"In good writing, WORDS BECOME ONE with things."

June 2, 2010 · 3:00 AM

A Closetoscopy

Seattle’s rainy Memorial Day weekend had its benefits.

I realize no one appreciated not being able to picnic, nor BBQ, nor lay in the sun to jump-start a summer tan. I also realize some Seattleites have already closed this web page out of pure fury that I would tip my hat to a rainy holiday weekend in any way.

But the benefits of such a weekend are practical: I got so much done.

I ran tons of errands, had indoor drinks with girlfriends, read hundreds of pages of the book I’m reading, learned how to ride my bike in the rain, did household chores. Plus I saw a movie (Sex and the City 2) without feeling guilty. OK maybe I felt a little guilty that I was seeing SATC 2, but that’s an issue for another day.

But the best, most glorious task that I completed this weekend: I reorganized our storage unit.

Whew! Back up! I did not just blow your mind with something as insanely exciting as reorganization! I’m just moments away from skydiving and lighting my hair on fire! Somebody stop me!

If there is one hobby in my life that gives me goosebumps of pleasure, it is organization. Look no further than here to further understand this compulsion.

And what better outlet for this organization fetish than a storage unit? Ours is just down the hall from our condo, and is already heated, well-lit and painted a cheery yellow. In fact Mike already bought sturdy five-level stand-alone shelves so that nothing is clustered on the floor.

But it still wasn’t good enough. It still made me hyperventilate upon entry. Allow me to show you why:

Do you see the cardboard boxes? Do you see the chaos? Do you have hives yet?

Maybe that’s just me.

Given the absence of BBQs and picnics, I had copious time to visit my favorite place on Earth: The Container Store.

I am being completely honest when I say that if I were to win the lottery my first stop would not be Neiman Marcus, it would be this organizational mother-ship. Of course I would be organizing our mansion in Madison Park, but we can discuss the details of my fantasy real estate another time.

I bought one large clear bin and two tall square bins, as well as two no-lid bins for things that are tall. I also bought things for our bedroom closet, but posting a picture of our closet feels not unlike posting a picture of my delicates drawer. Too personal.

Then I went to work. This was 8:30PM Sunday night, and it took me three hours, so I’m not sure my neighbors were pleased. But they never complained, so I never stopped.

I pulled almost everything out, sorted through it, and put it back in the new bins. I also threw tons of things away. In the end I eliminated six cardboard boxes. YES.

Here is the result:

Paint and wallpaper supplies are gathered together and shelved on top due to their awkward shape.

Christmas items are stored together.

Bins are labeled.

My sister Sam asked me if I had a label-maker and I felt like someone asked me if I had a personal assistant. Like, I didn’t know I could have one, but now that you’ve mentioned it I don’t think I can live without one. And it was only after she mentioned this that I wanted to hide my homemade signs behind my back.

I can breathe again. I can find things we need. I don’t need the cello, but it’s important to Mike, so what can I do?

Maybe I could label it.

6 Comments

Filed under UpWORD (Beauty)

Tagged as design, house, Seattle

May 25, 2010 · 3:00 AM

Now and Then

Is anyone else cursed with the inability to separate the term “now and then” from the 1995 movie of the same title?

I say this without an ounce of disdain because this movie was totally enthralling and watched repeatedly by my 11-year-old self.

The pre-teen drama. The emotional scars of not yet having a chest. The denim overalls (worn, regrettably, by both the girls and their adult counterparts).

The movie is about four 12-year-old girls who become best friends one summer and vow to always be there for each other. Fast-forward twenty-five years and one of them is nine months preggo so they all show up. Tears, flash-backs, and bad hair ensue.

Demi Moore is dark. Melanie Griffith is vain. Rosie O’Donnell is unattractive. Rita Wilson is annoying. You could say it’s some of their best work.

I bring this up because I’m feeling very “Now and Then” about one of my BFFs 25th birthdays (you can’t talk about long-term best friends without using cheesy acronyms). Although we were never adolescents together, we certainly acted as though we were.

