When I Get Bored, I Paint.

I have a problem with sitting still.

Faced with a weekend of no plans, I find myself physically incapable of just sleeping in, vegging out, and watching endless amounts of garbage TV. Don't get me wrong — I can work my way through a random series just as well as the next gal, but it's always accompanied by some chore, some project, some other task.

That's how I ended up painting my coffee cart a few weeks ago.

In the midst of my flurry of little projects, I began toying with the idea of adding some more color to my apartment. Yes, the photos helped, but the fact remains that I live in a giant, beige box filled with endless amounts of light-colored wood. Painting the walls is too large of a cost and undertaking, but I could paint more furniture. And after my dresser project, I've fallen ever more in love with the idea of a deep, rich navy as a neutral. So I decided to paint my cart to match.

Nothing like some quality time in the dungeon, listening to My Favorite Murder, and inhaling paint fumes. Best weekend ever.

I like.

About Time

Most people start off the new year with resolutions like "lose weight," "learn to play the guitar," or "kiss more boys" (just me?). I kicked off 2017 with the realization that I've been in my new apartment for almost six months and it was still missing some key elements. It was livable, sure. But was it at its most functional? More importantly, was it in a state where I'd want to have people over?

The looming milestone was enough to finally light a fire under my ass to pull the trigger on some stuff that never felt important enough in the midst of Christmas shopping and anxiety-inducing credit card bills. First things first: it was time to go to IKEA.

It's important to have a game plan before even stepping foot inside the giant warehouse, and this was mine: (1) replace the broken frame that was part of my postcard gallery wall, (2) get a better organization option for my makeup, and (possibly) (3) get some more plants.

#1: got it. #2: accomplished

With the exit in sight, there's where my resolve unraveled. I had tried to resist throwing other stuff into my bag during the long walk through the showroom, but when I spotted the large square option in the Ribba frame series, I knew it'd be a great option for the wall next to the fridge. (The print I had hung originally just looked too dinky.)

And hey, while I was at it, why not snag two more to hang near the closet? They might not be noticeably visible all the time, but open wall space is limited in my apartment, so I want to take advantage wherever I can. I hobbled to the cash register with three more Ribbas than planned.

So, now that I got these frames, I needed something to put in them. After polling friends and family, I landed on these three faves from my travels:

Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore

Bryce Canyon

Glacier National Park

I compared a few options, but ultimately went with prints from Walgreens (CVS, Snapfish, and Target were also in the running), and I was very pleased with how they turned out.

Trying to narrow down my favorite photos to just these three reminded of how many great shots I had that I also wanted to be able to display. I toyed with the idea of getting three or four smaller frames to perch on the ledge by my stairs, but worried that they'd look crowded and bulky.

One of my coworkers had some prints from Artifact Uprising and Parabo Press on her desk, and I really liked the square format on thicker paper, complete with a white border. This style would allow me to show off photos without necessarily needing to frame them, so it seemed like the perfect solution. I ordered from Parabo Press because they were running a promotion that allowed me to get 25 larger-format prints for just $5, plus shipping. Sold.

Based on the quality of photos that I received (along with the thoughtful packaging job), I'd highly recommend trying Parabo Press, especially if you have some favorite Instagram pics you want to print. 

Now that I had the prints, the remaining issue was: how to display them? 

I had this idea to make a little ledge that would prop up several photos at a time, but wasn't exactly sure how to pull this off. During a little Friday night visit to the Home Depot (isn't that how everyone spends their Friday night?), I saw my solution: two squared-off dowels and a narrow strip of wood cut down to size.

The dowels were about three feet long, which fit my space perfectly, and I used the in-store saw to cut down the wooden strip to match. At home, I applied some stain I had, and then glued the dowels to the wooden strip, which acted as the base. All done, I had a thin opening between the two dowels that allowed the photos to easily rest upright. Total cost? Probably less than $5, assuming you have glue and stain on hand (or don't care about staining).

