“Ooh, maybe not a good idea for a balcony where you’re living with them up close,” my mum warned, “they tend to get bad aphid infestations”.

“It’ll be fine” as I clicked order.

Guess what? Aphid infestations are thick, oozy, sticky, black messes on top of flowers you very quickly start to hate. Mummy – you told me so. There. It’s in print.

Paging through your seed catalogues this very week? Yea… cancel those nasty nasturtiums.

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Photo credit to ken mccown and  krossbow via Flickr Creative Commons

Total train-wrecks:

1. The ‘real estate investing’ seminar the poor author endures. It’s so much worse than you can imagine and – guess what – a total scam (page 153-).
2. The investment property he buys over the internet – all in the name of research. Nope, it doesn’t end well (page 165-).

Tone: I was going to describe his tone as “very Newsweek”. Then I read his bio: he writes for Newsweek. That’s weird. Anyway, I mean it’s pleasant, easy, highly anecdotal with a sprinkling of facts & statistics.

Interesting:

• In 1950 the average American home had 983 square feet (page 17). Guess what it was for new homes by 2005? *Answer’s at the bottom.
• The shape of colonial-style houses make them cheaper to build (page 41).
• Pick up some tips on being a more observant house-hunter (in new homes especially), i.e. where to look for detail/quality (page 38).

Agree/disagree? “[I]nquiring about the size [of a friend or host's house] has become perfectly reasonable behavior” (page 40). Whaaat?

Off-putting: The excess of McMansion life described in Chapter 1. Makes me want to live in an apartment forever, in protest. Here’s the “new” California King – in our bedroom it would hang 7″ on to the balcony (page 46).

 Covers Canada? Hardly. This is a story of American excess.

1 reason to read it? New insight into life in the Arrested Development show-home.

Conclusion: Perfect when waiting for dentists, buses and, ahem, late boyfriends. Some chapters held my interest more than others, but I was happy to have House Lust as a handbag companion for the past week.

*2005 average square footage for new American homes: 2,434 (page 17).

This leaves a huge wall and a huge void – some 15% of our total apartment is just… a weird L-shaped dance floor. We use it for an over-sized laundry drying factory, a dance floor and whirling dervish practice space.

Extra space isn’t a problem per se, but I think it looks a little funny – and we’re treading towards staging time. If Ingo actually fit adult humans around it, we’d put it back in the middle and sup from it. Instead, shivering on the balcony table almost makes a better dining experience. I’d rather spend nothing at all – but recognize this as a stubborn trend with predictable results. Do we need to simply suck it up and replace Ingo with a proper dining table and chairs? We liked this chunky chap – but think it clashes with our floor. (And, please, let’s put our days of painting Ikea behind us – first Ingo, then Bekvam, Groland, Expedit and Hemnes. Enough!)

The kitchen is huge & I think the living area around the couch is now nicely defined. Do we need some dining bling-bling? Do apartment-dwellers actually dine? They probably dance, right?

What’s needed on the nekked wall? Art? Mirrors? Shelves?

Increase the global karma supply – donate some genius ideas for this weird L-shaped void. Help!

I’d made wild and determined promises about growing the most gorgeous balcony garden last summer. It wasn’t. Certainly I loved it, but it wasn’t categorically Best In Show.

Learned? A lot.

• Growing from seed: we grew 18 things on the balcony plant list from seed (or bulb).
• Name recognition & pest patrol: I must know a hundred more plant names, and can better fend off an aphid or whitefly attack (with a ready spray bottle of Dr. Bronners & veggie oil).
• Compost success: Another boon was the worm compost! The first time we’ve had ready supplies to dish out through the growing season. Happiest hosta I ever saw.

• Fully kitted out: We also built a potting bench and then a cold frame – better realizing what our plants would need.
• Cuttings: We’re getting better at taking cuttings, too. Last year we tried to propagate our scented geraniums and fuchsia. By November we had a big tub of mould and death. Fairly certain we’ll have better success this year.

This year’s balcony garden plan: The 2011 experiment has given me better ideas for staging & selling time – while enjoying the balcony for as long as we live here.

