Framing pics

My negligence with posting photos is unacceptable! Motivation has won the day today. (Perhaps only because it gives me an opportunity to show off? Feel free to draw your own conclusions.)

Below is our first framing project. B picked up the painted-suede piece of art in Mexico while we were on our Caribbean cruise in 2006, and I had it framed for his birthday that year. In the background you can see the new color of our upstairs hallway, painted 2 weeks ago, though it really doesn't look like that in person. It's much more like mint ice cream.

Here is the first honeymoon print, which we picked up in Mougins (I mistakenly typed Mougin in the previous post). Does that scene not look like a honeymoon? I suppose ours was a bit short on sunflowers (they weren't in season), but we did see lots of blue, in the south of France, anyway.

Here are the other 3 honeymoon prints. As you can see, they are currently propped up against our coffee table in our living room. We are still prepping the wall upon which they will hang; we removed a floating shelf from it this weekend and had to repair about 8 sizeable holes in the wall and still have to sand and paint them. And by "we," I suspect you know that I don't mean me.

Below are 2 prints we picked up in Venice last year. I thought the colors were interesting and liked the gondolas, especially since we celebrated our first anniversary with a gondola ride (and a $5 pizza dinner).

And here are the newest members of the family! We picked them up in Vermont and have not yet brought them in for framing, though we have already identified where they will live in our house. If you're wondering about the prints from Greece that we recently brought in for framing: they're not ready yet. This weekend, I hope.

And since we're doing pictures, I figured I'd post our new whale. I have stopped worrying that he will fall on my head in the middle of the night and maim me. Plus I lost the battle for moving him to the living room, so above our bed he remains. He's a dashing fellow and I'm really glad we picked him up, no matter how much he (and the silverware and the shoe armoire and the framing) have put a hurt on the September budget.

To frame or not to frame?

Being possessed of an incompletely decorated house, B and I engage in a magical treasure hunt with every trip away as we search for the newest acquisition to adorn our walls, tables, and shelves.

Home decor excites one of us perhaps more than the other. As B pointed out to me recently, "There aren't many men out there who get excited about framing." Perhaps that is true. I don't mind leading the charge (stampede, bulldozer, whichever you prefer) toward decorative nirvana.

Did you know that thesuarus.com presents "nonfunctional" as an alternate for "decorative"? The suggestion is a bit hurtful. True, the pursuit of things is a questionable hobby, one might even call it superficial, though as it turns out, the definition to which I refer appears fifth in the list of definitions for "superficial" on dictionary.com, so perhaps I need a different word.

Some synonym options: Cosmetic, exterior, trivial. None seems all that bad, does it. Home decor might present a cosmetic exterior, but I refuse to believe that surrounding yourself with beautiful things that remind you of great memories is a trivial activity.

The framed print in our dining area brings me back to Mougin, a small town in the south of France popular with artists. We visited early in the morning on our honeymoon on a Monday--if you've been to France and are a shopper, you are all to aware that most stores are closed on Mondays. We wandered the narrow, cobblestoned streets, awake with only the cats and restaurant owners who were putting out empty wine bottles that had been enjoyed that weekend, peering into the windows of stores that wouldn't open for 24 hours and enjoying the golden and gorgeous early-morning Cote d'Azur sun.

As we were leaving the town, we happened upon an open gallery/studio. The artist, a dark, long-haired, and 40-something scruffy man who could only have been a French artist opened his doors and headed to an outdoor table to enjoy his espresso, cigarette, and newspaper with his young-enough-to be-his-daughter leggy girlfriend. B and I tiptoed in and admired his art, lovely and colorful and perfect for us and our house, or it would have been, if the price had been within our budget. We consoled ourselves with a print of his work and managed to travel many thousands of miles home without wrinkling it too much in our suitcase. Upon arriving home, we brought it to a local store for framing.

Those who have had anything framed--but especially a large print--understand the sticker shock that comes with such an activity. The framing always costs more than you think it should, and you reach a critical crossroads at the framing counter, wondering whether you really want the picture framed that badly, or whether you ought to just wait and see if you can find a frame in a store that will look fine enough, even though it won't be the right fit, even though the mats won't match.

When I reach those crossroads, I close my eyes, dig deep (in my purse, for my debit card), and remind myself that money is only money, and while it can't buy happiness, it can help create a heavenly home. And, two weeks later, when I pick up my frame, take it home, and hang it on the wall that was made for it, I never feel regret for a single penny.

Yesterday we dropped off a couple of prints, acquired in Greece a year ago, to be framed. They'll be ready in a couple weeks and will join the rest of our treasures. I've already chosen their location--the bottom of our stairs, a location that previously held three other framed prints, also from our honeymoon, picked up from a street market on our last day in Paris (also a Monday, a week after the first acquisition--hey, I can find shopping even when all the stores are closed).

Yes, I do believe that pictures are in order. Coming soon.

Hotwire: All that and then some

Bargain hunter though I strive to be, especially for travel, I had never tried bidding or blinded travel sites until recently.