Last on my list of frenzied updates was based on a suggestion from my mom. While visiting, she mentioned that a shelf in the bathroom might be a nice addition, and I was getting sick of moving my makeup tray every time I needed to throw laundry in the hamper, so I started to think maybe she was onto something.

While I was at Home Depot, I wandered to the lumber section and started chatting with my new best friend, Chet. I described my project, and stressed how little wood I needed and that I'd be interested in the cheapest option possible. He found me a damaged board that was completely fine on one end — one that he wouldn't be able to sell as-is — and cut off the end for me. I think I was only charged a couple bucks for it.

This brings me to my hardware store lesson #2 (number one is always bring your own measuring tape): don't be afraid to talk to the people who work there. There are a lot of idiots who won't know anything, but there will always be at least one or two gems who will go out of their way to help you out.

I picked up two metal brackets that looked cool, brought home my piece of wood, sanded and stained it, and then I was ready. Time to hang it. 

Just one problem: the "cool design" of the brackets made one of the screw holes near impossible to access, and the instructions on the back were nothing but (inaccurate) pictures. (Give me words, people!)

So, I did what I always do when faced with a puzzling dilemma: I called my dad.

While we were chatting, I had a revelation and figured out the bracket problem, so my dad moved on to trying to tell me how to go about screwing the holes.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, father. Let's put a pause on the mansplaining here. I know what an anchor is. I know how to use an electric drill.

"Okay, but when you're drilling into the board itself, you want to be careful or else you'll go all the way through, so you should —" he tried to tell me.

"— put a piece of tape on the drill bit to indicate just how far I should drill. I know, I know," I said. "Dad, do you know who you're talking to, here? I'm Lisa freakin' Lombardi, man."

I'm don't think he'd ever been more proud.

It's totally true that the small victories are just as important as the big ones.

Dresser Shenanigans

Like most of my more ridiculous ideas, it started with asking Katie for help.

You might recall Katie as the recipient of my infamous jellypenis painting. The fact that she proudly displays this in her apartment says a lot about her willingness to put up with my idiotic schemes.

"Can you do me a favor?"

I innocently tested the waters and then quickly launched into the backstory.

"So I was supposed to pick up this dresser from Craigslist last night, but the girl changed the pickup time and I wouldn't have had anyone to help me unload my car at that point. And I needed my car empty to pick up those chairs the next day. So I had to cancel our arrangement...but the dresser is still for sale. And she's moving out tomorrow. And I still want it."

And, more importantly, I felt like the seller might be willing to agree to a lower price than we had arranged, since she was getting down to the wire. But I had already tried negotiating, and then bailed, so I didn't have the best track record with this person.

"So...you want me to respond to the Craigslist ad for you?" Katie asked.

She just gets me.

This is the dresser I was obsessed with.

My job often requires me to scope out competitor furniture retailers, and when I stumbled upon this dresser from Land of Nod, I was hooked. 

It was bold. It was glamorous yet handsome. It was the low, wide style I was looking for. (Though, okay, probably bigger than I realistically needed.)

It was eleven-hundred-freaking-dollars.

After watching it for months, I knew there was no way it would ever drop into what I would consider an acceptable price range. So I went with Plan B: find a campaign-style dresser on Craigslist and treat it to a fresh coat of paint.

That's how I ended up outside an apartment building in Somerville on a Thursday evening, prepared to introduce myself as Kathryn.

I shouldn't have worried. The girl was so relieved to get rid of the thing that she simply opened the door and led me upstairs without confirming who I was. (Fabulous. I'm terrible at lying.)

If you were reading the blog of a normal, sane person, the next step would be to take the dresser home. This, however, is my blog. So, like the weirdo I am, I then drove on to a hockey game in downtown Boston, where I deposited my car (filled to capacity with an old dresser and drawers) in the sketchiest parking lot ever. And I went to see my Red Wings crush the Bruins.

Maybe it was the rush of the win. Maybe it was all those extra sessions of Kick It class. Maybe it was a tear in the space-time continuum. I honestly have no explanation for how it happened, but it did: when I got home from the game, I unloaded the dresser and carried it into my apartment. By myself.

