August 7, 2008
Second Chances
Not too long ago, I wrote about all the trials and tribulations (some environmental and contextual and some very much self-inflicted) that brought and then finally allowed Simon and I to be together. I'm posting it again as part of BlogHer's promotion, with Warner Brothers, of the new Diane Lane/Richard Gere movie, here, and for a second chance to read about my own second chance, keep on reading. ***
Simon and I don't have a proper anniversary. Our relationship began in what some might call an "unusual" way (okay, more like a tale of Shakespearean proportions), and so there are several times during the year that we kinda sorta half-assedly mark as our Couplehood Milestones. There's the first time we actually met--March of 2002 (which I don't actually remember)--and the second time we met--March 2003 (which I totally remember because I was completely charmed)--and then December 2003 (officially smitten, even though I was newly engaged and he was several years married)--and March 2004 (begin COLOSSAL crush)--and then all the dates that go along with your usual song and dance: broken engagement, yadda yadda, divorce, blah blah, heartbreak and drama and rending of garments and then bliss at last, albeit complicated bliss...you know how it is.
I finally announced him on the blog in September of 2005--three years ago, my god--and even though it would make more sense to reflect on this in a couple of weeks, on the actual anniversary of that post, I'm pretty much over any attachment to having an official Day on Which to Celebrate Our Love, and so here I am, celebrating him, celebrating us, today, because why the hell not? Every day's a fine day for love. (And bacon. And lemon sorbet. And sugary cereal.)
Although now that I've vamped for two paragraphs, I'm not quite sure what it is I want to say. What prompted this train of thought in the first place was that this weekend Simon had to drop off and then pick up something Petaluma that would keep him out of the house all day Saturday, from about 1 to 10 p.m. (with a big stretch of nothingness in between), and I had the option of tagging along or staying home alone to tackle some of the dozens of house chores that I've been fixating on for weeks. The smart choice was to stay home and work, but hey, we're not exactly known for our smart choices when it comes to each other, and in fact those not-smart choices are indeed the very things that have gotten us to this point at all--we're the poster children for making bad decisions, he and I--and so it was that I threw responsibility aside and decided to tag along for the day, not because I could be of any help or because it made sense or was "smart" but because I couldn't stand the thought of him being away so long. Going to work for eightish hours a day is one thing, but staying home on a Saturday for nine hours all alone when I could be enjoying his company? No contest. Maybe it's codependence, but maybe it's also just three-plus-year-old goofy-ass love. In short, merely the thought of him being away all day made me miss him, so I let that be my guide, and thus passed our relatively unproductive Saturday, spent not completing tasks and to-do lists but wasting time and holding hands.
From the get go he was clear about not pressuring me one way or another, but when we finally got home late Saturday night, he confessed, "I'm really glad you came along. I love spending time with you." So that's really what I wanted to say. I love spending time with you too, babe. I always keep it in my back pocket that I never in a million billion trillion years thought we'd make it to this point and I should count my lucky stars every day for the opportunity, and I do. But even without all that drama and history, I'm still just knocked off my feet by how much I love being around you every chance I get. That sparkle you have in these photographs: you've still got it. And I still feel a spark when I look at them. You are a handsome devil, yessiree. In all of these ways and a million billion trillion others, every day is an anniversary and a reason to celebrate. Just keep the pink champagne on ice for another few months so I can share it with you, eh?
Its Never too Late For a Second Chance. See Nights in Rodanthe September 26th.
July 24, 2008
Life on Linden Street
A few weeks ago I was asked if I'd review some products from JCPenney's new home collection called Linden Street, which, hi, yeah, of course I will accept an offer to bring more pretty things into my living space (especially if JCP and BlogHer give me a $500 gift card with which to do it!), for I am nesting like a whole host of sparrows here as I slide into the end of pregnancy week twenty (halfway there! halfway there!).
