pre-wedding jitters..kind of

I took my daughter to ballet this morning, and upon my return was shocked to see a for sale sign leering at me on my front lawn - forgot about that bit. I feel a bit of the ole panic stations setting in and I am not really sure why. I am as nervous as crap, like I am staging an event or a wedding or some such theatrical performance where timing and atmosphere and all that was rehearsed must go according to plan or risk a bout of luke-warm reviews from potential ticket holders, or grumblings from the disgruntled guests who brought the expensive presents.

Speaking of staging, a friend offered to have the kids while the stager was here; she is here now. I asked her what I could do, but she shooed me away and told me to relax and make myself a cuppa. I must say, I feel entirely useless and don't really know what to do with myself (typical), so I thought I would blog instead. I could read a book I guess, but I don't think I could concentrate anyway. I promise I will post a piccie of the staged room in the next post.

I just hope the place sells quickly. We have been slaving away like who knows what trying to get this place looking like a vogue magazine on a TV week budget. I have ditched piles of stuff...one really doesn't need a whole lot to get on in this world, so why cart a whole lot of useless stuff around the globe only to have it sit there gathering dust readying itself for its next international voyage (God forbid).

Yesterday I stumbled upon a pile of suspicious looking folders. Upon opening them I found they were in fact my entire catalogue of school report cards from 1979-1990 (shudder). I remember my Mum giving them to me one time when she moved, but I don't think I have ever read them. Of course that led me to waste the next two hours as I scanned the horrors of my early academic history.

Actually it was a bit of an eye opener to read them all at once. There were some definite themes that perhaps should have been addressed: "struggles to comprehend written instructions", "extremely slow at working things out", "gets frustrated", "makes silly errors", day dreams", "needs to listen more carefully", "careless". I have long wondered if I am actually dyslexic, as such themes have continued to be issues for me - particularly the comprehension aspects. I tend to have a private panic attack whenever a timed written comprehension test is presented as part of a recruitment drive. Time and time again, this will be the part in the test that sees me exited from the program. But then again, what good is worrying about that now - the horse has bolted so to speak, and this is who I am - stick to what you are good at kiddo!

Simply Horrid

I love a good catalogue (please don't send me any...phew!).

No seriously, I do enjoy a quick flick through the catalogues that happen upon my doorstep; not your cheapo sales flyers, but the the magazine quality, glossy versions. Restoration Hardware is an example of the type of catalogue I am happy to ponder - not that I have ever bought anything from there, but they do send me a catalogue for my own perusal and entertainment all the same...how kind of them.

Yesterday, I received from the post office, no bills, no personal mail, no parcels - just advertising, bound together with a thick green rubber band, as if the post office were attempting to assist me with the inevitable bin file, by neatly bundling the documents most likely bound straight for the landfill. Having said that, I did release the band that secured the 5 or so flyers, just to make sure there wasn't anything of any great importance.

Among the clutch of papers was a flyer for a roof restoration company, a take-out menu to a local restaurant, McDonald's coupons, and an envelope containing a collection of "specials" from a variety of retailers. The only thing worth affording a second glance was The Home Depot's Dream Book.

The Dream Book is quite obviously aimed at women, with its little decorator knick knacks, furniture and soft furnishings adorning its shimmering pages. Personally I would rather have all my teeth extracted than venture into The Home Depot and hardware stores like it, especially if I have the kids in tow.

Anyway, I was giving the catalogue a glance while eating my dinner last night; mentally jotting down items on my You Wish! List, when I turned the page (pg 23 if you were wondering) to an image that was really quiet disturbing. This first image at the top of this posting shows an entire room wall papered in this ghastly print.

This wall paper, if you hope to avoid it, is called Raven Glass, by Shand Kydd. Its volume really is enough to cause even the staunchest shabby chic enthusiast to tuck oneself up into the fetal position and rock back and forth while clutching a beige paint sample to their bosom, with an insane twitching about their left eye.

I don't know if you can see this picture well enough, but even the door is wall papered. The caption reads "Add baseboard at the bottom and turn a door into a secret passage." I think the more realistic caption should read, "For your own amusement, add a baseboard at the bottom of the door and watch your one night stand awaken to the horror of this overbearing room and grow increasingly panicked at the thought that he is trapped forever."

Still reeling from page 23, I decide to turn the page, only to find page 24, sporting the unthinkable - a wallpapered ceiling. Or as I like to call it - the bane of future renovator's lives.

The caption for this stroke of decorator genius reads: "Papering the ceiling instead of the walls makes a space more interesting and intimate", which is another way of saying - a point of contention and cramped. The caption should perhaps read "how to devalue your property in one easy step".

Now this next image is a corker, if you ask me. It was not from the Home Depot catalogue, but rather one of those amusing catalogues that mysteriously wind up on your doorstep, every so often.

I have never succeeded in my attempt to spot our area's distributor of said catalogues, which are mostly filled with items no one in their right mind would want or desperately need; and even if one does happen upon something worthy of mild consideration, the rest of the items tend to taint its overall impression, and one winds up dismissing the said item with a what was I thinking, "Naaaaaaah!"

Nevertheless, I included the "tree face", as I felt it would probably suit the garden of any home considering the previous two decorating tips.

Much to my relief, I have seen this item featured in the drop and run catalogues over the past year or so, and have never encountered a tree sporting "the face".

But, in reference to this item's description, I would like to know exactly what part of a large plastic face on a tree is "realistic". I do however, buy the line about your tree becoming "the talk of the neighbourhood", as people will likely come from miles around to stand in amazement and ask..."Why?" , while small children plead for their mothers to find an alternative route, rather than be made to walk past "the house with the scary tree ".