All posts tagged: Mekko

Pupdate!

I know it’s only Wednesday, but it’s been one of those weeks, so in lieu of the home renovation content you probably came here for, let’s just look at photos of my cute dogs? Sound alright? Great. I wasn’t actually asking.

It’s been a month since I brought this little guy home, and Mekko and I just adore him. He’s so sweet, hilarious, smart, playful, and all-around just such a good boy! I feel like we really hit the puppy jackpot with him.

Potty training is going pretty well (some days are more successful than others), we’re all sleeping through the night, and a round of dewormers seems to have done the trick for the various intestinal parasites. He’s almost 14 weeks old now, and weighing in at about 16 pounds! Such a big man!

So far his hobbies include playing with his big sister, snuggling, being such a gentleman and also the handsomest boy, sitting on command, laying by the fire, and following me everywhere. He has a newfound interest in shoes that I am trying to discourage. So far he has been minimally destructive and I hope that holds.

It is incredibly difficult to get anything done. Everything he does is v v adorables.

Mostly, this burgeoning partnership between him and Mekko has just been a complete and utter joy to watch. She’s having so much fun with him around, and really seems like a happier—if more exhausted—dog. I really think they’re a good match, which of course is also a relief.

Look at that baby Mekko smile. Look at those nice neck folds.

Watching him develop is such a trip. It happens SO FAST. Little things change with his nose and markings daily. His eyeliner started coming in! There’s a new spot where there wasn’t before! His coat is all nice and shiny now, and very different from Mekko’s—like thicker and with an undercoat. I still think he’s at least half pit bull, but the speculation continues! Should we place bets on his adult weight? The DNA results?

Did I mention the cutest things happen all the time and I can hardly stand it? Because. See above.

Also here, both being very cute. High marks, dogs. Even though he’s practically doubled in size, he still does this thing when he jumps up on the bed, which is like rehearsing few practice leaps that don’t quite get him there, before he makes a bolder leap and kind of pulls himself up like he’s scaling a wall. Jumping on the higher couch or chairs do not seem to present the same challenge. Will report back.

I am not interested in human feet but I love these dog feet. Little toesies.

The other day I color-matched his belly and the color was called “Nice Berry.” Indeed.

He’s so soft. So so soft. With nice stretchy skin and delicious breath.

We—and by “we” I mean “I”—have decided he shall be called Bungee. Like a bungee cord, or a bungee jump. It seems to suit him and he seems to like it. So that is that.

Welcome, Bungee. I hope you like having your picture taken and your face kissed all over.

Life
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PUPPY PUPPY PUPPY PUPPY PUPPY.

Well the spoiler is right there in the title, so let’s cut to the chase! A couple of days before Christmas, Mekko and I adopted a puppy! PUPPY!!!! What a joyful, adorable, and sleep-depriving way to ring in the new year!

As many of you likely know, about 14 months ago my little old dog Linus passed away. I took it hard but my other dog, Mekko, didn’t really seem to. They were a funny kind of a pair—Mekko was essentially adopted on a whim one January day in Brooklyn, and Linus arrived by happenstance a few months later when he was found as a stray. The idea that they—a rambunctious young 50-pound pit bull and a geriatric 12-pound white toy breed—might form some kind of special bond was irresistibly adorable, but it never totally came to pass. Mekko was always really gentle with Linus, and I think his sleepy laid-back nature had some calming effect on her, but that was about the extent of it. Instead they settled into a comfortable, arms-reach arrangement that worked for everyone. And while I never regretted keeping Linus for a second, I was always aware that he wasn’t exactly what Mekko might have chosen for a sibling if she had a say in the matter. At various times I even considered getting a third dog better suited to Mekko’s brand of fun, but the idea fizzled among work stress and financial constraints and wanting to avoid appearing like a crazy person intent on dying alone surrounded by a dozen rescue dogs who might then decide to eat my corpse. Do dogs do that? Asking for a friend. 

