On a Pedestal

We have a wonderful cabin on Lake Tenkiller in eastern Oklahoma:

I've been fixing it up for years.  We added on a bedroom, bathroom, laundryroom, and two decks (the one story part to the right and everything with a deck railing) several years ago.  But we rarely get to go there. 

Last weekend we went to there to put new locks on the doors and to put a few fishing lines in the water.  The result was a vow to use the cabin more and to get it finished enough that others can use it as well (if you want to use it, just ask!).  It has two bathrooms, three bedrooms plus a big enclosed sleeping "porch" (the front half of the upstairs where all those windows are) that sleeps 9 kids.  When I get everything to where it's supposed to be, the house will sleep 18!

So I'm all cabin-on-the-brain this week. 

As I drive around town, my eye habitually monitors all lumps on curbs -- I usually spot them from a block or more away.  It's just the way I am to my core. 

Yesterday, I found this:

It turns out that my very nice, new, caddy-corner backdoor neighbors are having to remodel a bathroom to accomodate a disability and this sink didn't fit in with their needs.  

It just so happens that this is the exact $377 (+ tax) Kohler pedestal sink that I've adored for years. 

It also happens that, at the cabin, I have this:

The sad little bathroom with the dinky vanity and the marbelized plastic (yes, PLASTIC!) tiles.

There IS one problem with the new sink:

There is a piece broken off of the base.  I am completely unconcerned about this.  Epoxy will rejoin the two pieces and I could care less if there's a crack visible in the base.  Most of my possessions have a crack or a chip or a ding or some other imperfection (for that matter, I have a few of those myself).  I would much rather have free imperfection than expensive perfection.

I can't wait to upgrade this room with the new sink!

Now, to find (for free on the curb, of course!) the clawfoot tub that I have dreamed of for the other side of the bathroom.  Keep your eyes peeled for me!

And now I'm looking forward to doing a blog series on the cabin.

I Am Such a Ferret!

They say that ferrets like to steal things they like and stash them away.  Often, shiney things.

We've had ferrets.  They didn't do this.  The most mischeivious thing done by our ferrets transpired when Gizmo learned to escape not only from his cage but also from the house entirely -- via the dog door.  He would turn up, blssedly, frolicking in the neighborhood a couple of blocks away.  We were lucky to get him back from these adventures.  It didn't end well though.  He decided one day to come home via the back yard.  Our labradors thought he was a great chew toy.  To make it even more tragic, it was Thanksgiving morning.  Poor Gizzy. 

The biggest "ferret" in the house is Tessa.  I used to find the most amazing assortment of things in her room.  I wish I could remember and recount a long list for your entertainment.  I can only remember that the springy egg beater whisk was one of them items.  Tessa will still admit to me periodically, "I ferretted X.  It's in my room."  She is SO CUTE!

I must confess my ferret tendencies as well.  They derive from my being so very, VERY visual.  I like to look at stuff.  I especially like to look at stuff I am brainstorming on, the final product of a project that I am happy with, or when it something new or just something I LIKE. 

I had to laugh at myself this morning when I realized that I had created a little ferret's nest in that spot on the bedroom wall opposite me bed -- that spot that I look at most because bed is where I sit still the longest.

Mark bought the reproduction radio at a garage sale last Saturday for $1.  I found the vintage Waverly fabric for 50 cents.  Not sure what I'm going to do with it (and it make take me YEARS to figure it out) but I just adore it.  I did splurge and went back and sprang for the vintage blouse I fell in love with. 

These new acquisitions were added almost unconsciously to my collection of favorite things:  pink plates, white wire plate rack, vintage bird cage stand, my grandmother's candleabra, my mother's geranium quilt, one of the dried rose wreaths I used to make, and my favorite cream-framed chalkboard -- all on my vintage shoe salesman's rack. 

I realized later that my subconsious ferret must be working on my book because most of these things have the feel of the 1910's which is the time period a big chunk of my book is set in.  (That totally justifies both my purchases and my display of them, right?) 

These things, along with my vintage chair (right):

and my vintage dresser:

allow me to feel, when I'm in my bedroom, like I'm in my book, on the little twelve acre farm with the two white clapboard houses and the honeysuckle vine lining the back fence and my characters around somewhere.  I am pretty in love with my setting and my characters.  I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing for an author but I know I am enjoying it.

There's a lady around town who dresses like she stepped out of the 1930's and a lady on TV whose every belonging and item of clothing is from the 1950's.  I love to put a vintage spin on my clothes.  My favorite fashion inspiration comes from the seasons of Ghost Whisperer where their very talented costume designer made sure there was a vintage feel to all of (the main character) Melinda's clothes.  If you start to hear about some lady in Fayetteville who dresses like the 1910's, it will probably be me!

But don't worry, I won't ever be willing to give up modern conveniences like TV, central heat and air, washing and dishwashing machines, the internet, Facebook, and writing on an oh-so-changeable-and-forgiving word-processing program -- so a complete conversion is unlikely!