Pancakes and French Fries

B is for Books

Jules — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 08:00:03 +0000

I went into a used bookstore the other day. Painted green floors, taxidermy, folk art, and books, of course, a million-trillion books all under the watchful eyes of two sisters with gray hair down their backs. It was incredible; bizarre in the best of ways.

I put enough change in the meter to last me twenty minutes and walked through a courtyard, under a yellow awning, and across a threshold into Diagon Alley. I immediately started scanning books, but it was the type of place where you tell the shopkeeper what you need and she scans the catalog she keeps only in her mind and says, “You’ll find Chekhov on the third aisle, bottom shelf, next to the book on how to make dim sum.”

As practical as I am, there is a large part of me that is mystical, prone to woo-woo. This store brought out the woo-woo. I don’t know if it was the sisters or the smell of yellowed paper or the large set of antlers with the scalp and skull still attached under which I stood transfixed for five minutes, but the place vibrated with energy. Even Nicholas must have felt it because after he finished playing with the blocks in a woven straw bucket he put them all away before he started in on the puzzles. My only explanation is that we were somewhere magical, because the muggle version of Nicholas can only be bribed or threatened into picking up toys.

I bought Mikey a $4 hardcover of Lemony Snicket’s A Series Unfortunate Events and walked out to the car to find the meter expired long ago. I didn’t get a ticket.

B is for Books is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

Updates to the Living Room

Jules — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 08:00:39 +0000

As more people hear about The William Morris Project (thank you to all who are spreading the word) I realized that the biggest mess around here is my blog! If someone were to stop by via link to one of my William Morris posts, their first thought would undoubtedly be, “Huh?” I have no explanation, no links to previous posts, and no way for regular readers to track what I’ve done.

Oops!

I’ve also done a few projects around the house and don’t have a picture to show for my work. Double oops!

Take the living room, for example.

A few weeks ago I uploaded these images to Craigslist because, as my list so clearly states, I wanted to sell the mid century china cabinet we used in the dining room. Except we moved it into the living room to break up the world largest expanse of blank wall. Likewise with the two framed photographs.

I moved the cabinet from the dining room to the living room and then straight out the door to strangers from Burbank. See how I did that without any photographic documentation?

We have rugs now, too. More things to mark off the list without documentation! I’ll talk about the large, beautiful flat-weave that I refused to settle on another day, but suffice to say we kicked it into gear when Mikey looked around the room after all the Christmas decorations were gone and said, “I’m sad. This house looks lonely and empty.”

A shot to the heart, but only more so because he was right. With just two chairs, a coffee table, and a sofa, voices echoed off the floors and walls. It looked like someone was moving in or moving out, but not living here. Enter the large rug. For our anniversary we bought a Koldby from IKEA.

People have strong opinions about cowhides. They either love them, hate them, or think they are trendy. I can see all viewpoints, but they remind me my childhood. Being from Argentina, they were ubiquitous in our home. My mom has three on the walls in her office alone. I do think it’s funny they are so popular now. Crazy, when I think of how many people in high school and college teased me about them.

For now, our living room looks like this.

I had plans to sell this other china cabinet on Craigslist, too, but once the mid century cabinet left, I knew I had to put something in its place, at least temporarily. It will be a while before we can afford to replace it, but right now I am debating between an upright piano (I played for 11 years) or a low sitting set of bookshelves with an assortment of family pictures on top. Similar to this, but not quite so cluttered.

On Sunday, after my solitary walk, I went home feeling inspired. I unloaded the IKEA china cabinet and put everything on the dining room table. (Picture it, because I forgot to take a picture.) Then, the Mister and I moved the cabinet to its placeholder position and I spent the better part of an hour fiddle-faddling with the contents.

The bucket of white flowers is 12 years old. The vase and obscenely large candle stick (I mean, really) is around 7 years old.

Not willing to spend one red cent but aware of the decorating lesson I had just learned, I went around the house and tried to find accessories, which I generally loathe. Don’t get me wrong, I like accessories and think they make a house look homey. I just find most of them are insincere or staged for me. It’s a bit like wearing red lipstick. It looks good on everyone else, but when I do it I feel like I’m playing in my mom’s makeup drawer.

