some girls wander by mistake.

i've acquired a couple pieces of art over the past month or so, and i was waiting for the final one to be finished (by my birthday) before making this post.

i. indonesian fool mask, date unknown


after passing this store for years, i finally made it into cargo, i miscellany import store with art, jewelry, and house decor old & new. i hadn't really expected to buy much of anything (though i was tempted by a selection of mexican day of the dead dioramas, and other unique pieces of art. what i didn't expect is finding a wall of masks, and falling in love with one. i carried him around the store, trying to decipher whether i was drawn to him out of pity or revelry, good luck or a bad omen.

when i made it to the register to make my purchase, a graceful older woman explained to me that he was a fool mask from indonesia, but generally the mask worn by someone in a performance (or at a party) who is brought in for often a macabre element of comedic insight. i can't remember now how old she said the mask was, or if it was unknown.

ii. bicycle love, g. parks


i saw this print at PONY CLUB during first thursday, where i believe i took both verybadhorse and albertmae on their respective visits. i saw the print on the wall, and knew i Needed it (i mean, seriously. look at it.), but both days i wasn't able to transport the print home securely. walking around downtown on a hot summer day with m_peacecraft121, we passed PONY CLUB and i knew i had to make it happen.

iii. the city of lived dreams and the color purple, chris haberman


chris haberman, i love you.

this is the first commissioned piece of art i've ever purchased (and, quite honestly, save a few prints or hand-made postcards, i think this qualifies as my first piece of art ever). chris asked me a few basic questions as to what i wanted the picture to represent, and i told him i basically wanted something purple to hang over my faux fireplace. stating that he liked to treat his paintings as collages, chris asked a few more questions about my interests, and for a link to my photographs. i never saw a sketch, and this is what he came up with based on my picasa albums and what he learned from me in email. it is perhaps my favorite thing i've ever purchased, and every day i see something new in the painting that delights me. e.g., the 3 little faces in the bottom-left are my chihuahuas. all the cities i have seen, where all the people i love live. where i am from. what i love about this city. la plantation du paon, and even a mascot-worthy peacock. lovelovelove.

since it began on monday morning, my bathroom renovation is 90% done, which, if you're half-assed like i am, means it's DONE. for now.

the biggest obstacle was moving the antique cast-iron clawfoot tub. research on teh internetz gave me no real answer as to whether or not this was the craziest house project of the year, or totally par for the course. the linoleum floor was one of the first things i knew had to go; the clawfoot tub, on the other hand, was a selling point of buying la plantation in the first place.

getting the tub out was simply cumbersome and heavy. getting it back in: another story.

the demo and the tile itself was done by the contractor who did my checkerboard kitchen floor. i picked a vintage octagonal black and white mosaic tile. yesterday while the bathroom was still empty, i biked out and got m'self some paint, slapped on a couple coats, and did the grouting of the tile myself. there is something really...soothing? gratifying? about this kind of rote physical labor; it is the same satisfaction i used to experience mowing the lawns of my FL houses (the action, motion, motion, and patterns as the grass was cut) somehow blocked out the physical discomfort of the heat. yesterday, i didn't realize how hard on the body the painting and grouting really was, but today my muscles tell a different story.

putting the clawfoot tub back in the bathroom was tragic and stressful. things never go back as easily as they come out, this is a universal truth. the wrong angle, over and over again. the door frame. the sheer weight of it.

the feet fell off of the tub, only able to be clicked back into place as two bright red boys held 400+ lbs of awkwardly-shaped cast-iron, hovered above my outstretched limbs. setting the tub back, one foot kept constantly dislodging. then, a tile broke, causing the tub to sit unevenly. we wrecked a piece of plumbing, cracked another tile, and chipped the paint off the feet. we wore out our hands. i wasn't sure if it would ever go back to the way it was, but it did, and with a few final finesses and a shim, we were able to secure the tub in place. let me tell you: there was no greater reward than a long hot shower after 3 days without indoor plumbing.

it came on like a fever, and, before i knew it, i was taping baseboards and window ledges. my dining room is now purple--same shade as my art room/office and the bedroom--which was effectively a "free fix" to what was troubling me. and that room was depressing me: i found myself eating nearly every meal hovering over a kitchen counter-surface. we had dinner guests over last week, and, as the four of us sat there, i realized that i hated that room in all its starkness: white walls, sloppy paint job (previous owner), awkward use of space, abundance of windows. even with a new light fixture (chandelier), i never liked sitting in there.

