The Eye, The Dome & The Teapot

Wednesday morning, Chad and I caught a bus to the London Eye. From a distance, the London Eye looks like a trumped-up ferris wheel. It's giant at 443 feet tall. The pods are enclosed viewing stations that can hold 20 people with a large oval bench in the center. The Eye moves so slowly that you don't feel it, taking 30 minutes for a full rotation. I got a bit of vertigo when our pod reached the very top of the rotation, and was glad for the bench. The view was amazing. Interactive screens located around the pod let you tap on a building's image for the name and a brief history. The London Eye may be a silly tourist activity, but I enjoyed it.

We walked a few blocks and caught a bus to St. Paul's Cathedral. The Cathedral was hosting an art exhibit of life-size donkey statues on parade, each donkey painted by a different artist. Some of the donkeys were elaborate and beautiful, some more political in their adornment. As for the Cathedral, I was struck by the intricate mosaics and all the glittering gold tones along the ceilings. The outer loop of a small remembrance chapel behind the choir was dedicated to the American allies of World War II. Standing and reading the words of gratitude on the plaque made my eyes a bit misty. St. Paul's Cathedral is impressively huge with many areas open to explore. A narrow, winding stairway leads up to the base of the dome, known as the whispering gallery. The vantage point from there satisfied my need for views from on high. Still feeling a bit of vertigo from the London Eye, I didn't want to climb higher into the dome.

Just across the street from St. Paul's Cathedral, we reserved a spot for afternoon tea at Bea's of Bloomsbury. Bea's felt a bit narrow and claustrophobic, especially after climbing a tight spiral staircase to our table. Chad's Earl Grey tea was divine, but I chose poorly with my smokey-tasting Lapsong tea. The tower of snacks for afternoon tea had caprese sandwiches, two scones with clotted cream and jam, two cupcakes, two little meringue cookies, four brownie bites and two blondie bites. The treats were all too buttery and a bit bland in flavor. We were offered a to-go box for leftovers, but declined. We chose Bea's of Bloomsbury, because the website claimed the atmosphere to be unstuffy and casual, and because there was a reservation available on the day we wanted. Bea's lacked the grandiose ambiance, beautiful silver and fine china service that is part of a stuffy four-star hotel, and maybe that's part of what proper English afternoon tea should embody. I still prefer the tea service at The Steeping Room in our neighborhood at home.

Feeling the need to burn some calories, we crossed the pedestrian bridge over the River Thames for the walk back to our apartment. After such an indulgent afternoon tea, we had a late, light dinner of ready-packed salads from Sainsbury's. Being able to walk easily to so many interesting and useful places certainly was an endorsement for metropolitan life. Maybe if we win the lottery...

Tomorrow, read about our last full day in London - my favorite day there.

Day in Cambridge

We took the tube to King's Cross Train Station to catch the express train to Cambridge from London. The train ride took just under an hour, and was not very scenic, unless you think cows are scenic. When our train passed another train, the air pressure made my ears pop, and made a loud "whoosh" noise. Upon arrival in Cambridge, we were greeted by literally hundreds of bicycles locked to bike racks just outside the station. We were also greeted by rain. At this point in my trip to England, the novelty of the rain wore thin. Chad and I walked the quaint roads for about fifteen minutes to the visitor's center. A video about Cambridge ran on a loop in a strange little theater made to look like a courtroom complete with bewigged mannequins in barrister robes. Why the tourist video ran in a mock courtroom, I have no idea.

Down the hall, we entered a fluorescent lit room with a few employees seated at desks behind glass partitions. This room was reminiscent of the Department of Motor Vehicles in most American cities. We bought tickets for a punting tour later that day. We exited through the only available door which deposited visitors into a jam-packed gift shop - clever, Cambridge Tourism Council!

On our way to the punting tour pickup, we passed an intriguing cricket clock sculpture in a large window. A quick google revealed this to be the Corpus Clock or Chronophage (time-eater) as the creator calls it. Watching the beautiful clock tick off seconds and minutes mesmerized me, but we needed to keep moving.

On the Cambridge tourism website, I read that having a Chelsea Bun is a requisite part of any visit. We ducked into Fitzbillie's and ordered a Chelsea Bun full of honey (rather than the traditional sugar glaze) and currants along with hot tea served English style with a splash of milk to take with us to the punting tour dock. A bee hovered around our Chelsea Bun as if to demand his stolen honey be returned. Sorry, bee, but the bun was too yummy.