Basically, the story we have here is of a woman who was once timid, but now isn’t. She was once rushed, looking to make things work, but is now willing to wait until she finds just the right thingamabob to pretty up the coffee table. (Most likely books, rocks, and plants or a terrarium.) Also, she lives with people with severe allergies and is still looking for a candle that won’t make someone sneeze or get itchy, runny eyes. The odds aren’t looking good.

I have such plans for that large corner in the window. I see a round library or tea table stacked with books, plants, a vintage bust (I’ve always wanted one!), or even a globe. I thought this globe was snazzy, and didn’t even balk at the price. This project taught me to buy for life, and therefore prices aren’t as intimidating anymore. Only cheaply made, disposable items should have a too good to be true price, and that’s because you need to account for buying items two and three times over before you learn your lesson. If I loved it enough to buy it, I would save my money, sell items I don’t love or need, and wait until I could afford the darn globe. If it’s gone by the time I can buy it, it wasn’t meant to be. That’s neither here nor there, unfortunately, because I think the globe is too big. I would need something more petite for the size table I can fit in that corner. That’s okay–that gives me more room for a freaky bust!

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This post was part of The William Morris Project, a weekly series that details the steps I am taking to create an intentional home. You can see more of my goals and completed projects here. To learn more about this project, start here.

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Now it’s your turn! Feel free to share how you have lived according to the William Morris quote, “Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.” Made a plan? Cleaned a drawer? Bought a sofa? Let’s hear it with a link or in the comments.

A few guidelines:

Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
No links to giveaways, please.
A link back to this site is always appreciated. There are buttons to add to your post or sidebar, too, thanks to the lovely Alex, of Type A Calligraphy. Just copy the code and insert into your blog post or sidebar while in html mode.
Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.

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Updates to the Living Room is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

A is for Aesop, Anderson

Jules — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 18:53:58 +0000

My parents–my mom, really–bought several leather-bound book collections when my brothers and I were little. I think it was called the World’s 100 Classics or something, and every month we would get a new book. I loved the crackle noise the spines made and the way the gilt pages felt like glass. One summer I was actually old enough to read a few of the books. I read them in my mom’s leather wing chair because I thought it made me look all the more important.

My mom still has that wing chair. Same chair, same dark brown leather(ish) upholstery, in the same spot in her office twenty-eight years later.

Since that summer, I’ve wanted my own collection. I’m moving at a much slower pace. I have these four, a not nearly as sophisticated Chronicles of Narnia edition from Barnes and Noble, and Dicken’s A Christmas Carol, which was a birthday gift from my mom this year. I told her I would love a leather or cloth bound book for my birthday every year. She thought that was a great idea. For some reason, she’s really big on giving the same or similar gift every year. She finds traditions in the strangest places.

A is for Aesop, Anderson is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

Rules of Civility: Giveaway!

Jules — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 16:27:10 +0000

I bought my book last week, but I’m buying every book the Phenomenally Indecisive Book Club reads because I am a sentimental fool. Some of you, though, are still on the waiting list for your library’s copy–even the electronic versions! Melanie noticed the same thing in the comments yesterday and offered to give away two copies of Rules of Civility to those who still need a copy.

I don’t know how many of you know Melanie, but you will be hard-pressed to find someone who reads more than she does across all genres. Because of her lighting fast reading, publishers like her. A lot. So she gets to read books. A lot of books. (I’m insanely jealous!) Check out her Good Reads shelf. It’s ridiculous. She reviews them all on her blog and frequently does giveaways, like today.

Melanie has been working quite hard behind the scenes telling her contacts about our club. This should help people who are overseas, on tight budgets, or have libraries with mediocre fiction shelves–like mine. Gardening fan? Visit any of the Inland Empire libraries for your pick of tomes. We’re big gardeners here. Fiction fan? Put your name on the list and in three years you might have a chance at 1 of 3 copies of the latest bestseller.

Melanie is giving away two copies–of course she’s already read the book–to anyone who still needs a copy. Since time is of the essence, I’ll close this giveaway tomorrow evening (5pm, PST) and pick two winners using the random number generator. Melanie will ship the book to the winners.

Thank you, Melanie, for doing this for us!

Some rules:

One entry per person.
To enter leave a comment.
Only U.S. residents 18 and up.