Throughout the last year, I’ve considered bringing the human to dog ratio in this house back up to 1:2. Approaching 9 years old (HOW?!), Mekko is still a bundle of playful energy, but I’m not so delusional that I think that will last forever. She’s technically considered a senior. In the spring and summer of 2018, she successfully underwent treatment for a mast cell tumor, plunging me into the exciting and extraordinarily expensive world of canine oncology. Part of me felt certain that another perfectly-imperfect dog would just drop, fully-formed, into my lap, but when that failed to actuate as the months ticked by I realized I might have to actually do something this time to make it happen. Nothing like a cancer diagnosis for one dog a few months after the death of your other dog to make time feel very limited and precious! I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t get around to this in time for Mekko to still enjoy it. 

So first, the goal was summer. Summer was really busy. Then the goal was fall—my birthday is in late September, so that seemed like a fun idea. But that was a really busy time, too, and I slowly started to recognize that what I was waiting for—a prolonged period when the timing felt right, the finances were comfy and work was slow (do these things ever go hand in hand?), and the house was well-prepared—was just not going to happen. There’s never a good time to upend your life, even if the change is relatively minor. The conditions are never just so. 

So thinking back on how Mekko and Linus entered my life, it struck me that a little impulsivity when it comes to decisions like this is kind of my modus operandi, and dog-related ones have historically not ended in any form of regret. Thinking about it too much was causing me to psych myself out. I already know how to have a dog. I already know how to have two dogs. This is ridiculous. Enough’s enough.

So I submitted an adoption application to a small local rescue organization. The approval came almost immediately, and to be honest I wasn’t sure I was going to do anything with it. On the night of December 22nd, I planned to spend December 23rd chipping away at house projects.  Then I woke up on December 23rd, took Mekko outside, and called the rescue. By noon, I was walking into a room containing 11 wiggly little tiny puppies, a litter freshly transported from a high-kill shelter down in Tennessee (this is super normal on the east coast—the south has an immense spay/neuter/overpopulation problem). They all came running toward me, which I feel bears repeating. ELEVEN. TINY. BABY. PUPPIES. RUNNING. AT. ME. I could have burst into tears, but I still wanted the lady to let me adopt one of them so I controlled myself. 

I didn’t tell anyone I was going. I spent about an hour picking up puppies, putting down puppies, snuggling puppies, and watching this huge, varied litter interact, trying to read the tea leaves on their itty bitty personalities to predict which one I thought would get along best with Mekko.

Do you know how hard it is to choose one puppy out of ELEVEN?! Guys. So hard. 

A couple stood out, but one of them—black and white with some brindle peeking through, and the most adorable speckled little nose—kept coming back. He was gentle and relatively calm. He sat in my lap on his back while I stroked his little bloated puppy belly. He came when I called him over, and sat down at my feet. I noticed he seemed to be particularly attentive to the woman who runs the rescue, even though he’d only been under her care for a couple of days. He was playful with his litter mates but not totally insane, preferring to participate when engaged but not really instigating. I just had a feeling. 

And by 3 in the afternoon, I was introducing Mekko to her new little brother. And my heart grew three sizes that day. The thing you can’t see in this photo is how fast Mekko’s tail was wagging as she sniffed this little guy all over for the first time. She was SO excited. He wasn’t quite sure yet, ha!

Then we went to the pet store and got some supplies, because that kind of advanced planning is, evidently, how we roll. And ya know what? Everything. Turned. Out. Fine. You figure it out. You rise to the occasion. It’s a big deal but a manageable one. 

I realized sometime during the car ride home that I actually have no idea what kind of dog he is. I keep asking him but he hasn’t learned to talk yet. The rescue listed the puppies as Lab/Hound mixes, which…sure. I think there’s definitely pit bull in there—which is really what I was looking for and assumed these guys were!—but the rest…who knows! I know there are DNA tests for this nowadays, but I kind of think the not-knowing is fun. Will he be 30 pounds or 80? Only time will tell!

He is settling RIGHT in. Like a lot of puppies with his background, he arrived with an active case of fleas and various intestinal parasites, so we’ve been working on resolving that. Turns out part of that adorable bloated puppy belly was because it was full of worms! How precious! How completely grotesque! Animals, am I right?

