pomegranatesandpaper

Wednesday With Words

Don't you love to come up with titles for these postings? Sometimes, I don't know the title until I write it. Kind of like I don't know what day I am going to have until it's over.

I've been silent lately, not out of any real issues other than jam-packed days and exhausted nights. We are busy with all things TW, which include for us getting the cottage ready for the season. Time to spruce up, clean, paint, replace pillow covers, shower curtain liners, clean out the gutters, rip out sinks, and buy fabulous cheap new rugs at The Christmas Tree Shop.

Yes, I said rip out sinks.

 

Wouldn't you if your's looked like this:

 

 

See, in my mind, The Cottage looks like this:

 

 

At Micalenagela would say, "Totes Adorbs".

[I have absolutely no idea where I got this photo from except I found it in my saved files. My biggest apologies to the photographer and the homeowner and I hope you are both assuaged by the fact that it quite possible the most adorable home I have ever seen and just what I want The Cottage to look like. Someday.]

Getting to that point is not a job for one person - not even one woman!

When it is time to rip out plumbing fixtures, who to call but a young person with brains, brawn, and lots of power tools:

 

 

Notice how tiny the second bath is. It's really a "bathlette". No one likes to use that shower because they say it is like showering in a coffin. I say, hah! I grew up without a shower and we had to either take a bath or sit in the tub with a hose, that was about two feet long and attached to the faucet with a rubber band that would fly off and shoot water around the room while you were using it, or wash your hair by bending over the kitchen sink.

Can you imagine my two girls doing that?

So they can all just shower like vampires. Why do you need a light to shower? You should know your body parts by hand by now!

Anyway.

Mystery Man cleared his schedule when he was told he'd finally have a chance to use scary saws and soldering irons and he drove us up to the cape as he is a full service plumbing technician.

So not only did we get someone who wasn't afraid to do this,

 

 

we also got to spend some quality time with him and discuss his 5-year plan and his 10-year plan, and yes, he has both. He's an amazing kid. An exact combination of his father (You have to have a good steady job to fund your dreams; you just can't go wandering all over the world) and his mother (I'm working to pay the bills and pursuing my dream at night). Difference is that he is 25 years old and already knows what his dream is and is actively working on it daily.

 

Of course, he didn't change out two sinks all by himself, he had a helper:

 

 

And his father was The Supervisor and Master Craftsman, fine tuning the installation of the faucets and giving advice on how to rip out the other sink without damaging all the 30 year old powder blue tiles.

 

 

The "after" is not that impressive yet:

 

 

It's a tad small - we think we may have bought a sink made for a kindergarten classroom. You'd be surprised how hard it is to find a selection of corner sinks. And if you are looking for one with a cabinet, get ready to float a bond. 

Not to despair, the paint will get touched up and I'll make a pretty skirt. In the meantime, we are internet searching for a larger sink that doesn't cost a fortune.

The larger bath had So Many Problems that I never got in there to take a photos. Picture this: faux marble gray laminate; powder blue sink with enamel worn off; stainless steel faucets so corroded that they looked pitted; and a metal trim around the back and side splashes that was installed UNDER the tile.

Ta-Da:

 

 

It's not quite Carerra marble atop an antique dresser, but until we can rehab the bathrooms, this is so nice and clean. Notice the darling tile and built in soap and toothbrush holders. Vintage midcentury - that's what I'm selling! Also notice the gap between the wall and the top: nothing in this house is plumb.It will be addressed verily.

So we didn't get to Provincetown to see that 40 Right Whales that were swimming unprecedently off Race Point; but we did get to troll the aisles of the Hyannis Home Depot, which has more customer help than every Home Depot in New York combined and, it appears, have all been programmed - or may be robotic - to be extraordinarily helpful and cheerful.

What say ye local Home Depot peeps? You mean you are NOT supposed to say you'll be right back and then disappear for two hours "in the back", leaving us abandoned with half a toilet that we are lugging from aisle to aisle in order to find the part that prevents the water from leaking out the underside thingamajig?

MM worked extraordinarily hard and without complaining. We fed him a lobster roll AND a steamed lobster AND a moon pie, but alas, Sundae School hasn't opened for the season yet so we owe him a hot fudge sundae.

I took down the Christmas tree (let the record reflect that Mr. Pom and both girls have been there over the winter and yet, the tree, wreath, and other decorations, still stood.)

If only we hadn't been stuck on the highway leaving Cape Cod for TWO hours and then had another FOUR hours home, I might have persuaded MM to come back again soon. Eh, by summer he'll have forgotten and he'll make the trip back. And he made it home in time to pick his Fantasy Baseball Team so all is right with the world.