I liked the idea of a bargain--who doesn't?--but not finding out critical information such as the time of the flight and the name and address of the hotel until after I booked and paid was way more adventurous than I like to be. For a short vacation, the time that your flights leave and your total time in the air are critical. Similarly, the location of your hotel can significantly improve or hurt your vacation experience.

But I recently found an occasion for which buying a hotel room "blindly" was not such a bad thing.

We're heading back to NYC shortly and decided to find a hotel room in Stamford, CT for the night before so we can get a jump on the day's activities. We didn't care where we stayed, as long as the hotel was close to the train station and was in a safe area. A three-plus star rating was not required but was certainly a bonus.

I started investigating on hotels.com and found some acceptable deals starting around $80, which is not too bad. Most of the nicer hotels were priced at $120 and up, though. On a whim, I decided to check out the deals on hotwire.com and found a 3.5-star hotel for $59/night--bargain! I returned to hotels.com to investigate the 3.5-star hotels in the area and found 3--a Hyatt, a Marriott, and a Holiday Inn. All three looked nice enough from their websites and were advertising prices that were close to $200/night. I knew that I had stumbled upon a good deal.

I didn't book right away, though, and good thing--because the price fell $4 more by the next day! At $55/night, I knew I couldn't pass up the deal, so I booked. Hotwire told me the total amount of the taxes (at $55/night, they weren't too high). The booking page said that sometimes hotels charge additional fees, such as a resort or parking fee, and they would be due upon arrival or checkout. I suspect we'll have to pay some nominal parking charge, and that's ok with me.

After I clicked "Buy," the page told me the hotel that we are staying at (and I was right--it is one of the three I suspected).

So far, I am very pleased with Hotwire. Of course, everyone has heard a horror story or two about online travel agencies, so I'll try not to get too enthusiastic until we check in and the hotel actually has a room for us. But I intend to call the hotel to confirm the reservation with them (always a good idea when you book through a third party) and to inquire about additional fees.

Hotwire isn't for everyone, of course. First of all, you have to pay all of the charges at the time of booking. They offer some level of trip insurance, but it doesn't cover you if you change your mind. Definitely read the fine print before you decide to buy their insurance. Second, they don't offer you a choice of rooms; they recommend that you call the hotel after booking to tell them your requests, such as one king or two double beds. Third, I've read online reviews of people who book hotels through discount sites and end up in the smallest and worst rooms in the hotel. Finally, even if you book a hotel that offers a frequent stay program, such as a Starwood hotel, your stay doesn't count as a stay and you don't earn any points from the stay.

Now I've tried Hotwire--perhaps someday, I will be brave enough to bid on a flight or hotel on Priceline.

And then we bought a whale

We headed to the Cape for Labor Day weekend and came back with a new acquisition for our home - a copper whale.

On the one hand, who buys a 3-foot, 3-dimensional copper whale and then hangs it from a ceiling in their house? It's kind of a strange acquisition.

On the other hand, who hasn't walked into a store, seen an item, and thought, "I can't leave the store without it!" That's how it was with the whale. It (he?) called our names. B didn't need much convincing for that purchase.

The whale has two circles about a foot apart on his back for hanging. He was hanging by some clear plastic string from a hook on the wall. The woman at the store recommended that we not hang him directly against the wall because he is three dimensional. He's only about an inch and a half wide, but he still can't lie flat against the wall.

We had a few ideas for hanging him and headed to Lowe's to buy the hardware. We decided to hang him from hooks in the ceiling and as decorative a chain as we could find. "Decorative" is maybe too generous of a word, but it looks fine enough.

When we bought him, we figured we'd hang him above our bed because we don't have anything on that wall. That's where he hangs now, but I'm not convinced that it's the best place. We might need to install a couple more ceiling hooks and try him out in the living room.

What this post really needs is a picture. I'll get to it, as soon as we decide where his permanent home will be. Until then, we're still trying to come up with a name for him. If you have any ideas, send them along.

Shoe nirvana

As I mentioned in my last post, September has been a month of spending.

I already talked about the silverware. It's nice to use grownup silverware. Moments like these make my upcoming milestone birthday a little easier to accept.

In addition to the silverware, I also bought a new shoe armoire. I have discussed our shoe issues in the past. B and I own quite a few pairs of shoes between us. Mine fit nicely into little (ok, not that little) plastic shoe boxes from The Container Store and live on the top shelf in my closet. The remaining pairs--the ones that get more frequent use--hang from a shoe rack on the back of the door of our coat closet.

B's shoes are a bit bigger than mine. They don't fit into my plastic shoe boxes, and they are too big for the door shoe rack. We use a metal wire rack that now lives in our spare bedroom and is devoted exclusively to his sneakers, shoes, and boots. Unfortunately, they don't all fit, and the chaos is just too much for me.

I have a very low tolerance for clutter, especially of the shoe variety.

While cruising the Hammacher Schlemmer site--the store that sold the shoe box that I originally intended to buy--I discovered a fabulous bigger shoe box that was on sale (how convenient!).