At the appointed time, we climbed into the Scudamore's punting tour boat, covered up with a blanket and popped open our umbrellas. (Still raining.) A punting tour involves a flat-bottom-boat navigated by the tour guide down the River Cam with a long pole pushed along the river bed. If you've been to Venice, it's sort of like the gondoliers, but the boat is more shallow. We saw lovely 16th and 17th century architecture on most of the college buildings of Cambridge. We heard about the history of the area. We saw Cambridge's Bridge of Sighs, which is much less grand than Venice's Bridge of Sighs, but pretty. We also heard about Cambridge college student shenanigans through the ages. If you go to Cambridge, you must take a punting tour to see some of the best views and hear the best gossip.

After the punting tour, we had a date with one of Chad's English coworkers at the Eagle pub. Chad's coworker initially asked that we meet him at the low wall outside of King's College next to the conker tree, but then texted that if it was raining we should meet at the Eagle pub. Um, what is a conker tree? How rainy is raining? Chad texted back that we'd meet at the Eagle rain or shine. The Eagle pub was a welcome escape from the chilly, drippy weather. It felt like a quintessential English pub with pretty woodwork and a little authentic sticky grime about it. We ordered food without waiting for Chad's friend, because we were hungry. Chad had a generous serving of mushroom ravioli. I had a black bean and jalapeno veggie burger. This was one of the better meals I enjoyed on our England trip. I'm sorry to say that English food is neither bold in flavor or imagination, and seems to center around salted beef, mashed peas, fried fish and chips (like soggy, unseasoned french fries in American terms). Chad's friend arrived quite late -- good thing we decided to meet inside the Eagle and not at the infamous conker tree where that albino squirrel once lived near the low wall outside King's College.

Chad's friend gave us a brief walking tour with the bit of daylight that remained. Central Cambridge's cobblestone streets are lined with sweets shops, tea rooms, pubs, and a few quaint clothing stores. The whole effect coupled with drippy rain charms one into a sleepy, cozy state. We ended our tour at Jesus Green - a giant green space park running along the river shore.

We took a cab to Cambridge Train Station for the train to King's Cross Train Station, then across the street to the tube to London Bridge tube station, and another fifteen minute walk back to our south London apartment. Navigating without a car is possible, but not terribly convenient, and gets pricey. Chad especially missed driving his fun two-seat car. I'm on the fence about a car-less lifestyle. I think I could do it in London, New York or Seattle, but not in Austin.

Tomorrow I'll fill you in on more London tourist activities and gawking.

The Really Rainy Day

Chad and I agreed that Monday called for much less walking than Sunday, and that we didn't want to go anywhere with Circus in the name, like Piccadilly Circus or Oxford Circus, again.

Monday was rainy. Not just drippy or drizzly, but raining cats and dogs rainy. We walked fifteen minutes to the London Bridge tube station, surfacing at the Houses of Parliament which is just across the street from Westminster Abbey. Chad and I were each armed with our own umbrellas, but still got wet. People without umbrellas looked like drowned rats, bless their hearts.

Westminster Abbey is huge and awe-inspiring. We easily spent two hours admiring the Gothic architecture and reading the memorial plaques. It's on the those you must see it for yourself places. Everything is varying shades of grey stone with a few wood railings and doors, except for the stained glass windows which are brilliant jewel tones. I especially enjoyed the Poet's Corner section where some English authors are buried and where many English authors have memorial plaques. It's amazing that the structure survived the bombings of World War II. Many of the windows had to be replaced. There are pockmarks in the exterior walls bearing witness to such a frightening time in history.

We caught the tube back to London Bridge station which spit us out very near Burough Market. On Mondays, only a few stalls are open. We ate spicy falafel pitas for lunch on a bench out of the rain. Then we bought some cheese, nuts and baked goods for later. The rain let up enough for us to walk back to the apartment. We rested and watched some English telly, while planning our day trip to Cambridge for Tuesday.

Dinner Monday night was at Pizza Express - a chain place that was okay, but nothing special. What was special was walking along the Thames after dinner and gawking at the beautiful Tower Bridge. Chad joked that each tower looks like Cinderella's castle from Disneyworld, and it does look like something from a very stylish fairy tale. The huge metal rails of the bridge are painted peacock blue, the Queen's favorite color, which happens to be my favorite color too.

Tomorrow read all about idyllic Cambridge.

