Everything

Heading Back To New Hampshire

2013-05-17T15:14:10Z

You guys! I just finished my first year of grad school! Wha?

It feels supremely weird to be on a school schedule at the age of 37, but I am not complaining. I am taking full advantage of it and heading back to New England: to my dear friends, to my family, my son, and the A-Frame. I will meet one of my best friend's yet-to-be-born baby (his timing is perfect), jump out of an airplane with Zane and some friends, be with my grandmother as she turns 96, eat lots and lots of soft serve ice cream, and watch lots and lots of Red Sox baseball. Matthew is joining me for a month and we've got plans for the Cape, Maine, New York, and tons of New Hampshire, where I will turn 38.

I am insanely excited to get back to the A-Frame. If you know me you know that I will stay up all night painting, carry couches up stairs alone, and teach myself minor carpentry in the middle of the night in order to finish an interior project. When I get going it's incredibly hard for me to stop. The A-Frame doesn't allow for that kind of obsessive work; our rhythm with it is fits and starts, seasonal, and severely financially restrained. Having to wait all winter to begin work is a kind of bizarrely pleasureable form of torture for a person like me. I am as excited to work on the A-Frame as I am to see my friends - does that make me a terrible person?

This summer's big project is the kitchen. I've got to raise the sink somehow, paint it, and hook up the gravity fed bucket of water in the loft to the faucets. Then we'll tackle the space by the stove. I'm wondering if I should just get some Ikea cabinets or if I should get all crafty with my dad and put something together made out of what's around. I'll let you know either way!

Noticing

2013-05-07T17:15:24Z

I'm in finals this month and am pulling 8-14 hour days, drawing, drafting, writing, designing, and photoshopping. I sit in my office to do all this; my world feels very small right now. KQED on the radio, oatmeal for breakfast, slippers on my feet, colored pencils cover every surface. Every day is predictable and interchangeable with the next. I kind of love this.

The only time I get out of the office is on my daily walk to my local grocery store to get my lunch. I intentionally leave our refrigerator empty in order to get myself out into the perpetually shining sun (when I think a guilty New England-style "I really should get out, it's so beautiful" thought it is immediately followed by a California-style shrug and, "There will be another one, probably tomorrow.").

On this brief walk of 5 minutes and 6 seconds (yes, I have timed it) I try to notice something new every day. Luckily, my neighborhood makes it easy. My hill is covered in mid century apartment buildings whose facades are objectively stunning, but made more stunning by my New England-trained aesthetic comfort zone, all clapboards and shutters, beautiful in an under-stated, slightly Puritanical way.

The trees and bushes and flowers (and herbs! Rosemary and lavendar are basically weeds here) have all been planted in layers that create depth and height to every yard, even the smallest ones. If I wanted to, I could steal my daily intake of citrus and fruit, gather bouquets of gorgeous flowers, and harvest clippings for a variety of house plants all from my neighbor's yards.

So here is a little bit of my daily walk:

This is my favorite by far. I mean, hello.Dr. Seuss tree

ApricotsNice of these flowers to coordinate so well

Texture texture textureOh what the?Giant palm frond Animal

Our apartment buildingWhy be a square when you can be a hexagon?

My Son Is 19 Today

2013-04-23T15:10:57Z

Remember when Zane turned 18? That was awesome. Today he turns 19.

There are a lot of firsts in a parents life and every parent notices different ones. When your baby is young they come every day, like a barrage of cheap and common tricks, every one of them new and exciting to you and boring to others; every baby rolls eventually.

When your baby reaches pre-adolescence the firsts become more nuanced and fraught with potential pain - the first time she won't hold your hand in public or tell you she loves you in front of her friends; where you were once cool you are now a dork. I remember the first time I refused to skip down the street with my mom, newly self-conscious and beginning the hard act of distinguishing myself from her. She took it in stride, but I remember knowing I had hurt her.

When your pre-adolescent becomes a teenager their firsts as people become indistinguishable from your firsts as a parent - the first time they drive on their own is the first time you let them drive on their own. And when your teenager becomes an adult most of their firsts are unknown to you, mysterious and probably cringe-worthy - you are happy to let them be that way.

