Sharing. In High Definition.

We hung our large-to-us high definition telly in my studio a couple of weeks ago.  I say ‘large to us’ because at forty inches, it’s apparently only a medium.  But for us?  Huge and gorgeous.

It is a treat to watch one of the HD channels.  Truly they are incredible — especially the nature shows.   And boy have we seen some nature.

Last week the Boy had his Monday Night Football crew here.  They alternate houses on Monday nights, and are fed by the mamas.  Or the MonkMan.  In any case, downstairs there were lots of seventeen-year-old boys.

Upstairs in my studio the BBE, BFF and I were watching a new show on ShowTime:  Californication.  It’s about… well, it’s obvious what it’s about.  But it is seriously funny in a sleazy, amoral kind of way.  It’s fun to describe the main character — you get to use adjectives that just don’t pop up in everyday conversation anymore:  profligate; debauched; dissolute; dissipated; and very charismatic.

So there we were watching the naughty naughty boy on the high-def tv, howling away.  After the show the BFF left and called from the car to tell us that anyone outside our house can look up and watch with us through the window with the open blinds.  In high-def.  ‘Anyone’ being the BOYS that had been LEAVING during the show.

No wonder they all love coming to our house.

Summer of the Laz-e-Boy

Yeah, that’s what we’re all about in our house these days. The Laz-e-Boy. The BFF, in her many years of designing homes for folk, has come up with some seriously funny (and accurate) observations on the beast Human. One of these, which she shared with me this summer, is that the only truly happy men she’s ever seen shopping for furniture were in the Laz-e-Boy Gallery.

We’ve been redoing a few things around the house this summer — replacing some rotted-out boards, fixing things (deferred maintenance graw-doo) — and then the fun stuff. That’s included updating the Littlest’s room (from little girl to teenager), building a deck, replacing a window, and some other fun projects.

The funnest? Heading to the LeB Gallery in search of the perfect chairs for the Treehouse (aka Boy Heaven). After trying many many chairs, we asked our saleslady which chair men loved best — and there it was– The Atlas:

Ain’t it purty? It is truly in the house –in quadruplicate. Yes, four Atlases, lined up in the Treehouse. They’ve been filled with teenage boys since appearance — very very happy teenage boys.

Then it was time for the Littlest and her special Reading Chair. As the BFF and I looked over the stock of chairs, it became clear that we would have to custom-order this next Laz-e-Boy. So the Littlest picked out the chair, then the cutest fuzzy light blue material (and have we talked about the microfiber easy-clean fabric? I mean, HELLO! Here I’ve been hanging with gorgeous natural fabrics and shit, and the teflon of fabrics has been available the whole time). So here’s the chair — just imagine the adorable light blue fuzzy fabric — maybe I’ll post a pic soon. The Littlest doesn’t leave the chair.

My studio, personal workplace and haven, has always been the hang-out at night. The babies now have their own stuff going on, so they aren’t in quite as much — but the BBE is in with me from seven p.m. on (and I love that). The very cute loveseat that we’ve occupied the last few years was fine, but not really truly comfortable. The BFF and I searched high and low for a gorgeous, stylish, full-on comfy piece that fit in the studio — no luck. So the BFF and I gave up the ghost, and headed back to the wonderful LeB Gallery. Where we were recognized. They now know our names. Proud we are. My studio is now the proud owner of this lovely LeB — much beloved by the BBE (and, I confess, my own fine self).

Fuck me — it’s called ‘The Roland’. I have a Laz-e-Boy called ‘The Roland’ in my studio. Honestly I had no idea. The BFF and I measured, sat, and chose (but in a golden wheat color — not the shown ‘rusty red’ — which makes it better, right? Sigh).

So there you have it. We are the House of Comfort. Currently the BBE and I are parked on The Roland, with Clarence snuggled between us and 48 Hours playing on the boob tube. We have officially fallen, and we can’t get up.

Impressive

Me.  Impressive.  With my ‘blogging each day in August’ and all.  Oh well — it’s a good thing that I don’t tend to kick myself around for stuff I can’t remember to do.  Heh heh.

So here are some pics from this summer (Santa Fe) –

Parry Hotter

Long ago and far away in a distant galaxy, I totally set myself up. The babies were in 3rd and 5th grades when the first HP movie came out. They were so very excited, so the mama took them out of school so as to hit the VERY first showing in Austin.

Fast forward six years, through five (now six) midnight book-release parties and three (now four) more first-show movies, and you’ve got one very wooly mama.

Actually it all started out fine — with plans to hit the midnight showing of HP5 at the Alamo.  Then the group grew to include “everyone that went with us last time Mama” plus the children of parents who would be sanely snoozing in their beds when the opening credits rolled.  So, yeah.  Fifteen tickets.  Six fourteen-year-old girls; four sixteen-year-old boys; one college kid; and four adults.

Of course we all dressed up (and made props for the rest of the crew) — I was Moaning Myrtle, complete with pigtails, white skin, and horn-rimmed glasses.   The BBE was the funniest as Mad-Eye, with a special googaly eyeball.

Hermione, Luna, Cho (don’t ask), and the Littlest as Jenny.

And a special dark-haired Rita Skeeter.

A good time was had by all (especially me, since I had a DD and cold beer).

On to the final book release:  for the last five we’ve been at the BookPeople party with another family.  But my mom called in May to invite the Littlest and me to Santa Fe, along with my sister and niece — only glitch is the weekend (same as the book release).  Littlest was hyperventilating, until I pointed out that Santa Fe also has book stores.