The Bad Traveler Day

I'm maybe too pragmatic for my own good, constantly weighing pros and cons to decide if I like a place or an experience. Consequently, I sometimes hit a point in a vacation where I think, "I made a bad decision in spending so much money and my precious vacation time to come here." But sometimes (okay only once in Hood River, Oregon) I think, "I like this place so much, I want to move here. Now."

Sunday, my second full day in London, mostly inspired thoughts of the "this was a mistake" variety. Chad and I took a bus past some post-Armageddon-looking, graffiti-scrawled, derelict housing projects on our way into central London. Upon exiting the bus, we found ourselves in flappy-foot-walker tourist purgatory. I witnessed a German tourist pull down his toddler-aged daughter's pants, carry her to a grassy patch and instruct her to pee on the ground like a dog. This happened as hordes of people walked at different speeds and/or stopped for no reason on uneven cobblestone streets en route to touristy destinations of varying degrees of good taste and civility. Our destination, Covent Garden, proved to be mobbed by street performers with gathering crowds and people who seemed simultaneously in a big hurry and lost. I wish we had skipped Covent Garden. Covent Garden is nothing special. It's not even a garden. It's some local vendor stalls mixed with chain stores and lots of street performers. Gross.

From (stupid) Covent Gardens, we walked to Selfridges & Co. department store. The walk was too long and among too many fellow-tourists, past too many cruddy chain stores that repeated too many times. Does London really need three H&M stores in a two-mile radius? The walk took so much longer than we thought it would that we had to stop to consult maps three times to make sure we were still on track. Selfridges & Co. was pretty fabulous when we finally arrived. The sheer size of the store is amazing with a real sense of history in the architecture.The staff dress strictly in black and white, and all look so fashionable. There seemed to be a staff person for every two customers even on a busy weekend day. Every rack, aisle and display were immaculately neat and lovely. My only complaint (other than the meandering, irritating journey to the place): not enough seating in the food hall. Chad and I thought we'd have lunch there, but found ourselves overwhelmed by food choices and underwhelmed by lack of seats. We ended up sharing a few mini cupcakes in the only shop-in-a-shop nook where we could find a seat. Hunger for "real food" (i.e. not cupcakes) got the better of us, and forced an exit sooner than I would have liked.

Back on the wiley streets of Oxford Circus, Chad and I ducked down some quieter side roads hoping to escape the crowded sidewalks. We wandered past a Rolls Royce showroom and a Mastretta showroom. We saw lovely apartments and hotels with Georgian architecture. We resisted the urge to press our noses against the windows of these drool-worthy showrooms and abodes.

Upon recommendation of one of Chad's English coworkers, we searched out a pub called The Cross Keys for lunch. We were told the place was a quiet, non-touristy, very old and traditional English pub. We walked through cold, drippy rain and more tourist trap mess and more crowds for too long before finding the The Cross Keys pub. Guess what? It's tiny and doesn't serve food past 3:00 PM. It was just past 3:00 PM. Chad and I each had a room temperature, sudsy English ale (not so good) so as not to be super-conspicuous tourist-types. Then back out into the unwashed masses in search of some semi-authentic, semi-nutritious, vegetarian food. More walking and crowd-surfing. Much menu-looking. Much "I don't see a single open seat in there" disappointment. Much consulting yelp on Chad's phone.

We ended up at Nag's Head. As evidenced by the ketchup bottles on every table, we landed at a tourist trap, but were both so hungry we didn't care. The vegetarian "phish and chips" was some kind of dry white fried cheese. It was okay. What was not okay was the swelling crowd around us, and the American couple who asked if they could share our tiny table, because they couldn't order food at the bar until they could point to their table. I don't go on vacation in a foreign country to talk to other American tourists. Sorry. After forced niceties of the how-is-your-trip & what-have-you-seen variety, we hustled out of the crowded tourist pub to the crowded tourist streets. We couldn't find our bus stop to get back to the apartment. I whined that we could just take a cab as we passed a cab stand area, but Chad pretended he didn't see the cab stand. I got pouty and quiet because my feet hurt, and because I was tired. Then we walked for forty-five minutes back to the apartment. The only saving grace of that long walk was some cool public installation art under bridges.

We rested, showered and went to bed early.

Now is when I reassure you that "it gets better." The trip did get better. Tune in tomorrow to read all about it.