To provide a little context for this anomaly, you should know that my nickname during high school summer softball was "Twig." Friends have been known to refer to me as "tiny."

You know those stories about moms who lift cars off their kids in moments of extreme stress? Me, I lift heavy pieces of furniture when I know I need to drive my car to a date the next day.

One of the nicest things about my new apartment is that it comes with a huge, dark, scary storage area. I think most people would probably only venture in there to do laundry and leave it be the rest of the time, but the second my landlord showed it to me, I knew it was destined to become my own personal dungeon-slash-work room.

The entire makeover process took a few weeks. First, I needed to clean the thing, remove all the hardware, sand down the chips and scratches the best I could, and slap together a new corner using layers and layers of spackle (I don't recommend this remedy, but hey, it worked).

Once that was done, I primed it all, and then it was the moment of truth: picking the right paint color.

I'd like to say that I was smart and got a couple tester cans so I could be sure of the color before committing, but I totally didn't and bought the wrong color on the first try. Don't be like me, folks.

This is about the point where I called Katie in a panic and told myself over and over again that I was an idiot. Fun times painting!

My second pick was much, much better, and I actually only needed the small tester can to cover the entire dresser in two coats of paint. Go figure.

Meanwhile, the metal knobs, pulls, and corner pieces could use a little help. Initially, I tried just scrubbing everything with a mixture of salt and white vinegar, but that didn't have much effect. Steel wool and Barkeeper's Friend, however, did the trick.

Here's where I ended up:

It's not a perfect match for the Land of Nod one, but the influence is there! And I like that it's completely different from anything I've ever had before. (Okay, and I like that it was one-tenth the cost of the original, too.)

Now my clothes are all put away and my apartment is starting to look less like it was hit by a tornado. Can you say "progress"?

PSA: Watco Danish Oil is the Shit.

We've already established that I've been a regular Craigslisting fiend lately, but what I skimmed over in my last post is the fact that these finds usually don't arrive in pristine condition.

Take my glorious, beautiful chairs. General Assembly, a company here in Boston that hosts professional development classes (think stuff about online marketing, coding, engineering, etc.), was moving their offices and needed to unload 14 of these puppies, so I jumped on the opportunity. However, due to some crazy planning on my part, I wasn't able to pick up my four until the last available day.

Translation: I got the ones that no one else wanted.

That's not to say that I regret my decision, but I did feel a little knot of worry when I was loading them into the car. There were some fairly noticeable scratches and gouges in the wood, and one had a particularly dark stain on the woven seat. But how much can you complain when you're getting something for reportedly 10% of the original price?

Deep breaths. I could fix this.

You know how when you first move out on your own and really start cooking for yourself, you realize that recipes call for all these spices and seasonings? And that stuff is actually really freaking expensive? It sucks buying everything for the first time, but then you're pretty much set for the next 5-10 years. (I cook pretty exclusively with paprika, garlic powder, and cinnamon. Everything else is virtually untouched.) (Don't be me. Throw away your spices after like, a year.)

Anyway, that's how it is when you first start building an arsenal of tools and magical potions acquired from the Home Depot. Luckily, I've already dipped my toes in that water and had some handy things already waiting in the closet to come to my aid. Namely: steel wool, Murphy Clean & Shine for wood furniture, and Watco Danish Oil in natural.

A little elbow grease, a little actual grease, and some oil later, and my chairs were looking pretty great. The scuffs buffed out and those ugly scrapes and gouges? Completely filled in by the oil.

All that was left was the stain.

I threw everything I had at it. Oxyclean. Mineral spirits. Nail polish remover. (I'm pretty sure it's paint.) And while I'm still not convinced there isn't more I can try, I'm pretty pleased with how far it's come.

Plus, I plan on either have it tucked in under a table or draped with a throw blanket the majority of the time anyway, so I'm not too disappointed.

I officially have seating for six now! Whoo! Party at my place. Except not, because the only kinds of parties I like are parties I can leave at any moment.

