Fantastic Ms. Fox

Paula Fox. I wouldn't mind looking like this when I'm older: smart, warm, and more than a bit intimidating.

A few posts back I mentioned picking up a Paula Fox book at the library, in a hurry, in one of those moments when I flip open the dust jacket, say "hmm, okay," and throw it in my bookbag, on top of 20-odd children's titles.
(Recurrent nightmare: I'm in a library, or sometimes a clothing store, and the clock is ticking down and I have to just make a choice, dammit, but I'm frozen in a paralysis of indecision.)

So, speaking of nightmares, that first book was The God of Nightmares.  Good stuff: New Orleans, prior to WWII, a young woman making her way among bohemians and drunks (or both) and a homosexual or two. The French Quarter feels like a small-town neighborhood, and everyone seems to know each other, and each other's business.  But it's not the plot, it's the characters, the razor-sharp outlines of people and of moments.

This spurred me onto Borrowed Finery, the author's memoir.  Considering the helluva childhood Ms. Fox endured, this book could easily have been twice as long. Born to a young couple, unwanted, the young Paula lives first with a kindly, cultured Congregational minister for her first five years.  At one point, her father shows up, deposits a box of children's books at the house, then leaves again.  After the age of five, young Paula kicks around between an apartment with her Cuban maternal grandmother, a sugar plantation in Cuba, and back to New York City, before her father brings her out to Los Angeles, where he is working as a Hollywood scriptwriter (this is back in the late 30s).  After only a couple of days, her mother pronounces, "either she goes, or I go."  And so Paula is shipped off to a stranger's house in Redlands, a citrus town about sixty miles east of L.A.

 
The central, terrible character in this spare, slim memoir is the mother.  She is neither explained nor psychoanalysed, as a younger writer, or one from our current generation, might feel tempted to do.  The reader is left to glean from between the lines that the beautiful, glamourous Elsie was simply immature and frankly envious of the few, small moments that Paula shares with her father. A bit of a spoiler here, but let's just say that Ms. Fox never reconciles with her mother.  Toward the end of her mother's life, the adult Paula pays a visit to Elsie, after not seeing her for literally decades.  I was floored by this telling detail:  Fox's "revulsion" (her word) for Elsie remains so strong, she opts to go outside to urinate in the yard, rather than sit on the toilet seat in her mother's house. Whew. 

Finally, I've just finished reading The Village By the Sea, a children's book. (Fox was an even more prolific author of children's books, and has won the Newbery Award.)  Despite, or maybe because it is a children's book, I was more deeply affected by this than the other two.  It is about a 10-year-old girl, Emma, who must go stay with distant relatives for two weeks while her father undergoes open-heart surgery.  Aunt Bea, her father's older half-sister, is already well-known as a "terror" to her parents, but Emma experiences her aunt's caustic personality first-hand. The terrible dread that Emma feels living in her aunt's home by the sea, a dread that flares up at every thought of walking past her aunt, or provoking another of her bitter comments, was so vivid to me, and so reminiscent of a similar time in my own life, that at one point I had to put the book down, as my eyes were filling with tears.

Of course, after reading her memoir, I can see how Fox's writing sensibilities would be uniquely tuned toward how adults can be baffling, hypocritical and downright terrifying to children.  After all, despite what children may sense or know, the adults wield all the power.

Now I have one of her back-in-print novels, Desperate Characters, winging its way to my doorstep, and I can't wait to read it.  In a funny twist, many of Fox's older novels are now back in print after Desperate Characters was re-discovered and championed by big-time author Jonathan Franzen. And I first mentioned discovering Paula Fox at the end of my post here, when I discussed reading Franzen's novel Freedom.  Not that any of it has a thing to do with me, but I still like those little moments of literary kismet.  The book world is a small world, after all.

Big Blue Blenko

Say it three times fast.  Look at this lovely.  I got it on a recent trip to Palm Springs, where we stayed at the Hotel California. We could check in any time we liked (after 3pm) and we could never leave (but had to come home anyway).

Our first night in town, we strolled though a little outdoor mall with a collection of vintage stores on the north end of the Palm Canyon shopping district.  I found the greatest little shop, called Bon Vivant. Loved it. The owner has a great collection of stuff...just so well curated, I wanted to pause and fondle it all.  He also had a beautiful collection of vintage Blenko glass pieces. They're like big shards of hard candy that you wanna lick. Or at least I do.