Art, Food & Lights at Night

My first full day in London started with coffee and pastries delivered by a handsome room service guy. Wait... the serviced apartment doesn't offer room service... but it did for me in the form of Chad sneaking down the block to the neighborhood coffee shop, Bermondsey Street Coffee,  to bring breakfast back to the apartment. So nice!

After fueling up, Chad and I caught a bus to Tate Modern to look at modern art in a converted power plant. Here's a weird revelation about my taste in art: the older the "modern art" is, the more I tend to like it. Matisse? Monet? Mondrian? Ellsworth Kelly? Calder? Yes, please! But that guy who had his wedding for free in some gallery and is now presenting the photos of that free wedding as an art exhibit in a big, fancy museum? Um, no, not so much.

After we had our fill of modern art, we walked from the Tate Modern to Burough Market, a meandering food market with delicious offerings of fresh local produce, eleventy-hundred kinds of cheese, roasted nuts of all sorts, foods from many nations, Pimm's cups, ciders, baked goods and more. It was pretty amazing. We joined the slow-moving crowds to gawk at goodies.  We enjoyed yummy snacks at the market, and took a little picnic of items for later. We walked about ten minutes back to the apartment to rest a bit.

A public service announcement from me to you: do not attempt to drive in London. There is no parking anywhere. Drivers pay congestion fees to drive in the city during the day. The British drive on the opposite side of the road than Americans. Gas is super-expensive in England. The driver seat is on the opposite side of the car. Buy an Oyster card and pay only about half the cost of single tickets for the bus and the London Underground, or "tube" in local-speak.

As the sun started to set, we set out for the London Bridge Underground Station (another ten minute walk from our apartment) to catch a train to Green Park, where we hopped on the London by Night tour bus. We sat on the breezy-chilly open top of the double-decker bus for a better view of sites such as Trafalgar Square, Picadilly Circus, Tower Bridge, Tower of London, Harrod's Department Store and its 1000 string lights, the London Eye and bunches of other stuff that I don't remember. The tour gave a lovely overview of London landmarks.

Tune in tomorrow for more wandering around London, and read about my near-meltdown over hunger mixed with huge crowds of people and too much walking.

Jolly Good London

I've always thought of myself as quite a Britophile, someone smitten with all things Britian. I love (most) British literature, the idea of cool rainy days, lush landscapes, history stretching back more than the American timeline, amazing architecture, BBC mysteries, BBC costume dramas, BBC's Top Gear...

After many years of loving British culture from afar, Chad and I finally got to go to London. Chad went to London ahead of me for a week of work. That week was hot and sunny, reaching 85 degrees Fahrenheit most days. Chad told me not to bring a jacket or coat. Luckily, I checked the weather forecast, and packed somewhat appropriately for our week of vacation together in London. That week was suddenly fall with drippy, sometimes driving, rains and temperatures that hovered around 57 degrees Fahrenheit each day.

At first, I loved the cool, damp weather, but soon tired of always feeling damp and chilled. I gave up  fighting the frizz that was my hair after trying some of Chad's hair shellac, and finding that not even that paste could calm my wiry mess. I know this sounds shallow, but it's hard to enjoy yourself when every time you catch sight of your reflection you think, "Ick. What is happening with my hair?"

Upon my sleep-deprived, jet-lagged arrival to Heathrow airport, I caught the Heathrow Express, a very fast train, to Paddington Station where I caught a cab to our hotel. Planes, trains and automobiles? Yes. Paddington Station was charming in a well-maintained historical-looking way. My cab driver was everything I could have hoped for: a nice, chatty man who pointed out every neighborhood, landmark, building and bridge of interest. He seemed really pleasantly surprised when I tipped him 15%, saying, "Ya shore?" (Translation: Are you sure?) Frommer's London guidebook advised tipping cab drivers 10 - 15%, and I would have tipped 20% in America for a much less enjoyable & informative trip.