So.
My baby. The first time I cut food for him. When his L's became actual L's; "yud" became "love." His first deep cut, above his left eyebrow. The stitches. The first day he did not nurse. The first time he saw the ocean.

My child. His first subway ride. Baseball game. Sleepover. Crush.

My teenager. Hair. Oh the hair! When "Can you come over and play?" became "Wanna hang out?" He is taller than me. Driving.

My young adult. Complex relationships. Hitting 6' 3". Work. More work. Living in a house other than mine. Filing his taxes. And this:

His first birthday without his mom waking him up to wish him Happy Birthday. His first birthday in which he will not see his mom at all. Which is to say, dear reader, my first birthday without being able to wake him up and wish him Happy Birthday. My first birthday not seeing him at all.

This is, of course, a first that every parent will go through, and so in some ways it is cheap and common and not exciting to anyone, least of all me. But it is also a first that feels overwhelmingly significant.

When I turned 19, Zane was at my birthday party. He was 3 months and 1 day old. We have been sharing birthdays for half my life now. To not share this one with him means that, really and truly and kind of forever, our relationship has moved on from the intimate and immediate one we've had for the last 18 years and into a distant and distinctly adult one. From now on, the injuries he sustains will be handled by doctors, he is well acquainted with a fork and knife, he can buy his own ballgame tickets, and he has driven across the country. Twice.

My role is no longer an observer and cheerleader of firsts. To be honest, I don't really know what it is, for the first time.

The first time he lived in a tent in the woods of CA.The first time he saw the Badlands.

The first time he was so handsome.

So, if you see him today, tell him his mother wishes him a Happy Birthday, okay?

Sleeping!

2013-04-16T15:49:03Z

As you know, I am a very lazy and tired person. Sleeping is my number one hobby and my best friend and gosh I just love it, so you can imagine that where I sleep is really important to me.

Like almost everything in our apartment, I didn't really plan for our bedroom to come together like this, but I'm happy that it did. It's covered in gifts from friends and sentimental bits and pieces from my past, and feels lived in yet warmly spare. Is that a thing? Warmly spare? Let's make it a thing.

Unlike other rooms in my life, where I love layers and layers of objects and controlled craziness and personality, I need my bedroom to strike a balance between cozy and minimal. Avoiding high contrast colors, shiny things, and big statement pieces focuses the room on its function: sleeping. Also, when you have a partner who has hypnogogic hallucinations, believe me, less is more.

So here is our room thus far. Can I take a nap now?

Client Bedroom Sneak Peek!

2013-04-06T02:59:14Z

I am so close to being able to show you this whole room! Until then, let's just look at this right here and breathe a little deeper.

How To Draw A Treehouse

2013-03-29T18:40:40Z

I haven't shared much about my grad program here, have I? Well, I'm in grad school. I'm in the Interior Architecture and Design MFA program at the Academy of Art University. I know, academy and university is redundant and there are WAY too many vowels in their name.

Last semester I took a Sketching in Perspective class and learned how to do this:

I designed this room. It's in an Eichler house and I love it.

I hadn't really drawn anything since I was in grade school. When I scan my memory for any instances of drawing I find very few, and they are mostly coloring, not drawing. Reading? Tons. Fort-making? For sure. Daydreaming about being the first woman on Mars? Yup. But no drawing. So to be able to produce the room above after 16 weeks felt pretty awesome.

Anyway, this semester I'm taking Sketching for Design, which builds on Sketching in Perspective. In it we add color, shade, shadow, and reflections to our drawing to render a semi-realistic representation of a room. We've used pastels, colored pencils and markers so far, and boy do I feel like a really sophisticated 8-year-old. I spend hours and hours drawing, you guys. Pretty neat-o if you ask me.

So here is my midterm. I'm pretty proud of it considering where I was a few months ago, and because I got an A- on it. It's nearly impossible to get an A in any class at my school, so this is essentially my best work. The assignment was to draw a dream room in 2-point perspective, do color studies, and render the room in color with shade, shadow, and reflection. When I asked myself, "What's your dream room?" my 14-year-old self answered, "A treehouse, obviously." I never ignore my 14-year-old self (except when she's telling me to peg my jeans) and went for it.

