Mudroom Saga: Flooring

The other morning, my husband and I got our weekly mochas and lattes to go and strode over to the large home improvement store across the street.  I was brimming with enthusiasm and ideas. 

I like color.  Perhaps something with slight color variations . . . something subtle.  Earth tones.  Or not.  Checkerboard?  Oh, I've always wanted a checkerboard floor . . . not black and white; no, something perkier . . . red and white?  Red and gray?  Pink and yellow?  Okay, no . . . that won't be marketable, and we plan to probably sell this house someday.  Okay, back to something mainstream.  But with some color.  Something with a little personality.  Not the plain beige stuff easily found in all fast food joints and grocery store dairy sections.   

We arrived in the flooring department to find that all the ceramic tile looked almost exactly the same and, yep, much like the stuff I step on when selecting a jug of milk.  Well, okay, I'm not being fair.  You can choose lightish or darkish.  But otherwise, it's all pretty much the same. 

I made this observation as an indictment of the entire selection and was moving the argument in the direction of going to a dedicated flooring store.  Before I could make my considered conclusion known to my husband, he seized upon my proclamation that all the tiles look the same and cut in front of me with his conclusion instead:  If they all look the same, clearly we should buy this close-out stuff in the corner that is about a third of the price of any other tile offered.  Hmmm.  Not the direction I was heading.  Hard to really refute, based upon the premise I had set down.

It does all look the same, as I had just carelessly announced.

It is neutral, which is what we really should put in.

It is alarmingly affordable, another handy fact since we plan to spend most of the budget on the storage system.

And it is only the mudroom.  No one goes in there but the regular inhabitants of this house.  It need not "say" anything about us or our tastes or preferences.  It need only stay put, look clean, and not detract market value from our house.  Even this dairy-section selection would be a vast improvement over the stained, peeling, dingy 30 year old linoleum in there now.

Backed into a logical corner, I had to counter . . . "But still."

In an effort to diffuse the situation,stall for time, and avoid getting dairy tile, I sent my husband on to work while I rocketed around town looking at storage systems.  Surely, one would select the storage system first, so many options in lovely faux-but-still-expensive veneer . . . cherry?  maple?  pine?  white?  silverrrrrr?  Then we'll select the flooring to coordinate.


Yeah, that sounds like a plan. . .

Bringing Order to Our Lives . . . Through the Mudroom

If you have a front hall closet in your home, I want you to take a minute and think of it fondly.  No matter its current condition.  No matter how over-stuffed or packed or messy it is.  Just think of all it holds and how it serves you.  Perhaps consider doing something nice for it today . . . a lovely doorknob adornment, a scented sachet, maybe just a little nod of appreciation in its general direction. 

We live in a colonial home that looks much like this.

If you've never lived in this kind of home, you might not know that closets are an issue with some of these homes.  It depends upon the layout, but it is not uncommon for these homes to have no front hall closet.  That is, no place to hang coats for front door entrants.  No place for their shoes, or schoolbags, or hats, or mittens, or umbrellas, or anything else.

In fact, it is a startling fact that our entire first floor contains exactly no closets.  None.  Really.  There are kitchen cabinets.  A shelved pantry.  An under-the-sink vanity in the powder room.  And that's it.

But we do have a mudroom.  So think about this:  a mudroom and no other closets.  Get the picture?  This poor little aisle of a room serves as surrogate front hall closet, utility closet, and more.  Its duties include:


1.  Keeper of all coats, jackets, and miscellaneous outerwear
2.  Storer of all shoes and boots, sandals, and rain gear.
3.  Keeper of all telephone directories, maps, atlases, etc.
4.  Storer of craft supplies and all extra paper.
5.  Faithful keeper of school supplies and overflow coloring books.
6.  Home of both vacuum cleaners and all mops and brooms
7.  Overflow pantry
9.  Veritable catch-all for things that should be in a closet somewhere.
AND
10. Laundry room.  That's right, all laundry is delivered, sorted, cleaned, dried, ironed (if needed), folded, and packed for return to the user, in this room as well.

Therefore, the project for this winter is the mudroom.  I would show you a picture of its current condition, but then none of you would ever return.  I will show "before" pictures only once I have the "after" pictures to resurrect myself. 

Being that this room measures only 8 ft by 15 ft and includes three doors and a washer and dryer, this room is beyond challenging.  However, my husband and I both believe it to be the key to all the organizational challenges, shortcomings, and woes of, not only the first floor, but our entire lives as well.  Therefore, the mudroom must be made more efficient and functional.  Immediately.

We have begun by discussing flooring options.  He has his ideas.  I have mine.  Let me put it this way, there is a lot to discuss.

I'll keep you posted.

(Should I suddenly become unaccounted for, please check my mudroom first, then make a few calls to the nearest flooring stores, and then, well, stay calm and call for help.) 

Does It Take . . . George Clooney?

The earthquake in Haiti is one of the deadliest and most tragic natural disasters in human history.  The images and first-hand accounts from the decimated country are heart-rending.  The suffering must be beyond my conscious measure, because, try as I might, I cannot truly imagine the sights, sounds, fear, and pain wrought over the people of Haiti and those there in their service.

We have all been wracked the question:  What can I do?  What in this world of mine can I do or give to help in any even small way?  My husband and I thought and prayed and pondered.  And responded thoughtfully and compassionately.  We're not special.  That's what people do.  No one has to beg us.  It is within us.  Ourselves.       

 

 

 APP/Getty Image

So when I heard about yet another celeb-a-thon, this one to implore us to contribute for relief in Haiti, I reacted with incredulity, a mental eye roll, and a heavy sigh.  More lectures from the famous.  I was disgusted by the arrogance of George Clooney, and all his celeb pals, for believing that it would take face time with them to move us to act.  I think we all -- yes, even the non-famous people -- have hearts and consciences and brains, and have thoughtfully considered if and what to contribute to Haiti at this time.     