Heathrow Airport

Paddington Station

London Cab

Finally at the London hotel 18 hours after leaving home in Austin, I was so happy to claim a room key, looking forward to a shower and a quick nap. Chad was still at work, but kindly left a welcome note and little bouquet of pink roses in the hotel room for me. We stayed at a "serviced apartment" in south London in a cute neighborhood with little parks, a Sainsbury's Local mini-grocery store, coffee shop and pubs just down the street. Our serviced apartment was super-affordable (seriously!) compared to London hotels. It had a kitchenette, separate living area and a huge window that opened for fresh air. And we needed that window, because the room had a smell like rancid kimchee, or maybe ancient evil. The bathroom was clean, modern and cute, but this rotten smell that seemed to emanate from the drains and toilet permeated the whole apartment. The apartment also had motion-sensor activated lights. Every time you walked into an area, a stunning (not in a good way, in a literally stunning way) array of halogen bulbs lit up. Chad said it took him days to figure out how to operate the lights. You had to click the switch twice in rapid succession to turn each light off, or hold the switch down to dim each light. The lights in the bathroom would turn off mid-shower because the motion sensor was over the sink, not over the shower. All the cabinets and drawers lacked handles or knobs, and had to be "bounced" open at the corner. If you pressed too long, the cabinet or drawer stayed closed. But if you jabbed very quickly, the cabinet or drawer would pop open. It required much finessing and led to much frustration. The bed was a glorified futon: a thin mattress on slats very near to the floor. The bedding was a flat sheet tucked around the mattress and a duvet. Um. Yeah. I'm accustomed to a fitted sheet, a flat sheet and then a duvet. The pillows were overly firm, like a sack of concrete powder. Two pillows were too high, one pillow was too low -- there was no "just right" about the bedding or pillows. In summary of the apartment, not user-friendly, but SO CHEAP compared to central London hotels.

The view (?) from our apartment.

I was fairly exhausted by the time Chad arrived at our temporary digs after work. We walked down the street to a crowded pub, The Woolpack, and had a drink in "the garden" which is local-speak for back patio. We walked up the street to a Mediterranean restaurant, Del Aziz, for a delicious dinner of Greek vegetarian food. By this time, it was approaching proper London bedtime. Chad slept like a baby for nearly twelve hours, but I awoke at local time 3:00 AM for a snack and two hours of reading before I could go back to sleep. It sounds like a humblebrag* to fuss about jet-lag, but it is a seriously sleep-depriving situation.

Tune in for more exciting London travelogue tomorrow.

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*humblebrag as defined by urban dictionary: Subtly letting others know about how fantastic your life is while undercutting it with a bit of self-effacing humor or "woe is me" gloss.

Example: Ugh, just ate about fifteen pieces of chocolate. gotta learn to control myself when flying first class or they'll cancel my modeling contract. LOL #humblebrag

Current Stuff

I love Alex Clare's entire album, especially Hummingbird. Mr. Clare recently tweeted that a second album is in the works. I can't wait!

My retail job carries these Rewined candles made with soy wax poured into recycled wine bottles. I love most of the scents, especially the Spiked Cider and the Mimosa.

I'm reading this book now. Once a year or so, I read a non-fiction, business-y book. I think my inner-overachiever makes me read these business-y books. This book is quite repetitive, possibly aimed at a lowest common denominator  of attention span. Like many business-y books, there are some broad generalizations, some glossing-over of facts, many footnotes, an appendix and motivational mumbo-jumbo. I don't know what my inner-overachiever hopes I'll gain from reading this, other than to realize how backwards most businesses are in their approach to goals. If nothing else, the anecdotes are interesting.

More Than This

About ten years ago, soon after I resigned my last retail management job, a friend asked if I would ever work in retail again. I replied that I would not, because people tended to grossly underestimate my intelligence and potential when I told them I worked retail,  or when they were standing on the other side of the counter or the other side of the dressing room door. I was so weary of being treated as if I was less than: deserving of common courtesy, a college graduate, a kindhearted person with strong ideals, a conscientious worker trying to do my best.

Never say never. Want to make God laugh? Make plans and proclamations.

I find myself in a retail way again. For the most part, I am surrounded by coworkers who have college degrees or who are working on college degrees. For the most part, we all get along and treat each other with courtesy. For the most part, we pull together as team players despite how we each might feel about our jobs on a given day. However, there are a few proverbial bad apples in every bunch.

One such Bad Apple often fails to take direction and/or performs his job with a marked air of superior attitude. He is currently a college student, and loves to say often to coworkers that his job provides motivation to stay in school and finish his degree. I made sure that this Bad Apple was in earshot several days ago as coworkers and I joked that none of us are exactly using our chosen college degrees in our current positions. Bad Apple was quick to stammer that he better use his degree after four years of college.

Good luck with that. I hope that the job market proves rosy and sunny when he's done with his degree. I hope that the clouds of The Great Recession have lifted. I hope that we all more closely approach our respective potential fulfillment.

Most people possess much more in the way of talents, interests and knowledge than a single job can express. I believe that's why many of my coworkers have second jobs, hobbies and active lives outside of work.