Rules of Civility: Giveaway! is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

The Phenomenally Indecisive Book Club Starts Tomorrow!

Jules — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 08:00:00 +0000

What does that mean? Absolutely nothing! (If you have the book and are ready to go. Otherwise, chop-chop!)

February Book Pick: Rules of Civility by Amor Towles

Read by: February 29, 2012

That’s it. This book club is going to be fun, no-stress, and, hopefully, something that exposes us at least once to a book we would normally not read. Other than that, I don’t have many concrete goals. I love books and want an excuse to gush about what I’ve read on a regular basis with people who have read the same book. That sums up the mission of our club.

Now, some answers to a few frequently asked questions.

Is it too late to join?
Never.
How do I join?
You don’t. This isn’t a traditional book club, at least not yet. For now, all you need to do to consider yourself a member is to read the monthly pick. Participation in the discussion would be great, but I know what it’s like to be shy. Think about it. The majority of us don’t know what we’re doing, either.
By when do I need to finish the book?
We’ll be discussing Rules of Civility, at the very latest, on Wednesday, February 29, 2012. Some members of the book club have already finished the book. From what I hear, it goes by fast and is an easy, enjoyable read. Inspiring, too.
Are there discussion questions we should keep in mind?
Sort of. Amor Towles, the author of Rules of Civility, created a discussion guide with the members of his own book club. This is what I plan to use. I have only skimmed it because it, at quick glance, appears to have mild to moderate spoilers. I don’t do spoilers, but if you do, go for it.

Now, I have two questions of my own.

How often do you want to meet and discuss the book?
Option One: We can meet and discuss twice per month. The first meeting would occur in the middle of the month and discuss the first half of the book. The second meeting would occur at the end of the month and discuss the book in its entirety.
Option Two: We can meet and discuss the book in its entirety once per month at the end of the month.
Note: All dates will fall M-F so we don’t eat up weekend time.
Where do you want to meet and discuss the book?
Option A: Right here, in the comments section like we discuss everything else.
Option B: On the P&FF Facebook page.
Option C: Twitter, with hash-tags so that anyone can follow along.
Option D: Google+ has a chat room thing I know nothing about, but it’s been recommended.
Option E: A private forum, set up here.

Okay, that’s it. Are you ready? Excited? I have to say, I’m really nervous! I’ve never done anything like this, and I don’t want it to suck. I really want everyone to enjoy themselves. Fingers crossed…

The Phenomenally Indecisive Book Club Starts Tomorrow! is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

Vignettes

Jules — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 08:00:30 +0000

Late Sunday morning was so nice. I had to run an errand, and though it would take me nowhere near our downtown, I asked the Mister if he would mind if I left him with the (sick) boys while I walked around and looked at antiques. He just rolled his eyes and said, “Please. You don’t have to ask. Go and have fun. Just don’t do anything crazy, like shabby chic.”

I pointed out that I don’t like shabby chic interiors so it wasn’t a risk. He then claimed I once sent him an email with a picture of a thrifted dresser spray-painted and made to look “chippy.” Men remember the oddest things. “Don’t forget to buy blue cheese” goes in one ear and out the other, but an email from several years ago about a white dresser? That gets burned into the brain.

I walked around all my favorite shops–not one carrying Rachel Ashwell–and had such a wonderful time by myself. I’m normally with the boys, or on rare occasions, friends. It can be hard to shop with children, of course, but the same can be said of shopping with friends. It was nice to linger at my own pace, speaking to no one, and hover over displays I loved without worrying about dawdling or keeping someone else entertained.

When I went to Campy Mighty, Nicole and I later went shopping on the furniture strip in Palm Springs. We went into one store that had the most amazing candle burning. I would have bought one, but the store that carried them was closed on Sundays. I haven’t been able to find a candle I like as much since, though a part of me worries that the memory of this candle exceeds the reality. I was pretty excited about the Flora Exotica candle, above, with its alluring packaging of black and gold and floral, but no. It’s scent is primarily honeysuckle, a smell I loathe. And so the memory of the Palm Springs candle glows brightly. To my husband: the only way I could have been less subtle is if I had I printed out this post, wrapped it around an anvil, and dropped it on your head from a second story window. Mother’s Day is in May.