And then there’s THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE. He keeps trying to initiate cuddle time with Mekko, whose resolve appears to be waning by the day. Over the past few days they’ve REALLY started playing, and it’s just the cutest most special thing ever. Mekko could obviously devour him in one bite and he’s no match for her in a game of tug (hell, a lot of times I’m no match for her), but she’s so gentle with him and likes to let him selectively win so he comes back for more. She’s teaching him! My heart can’t take it! He’s also been taking good notes on Mekko’s advanced cuddle and napping techniques and really excelling in those areas.

I sort of hate to admit it, but I still haven’t named him! I know, I know. Don’t shame me!! Since he’s been under the weather while the worms, uh, evacuate, I just want to make sure his name fits his personality which is coming out more and more everyday. Also, I think part of the problem settling on a name may stem from having gotten too many opinions while we saw all these people over the holidays. Ha! So like, I got this. It’s not for lack of options. I’m not sure I can handle more options.

So. There’s a new 11 week-old, 11 pound wild animal living in my house, with tiny razor sharp teeth and a very small bladder, and it’s kind of the best. It’s true that puppies are a lot of work with a lot of needs, but I gotta say—while I’d absolutely do the adult dog adoption and the senior dog adoptions again—it feels like a real privilege to get to raise this guy from 10 weeks. I haven’t had a puppy since middle school! The house is absolutely littered with toys, I’m churning out boiled chicken and rice like it’s my job, and have never spent so much time monitoring the frequency and viscosity of poop in my life. And, as I type this, I have a couple of dogs—my dogs—sleeping soundly on both sides of me, occasionally letting out a little snore or dream-twitch to remind me it’s real.

Maybe the timing for that was just right, after all.

If you’re interested in adopting one of the puppy’s litter mates, I think they’re all still available! Go fill out an application at Hollywood Dog Rescue, located in Pine Bush, NY! Liz was a pleasure to work with. 

Life
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Here’s What the Living Room Looks Like Nowadays.

linus2

Oh hi, Linus! What a little muppet. Can you believe that guy has been camping out with me for almost three years now? He’s the best thing in the world. FYI.

When I first posted about the renovated living room, I kind of mentioned that I didn’t feel like the room was looking all that great, as the extent of my decorating had been spending an hour or so the day before throwing a bunch of stuff into the room that I already owned. When you live in a perpetual renovation zone, just the novelty of being able to use a room is excitement enough…caring too much about what it looks like is kind of beside the point. And because my house still needs so much work, and the budget for it is always slimmer than it needs to be, it’s not like I have a bunch of cash lying around to buy beautiful things and make even the “finished” spaces look…well, finished.

Anyway. I’ve been doing some heavy-duty nesting and reorganizing and changing things around lately, as I’m now often alone in the house and allowed to do whatever the hell I want. Moment of awkward silence. Point is, I was looking around my living room the other day and realized it looks way more like a real room than last time I posted about it, so maybe it’s high time for a little update!

womb2

First thing’s first…CHAIR. Newsflash: I have a womb chair now and it is officially the nicest thing in my house. And by thing, I mean glorified dog bed. Here, Mekko demonstrates how to use it. Thanks, Mekko!

So the story of this chair is one of bratty persuasion. At some point when I was in high school, my mother became fixated on buying a set of lounge chairs for her bedroom, and somehow I convinced her that a set of grey womb chairs were everything that she wanted. It probably goes without saying that in fact they were everything wanted, but she bought them all the same and then…DIDN’T LIKE THEM. I don’t get it either. She doesn’t find them comfortable.

I’ll say two things about that. The first is that I personally find this chair incredibly comfortable, and the second is that I have lots and lots of chairs in my life and admittedly very few of them are all that comfortable. What can I say? I love me a good-looking chair and like any good blogger, I will sacrifice comfort for beauty every time.

So the chairs sat in my parents’ bedroom until they moved, and then one went to the condo where it continues to be hated and the other one went to fester in a storage facility. This is what my family does as a way to avoid dealing with getting rid of stuff, which is one of their finer qualities IMO. In any case, it seemed like an awful shame to let this chair sit piled atop other stuff and wrapped in cellophane, so when I was home for Passover recently I did the selfless thing and brought it home with me.