Another Window Display

I try to photograph the displays I make as soon as they are complete, because customers shop the items directly off of the displays pretty quickly. A lady squeezed into the window with me to grab enameled mugs, even though there were fifty such mugs on a table nearby. Seriously.

Here's the latest window display I made. Apologies for the reflection again. I need to drive back by the store after sundown to photograph my windows, but that would involve driving back after 9:00 PM. Not gonna happen.

Click each photo to make it bigger. 

I grouped cookbooks with the relevant tools to make those recipes, then had the far right section devoted to cleaning tools. My amazingly handy boss-lady built the shelves from scratch from a pile of lumber. Seriously.

I Made These

I made these pretty earrings at the blogger conference with the help of Sierra from Manic Trout. Sierra generously provided the supplies and know-how for a quick class. In my not at all humble and totally prejudiced opinion, my earrings were one of the coolest creations from the class.

Why do I Blog?

I attended a female-powered blogger and business owner conference this weekend. The demographic and emphasis skewed towards female fashion bloggers with sponsors, ads and lots of photos of themselves in trendy clothes on their blogs. Clearly, I am not this type of blogger. I sought out the workshops that were less about getting free clothes and having eleventy-hundred followers; but more about consumerism with a conscience, parlaying blogging experience into freelance work, making your own earrings and seeking out the best venue for publishing.

I met several ladies with beautiful, unique style and sweet, radiant spirits such as Tolly, Sierra, Jenni, Chrystine Noel, Janette & Merl. I also met some high-school-style mean girls with overly trendy outfits copied straight from the retailer who oozed gimme, gimme, gimme attitudes and ruthless narcissism. 

One gimme-girl saw the name of my retail employer on my badge, and her face lit up with the delight of opportunism. With little introduction, she thrust her business card at me and demanded an affiliate program sponsorship. Whoa there, Nelly!* That's not what I do. I just make the local store pretty. Even after I explained that I had no power to help her with her extremely lofty goal, she went on to threaten that if her one-month-old start-up didn't get an affiliate program sponsorship, she would no longer be able to showcase my employer's products. No, I'm not kidding.

I don't blog to get freebies, sponsorships or make money. I blog to keep in touch with family, friends, fans and frenemies. I blog to remember struggles, triumphs and ideas. I blog to exercise my brain and to exorcise some of the mental noise.

After a weekend of strutting in my most dangerous heels and least comfortable, but most stylish outfits, you do not want to see a photo of what I'm slumming around in today. Trust me, it's not pretty.

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*Her name is not Nelly, though she did have a long mane of My Little Pony type hair. Uh-oh! Some of the high-school-style meanness rubbed off on me.

String is the Thing

We needed to prettify a large wall in the bedding section at my retail job. We had some plywood, burlap and lots of twine, rope and string. We're also selling geometric string art at my retail job right now. Thus the inspiration for giant string art. I wrapped burlap around the 44 inch square of plywood after embroidering triangles onto it. My boss-lady added the rope triangles to tie it all together... literally.   See?

More Pre-Dawn Merchandising

For six days in a row I got up hideously early at 3:45 AM to make retail a prettier place. The photos I share on the blog are instances where I had to improvise the merchandising, meaning that I did not have corporate directive or blueprints for the placement of products. I made it up to make it pretty. See?

We ran out of bays and apothecary carts, but still needed to place some pillows and homeless vases. These old spools worked great to get merchandise placed near respective color palettes, and keep that urban, repurposed vibe going. I aligned the spools at a diagonal to mimic the diagonal offset of the layered rugs next to them and the diagonal lines in the tasseled pillows.

These office products had to move out of the stock room and off of the too-small rolling shelf into which they were stuffed. I grouped homeless decorating books the store sells low for shopping. I also carried the use of strictly-for-visuals books into the high shelves. I didn't want these books where guests could reach them and think they were for sale. I carefully selected grey, blue and black spines, then aligned the books by height for an organized look. Books were used in the directive in other bays, but more haphazardly with page sides facing out mixed with spines facing out, with titles running north to south and south to north. In the office section, I made the choice to keep the books super organized for an air of efficiency.

Making it Pretty at the Break of Dawn

I'm a lifelong night owl, but I'll get up ridiculously early to make retail a prettier place. See?

I think guests in the store were a tad timid about shopping the succulents. Go ahead and take some home! Just don't mess up the visual mojo.

