Tag Archives: Mrs. B at Home

Welcome Home

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If one has been in a house two years is it still “new”? I keep referring to my house as “new” and wonder if it is because there are still so many things I see that need to be finished.  If not finished, then changed.  I had the ceiling fan removed from the living room (thank heavens), but have not stumbled upon the just-right-thing to replace it.  The dining room, too, still suffers the big-box fixture, the only advantage of which is that it turns on when we flip the switch.  That is its gravest fault as well. If I were stumbling around in the dark on my way to let the dogs out or unable to read the paper in the morning, I’m sure it would have had my attention before now.  Perhaps the key word for this year is “illumination.”

It will be the same here, I imagine.  Things seem to be running smoothly at .com and I cannot say I’m the least nostalgic for blogspot.  I do hope you feel the same.  Give me a shout if you’re having any trouble, otherwise we’ll continue down this winding path together.

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Selfie – Sort of

A few people posted and emailed to ask for a larger image of the screens, which, frankly is lovely.  But see what happens when I post “more?”  Sort of loses something, though it does look quite nice in person.  It’s the light, maybe, or as someone pointed out recently, the photographer.

It’s one eight-panel screen hand-painted over silver leaf, likely 1920’s.  

With some wear.  Like its mistress.

There’s a plan for some reupholstery as well. While this charming image of Pauline de Rothschild turned up on pinterest yesterday did not inspire it, it certainly could have.

Thank you, to those who asked, for your interest.

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Screen Time

It’s thirty-six degrees here and I am looking out my office windows at something dreadful called “wintery mix.” In Seussian fashion I don’t want to go out and I don’t want to stay in, have loads to do but don’t care to begin.  I keep jumping from one thing to the next, though nothing engages me.  The only solace is, as I walk back and forth to the kitchen (I convince myself that the twenty-five steps there and back negate the small square of dark chocolate with orange that I am going to fetch) is the new screens flanking the sofa.  I may need to take just one more pass.

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If One is Good, Two is Better

My plate was full-to-overflowing last week, though with all good things.  Even so, I had a horrible case of monkey mind which led to a very tight spine during the day and nearly no sleep at night.  I was working on an event held last Saturday and, a few weeks ago, in the midst of planning and picking up, I decided I needed new bracelets.  I had dodged the bullet of buying a dress and with this financial windfall (that was how I saw it at least) I thought I would treat myself to a pair of the Kenneth Jay Lane cuffs that I’d coveted for so long.  A pair.  Yes.  Two. More is more.

A quick internet search yielded, remarkably, a site with a pair in-stock with free two-day shipping.  Click, click, click.  Distracted, I realized Tuesday that they had not arrived.  Emails and increasingly frantic messages provided no satisfaction, though threats of internet retaliation finally did.  The seller did not, in fact, have the bracelets, nor did he know if he could get them. He was sorry.  It could take a while. Curious.

Curious and maddening, actually.  And, in a moment of brief outfit despair, I almost gave up, resigned myself to some other not yet found something that would “do.”  Almost.  Instead, I navigated ebay on my phone (a less user-friendly site cannot be found) and located two sellers who graciously accommodated my a) obsession and b) time frame.

The first arrived on Friday and I told myself all day that if the other did not make it one would be enough.  I was lying, of course.  One would not be enough.  The second appeared on my doorstep the next morning just as I was heading out to set up.

So, I wore them Saturday night and I’ve yet to put them away.  If someone tells you that she saw some crazy woman at the coffee shop wearing jeans and a t-shirt and two enameled and jeweled cuffs, I’m sure you’ll understand.

All this in an effort to thank the sellers, hotfindsnyc and msharley.  So grateful for your great service.

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#swag, #YOLO

The rattan valise or Chinese lunchbox or clearly most charming thing ever arrived last week.  It was the only item that I purchased on our vacation other than food and newspapers.  From a high shelf in one of my favorite shops, she winked at me and I did think we had a lot in common.  Bill and the boys agreed, “You have to get it,” they cheered.  So I did.

She arrived by post and the newly-teenaged middle boy had to wait while I rescued her from the box.

     “This is so silly.  I have no idea what I’m going to do with it,” I confessed as I pulled it from the popcorn.

     “Do you love it?” he asked.

     “I do,” I admitted, sliding the pin from the latch and opening it to peek inside.

     “Are you going to Instagram it?” he teased.  “Hash tag ‘swag,’ hash tag ‘YOLO’?”

     I looked up, “YOLO?”

     “Mom,” he rolled his eyes letting me know how truly hopeless I am, “You only live once.”

Indeed.

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