My monogramming behavior is escalating. It's like I'm a serial killer, except my victims are inanimate objects rather than people, and my weapons of choice are a needle and some thread. (Well, actually, since I don't own my own monogramming machine, I guess technically my weapon of choice is my Visa card. So I'm not so much a serial killer as someone who hires a hit man - hit stitcher? - a la those cheerleader moms.)
I have now moved on to monogramming furniture. En route to me, courtesy of my friends at Ballard Designs: one monogrammed Parsons chair in "Skyler Check Chocolate." Well, actually, only the slipcover is en route at this point, as I opted to wait on the chair proper while I consider a sofa purchase. (And - proof that good things come to those who wait - they just sent me a 10% off e-coupon.)
So, I guess you could say that the SKIN of a monogrammed Parsons chair is en route to me, making me the Buffalo Bill of serial monogrammers. Okay, enough with the extended metaphor. But I did get a killer deal on the chair, which is very Southern-looking (and will be that much more so with a big M on it, sitting inside a diamond). This will be primarily an occasional chair in our den, but it will also look quite nice at the head of the dining room table.
Many home decorating projects are looming on the horizon. Forgive me, Father of My Children, but I am about to sin - multiple times. The evidence (AKA "billing statements") will be coming to you in the mail. But the hallway/boys' bathroom/den/etc. are ripe for re-dos. Also, I've been watching that strangely addicting "9 By Design" show on Bravo, and that Cortney Novogratz is quite the enabler. Watching her design spaces without rules gives me license to do the same. I knew we were kindred spirits after watching the first episode. Eight and a half months pregnant, she and husband Bob moved their family into temporary quarters en route to their latest design-build, and their first stop after dropping off the suitcases wasn't at the supermarket but, rather, was at the flea market to shop for tsotschkes. By that evening, they had whipped that space into shape and made it totally their own. They probably didn't have milk in the fridge, but hey - they had a giant found art piece that said "Tourists" with a bunch of candles clustered on it! That is SOOOOOOOOOOOOO me. When I spent the better part of a summer studying law in Salzburg, Austria, I brought two duffel bags, and half of one of them was filled with items to decorate my spartan quarters in my nunnery-turned-dormitory. My first shopping purchase upon arrival: a rug. My second: a poster from a local art gallery featuring a really disturbing-looking pottery Mozart (grotesque head, white wig, little legs coming out from under his chin).
I still have that poster in my office. Heck, yes, it's weird - but it's ME weird. Dare I say it, it's purposefully whimsical. And I have all sorts of crazy, crispy plans to inject similar whimsy into the long-neglected spaces within our old, imperfect, funky-and-oh-so-us home.
Stay tuned . . . .