Fight or Flight

I have to say that our kitchen was starting to look pretty great. Some counters were done, some cabinets were installed, we got new appliances and a new sink -- sucka was almost functional. But of course, it couldn't last. It is a fact of nature that all matter gravitates towards entropy, aka dastardly chaos, and why should our home renovations break the laws of physics? When we yanked out the first cabinets during Christmas, I would have choked on my own astonishment had I realized that redoing this kitchen would take so long. But like the great sage Paula Abdul once said, "You take two steps forward, I take two steps back."

Except, in our case, it often feels like we're two stepping up and down.

I'm pretty tired of this bizness, and have concocted a new plan to buy this house in a sweet part of northwest Austin:

You see, they spent two whole years renovating this 60's gem, which would mean NO MORE RENOVATIONS FOR ME. Plus, Miss Lakemoore Drive is 3500 sq ft, has a kidney shaped pool, sits on half an acre near Bull Creek, and features a built in freestanding fireplace that would rock my world. Literally. Momma like. To sweeten the deal, it listed at 859k but has been reduced to 799k, which makes it eminently almost not really affordable at all, but a girl can dream, right?

Well, what do you say? Who's with me? Co-op anyone?

Dear God, Please Let Everyone Like This Post

I've tried writing today's opening paragraph several times but keep erasing it.  Today's post is all about churches and church remodels and people tend to get a little touchy when you start chatting about the Lord. So, for the sake of maintaining readership (I love you all as though you were my very own children and I don't want to make any of my babies sad or angry) I'm gonna hop right to the holy slideshow.  

 If it were up to me, the designers of Qubus Studio would get a free pass to heaven for such excellent work on St. Bartholowmew's Church

Despite how lovely St. Bartholowmew's is, it's probably more likely that I will be found in a church that has been renovated into something else, like, say, a bookstore:

Selexyz Dominicanen in Maastricht, Netherlands, 4000 square feet of pure heaven.  See:

Isn't that cafe to die and ascend to the afterlife for?  Apparently, it's somewhat controversial and some folks don't like the cross table.  But, hey if we're gonna be cool with Luke 6:38 Roll Gum, then we gotta be cool with a cross table, right?

Since I tend to worship at the alter of what's for dinner, the White Rabbit Restaurant in singapore has me singing hallelujah 

Dining and reading in a defunct church sounds just fine, but I'm not so sure about living in one:

Of course, I probably wouldn't be too mad at the Lord above for blessing me with such lovely windows

So, what do you say, are you totes in love with the church remodels:

Or are you still trying to figure it all out?

Light intallation by Robert Stadler at the church of Saint Paul in Paris, 2007

A Simple Plan

A hundred years ago I wrote the last installment of our kitchen renovation saga. Surely you have been waiting with baited breath to see the finished product, and sadly ye must wait yet a while longer. Because my kitchen currently looks like this:

SIGH. No, that is not the inside of a messy snowglobe, that is indeed our humble kitchen, which is currently being worked over by the bandit twins, Hunny Bunny and Mattypants. Matty has been installing our soapstone counter for the past fews days, and it appears we are finally in the final stages (hooray!). But for now, I am trapped in the back room due to swirling drifts of dust and stinky epoxy. DOUBLE SIGH.

So, here I am, fantasizing about hotels again, and the crazy ass Faena Hotel in Buenos Aires, Argentina, is the latest to catch my gimlet eye:

Tacky, overwrought, and stuffed full of enough red velvet and marble to make Liberace blush? Yes, yes, and yes. Swoon. And the best part is the dining room...

Do you see the UNICORN HEADS? With evil ruby eyes? Sorry about all the yelling today, but the dust is getting to me. And then there are the unicorn heads, which obviously warrant a little extra screaming.

I may need some time in the spa, so I can chill the bleep out.

Afterward, I will catch the evening show with an ersatz Liza Minelli -- someone in drag would be most suitable -- and if s/he doesn't belt out "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," I may get stabby.

Then I would dine with 19 of my closest new friends on what would most assuredly be tiny portions of minuscule quail and midget greens, followed by a mandatory chocolate milkshake.

After drinking far too much wine (yes, I am preggers, but this is MY fantasy, ok?) I would fight my vertigo while staring at the hypnotic crystal bead thingie hanging over the stairwell.

Then HB and I would retire to our deluxe suite, where we would sit back to back in our matching chesterfield couches, enjoying our alone time together.

When alone time is over, we'll head for a relaxing bath in our bathroom, where a big bang explosion of carerra must have occurred in the not so distant past. I really don't know what to think about this... lots and lots and lots of marble? Check. Swan faucets? Check. Mirrored cabinet? Check. Vessel sinks? Yes, those, too. Oh hell, I'm just going to enjoy my bath. I'm not here to do inventory.

Night night time is when the magic happens. Sorry, I could provide details, but HB is a little shy. Oh, fine. After playing with the unicorns, sweating in the spa, eating a mini brace of quail, drinking far too much, and relaxing in the tub, we're just going to pass out. Cold.

I told you it was magical.