When Did The Recession Start for You?

This past weekend, my friends and I worked in the yard. As I was teetering on my ladder cleaning the awning over my front door, I remembered . . . I used to have this cleaned.

Once a year, in the spring, I'd get a call from Summerday Awning Service asking me if I'd like to make an appointment to have my awning cleaned. I always said "yes." I mean really, who wouldn't want to do business with a company called "Summerday?" I asked her once if that was just the inspired choice for the name of their awning service business or their real name.

"Yes, it's our real name." Genius.

I want to say it was in 2008 when I got a call from Summerday Awning to set up my annual cleaning that everything changed. I paused. No, I thought. I know it's only $100 but . . . it's a luxury now and I can't afford it. I really need to be mindful of every penny.

I said "no." I must have given her an excuse, but the gist was still ~ NO.

I've thought of Summerday Awning many times over the years hoping they were still in business and that they didn't have too many customers like me saying "no" while they are tap dancing as fast as they can in this economy.

When I talk with friends about when I thought the recession started, I always think of the day I said "no" to Summerday Awning Service. That is when it became crystal clear that I needed to change my spending habits. I think of the toll this downturn (read "depression") has had on small companies around here. People who work hard to grow their businesses but just don't have the resources to withstand the economic uncertainties swirling around. From customers rethinking their expenditures to banks tightening their lending guidelines, small companies have suffered greatly.

The day I'll know this economic mess is over? When I can say "yes" to Summerday Awning Service.

So, to all the Summerdays of the world ~ A Cheer! Here's to your courage, vision and fortitude. It's really you and the tens of thousands like you that give me hope for the future of the country.

Such a Lovely Word ~ Spring! Oh, and . . . Cleaning

This was such a lovely weekend in Seattle. Warm. Sunny.

S*P*R*I*N*G

'Course the thing about spring is the increased light and ~ what the hell! Cobwebs everywhere. Dust. Uck. I guess that's why it's call Spring Cleaning.

On Saturday morning, I decided to tackle the cupboard about my stove. Now, the thing about my kitchen is it's small. I like it very much, but, I don't kid myself. It's minuscule.

When I "remodeled" my kitchen several years ago, I clad the rift cut oak with bead board, replaced the doors of the cupboard above my stove with an old window with true divided lights. Luckily, it was exactly the size of the original doors. Popped right in.

Then, I painted the whole shootin' match the perfect "white." I had this romantic idea of having an interesting display cabinet in my kitchen. After I'd loaded up the cupboard, I realized it was missing visual interest. The cupboard holds my every day dinner dishes. While I'm very fond of celadon, there wasn't enough going on. Dullsville. What it needed? Flavour, please!

Which brings me to the beautiful solution. One of the things one buys when traveling in Italy is a calendar from the little kiosk in Piazza del Duomo. Of course, what do you do with that calendar when the year is up? The images are way too pretty to end up in the recycle bin. Mine ended up in my plan file.

While rummaging around for inspiration, I found my old calendar with botanical images of fruits. Perfect. I lined the entire interior of the cabinet with brown shopping bags turned inside out. Pawing through all my craft supplies in my studio shop which I laughingly call "The Well of Despair," I assembled all my half empty jars of matte medium, my brayer, sharp scissors and got to work.


I deckled the edges of the calendar pages and cut individual fruits to overlay the pages. When I was finished, it did everything I wanted it to do. It was visually interesting, beautiful, and utterly romantic. Best of all, my celadon plates coupled with oxblood porcelain made a show-stopping picture.


I covered the spice shelf with entry tickets and pensione bills from the places we visited and stayed during our trip. Now, when I pull out the sage or the marjoram, I'm reminded of that wonderful life-changing trip my sons and I had.

  

 

Friendly, beautiful, romantic and exactly what I had in mind.

Home from the Hospital

Since last September, the daughter of my friend Sally has been in Children's Hospital in Seattle. After nearly five years in remission from leukemia, she was ill again. God, it's been a terrifying seven months. She was not eligible for a bone marrow transplant. Her options were limited.

In January, it was decided she might be a good candidate for a cord blood transplant. It's been an emotional and physical roller coaster for sixty days. Two other children on her floor underwent cord blood transplant at the same time as MEB. One is dying and the other is suffering hideous side effects. MEB's course has been grueling, painful and scary, but she is making progress, slowly.

I got a call from her a couple of weeks ago asking me for a "design consult."

Now, the thing I learned when my husband died is that people want to help. And, they have no idea what would be helpful, so often, they just wait to be told what to do.  After Rick died, Sally called to see how I was doing. I was walking around slack-jawed and hollow eyed. How was I doing? Who knew? Certainly not me.

"You know," I said. "It's bad enough my husband is dead but my house is a filthy disgusting mess."

"I'll send Maria right over."

Last October, I received a similar call from Sally. "It's bad enough my daughter is in Children's but the tile is falling off the walls in my shower. Can you help?"

Nothing like giving someone something they can do. We finished her bathroom by Thanksgiving.

During our phone call, MEB said she wanted a new bedroom. She wanted it Tiffany box blue and yellow. Now, MEB has the smallest bedroom known to man. Less than 10' x 10'. And in that space she has a double bed and a closet that sticks out 21". You'd hit your head on the opposite wall if you bent over to sneeze. I mean small ~ coupled with a large list of what MEB wanted in her new room, I had my doubts.

But, undeterred and armed with my Tiffany box and a tote of paint samples, I went to Children's. Now, those of you that know, there is a thing called "dye lot". That means unless that fabric, that paint, that carpet, that wall covering comes from the same run, the colours will vary. So, my Tiffany box was slightly different than her Tiffany box blue.

Quelle surprise!

Of course, when you are sick and feel like hell, every potential setback feels like a catastrophe. After much handholding, "don't worry," "you can have exactly what you want," "let me take care of this for you," I started to work.

By the end of the week ~ success! A new bedroom for MEB and a pass from Children's so she can come home for a while. Nothing like sleeping in your own bed for a new lease on life.