Archive for January, 2012

Published by PaintingChef on 23 Jan 2012

My bedside table tells you that I love to read. Also that my heels are really dry and I’m easily persuaded by medical-looking packaging for remedies. Oh, and that I have a stuffy nose.

I’ve disappeared into a literary wormhole… seriously. I’ve always been a reader but over the past month I’ve been like an addict searching for a fix. Thank god for the library, right? Otherwise I’d be strung out AND homeless while Amazon lived happily on not even noticing that every penny of my vast, vast (snort…) fortune was now resting happily in its little hands.

Here are my latest fixes… (In no particular order other than my remembering what I’ve read) I recommend every. single. one.

The Weird Sisters by Eleanor Brown

Steps and Exes by Laura Kalpakian

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Beauty, Disrupted by Carre Otis (SHUT UP. I have a weird fascination with the models of the 90s. They were around when I would sneak out of bed to watch Cindy Crawford on House of Style and I was obsessed with Elsa Klensch’s “Style” on CNN. Headline News? I don’t remember. It was before I got all fatty and my teeth moved back to being jacked up because I promptly had my braces off and chucked my retainer into a drawer and never thought twice about it. DON’T BE LIKE ME!)

Gatsby’s Girl by Caroline Preston

The Paris Wife by Paula McLain

Red Mist by Patricia Cornwell Not sure why this one says the release date is September 2012 as it is sitting in my bookshelf and I have already read it… also the one book on this list that, while wasn’t BAD, was the most “meh” of the bunch. But I will ALWAYS read about Dr. Scarpetta, even though I kind of want to kick her in the teeth at this point.

So Much Pretty by Cara Hoffman

The Soul Thief by Charles Baxter

Joy for Beginners by Erica Bauermeister

Of Bees and Mist by Erica Setiawan

A Grown-up Kind of Pretty by Joshilyn Jackson

The Face Thief by Eli Gottlieb

Now You See Him by Eli Gottlieb

Zero Day by David Baldacci

Revenge of the Radioactive Lady by Elizabeth Stuckey-French

Your turn! What are you reading?

Published by PaintingChef on 11 Jan 2012

The saga of the purple room. Part possibly one but maybe two of potentially eleventy billion.

My darling husband is an engineer and all that that implies. When he took up with me a dozen or so years ago, he was suddenly exposed to a world of clutter and disorder and haphazard “organization” the likes of which he had never seen. I? Was familiar with his breed as they are rampant in my family tree. He didn’t have that luxury. Bless his heart.

But over the years, we find a common ground and we find a way to live with each other. He only throws the sledgehammer at me if the piles of junk mail hang around longer than a week and if I get angry while he cleans up behind me in the kitchen, I make an effort to avoid organs when I stab him. We are thinking of starting a side business as marriage counselors. Or at the very least, getting a reality show.

All this aside, we do manage to exist in the same house and are both still very much alive after doing so for a decade. (FUCK I’M OLD) But over the course of a decade, couple tend to… accumulate things. Many things. And eventually, those things need a place to be things and do the things that those things do even if all they are doing is sitting in a box with other things that at some point seemed related but now all you have is a box with a picture frame, three Barbie dolls (Joan Jett, Debbie Harry and Cyndi Lauper and I LOVE THEM but I have no idea what to DO with them), a book on calligraphy, 4 issues of Martha Stewart Living and a sushi mat.

But there were many of these boxes. LOADS of them. And stacks and piles and leaning towers of things that had all been jammed in this one room whenever company was coming over and I was suddenly embarrassed to be kind of clutter-y. Rinse and repeat and suddenly we were finding ourselves in a single room, always keep the door closed, hoarders situation that we were no longer able to ignore.

So we spent a weekend cleaning out what had come to be known as The Purple Room. And that bitch turned out to be a LOT bigger than I thought! I once again have a place just for painting AND? AND!! AND!?!? I just stole my ballet barre from my parents’ house and Patrick is going to put that sucker up on the walls. Well… after we rip the weird foam sun down from the wall, sand them and paint over all the strange birds and picket fences and odd little things painted all over the purple walls. And put up mirrors behind the barre. Oh, and after we pull up the totally ruined by a formerly non-housebroken dog and put down hardwood. And find a new desk that isn’t secretly a kitchen table. And maybe re-cover a chair. And put up a television.

Shit. now I’m exhausted. Can we just close the door again? Stupid engineers.