 

WAS "Sunday Morning" But My Phone Ate My Pictures.

Sunday morning, I had planned to jump out and go back into the city this morning. Spring is here in two more days but in New York the sun already has returned and caused the daffodils to unfurl and the trees to bud and the farmers' market to be full of branches of forsythia, cherry, and pussy willow.

[Imagine highly detailed and cleverly cropped close ups of said branches.]

Saturday, the city was all lovely promise as we strolled without coats and got lost in the bustle of Union Square's market that was filled with people scurrying to bring home  armloads of spring.

[insert macro shots of varied and amazing tulips of all colors]

Tulips abounded - oh the varieties and colors! My favorite are the parrots, fringed and striated and absolutely frivolous, just like spring. I gave in to a nosegay of purple sweet peas and all the girls dipped in their noses for a sniff of their heavy scent. I put them by my bedside and as I tossed and turned last night from a sinus problem, their sweetness was lovely.

[insert tightly cropped bits and pieces of fabric that may or may not have been sneak peeks of The Bride's dress]

We were in the city for The Bride to have her first wedding gown fitting. It was quite a production to get us all there. Micalangela is on spring break and has 3 friends staying the week. This necessitated two cars, two drivers, two Iphones to give us directions, numerous travel cups of coffee, and whole wheat bread with egg sandwiches to fortify our early morning outing.

[imagine pic of the most amazing seafood linguine ever made and Maddy's look when she thought she would have to eat seafood still in the SHELLS in order not to seem rude]

Friday night, we had wined and dined them on seafood that Mr. Pom and I whipped up in the kitchen, a mini-faux Christmas Eve whirlwind of a hasty trip to Whole Foods on being informed that the kids were home from Cape Cod, and a riotous use of every pot and pan to steam mussels, clams, poach tilapia, and sauté shrimp in garlic, butter, and white wine. The kids followed it up with frozen yogurt from their favorite place. The grown ups went to bed early due to the wine.

[insert gratuitous shots of OTHER brides' dresses and over-the-top Nina Panina corseted mannequins. ]

After Mr. Pom lost us on a crucial turn,  we arrived at Kleinfelds,  all stressed out and bushed and almost forgot why we were there. Her roommates, however,  were wide-eyed, especially when we realized they were in the middle of filming. We got to see a very thin blonde bombshell of a bride wearing an over the top heavily swagged ecru satin gown wiping her eyes as her friends and crew clapped when she said yes, to the dress. I wonder if ever gets old? Didn't for us.

 

By the time we found our way downstairs and our fitter, a lovely woman named Janet, pulled the silk curtain to allow The Bride to don the gown she has not seen in18 months, my heart was in my mouth as little murmurs of dissatisfaction had been registering all week: is it too this? or too that? What if? Should I have tried more? Is it too late?

And, I needed more caffeine and some food, stat.

[imagine my daughter's lovely face in the biggest smile I've ever seen]

So when Janet suddenly pulled back the curtain and The Bride was standing in her finery, we suddenly remembered why we were there. I felt my whole body relax and we all let out a "yay". The Bride was happy, so happy, and loved it, and so did we. She was a little suspect that I was not wiping away tears, but I was so relieved that she was happy, that instead of tears all I could do was grin from ear to ear and pump my fist in a "YES!"

Then the tedious part came, the pinning and the tucking and the hemming. We watched as other brides came into the fitting rooms and were similarly stitched up, bustled, nipped, and tucked. We were bemused by a groom who had wandered off with an espensive brooch in hand and the saleswoman was trying to calmly ask the bride to call him as her job would be on the line should he ..err, wander off too far. We were giddy when the alterations manager, a lovely accented older woman familiar from the show, poked her head in and said hello, you look lovely! to the bride.

[insert pic of Mr. Pom sulking on a couch when told he missed her.]

We looked at shoes covered in peau de soie, satin, crystals, ribbons, and gold. We decided the corset gowns were really just ridiculous, and were alarmed that the the trend seemed to be more and more layers of lacy fussiness, swags, furbelows, and draping, judging by the mannequins with the prime real estate around the waiting room.

[imagine photos of these gorgeously adorned shoes that looked like torture chambers for da feet]

Our bride, well she was the most stunning and tasteful of them all, in her extremely divine gown of which I cannot give you even a syllable of description....

[insert photo of armoire filled with crisp, gingham checked shirts and very preppy ties, then cut away to Mr. Pom with his hands around The Bride's neck as this is the eleventy million time she's changed her mind from tuxes to suits to back again and Time Is Running OUT!!!]

