Monday, January 12, 2009

Pray for me, Gregor Samsa

In the spirit of Oprah's recent, dare I say, groundbreaking (no pun intended) new year's revelation regarding falling off the weight control wagon, I hereby declare, people, that I'm off decaf.

I know, I know. This blog is appearing more and more to be merely a tragic vehicle for social alienation.

It all began with my request this Christmas for a French coffee press. For years, I've been making my decaf espresso via a countertop Krups machine that no longer froths milk (despite quarterly, invasive prodding with a bent paper clip). Recently the seal began leaking as well, belching steam out the top instead of through the grounds. It was time to say farewell.

Like the dutiful, clever husband that he is, the Bugglehubs colluded with Santa: boxing up an eight cup press and filling my stocking with flavored coffee. Caffeinated coffee. Peppermint, truffle, pumpkin spice. I had to try it - just this once. After the unwrapping chaos died down, as the kids were nestled in their beds for a (hopefully) long winter's nap, I brewed my first pumpkin spice latte, mixing a bit of egg nog into my one percent milk.

I thought I'd died and gone to Starbuck's.

I've had one every day since, metamorphosing in mere days from a jittery, uber-productive mess into an outright, headache-prone addict. I'm hoping the eggnog runs out before I wake one morning to find myself an upturned, twitching cockroach.

Friday, January 9, 2009

2009 lifestyle and decorating trends

As many of you know, I never slow down to gawk at gruesome freeway accidents, nor do I indulge in the unimaginable debauchery on YouTube. Instead, dear readers, I subject myself regularly to a grueling perusal of the Pottery Barn catalog. It makes me want to slit my wrists - and yet, I just can't seem to take my eyes off of it.

Recently I received in the mail my first catalog of 2009. Only fifty-seven (give or take) more to go! I'm pretty sure the reason their furniture is only partially wood is because they've ground up all those discarded glossy pages into an overabundance of particle board. Anyway, they are having a winter "sale," which no doubt means that they've shaved a few bucks off of their three thousand dollar, distressed-veneered multimedia solution wall (as pictured, $5,999).

Dear God: I need it all.

Anyway, this "fresh start" edition is simply brimming with sage lifestyle and decorating advice, both explicit and implied. Here are a few of the tidbits I gleaned:
  • Discard everything you currently own.
  • Relocate to a five thousand square foot home with wood floors throughout.
  • Change all upholstery and bedding seasonally. If necessary, convert garage into "seasonal storage."
  • Receive no actual mail. Instead, purchase postcards (preferably vintage) from around the world and address them to yourself.
  • Your desk is not, in fact, a workspace. It is a showcase for overpriced nicknacks and a chance to imply that you're organized.
  • Pencils are never to be used as writing instruments. They must be unpainted and unsharpened at all times.
  • A home library is essential. However, create it entirely from books with covers that are the same color. If you must, devote time each weekend this year to covering your books with unbleached, recycled paper.
  • Give pets up for adoption.
  • Transpose all of your family photographs from color to black and white. Hire an architect to arrange them on your walls.
  • Cultivate a monochromatic, exotic cutting garden. You may need to convert a bathroom into a greenhouse (try citrus trees!).
  • No children allowed. Particularly in the outrageously expensive dream rooms pictured herein.
  • Despite conventional wisdom, enormous butterflies plastered across your duvet cover will not induce nightmares.
  • Always have attractively-presented cocktails and appetizers handy. Never prepare or consume them in-house.
  • Try to appear as though you never watch television, movies, or listen to CDs.
  • Never use a vase for something as mundane as fresh flowers.
  • Display only coordinated, stylish items. Hide the unsightly things you use everyday in one of your spare walk-in closets.
  • Decant, decant, decant.
  • Transform one of your six bedrooms into an oversized, marbled bathroom.
  • Incorporate moss into your everyday experience.
  • Toss your dentist-recommended electric toothbrush in favor of a manual, faux-tortoiseshell one. Rest assured, the Christmas 2009 catalog will debut PB veneers.
  • Stop trying to cure cancer. Accept the fact that keeping your home environment pristine is ultimately the noblest of pursuits.
[At this point, I feel compelled to disclose that, in a galaxy far, far away, I was once a seasonal employee at Pottery Barn in Beverly Hills. I spent my entire salary, and then some, on merchandise. That damn discount was just too compelling. Now you see why, underneath the junk mail, preschool art and the cluttered barrage of everyday life, my own house is simply oozing polish and style.]

Never give up, folks. Keep pushing on, keep searching for perfection, for the pottery and the barn. I know it's there somewhere.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

I'm practically tasting ash

About twenty-four hours ago I started reading Cormac McCarthy's The Road. I went to bed early and thought I'd just start it. About a hundred pages in, I looked at the clock and it was nearly 11:30. And of course I couldn't sleep, too profoundly disturbed by the fact that my "emergency" kit is irretrievably buried in the garage and contains only a roll of paper towels and an economy pack of Ivory soap. My poor kids would have no chance in the event of an apocalypse. Then again, maybe I should be grateful for that.

Right about now, The Real Housewives of Orange County is looking pretty damn uplifting. So much for laying off television.