Painter's Tape and A Little Bit of Psychosis

I promise there is a deep and provocative blog entry brewing within me, and I will write it soon, but not today.  I simply don't have the mental organization to pull it off.

So, I'll share another of my recent OCD projects...
The staircase!


Our staircase was beaten up and painted white (at some point long, long ago).  Now, I like white railing very much in the right setting, but these stairs are in a vaulted stark-white entryway, leaving the railing virtually invisible.












After a lot of playing with colors, I changed all that.

In general, when I paint I like to free-hand all of my trim.  I learned years ago that using painter's tape just takes a lot of extra time and the edge never looks as clean.  However, when I'm painting in tough corners, or in patterns which require meticulous lines (like stripes on a wall), I reluctantly pull out the blue rolls of sin. It's a love/hate thing.  It seems no matter how careful I am, when I go to pull the tape off, I find drips and bleeds.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  

This is an OCD nightmare.  Especially if I've mixed my own colors, as I did here, and have limited quantity of paint for touch-ups.  I hover over these lines for hours with my magnifying glass and that familiar lump of anxiety in my chest.  But, eventually, I remember that sometimes you just have to step away from the project and take your little blue pills.


In the end, I make my peace with the madness,
and it all works out...

And, just in time for fall!

Pregnant Ramblings

I've been in project mode lately.  It's my attempt to fight off the panic of being unprepared for the Biscuit to arrive.  Every project I complete gives me a small sense of peace, until my brain starts listing all of the, as yet un-done, details.  This is what happens when OCD meets Third Trimester.  Suddenly, the lack of Desitin seems dire.


Add to the above, Pregnant Brain.  This is the state of dementia which sets in with the implantation of the egg and persists until... well, I'll let you know.  Forgetfulness is a big symptom, as is word loss.  Word loss really sucks when trying to execute a witty comeback only to deliver some version of awkward.  I find myself wanting to explain that I really am intelligent... Really!


Throw in a few thousand hormones, a divorce, three adolescents and an economic crisis, and we have a big soup of WTF!?!


When attempting my projects, I frequently have to institute a plan 'B' (C,D,E..) because 'A' didn't quite work out.  Admittedly, I'm not real big on patterns or manuals.  I drift when reading them, wanting to skip to the end, past all the slow, redundant explanations.  Hence my "trial by error" ways.  I learn by doing... and then doing again.  Mom says she could never teach me anything as a child.  My first sentence was, "do it MYSELF!"  


Obviously, there are pitfalls to this tendency.  It can set a project back, or change its course entirely.  It can be exhausting and frustrating.  But, I do learn.  I solve.  I innovate.  


Finding plans B or C in the project of my life is much more intimidating.  My attempts to solve and innovate become very clouded by the above-mentioned dementia soup, as well as by the noise.  


I sometimes find it difficult to distinguish my own voice from those of my contributors/critics.  My need for approval and acceptance can smother my clarity.  Please understand, I need and seek the input of others.  It is vital and appreciated. But, I have found this to be true: Pushing through that noise to find confidence in my own conclusions and actions, is ultimately where I find the most peace.

Reflecting on Lake Tahoe

The Keeping of Stuff

Laundry/Creative storage Room

Every square inch is functional

Jars are a fabulous resource

Biscuit's/My closet & office storage

Baskets provide the illusion of order

Traditional storage of grandmother's china

Hooked; Midnight Musings

I have a tiny bathroom.  In my bathroom, I have one functional wall for hanging towels.  The owners of this home decided to equip this wall with some very respectable towel rods;  enough to hang two towels if you actually want them to dry.  

Rods are fine and they are also the accepted norm.  I have issue with them, however.  I believe, in most realistic circumstances, they fail their purpose.  They require people to neatly fold and then slide their towels between the wall and rod, being careful to avoid bunching.  


I hypothesize that most people do not do this.  My experience has been that, in general, the majority of the household performs some version of the above towel hanging procedure (on a good day), but only one member of the household actually follows through completely.  This renders said member very frustrated with the picking up of the mildewing, casualties of a failed system, and the delinquent members weary of the inevitable lectures which follow.


Now, I do not claim to have the perfect solution to this epidemic, but I have found a slightly better way.  Hooks.  I know you were hoping for something a little more ingenious, but it's midnight and hooks are all I've got.


Hooks are easy to use, allow for adequate ventilation of the towel, and, because of the elimination of the folding, tend to look nice.  The ease of use is HUGE.  It produces a much higher probability that the towels will be hung.  Everyone's life is easier.

But, I digress.

My original point was that my tiny bathroom came with rods but I prefer hooks.  Since I'm renting, I don't want to remove the rods to install hooks, so I designed a solution...

I used fabric scraps and utility hooks to transform a rod into a useful fixture!

Now, on the days that my kids actually manage to get their towels to the bathroom, the towels might actually be hung as opposed to wadded in heaps, or flung over the shower door.

** You can check out more of my nest (and insanity) by clicking the page link 'Belmont Cottage' at the top of the blog**

Lessons from a Siamese

When I was a child, my father had a cat named Entropy. It was my first living example of true mayhem. Entropy used to leap into the air, without notice, and perform great feats of acrobatics. In a quiet room, he would appear from out of nowhere, sweep all papers and books off of their flat surfaces, fling the aluminum blinds, shred the carpet, and then disappear, again, without notice.

I have always been one who likes a certain amount of order. My clothes hang in my closet coordinated by color and type. I like spaces free of clutter and soothing to the soul. And, I like plans. Study plans, furniture layout plans, plans for when I would marry, have babies, buy groceries...

Those who know me well, know the irony of my OCD nature in relation to the life I have lived.

Life is Entropy. At least my life has been up to this point. My constant challenge has been to create myself and find the beauty in the mess of it all. It is uncomfortable. It frustrates me almost daily. And, in the end, it provides the materials for the most incredible work of art.