I have explanations for every item and every color (you have to justify everything you design!), but I won't bore you with the details. Here is my 14-year-old self's dream treehouse:

Transfer of my original drafted drawing onto coldpress paperColor study on tracing paper

Starting to color!I actually love the negative spaces.

Almost there.A little black & white landscaping to help you know you're in a treehouse.

My 37-year-old self would totally hang out in here.

How To Avoid Being Crushed In Your Bed When The Big One Comes

2013-03-22T17:07:13Z

In California you shouldn't hang anything big or heavy above your bed for obvious reasons. Also, if you have a partner who suffers from hypnogogic hallucinations you shouldn't have anything big or heavy hanging above your bed anyway (I'd advise you to not have a partner who suffers from hypnogogic hallucinations if you can help that too).

Lots of people resort to tall headboards to fill the space above their beds, which is fine, if you like headboards. I don't. So what to do?

My friend Meredith and I went to the San Francisco Renegade Craft Fair this winter and were both overwhelmed by the amount of vendors and customers, delighted by the color-blocked geometric jewelry, and down right in love with these jams and jellies. Much like every large craft fair/flea market experience I've ever had, I was too overwhelmed to actually buy anything, until I saw this guy hanging on his vendor's wall. I knew I had to have him at once, and we know what happens to me when I know I have to have something.

I took him home, decided that I don't care if you think it's twee or hipster or overtly romantic (because you are wrong) and hung him above our bed. He weighs about 2 grams, Matthew can't see him in his hallucinations, and no, he won't impale us when the big one comes.

Phone Apps That Help Me Procrastinate

2013-03-11T00:24:18Z

Montaj.

A White Bed Is All You Need

2013-03-03T19:26:00Z

I can't get into colored or patterned bedding. I change my mind too much to commit, and there's something about a patterned duvet that looks overly designer-y to me. Much like the rest of my house, I prefer to keep things white and layer on color in accessories. For my bed, I just buy pretty scarves wherever I find them (I found these at Old Navy, Target, and friends gave me that last one) and put them at the foot. Easy, inexpensive, and interchangeable.

Rental Lighting

2013-02-17T23:25:24Z

You've seen this light probably a thousand times. It's the worst light known to man. It costs $2 at any hardware store in the country and that's why landlords love it.

BOO.

Luckily, all the other lighting on our apartment has been here since the 60's or earlier. It's just this one dang overhead in our otherwise gorgeous dining room that is a wicked bummer. Another bummer is our overzealous landlord. She's great at getting things done, but hyper aware and sensitive to the state of our apartment, which means I was afraid of asking her if I could change it out. If she said no and I did it anyway she'd be pissed. If she said no and I didn't do it anyway I'd be disproportionately sad and mopey and possibly suicidal.

Here is the first photo we ever took of our dining room. It was very late and we had just had an EPIC lease signing session that took over 2 hours and almost had me in tears. Our landlady, she is very thorough.

I mean, look at that room, right? How do you put a shiny fake brass boob on its ceiling? Even though the light's ubiquity, banality, and insipid boringness was highly offensive to me, finding a replacement was not a priority due to my landlady's almost supernatural level of observation.

But then I went to the Alameda Antiques Fair, which is huge and wide and huge, and I found this guy.

He was filthy. He was $40. He was mine.

Let me back up: Our dining room looked like this briefly.

I found that dining set at an awesome thrift store on Telegraph Ave. for $320, delivered. It felt like an act of faith buying it; a little prayer for new friends that might join us for dinner one day. But God and I don't have the best relationship, so the chairs stayed empty and we sat in there maybe 3 times in 4 months. I quickly gave up on the idea of dinner parties and turned my attention to needing office space in which to be a grad student with a drafting table.

So the dining room became my office, and I found this light, and because I have clients I know an electrician (guys, he's a hipster electrician complete with a moustache, hat, and cuffed jeans), and he came and installed the light for me, and I didn't ask my landlady, and please don't tell her, and I love it.

And, don't worry about us, we are making friends. We just make them eat on the floor in the living room. It's fine, really.