The Bride decided, after viewing a stunning hand-stitched gray suit in the men's section,  that the groomsmen and fathers should wear suits not tuxes (causing Mr. Pom and later at home, the groom, to despair and me to become very anxious because it only two months away and they have nothing and now need to order suits, matching suits, suits that will need to have many fittings??). Hard to blame her, though,  since they had cleverly paired the suit with an array of striped and gingham-checked shirts with paisley ties, all in blues and greens and purples and as prepped out for spring as possible and thus, near to our hearts

Best to stay out of all bridal stores starting now!

That will be hard to do since there are more fittings to go.

[insert and I am not kidding about thirty pics of chocolate roosters, pigs, sunflowers, fish, giant bunnies, chocolate bark, chocolate cookies, chocolate drinks]

After a wonderful lunch, we traipsed to DUMBO for the bridesmaids' fittings. It was such a twisty, torturous trip that we had to fortify ourselves at Jacques Torres's chocolate shop before we could do one more blessed thing. It was a smart move to take that break since we discovered that one gown had to be returned as it had a defective waist, and another had to be "boned" because it was not hanging properly. The Bride could not find a veil that was short enough for her petite stature and we selected a style for the seamstress to create and be picked up later on. I know I could have whipped up the veil myself and saved us probably 75% of the cost,  but best to allow the professionals to tweak to the bride's satisfaction than the MOB, who still hasn't found a wrap/shrug to cover the batwings that she doesn't want swinging into anyone's face as she dances.

In all, we are exhausted. Trying to get Micalangela and friends up and out for the drive back to school. Nearing noon and all are asleep, which is not surprising since they went BACK into the city after 9 last night and didn't return until 3:00, whilst I paced and called to find they'd missed the next-to-last train.

[insert pic of Mrs. Pom slugging on the bed all day]

So my trip to The Frick is on hold; I have lost the diet to Jacque Torres chocolate chocolate chip cookies; a rare slice and a half of pizza; and a sinus inflammation from all the beauteous budding trees. I did clean up my studio and put away all the shower stuff. I do have a bunch of new books I am reading to tell you about. I do not have to make any more marathon meals since bagels are all that Pom B&B is serving this morning, and I may have to stay in my PJ's until a cappuccino calls my name around 3:00.

 [insert pic of purple sweat peas in a jadite vase on my night table. Oh wait. I can actually take that one again. Oh, why bother - use your imagination!]

 

 

We were near Union Square yes

All of Us

 

 

 

Micalengela's final photography project last term was this portrait of our family. She tortured us over Thanksgiving weekend, waiting until we were all overfed and dogtired and then took photos of our er, body parts at close range.

Talk about unwilling subjects! Who wants a camera lens up close and personal with your wattly neck, batwings, or crinkly eyes?

But look at what she wrought from our misshapen selves!

I was overwhelmed when I saw it. I can't stop looking at it. It is truly a mosaic of our lives, a complete capture of our personalities, our family dynamics, and of our separate but wholeness in this stage of our family life.

My favorites are the two dogs at top and bottom, keeping watch over the family and bringing up the rear with their goofiness. Or The Bride's hands. Or my stripey socks. Or MM's controversial Amish period.

Like most artists, after sweating through weeks over it, she's done with it and happy to have me take over and figure out where to hang it. We don't have a wall that it would fit on in our house except the stairs and the logistics are a little mind-boggling since I am not known for my ability to hang  plumb lines.

I'm thinking it should go in the cottage. The kids think renters will find it too intrusive. I think it might be just the thing to remind people to keep their feet off the furniture and not drink Hawaiian Punch on the sofa. Too much?

 

 

Surprise!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thursday Before The Storm, err... The Shower

Some days my cup runneth over.

 

Somedays they are so full that they slosh, spilling all over my pants and suede boots on the way to court and they I am Very Cranky.

What's a mother to do?

Yesterday, I spent the day glued to the computer, writing up reports, editing motions, and replying to emails. At lunch,  Micalangela sent me pics of off-campus apartments that cost a small fortune even with 4 girls (!) and pics of dresses she was trying on to wear to the shower or shoes she would like me to Zappo for pre-shower delivery; The Bride was texting questions regarding decor; a bakery was emailing me mock ups of bakery stuff that needed to be approved; a friend called to see if I was still alive while I should be calling her because her son is in the military in Afghanistan; and I was making a vet appointment for later afternoon for Bella Sera who was ailing.

Today, my kind boss gave me another day in the office instead of in court so I could further catch up on paperwork and I ended up flying out of there in the middle of the day due to a family medical emergency that turned out not to be a non-issue (thank you, Lord) and now I need to go to the hairdresser before Saturday because my hair has turned completely white.