When I returned to my office after a few days off work for what is known to my coworkers as my "*mumble mumble* writing conference," I found my desk a fortress of large cardboard boxes containing some of the stuff I'd ordered online for review just a week prior. Now, before I actually talk about the products, let me say up front that if you're having a housewares emergency and need a decorative mirror or a retro clock or a set of lamby-soft towels in a variety of neutral colors NOW NOW NOW, JCPenney online is a good way to go because they ship FAST. (I ordered on a Sunday and had my merch by Thursday!) I should also say that what follows is a compensated but honest review, which includes the part about no animals having been permanently damaged in the researching of this article. (They liked it, I swear!)
And now, follow the link for my first official product review--with pictures! pictures of cats! pictures of cats in no actual physical danger!
***
So, going into this review, I had a certain amount of money to spend, and after I'd secured the big-ticket items--two lamps that are backordered and will be reviewed sometime in August--I had some room left over for a few smaller things. What caught my eye were these two clocks, on sale for only twenty bucks a pop.
The Clocks
Do you know when I last had a new alarm clock? It was 1987, when I graduated from sharing a bunkbed with my baby brother and moved into my very own room, a room that would nicely accommodate a totally radical cottoncandy-pink digital alarm clock/radio shaped like "the future" *the future* *the future.* I had that clock from age eight until age twenty-six (including the four years the radio didn't work because the dial got broken in my 2001 move to California), and I only got rid of it when I shacked up with Simon, who had fully-functional twenty-year-old alarm clock/radio and thenceforth became my human wakeup call because I really am that lazy.
Not my greasy fingerprints
Anywaaaaay...I saw these two clocks and figured they'd make a perfect addition to our new Very Adult Bedroom. The "oil-rubbed bronze" finish is a little bit silver and a little bit gold, so it goes with everything in the room, which is great for obsessive metal matchers like myself. I recently learned, however, that things don't always have to "match" so long as they "go," and that's what inspired me to designate one clock the Girl Clock and the other the Manly Clock, placing one on each bedside table and thus smashing to smithereens the perfect (and perfectly boring) symmetry of the rest of the room. Feel free to steal this design idea from me (even though I stole it from various home-improvement shows).
The true test of the clocks, though, was whether they ticked audibly all night, inspiring dreams of imminent explosions or ravenous fictional crocodiles. The verdict: they don't tick (loud enough to give me nightmares)! One hundred gold stars to the JCPenney clock designers for taking my sanity into account when manufacturing their product! The other small triumph is that the alarms (which get louder and faster the longer they're on; brilliant!) beep on the same tone, which might seem like a small thing unless you have perfect relative pitch (like Simon) and can imagine the sound of one slightly flat note rubbing up against one slightly sharp note as the first thing you hear every morning for the next twenty years. Like fingernails on a chalkboard mounted inside your cochlea, I imagine.
So: the clocks work, they're not crazymaking, they look fantastic both solo and coupled, and the one reminds me of my grandfather's sixties-style bedroom while the other looks like something that might be attached via fob to one particularly tardy White Rabbit--what's not to love? Well, the clock hands, which are inlaid with subtle glow-in-the-dark panels, seem to only illuminate in proportion to the amount of light they absorb beforehand. What that means is that in a bedroom that stays pretty dark all day like ours, the panels don't suck up enough light to last until that first wee-hours second-trimester bathroom break, let alone through the night and into morning. Result: I still don't know what time it is when I wake up, so I have to nudge Simon just like old times. I choose to believe this will help our communication skills.
As a final word on the clocks, I have to get extremely nerdy here for a minute and say that my first impression was not good. Before I'd even cracked the styrofoam shell encasing the product, out fell one heck of a mess of an instruction sheet. Do you delight in lists of collective nouns (e.g., a murder of crows, a clowder of cats, a host of sparrows)? Well, this instruction sheet was an embarrassment of typos. Outsourced to India or China or upper Finland, I know they have space bars in all of those places, and last I heard there were no international laws against using them. Dear JCPenney: Hire a proofreader for your print materials.
***
Okay, um...who knew I had so much to say about clocks? Probably the same person who knows I have VERY LITTLE to say about mirrors.