 The sea glass bottles and ceramics started selling like gangbusters after I prettified them.

Merchandising Maven

As a vegetarian and indoor activity enthusiast, I don't own a grill. However, I can style grilling tools and cookout paraphernalia as if I were a sun-loving, carnivorous, fire-cook. See?

Chandelier: Done!

I've kept all three of my readers in suspense long enough. Here is the chandelier Chad and I chose: the Mischief Chandelier from Lighting Direct. I love it! It's everything I hoped it would be: eccentric, beautiful & affordable. Even the name is great.

I'm waiting for a sale on curtains at my retail job to address that dated tab-tie-top situation over the window. Reserve judgement for now.

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Update: I painted the ceiling ring glossy black to match the chandelier. It lends more visual balance and makes the whole set-up pop.

Non-Union Rates

I got a casting call email today for a prime-time network TV show filming in Austin. They need female extras to play prostitutes. The project offers non-union pay rates that will be "at least minimum wage" with "overtime pay after eight hours." Extras must be available for twelve hour shifts with most scenes filming outside on these hot summer days.

I hope that real prostitutes don't have to work twelve hour shifts in Texas summer heat, and that they make a whole lot more than minimum wage. (Naturally I wish that no one had to prostitute themselves or others.)

Though my retail job is no gem, I'll stick with it for the time being if this is the quality of acting work that Austin has to offer now.

Real Nice

When I come into my millions, this is how I'll roll:

Range Rover Evoque Pure

Trip Which Light Fantastic

The pendant light over our dining room table gave up the ghost, dropping one of three pendants, and stripping the wiring in the process. The light fixture had a good six year run sporting three different pendant styles. If I'm honest, I never loved the old light fixture. Cue the perfect excuse for a new chandelier.

Light A is a knockoff of a chandelier I found on a much more exclusive/expensive shopping site for about 1/3 the price. Chad and I find it charming and funky. As you know, we love Halloween and this chandelier screams haunted house chic meets old world charm.

Light B is more mainstream, more traditional meets modern. As for the price, that 40% employee discount across a number of brands from my retail job makes the pricing the icing on the tasteful vanilla cake. 

Our dining table has a weathered ebony finish with red leather-ish simple, high-backed side chairs. Chad and I both think either chandelier will match just fine. 

By the time you weigh in, we'll probably already have the new light installed. A bee in the bonnet of two over-doers buzzes insistently. Leave a comment, so we can at least see if you guessed correctly which we chose.

Put a snail on it!

At my retail job, we borrow a catchphrase from the show Portlandia, and often say, "put a bird on it!" Birds were all the hotness a few years ago in everything from fashion fabrics to decorative accents to wallpaper. Sadly, their are still too many birds gracing pillows, bedding, bowls, dishes, mugs and cake-domes at my retail workplace. It's over, guys. Move on.

A few months ago, I predicted to Chad that snails are the new hotness in design. We have one ceramic snail on our bedroom dresser and one small ceramic snail in a terrarium in the dressing room. I found sparkly snail ornaments last Christmas. Indeed, I've seen snails popping up on fabrics and wallpapers too. Not so much gracing food serving pieces, unless you count escargot served on dishes. Eww.

I've been struggling with working 37 hours a week on average, but with no employee benefits other than my meager hourly wage. My retail workplace got fussed at by corporate last week for scheduling too many of us more than 29.5 hours a week consistently without giving benefits. Last week, I only worked (surprise!) 29.5 hours over five workdays. It was pretty nice. I almost caught up on housekeeping and actually cared for the pets properly. Next week I work (surprise!) 37 hours again.

A coworker unwittingly informed me last night that the full-time visual merchandising position for which I thought I might apply is already promised to someone else. The past month that I've been working with the visual merchandising team I was (unknown to me) merely serving as a placeholder until the other person can start. SURPRISE! & EWW.

That other person can have the full-time visual merchandising position. I've had a taste of that job. Very little of the work is actually creative. Mostly the job involves cleaning the store, making sure proper signage is in place for constantly changing sales, doing markdowns, toting 30 pound shelves up & down 12 foot ladders and dribbling water into dying plants.

I'm going to put a snail on my retail job, figuratively speaking, and slow down. I'm going to limit my available hours so that I'll truly be working part-time, hopefully 25 hours over four workdays per week. Maybe if I don't give so much of my time to a job I don't even really like, it won't feel so taxing. Maybe I'll have time and mental energy to find a job I like better. Maybe I'll just have more time to myself.

