knick-knacks and eyed Michael's gargantuan desk with it's two computers, two printers, speakers, scanners and inestimable wires with contempt. Be aware, Giant Desk. He can't protect you forever.

He did humor me however, a few weeks ago when I convinced him that we should spend one of his few days off reconfiguring the master bedroom. I actually ran with the IKEA fabric frame idea (buyer beware: the wood on those IKEA frames is much too hard to staple fabric into. You must use the tiny nails provided in the kit, and it is nearly impossible to keep the fabric flat while hammering. I wound up using cheap-o canvases from Michael's Craft (with my 40% off coupon, of course) instead). We donated the old headboard and he moved about 600 lbs of medical textbooks off of our shelves and into storage. Be sure to congratulate him on this feat when you next see him, it took a herculean effort to part himself from his precious books. The result was quite happifying to me (I reap great satisfaction from accomplishing projects that cost next-to-nothing), and rather than being appeased, I only hungered for more.

Now Craig, if your magical list could only provide me with a free/extremely cheap used piano, some large antique photo frames, mirrors and/or old maps that would look nice above the new/used table I would be forever thankful. In return I shall post pictures of a farm style table that has been painted black and distressed by my perpetually unhappy with the status quo self (though I have a feeling this condition will change once we finally graduate from rentals with plastic mini-blinds, warped vinyl linoleum and 80's era ceiling fans).

Dreaming . . .

We need a bigger table. If we add one guest, ours is full . . . and frankly, what's the fun in only having one guest? I became especially self-conscious last week when two of our guests insisted that they were perfectly comfortable sitting on the floor while they ate. I protested, but was hardly in the position to give up my seat as I was perched on top of our vintage school desk next to Redhead the fish.

Images unscrupulously lifted from Craigslist

So I have been browsing (in an extremely non-committal window-shopping type way) Craigslist to see if an affordable upgrade appears. And I have been reminded of my love for the old-school retro style dining sets. I fell for these back in the days when Everybody Loves Raymond was on the tube, and everyone would gather around Frank and Marie's powder blue chrome and vinyl dinette set for lasagna.

I personally think these sets should make their way back into mass production. The vinyl seats would be a cinch to clean with the kids, and I wouldn't have to freak out about about water rings being left on the formica table top.

Some problems with my dream . . . while extremely affordable, the vintage tables are nearly impossible to find in a size bigger than 62 inches. Also, some of the color combinations can make the sets look a little kitschy (there are a lot of cherry red reproduction sets that I am not interested in). The gray, pale blue and light yellow sets are little more to my taste right now. And lastly, my husband thinks I'm insane for coveting something from our grandparent's era. Am I?

I've found this reproduction company that would charge me only a little more than I could get by selling my left kidney on the black market for a custom family size table.

Sigh.

Craigslist again

Image lifted from Apartment Therapy