The Island of Misfit Toys

I once had a brilliant idea for Kuba cloth. It was frothy and delicious and I was sure it was going to be an eye-catching, breath taking, dazzling little piece of magic. I thought this so much that I actually called a dear friend 6,000 miles away in Lusaka, had her go to the market, sweat in the sun while haggling for the price, package the cloth and send it to me. 

When I finally got the fabric, I immediately went to work, but was shocked and amazed (and not in a good way) that Plan A didn't work.  Never one to be deterred, I went on to Plan B, which didn't work either.  To make a long story short, I  quickly passed through Plans C-G and was amazed at how little it took for those genius ideas to go to pot.

At this point though, I have an impending sense of dread as I realize that if I can't figure this out, this beautiful imported, hand-crafted fabric is going to end up on "The Island of Misfit Toys".

The 'Island of Misfit Toys' is that dark place in my house where things that once, but no longer have a place to be, go to gather dust and cobwebs.  Every now and then a piece finds its way back from the abyss.  But usually they just end up on Craig'sList.  Thankfully, this story has a happy ending.

And I have a happy landing.

Deuces!

Funky I.

Powder Room 2.0-This is the remix.

You know how sometimes you really think you've got it going on?  You know, like your swag is real deep and you have really done the damn thing?  But then, like finding a picture of yourself from the 90's and wondering what the hell you were going thru to make you wear something so ridiculous, you realize that...mmmm, maybe not. Well that's what happened here.  I threw up some wallpaper, changed the mirror, the fixtures and even put up little do-dads. I was actually quite pleased with myself, thinking I had done a good job and the room was fabulous as it was. Apparently not.

On a recent shopping excursion Diva Queen B. and I got in to a friendly debate about whether you could actually find anything in a particular store (that shall remain nameless) that would ever be nice enough to go in your house. Her position was that it was like 7-Up--never had it, never will.  Mine was that there were absolutely some finds worth having and I pointed to the exact candle holders that I bought and had put in the powder room as an example. Diva got that "let me bring you back" stance and not so subtly informed me that I had gone off track with the look. You see, those candle holders I was so proud of said nothing about elegance or refinement and even though they were OK--they, not being elegant or refined, did not belong there.

...so now I'm gut punched, having lost the logical argument and having to admit when she's right.  Dang I hate that.  But now the wheels are turning and my birds (creative outbursts which fly and flutter without warning) went 100MPH in the other direction.  This is what I came up with:

The Powder Room on LaFayette Street-all in black and gold, with just a touch of mint...it reminds me a little of old New Orleans.

I think I finally got it right this time.

Deuces!

Funky I.

Laundry Rooms Need Love Too

This space was a source of great debate. In my mind, something had to be done. It was just so nondescript and blah. It almost looked like it didn't belong in this house, and I knew it would bother me every time I opened the doors.

Others, who shall remain nameless (but not initial-less D.Q.B.) , felt like it was fine the way that it was and needed no adjustment. It's just a laundry room for goodness sakes.

But as much as I hate to do laundry, to do it in an ugly space would have been a spirit killer and a reason to procrastinate with that chore (as if I really need a reason). Additionally, there was no storage and no counter space--where or where would I fold my clothes?? I was advised (D.Q.B.) to fold them on the bed like every other woman in America. But I feel like there should be a place for everything and that everything belongs in its place. Clothes piled high on my bed waiting to be folded was not the right answer.

While mulling this situation over, we tried the pedestals that came with these new fangled washer/dryers. Even though they provided some storage, they seemed freakishly high...so after some sheepish begging to undo what had just been done, the pedestals were removed, packed up and returned to the store (Thanks Uncle Milty).

Instead, we added a counter top and overhead cabinets. Luckily because of the high ceilings, there was plenty of space without it being over crowded.


We decided to finish it off with a tiled workspace and back splash. My heart's desire would have been to do it all in the glass mosaic tile, but while beautiful, it was ridiculously expensive. We adjusted fire and came up with a way to incorporate the beauty of the glass tile and remain within budget, using plain with tiles and the mosaics as accents.


It's still just a laundry room and I still hate doing laundry, but at least now when I open the doors it invites me to do that which I hate doing.



I've reached a conclusion: Laundry rooms need love too!

Deuces!

Funky I.

Better Bare

They say kitchens and bathrooms sell houses and I can say this kitchen certainly sold me. I loved the cabinets, counter tops and the way it was so open and flowing to both the living room and dining room. I really, really, really didn't have to do anything to this space.

**However, please note the counter stools now so you can feel me later**

So, I added a few nick-knacks, small appliances and accessories to personalize it a bit and make it functional, but not much beyond that.

...but there is (are) still something (some things) missing.

No counter/bar stools!!! This is a critical point since there's no eat-in kitchen. That means we stand for our meals--and not for ovation. It's been a 2-yr quest--I think I've been on every website portal and hit every store in the city, endlessly clicking or driving around and still, I got nothin'.

Conceivably, one could furnish the space for convenience with a couple of inexpensive filler items. Sadly, I'm missing the gene for filler items so I decided to leave the space empty until that mystical, magical moment when the heavens will open up and the perfect seating will enter my life.

It's a shame about our current stand-up dining posture, but I'd rather it be naked and bare rather than not quite right. Feel me?

Deuces!

Funky I.

