Monthly Archives: December 2020

Every Ending is a New Beginning

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Parables are among the best stories.

If I simply said that I was ready to put this year behind me, I would be missing an important opportunity to recognize the growth that I have experienced in this last, most interesting of years. I listened to a parable while meditating a few days ago. I’m not a practiced meditator, I’m flawed, my thoughts racing by, raging fire engine red machines snaking their way through the streets of Monaco. My brain is a frenetic place to house a calm guest, but I work at welcoming them anyway. This parable struck me, as they are intended to do, and I thought I would share it with you. – A farmer woke to discover that during the night his horse had run off. His neighbors said to him: “What misfortune to have lost your only horse.” Maybe the farmer replied. A few days later the horse returned, bringing with him three wild stallions. “What good fortune”, remarked the neighbors. “Maybe” replied the farmer. The farmers only son was riding one of the wild stallions and was thrown from the horse, shattering his leg, forever leaving him with a limp. “What bad luck remarked the neighbors..” “Maybe” replied the farmer. Soon after, his country was embroiled in war, and soldiers made their way through his village, identifying all able bodied boys to enlist them in the army. When the soldiers arrived at the farmers home, and saw that his only son walked with a limp, they moved on. “What good fortune” his neighbors proclaimed. “Maybe” replied the farmer.

Willow Bend, the gals are ready to demo all that had been damaged.

This little parable got me to thinking about examining the coin more closely. So many of you believe that head’s up is the way to bet. I’ve always gone for the underdog, tails. More than a pretty face, a tail can wag and control a situation, it can distract, entertain, and in the end it has just as good a chance of landing on the “right” side as the other. Which is the point. Heads or tails, we can all even our odds by changing the perspective in which we view the events that happen – remembering that they are not happening “to us” – they are just happening.

Just a few minor changes being made….

The events in my little corner of the universe included my very first joint venture flip. This project like all the others I have done to date was purchased in one year, but will not be sold until the following spring. What good fortune, many have remarked. You found a home in Chatham for under a million dollars, an in town location, a walk to the beach. This little three bedroom Cape has expressed its dissatisfaction with its decades of neglect, again and again. It absorbing cash at the rate of a roll, or two of Hefty paper towels, which I am not begrudging the old gal. She deserves to be cleaned up, put to rights, but I did so want to adorn her in accessories that made her sparkle, and instead, the majority of the budget will be spent behind her walls, under her foundation, a ventilation system that will allow her to breath free and easy, winter or summer, spring or fall, and she’ll have new steps to ensure no one does trip and fall, which we can all agree is very important. I know I do, and felt a little bad that I was asked to do more with less for the portion of the project that is mine to make shine. Then I remembered all I’ve done with paint in the past, and it made me perk up a bit. Cape’s weren’t born into the upper class, attending premiers, and walking the red carpet at The Met Ball. No, she is happiest when she can throw a log on the fire, open her high gloss coral colored front door to the neighbors, serve them a nice bottle of wine that she found at Trader Joe’s – laugh not, the selection is incredible and very affordable. Welcoming, comfortable, cheeky, that’s what she of Apres Sea will be. Maybe it’s just what needed to happen.

Lawrence Street . Just a few minor edits.

And what of my main manse, my little condo on Lawrence Street in Boston’s South End? To say she was in rough shape when I found her in December of 2018 is an understatement. Hidden under her floor boards and behind the walls, was all manner of malfeasance. Like me, she was forced to undergo an operation, no little facelift for this gal. I had to rip her insides out and rebuild her, the best way I knew how, and now she is strong and thriving, but the market for little condos in the South End is not. Bad luck some of you have said, to have had her ready for sale during a pandemic. Too bad you couldn’t have put her on the market in summer, or the previous spring, when we all still believed this would end sooner, rather than later. I agreed, I felt sorry, I worried, I lamented, and then I thought, maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that could have happened. I thought just maybe, there is something that I have yet to have predicted that will come of this. Maybe. We will see. Whatever will be, will be.

Star Studded Stairs

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My internal monolog is a chatter box. Talk, talk, talk, question, ruminate, debate, playing one side and then the other. My head is like a kindergarten class before naptime. Sometimes I can’t even get a word in edgewise, which probably seems pretty silly since they are all supposed to be my words. The truth is, what other people think, always finds a way, stealthily into the conversation. It’s not that I don’t value others opinions, but when they don’t have any skin in the game, well it’s hard to put too much faith in it.

