Of Windows & Dreams

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One of my favorite things to do at night is look into people's windows as we're driving by their houses. I like to see how they've decorated, the color of their walls, what they're watching on TV, or in the case of our neighbor, gawk at their oversize black-lit aquarium that takes up the entire front room. (It casts a purple glow all over their front porch and lawn)

You can learn so much by peering into someones windows, but don't you think?

And this is probably the reason why I make sure all our windows are securely covered the moment the sun goes down.  You know, there are weirdos like me out there that like to look inside.

On a completely unrelated note, I had the most glorious of dreams last night. I slept better than I have in weeks! I woke up refreshed and happy! Can you even guess what dream brought such peace and rightness to my early morning?

Well, I shall tell you.

I dreamed all night long that I was wandering the aisles of a giant warehouse/thrift store that had the most wonderful old things I ever could imagine! I even had one of those giant roller pallets that they have at Costco and it was loaded with cool old lamps and dressers and a tiny porcelain tea set from Venice. I even came across the best collection of milk glass salt and pepper shakers and was trying hard to decide which set to buy.  The very best part about it all was that there was no one else shopping but me and my dad. *sigh* If only it hadn't been a dream...  those table lamps would be perfect in my family room.

Neither Heaven-Sent nor Genius

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The terrible thing about having an exceptionally comfortable bed is having to leave it every morning.  If it were up to me, I would not have left my bed this morning.  I would still be stuffed between cotton sheets and down comforter dreaming that I was, in fact, both a contestant and model on Project Runway.  It was in this dream that I dreamed up the loveliest of orange skirts made of giant pieced fabric circles.  I'm pretty sure it would've fit in Michael C.'s collection perfectly.  But then again, he was in the bottom three, so maybe that wouldn't have been such a good idea.

When I first woke up I thought that the skirt of my dreams must have been some kind of heaven-sent vision of things to come.  "I must make that skirt, it's genius!" I thought emphatically to myself.  And now, hours later, I'm remembering exactly what I dreamed up and realizing that it is neither heaven-sent nor genius in any way (except, perhaps, for the color).  But, then again, I would never in a million years be a contestant or model on Project Runway so I guess it all works out in the end.

Of Genes, Chairs, and New Best Friends

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 Somewhere in my DNA I have been programmed to believe I can and should do everything on my own.  (stubborn, maybe?)  Thanks to the internet wonder Google, I've come to think I can do-it-myself through just about anything. (Thanks Google!) Everything from homemade ganache to reupholstering furniture. 

Ah, yes.  The chair.

 

Have you not heard enough about the chair yet?  No?  Okay.  We can talk some more about the chair.

The chair who's bits and pieces are scattered all over the family room (yes I have a sewing room but how can I focus my creative energy without the TV in the background?). 

The chair for which I bought exactly 3 yards too much fabric. 

The chair which once seemed so cheap and easy to reupholster myself but is turning into a why-didn't-I-just-pay-someone-else-to-do-this-for-me experience. 

But it's all about the experience though, isn't it? 

And all those things I've learned along the way? 

And the girlish squeal that escaped my lips whilst gallivanting through the fabric store? 

Yes, that's what it's all about.

It's also about the Kyle reminding me three times in a one hour period to be sure there are no leftover chair staples hiding in the carpet.  To which I respond, "Duh!  I'm not an idiot."  And then a few minutes later I kneel on a staple.

It's also about the sense of personal satisfaction and internal roaring of feminine power that one experiences when one successfully sews a 40 year-old zipper into a new seat cushion.  And let me tell you, it is beautiful.  One of my proudest moments, I might add.

At any rate, my house may be in shambles, my laundry neglected, and my husband hungry, but by golly I'm going to finish this chair, so help me!
(But does anyone ever say "by golly" anymore?) 

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On a somewhat unrelated note, I had the happiest dream last night that I was remodeling an old house with Claire, you know the blonde from Modern Family?  (I love her TV house)  We were the best of friends and she shopped with me as I scored a few dozen vintage tablecloths at my favorite local thrift store.  After all, what are dreams good for if you can't dream about thrifting with your best friend TV star?

Gentlemen Have Large Bellies

I don't recall much from last night's slumbering, but I do remember Kyle trying adamately to convince me that gentlemen have large bellies.  Not the strangest of dreams I've had, for sure, but I've not been able to forget it either.

When I remember bits and pieces of my dreams, I usually look them up in a dream dictionary to find any hidden meanings I should be aware of.  And what do you know?  There's nothing about gentlemen with large bellies.  Anyone care to interpret?

Kyle must be getting used to me telling him of my weird dreams (like the one where a caterpillar crawled up my nose to spin silk or the one where I was fishing for life-size dolls with giant rope while dancing to avoid capture from the royal army) but he still gives me the "you are so strange" look everytime I relay the details of my previous night's dreaming.  I guess it will just have to be one of those things he'll never really understand.

But why do I dream of such strangeness?  Did I eat too late last night?  Do I have an exceptionally advanced imagination?  Maybe I was running a fever?  I may never know for sure... but whatever the reason, I have been left on my own to ponder the significance of a portly gentleman.