1. A few pots, a few very attractive pots will be magic. (Something we might need to save up for – higher quality pots. The bargain-bin Home Depot black plastic ones… the love’s wearing thin).

2. Does it smell nice? I wonder how much the Westin spends to churn out their “nice white smell” into hotels all over. Gazillions, surely. What IF our balcony smelled that good? Honey-scented alyssums were a happy accident staying totally true to their name.

3. Magic number? I’ve heard it’s best to grow things in threes? More versions of the same plant, with less total variety?

4. Trailing things, tall things, green things. This year, I definitely need more trailing things (to disguise my ugly pots) – as well as to plan out better height. A better coordination of colour, as well as different shades of green. It was very lush, but all the same shade of green. Commit to memory: consider better height, leaf texture & scent.

5. Avoid heavy plant pots - they suck to move. Don’t grow a jungle – but try to learn just as much again!

Lots more books to read in the mean time. For a good primer & planting reference, I really recommend McGee & Stuckey’s Bountiful Container. Would anyone really notice if I just chucked a half dozen orchids on the patio table for a lying piece of open house deceit? Maybe if it’s still snowing outside….

In particular, I wanted to get better at container gardening. With our veggies packed off to our community garden plot, the balcony just had to be pretty. With grand schemes, we went.  I skulked. We bought a dozen new babies & gently tucked them into the car. Then what?

They grew. Some more than others. You know how, when you adopt an animal, they check you won’t kill it through neglect & total ignorance? The business plan of a plant nursery depends on the very opposite. By July, I realized the assembly didn’t look good. Balcony containers looked messy & droopy; plants were indistinguishable as they flopped on to each other.

Growing on our balcony – 2011

• (Spring: Crocuses, daffodils & tulips)
• Trailing lobelia
• Parsley
• Snapdragons
• So many impatiens they were visible from space
• Basil
• Spanish love vine (in italics so you read it in a Penelope Cruz voice)
• Some orange filler thing with trumpet-shaped flowers
• Fivies
• Ornamental grasses – a very manly sounding plant
• Lavender (pathetic things grown from seed plus a baddie from the nursery)
• Sucky-ass coleus (3 kinds)

• 2 confused and lanky tomato plants
• Pineapple sage
• Sweet peas (no good)
• Honey-scented alyssum (very good)
• Scented geraniums (One “over-wintered” and barely hanging on, another bought at the nursery – grew 3 feet tall with 6″ leaves… not a single fucking flower)
• A hosta! (the first one we haven’t killed!)
• Various failures with Scottish and Irish moss (“Oops” says the English girl)
• Outstanding smash hits with 2 lily bulbs
• A too-tall and quite lanky Queen Victoria lobelia (pretty, but funny-looking on its own)
• Some reddish dock thing that Paolo liked – looked like a weed to me
• A bay plant
• Mint

• Accidentally seeded wild flower (pretty but way too tall)
• Marjoram that just kept coming – totally my new favourite herb
• Rosemary that totally, utterly bit the dust
• Petunias we gladly let die
• A half-dozen gladiola bulbs that never flowered
• A pink thing called “pink flirtation”
• Lettuces that attracted major aphids
• Potatoes
• A spotted dead nettle unimpressed with my attempts at over-wintering.
• A tree peony that wasn’t sure if it liked us or not
• And the world’s most disappointing blueberry bush (net total: zero blueberries).

That’s… 41 different types of plants. In about 10 pots. No wonder it was ugly – that’s an acid trip with leaves. I took very few photos of the accidental ugly baby balcony garden. Instead, here’s a gratuitous shot of Vancover in August. It’s not always gloom & doom:

This list was a surprise to me – no idea I’d gone so far overboard. “Shove it in, shove it in”… perhaps not the slogan of Successful Balcony Gardening. While I now know the name of  at least 38 more plants… this year we’re having 1 fern & that’s it.

 I like it because:

• Math and financial things are explained in sentence, not equations.
• It offers lots of  staging tips, with the summary: “If it feels like a hotel, it’s ready to sell!” (page 76).
• It’s a local perspective – Vancouver-specific points and illustrative anecdotes.
• More reasons not to sell-by-owner – Sarah says it’s a full-time job.
• She provides ‘buyer beware’ examples in a casual, conversational tone.