 

But the crocuses are up! All purple and white and scattered like....crocuses across the lawn and garden.

And The Bride is receiving daily large and mysterious packages in  filled with pretty gifts for their pleasure and enjoyment.

I have rekindled my love affair with the glue gun, after some last minute Shower Stuff. Why did I ever lay you into a plastic coffin, my dear Gluey and bury you in the bowels of the art closet? All forgiven? You will rest forevermore in a place of prominence as I have remembered how much easier it is to plug in than use any one of a number of adhesives that do NOT adhere a calcium-based substance to a wood fiber-based substance. (How's that for throwing The Bride off the track??)

In the meanwhile, small yellow envelopes have been piling in through the mail slot each day as my travels through needlework sites on Etsy have gone far afield. What is more joyous than receiving lengths of perle cotton dyed the shades of the bay on a crystal clear July morning? Soon I hope to actually put needle to thread and actually stitch.

And oh, Mr. Pom, I am so hankering for a Cape visit. I can smell the sea, hear the slap of the waves, feel the wind off the ocean. I want to sit in my backyard and admire the stone wall that we will plant with all manners of bulbs. I want to see the fat buds of the mountain laurel just waiting for Memorial Day to burst into wedding celebration. I want to visit the herring run and watch Mother Nature's infinite miracles on display. I need to sit in the car with sleeping dogs in the back, Mr. Pom in the driver seat, a book in my lap, my journal open, a cup of coffee in hand, and stare at the bay.

Not for another two weeks!

I have a few things left to do shower-wise. I think it is sinking in that my oldest child is Getting Married. That little girl who couldn't pronounce her "l's" and once asked of my mother as she was looking through her purse, "What is that - a yipstick?"

Time enough in a few months for choruses of Sunrise, Sunset, for now I am trying to keep up with the number of dresses and shoes she has bought and returned for The Shower, The Rehearsal Dinner, The June Church Ceremony (later for dat), and keep my outfits on par with hers - ha ha - as if that will ever happen. All I have to say on that score is, Dress Barn, me loves you.

 

I will be back after Saturday. There may be some pictures of the shower, a few, one or two. Right - probably an album's worth.

 

 

While Otherwise Engaged

(all photos featured in this post are not our wedding prep, but are from StyleMePretty.com)

So much wedding fol de rol prep, and it is still almost 3 months away!

The shower is next week, however, so I am a tad busy. (Don't worry, The Bride knows the date, just not the venue.)

Yesterday, sister #2 and I closeted ourselves in my little art room and did all manner of things with ribbons and crepe paper.

 

 

Promise a lengthier post quite soon. Right now, I am very busy initiating a petition to ban all wedding websites, especially DIY wedding websites, from the Internet as being cruel and unusual punishment for innocent brides whose visions of individually-hand-lettered-invitations-printed-on-Venetian-marbelized-paper; vintage-silk-gowns-trimmed-with-hand-dyed-silk-from-1920's-French-purse-linings-found-in-an-abandoned-factory-on-the-Left-Bank; grandmas'-mason-jars-filled-with-lightening-bugs-from-every-city-their-family-every-lived-in-being-released-as-they-leave-the-ceremony; antique chemistry-tubes-of-hand-squeezed-lemonade-and-rose-petals-hanging-from-the-back-of-each-chair-placed-by-the-river-in-the-dell-where-their-fiance-proposed-on-their-hiking-trip-through-Scotland-where-the-ceremony-will-be-held; different-antique-plates-at-each-setting-surrounded-by-DIY-mercury-glass-votives-and-hand-embroidered-ribbons-hanging-from-chandeliers-repurposed-from-the-wagon-wheels-the-groom's-family-used-to-cross-the-prairie; wedding-cake-fondant-hand-tinted-from-grape-must-made-from-the-father-of-the-bride's-boutique-vineyard-on-a-secret-island-in-Boothbay-Harbor-and-flocked-with-gold-leaf-made-from-every-wedding-ring-in-family-history;edible-menus-printed-on-recycled-marzipan-rolled-by-cloistered-nuns-in-Florence;caviar-from-sturgeons-hand-raised-by-the-couple-and-corn-grown-on-their-Red-Hook-farmstead;to be followed by an-night-rockin'-dance-party-where-everyone-is-given-silk-pajamas-to-change-into-and-dance-to-The-Black-Keys-playing-and-angels-serenading;all-of-which-is-photographed-and-Instagramed-in-realtime-for-those-who-could-not-attend, is robbing young couples of their ability to say the simple words, "I do".

 

 

 

I'm just saying.