introducing fuzzy fridays

Thanks to the dogs I work with, I have an impressive stash of adorable photos.  What exactly is the point of that if I can't share the cuteness with someone else?  So, to help launch your weekend with a smile on your face, I'll be posting one every Friday.   

This is Brody.  He's a three-month-old lab who loved sticks above all else until he met snow last week.  Now his favorite activity is plowing headfirst into snow drifts.  He's the reason that I'm looking forward to the next winter storm.

Happy weekend all!  Hope it's full of whatever you love best.  

is that a diet coke in your purse or are you just happy to see me?

I finished my very guilty pleasure, a Diet Coke, on the Boston-bound train platform this afternoon and suddenly, I was saddled with an empty aluminum can and nothing but garbage bins for disposal.  For convenience sake, I could have dropped it off.  It's just one can after all.  But I couldn't shake the thought of it sitting in a dump for at least the next 80 years.  Instead, I tucked it into my purse for the day until I found a recycling bin (it ended up being the one in my kitchen).  

We face small choices like that one every day: take the easy road, or accept a minor inconvenience for the betterment of something bigger than ourselves.  What's an afternoon in my purse compared to a lifetime in a landfill?        

weekend highlights: homebodies

afternoon with my bread bible

first real snow of the season

ripping seems for my upcycled bag

second keg installation

french onion soup

Six inches of snow really isn't a lot by New England standards but it gave me an excuse to spend the weekend puttering around the house, making things, and chattering at my husband.  My new purse is coming along and should be done by the end of this week.  The pain ordinaire carême that I made on Sunday afternoon came out perfect with a crackly crust.  No pictures of that though - we were too busy devouring it.

where the homesteading happens

When we bought our condo in 2009, it was after half a year of searching and no fewer than 100 real estate appointments.  Our demands weren't outlandish - just a modest home with good bones that needed some TLC.  Instead, we saw houses that reeked of gas fumes, that were sheltering squatters and angry raccoons in the basements, that had black mold filled attics.  Finally, we found our little gem in the suburbs.  It was the least maintained condo in the complex but it was structurally sound.  The inside was a sea of beige 80s decor that we gladly looked past. 

Over the past few years, we've renovated one of the bathrooms, redone the front hall, and painted the bedroom.  This past fall, we tackled the kitchen and finally, FINALLY, it's the kitchen of my dreams.

Instead of sending the cabinets to the dump, we gave them new life with a fresh coat of paint and some simple hardware.  The wood that used to enclose the top portion was pulled down, opening up much needed storage space.  Beau's turning those scraps into shelves for the basement

The appliances have been replaced with all energy-efficient models.  The hideous microwave from the late Cretaceous period was exchanged for a hood that keeps me from smoking out the house when I cook dinner.  We picked basic subway tiles for the backsplash.

We hung up a pot rack and magnetic knife strip over the extended countertop, which is now my official bread making headquarters.  After much deliberation, we went with granite instead of the recycled glass counters that we both love so much.  In this case, resale value won out over environmentally friendliness.  Sigh.  Next time, Gadget...      

The walls got a fresh coat of non-beige paint.  The floors are bamboo, a quicker growing alternative to regular hardwoods.  The counters and floors were the only parts that professionals helped with.  The rest was accomplished in our spare time.   We still spend most of our free time in the kitchen actually.  It's our favorite bar, restaurant, and hang out.  Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back in there.

the hannibal lecter of accessories

Have you ever loved a purse so much that you refused to let it go, even when it clearly needed to be put out of its misery?  I have.  The pockets!  The color!  The cowboy-chic hardware!

I can't remember how long ago I found it at Marshalls, but the important part is that I did and it was only $20.  If I saw it in a store today, I wouldn't buy it.  First, it was pleather and I'm working on reducing my plastic intake.  Second, it was made in China and if the manufacturer doesn't have a clear, public policy on labor rights, I tend to assume that the people making it abroad weren't paid a fair wage.  That sort of limits my options for replacing it, so I've been holding out for eons, unable to mend the pleather without breaking my sewing machine.  Meanwhile, the handles continued to catch on doorknobs, stick shifts, and bannisters, and my beloved purse ripped a little more every day.  

Finally, I got the message.  My mother-in-law bought me a beautiful new leather bag for Christmas that will last for ages.  Too beautiful to carry with me while dog walking.  As if my family members already knew that, my sister-in-law picked out some great sturdy fabrics for my stash.  All I need to turn the fabric into a purse is some hardware and lining fabric.  Guess where I found them.

Yep, I cannibalized my favorite purse.  Bags must tell urban legends about me - that girl who'll show you a good time and then steal your kidneys zippers when you least expect it.  The pleather has been deposited in the garbage, but these bits will live on.  


P.S. A warm welcome to anyone joining from the Homestead Barn Hop!