“[I]n Vancouver, a recent check showed fewer than 50 detached houses in the entire city limits listed at less than $500,000″ (page 22). Gah! Bastards.

Ew, I didn’t know that! You pay HST on realtor commissions? E.g. A typical realtor commission on a $500k home would be $17,000…. plus 12% HST…. bye-bye $2040 more monies (page 37).

Tone: Lots of “hecks”, though far fewer than from our old friend Jay. Still, she’s likable and knows her audience. Explaining tax implications of buying a new home she quips, “I didn’t make the law, so don’t start looking for me” (page 125).

4 examples of how strata living can suck – so be careful (page 111):

1. Use of elevator to move furniture requires notice and a fee;
2. Regulations on draperies and window coverings;
3. No bbqs;
4. No Christmas lights.

“Read all documents regardless of how boring they are!” (page 116). Except, in the book, this is in caps.

She covers reasons not to flip a house, all of them valid, making me certain that we’re not ‘flipping’ but rather renovating a home we’ll sell sooner or later for more space. I can see her point – it’s risky if your intended result (price tag) doesn’t materialize when you need it to, either because of market conditions or your overly personalized décor (page 145). She then goes into matters about adding a second suite and renting it to tenants – I skipped this part as it didn’t apply.

Tip! As soon as you close on your home, find a mover  (page 192) – I might do some research and get some quotes over the winter. Last time our movers were SO bad (any recommendations?).

“I always recommend that my clients hire a professional maid service to do the final cleaning of their old place” (page 193). Yes!!!! Agree!!!!

Another tip! On moving-in day, “book a locksmith to come by and re-key all the external doors” (page 195).

 Covers Canada? Nothing but.

1 reason to read it? Knowledge acquisition.

Conclusion: It’s a few hours’ insight, tips & experience from a local agent – not all of it applies to me because I know what I want & what I can afford. Still, this books covers Canadian basics for all aspects of buying/selling new vs old buildings, strata vs freehold, apartment vs townhouses vs house-houses.

“Want me to tape that for you? Need a coffee? No? I made one anyway. Want me to rearrange your tools in order of size, colour or prettiness?”

He needed no help. There was but one job to do: vanquish ugly. Results? So, so, sooooooo glorious. Bad before/after photos after this brief anecdote.

The tale of the soap holder that said no. I’d allotted about 3 seconds to take before photos, before Mr. Spray Man arrived. Instead, I decided I should extra-clean the tiles & bath tub. Mr. Clean joined the party – so many Misters in such a tiny bathroom – and I used up all my Moment Allocation in cleaning. When I got to the second of our two seventies soap holders, it hit Eject. If it couldn’t be ugly, it didn’t want to stay. I hadn’t put more than the thought of pressure on the soap holder, when the whole thing smashed into the tub. (An escape? A revolt?) Like a wiggly tooth, it had been hanging on just long enough to mess with us. Had we not cleaned the bath tub twice, we’d have an $800 brand new bath tub… wrecked & ruined moments later by a mutinous soap holder. (Mr. Spray Man arrived 3 seconds later & I had to show him a gaping hole in the wall. He laughed, and stuck the bastard back on with Never-Coming-Off-Glue. Then sprayed it to death as punishment).

So no apology for bad photos – just pleased at a  paranoia disguised as poorly planned house-pride.

This crap iPhone photo is to match its bad friend. Use your pretending & agree how much better it looks, while also pretending that it’s perfectly white – and that you’re imagining the ghostly apparition.

…Oh, and the actual Someone Else Does the Hard Stuff? … I don’t think I can ever go back. Who knows anyone who’s rich and amenable to quick sham weddings? Lazy needs cash.