If I Can Do it, You Can: Refreshing Butcher Block

When I moved into my current apartment, I knew that one of the first things I needed to do was find a way to add more counter space and storage to the kitchen. If you don't recall, it used to look like this:

Don't worry, everything you need to know about is shown in the photo. That small strip of countertop where the sink is on the left? That's literally the only surface area in the entire room. Maybe satisfactory for two dudes who don't cook, but I knew it would be a problem for me. So I hunted down a coffee cart on Craigslist and a kitchen island at a garage sale, and those helped turn that depressing space into this:

That was about three years ago, and I LOVE that island. It's not really my style, but it's a total workhorse and there's no way I'd be able to feed myself without it. So, when I woke up to a forecast of crappy weather and absolutely nothing scheduled, I decided to refinish the top.

You know, as one randomly decides to do at 10:30 in the morning on a Saturday.

Some quick Googling confirmed that it's a fairly straightforward process involving my number one activity in the whole wide world: sanding! JOY. You can read the directions from a legit source here, but it basically boils down to: (1) sand with medium grit paper, (2) sand with fine grit paper, (3) sand with even finer grit paper (if you're fancy like me), and (4) wax on, wax off.

So I broke out the trusty power sander and got to work, not realizing until the dust began to fly that, maybe, I should have changed out of my pajamas first.

Eh, whatever.

Here's what the top used to look like:

Lotta rings and water marks going on there, from before I added a protective bottom to my vintage tobacco cans.

Once everything was sanded down and smooth, I wiped away the sawdust and started in with the Feed-N-Wax. Not only is it good for the butcher block, but it makes the wood look pretty and smells like oranges.

And when I was all done, the kitchen island was back to looking shiny and new! Or, at least, as new as it was when I bought it used from some family in Jamaica Plain. MAGIC.

Whoop whoop! So there you go. Adrienne thinks this is "fancy," but as you can see, if a sometimes-idiot like me can do it, pretty much anyone can. (As long as you own a power sander. Which pretty much everyone should anyway. Oh, the FUN that comes with it!)

A Different Kind of Retail Therapy

If I had to pick a moment that perfectly encapsulated my adolescent awkwardness, it would be this: 

It's the seventh grade. Despite feeling the scarlet mark of "new girl" even after a full year in Michigan, I've managed to wrangle an invite to the most glamorous of middle school events: the bat mitzvah. I'm wearing black platform sandals, a shiny, spaghetti-strapped dress from Kohl's, and am rocking a flowering vine tattoo on my bicep, courtesy of the airbrush artist that's set up near the drinks table. I don't yet realize that I have curly hair, so my shoulder-length bob is brushed to maximum bushy capacity. Unfortunately, I'm still several years away from the magical straightening effects of my braces — which, coincidentally, color-coordinate with my blue dress! (On the plus side, I'm pretty sure I've at least graduated to contacts at this point.)

Awww yeah.

Most of the night has been spent dancing enthusiastically to the Backstreet Boys and N*Sync, but the DJ soon switches to the first slow song of the night. One by one, boys that are still several inches shorter than me ask some of the more popular girls to dance, and then just other girls, period.

I remain on the sidelines. And it sucks.

When shopping at places like The Goodwill Store, it's so tempting to be like those seventh grade boys and pass over anything that's less than perfect. You walk up and down the dirty, unswept aisles and wonder where your mint-condition MCM dresser is, where your $6 Tulip chair is to be found. (I don't know where one does find those things, but I'll tell you this: it's not at the Allston Goodwill.) You leave behind the endless array of novelty mugs, the assortment of grandmotherly baskets, and the small Dollar Store frames that come with black and white images of Girl Laughing To Herself or Perfect Family in Park.

But friends, you (we!) are missing out. Because some things just need a little help to reach their true potential. In my case, that involved prescription acne cream, copious amounts of mousse, and the self-awareness to finally, for the love of God, put down the stretchy choker.

As for these frames? All they required was a single can of quality gold spray paint.