The three of us met in college as roommates in a women’s house at the UW. I was 20, Lindsay was 21, and Annie was 19. A snapshot to give you an idea of how far we’ve come (and how well traveled…this is in Oahu one year after meeting):

We’ve now been friends for nearly six years. In the movie they’ve been friends for about 25, so they’ve got a few on us. But hey, at least none of us grew up to look like Rosie O’Donnell. I think that makes us winners.

And though we’ve never had a séance in a cemetery as we attempt to contact Dear Johnny, we have hosted outrageous dance parties, fit 13 people into a Jeep Cherokee, gone skinny dipping in Lake Washington (twice), run a half-marathon, stayed up all night with nothing but three bottles of two-buck-chuck before a 5AM flight…sorry I just lost myself in the buzz of our beehive of memories. Or is that the buzz of the two-buck-chuck? Nevermind.

Last Saturday night we celebrated Annie’s birthday in high style at Toulouse Petit in lower Queen Anne, and had a great time, as usual. But it should be noted that there are definite differences between who we are now and who we were then.

Then
We dressed up because there was never a reason not to, and we were out to prove we were hott. Yes, two-T’s hott.

Now
We dress up out of the knowledge that chances to dress up don’t happen twice a week anymore, and we’ve never been more aware of the fabulousness of our youth.

Then
We’d order long islands, multiple shots of Jose, and anything pink.

Now
We order champagne (Lindsay), a glass of wine (me), or a gin and tonic (Annie).

Then
We’d scrounge for the cheapest happy hour and tailor our evenings to the clock of half-priced drinks.

Now
We make the plans to our liking. Damn the cost!

Then
We were all single and ready to mingle.

Now
I have been married 2.5 years, Annie has a boyfriend, and Lindsay is actively dating.

Then
We were there for each other.

Now
Still the case.

14 Comments

Filed under UpWORD (Beauty)

Tagged as Annie Snyder, college, Lindsay Schuette, movies

May 20, 2010 · 3:00 AM

C U Soon

I am not proud of this, but I have my DVR set to record only two shows.

Brace yourself.

One is The Real Housewives of New York (gasp!).

The other is Oprah (shudder).

For inexplicable reasons, I’m actually more embarrassed to be associated with Oprah. The Real Housewives series is the most fantastic reality show on television, and allows me to indulge in my “mid-week uptown apartment/weekend Hampton’s beach house” fantasy. Of course, the women are despicable and immature, but that only serves to stroke my moral superiority.

See? It’s the best show on television!

Oprah on the other hand, makes me feel like a stay-at-home mom who has never heard of real news and has no connection with the outside world other than through this billionaire talk show host. If I’m ever watching Oprah and Mike comes home from work, I’m instantly inclined to change the channel out of sheer humiliation. It’s as if he’s just caught me singing into my hairbrush in front of the bathroom mirror.

One could understand my dilemma recently when Oprah started a “No Phone Zone” campaign in an effort to get people to stop texting and driving. Ask anyone (especially Mike) and they will say that texting and driving is one of my biggest issues. It’s about the only thing that turns me into a total policing mother around my spouse, friends and family.

Driving drunk and texting behind the wheel are the exact same thing to me. Texting might even be worse because your eyes aren’t even on the road.

But now that Oprah has championed the agenda and called it her own, I don’t want to say two words about it. It makes me feel like one of those sycophantic Oprah worshippers who blindly take on issues just because Ms. O said to.

I just realized that I am insulting Oprah-lovers. I am sorry. Just remember the line between love and hate is incredibly thin; look at me DVRing her every day. Such a hypocrite.

One may wonder why I bother to record her when I have such loathful feelings toward her. It’s simple: the celebrities. No one gets the interviews Oprah gets. Who did Reille Hunter sit down with in her home? Who does Bono visit when he comes to the States? Who does Julia Roberts tell the sex of her unborn babies to?

My point exactly.

Luckily, Oprah is not the only one taking up the texting battle. A far more genius anti-texting advertising campaign in Seattle is run by none other than a funeral home.