initially, i had fantasized about going in a different direction in that space, but textured walls and difficult angles had me daunted. i've wallpapered before, and it ain't fun. i held onto the possibility of stubbornly doing it anyway, some winter weekend where i didn't want to go anywhere. but the more i thought about it (the expense, the risk of doing a bad job and my eyes always finding the imperfections), the more it seemed unlikely.

but now, i've just eaten breakfast in a room i can live with. because lesson 1 is: there's no such thing as too much purple. and lesson 2, i suppose, is: it doesn't always have to be perfect to be good.

my garden this year was rather disappointing. i did the "end of season" ritual of uprooting this weekend. there's only a few tomato plants left in pots (and some newer oregon sugar peas). i ate the first & only of my peppers this past week (two pepper plants--a yellow and a chocolate-black--i believe cross-pollenated, if that's possible?).


gardening in 1981.

oh but there is garlic. again.

i started composting. it's been pretty boring, but a good thing. the compost pile is, for now, in what i thought would be the chicken coop. i think come spring there's going to be some major renaissance in my backyard: i definitely need above-ground beds, and determine if the paon-yard has enough sun for the kind of vegetable gardening i desire. and i hope so, because really, i'll feel pretty stupid if i bought a house that can't support a decent-sized garden.

conquered at the new abode:

-unpacking and situating furniture. there's still boxes upon boxes (books and decor, mostly), but things are mostly functional now.
-commuting to work. includes a this beautiful view (this morning, greygreygrey; monday morning, clouds leaving shadows upon forest park across the river) on my bike.
-opening windows that had been painted (?) shut. almost all are functional now, which has been absolutely necessary in this heat (and conversely, during beautiful cool nights like last night).
-new locks.
-local eateries (sushi and thai; we're not counting getting-ice-cream-every-day-from-7-11 a "local eatery"). the two nearest restaurants are passable for sushi/thai fixes in a pinch, but are nothing amazing.
-(beginning to) landscape the backyard. i was going to let all this go until spring, seeing as my garden is all in pots and i have a thousand other things to do anyway, but yesterday's weather was astoundingly beautiful, so i started shoveling a path and making beds for a winter garden (!).
-tile. only i'm not doing this one: i found a pretty awesome contractor whom i've enjoyed having around the house. by next week, i'll be the owner of a black & white checkerboard tiled kitchen and dining room.

it is monday, july 27.

--

i turned thirty last week, and though it was far less of a bacchanal than i have orchestrated in previous years, it was perfectly suited to both my new decade of life (or: my twenties to a close) and current life-goings-ons. on the day preceding my birthday i took myself out for cajun lunch, spent over $20 without hesitation. the rest of the day i tinkered around my new house, painting things and lining cabinets with wallpaper, tracking the sun and determining where the garden (or at least, the pots) will go for optimal sunshine. at midnight, james and i continued a birthday photobooth tradition with a quick stop-off at the florida room. on the way there, i saw an adorably tiny tail-less mouse crossing the road.

i rewarded myself on my birthday-day to do no (new-house) projects. i worked from home; james took a half day to make my birthday cake (a different long standing tradition): a (from scratch) vanilla sugar/butter old fashioned cake with marshmallow fluff frosting, topped with marshmallows. later james, sara and i had thai dinner at my favorite place off alberta.

birthday "party" was to be a laid back evening of music at TIGA. leaving the house wearing a pretty dress and boots (the first time i've actually put effort into my appearance since the whole house business/summer business began), i spotted a bunny. then another. then...another. apparently a neighbor's bunny farm had gotten loose: they were blissful veggie-loving little fuzzy things, nibbling on leaves and sprawling out on the grass.

TIGA was nice and relaxing, though spatially not the best choice for a birthday gathering. the weather that night was perfectly slightly chilly, which is about the best gift this warm girl could ask for.

--

i have spent almost every day since the 17th painting and doing (moderately) physical labor. i've also skipped yoga classes for just about as long, which doesn't please me. my body aches every evening, and the relentless heat isn't making life any more comfortable.

to combat the discomfort, i've been:
-taking cold-water showers, kneeling down and letting the water cascade over my scalp, shoulders, back
-moving through a series of crocodile twist yoga poses and inversions

--

tomorrow is moving day.
tomorrow's high is supposed to be 101.
if there is time after the move, i'm busing out to some florida-esque shopping plaza and buying an A/C room unit.