Sorry, Mom! This is what you get for having a gay son. Endless decorating advice about expensive items that said son will later convince you to bequeath to him. I’m not proud.

OK, I’m kind of proud.

brasa

Working our way around in no particular order: LAMP. I love this lamp. It’s the IKEA 365 BRASA floor lamp, which I hate to tell you is discontinued! Ugh. I think it retailed for $120 which was always too spendy for me, but the whole thing is super nice powder-coated steel and just so, so well made. I’ve loved it for years! This was a floor model and I found it in the as-is section, and it took me about 0.0 seconds to snatch it up before the opportunity would never present again. I think it was marked down something like 40%.

So sad. It’s such a great lamp.

rugcoffeetable

You might have noticed in the first shot that I moved my stupid little DIY bench into here and called it a coffee table! It functions well as both and I like it a surprising amount, especially because it saves me from feeling like I have to buy a coffee table. Coffee tables are maybe the hardest thing to find, am I right? It’s like they’re all ugly or the wrong height or the wrong length or the wrong everything. Or a billion dollars.

rug

Underneath the coffee table is a rug! A rug that I bought! I got a little overly excited at an auction recently and snagged this rug for $150! TOTALLY worth it in my book. Antique rugs like this are so hard to find at an affordable price. The pictures don’t really show how damaged this rug is in spots, which I’m sure is why the price didn’t go higher, but I don’t really care about that. The majority of the damage is in the middle region and that’s mainly under the coffee table, so I just ignore it. I do have to invest in a pad for underneath but that’s more of a “note to self” than something you need to be concerned about.

I love it a whole lot. It’s still kind of under-sized for this room, but not as under-sized as the one in the old pictures, so at least I’m moving in the right direction. This room can handle an 8×10 so I’ll probably be on the prowl for one for the rest of my life.

bench

Also found at the same auction: PIANO BENCH. I’m still feeling pretty smug about this one. The piano came with the house and is from the 1920s or so, but whatever bench it had was gone, unfortunately, and the piano looks kind of strange sitting without a bench. I think this bench cost me 30 bucks and I feel like you’d NEVER think I just bought it! That’s all I really wanted…I didn’t want to make some kind of feature out of the piano bench—just find something that fit with the piano. The piano is Kroeger and the bench is Steinway so I know they aren’t really a match, but the mahogany finish is almost an exact match and even the shape of the legs is similar, so I feel like I did pretty good.

fern

On top of the piano I plopped a Stag Head Fern, which I love and am trying not to kill. This room needed some plant life so I’m glad it has some now.

Please don’t die, fern. I can’t take that level of emotional turmoil right now.

LR1

I keep futzing with the mantel (why is mantel styling so impossible for me?), but I LOVE this ridiculous/scary/amazing lady portrait. She’s HUGE and I found her in the trash a while ago in Brooklyn! The TRASH! Max always hated her so she was never allowed outside of my hoarding room, but one of the upsides to this whole break-up thingy is that now I can display all of my creepy art without consequences. Nothing says “single and sane” like this display, am I right?

SOMEBODY LOVE ME

I think she was a student art piece and the back of the canvas indicates that a boy named Brett painted her. Are you out there, Brett? Thank you for throwing your art away so that it could come live in my home. She brings me so much pleasure and joy on a daily/hourly/minutely basis.

chimneywallbefore

Controversial art aside, it’s come a long way from this, right? I love hanging out in this room.

womb

linus

mekko1

Oh, Mekko. You gorgeous pink moody thing. Keep living the life of endless lounging and leisure. I’ll try to finish more rooms for you.