(Sidenote: How great/awful is that plastic shower curtain I use as a dropcloth? When we moved in, our realtor gave us a care package that included this shower curtain, a sponge, some individually wrapped aspirin, and plastic hooks. I dare anyone to come up with a more random assortment of move-in goodies.)

During my original jaunt to Michael's a few weeks back, I selected a can of Krylon Metallic Gold, excited to pick up everything I needed in one place. Mistake! The Krylon came out as as greenish-gold, that shade you might see on furniture from the 70s or cheap earrings that have started to turn. I'm sure I'll find a use for it, but not for this project. So I went to Blick's and coughed up the couple extra bucks for a can of Montana Black in what turned out to be the perfect shade of gold. Lesson learned.

I laid out my dropcloth, opened the windows for as long as I dared to in the middle of January, and got to painting. First a couple thin coats of primer, then the gold. My strategy was to pick frames with an interesting shape or textures and try to ignore everything else that may have been hideous about them. It was hard. 

Really hard.

But I pressed on. I embodied the spirit of an enlightened 13-year-old boy, looking past superficial blemishes in favor of hidden beauty. 

And now I have this.

A nearly complete collection of interesting frames that will make some great wall décor in their own right. Don't get me wrong, I love art as much as the next person, but I'd rather collect stuff I like at my own pace than just splurge on a bunch of prints that are just so-so, all for the sake of filling the ginormous blank wall we have in the dining room.

A couple more frames (i'm hoping for one or two non-rectangular ones to balance out the mix), along with the completion of my other secret project, and we'll be good to go. Unless, of course, my progress is stalled again by yet ANOTHER blizzard.

Moving south is looking more and more appealing with every passing day.

A Few Things.

Happy New Year and all that jazz!

1. I'm still alive. 
    
2. I meant to get out an Operation: Christmas Cheer, Step 3 post before Christmas. Obviously, I failed at that, so let me sum up what it would have consisted of: bake delicious stuff (these turned out surprisingly well for Christmas morning) and watch Christmas movies/shows (Elf, A Muppet Christmas Carol, SNL Christmas Special: check)
    
3. Aside from Christmas-related crafting, I lost a lot of my creative drive in December, and am currently fighting against my annual January-induced, month-long malaise. But I have some ideas that might be worth changing out of my pajamas and leaving the house for. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, one of my best friends has finally moved back to the States after way too many years away, and in the process of getting ready to move her stuff out of storage, she unearthed this gem:

Hi, my name is Lisa, and I'm a DIY gifter.

It's not an addiction I'm particularly proud of, and I fully blame Pinterest and HGTV for feeding what was originally an innocent "Hey! I like to make things!" mindset.

I made this for Katie when I was living in Pennsylvania, working at a job I hated in a town I hated more. I had no friends, I lived alone, and I had way, waaaaaay too much free time. Katie's a marine biologist, so it's not a completely random choice of subject matter, but it wasn't until I'd finished it and proudly shared my accomplishment with Adrienne that it was pointed out to me how it bears a certain likeness to a certain part of the male anatomy. 

Yup. High on all that focused crafting excitement, I'd inadvertently made my best friend a three-foot-tall painting of a jellypenis.

This, of course, didn't stop me from giving it to her, because I have no shame. (That same year, I made Adrienne a giant wreath out of dictionary pages for her Christmas present, and had to then construct a house-shaped frankenstein box in order to ship it to her. I've been informed that it almost immediately fell to pieces upon arrival. Those were dark days.)

Nowadays, I try to rein in the urge to automatically (blindly) make someone their gift and, at the very least, pair a small-scale project (ornaments, for example) with something legit that they might actually want. I haven't managed to go cold turkey yet, but I have hope that one day I will be perfectly happy just purchasing nice things for my friends. Nice things that don't look like floating orange penises.

Unless, you know, that's what they asked for.

