I promised I’d finish this scrapbook, so I’m finally doing so.

Behold, the foyer and Chloe’s room:

I thought I’d include the foyer because I really like the cool faux-stain glass film thing Greg applied to the window alongside our front door:

And the totally awesome milagro sacred heart that my dear friend sent to me from the oldest street in Los Angeles. (It’s actually a mirror in the center but, when reflecting the opposing wall, it looks like it’s red. Cooool!)

And this is the Bear’s room. I’d explain where all the gifts came from but literally everything you’re looking at is a gift of some sort. The crib, the curtains, the shelves, the rocking chair, the changing table, the artwork. Again, literally everything. There is NO WAY we could’ve afforded a baby (let alone such a nice nursery) without the generosity of those around us. We’re unbelievably blessed… stop me if you’ve heard that one.

Another friend made this wall art out of “Ghetto Slang” flash cards she found at some novelty shop. I think they’re hilarious and quirky enough to fit our irreverent style:

My mom cranks out cross-stitchery and quilts like she’s getting paid for it:

And wouldn’t you know it - the pics of the International Gift Shelf and other stuffs are all blurry. ::sigh:: looks like I’m not totally done with this entry, either, but I think I’ve given enough of a general drift of the house.

Oh, and here’s a crappy picture of our back patio by night. See, by night you can’t see how gross the pond in the backyard really is. However, you also can’t see the swarms of mosquitos that limit outdoor meals to spring and fall. And yes, my mom not only bought and repainted the patio set, but she also made really chic/mod matching cushions, placemats, and napkins. We almost look like something out of a catalog. Almost.

Also, please go easy on grading the coloring and brightness; I don’t have Photoshop on my new compy just yet so I had to make do with Photo Editor. Not great, but it works.

Also also, please keep in mind that before we moved in there were only bare, white walls and hideous, brass fixtures everywhere. Ergh. It felt nice to put a lot of work into making it a home that was personalized, even if we don’t own it.

We’ll start with the kitchen. It’s laid out weirdly but it’s easily four times larger than the one at the apartment we had before this, so I’m not complaining. There’s a lot you can’t see from the angle this is taken, but the spaces on the walls are decorated with vintage manifesto pubblictario, (better known as artsy painted Italian alcohol ads from the early 20th century that I adore) which I got for $1 each at Target about 5 years ago. Score! (There will be a lot of mention of bargains in this entry because I do like to brag about a good deal. If you’re a female, you may understand this, assuming you’ve ever lived outside of your parents’ house in your undergrad years.) You may notice the paint job in the breakfast nook that extends all the way into the dining area. This was a two-color job that my husband and my best friend did together using a rag to create a rough, Tuscan-stucco-wall effect. I LOVE IT.

Another shot of the breakfast nook. Please note up front that almost all the furniture in the house is on loan from my sister and mother, Greg’s parents, or was bought for us as gifts. This table and the chairs were part of a set that my sister had in her apartment in Charleston and is no longer using at the moment. Luckily, we had a place to store it for her and it matches the room like a dream. Also, the Mac wasn’t a purchase but a freebie that someone at Greg’s office just didn’t want anymore. I only use it for surfing the Net, but it’s great to have in here so I can keep an eye on the Bear without her getting into everything in the office while I answer emails.

And here is our lovely dining area. Okay, you probably noticed that the chairs don’t match the table and there’s a perfectly good reason for this. We bought this table with matching chairs at a place called The Junk Barn for $120 total. It was exactly what we needed but had this gross Golden-Girls-Miami-retiree-in-the-80’s finish on it (read: light light beige.) so Greg refinished it with this beautiful mahogany coat, which he’s currently doing with the matching chairs. This is something I’m very very proud of. Also, he installed the totally rad bar lighting suspended over the table, installed a dimmer switch to add to the ambience, and hung the floating shelf on the wall behind the table. All without me asking. This is not the only reason I love him, but it certainly helps. On an unrelated note, the spoons and salt shakers you can baaarely make out on the floating shelf were handmade gifts from my sister’s time in South Africa, although I think she got them in Namibia. (I think the shakers might be made of ivory but, knowing my undying allegiance to the pachyderm species, she opted not to disclose this information and I try not to think about it. Too often.)

Into the living room where we took a risk (and freaked out our landlord) by creating a giant accent wall, which we adore. Somehow, it makes the room seem like it’s in a different space entirely, disconnected from the dining room, even though they’re all in the same 40 ft. The couch was a gift from his parents, the entertainment center and ottoman are all from Target wedding gift cards and the little toy chest/bench was Greg’s when he was little. The art sitting on the DVD/CD shelves was done for me by my best friend many years ago when I was going through the darkest part of addiction, depression, and the beginning of recovery. I hope to have it framed one day but I’m saving up so I can get a bang-up job of it as it’ll best be served in a shadowbox. The giant poster on the white wall next to the couch is a real calendar of events for the Plaza del Toros in Valencia, Spain that Greg got after watching a bullfight while studying abroad. We splurged to have it framed but I thought it was well worth it being that we plan to keep it foreverandever. The floor lamp was one that I got from Wal-Mart my freshman year at college for $10 and looked like crap until Greg spray painted it with a textured finish that makes it look at least 5 times the price. Whee!