Photo from here.

Usually my husband sort of intimidates me into not spending when he's around. (I won't say he's cheap, but....)  However, after about ten minutes inside Bon Vivant, I knew I wasn't going to be able to leave empty-handed. Also, we were in town for a romantic anniversary getaway, so I was able to play that card.

Score.

Turns out that Bon Vivant and its collection of Blenko glass was mentioned in this April's issue of Martha Stewart Living.  Read all about that on the shop website, or visit their Facebook page, where I read how J.A., Jonathan Adler himself, is quoted as saying that this store has some of the best pieces at some of the best prices around. 

Well there ya go.  And that's why me and J.A. are so tight like that, see?

Read about the rest of my desert weekend here, over at my new-ish travel blog.  I'm still sorting it out over there, and trying to figure out how to write an informative post in less than 12 hours.  Sheesh.

Our Ikea Kitchen (Only 3 Years Late!)

No more being a tease, it's full-monty time.  Here it is: our Ikea kitchen with the Nexus yellow-brown cabinets.  It was completed back in May & June of 2008.  I can't believe we've lived with it for over three years now. 

Except for the granite installation, my husband did all of the work himself, all the way down from ripping out and installing drywall (apparently, the old ceramic tile backsplash did not want to leave), on up to screwing in every piece of cabinet hardware.  You can see a "Before" shot and some of the process here on this old post. (Note: he's not a contractor by trade. In fact, he's plays a mild-mannered computer geek by day.)

I live in a very typical, newer (11 years old) builder-grade home, and everything about the old kitchen was builder-grade.  We didn't change any of the architecture or tear down any walls...it's just a typical u-shaped kitchen. Except now we like it much, much better.

I remember this part as being the biggest pain in the ass: installing that narrow top cabinet above the fridge.  Oy.  I recall the full weight of it resting on my husband's head and shoulders as he tried to wrestle it into place.  Evidently, the width of the front of this niche was narrower than the back. Fun!  And no, we did not go out and buy a new Subzero fridge.  It was free. FREE.

My father-in-law is an installer and repair guy for high-end appliances, and this was a "second" that a client didn't want.  (It had a couple of scratches and a small ding.) He drove it down from Oregon for us. That kind of windfall never happens to us, but this time, it did. 

Some other shots, from the top:

We created the island by putting two base cabinets back-to-back.  The front of the island, facing the family room, stores kids homework and craft supplies. The back of the island has two deep drawers.  The island, with the granite slab, is heavy.  Standing right next to it, I can feel a slight depression in the laminate floor from its weight. 

My husband was able to link all the under-cabinet lighting together, so that I can flick all of them on & off with one switch. (As opposed to going down the line and doing them individually.)  

The lighting fixture is also Ikea (no longer available).  I didn't want to go "all Ikea," but I liked this fixure...it kinda reminds me of the Capri pendant from Jonathan Adler.   As for the cheap matchstick blinds...those were supposed to be a temporary solution, but you know how that goes. 

 I love, love, love the backsplash tiles from Susan Jablon Mosaics.  They are definitely the "jewelry" and bling of the kitchen.  I love the shimmer created by just walking across the room.  You can see more of the sample tile colors, and read about me geeking out on them, in this post.  (I still have all those lovely sample tiles...what to do with them?)

Another view...

And another view, of the sink

And one last view. The door leads to my tiny laundry room, and then onto the garage. And no...this long counter is NOT always this clean.  This is where old homework and junk mail goes to die.

A final word:  I know the funny nose-wrinkle that some people get when you say "it's from Ikea."  That's a long debate for another day: custom-built modern design vs. affordability for the great unwashed.   But I will say: we've lived with the kitchen for over three years now; these pictures were taken just a few months ago.  Everything has held up very well...including those awesome drawer-closing dampeners that let the drawers glide silently shut on their own.  So cool. And I haven't mentioned the cost yet -- but this was easily under $15K. 

I have two children, (now ages 6 and 9) who are not careful about anything, least of all how they treat a kitchen.  If I had to do it all again, I'd make some different choices (not all that thrilled with the stainless sink, wish we a double wall oven, etc.).  But this is from a person who rearranges furniture a few times a year, so what do you expect?

In the end, I am still thrilled to look at it here, and know that we made this happen, ourselves.  Yay us!