I proposed the purchase to B--we generally consult on non-necessary purchases--and his feelings were neutral. He isn't as bothered by the shoe mess as I am, but he understands that it bothers me and was open to buying the shoe armoire. I didn't need any more convincing.

Thanks to Retail Me Not, I didn't have to pay shipping on what turned out to be a very heavy item - over 70 pounds. The armoire did not arrive fully assembled, but we put it together without needing any tools, and you'd never know when looking at it that it arrived in a box, Ikea-style.

The box holds 25 pairs of shoes, and B is kindly sharing the space with me. He has 15 slots and I'm taking the remaining 10. We can finally repurpose (or perhaps donate) the metal rack, and the back-of-the-door shoe rack can also probably go away.

We have achieved shoe harmony.

I expected better advice, Vera

The past two Septembers have featured decadent trips to European countries, which were ideal for spending binges. When we saw something we wanted--or rather, let me clarify--when I saw something I wanted for us, we bought it.

"B..." I'd say in a particular tone of voice that he is good at mimicking, "Can I have some money?" (I always carried euros but it's a pain taking them out of my money belt.)

At this point, B would sigh and ask how much I needed, but he generally didn't put up much of a fight. He sometimes thinks my proposed purchases are unnecessary but in hindsight, agrees that they are worthwhile.

This September, we have no big European trip planned. In fact, we have no trip planned for the entire month. Home we shall stay, but that doesn't mean that I can just give up my annual spending spree! Good habits like that are difficult to break.

The spree started with the flatware. Remember the flatware I wanted to buy ages ago? Well, I finally got around to buying it. It's by Vera Wang and it's called Equestrian, and it's been discontinued. I feared that if I waited any longer, I wouldn't be able to get it anymore. We ordered a single set from Amazon to make sure we liked the weight and feel, and we did, so we ordered a full set from Replacements.com. It arrived yesterday, and we've already started using it. It came with some interesting instructions:

1. Wash thoroughtly prior to first use.
No problem. This one is pretty common sense. We were able to fit about 3/4 of the set into the flatware slots in our dishwasher, and the remaining pieces will get washed next time the dishwasher fills up.

2. While Vera Wang stainless steel is dishwasher safe, we recommend stopping the cycle prior to drying and removing the knives to hand dry the blades.
Really? Really?? This recommendation reminds me of those ads with the woman running down the stairs, frantically clutching her fabric softener bottle, but always missing the point in the cycle when she's supposed to add the magic softener. I'm not going to set the alarm so I can wake up at 3 AM (which is when our dishwasher cycle usually ends - we have a 6-hour countdown timer on it and usually run it in the middle of the night to take advantage of what we hope are cheaper electricity rates) so I can dry the blades on my butter knives. Lame advice.

3. Do not allow your flatware to soak, even in plain water, or remain unwashed overnight.
There are some days when we have to run the dishwasher on a nightly basis, but we frequently can go 2-3 days without running it through. And the whole point of a dishwasher is to not have to wash annoying things like forks by hand. Definitely not practical.

4. Do not wrap in rubber bands, plastic, newspaper, or any high sulphur material.
I wonder if the plastic that the pieces came enclosed in is excluded?

Bad instructions aside, we're loving our flatware. The spending spree continued with a whale and a shoe armoire - I'll save those treasures for another time.

Five years of awesome

Yesterday marked the five-year anniversary of B's and my first date, and I was reminiscing about the time we spent together before our first date.

You might say that our relationship developed during a series of after-work happy-hour outings to local bars, back when you could smoke in bars, back when one of us did smoke.

I always drank Coke, Sprite, or water because I was a driving commuter. B was a Bud guy.

The first time that B asked me out, I had to say no because I was joining a group of coworkers for a harbor cruise that night. We were going on the Sunday of Labor Day weekend. Wasn't he going, I asked. He said he wasn't because he got seasick on boats.

After LS and I boarded the (disappointing, dark, and dingy) vessel, I saw him. He showed up in spite of the threat of illness at sea. I stopped worrying that our boat would sink at any moment and realized that the night was full of potential.

We spent the whole evening together, talking and laughing. I knew from time spent together at bars that I was interested in getting to know B better, but I wasn't sure if we were a good match for each other. He seemed impulsive and much braver than I and had lived much more raucously than I. I wondered if he would be too wild for me and if I would be too sedate for him. But that night on the barely seaworthy boat, I realized that there was something between us that I needed to explore further.

Later that night, while I was in the ladies room, B told LS, "I like your friend." She said, "I know." He replied, "No, I really like her." I still smile when I think about that exchange, even though I wasn't part of it.

At the end of the night, when he tried to put us in a cab and we stubbornly refused and insisted we could take the bus home, he asked if I would go on a date with him. I smiled and told him that I didn't date smokers. He smoked his last cigarette that night, and we had our first date the following Friday, an outing to a driving range and a local burger place.

And in case you're wondering, he managed to avoid seasickness the entire evening. And in the last five years, his wildness has rubbed off a little on me, and the equilibrium that characterizes my life has evened his keel a bit.