All the smaller bookstores said they wouldn’t get copies until a few days after the release (and how wrong is that?) so I reserved two books at Border’s.

Fast forward six weeks, and we’re in Santa Fe, and Border’s has lost our names.  They remember me calling from Austin — but they don’t have our ‘reservation’.  So they tell me to show up the morning before the midnight release at the crack of dawn to be first on the waiting list.  We show up, get purple bracelets, and hear their plan:  those who have reservations are also getting bracelets.  The first 150 to show up that morning received orange bracelets, the next 150 blue, and on down through three more colors before — finally — the lowly purples (and what’s up with that?  “Lowly Purple” just ain’t right).

Their ‘plan’ is to call in the people by color group, starting at midnight with the oranges, to sell the books.  Yes, SELL the books.  Because pre-sales are something Border’s just can’t handle.

We head to the opera that night (La Boheme — it was great), then the two girls and I head straight to Border’s and get there right after midnight.  There’s no party.  Nothing going on in the parking lot (though a party was advertised — and apparently some folks had been around the whole time).  Everyone and their dog was crammed in the store.  We’re talking major claustrophobia here.

To call it a clusterfuck is putting it WAY lightly.  Seriously, this was the most poorly-organized event I’d been to since The Police played at SouthPark Meadows.

I would share some of my text messages from the next three hours,  but the language police might show up.  Here it is in redux: 800 books are handed out in three hours, averaging 4.4 a minute — not bad until the 15 checkers are factored in.  Add the group of complete fucktard teenagers who were behind us — the boys trying to talk to my girls — which Littlest and her cousin never picked up on because they were a.) comatose and b.) being called ‘Girl with the Hair’.  Finally the girl with the got fussy and picked up a “What if” book, which she proceeded to read aloud from for the next thirty minutes.  Really great stuff, like “Would you drive over a pillowcase full of kittens if you got bunch of money for it” and “would you give up some of your height to increase your enis-pay size”.  We’re talking total charm-school material here.

Finally we got the lovely books, and made it into bed by 3:30 a.m.

So here’s the good news:  first, I love Parry Hotter.  Second, if anything is every this big again — my kids are going to be waiting in line(s) with their kids.  Last, my babies were all very happy — and I got some huge Mama Brownie Points.

A BookMap, you say?

I should start by admitting to being fairly anal. I love to have things organized and in their proper places. It’s not so much a neatness thing, more that I truly can’t stand wasting time looking for something.

So take that proclivity, plus the number of books in our house and the accompanying look of fear in the babies’ and the BBE’s eyes as they pass through the towering stacks — add in my amazing BFF (who’s an interior decorator) and you’ve got a project. A Big Book Project. (Sorry — been looking through lots of old favorites the past few weeks, and hearing familiar word rhythms. So ‘a big book project’ just got overlaid by ‘a big dog party’ from Go Dog Go. “It’s a party! A big dog party! Big dogs little dogs…”. Sigh. I know, I’m strange).

The BFF came up with the perfect idea for our home. Books everywhere — books in every room (although that’s not the brilliant bit, as we already had books in every room). She had me organize the books by genre, and then came up with shelves for all the spaces. Clarity. That’s what was needed — and that’s what we’ve got.

Study: the bookcases that the BBE built for me when we were first married — and that we had to cut the tops off of when we moved into this house seventeen+ years ago (much higher ceilings in Hyde Park). So the right two are the home of Fiction — the left is miscellaneous Non-Fiction (poetry/gardening/bios).

Living Room: bookcases the BFF brought in from C&B — the left side is Art / the right is History.

Other side of Living Room: Horses (yes that’s right — ‘Horses’ is a genre in this house). I love these bookcases; they were my great-grandmothers. Inside (besides the equitation books I collected through the years) are my grandfather’s set of stud books from the 1920s and 30s — and his personal records from his own operation.

Family Room: Reference. The BFF found this very cool little tower, which is almost big enough for all our reference books (the drawers are also full). Apparently I need to do a little picture straightening — the three frames hold first-grade artwork from both of the babies and myself (I’m the one-eyed tiger you can’t see at the bottom).

Other side Family Room: Home books (personal/architecture/design/etc.)

And now up the stairs to the landing: this is a SERIOUSLY cute little bookshelf that I decoupaged with the paper covers off picture books. Once upon a time it held picture books, but now holds the babies’ school books.

Here’s another shot. The BFF had us mount it up off the ground. Me likey.

Other side of the landing: Picture books and early chapter books. I truly adore sitting and looking through them for hours — as do the babies. Lots of these were mine growing up. See all the Nancy Drews? Each week I had to decide whether to use my allowance on a Nancy Drew, or save it, as three allowances equaled one Breyer horse.

Upstairs Cubby: Religion.

My Studio: stuff I need in here (applicable art; quilting; computer graphics; stitching; and one small set of Jane Austen. Because I had to. These shelves used to hold all my Scenery/Costume Design books — plus History and Photography. But truly I wasn’t using them in here, and I couldn’t see to work. All the boxes hold different projects. Me likey lots.

And last but certainly not least: the books I’m currently reading or planning to read soon. Fiction on the left; various Non-Fiction on the right.

So that’s it.  The BookMap of my house — complete at last!  And I am SO HAPPY with it.  As are the BBE and the babies, who no longer fear being crused to death by piles of books.