Tease

Deep drawer, on the island

 I am such a tease.  I'll let you look into my drawers, but not see much else.

I don't check my Blogger stats very often, but when I do, it's very clear to me that what The People want to see most here is my Ikea kitchen.

And people, I have been there. Sitting in front of the computer for hours and hours, trolling the interwebs looking for photos and inspiration of other Ikea kitchen projects. I understand.  It's a long process, the planning and choosing and measuring and buying and installing.  You need visual proof that it can be done, and that what you're choosing will look good.

My narrow cabinet for cookie sheets and muffin pans. LOVE this.

Being the shameless tease that I am, I have mentioned in passing my kitchen a few times on the blog, long long ago.  You can read details & see some in-progress shots here and here.  These posts are easily my most viewed, hands down.  (Note that in both posts I link to a now-defunct page over on Ikea Fans; I never maintained my site when they did a re-vamp a couple years back. Sorry.)

Anyway.  So here is another teaser post. I promise, barring personal or natural disasters, to show you the whole thing on Friday.  No more teasing, no more close-ups of the part, but big wide shots of the whole.  I will be Giving the People What They Want:  my kitchen with the Nexus Yellow Brown Ikea cabinets.  Promise!

Ikea Stainless shelves.

Top of the Stairs: After

Back in February, I wrote about The Mess at the Top of the Stairs, my boring-beige-blah bookshelf moment that was the first thing anyone saw when coming upstairs.

That was then:


And this is now:

 Needless to say, I like this a whole lot better.   I don't remember the paint color, but it's by Behr and has a name like "Jamaica Bay" or something Caribbean. My inspiration was the photo below, but when it came down to it, I just didn't have the heart to paint up my old bureau.  It seemed a little more dignified to leave the wood as-is.

The mirror is old, but it's not an original Turner, or at least I don't think so.   I was happy to go from all-new, almost all-Ikea in the old version of this space, to almost entirely vintage in the new version.  The only thing I bought for this project was the paint; everything else is stuff I already owned and styled here.  The mirror is just propped against the wall, and along with the fan, it brings an Old Florida kind of vibe, which I like now, but will probably swap out as the seasons change.

Challenging to try to take shots of all this, without having my own reflection show up.

 Some well-loved old books.

 

 When was the last time you read a "zany" novel?  I confess to buying this for the cover alone, and have never read it.  But, I have seen the movie several times.  I used to think I loved it and considered it a must-do summer event, but after the last viewing, I realized that's it's really quite an awful, Puritanical morality tale.  I love watching the great Paula Prentiss, but want to smack her upside the head when she expects a marriage proposal after hanging out with affable old Jim Hutton for a weekend.  (And "hanging out" isn't some kind of euphemism: they really are just hanging out on the beach.) 

A better, more realistic-for-the-times morality tale, is A Summer Place.  Oh, now that's a good summer movie.  And it has some great interior set designs, to boot. AND, it features a house on the Carmel coast, built by Frank Lloyd Wright.

Image via here

See how I brought the conversation back to design there? Yes, I really am that slick.  

*I should note that the original post and "mess" actually refers to my desk, located over to the right of the bureau. This area has also been painted and much improved upon, but it wasn't quite ready for its close-up on the day I took these shots.

Lazy Summer Reading

Margarita, with obligatory summer toes

Summer is considered over now, in my neck of the woods, even though the temperature is just now really cranking up. All the kids in our district went back to school last week, so while we'll still have pool days and be wearing shorts for the next couple of months, “Summer 2011” as a concept is in the bag.

This summer was a lazy one. There were many, many days when the kids and I didn't get dressed and leave the house until the afternoon. When we did leave, our aspirations were low: a trip to the library, or Jamba Juice, or the discount movies. (We also spent a week in Arizona, but that was way back in early June...that was late spring, to be exact.)
I felt our laziness to be some failure of imagination and ambition on my part. Last summer, I had a big butcher-paper list attached to the kids art easel, full of ideas and plans. But in truth, this summer really was quite eventful, and featured a couple big rites of getting bigger: The kids playing at our nearby park all by themselves! Both kids swimming in pools without my help! My Monkey Girl getting her ears pierced!   Also, there was Scripps Aquarium in La Jolla, Girl Scout camp,  and my girl's immersion and total geek-out into the world of Harry Potter books. There was Monkey Boy, saving his allowance for a DSi, so he could quit pestering his sister to borrow hers. And various play dates and sleep overs and trips to a couple of new, modest water-parks around town. 