A and B

1. ÅFJÄRDEN – bathroom towels, beige – as seen in our renovated bathroom. So far, they’ve stayed fluffy & fold up well.
2. ÄPPLARÖ – gateleg table, arm chair & bench. Love them! Fold up in the winter & make a perfect outdoor desk in the summer.
3. BEHANDLA wood treatment oil – does the job, but smells bad – as mentioned in my Ikea butcher block review.
4. BEKVÄM – Kitchen cart – since hacked to match the cupboards
5. BLADET – big vase – we keep toilet paper in it. Writing that makes it sound weird. Is that weird? (Decide: bathroom photos).
6. BLANDA BLANK – Ikea calls these serving bowls, but that’s a hell of a lot of pasta salad. Put one atop another & you have a chihuahua-holder.
7. BOLLÖ – Folding chairs & table. Ugh. We’re not fat, but these are little chairs indeed. We’re still using them – painted white – as ghetto dining chairs. I don’t recommend coming to dinner at my house.
8. BORRIS – door mats for cheapy-cheap. They do the trick in our laundry room - we have 3 or 4. I call them all Boris Johnson.
9. BRÄDA – laptop support – ugly but useful, & highly recommended. They have a red & white stripey one now.

E through G

10. EGEBY – sisal rug – we put this guy in the kitchen to better protect the laminate floor from splashed water (see at in the last photo in the butcher block post). Really like it, though it’s a bit scratchy at first.
11. ENUDDEN – toilet brush, white
12. EXPEDIT – bookcase, black-brown – Some strong feelings about Expedit. I hated it in black, decided to tolerate it once painted white – and love it now it has organizers and drawers.
13. EXPEDIT drawer insert – 2 drawers, white
14. EXPEDIT shelf insert - Shelf insert
15. FÄRGRIK – 18-piece dinnerware set is a pretentious way of saying “bowls and plates”
16. FLÖRT – Box with lid – FLÖRT is the ugliest thing ever. It’s hidden away, used for immense CD storage. When the CDs go (soon, very soon), so too will FLÖRT.
17. FLYT – magazine file – death row for Paolo’s poncey magazines before I throw them away.
18. FROST – Drying rack  - very excellent & lives in secrecy under the couch.
19. GÅSER – Rug, high pile, beige – I walk in circles around this rug. It’s looovely, and extra squooshy for the laminate underlay we put underneath.
20. GROLAND – probably didn’t begin life in Sweden expecting to end up as a bathroom vanity.
21. GRUNDTAL – pot/utensil rails & hooks – filled up some big, blank walls & make emptying the dishwasher take half the time.

H, I, and K

22. HÅLLÖ- patio furniture seat pad, beige – the summer we had these was far preferable to the summer without.
23. HEMNES – 6-drawer chest, gray-brown for now – a big, meaty goodie who takes up half my bedroom but I don’t care.
24. IKEA 365+ – food saver/compost holder
25. IKEA STOCKHOLM BLAD – couch cushion, white, black
26. INGO dining table – he’s so little, and yet so useful. Far prefer him with shiny white legs.
27. INGOLF – kitchen stool. If we had the space, we’d have two. Any time we have a guest, they get their wine & gravitate here. It’s a nice spot for Office B, as well.
28. KARDEMUMMA plant pot – in every shape & size. All but two of our happy houseplants live within them.
29. KASSETT – CD box with lid, white
30. KASSETT – file box with lid

L through P

31. LACK – side table – I hate it but still need it.
32. LAGAN butcher block – someone told me it’s discontinued, & I’m really hoping it’s not true. Really like this butcher block.
33. LEDING – rack light with 3 spotlights (kitchen) – AND -
34. LEDING – track light with 5 spotlights (bedroom) – see both in our apartment’s before/after photos. I don’t love them, but they do the job.
35. LEKSVIK – 5x coat hook rack. So useful! Far prefer this to the laundry room’s previous closet rail.
36. LINGO – box with lid for paper… and sundry crap
37. LOCK – Ceiling light (laundry) – $4 & I’m not looking back.
38. PRUTA – food saver, set of 17 – enough of them to freeze our hefty garden harvest.

RRRRR….

