Poor England. For eons, the island has suffered the world's scorn for its dubious culinary reputation. And yet, the very same culture that serves up mushy peas, spotted dick, and bangers and mash, has the market cornered on stunning yet simple kitchens. This kitchen, with its pale pink walls, emerald green tiles, and teal cabinetry, is the jaw-dropping new showplace of DeVOL Kitchens in the design district of London. Let's take a gander, shall we?
Read moreA Duck Comedy Assignment
This week, a friend sent a link to a humor writing contest. Called the Royal Nonesuch Humor Writing Contest, it is sponsored by the Mark Twain Museum in Hartford, Connecticut. The deadline is next week, so click here to enter. Full disclosure, you have to pay $23 to submit, but I strongly encourage you to give it a try, as one of the prizes is a gift certificate to the Mark Twain store in Hartford, Connecticut. The "Cat in the Ruff" laminated bookmark is super cute.
Read moreThe Iranian Joke Teller
I traveled to Iowa recently to attend my niece's graduation. Over brunch, everyone was discussing a story in the news about some idiot kids who burned down one of those landmark Iowa covered bridges. They got caught when they posted photos of themselves standing at the bridge with a container of kerosene. Just despicable. We all tsk-tsked about the fall of civilization and how somewhere, Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep were crying.
Read moreYou People Crack Me Up!
Every week, I work hard to write witty posts for you people and I hit 'send' and I'm happy. Then you open the email and write me back. Or you post a comment on the blog. Or on Facebook or Instagram. And let me tell you, you're a bunch of memoir-reading, NPR-listening, SNL-watching, kombucha-sipping smarty pants. This is my teasing way of saying that your comments are wonderful! You seem to be a very well-rounded crowd. Interesting. Funny. Worldly.
Read moreStrangers in Paris
Last year at an estate sale up in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, the woman standing next to me remarked that this was the home of her deceased surgeon. "Sorry to hear that," I said. "Yeah," she replied, "Good thing my cleaning lady saw the obit. I was scheduled for a boob job that Tuesday."
Of course I immediately looked at her boobs. Couldn't have helped it if I tried. My glance answered my first question, which was whether she found a replacement surgeon. But the second question I asked myself went unanswered. Which was why. Why did this nice woman tell me, a perfect stranger, such a thing?
Read moreThe Secret of My Perfect Powder Room
I have a tiny powder room off the kitchen that I redid last summer in time for the wedding party we hosted. It is such a perfect little jewel box, I thought I'd share some photos.
The wallpaper is from the Brooklyn company, Flat Vernacular. Can you see the peacock pattern? They're arranged in mirror images so that they form a kind of chain link.
Read moreA New Headshot for A New Chapter
It is time for a new profile pic. I'll tell you the reason in a moment. I saw the photo on the left and decided that this was the look I needed.
Renn, my most trusted photographer, said, "No, I don't think this is going to work."
"But I'm a sexy laaady," I said.
Read moreIris Knows You Can't Have It All
A few years ago, I watched the Albert Mayles documentary on Iris Apfel, the self-described nonagenarian starlet. Have you seen it? She's quite a woman, a darling of the New York fashion industry who worked as an editor at Vogue Magazine, founded her own textile company, decorated homes of the rich and famous, and recently stars in national ad campaigns for Kate Spade and Alexis Bittar.
But only once does she touch upon one reason for her success. The director asks her about children and she says, "You can't have it all. I knew that."
Oh, did those words sting me.
Read moreWhat Do You Tell Your Kids About Prom?
In my suburban town, the unwritten dress code for girls attending prom is straightforward: juniors wear long gowns and seniors wear cocktail dresses. Over the years, as four sons attended, and I went to various houses to take photos, I never witnessed anyone who challenged this rule. Except for Clare.
Clare wore a vintage sari to prom.
Look at her. Was she not most fair and lovely? And so open to the world.
Read moreTake a Tour of Patrick and Ed's Guest Womb
My friend Patrick has created the most cozy and welcoming guest room (womb) that no one in their right mind would ever want to leave. I met Patrick because our husbands work together. He and Ed live about a mile away from us, so after you've toured this room, you'll understand my problem -- how to finagle a situation where I would be forced to stay in this incredible space. Snowstorm? Tequila shots? Dead car battery? Poltergeist? Help me out here.
