Note To Future Self

I say, dearest. Do you remember back in 2008 when our living room was that horrible grey color?

With that ghastly modern art on the walls…

Then there was that lovely spring weekend we spent repainting it a different horrible grey color…

and you insisted on painting one wall with the blood of our defeated enemies…

No, me neither. But for some reason my arms are really tired.

p.s. The title of the post? Monday was Labour Day, a national holiday. It took a three-day weekend to get the project completed. Yes, we’re nesting. You should see the to-do list.

A couple of months ago we re-arranged the living room; which involved re-moving a built-in bookshelf. In doing so we realized that the painter (dedicated enough to move our dying houseplants outside “because everything deserves a chance to live”), hadn’t. Faced with the prospect of painting part of the wall; we decided – hey why not paint the whole wall!

Thus began the process of deciding what color to paint the wall. After careful consideration of paint chips, we’ve been through several rounds of test pots – all carefully mosaicked within the existing bare spot so if worst comes to worst, we can just hang the bookshelf back up.

I think we’re nearly there. The lady at the “Resene ColorShop” talked me out of the yellows I was trying and towards a terracotta color that Aaron was aiming for all along. I’m a little scared, but I like it. You can breathe now, mom, we’re only thinking of painting one wall orange. We’re thinking of doing the other three in a warmer shade of neutral (in for a penny , in for a pound , eh?). I’m not quite as convinced by the putty color the lady at the store picked out. It’s certainly warmer than what’s there now, but it’s still just a different shade of blah.

The dark grey is the color of the trim. We’re trying to find colors that work with the existing trim because (a) we’re lazy and (b) I can live with painted woodwork because it’s not my house, but I think the act of actually painting the woodwork would cause my head to explode.
(and yes, for you pedants, technically it’s the Christchurch Centre of Contemporary Art)

For I own a washing machine.

And, in a rather frightening glimpse of things to come, its first act in our house was to spit up on the floor.

Forsythia and Rhododendrons are both icons of spring.I have a soft spot for both of them. Rhododendrons remind me of Swat and portland.There was a big bank of Forsythia outside the naval observatory in madison, so I always feel a bit homesick when I see them. However, the logic that would plant them next to each other … escapes me.