DIY Ornaments

I may not have my own tree to decorate, but I still have some pretty strong opinions regarding Christmas ornaments. To me, decorating the tree isn't about following trends or trying out a new theme every year. I'll take a messy macaroni ornament over a glittering, mass-produced trinket any day. Don't get me wrong — I'm just as easily swayed by pretty, shiny things as the next person. But the perfect Christmas tree requires the perfect mix of nostalgia, cheese, pretty, and tradition. It's a proportion that I think our family tree manages to nail (when my brothers and I are around to keep my mom's ornament collection in check).

For every trio of bright gold ball, detailed wise man, and sparkling santa, you need gems like this:

(Yes, that's an angel made out of construction paper, a paper plate, and yarn. And yes, it has only one star-sticker eye. I love it.)

For every ceramic gingerbread house, wooden nutcracker, and embroidered angel, there's this:

I believe this is Mrs. Claus, after a brutal attack by the family dog several years ago. Mr. Claus might not have survived that one. (The one-eyed theme is not intentional, I promise.)

It's all about balance, people. Great Christmas trees are cultivated over many, many years, not purchased in one swift attack on the Macy's ornament section. Which is why I've started the tradition of making ornaments for my friends who have reached the stage in their life where they actually have their own Christmas tree. Namely, Adrienne. (Katie, you're next!)

Per my Christmas tree philosophy, I try to do an even mix of tasteful and hilariously random ornaments. Last year's batch included this sad whale:

This year, I continued the felt theme because, well, I love felt. We've already established that I tend to craft like a second grader.

This year's batch, however, is clearly fourth grade-caliber. Felt sushi rolls, an embroidered vinyl record (or alien boob — you decide), an embroidered starburst thingy, and a clay ornament with the Brooklyn bridge. More specifically, an illustration of the Brooklyn bridge that Dominik did for their wedding invitation.

Can we talk openly about the fact that wedding-related ornaments and ornaments meant to celebrate a couple's first year of marriage all suck? After extensive research, I've found that the majority of them to fall on either end of the following spectrum:

The goal here is to strike that perfect balance of sentiment and taste, or what I like to call the "Aw" factor. And let me tell you, it's hard. One wrong step and you're embroidering the Webster's dictionary definition of marriage or modpodging a rhyme that references both cowboy boots and Jesus. 

But I think what I ended up with here is an acceptable offering, and — even better — a really easy method for making customizable ornaments. Ready? Here's what you need:

Materials

• Oven-bake clay (I used Fimo)
• Waxed paper
• A printer

That's it.

First, roll out your clay and cut into your desired shape. Don't tell your roommates, but the cookie cutters in the kitchen are pretty handy for this. Next, use a skewer or other makeshift tool to carefully poke a hole near the top for hanging the finished ornament by.

Bake the clay the for the proper amount of time until hard — the instructions will be on the wrapper, so try not to throw that away when you get caught up in the nostalgia of crafting with clay again. 

(Once baked, I gave the surface a light sanding with fine grit sandpaper. This might be completely unnecessary, but we all know that I'll take any excuse to break out the sandpaper.)

Next, figure out what image you want and insert it into a basic word document, sized to fit the surface of the ornament. I went with Dominik's drawing because (1) I really like the look of the simple lines and (2) the restaurant where we celebrated their wedding day was at the base of the Brooklyn bridge. Can I get an "Aw"?

Take your waxed paper and cut to the size of standard printer paper (or smaller, and then just tape to a piece of paper). Feed it into the printer and then press the magic button. Take the paper with the printed image and carefully place, ink side down, onto the surface of the ornament. Use your thumbnail to emboss the back of the paper and transfer all of the ink onto the clay. Then, simply peel away the waxed paper.

MAGIC.

Use your fanciest string, ribbon, or thread to add a loop and you're good to go. I also wrote Adrienne & Dominik's names on the back, along with their wedding date, because I'm sappy like that.

