Bumping Into Buildings

Lest I give the false impression that October in the Pacific Northwest is all puppies, kittens, and glorious yellow leaves, let me share some photos I took around town this weekend.

Oh, sure. I know what you're thinking. Mhmmm. Foggy countryside. Not that interesting.

And I totally get where you're coming from.

But here's the thing. These photos were not taken out in the countryside. In fact, hiding in that fog is the biggest building in the world.

I'm not even kidding.

I live just a few miles from the Boeing Everett Factory, where the last few nuts and bolts on the world's biggest airplanes are put together. It is the world's biggest building, as measured by volume.

You could fit the entire Pentagon building inside the factory. 

Or Disneyland. With all of its parking lots.

Also, seventy-five regulation-size American football fields could fit into the building, and if a person was to watch games played concurrently on each one of those fields, it would feel a little bit like Saturdays at my house during college football season. 

But all of that enormous hulking monstrosity of a building, complete with its sprawling complex of auxiliary buildings, tour center, airfield, and endless parking lots lay completely and utterly hidden in the cool autumn fog.

That was some very thick fog.

As I drew up alongside the building, and the six massive doors came into sight, the fog lifted just enough to allow me to finally make out the bright blue graphics.

But only the first half. As I reached the far end of the building, the fog thickened again and the fifth and sixth doors receded into the murky mists of autumn.

And this, my friends, is proof positive of the super-powered fog that comes with the changing of the seasons up here in my neck of the woods. Y'all may have been tailgating in the sunshine this weekend, picking apples with adorable children in a picturesque orchard, or jumping in a pile of crispy leaves.

As for me, I'm just trying not to bump into buildings.

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More stories about marvelous, mysterious fog:

Fog And Roses

Mackinac Bridge

Heidi's Happy Photos

Bumping Into Buildings

Run With It

Mid-Century Hipster

My mom was a total 60s trend-setter.

She wasn't rich and she didn't live a sophisticated Mad Men existence, but she infused her home and daily life with the sleek modernist touches of what we now call mid-century style.

Danish furniture.

Eames-style dining chairs.

Walnut table lamps.

Hair pin leg dining table.

And this amazing pull-down chandelier.

^ Yes, that's me sucking my thumb and staring at the camera.

Anyway, yet another iconic item that I recall from my mom's home was the wooden bowl. Made of teak, we had a large salad bowl, individual serving bowls, and a few snazzy leaf-shaped numbers for serving nuts and the like.

Lately, those bowls have been on my mind. I've been seeing a lot of them at thrift stores, and thanks to this inspiration from Oh, Joy, I've been seized by a mad desire to color block them.

Mission accomplished.

Now I'm ready to fill one up with Spanish peanuts, uncork a bottle of Lancers, and listen to some of this. Thanks, Mom, for teaching me how to be a mid-century hipster.

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More stories about my mom:

Four Important Things About My Mother Bear

My Fashionista Mother

The Story Of The Stair Steps

November Rose

Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is

White And Clean

The Line-Up

When I first wake up in the mornings, this is what I see:

Well. This is what I see now. A few days ago, it was a whole 'nother story.

Because, you know, life happens. 

• Bowls that were once full of grapes - my favorite midnight snack - are cast aside on horizonal surfaces.
• Sweatshirts that were necessary at 4 a.m. but too much at 6 a.m. are tossed on the floor. 
• Books and magazines pile up in drifts, like fallen leaves.
• And speaking of natural debris, Ranger accidentally drags in bits of flora from his early morning trips to the backyard. 

And when I would peep open my eyes to start a new day, and take in this post-apocalyptic horror, I just wanted to roll over and sleep till noon.

But fear not. On the fateful morning in question, I bounded from my bed like the Tasmanian devil and jumped into action. Wasting no time, I busted out my never-fail, always-satisfying, three-point plan for rescuing a room in crisis.

1. Declutter aggressively.
Get rid of anything annoying. And I mean anything. Start with the obvious offenders, like clothes on the floor and dirty dishes, but I keep removing items until I feel Zen. If that means I end up taking art down off the walls and tossing all the knick-knacks into boxes for a one-way trip to the garage, so be it. Do whatever it takes to make the room feel calm. 

2. Clean enthusiastically
My weapon of choice against dust, dirt and grime is a damp fiber cloth. The end. Years of experience have taught me that it will wipe away any and all routine messes. If the crime scene is especially grievous - by which I mean pet-related - I put all my trust into Clorox wipes and my miraculous odor-eliminating vinegar spray bottle. 

Honestly, I usually complete Steps 1 and 2 concurrently, which is a nice way of saying that I run around like a crazy person, wiping and tossing and picking up and wiping some more. Rather than respecting these as two distinct processes, I declutter and clean in a hazy blur and that's how I like it.

But once the frenzy wears down, I'm ready for the last step:

3. Line stuff up.
Now, this suggestion may sound a little offbeat, but I vow that it works every time. Whatever I've decided to leave on display in the room...I just line it up.  

See the books on my bookshelves? I lined them up. 

Those four baskets could have been placed in any of the sixteen compartments of the bookcase, but I chose to line them up along the bottom row.

And blessed be these three little succulents living in their glossy white pots. They would look pretty darn cute in any arrangement, but I lined them up on top of the bookcase and I nearly fainted from the satisfaction of their tidiness.

Now don't get me wrong - a space that is clutter-free and clean is pretty darn good. But when I intentionally create an extra dimension of order and calm by lining some things up, the room goes from good to great.

And that is a lovely sight to see when I wake up in the morning.

P.S. A careful observer will notice that I don't line things up perfectly.  A few of the books on the shelves are kitty wampus, and the three white pots are not evenly spaced. Yeah. I do that on purpose, just to prove to myself that I'm not completely OCD. Not yet. 