The Mirror
We had this crazy idea that a large display of mirrors on the big empty wall opposite our bed would be super cool, but holy moly, y'all, mirrors are expensive! When I saw this one, I figured it would be either a good start to our collection or a good end to our non-collection, mostly depending on how big it was.
The dimensions on the site say "Linden Street mirror measures X by Y," but I didn't know if that was the size of the mirrored surface alone or the whole deal, polystyrene frame and all. It turns out to be the frame measurement, which is fine (although it would have been nice to know beforehand), but the real downside is that in learning this I also learned that I hate polystyrene. It's supposed to look like wood, I think, and it will do the trick once we have it mounted on the wall above a dresser, but I sort of wish I'd hired someone to unpack the mirror and measure and mount it for me so I never had to take a close look at and touch the polystyrene, and would therefore not notice and remember every surface flaw for ever and ever whenever I see the mirror. At eighty bucks for fake wood, I can only imagine what it would cost for the real thing, though, so perhaps I should just keep my mouth shut.
One other thing: The mirrored surface came with fingerprints on it, which is not an actual criticism so much as evidence that my product was lovingly inspected by hand by a person so confident in his or her work that s/he was willing to leave personal-idenfication marks as an endorsement of quality instead of just one of those little "Inspected by 36" stickers. Now that's company loyalty.
***
And now the fun part:
The Trunks
How big do these look to you? Big enough to store a blanket? To serve as a toy chest? To restrain a one-year-old cat?
If you guessed the last option, you're right! The large trunk can fit a single medium- to large-sized cat up to at least seven years old, although I don't think any of the cats in my house will ever go within leaping distance of either trunk after today, which is fine because the red velvety lining is a magnet for cat hair.
When I first saw these trunks online, my first thought was "Awesome!" My second thought was "But so small!" My third thought was "But so cute!" My fourth thought was "But so expensive!" My fifth thought was "Great for treasure hunts!" And my sixth thought was "Faux leather? Yeeeuuuch!" In the end I figured anyone who's into treasure hunts (i.e., kids) will not care about the fauxness of the leather, and so I clicked to buy and hoped they'd be at least marginally non-offensive. Looking at them now, stacked one on top of the other at an artistic angle on the other side of the room, I'm not disappointed. Looking at them closely, however, I have some issues...
Issue #1: It's faux leather. Yeeeuuuch.
Issue #2: The aging applied to the surface seems to have been some sort of spray-on varnish, which smells like...let's just say I had to move the trunks into a well-ventilated area because I thought I saw a purple unicorn dance across the ceiling and figured the fumes at that point might be more dangerous than purely recreational.
Issue #3: The varnish also made the trunks kind of sticky. I had to pry them open, and in the right wrong light you can see where the styrofoam they were packed in has left ridges in the finish. I hope this will go away, but I already imagine that this surface won't hold up very well against rough treatment (i.e., kids) or spills.
Issue #4: The craftsmanship of the details leaves something to be desired.
Overall, though, the effect from a distance is good. I'd definitely put these out on display--perhaps store camera or knitting equipment in them--rather than just hide them in a closet between treasure huntings. If the cats were voting, they'd give the trunks two thumbs down, but then cats don't have opposable thumbs, so their votes don't count.
***
As I mentioned before, I have a few more reviews coming next month (two great lamps and a set of towels, which I ordered in the wrong color this time around; note to self: calibrate your monitor), but for now let me end with this:
I don't remember when I last shopped at JCPenney for anything. It always seemed outdated and uncool and, well, like somewhere my parents would have shopped for home accessories when I was a kid. (Perhaps they helped me pick out a cute pink alarm clock there in 1987?) With this recent collection, though, they seem to have caught on to the trends of many of the major popular home furnishing stores (think dark wood, faux aging, neo-Old World style), and they seem to have done it at a more or less reasonable price (especially if you're shopping now, when the entire collection looks to be 50 percent off!). If you're into this style but not into paying twice as much for something that looks just fine from a distance, I think this is a good place to start. Tell them Linus sent you.
No animals were harmed in the researching of this review, I swear.