Monkeys, with complimentary apples at our pool cabana in Scottsdale

You get the idea. And where was I, in the midst of all this kid-centric activity? Reading scores of blogs while ignoring my own (ahem), blogs with lots of peaceful photos of coffee in pretty mugs and late-afternoon sunlight striking glasses of white wine, with bloggers waxing poetic about staying present, staying in the moment, holding onto every sweet drop of life.

Right. So when I wasn't feeling guilty from either reading too many blogs, or from the blogs themselves, I often avoided the kids and thinking about my life and cleaning the toilets by reading novels. Some were good, some were instantly forgettable (which is why I can't list them), and a couple were Big Novels. Novels in the grand tradition of the Great American Novel.

The first of these was Freedom, by Jonathan Franzen. This was the first of anything I've read by Franzen, who got famous after the The Corrections – and turning down Oprah's invitation to be on her show, after she'd selected the novel for her book club. Evidently, he's a serious writer. 

I really delved into Freedom, and found it was a good, involving read. Lots of commentary on the current culture through the interlocking fates of the characters, who are mostly all from one family. Also, in Patty, the wife and mother, he creates one of the most disagreeable, annoying, and yet ultimately fascinating female characters I've met in a long time. The only section of the book that slowed down for me was the long section dealing with the politics of coal mining and mountain top removal in Appalachia, and their role in the ethics crisis of another major character.   

And, I will say that Franzen's writing is really top-notch, specific and revealing. This was most evident when I moved onto the next book I attempted after Freedom, which was The Widower's Tale by Julia Glass.   I think some of the plot elements of her book felt too similar (a family saga, commentary on the liberal lifestyle and the push for gentrification, environmental activists, etc.)  Maybe I should try it again, as I really loved Glass's first novel, Three Junes.  But I gave up this novel after several chapters, feeling that the writing definitely suffered in comparison to Franzen's. 

 The other Big Novel of the summer was a re-reading of William Styron's Sophie's Choice. I had actually meant to re-read this last summer, but I wasn't able to get my hands on a copy. Shamefully, my local library doesn't carry anything of this late, great Southern writer's works, except a slim collection of military short stories that appeared much later in his career. So recently, in a used bookstore, I bought the mass paperback edition of the book, the same edition of the book I'd read way, way back when I was in junior high. It's kind of funny now to think of me reading this in junior high, because as mentioned, this is a Big Novel, with big themes about guilt and grief and passion and the Holocaust and sex and sex and sex. 

 Sex and sex, because the narrator, Stingo (not-so loosely based on Styron himself) is a young man from the South living in Brooklyn in the first years after World War II, and he's a very inexperienced and lonely and horny young man. And his first encounter with Sophie and her lover, Nathan, is when he's subjected to hearing their very loud and enthusiastic lovemaking in the room above his, in the boarding house where they all live during the fateful summer of the book.

Sophie's Choice is a wonderful book, not least because of the evocative descriptions of place, from 1940s New York places like Coney Island and Flatbush and, in Sophie's retelling, to pre-war Crakow, the Warsaw ghetto, and the terrible sights and smells of Auschwitz. It's also just a great story, a tragic one on many levels, and reading it decades later, as an adult and a mother, opened up new layers of the story to me.  Layers that I probably didn't quite appreciate when I first read this at thirteen or fourteen, and was likely just shocked to see the word cock repeated so often in book. (One joke from the book has stayed with me all these years: when non-native speaking Sophie refers to Stingo's dapper suit as a cocksucker, rather than a seersucker.)

So now the kids are back in their classrooms, and I'm blogging again, something I found too time-consuming and guilt-inducing (there's that word again)  with children sometimes literally at my feet, moaning aloud their boredom.

And I'm still reading; this time not a Big Novel, but a quiet little book that I'd never heard of, The God of Nightmares, by Paula Fox. This is heady good stuff here, about a diffident young woman who leaves her lonely home in upstate New York to live among a cast of artists, drunks and young people in the French Quarter in 1941. Sometimes (often) the best books are those desperate choices I make at the library, when nothing else I'm searching for can be found on the shelves (note again, dear Riverside County Library system, your grevious lack of the works of Mr. William Styron).