Style and Stylability

Warning: Many links to many amazing things ahead. I've already gotten a couple of other people hooked. This is fair warning. You may be as well...

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I've never felt like I have much of a sense of style when it comes to home decor. Other than the boylets' nursery, I've never even decorated an entire room. The Ex and I always had plans for the basement, when we finished it (we never even started), and for the dining and living rooms (we never moved beyond an area rug and some paint chips.) Even in my home with MTL, we never did get around to painting the bedrooms as we had planned. Time ran out, school started up, and other than choosing paint chips yet again...nothing. There are a few desultory photos and pieces of art on some walls, and decorative pieces placed on bookcases and the entertainment cabinet.

The most cohesively decorated room in our house is the downstairs half-bath, which has developed a soft seaside theme. It's nothing overwhelming.

I don't have much confidence in my ability to pull together cohesive, lovely interior design. I've doubted my instinct for it, and it's certainly never been put to the test. I was recently in the home of a friend-of-a-friend who had every room beautifully painted, with just the right decorative pieces and pillows and furniture and art. It felt pulled-together and homey and elegantly artsy. Even though I might not have made the same choices for my own home, I felt a streak of envy over her design instinct.

As I mentioned in my self-pitying moan yesterday, I've become addicted to Etsy.com, the home of many many beautiful handmade things (along with the downright bizarre and fugly, much celebrated on Regretsy.com, which I discovered first.) The brilliant and very artsy Heidi finally got me hooked on Etsy a few weeks ago, and I've been obsessed ever since.

As my list of favorite items and stores has grown, and as I've channeled my creative and obsessive urges into crafting thematic treasury lists, I've begun to recognize definite trends in what I like.

Apparently I am much drawn to stark, elegant trees and branches (like these pillows and these drawings and these incredible woodburnings and this pendant and this print collection and the breathtaking photography of a fellow Michigander). I can picture the art and pillows in my dream living room, with lots of wood and soft earthy tones in the furniture.

I knew that I like birds--at least when they're outdoors--but did not realize how much I love their images in art and jewelry until I started recognizing the trend in my Etsy picks. From stylized art to Poe-esque gothic photography to fantasy illustrations to incredible watercolors, birds appear in much of the art to which I am drawn. They even show up in some of my jewelry picks, sometimes combining both bird and tree, as in this elegant pendant.

I also love a number of quirky items, such as the work of the artists OddFauna and Kellie Schneider and Studio Lyon, as well as the slightly less weird but still left-of-center Eastwiching (check out the adorable foxes and elephants, especially!)

I'm beginning to create rooms in my head. I'd have the living room done with trees and birds. Animals and fairy tale creatures would frolic in kids' and guest bedrooms. I already have a huge gorgeous stick-and-ink drawing of three female figures in my bedroom (courtesy of my sister from her art class days), and I'd continue on that theme with work from artists like Krystyna and Kellie Schneider. (I don't think MTL would mind.) I'd increase our collection of wood carvings with work from the Natural Selection Studio and DD Wood Creations.

My dream house would be filled with rich earthy tones and soft blues and greens. Brighter colors would pop in accent decor. There would be wood everywhere, along with comfortable but streamlined furniture. It would be a place where I would be surrounded by beauty in every room, but where my heart and mind and soul would be soothed.

I have a home wherever I am with My True Love, but I can dream of a place that would our home in physical as well as emotional expression.

Now I just have to win the lottery...

Ennui and Such

I feel like writing, but don't know what to write.

I feel like making someone laugh, but don't know where my humor has gone.

I feel like crawling into bed for about four more hours of sleep, but all my sick leave is used up (more than used up--I've been docked about two weeks pay by this point over the last several months) and I have to be here at work.

I do find myself, oddly enough, actually looking forward to summer. I think summer is a challenge I'm determined to conquer, pray God, this year. The last few have been pretty dismal.

Beck over at Frog and Toad Are Still Friends has been writing about dealing with children, oh she of the many ideas and ways to entertain herself and her children, and also the dread of summer. If she ever does come out with the book she's threatening to write, I may be first in line to buy. Because as I've mentioned before, I'm not so great at the SAHM biz. The PPD didn't help, certainly, but even without that it's difficult for me to really get into the whole thing--it requires a great deal of organization, motivation, and patience, none of which are exactly my forte when it comes to kid stuff.