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Succulent stories aplenty:

Bringing Home Baby

Spray Paint And Succulents

Super Succulents: In A Bowl

Super Succulents: A Happy Variety

Super Succulents: A Place To Heal

At The Watering Hole

We Got To Live Together

Squirrel Food

Maybe it's because I grew up in the woods.

Maybe it's my love of small, furry forest mammals.

Or quite possibly, I'm just weird.

But on sunny fall days such as this one, I often think about squirrels. This is a busy time of year for them, laying up the last provisions to guard against the long, cold days of winter. Hopefully, their little squirrel stashes of nuts and seeds are bursting with abundance, and they will eat like kings till spring.

And sometimes, all this thinking about my little forest friends leads me to want to eat like a squirrel. Which today led me to prepare this lunch:

roasted pistachio nuts

acorn squash

pear

This humble fare would probably seem like a royal feast to a proper squirrel, but to me, it's the perfect lunch for a lovely autumn afternoon.

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For more stories about my carb- and sugar-free eating adventures, read:

Blessed Sesame Crackers

Pizza Cravings
October Lunch
Lessons From A Lettuce Wrap
Better Than Cheerios
My Homemade Parmesan Chicken Nuggets
Soup Therapy: Beef Vegetable

Soup Therapy: Roasted Red Pepper and Tomato

A Mug Full Of Winter

Thank You Berry Much

Easy Dinners: The Frittata

A Storybook Salad

Smooth Operator

Fall, You Win Again

In the past day or so, I must say, my least favorite season has pulled out all the stops in a valiant effort to win my heart. 

^ Streams of popcorn clouds zoom across the sky above a row of brilliant trees. The low light of late afternoon sun set the scene aglow, and the effect was breathtaking.

^ A sweet little maple along my usual walking route. I can't decide which I love most - the vibrant yellow leaves or the spicy red stems. Either way, when lit by the late afternoon sun, the combination is dazzling.

^ My daily outing also takes me back among the high school athletic fields, and I often get a glimpse of the Knights' football practice, where boys are being made into men. Someday, I will record all their grunts and shouts and chanting...that definitely adds to the experience. 

^ In the front yard, my enormous red maple tree has already dropped all its leaves. I'll be enjoying these graceful and delicate bare branches till next April, when the first buds of a new season will burst open.

^ On a whim, I decided to gather a big handful of colorful leaves, each one from a different tree...

^ ...and then I laid them all out on the dining room table, arranging their colors and shapes into patterns, playing with them this way and that. This ombre configuration, which highlights the infinite variations of nature's paintbrush, was my favorite, hands down.

^ Even Ranger seems to be in the fall spirit, choosing to nap in a very uncharacteristic but appropriately colored place. His mahogany coat is always a perfect match to the autumn palette, and the fall-ish tones in this rug complemented him perfectly, filling my heart with seasonal spirit. 

Okay, fall, I admit it. I can't resist your brilliant colors, sparkling sunshine, and spirit of transformation. You win again. 

Two Is Better Than One

Two DIY concrete projects are better than one.

Two concrete initials are better than one. I made this D, and my second-born made herself an E. 

Two colors in an initial are better than one. The lighter color is the regular concrete; I added charcoal cement coloring to get the darker shade.

Two little cacti in yellow pots are better than one. Oops. The second guy didn't make the photo shoot. But, you know, he was right here, cheering on his twin.

And maybe two dated pop songs with relevant lyrics would be better than one, but I think it's about time I showed a little restraint. Enjoy!

We Got To Live Together

It takes all kinds to make the world go round.

Take me, for example. I'm the kind of person who sees a planter half full of cement, and says, Yes! That's amazing! I wanna make one of those!!

{By the way, Mandi Gubler of Vintage Revivals is the kind of person who thinks up the idea of filling a planter half full of cement. I admire her room designs and DIY projects, but mostly I read her blog because I love the way her incredibly creative and slightly wonky brain works.} 

My second-born, who appreciates interesting textures and quirky designs, is also the kind of person who can get on board with cement-filled plant containers. 

So yesterday, we grabbed our thrifted glass vases and our safety goggles, and mixed up a home brew of concrete. This was a deliciously messy and technically forgiving project, and we had a high old time out on the driveway, making it happen.

As soon as the concrete dried, we whisked our containers into the house and excitedly began to fill them with soil and cute little succulents.

At which time, my first-born and my husband finally got a good look at what we were creating.

I quickly learned something interesting. 

There are some kinds of people who do not get excited about putting cement into plant containers. 

There are, in fact, some kinds of people who see a plant container that is half-filled with cement, and say, But why? What's wrong with just plain soil-filled containers?

I also learned that it's hard to explain why cemented containers are preferable. If you can't see it for yourself, I'm not sure that I can help you. We will just have to live in the tension of that dichotomy.

* * * * 

What happened next is that I spluttered a few nonsensical phrases, gave up in exasperation and exchanged a glance with my second-born that essentially said, Some people just don't get it.

And I noticed that my first-born and my husband exchanged a glance of their own that said, Some people do very strange things. Then they went off to watch baseball, and left us to our happy project.

Which just goes to show that Sly & The Family Stone was right all along. There are indeed different strokes for different folks. And so on and so on and scooby dooby dooby.

But here's a little secret: I'm glad I'm one of the cement-filled planters type. Because I think they are darn cute. Thanks, Mandi!

* * * * *

Succulent stories aplenty:

Bringing Home Baby

Spray Paint And Succulents

Super Succulents: In A Bowl

Super Succulents: A Happy Variety

Super Succulents: A Place To Heal

At The Watering Hole

The Line-Up