Restore my Restoration Hardware!

I think Restoration Hardware has lost its mind.  Seriously.  My mailbox contained their latest catalog recently.  The store is undergoing a complete update and new direction.  Wow, I thought.  Interesting.  Um, no.  I read the statement from their leader and when I got to the part about how they'd been advised to...blah, blah, blah, but decided to venture off in a new direction, my brain went on alert.

Apparently, the "new direction" is to scour Europe for old architectural finds and such and then copy them for mass production and sell them at prices that nearly made lemonade shoot out my nose.  But these pieces are really awkward, a table with more legs than a centipede, and a dentist chair that just plain scared me.  Everything was presented in bland rooms of vanilla colored rugs, walls, and upholstery.  The concept is likened to a Gallery or Museum.

I don't know about you, but I don't ever want to live in a museum.  It wouldn't matter if I had a million dollars, that stuff wouldn't make it into my home.  And I like old stuff!

 I hope it all works out for RH.  Maybe it's like the awkward teen years, and decades from now they'll shake their heads and wish those pictures would just disappear.

Vacation

My love and I are concluding our little camping trip by staying in a lovely hotel in Port Townsend.  I've been here before with my Mom and loved the historic building and quirky Victorian touches in the rooms.  There's no A/C, but we have a nice box fan and large windows letting in the cool night breeze.  It's fairly quiet for a weeknight and tomorrow morning we'll go around the corner to the coffeehouse and have a baked treat with our strong coffee.  I'm looking forward to poking around in all the shops and fortunately, my favorites that I remembered are still in business.

As we drove from the shore to here, it's clear the economy has claimed many hotels and retail establishments, burying them under debt.  It's sad to see so many local businesses collapse, while Walmart thunders on, building new generic warehouses in prime real estate.  I complain about Walmart, and no matter how cheap their stuff is, refuse to shop there.  But then my son, who makes half of what I do, needs to shop there just to stretch his meager dollars.  I can't blame him, really.  It's hard to wrap my head around it.

Our break from the work-a-day world was not a dream trip to a far off destination I've never been.  Instead, we spent time with those we love and did the little things that we don't do everyday.  Slept in.  Read.  I quilted.  Walked the beach.  Played cards.  Ate simply.  Made love during the daytime. Forgot to shower. Bought beautiful shoes for $1.50.  Listened to the gulls.  Watched deer eat.  Took pictures.  Laughed, a lot.  And drove all day, stopping when we wanted to.

I found some lovely binding fabric for the baby's quilt and will get it sewn when we get home.  I'm so excited to take pictures to post and then give it away.  My next project is already bubbling in my brain and the fabric is waiting:  a five and dime quilt.

Like molasses in winter

It's hot!  Whew!  This afternoon I walked to the grocery for my lunch and the air is dense.  I can feel it settle around me like a sheet just out of the dryer.  Pretty nice, for a minute or two, but kind of suffocating after that.  Still, there is something I love about all this hotness, and that's the pace of things, or more aptly, MY pace of things.  I am moving slow.

I always thought that moving slowly meant lazy, or without purpose.  Boy, was I wrong.  I'm discovering that moving more slowly has everything do with being purposeful.  Concentrating on one thing at a time sure is nice.  I love it that taking the time to do things right is appreciated by the people I see daily while at the same time making my life less stressful.  Having my undivided attention makes others feel good, which in turn makes me feel damn good!  Keeping a moderate pace is my new mantra (but will not become a new tattoo).

This morning, I passed my son going the opposite direction down the highway, each of us to our respective worksites.  He was riding his new motorcycle.  Well, new to him; it was "pre-owned."  I know I should be worried about him riding it, don't get me wrong, I am.  Like any Mom, I quizzed him on having his helmet, a good jacket and boots, and insurance.  Thoughts of, "will he drive too fast? what if someone doesn't see him?" and a myriad of more what ifs are on my mind throughout the day.  But to balance that is to see the absolute joy on his face when he talks about riding.  He stood in my living room, helmet in hand, looking out the window and said, "Isn't she pretty?" like that bike was a new girlfriend.

the new boss is not the same as the old boss

I know it is hard at age 22 to take anything slow.  But I hope my son finds that slow is the way to go.