sweet peony: when two wrongs become a right...

The dining room is done. Well, at least paint-wise. The color speaks silken texture, old fashioned warmth...and has the glow of new birth. The way too intense red-pink bought a year ago, mixed with the way too pale pink bought this year, in a 30:70 ratio (a stroke of brilliance by JR the wonder-painter) is perfect. I've named it Sweet Peony - giving what seems like an appropriate nod to both 'sweet peas' and 'peonies'. Only 587 more projects to go.

It's clear why I love blogging: Things stand still. You can document an 'ah ha' moment and revisit it ad infinitum and it never gets dusty, never decays. And in writing, the extraordinary presents itself gilded and untarnished:

For sale: 100 year-old, Craftsman style 3BR, 2.5BA home with bonus 3rd floor room-with-a-view, on double lot one block north of Annunciation Cathedral. Wrap around porch; beautiful floors; every closet a walk-in; 2nd floor enclosed porch laundry room; double staircase; full basement. New 50-year roof, recent paint job, newer furnace/AC. $475K.

Cool. Sign me up. Oops...I live here. And I know its faults all too well!

But for now, I'm in the pink. And the obvious metaphor here is how I struggled & worked twice to get the color right...and it was wrong. And the thought of letting go and allowing 'free mixing' was terrifyingly unsure to me...and it was right. Hmmmmm........

Lately, taking pictures, downloading pictures, dealing with blogspot's ass-backwards (uh oh, there goes my PG blog rating) approach to inserting them has been 100% overwhelming. But now, here, in the cool of the late night I've found revivification.

A floating dancer hangs from the piano room light while hummingbirds circle above

A reflection in the piano lid

The piano room

Yet another curtain to view life through, this time in the spare bedroom

Same curtain with a hint of a view of the neighbor's house

Tigger reigns on the guest room bed,
perhaps disapproving of the amount of fabric and patterns I'm packing,
even though I haven't sewn in quite a while.
I think of my daughters as I give myself permission to bring beauty for them to fondle.
I conveniently left the utter chaos of the rest of the room
out of the camera lens' view.

Bixby: in touch with his inner Tigger
and contemplating that special kind of torture only he can provide
on the long drive from Stockton to Warsaw.