Happy Birthday, Mekko! 4!

mekko1

My family always had a lot of pets. Not, like, a creepy amount of pets, but enough pets. There was one dog, and then there were two, and shortly thereafter my siblings and I were each allowed our own private living animal to teach us about responsibility. I got a hamster. My sister had a guinea pig. My brother had a small exotic tree frog indigenous to the South American rainforest, whose talents included changing sexes at will, devouring live crickets, and making loud chirping sounds in the middle of the night. The idea was that we’d each care for our own creature independently, and I suppose we did, insofar as children really can do anything independently. The duty still fell to my mother to take us to the pet store for fresh bedding and hay, or to point out when our rooms were developing that pungent odor that meant it was time to give their various enclosures a good scrub-down. Somehow—at what seems now like the very birth of the Internet—my mother found a place online that allowed her to have a cylindrical container of live crickets for the frog sent through the postal service and delivered straight to our mailbox. The pet store was only a 15 minute drive away and they always had loads of crickets, and at the time I remember feeling like the whole charade was sort of silly—a solution to a problem that didn’t exist in the first place. Where did these crickets even come from? How many people had to be involved with the packaging, handling, and delivery of these crickets? Is this really what Scott, our mailman, signed up for when he took on our route?

What I’ve realized in adulthood that I didn’t adequately understand as a child is that having crickets delivered through the mail cut out one small thing for my mother to worry about. That’s a big deal when you spend so much time dealing with the constant issues and minute problems of three small children and five pets. The key to keeping up was efficiency and practicality. I’m aware now that parents these days will often book a doctor’s appointment for their children at the slightest sign of a sniffle, but my mom’s strategy was typically to let time and over-the-counter medications take care of things, unless they began to look somewhat serious. The same was true for the pets. I have a feeling my mom will resent this characterization, so I’d like to point out that we were well cared for and, where pets were concerned, highly indulged. My hamster was, after all, treated to multiple rounds of life-saving antibiotic regimens and her life ultimately ended after several days of overnight care at the vet’s office. But the general philosophy was that serious reactions were reserved for times when chances of extreme misery or death seemed high. Otherwise, a little Tylenol and daytime TV could probably fix it.

It’s a logic that still makes sense to me. If Max had it his way, we’d be at the vet’s office at least a couple times a week, the dogs getting poked and prodded and tested for exotic medical conditions he read about online. He worries constantly and endlessly that they might drop dead at any moment. I think I’m a pretty reasonable, responsible pet owner, but next to him I’m basically a scene from Old Yeller. 

That’s how it was a few weeks ago, when Mekko threw up as Max was getting ready for work. It wasn’t a lot of vomit. Max insisted that I take her directly to the vet, and I told him that she was probably fine (Pit Bulls have notoriously finicky stomachs) but that I’d keep an eye on things, and he told me that if she died it would be all my fault. Noted. Good chat.

As soon as he walked out the door, though, I heard it. That gurgling, weird sound that dogs only make when they’re puking.

The expression on a dog’s face after it’s vomited is the saddest thing in the world. Not only do they feel sick, but they feel really guilty about being sick, and they want nothing more than for you to know how guilty they feel.

We walked a few steps down the hallway back toward the kitchen so I could grab the paper towels and a slice of bread to help settle her stomach a little. Then it happened. She just…stopped. Then she kind of crouched. Our eyes were locked, and hers grew three times in size. She looked like she was about to sit down, but then she stopped halfway. This is the conversation we had, telepathically:

“Come to the kitchen, baby! You’re OK.”
“I can’t. I can’t move from this spot.”
“Mekko, why aren’t you moving?”
“I can’t.”
“Mekko, are you…shitting??”
“I think so. I think I am shitting.”
“Oh my god. Oh my god. Um. I officially don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t either. This is all happening so fast.”
“Oh dear lord, that is just disgusting. Oh Mekko. Oh Honey.”
“OH GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME I’M SO SORRY.”
“Holy fuck, this is foul.”
“WHY IS THIS HAPPENING. WHAT IS COMING OUT OF ME.”
“I’ve never seen this before. I never want to see this again. I literally don’t even know how to clean this up.”

And then it was over. We just stood there, staring at each other, both of us sort of frozen in shock and inaction. Saddest Thing in the World II: perfectly healthy, relatively normal dog momentarily looses complete control of bowels. Then she ran to the couch and hid in shame.

I decided to stay home and monitor her for a few hours, and that was the end of it. Whatever it was had evacuated itself from her system, and by noon she was acting completely normal, if still a bit humble and apologetic.