39. RATIONELL – flatware tray basic unit (pretty good)
40. RATIONELL – Lid (not so good! falls off)
41. RATIONELL – Recycling bin (good for apartments! Handles!)
42. RATIONELL VARIERA drawer liner – transparent – I put it in the dishwasher, and it lived!
43. RATIONELL VARIERA box – kitchen bits & bobs holder (good for food processor attachments)
44. RETRÄTT – Knife block

S to V

45. SKUBB – box, black (clothes storage) – once filled and shoved up high in the closet, they’re too heavy for me to take down.
46. SKUBB – shoe boxes – good for things like hiking boots, otherwise too big for generic girl-shoes.
47. SKUBB – storage box, set of 6 – likes life in Hemnes very much.
48. SKUBB – storage case (winter clothes) – allows me to banish winter in the most satisfying of ways.
49. SOCKER – watering can
50. STOPP – anti-slip underlay
51. SVAJS – clothes cover
52. TEKLA – Tea-towel. 50 cents each? We’ll take a hundred.
53. VILDBÄR – Spray bottle – one for ironing, one for aphid annihilation.

(54-63) Products discontinued at Ikea including pillows, bedroom quilt, a side table, knives, forks, storage boxes, a floor cushion, a trivet and a hard-boiled egg slicer.

64. Oh, come on. Don’t these things rain from the skies?

So with that sick admission – I’m interested. Are we atypically attached to Ikea? Or are you just as dependent? What’s a healthy level of Ikea ownership? I think, this weekend, I’ll start looking for a life. (Does it come flat-packed?)

1. Different doors: Change the bathroom door into a pocket door. Fellow Vancouverite, Karen, promises it’s money well-spent – but it’s a job saved for next time – Tiny Ugly Bathroom II
2. More plants: Install an actual green wall (because there would magically be enough light & I’d magically have the patience for plumbing all those hidden hose pipes).
3. No tub: Ditch the bath for a glass shower stall.
4. More Ikea: In the kitchen – one of those Ikea Akurum tall cabinets – for vacuums and mops – somehow tucked in secrecy. (Had we added one this time, it would have eaten 15% of our kitchen renovation costs. Eee).

It’s a wish-list formed of self-serving brattery… but do any add value? #4 might – more storage – but #3 probably negates it. Apparently some people like to simmer in birthday suit stew….

I think I’m ready to move now… a list this short, it doesn’t seem right. What’s on your Not Gonna Happen list? Or – a bolder inquiry – what would you do to my apartment if money/science/neighbours weren’t in the way?

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Photo sources: pocket door, green wall, shower stall, & Ikea Akurum.

Attempt 1: I planted four in a nice, chunky planter. Forgot to mention this to Paolo. He later heads out to the balcony, all green-fingered, and plants lily bulbs in the same thing. We didn’t realize for months. If you remember our bathroom “after” photos, you’ve already guessed: the lilies won.

Attempt 2: Undeterred, I tried again with another pot. Things went well – too well – because one day I realized my potatoes were all leggy stem and little else. Here’s where I tried to tell nature where to shove it:

I pulled off all the side shoots and leaves from the 2-foot tall potato stems, and then rigged up this contraption. My hope? I’d trick the potato into growing roots where its leaves had once been. I knew at the time it was doomed but a stubborn “grow, damn it” streak can’t be stopped. While the top of the plant above the new soil line was very happy, nothing ever grew on those very long stems.

But it could have. Had I paid better attention and hilled them up slowly, correctly, I think our potatoes-from-a-pot harvest would have far surpassed this:

Do as I say – Successes & failures of pot-bound potatoes:

• Good: the cardboard pot-extending contraption worked perfectly – not a drop of soil escaped. (Use 3-4 shims shoved inside the pot & staple the cardboard to them). I later wrapped the outside in that black landscaping fabric & it blended right in with our normal pots.
• Bad: too greedy – I put 3 pieces of seed potato into this small pot. One would have been plenty.

Done properly, one small pot would have meant a summer-long supply of balcony-grown new potatoes. Hilled-up, I think the plant’s quite handsome – and very green. It added some nice height and lushness as it kept up with its neighbour: the lilies.

If I lived on the ground floor, I’d try growing them in garbage cans. Until then I’ll definitely repeat the process with pots – properly. Incidentally, our community plot potatoes were our most successful veggie last year – taking first place in our 2011 total garden harvest. Maybe greed’s a good thing?