  • BM . Old Navy
  • BM . Deep Royal

This latest discussion goes something like this – if this were my house, I’d paint a navy stripe just about a half inch above the baseboard, or dustboard if you are an inventor of trends. My navy would be a shade so dark it would be reminiscent of the ocean, at a depth as deep as the resting place of the Titanic. It would start its journey in the entryway, purposefully and ever so orderly, marching its way up the stairs, feeling its way along the walls in the hallway, jumping over the break in the doors to stick the landing like an Olympic gymnast on the exact spot between door, casing, and wall, before continuing its march around the perimeter, a regimen of soldiers marching in formation at their commanders will. I of course, am the commander in this case, begging the painter not to squiggle outside the lines of my perfect formation, making its way around the quad (the small interior hallway of the second floor), before spilling its way down the staircase to its final star studded finish. If it were my house, that’s what I would do, but it is not.

  • Collins Interiors does is with a stunning ribbon
  • A simple lick of paint is so much cheaper and has fantastic impact.

How many buyers would I offend with my sense of style? I want my line to have punch, but designing the perfect punchline takes finesse, sophistication, mad skills, and when you have them, the pay off is huge. What if I don’t have that? What if the potential buyers think it’s a bad joke? What then? It’s only paint, but can I afford to turn someone off? These are the questions that shout their agreement and then their dissent – please, I am begging all of you to be quiet.

  • Oak Valley Designs . Etsy . a handsome alternative to a full runner at a fraction of the cost.
  • Treading Water with these oceany hues.

The thing of it is, stairs are often boring, utilitarian, necessary for sure, and much preferred to the ladder, having used a ladder for years to make my way into a loft, but the reality is – they get ignored. I think we can do better in our little Willow Bend property. What if I were to place a single wooden star applique on the center of the fifth riser, what if I put one on every riser? What if I dressed the treads in herringbone and I painted my baseboard stripe despite the protestations to keep it beige, to keep it boring? What if? Would you like it as much as me?

A little applique goes a long way. I’m tempted to paint it gold, but it would look stunning in one of Ben Moore’s Navy’s.

Fortune Knocks Once

Posted in Coastal Design, Flipping, Paint Colors by
I adore a solid door with side lights – clean and simple. There is something very welcoming about a Dutch Door but the bugs – ugh.

Is it really true that fortune knocks once on every man’s door? What about women? What about A woman – more specifically what about me, and the “we” of the Willow Bend three? There are really four of us in this endeavor, but “we” rhymes with “three”, and all I can think for four, is shut the door, and I certainly don’t want our door to be shut. I want to open the door, and have song birds, and sunshine accompanied by a seersucker slacked, blue blazered, butler carrying a silver tray of cut glass coupes filled with bubbly come bursting forth. I want the guests to hear the pop of the champagne cork as their Gucci clad loafer crunches down on the bleached seashell drive and think – a party? For me? Yes, I believe the front door can say all of that – minus maybe the butler, but wouldn’t he look sweet in that outfit. Would I be going to far if I asked him to wear a blue linen pillbox hat and a coral colored bow tie? He’d have my utmost respect.

Pink and Green – a preppy paradise, and the plantings at both these doors, pretty as a picture.

I do think a door says a whole lot more than people give it credit for. It’s no wallflower, well maybe there are a few demure dames in the door derby, but a door can, and should be so much more. This is the point we are arguing, not arguing right now. No one really wants to replace the front door – money, oh the money honey, it all adds up so fast, but a few of us, two of us, were secretly hoping that the old gal would get put out to pasture, and as it turns out – horray – she really does need to retire. She stood valiantly for decades, with her cherry red lipsticked smile, greeting passers-by, and she’s tired. Now the question remains, whoever will replace her?

Does the Mail Man still come to your door and drop the letters through the slot?

We’ve been interviewing candidates. Some have hundreds of years experience – oh they’ve been around the door business for generations. We lean toward those first. There are side lights to consider, transom windows over the door, paneled, glass lights, mullioned, clear, tripled glazed, and it goes on and on. Every candidate makes a case for why their looks and experience really are the best, and that’s before we even consider adorning with jewels. They probably won’t be wearing Harry Winston to the ball, but I have my fingers crossed that we can get a little fancier than Kay Jewelers – no offense Kay, but not even the throbbing pain from the weight of the Harry Winston wreath diamond earrings would deter me from saying anything but yes, yes, yes please and thank you – a door deserves a little hardware that’s not hard to wear and easy on the eyes.

So much more than just a way in.

I do want it to look good in a wreath and I am leaning toward a happy pop of a color for her gown, after all, she lives in Chatham.

Merry Perfection.