The severity of the foulness of that day continues to haunt me weeks later, but in a way, I think it brought Mekko and I closer together. That’s kind of how it is when you have a dog. They can take a massive, explosive crap on your floor while staring you directly in the eye, and you’ll still think they’re the most special, endearing thing on the planet.

We’ve had Mekko for 2 years today, which is crazy both because it seems to have gone by in the blink of an eye and because it’s so hard to remember what it was like without her. I realized last night that if I knew me two years ago—less than a year after meeting Max, still a student, and very unsure about so many things—I would have told me that I was crazy to adopt a super energetic 2 year old Pit Bull with a mysterious past from a shelter I knew nothing about after walking her around a city block for five minutes. I would have told me to get a grip, and that when the time was right, I’d find the right dog. Someday, but not today.

But that’s the thing…maybe there are better and worse times to adopt a dog (or do all sorts of things, really), but there’s never really a right time. There’s never really a time that’s just GREAT for the potty training and the added expenses and the unexpected vet visits and the bad behavior and the enormous puddles of shit on your floor first thing in the morning, and all of the many things that come along with being a pet owner. But you make it work.

Mekko is a great dog. I’m so glad we met her, and I’m so glad we brought her home. I can’t imagine my life without her, and I can’t believe she’s already FOUR! Happy birthday, Mekko! Here are some snapshots of the birthday girl from the past year:

mekko-collage

Mekko is a Pit Bull Terrier, one of the world’s most misunderstood and unfairly stigmatized dog breeds. Pit Bulls are incredibly kind, patient, loyal, affectionate, intelligent, and resilient, and I’m so glad that we adopted one. It’s estimated that around 90% of Pit Bulls brought to shelters in the United States are euthanized, and that only 1 in 600 will ever find a forever home—so please, if you are considering getting a dog, please think seriously about adopting a Pit. Further, if you have a dog, please spay/neuter and encourage others to do the same. 

We adopted Mekko from Sean Casey Animal Rescue in Brooklyn, an organization that works tirelessly to rescue animals in need, with a particular focus (though not exclusive) on Pit Bulls. Every year, I make a donation to help them continue the work that saved our dog. If you’d like to donate too, you can do so here. Every little bit helps!

Life
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The Guest Bedroom is Like a Real Room and Stuff.

before

One of my favorite rooms in our whole house is what I’m sure was originally a nursery. It’s very small, on the corner of the second floor, and accessible from both the hallway and the main bedroom——meaning that it has two large doors, two large windows, and a radiator. For some reason every time I post a floor plan of the second floor, I wind up with loads of comments suggesting that I turn it into a third bathroom, but there’s no way that’s happening. Aside from the obvious plumbing nightmare, I like it way too much as a room. It’s filled with light, it’s super cute, and it’s probably looked more or less like this for 150 years or so already (we’ve yet to nail down an exact date of our house…partially because I’m a little lazy and preoccupied and partially because it’s complicated stuff!), and I don’t really want to mess with that. It even has the original gas light fixture! It’s too nice to be a closet and too small and awkward to make a great office, so for now we’re using it as a small bedroom, as intended.

mekkoandlinusonbed

After we got a little smart and ditched the queen-sized air mattress for a real mattress for our own room, we kind of just threw the air mattress in here for guests. It took up basically the entire room. Very often we’ve had actual guests, but when it isn’t Nora’s room (or Chandler’s room, or Katie’s room, or Emily’s room), it’s Mekko’s room. Mekko is a little diva when it comes to her sleeping arrangements——she doesn’t like to be crowded by Max and Linus and I, so she elects to sleep on her own at night, and who am I to deny her that small luxury? Sometimes during the day she’ll allow Linus entry into her domain, but only if he promises not to lick her or impede on her ability to sprawl.