Congratulations! You can now go back to making tacky ornaments that your mom will try to "forget" to put out each year. But you will always find them and prevail, because no tree is complete without something like this guy:

Operation: Christmas Cheer, Step One

Christmas — like birthdays, snow days and New Year's Eve — loses approximately 87% of its magic when you get old enough to start worrying more about bills than whether or not you'll get the Nerf bow and arrow set that you asked for. When you're an adult, it's a choice to get into the holiday spirit, not a given. And now, two weeks into December, after endless days of rain, missed buses, lost wallets, and long workdays, I. am. ready.

Step one for gaining some Christmas cheer: Decorate.

I know, I know. You have a million excuses not to. Christmas is less than two weeks away. Your apartment is tiny. You don't want to spend the money. Blah blah blah. The solution I came up with trumps all those complaints.

Rather than dealing with a full-sized (ha, not gonna happen) or even miniature tree, I snagged a bunch of greenery from a flower shop on my way home from work. I prefer the long needles for a simpler, more classy look, but you go with your gut. For $8, this bunch was hefty enough to perfectly fill an old, industrial-sized olive jar that I had on hand (confession: I've had this since my days of catering in college, hoarded from a food prep day. My only regret is that I didn't snag more). But let's be real, you can't just toss a bunch of branches in a jar and call it a day.

I nested a pint glass inside the jar and surrounded it with old wine corks. On the off-chance that you're not a part-time bartender and don't just have piles and piles (seriously) of these hanging around, feel free to get creative with what you have. Live in the suburbs or the sticks? Collect some pinecones, acorns, or even rocks. Depending on the size of your vessel, you could fill it with clementines — they can get pretty tiny. Even just some plain kraft paper gently crumpled could look lovely. Go crazy. There are no rules, except for maybe one: try not to spend any money.

I filled the pint glass with water to help with making my greenery last and did my best to arrange the bunch into an evenly distributed bouquet. Since my choice of greenery doesn't have very strong branches (it's mostly needles), I opted against putting lights on the tree and went with a garland of gold stars that I had instead (see, Adrienne? I hang on to your gifts, too). The lights that we had from last year's tiny tree were perfect for winding around the base of the arrangement. (If there's one thing I would be okay spending money on, it's lights. They're the secret weapon for easy Christmas decorating and an instant fix of warm and fuzzy feelings.)

Nathan bought some battery operated candles to put in the windows last year, and while I was rummaging around for those, I came across the makeshift marquee I had whipped up then, too. Up it went, along with some candy canes we've had since last December. (Seriously, does anyone actually eat those?)

Note: In my opinion, the easiest way to fill space on a blank or otherwise just awkward wall is with a clothesline arrangement. Whether it's with twine and actual clothespins or fishing line and binder clips, I've used this method in every place I've lived since college. It's great for displaying all your favorite photographs or other two-dimensional keepsakes, it's easy to switch up, and it takes about five minutes to set up. Plus, it's especially useful for holidays and special occasions.

Makeshift tree? Check. Christmas lights? Check. Banner & candy canes? Check. All that was left were the snowflakes.

You learn a lot of important things in the second grade that stay with you for the rest of your life: Don't pick your nose. Stop, drop, and roll. And, most importantly, how to make some pretty sweet snowflakes with just printer paper and safety scissors.

Whether your snowflakes look like authentic cumulus offspring or bizarre, tribal-like symbols, you can take pride in knowing that, either way, they look really cool from the street.

I'll admit that the snowflakes took a little time, but then again, I'm always looking for an excuse to rewatch old episodes of obscure TV series. The rest of it, though? The tree? Took about as long as it did for me to make and enjoy a glass of hot spiced cider and bourbon. (Step 1b to cultivating Christmas cheer: booze.)

You can do it.

The Living Room: Today

Hey, remember this space? And Curious Andy, scoping out the neighborhood?

I figured it's probably time to take stock of the living room, seeing as it's considered the gathering space in most homes. A place to come together, share how your day went, and, of course, watch your roommates play endless rounds of Tecmo Bowl on the Nintendo. (It's football. I'd never heard of it, either. I stick to my Donkey Kong.)

