Our New Addition

No, I'm not pregnant. The new addition I am referring to is a new bed. At this point in my life, a new bed is more exciting than a new baby (If you had to sleep in our old bed every night, you would understand).

For the past year, at least, David and I have not had a sound night of sleep. Let me outline the reasons why:

1. Our bed sags in the middle, so we are constantly on an incline, which means we are in a constant state of rolling towards the center.

2. Our bed creaks. If you move your head, it creaks. If you scratch your nose, it creaks.

3. Our bed does not absorb motion, at all. If David blinks, I feel it on my side of the bed.

I think those reasons are sufficient evidence. Our bed is slowly trying to kill us. It's chosen method: sleep deprivation.

So, I think my mother-in-law finally got tired of talking to the zombies that had replaced her son and daughter-in-law, because she bought us a lovely, lovely pillow-top bed.

I'm pretty sure we won't be receiving birthday presents for the next several years, which is more than fine with me. The rest I experienced my first weekend on the new bed is sooooo worth it!

Our new bed received a makeover, as well. We bought a comfy duvet cover and pillows at IKEA. Now we just need to move to our new house, and the bedroom transformation will be complete.

(I forgot to mention that we are moving, again. Four times in one year - I think that has to be some kind of record. Our new house is bigger and younger - we're pretty excited.)

Anyways, back to the bed . . .

In the past, we dreaded bedtime, and every morning, we couldn't wait to get up.

Now, we have trouble getting out of bed. It beckons us to sleep a little longer.

It's beyond wonderful.

Just wanted to share our good news.

Don't worry, we'll be sending out Christmas cards of us and our new bed. Maybe we'll even get one of it on Santa's knee. Yes, it's THAT special.

Thanks to the best mother-in-law, ever.

John Granen Photography

I am in love . . .

with a view from the lens.

SHELTER did a post today about neutral interiors and posted this pic from John Granen's photography website. I was immediately drawn to this photograph - the light, especially where it hits the vase of flowers, the simplicity of the room, the painted brick wall, and of course, the gorgeous headboard - so I decided to head over and peruse his work.


http://www.johngranen.com/

His interiors shots are AMAZING.
His photographs encapsulate everything I want my home to be - modern fixtures with more traditional accents. His perspective is perfect.
I can not wait till the day when my architect hubbie can make all of these beautiful images come to life in a home of our very own!

Huh?

I consider myself very open-minded when contemplating fashion trends. I often think certain trends are tacky, unflattering and painful to look at, but I in general, I just make a mental note to avoid said trend and move on.
However, since moving to Atlanta, I have become aware of a trend that it so preposterous to me, I feel the need to voice my concerns here in the hopes of being able to gain peace and move on.

***Note: I am not sure how behind I may be in noticing this trend. I could be months or years behind, but I have only noticed it since moving to downtown Atlanta. Forgive me if this is old news.

Here's the scenario:
It's a beautiful fall day and David and I are headed to Perimeter to price a new mattress (really, really excited!). We're driving down Boulevard when I start to notice several young men dressed in a similar fashion: t-shirt or tank, jeans, and tennis shoes or boots. Simple enough. As I watch them, I notice that something about the way that they're walking in connection with the positioning of their jeans is not quite right. A closer look reveals that their jeans are positioned below their rear ends, completely independent of their waist or hips.
An even closer look reveals that as these guys walk, one hand is free to do as it pleases, but the other hand is required to hold up the denim. And I don't just mean that every now and then the hand must linger in the hip region. As long as these jeans are on, the hand is there, staving off the possibility of the jeans falling to the ankles and these young men falling face first to the pavement. These jeans aren't even necessarily baggy. Some of these guys were wearing skinny jeans - sagging below their rear ends.
How do these guys exist like that? How do they go grocery shopping? How do they answer their cell phones while simultaneously carrying something?
I started posing all of these questions to David as we were driving. I think he was amused with my exasperation, because he only smiled and listened as I went on and on with my musings.
I think the answer is, that while these jeans are on, life is about making a statement, not functionality. I'm not quite sure what that statement is, but that's not the point.
It's ridiculous.

I started thinking about why this trend bothers me so much, and I think it's because I don't get why a person would voluntarily hinder their ability to function for the sake of "fashion".
Then, in a moment where I felt like I was the wheelchair girl on the "truth platform" in Mean Girls - "I don't hate you because you're fat. You're fat because I hate you." - I realized that I was getting my panties in a knot about something I have done before.
I remember when David and I went to NYC last fall, I was so excited to go shopping and get some fun clothes to wear on the trip. I wanted a fun pair of heels, so I picked out some ridiculously high, but oh so pretty Michael Kors black patent peep-toe heels. I love them, but in moments of honesty with myself, I have to admit that I still have trouble walking in them - they're 5 1/2 inch heels. On one of my favorite nights in NYC, David and I had plans to go to a great sushi dinner and then a Broadway show. I put on a cute outfit and then donned the heels. David gave me an "are you serious?" look, but said nothing and we left. This was not our first night in the city. I knew we would be taking the subway and walking and standing a lot. I was able to last about 15 minutes looking like a normal person. Then David had to lend me his arm for support. Then for the rest of the night, I walked all over the theater district looking like I had escaped from a hobbling.
Since then, my ability to walk in these heels has improved and I plan ahead if I know I will be walking or standing in them for more than 30 minutes or so (trusty flip-flops in the bag), but am I not doing the same thing as these saggy jean-wearing men? I'm sacrificing a bit of comfort to take part in a trend.
And I realized, I don't feel silly or odd when I put on my cute shoes, and I don't think people are oggling my footware with looks of puzzlement or dread. So, I'm sure these guys feel completely normal when they put on these below-the-butt jeans.
I guess the point is, the whole incident has helped me to reach the conclusion that I would like my life to be a balance of functionality and fun. Sometimes functionality will take precedents over fun and vice versa - I didn't function very well in those Michael Kors heels in NYC, but it sure is entertaining to look at our pictures from the trip and laugh about that night. It was fun to be a 5'7 version of myself walking the streets of Manhattan!
Now that I have mediated my internal dilemma, I just have to figure out how to find that balance every day.