Farewell, Cottage Living

Wednesday, December 10, 2008 at 8:13 pm (Cottage Industry)
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For many years, I’ve aspired to live in a cottage, which I talked about here. Yesterday, I was sad to hear that Cottage Living magazine is closing up shop — a victim of the economy. I’ve been a subscriber since the first issue appeared in my mailbox four years ago, a freebie because I subscribe to other so-called “shelter” magazines. And I’ve saved every issue — only missing a couple when my subscription got messed up during a move.

Over the years, I’ve lamented the sometimes light-on-content issues and the propensity to feature rooms done or redone by magazine staffers who obviously have the whole design resources of the magazine at their disposal. Country Home magazine has become my favorite for being consistently wonderful. But still, Cottage Living was something I looked forward to and couldn’t bring myself to give up, even as I dropped other subscriptions (e.g., Real Simple, though lovely, was expendable in the name of simplifying; Cooking Light fell by the wayside as it became too much Cooking with 27 Ingredients or Cooking Largely with Ingredients My Husband Won’t Eat). This time, the decision is made for me — and I assume I lose my unfilled subscription dollars too, which really doesn’t seem fair at all.

Coincidentally, I just got a card saying my nephew (via my sister) got me a subscription to Martha Stewart Living, so I’ll get my creative decorating (and inferiority) fix anyway. I subscribed for a year or so many years ago, and decided then it was just too darn intimidating. Now, I think, I’ll just appreciate it for its beauty. As for my cottage dreams…well, I’ll just have to nurture them the old-fashioned way — in my head.

I can envision a small cottage somewhere, with a lot
of writing paper, and a dog, and a fireplace, and
maybe enough money to give myself some Irish coffee
now and then and entertain my two friends.
                                            ~ Lt. Richard Van de Geer

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A saint for all seasons

Tuesday, December 9, 2008 at 12:02 pm (Cottage Industry)
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If you’re not Catholic, you might not realize that we have a saint for everything. As americancatholic.org explains:

Certain Catholic saints are associated with certain life situations. These patron saints intercede to God for us. We can take our special needs to them and know they will listen to our prayers, and pray to God with us.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve cashed in on that ticket in my life…along with devotion to Mary, which, in my opinion, is the best thing about being Catholic (or being raised Catholic in my case, as I don’t practice anymore. Long story. But, if you are Catholic and remember your catechism, you know that every sacrament, from Baptism to First Communion to Confirmation to the other four leaves an indelible mark on your soul — a holy tattoo so to speak — so basically, you’re Catholic for life.) 

But I digress.

Since becoming a homeowner, and particularly over the last few years of living in fixer-upperhood, my saint of choice has become St. Joseph. (Not to mention having to sell 5 houses over the years. I never buried him in the yard, but I sure did pray a lot.) He was a carpenter, you know, so in my book, that means he was a supreme DIYer and, of course, an expert. So what if they didn’t have electricity or plumbing and he didn’t have anything to do with concrete or garage door installation or clik-lok floors. He’s my go-to guy when we’re doing any sort of home-improvement project that’s particularly difficult or frustrating or dangerous or tedious or just short of impossible — so, pretty much all of them.

This past weekend he heard from me a lot. For the past three years, I’ve been besieged by an ugly spot in the hardest possible place — on the upstairs hall ceiling above the stairs. jaggededgeOur hallway has layers of paint over wallpaper, and when I painted after we moved in, the tape I used to get a clean edge at the ceiling tore the wallpaper, leaving ugly brown underpaper exposed. I daubed some white paint on most areas to disguise them, but I just couldn’t reach that 2-foot scar over the stairway. Every day it taunted me, “You’re a loser. Martha wouldn’t tolerate me. Everyone sees me. I’m ugly. Ha. Ha. Ha.”  Kind of like the talking stain in the Tide-to-Go commercials.

Last year sometime (yeah, I know, it was on sale) we bought crown mold to completely cover the bad edge. Finally, this past weekend was “the one,” given that it was too cold to work outside on the porch. With the best of intentions, we cleared the space, assembled our ladders (one purchased months ago just for the occasion and still in its wrapping), and got to work.

Within 10 seconds, it got difficult.

Thinking it would make the job a breeze, we had bought those corner moldings that keep you from having to miter the corners — a nightmare task anytime but particularly in an old house where walls and corners are never true and square. Well, duh, if they’re not true and square, the corner blocks don’t fit right either. And Mike didn’t like them anyway, saying they were too Victorian and our other rooms with crown mold didn’t have them.

That left us (by us I mean Mike) with a lot of complex figuring and endless trial and error to cut those damn corners. As he perched on a ladder on the landing holding an 8-ft piece of molding over his head, and I perched on a ladder along the side wall next to the stairs, holding a 12-ft piece of molding, I prayed a lot. Over and over.

As always, it worked (rather, Mike and St. Joseph made it work). They persevered, long after I abandoned the effort to put up Christmas decorations, and got that blasted molding installed, including some complicated piecing. And without the nice nailgun we had bought for the job as well (but have used for numerous other projects in the meantime) because even the longest nails it holds were just too short. All that remains is a bit more caulking, and then painting.

Of course, it looks beautiful. I’ll share a few photos when it’s all done. In the meantime, I have some pretty serious “Thank you dear St. Joseph”-ing to attend to. Always appropriate, but especially at this time of year.

Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when,
whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees. 
                                                                       ~ Victor Hugo

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Haunted Baby Take II

Friday, December 5, 2008 at 6:35 pm (Writing by Ear)
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Last year, I posted about some of my most memorable Christmas toys, and Baby Drowsy topped the list as my all-time favorite. I mentioned how, some 15 years later, my youngest niece got a Baby Drowsy of her own, which she promptly used to torment her older sister, earning Drowsy a new name: “the haunted baby.”

Seems another talking babydoll is the newest contender for haunted-baby accolades. I hadn’t heard the buzz until Mike told me about it a couple nights ago. A Fisher Price/Mattel doll includes some religious propaganda amidst the billing and cooing. This site describes it much better than I can — and you can listen for yourself and make up your own mind.

I can hear it clearly. Cute baby sounds and then haunted baby takes over, proclaiming “Islam is the light.”  What bothers me most is the manufacturer’s matter-of-factness and basic denial that anything was amiss, not even admitting, “Oh, there might have been a problem, we’ll look into it.” (Can you not hear, people?) They apparently deleted the offending portion of the tape, without admitting anything was there in the first place. And what about all those proselytizing dollies on the shelf?

Way to demonstrate corporate social responsibility.

Clearly, someone or a group of someones messed with your doll’s tape. Doesn’t sound that implausible or that hard. Simply denying it ever happened is just lame.

Yet another reason to eschew new fad dollies (Mike and I noticed one that peed and pooped — and proudly proclaimed so on the box. Ewwww.) and stick with tried and true toys — if you can even find them anymore and feel confident they’re not going to contain lead paint or melamine or cheap plastic parts that will break off and choke your child or come in ridiculous packaging that you and your favorite hacksaw can’t penetrate. I’m almost afraid to look for Drowsy and see what she’s morphed into. Better she live forever in pleasant and funny memories.

Corporation: An ingenious device for
obtaining profit without individual responsibility. 
                                                     ~ Ambrose Bierce

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