The real hero of this room is Andy — or, Andy's relatives, if you want to get technical, because a lot of the big pieces were hand-me-downs from them. Andy might not show much interest in decorating, but the stuff he brings to the table is choice: that massive antique rug and the kick-ass old school desk are both his, and I LOVE them. In fact, it's because of Andy (I'm not just buying into the trends, I promise) that I'm kind of obsessed with perfectly aged, faded Persian rugs. As you'll see, he brought a couple more with him.

The sofa and loveseat were acquired through a carefully orchestrated Craigslist deal that I set up a good month before we even moved into the apartment. This pretty much never happens and I'm not sure how it did this time, but what matters is that we scored two major pieces for a couple hundred bucks, and I got to watch Andy and his friend, George, try to maneuver them up three flights of stairs. God bless them. There was a lot of pivoting involved. 

The Mission-esque coffee table (and to think, when I bought it, I didn't even know what Mission style was!) was another Craigslist score. I think in the first two months that we lived here, new things would appear so often that my roommates stopped even asking. I was a Craigslisting machine. (Fun game: drink every time I say "Craigslist" on this blog. Have fun blacking out.)

In a rare instance of Pinterest not misleading me, I got that huge black and white picture printed up at Staples using the engineer print option. It's a shot from my trip to Glacier National Park, and I like that it works both if you take a second to decipher what it's a picture of, and also if you just take it in as an abstract mess of shadows and shapes. $7, people. It's not forever, but it's a nice place-holder until something better comes along.

Look at that rug! So evenly faded. Such a lovely variety of colors — not too red, which is a pet peeve of mine when it comes to Persian rugs. And while the pattern is, yes, floral, it has a geometric quality that keeps it from feeling too precious. I've been hunting for something similar to put in the dining room for...oh, probably six months, now. No luck yet.

This is the iron base of the old green school desk that belonged to Andy's dad (possibly grandfather?). In the middle, there, you can see initials crafted in with the whirls and flourishes. Awesome. 

Also, we randomly have a wooden duck figurine. I don't know why or who it even belongs to. There's a llama floating around somewhere, too.

So if the rug and desk are Andy's major contributions, Nathan is responsible for everything music-related that you see. The guitar, the mandoline, the...other...instrument that's hanging on the wall — those are all his, and they're gorgeous pieces. I may or may not have enthusiastically encouraged the idea of him displaying them in the living room.

Also, if you can kind of make out the speakers that are in the left and right corners of the frame (the right one is sitting on top of the record stand), as well as the one that's visible in the previous picture, underneath the desk, those are all part of the surround-sound system he rigged up around the room. Using speakers he got at thrift stores, white electric tape, and plastic grommets for holding wires in place, he wired the whole room for sound. And if you were in the room yourself, you probably would never notice that it was all done old-school DIY.

Oh, and those pillows are Nathan's, too. He'd never heard of HomeGoods, and when I told him to check there for a rug for his bedroom, he was gone for more than THREE hours. From the sound of it, he was overwhelmed by all the stuff and suffered a décor-induced blackout. The only evidence of this trip are those pillows.

One last example of Nathan's ingenuity:

Yes folks, what you see mounted above the doorway between the living room and Andy's office is a homemade projection screen.

(The light in the living room is one of those string globe pendants that I attempted a few year back. There are zillions of tutorials online for them if you look; I didn't follow any one method.)

When unfurled, it provides us with a movie screen the size of the doorway, and to this day, I still think it's the coolest thing ever. We may not own a TV (a fact that baffles everyone I tell that to), but we have a digital projector that lets us play movies (there's a DVD/stereo setup in the dining room that I'll show one day), online video, and even video games. I know it's officially winter when someone caves and breaks out the Nintendo or Super Nintendo.

The black geometric wreath thingy is a craft project I did a few months ago while Nathan was exploring the tundra. When he came back and saw it for the first time, he thought it was made of metal, but it's actually just cocktail straws and floral wire. Ta-da!

Just for funsies, here's our entryway, which is practically part of the living room, itself.

Another awesome rug. The table and chair are all Andy, too. 

Hooray! Another space I'm not ashamed of.