I was insulted for myself as well as for society as a whole.  We don't need a multi-millionaire movie star, oh-by-the-way with a movie out, to coax us into caring about our fellow man.  Do we really need a simplistic, "Give . . . all you can," to prompt us?  I boycotted the celeb-a-thon.  I had done what I thought best days ago.  And I was sure my fellow man had as well.

But the celeb-a-thon grossed $58 million dollars.

And now I don't know what to think.

 

Come Take a Magic Carpet Ride

Don't you think the world gets to feeling quite large and quite cold and quite lonely sometimes?  I sure do.  But, quite by accident, I came upon a wonderful antidote to that feeling this morning.

Lisa, A Whimsical Bohemian, artist, storyteller, and dreamer is the founder of One World, One Heart (OWOH).  OWOH begins today.  It is an annual event, now in its 4th year, wherein bloggers around the world mix and mingle and perhaps make a few new friends in corners yet unseen by them.  Such an inspiring concept.

I am very excited to participate in this worldwide blog-block party.  Beginning today, my door is open to guests far-flung geographically, philosophically, demographically, and even artistically.  I warmly invite you to come in, make yourself comfortable, and have a look around.  Visit.  Being the hostess, it is only customary I offer you some comfort or refreshment.  In that tradition, I offer you something made by my hand and with my heart.

I am a knitter, and I enjoy using luxury yarns when I can.  I recently knit this scarf for its luxurious softness and beautiful sheen.

This particular scarf now belongs to someone, but I will happily knit another for a new guest.  It may be a different color (depends on what looks good at my yarn shop), but it will be just as luxurious and wonderful.  (By the way, should a gentleman win, I will gladly reincarnate the scarf into a more masculine stitch, if you prefer.)  

Now, the way you become eligible to win this scarf is simple:

1.)  Visit this post --

2.)  Comment on this post BY Saturday, February 13, 2010, midnight EST -- so I know you came.  Make sure you comment in such a way that I can find my way to contacting you if you win.

That's all.  After all, you are my guest and it is my pleasure that you visited.  The winner will be chosen by random and announced on February 15, 2010. 

I do so appreciate you coming by and sincerely hope you will enjoy my humble blog.  It is a work in progress in many ways, but it is work from my heart as I try to recover that critical creative part of myself that had been left to slumber while my babies were babies. 

Should you wish to participate in this wondrous worldwide block party, stop in at Lisa's blog for all the details. 

Cars In The Pink!

Do any of you own a pink car?

I would LOVE a pink car.

Whaddya say we go for a ride and do some window shopping?  Hop in and away we go!

Now, nothing too over-the-top . . .

Or topless . . .

(My hair, ya know . . .)

This might be too hot . . .

This is probably too young . . .

This might be too old . . .

This has been done . . .

(Though, if I could get my hands on this car in this condition now, it would be a done deal!)

And this is just not done . . .

Hmmm, I'm feeling a little "Goldilocks" now . . .

Because I think this one is just right . . .

Shoes and all.

Thanks, as always, to Beverly at How Sweet The Sound for hosting this pinktastic event every, single Saturday.  Pop over for a list of all the other participants today. 

Maybe The Easter Bunny Ate My Pants

It's a mystery. It's a miracle. My son's school uniform pants have vaporized. Yep, disappeared. Right before our eyes . . . well, almost.

It all may have started when he had a day off this past Monday. Since it was a day of civil service, a day to be a productive citizen, I called upon my 9 year-old son to clean his room. Nothing makes a 9 year-old a more productive part of society than a clean room. Not only does it have the immediate and obvious benefits, it also contributes to a feeling a harmony in the community/family that cannot be understated.

However.

Now we are embroiled in an unsettling mystery. A struggle between fantasy and reality.

There are no uniform pants.

This will happen when a 9 year-old is sent to his room with the vague instructions of, "Clean it." What constitutes clean to an adult, namely orderliness, constitutes unnecessary compulsion to a 9 year-old. No, to a 9 year-old, clean is more a matter of "out of sight, out of mind." Those pants won't be a problem any longer. They have been removed from the back of the chair and put . . . well, let's not get bogged down in the details. The chair looks clean, doesn't it? Okay then.

Not until Wednesday morning, did the mystery reveal itself. There are no uniform pants. Anywhere.

Now, you and I know they are somewhere. Pants don't just disappear. Pants don't just vaporize. But my son's big brown innocent eyes reflect the honest belief that they did just disappear. To him, that is the most logical explanation. Not that they are stuffed under the bed. Not that they got pushed to the back of the closet. Not that they got jammed into the emptiest, yet least logical, dresser drawer. Nope. That is far more far-fetched in my son's mind. The pants have ceased to exist. He is sure of it and is at peace with it.

Isn't it interesting -- I'm using a positive word here, did you notice? -- how our children are so much more open to these possibilities than we are? To use a more accurate word, how about "bizarre." Why and how can they honestly believe that pants just de-materialize? I mean, it's not like the adults in their lives have fed them a steady diet of the mystical. No.

There is no big, white bunny that comes to their house every spring, lets himself in, and leaves behind baskets of candy and toys.

No one ever snatches their lost teeth from under their pillows in exchange for crisp new dollar bills.

No one ever took them to see a kindly old man dressed in a furry red suit who takes note of their every wish and does his best to deliver a few weeks later. Nawwww.

I don't know where these kids get these ideas. Pants . . . disappearing? Now that's hard to believe.  Or is it.