THIS IS MY NEW DESK!! (Again, please note that this, too, was a freebie inherited from Greg’s workplace.) Amazing, I’ve only had it a week and it’s already loaded with assorted paper-based crap that somehow spills out onto the kitchen table most of the time. Oh, and naturally, this is the rest of the office where we’ve crammed in a treadmill, a keyboard (I’m teaching Greg to play as an ongoing Christmas present,) an oversized beanbag chair, a bookshelf full of car models, racing trophies, software texbooks and ‘Alien’ action figures, a small chest of drawers, and a little workspace for Greg. (Being a graphic artist apparently doesn’t require so much bulk or need for storage in the workplace.) This is not to mention the cameras, cords, artwork, and other misc crap piled into the closet. Junk; we has it. Also, if you can see them, the pics on the wall are my favorites from my time in Australia. They’re perfect.

Guest bathroom. All the towels and the shower curtain are products of my mom’s end-of-the-semester dorm Dumpster diving, as are most of the towels in my house (Cleaned and used for utilitarian purposes only! We have nice linens for guests and ourselves! Just not for the cat or the car…)

And thiiiis is my little slice of heaven: The Master Bedroom (with live, sleeping Greg!) We just went for the color and have not regretted it for a second. I love the bay windows, I love the French doors going into the bathroom, I love the walk-in closet, I love the massive bathtub, I love the dual sinks, I love the little potty nook, I love the extra linen closet in the bathroom, I love everyeveryeverything about this room.

Little Altar

We went with a weird Pacifica theme that incorporates stuff from our Hawaiian wedding vacation (not really a honeymoon, except for the last three days, I guess) and some Asian touches that we just had lying around. The headboard was a $20 one my mom got from a Habitat for Humanity resale store and had refinished as a birthday present for me and the square lamp next to the hanging shelf was a product of her Dumpster diving as well (I think it’s RAD.) The suitcase is one we purchased on our honeymoon at this tiny old plantation house in Kauai that was renovated into the coolest antiques shop I’ve ever been in. It’s from the mid-1900’s and is covered with authentic, old college and travel stickers, some from transportation companies that haven’t existed in decades. The lei draped across it was handmade and given to Greg by our landlord/host when we first arrived at the bungalow in Kapa’a. Also, I spent a lot of time on the island trying to find an authentic original hula girl figurine that wasn’t $75+. On her last day there, the host’s visiting friend left one in our little apartment as a farewell/wedding gift.

I’m unable to get pics of the Bear’s room at the moment but I promise that’s up next as I love it, as well.

WHEW! If you’ve gotten this far, thank you so much for letting me be self-indulgent and a bit obnoxious in my boasting. I’ve never had a house before and I don’t get to show it off that much to other people, so it’s nice to get to play tour guide, if only through electronic devices. I love that Greg and I were able to collaborate on ideas and come up with decorations and design that we both love and are proud of. Even moreso, I’m so grateful and glowingly happy to have a home filled with love and (albeit superficial) tangible gifts to remind us that we are loved and remembered. I know it’s just a little neo-ranch house and it’s not anything unique or upscale or even bordering on the gauche style of the nouveau riche, but to me it’s an absolute palace that I wouldn’t mind occupying for many many years. In fact, I hope the next home we live in can compare to this one or I may spend a lot of time missing it. Anyway, I’m enjoying the freedom of one’s own space and the chance to express ourselves within it.

My husband has a tiny sliver of bellyfat that he’s sprouted in the last few months which I happen to adore. He happens to loathe this particular addition to his new, married, parental life, but I think it’s wonderful. This weirds him out.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m no Chubby Chaser. I’ve dated a handful of chubby guys and found that, while they’re initially fun to be around [as they've had to focus on making their personality shine, naturally], they tend to be too desperate and/or self-loathing in the long run. I’ve likened my few relationships with chubby guys with various trips to an overnight spa: at first it’s really nice to be fawned over and pampered and treated like a deity, but after about a week you just want a normal conversation, some time to breathe, and some regular damned food for once.

(Yes, I know, there are a number of chubby guys who genuinely love themselves and don’t give a crap that they’re overweight and are capable of a healthy, loving relationship with a man or woman. I know a few and am dear friends with a couple but never made the wise decision of actually gravitating to one of them romantically… anyway.)

But Greg’s belly isn’t an all-over pudge that has encapsulated his whole body, nor is it a beergut-esque pooch that resembles a woman in her second trimester. There’s no extra flab hanging off the bottom of his jaw and no extra jiggles under his arms or around his thighs. Greg’s little pudge is a barely-noticeable layer of extra torso that pushes gently on the front of his shirts and makes his pants only slightly harder to button and is so adorable I’ve found myself singing little songs about it.

Greg’s never been mistaken for a big guy, but can hardly be accused of being “scrawny”. His small frame carries strong, sculpted muscles under a perfect layer of soft skin that creates gentle contours and his legs are indicative of his high school cross-country career, still carrying the lean muscles of a runner that support perhaps the most perfectly crafted um… hindquarters I’ve ever seen on a man. (I’m trying desperately not to embarrass him publicly here.) Although he is a bit self-conscious of being shorter and leaner than the average American man, his 5′8″ body perfectly contains mine as we curl up together and I’ve had no problem gushing over how much I love his overall physique. :::siiigh:::

This nouveau bellyfat wasn’t acquired through laziness or beer-guzzling evenings watching television. It mysteriously appeared shortly after we got married and has been one of the happiest wedding gifts I’ve received yet (even better than RockBand2!) It’s not really even noticeable to the common observer, but to me it’s that little sign that Greg’s settled and no longer worried about impressing me or any woman who may come around. Not that he’s letting himself fall into disrepair, mind you, but he’s subconsciously aware that he’s comfortable and healthy and taken-care-of. And loved. Unconditionally. Forever.

Of all the various daily reminders that I’ve somehow ended up a settled, married, domesticated housewife, Greg’s little soft belly is by far my favorite.

This, however, has made me want even more to be a little bit MILF-y for him to come home to. Oh, the irony.