Kids are the best at improvising. Here, a couple of phonebooks and an old make-up case make perfect booster seats. Take that, Babies 'R Us!
I LOVE old make-up cases, or train cases, as some like to call them. Every time my Grandma visited us, I remember my grandfather hauling in their light blue hardside Samsonite luggage set on wheels, including the make-up case. I would always offer to carry up the make-up case, because then sometimes my grandma would let us play beauty shop with her.
These days, all my make-up fits into a tiny zippered pouch the size of a paperback book. I can't really feature myself getting so vain that I'd require that make space for all my beauty potions. Still, when I see make-up cases in thrift shops, I always pause to check them out. Usually they have really luxe features like satiny ruffled linings with mirrors, removable, compartment trays, and locks with little keys. So fancy!
These days, I like to shove magazines in 'em (especially nice for the your toity):
Or I use them to organize those aggravating little bits of toys my daughter is always perseverating over, like those ridiculously eensty Polly Pockets and Littlest Tiniest Weeniest Pet Shop - a pox on your wee little houses:
A while back, I discussed some decorating do's and don'ts.
In a shocking reversal, I have now renounced one of my don'ts.
Yes! It''s all true! I am a flip-flopping, flakey mind-changer when it comes to...window coverings.
(Long Rambling Aside: Please don't say "window treatments." The windows aren't looking at inkblot cards or doing affirmations in the mirror. Unless, of course, they've been subjected to Christopher Lowell for too long.)
For the last two weeks, it's been unbearably hot and my house does not have central air. Which is okay. We have a window unit in our bedroom for the unbearable nights but otherwise too much air conditioning gives me an ice cream headache.
So while I save energy and money without the a/c, to keep comfortable indoors, you really need curtains and currently my windows are all bare naked. This is because I don't know how to sew and because I hate pre-made curtains which always tend to look like these gems from the 1971 Sears catalog.
(Long Rambling Aside: Nobody makes curtains in the colors I want! I want a nice, bright green fabric for my living room curtains. Not sage green! Not forest green! Not lime-spring green! Bright green! Goddammit!)
Anyway, my kitchen window had some cafe curtains on clips covering the lower panes. This was nothing pretty, just an extra-wide dishcloth I'd attached to the rod, which let light (and heat) pour through the upper panes.
So it gets hotter than hell and I had to batten down the hatches and strategically run fans so I could stay comfortable working inside. After miserably washing dishes in my boiling-hot kitchen, I decided to ditch the cafe curtain. I hauled out one of my many vintage tableclothes and, as the French say, WALL-AH:
My kitchen was suddenly comfortable! The blue matches some other stuff not in the picture! I didn't spend any money or measure anything! Best of all, everything looks okay from the outside, which is the real test for window coverings. If the outside world can tell you've just hung up that Led Zepellin Houses of the Holy tapestry you won last year at the Corn Crib's Summer Fun Daze festival, well, then, decorating don'ts are the least of your problems.
People do unspeakable things in their bathrooms, not the least of which is often decorating, and not of the garish sort that you might think, as you see in this faboo Me Generation biff.
Sure, it's dated, but it's sassy and fun. What really barfs me out is stuff like this dreck. Please, would someone spread the word that geese wearing hats, rusty barn stars and phony wood signs selling apples are over? What the hell? It's like hiring John Ashcroft to be your interior decorator.
Anyway, in comparison with those kinds of God 'n Country, Patriot Act-themed possibilities, a little 1970's jazz is a breath of fresh air. The disco wall paper, the rust orange counter top - all that's missing is a bottle of Quaaludes and a coke-streaked hand mirror. When you consider what's normally going down in the can, maybe we could all use a little dazzle technology for distraction's sake, right?
I recently came up with a solution to two bathroom problems that plague me: lack of reading material and a place to safeguard such material. Having lived with males who tend to, shall we say, "splash" with wild abandon - were they even holding on to their ween? were they just smiling and spraying the area like it was the car wash? - I never really liked to read any magazines around the vicinity of the toilet, given their crunchy pages and proximity the plunger.
So, trolling about Savers,I found this:
Looks pretty innocuous, right? It matches the old-grandma gold-speckled counter in my bathroom and fits nicely on the back of the toity tank. La, la, la!
But check out my genius move:
Because the slot only accomodates a few magazines, there's no surfeit of mags, no tossing them about willy-nilly. So I have to change up the material quite often, which is good, because once I read the same issue of Sports Illustrated for about a month in a row. (Which proved to be a recipe for constipation and completely unadvisable.) Best yet, it would take some spectacular ween negligence to reach up that far, and the plunger would have to defy gravity to encroach upon my reading material, which now can be high-quality instead of junky catalogs that I didn't mind sacrificing to the Piss God.