But, based on Beck's wisdom that Planning is a Mom's Best Friend, perhaps I should start now. After all, it's less than two months before summer is here and the kidlets start spending most of the week at home.

(This is going to be interesting in and of itself. What with being separated and so far doing the whole who-has-the-kids-when thing in a very "organic" way--a nice euphemism for figuring it out as we go or flying by the seats of our pants; also with the whole question about how we're going to work out where I'll be once my parents leave, what with ComputerDaddy being Totally Freaked Out about me/the kids living in Detroit without them around: I have no clue what this summer will look like. Wooosaaah, as my students say. Release, let it go, trust in God. Not an easy lesson for me, folks.)

There are things I can do about planning. Actually talking about it with ComputerDaddy in the safety and mediation of marriage counseling, for one. Checking into kid-friendly lessons (like swimming) and activities that various organizations offer during the summer, for two. Seeing if my church has VBS or anything else mommy-child oriented available, for three. Talking in a more organized, planning sort of way with my friends who also will have small children at home in the summer, for four.

Good ideas. Besides, talking is my forte.

Truth? I'm terrified of what I'll be facing when my parents leave. It's true I need to take that next step to prove to myself (and ComputerDaddy) that I can continue in my new strength and openness even without them there as a daily support. I'll have a good trial period in the next couple of weeks, since they will be leaving on Saturday for a two-week trip. It's not so much that I think I can't handle it; it's just that things are so much easier and smoother with them around.

But then, I won't grow if things are too easy, will I?

Sometimes I don't like having to be the grown up.

Call Me Betsy Ross and I'll Stitch Your Lips Shut

Nope, I haven't reneged on my promise to start blogging again! The days are passing swiftly and are full of chaos at the moment, since DramaBoy and The Widget are sick (still) and Stuff keeps getting in the way of what I'd rather be doing--blogging, reading on my Kindle 2 (which is my new inorganic best friend), and doing cross stitch.

Yeah, you read me right. My students and coworkers were ridiculing me for being such an Old Lady by sitting peacefully as I passed needle and floss in and out the perforated cloth*. Oh, my grandma did that! exclaimed one student. How old ARE you? queried another impertinent youth. Glares and meaningful glances at the pottery jar labeled "Ashes of Obnoxious Teenagers" that sits on my filing cabinet did nothing to abate the snickering.

Until they saw what initially appeared to be random stitches in various colors transforming into a charming and vivid piece of art. I'm not linking the image because it's a gift for a loved one who sometimes reads this blog--maybe I'll do so once it's been framed and gifted. The snickers turned to exclaimations of delight, the disdain into appreciation. They also agreed that I had been far less snarky and cranky on the occasions I had pulled out my craft. (This is always to the good, in their opinion. They love me dearly, of course, but it's rather like adoring a snarly and imperious great cat who might just take a swipe with a verbal paw if you rub her fur the wrong way.)

One senior boy in my Creative Writing class even started asking if I would make something for him. Gradually his requests turned into wondering if perhaps this was something he could do himself. My comment that I have an uncle who has done cross stitch wasn't even needed--this is a boy secure in his identity and masculinity, so much so that his buddies didn't even leap on this prime opportunity for ridicule (which is unfair, because hey, they'd been the ringleaders in ridiculing me just days before!) So he spent some time on Joann.com checking out the cross stitching kits and asking my advice on levels of difficulty. I can just picture him in college, sitting contentedly on his dorm bed after a long day of classes and football practice and studying, watching TV while he stitches away at a pattern of wolves or footballs or rubber duckies!

So there's my good deed in the name of gender egalitarianism.

Oh, and humor? In short supply at the moment. I used it up tickling and teasing my young sons into fits of shrieking laughter last night. And it's too early in the morning. The coffee is still working its way through my bloodstream. Sorry, Lauren dear, if this didn't meet your high standards. Sort of along the lines of wimpy sunlight struggling to get over the horizon because Daylight Savings Time makes everyone Too Damn Tired.

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*Yeah, yeah, I know. What am I doing cross stitching at school/work? Procrastinating, for one. Passing time while observing students doing group work in Lit 10 and 11 and writing stuff in Creative Writing, for another. Keeping my hands busy so that I didn't inadvertently strangle a teen or two, for sure. Don't judge me!