After a while, I began to feel a little bit guilty about forcing our houseguests to sleep in a glorified dog crate, though, so Max and I started keeping our eyes out for a cute little twin bed that would fit the room better.

amvets

Hooray for quick trips to the city of Buffalo. Hooray for AmVets. Hooray for $20 bed frames. So many hoorays.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: thrift stores very often have tons of vintage bed frames, I assume because they don’t sell very well. The matching rails are usually in a weird pile somewhere nearby, so it’s just a matter of finding the right pieces. Then you’ll want to MEASURE, since old beds can sometimes be non-standard sizes——and while it’s possible to modify and old frame to fit a standard mattress (or have a mattress and sheets made to fit the bed), that’s a whole headache I’d rather avoid. So. MEASURE. It’s very hard to eyeball it when it comes to bed frames——they ALWAYS look tiny without a mattress. You can pull up standard mattress sizes on your cell phone while you wait. Then you can cut the slats yourself out of 1×4 pieces of lumber at any home improvement store. BAM. Easy bed.

Also: regular mattress, no box-spring. No pillow-top thick monster mattress shenanigans. Max and I have bought both of our mattresses at a Sleepy’s clearance warehouse center at steep discounts, and they’re both great mattresses. Never pay full price.

That is everything I know about buying beds. Use this information responsibly.

guestroomfromdoor

We really aren’t even close to making this room a real priority and have just sort of thrown thrifted stuff in it, but it actually looks pretty adorable! Mekko feels super civilized about it, as you can tell.

Based on the condition, I’m guessing the bed frame is from the 1950s or so, but these spool “Jenny Lind” beds have been produced for approximately forever——this style (with turned corners on the headboard and footboard) began to be produced around the 1850s (you can read a good history of these beds here!). Even though it’s a little sweeter and more traditional than the stuff I’m normally attracted to, I like that it’s cute and classic and goes well with the house. I think Max and I are both having fun mixing things up, here——we’re buying furniture slowly and as we find it, with the loose criteria that we love it and that we have a place for it, and we’ll just sort of see where it all lands and how it plays together. Also, $20 bed.

sidetable

I bought those little teak side tables this weekend off Craigslist! Good news: $20. Less good news: I traversed both a nearby nursing home and a clandestine gas station meeting to procure these tables. Long story. But they’re here now, and they’re cute!

The little rug weaving thing came from an auction. Yeah. I go to AUCTIONS now. Steppin. It. Up.

Separate post. Exciting times. Auctions are bananas.

I thought the colors were a little bright and silly and not my taste, but I bought it anyway because it was cheap (I AM HUMAN I AM FLAWED) and then Max threw it on the floor in here and it looked cute! I know, I am full of exciting stories today.

chairlitho

I hung art! I had it in my head that it didn’t make sense to hang art until the walls are restored and painted, but you know what? That’s going to take a long time. I’ve accepted it. My time is limited. The least I can do is grab a hammer and a couple hooks and just start hanging stuff up so it isn’t sitting around in piles. What’s one more tiny hole to patch? Nothing, that’s what.

I like this funny little litho, though. We found it at a yard sale a couple of weeks ago. It kind of toes the fine line between pretty and ugly, between tacky and not-tacky, which is sort of how I like most things in my life to be. Aside from my body. Everything else should be a little ugly.

It maybe needs a better frame at some point, but whatever. I’m into it and its weird 80s-ness. I can’t explain. Art just has to speak to your soul.

In addition: chair! True to form, I have been slowly accumulating a very stupid and nonsense amount of chairs I don’t need and someday will probably have to get rid of when my friends and family mock me. Right now, though, I can put them in corners and pretend people will sit on them. Who doesn’t want to just sit in a chair in a corner under that magnificent bright blue 80s lithograph? I don’t know anybody who wouldn’t want that out of this little room.

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Here are some more snapshots, in case you’re not following all the complex data being thrown your way. Cute dog. Cheap bed. Cheap rug. Cheap tables. Cheap chair.

I have no idea where Mekko’s bandana came from. It just showed up in our apartment one day, so we put it on her. She’s pleased to look even more androgynous than ever.

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I’m excited to really get to work on this room someday. It has the same American Radiator Company “Rococo” style radiator as the rest of the house (except smaller and flesh-colored), that crazy gas fixture, and a beautiful old sash-lock with a little ceramic knob just waiting to be stripped and restored. I want to make sure it’s staying a bedroom before making any big decisions about it (wallpaper? overhead light? rug? furniture? curtains? blinds? did I miss anything?), but anyway. It’s going to be way cute.

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Until then, Mekko is not complaining.

 

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