The takeaway from my window shopping, aside from honeysuckle and lilac remaining my least favorite scents, is that our home lacks vignetting. You walk into some of these stores, and you are pulled in by the most interesting displays. They unfold as if the store houses characters in a book. In this corner lives Ruth, who likes to read cookbooks in bed, prefers her hand soap to smell like rosemary, and collects crockery–always in cream. Magda is agnostic but adores religious folk art, Santos dolls, and lights a Saint Jude veladora before her weekend meditations because (1) it reminds her of her grandmother and (2) sometimes she feels her love life is a bit of a desperate case. Across the aisle stands Jane. She likes bright, pure colors (all of them), cooks semi-homemade, and throws the best parties because she never tries to make everything perfect.

It hit me, in that big store full of characters I would like to meet, that decorating is just another form of storytelling.

Vignettes is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

Unstyled Life

Jules — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 08:00:20 +0000

I’m going to try and return the Unstyled Life posts to the format I originally intended: unstyled images of beauty around the house and home with little accompanying text. It started as a way for me to not fret so much about the “work in progress” status of our home. Over time, the posts morphed into essays on life, both serious and frivolous. I will continue to write, I couldn’t possibly stop if I tried, but I won’t do it on Fridays. Right now, my heart says I am pushing myself too hard. Not the way professional working mothers must push themselves, since I bring it on myself as my own commandante. I don’t pretend to shoulder your demands, but I feel a hard shove from behind nonetheless. My hat’s off to you. I need to slow down and think and hear and see without attaching to it a to-do list. I’m doing a wonderful job at creating an intentional home. Now I need to be a little more intentional about how I live within those walls. It is possible to drown in a glass of water.

Yes, that is the new table. I took this from the sofa while I gave Mikey a practice spelling test. I thought the light was pretty, and it was only after I took the picture that I noticed I never put the candlestick back after lunch or shelved my 30 year-old copy of Jane Eyre after finding it the laundry room. I didn’t feel bad about it, either. I closed my eyes and dozed instead, for just a few minutes, before I got up to make dinner.

Unstyled Life is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

Too Much Storage

Jules — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 08:00:53 +0000

A welcome effect of living by the William Morris quote and creating an intentional home is that eventually you reach a point where you have too much storage. I know, crazy-talk, but unless you live in a home without closets, it is possible. Possible with sweat equity and capital, but possible nonetheless.

Take the Leksvik, for example. We kept this in our dining room to store many things. Last week we finally bought a dining room table (hurray!) and that meant there was no longer room for what officially became the clutter-catcher. No matter, since I already had it placed on Craigslist. I knew by looking through its cluttered glass doors that whatever it contained I could keep more organized somewhere else. I moved it to the back porch and hoped for the best. As luck would have it, someone offered to buy Leksvik only two days later. SOLD!

They gave me two hours notice on the coldest, windiest day of the season, but beggars can’t be choosers. I thought I could tackle the Great-Clutter Catcher Purge of 2012! before they arrived, but it was so cold and windy I was afraid all the loose photographs and paper would go flying.

Also, I didn’t feel like it. It looked like a lot of work.

I put everything inside an old laundry basket and placed it in the living room. Then I wiped everything down and gave Leksvik a quick polish. You so want to buy furniture off me on Craigslist. I pretty them up like they’re on their way to their first day of school.

The laundry basket of clutter stayed in my living room for only 24 hours before I sat down to toss/donate/keep.

[Pause. Wait for applause.]

I separated everything into groups, too. Both cookbooks went into a kitchen pile. I had an unusual amount of Christmas items, so those went into a pile, too.

Oddly enough, this introverted recluse who hates to socialize owns an obscene amount of party supplies. I like the idea of parties, or so it would seem.

That’s it! It took me less than an hour to place everything (haphazardly) in their new homes. This was good. I planned to tackle my wrapping paper storage issues, so I’m glad I was able to first uncover the last of the hidden supplies.

I can’t end the post with such a mediocre image, so I thought I’d share something else I found during the Great Clutter-Catcher Purge of 2012!

It’s a picture of the Mister when he was Nicholas’s age. I can really see the resemblance. People often say Nicholas looks like me, but I’ve never seen it. I’ve always thought he looks just like my husband.