Read moreA Little Bit of Tongue Goes A Long Way
One afternoon last summer, I fell asleep on the patio and dreamt that a deer walked up and licked me. I awoke with a start and there in the distance stood a doe, gazing at me, and — I am not making this up —her eyes were filled with longing.
No surprise, really, when one considers that I am perpetually covered in a thin sheen of salt, a side-effect of hot flashes. That day was no different. To the doe, I must have appeared a rounded-off salt lick.
Read moreThat Time You Didn't Open My Email
This week's post is nothing at all about antiques or design. But you guys like it when I veer off topic. I know this because Mailchimp tells me so.
Mailchimp is the platform I use for sending my newsletter every Friday. I love Mailchimp, and I'll tell you why in a moment. But first, let's talk about the worst email I ever sent you, performance-wise.
Read moreApril the Giraffe Walks Into a Bar
It was April in Wisconsin, the meanest month of the year when winter jabs a fat finger in your chest and laughs as she slowly backs out the door. Coincidentally, April also happened to be the name of my companion that night.
April and I can't go anywhere without drawing a lot of attention. Maybe because she's what you would call a long tall drink of water. Or a nice piece of wicker. She's one of those lucky dames who never has to contend with the usual midwestern roll of fat that can turn on your laptop if you're not careful. It's just not in her DNA.
Read moreAmy Krouse Rosenthal and the Ending of an Ordinary Life
In an essay written from her hospital bed on Valentine's Day, author Amy Krouse Rosenthal implored her readers to consider why "You May Want to Marry My Husband." She was in the final stages of a battle against ovarian cancer. "I'm facing a deadline," she wrote.
Read moreGetting Sexy with Shelves
This photo is my sister's family room. I hope by now you can recognize my touch. She and I worked hard to accessorize that large expanse of shelving. Bookcases are difficult to make cohesive. I'll let you in on a couple of tricks.
Read moreCh-Ch-Ch-Changes at This Year's Alt Summit
Recently, I attended Alt Summit, a conference for creative entrepreneurs. Alt Summit used to be held in Salt Lake City, Utah, a logical setting for a conference organized by members of the Church of Latter Day Saints. I've attended twice in that location. But this year, founder Gabrielle Blair moved the whole shebang to Palm Springs, California, and the new setting made a big difference for some interesting reasons.
Read moreA Portrait: Snowbirds in Love
Against a wintry backdrop, a man peruses a magazine while a woman shovels snow behind him. The couple are Don and Dottie Hagan, of Des Moines, Iowa, and something about their photo reminds me of Grant Wood's painting, American Gothic. Do you see it too? The Iowa setting, Don's deadpan expression, that shovel, the house in the background.
Unlike American Gothic's subjects, who were father and daughter, Don and Dottie are husband and wife. You won't be surprised to learn that they have been married for fifty-six years.
When I saw this photo, my first question was who took it?
Read moreLa La Land: Masterpiece or Garbage? Online Debate Erupts!
That very dashing young man in the header photo is my friend Max. As a film student, he produced both of the videos for Finder Not Keeper. We go back a long way. Late last year, he baited his Facebook hook with a very juicy worm of an opinion and the following conversation ensued through texts and Facebook messages. Max's commentary is gray. Mine is green and blue. We both use swears.
Read moreMary Richards and Her Bachelorette Pad
Mr. Grant must be scowling at the news, and not because of the usual bumbling incompetence in the WJM-TV newsroom, but because his best hire ever, Mary Richards, has finally let him down.
Mary Tyler Moore passed away this week and right now, all I want to do is pull out a hide-a-bed, grab a box of kleenex and mourn Mary the way that she mourned Chuckles the Clown. Laughter and tears.
Read moreOn the Third Anniversary of The Bubble Joy, Here's What I Know About You
I've always struggled with deadlines. Procrastination and I go way back. I tried to dump Procrastination but he was like the Navy seaman Jon Something-or-other who had a thing for me in 1979 and kept popping up outside our kitchen window, scaring the bejeezus out of my poor mother, until 1984 when he showed up AWOL and got put in the brig and finally left me alone.
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