Powder Room Blues

Even houses with good bones have problem areas. To give credit to the designers and decorators of this space, they made some bold and rather fabulous paint choices. The red in the dining room and the Spice or Pumpkin in the Master Bedroom are bold, daring and absolutely beautiful.

But then it all went terribly wrong.

For real dawg? I mean really, there are just no other words.

When my realtor sent me these pictures I told her that I could work with every color in the house except the black stripes in the powder room, which she corrected as dark navy blue and not black. Well alrighty then, I stand corrected. But black or blue, it was still an ugly as 'H-word', two-toned, striped mess and needed to be addressed.

When I showed these pics to my Granny telling her that this space would be the very first one that I would deal with, she told me to consider wallpaper. Immediately I had visions of ghastly 70's wallpaper with velvet insets. My palms got sweaty and my throat got dry at the thought and I told her that, "No offense, but wallpaper is really not my thing." And for that, I owe my old, wise Granny an apology. Out and about one day, I spotted an elegant and refined paisley scrolled pattern in black and gold. Wallpaper here I come! I'm a do it yourself-er because I like to see the work of my hands, but I caution you that hanging wall paper is no joke. Several days, multiple re-starts (cause you have to make sure the patterns match and who knew that walls are not perfectly angled?) one pulled shoulder and a considerable amount of ice and heat packs later, I was done. Uncle Milty put up crown molding so that it would be consistent with the rest of the house, I found a more complimentary mirror, we changed all the fixtures and hung a few knick-knacks and voila:

Powder Room Blues no more.

Deuces!

Funky I.

You gotta know when to hold 'em...

(me, probably singing out of tune) ...know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, know when to run...uh huh. Just a little classic Kenny Rogers to illustrate a point. I mean, I'm all for do it yourself, but at some point you have to realize when you're out of your depth. That's kinda what happened with my curtains. Had I not listened, it could've been a different title to this post, like "When Disaster Strikes".

Luckily Diva Queen B, who is sometimes wise beyond her years, as gently as she could, reminded me about how long it took me to finish those darned benches and how it would indeed be fool hardy to attempt to make perfectly tailored grommet curtains whose flaws could neither be hidden or amended in any way once the fabric was cut. She really didn't say all that, she just reminded me how much fabric costs and how molded I would be if they weren't right...and she wasn't all that gentle either.

Curtains kinda finish a room, so that was one of the last things to do in that space. Until then, my windows wore floods.

Sad, right? But at least it's better than hanging sheets.

We wanted a pop of unexpected and dazzling color. The idea was to choose something that would pick up the color in the benches--it was a bold choice since I already had so many reds, browns and oranges going on. But the thing about it is, no matter how wild it might seem, if you feel it in your gut, then it's gonna be right for you. Anyway, it took many moons and many discarded swatches before we found the perfect pop of blue--or for ya'll who are real serious and precise about your colors, it's Azure.

Kudos to David from Midas Fabrics who came on a Sunday to hang my curtains and make me happy.

Thank goodness for gut feelings.

Deuces!

Funky I.

Don't Try This at Home

This is not for the faint of heart. There is nothing conventional or ordinary goin' here so take your heart pills and hold on.

This is the one room that had a concept life right from the beginning: Manhattan-African Chic. The mission was to create a background that would support the concept, as well as be functional, dynamic, and most of all, it had to be funky.

So you see the problem when you look at the flick. Does this really say anything to you about Manhattan-African Chic?

It was respectable but non-descript and it most assuredly had to go.

So here's what happened. Everything got gutted and torn out. As Katt Williams would say, "Ev-a-re thang?" Yes my people, Ev-a-re thang: the mantle, the marble surround and every bit of that God awful cabinet-framing and all. It was a complete deconstruction. And although this is what I thought I wanted, I was a little traumatized to see my new space looking like that and I walked around for several weeks thinking, "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time." Trust and believe, it was the hottest of messes.




















And then my good ole Uncle Milty, contractor extraordinaire and my good friend, did his thing. I'm not gonna lie, we had a few setbacks and re-routes. We had to do a lot of problem solving and design modification along the way whenever I'd get another bright idea that would keep his list growing. But then one day, the sanding was done, the stain was on, the walls had been painted, the shelves, complete with spot lighting, were complete, the storage drawers and TV niche were done and dammit we had a pretty good looking wall unit! The colors and finishes mirrored the kitchen in texture and color; the lights gave great ambiance; the lighter color on the walls was a better flow with the rest of the house and (Yes Halle-lu-yar!) the sliding doors hid the TV. Daps to Uncle Milty.

Now after all this, we three, Diva Queen B., Uncle Milty and I took a collective deep sigh, sat back, put on some good music, had some food and a couple of beers and enjoyed the view. Shoot, we were so please with ourselves that we even turned on the fireplace. That was right up until I voiced a horrible realization. I had absolutely no idea how I was going to dress the space. Now see, that's a problem. Imagine, all that work and you could still mess it up if you've got too many or the wrong things going on. In the midst of my worri'ations, Diva Queen B. got up and went to work. She gave me and Uncle Milty (who didn't give a hoot about my worri'ations because he had just worked all day and was glad to be sitting down) a lesson on triangles, groupings and how the eye must dance. What could I do but watch? Ten minutes later we had fantabulousness.




And that's why she's my main apple scrapple.

Deuces!

Funky I.