A few guidelines:

Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
No links to giveaways, please.
A link back to this site is always appreciated. There are buttons to add to your post or sidebar, too, thanks to the lovely Alex, of Type A Calligraphy. Just copy the code and insert into your blog post or sidebar while in html mode.
Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.

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Too Much Storage is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

It was Tuesday

Jules — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 08:00:33 +0000

I woke up early but had breakfast late. Later, I ran a quick errand.We read Rikki Tikki Tavi, Too Many Toys, and a two year old Spider-Man book from dollar spot at Target.

We ate lunch. I had kale and chicken, leftovers. He nibbled at his sandwich and fruit, congested and uninterested. I anticipated this and only gave him half portions. I’m glad; I hate wasting food.

On the way home from school, Mikey asked if I knew the proper way to kill a vampire. That’s the game they were playing at recess and he wanted to make sure he had all his weaponry straight. I told him there is nothing wrong with kickball.

He did homework, I sold a buffet we had in the dining room. A couple from Craigslist promised to come over and they did. I’m close to getting that china cabinet I’ve had my eye on. I’m excited.

We had tofu fajitas for dinner. Mikey continued his campaign against the lowly soybean. Nico made up for his missed lunch. It was delicious, even for Mikey. He stuffed two corn tortillas to overflowing with peppers, onions, and guacamole, then ate more without a tortilla. Nico did the same, with the addition of tofu.

At 7:30 it felt like 10:30. I decided to read this book before Rules of Civility. I considered it for book club, but thought it was one most have already read.

It was a quiet day, one spent looking at the clouds. Bright and white and cold. It was nice. It was Tuesday.

It was Tuesday is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries

Gentle Giant Octopus

Jules — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 08:00:57 +0000

A good book makes me think, learn, or research. That goes for any genre, any age group. Of course, I’ve loved books that have done none of the three for me. But, I’m not talking about those today. Today I’m talking about Gentle Giant Octopus. I’ve been thinking about these creatures ever since. I’m hoping this random post will finally get them out of my system.

I bought this book for Nicholas last year. He was obsessed with sea creatures, and I thought the nonfiction book about an octopus would be someone he liked. Oddly, it wasn’t until recently, when he was sick, that we decided to sit down and read about giant octopuses. Octopi. Octopodes. (More on that, later.)

Although the story is nonfiction, it’s written in story form. Nicholas and I followed the life of a mama octopus jetting through the shadows, huge like a spaceship. First fact I enjoyed and filed away in my extensive file of useless information: the tentacles of the largest giant octopus ever found were a heart stopping 15¾ feet long. I will never step foot in the ocean again.

The watercolor illustrations by Mike Bostock are incredible.

We learned how the mama octopus moves, feels, and protects herself.

But under a boulder, a Wolf eel is waiting. His mottled gray face darts from the shadows. His teeth strike like daggers. He rips off a tentacle. Then sinks like a nightmare deep into his den.

Not to be outdone by a Giant octopus, Nicholas’s eyes opened to 16¼ feet in diameter. Nightmare, indeed.

This is my favorite illustration of the book. The mama octopus finds an easily guarded cave she can squeeze into and uses her tentacles to pull in pebbles all around her. Once inside, she lays her eggs, which hang from the roof of the cave like grapes on a string. She lays as many as 60,000 tiny eggs! As you can imagine, no sooner did we finish the last page, I was off and googling Giant octopus eggs. Amazing.

This is Nicholas’s favorite illustration. The eggs grow for five months, and during that time the mama octopus never eats and never rests. She’s essentially the Italian/Latin mother of my childhood, but without the guilt trips and high-pitched screams to clean my room.

No, mama octopus doesn’t do guilt trips. She takes it to the next level and dies.

A mother Giant octopus rests in her cave den. She watches her babies swim up through the water. A gentle Giant octopus shrinks into the shadows. Her life is over as their lives begin.

Well played, mama octopus. Well played.

As for those baby octopuses, they get their own. Only two or three out of 60,000 will live to become adults.

Which brings me my first act of google after we finished reading the book. Octopuses? Octopi? Octopodes? I thought it was octopi, but the book said octopuses. So confused!

I love learning something new.

Gentle Giant Octopus is a post from: Pancakes and French Fries