Three Days Off Both Paid Jobs!

I had three days off in a row from my retail job and my acting job this Memorial Day weekend. It was awesome. A girl could get used to that whole sleeping late, not studying scripts and not going to work routine. I read a magazine and started a book. Crazy party girl, that's me!

Of course, I used a good portion of that time to get caught up on my housewife and pet-guardian chores, but I consistently like being a housewife and pet-guardian.

I did not paint my nails, which only happens a few times a year in response to insomnia or extreme boredom. I also did not paint any walls in the house. Maybe these luxurious projects can happen next time I have three days off in a row from both of my paid jobs. Place your bets now as to when that might happen!

Chad Eats Stomach Bugs for Breakfast

I had a nasty stomach bug this week. According to my friend from work, Nurse* Sabrina, if it's coming out both ends, it's food-poisoning. If it's only coming out one end, it's a stomach bug. I had to text my make-it-pretty boss-lady at 5:45 A.M. Wednesday that I'd be out sick. I was seriously sad to miss a make-it-pretty shift, but would have gladly missed a sales shift.

Wednesday I had six rounds of stomach bug symptoms and four naps. It was pretty miserable, but a darn fine excuse to eat nothing but mashed potatoes for dinner. I felt a bit achy and weak the next day at work as I hauled thirty pound shelves up a twelve foot ladder.

Chad did not get sick. He has a stomach of iron. According to Chad, he, "eats stomach bugs for breakfast," with no ill effects. Lucky.

*Nurse Sabrina is not actually a nurse. I assign the nickname Nurse to anyone from whom I glean medical information. It makes everything a tad more legit in my mind.

Let's Talk About My Ennui

en·nui

 [ahn-wee, ahn-wee; French ahn-nwee]

noun

a feeling of utter weariness and discontent resulting from satiety or lack of interest; boredom: The endless lecture produced an unbearable ennui.

Origin: 
1660–70;  < French:  boredom; Old French enui  displeasure

I now work thirty seven hours a week on average at that retail place. Pretty sneaky how they don't give me a full forty hours, so they don't have to give me any benefits. Employees are dropping like flies at that retail place. There was a mass exodus of five different managers over the past six months. Only the poor, pitiful, beat-down store manager remains with a few new managers who are still struggling to find their footing. About six weeks ago, I gave my two week notice that I wanted the heck out of Crazytown. (Crazytown referring to that retail place.) After some wailing, gnashing of teeth and negotiating, I was persuaded to stay in Crazytown with the understanding that I would work visual merchandising (a.k.a. the make it pretty team), and help with sales "once in a while". I currently spend about two-thirds of my work week doing sales (Heaven help me, how I loathe working sales) and about one-third of my work week making it pretty. This is not cool, and not what I bargained for. 

I'm so tired from my physically and emotionally intensive workplace, that I have little energy for housekeeping, grocery shopping, pet care and general fun-having. 

My sweet husband, Chad runs his own successful business. It takes many, many hours of work each week. I feel terrible asking Mr. Workerbee (a.k.a. Chad) to do chores or pet care beyond walking our sweet, pesky dog. He also has very little free time, and very little energy to spare.

I don't like my car, but count my many blessings that I have a car to drive, and am not stuck relying on public transportation (not one of Austin's strong points) or biking (bike lanes also not one of Austin's strong points).

Austin has too much traffic and too many people. Sometimes I feel a tendency to become a very happy shut-in, until I remember that I don't really like to cook. I need to get out to restaurants and salad bars, because we can not live on Luna bars alone.

I love my four pets, and am so happy they are healthy and still with me. However, there are too many pets and not enough of me to give them all the attention and care that they deserve. Of course, I'm keeping them! Friends for life, and all that!

I tried to arrange a monthly outing for the friends I wish I saw more. The first outing drew five people out of twelve invited. The second outing drew three people out of eleven invited. The third outing drew me and only me. I felt like a jerk trying to reserve a table for five at a not-very-busy restaurant, sending texts of the where-are-you variety and leaving in defeat after it was clear that no one else could attend, and that the server wanted me out of there. So I stopped arranging the monthly outing. I got one email wanting to know if I would revive the monthly outing, to which I replied, "Nope, but you go ahead and try. Good luck."

In short, I am running with the rats in this crazy race. I am tired. I should be enjoying my many blessings, but I don't have enough time or energy. I think many of my friends are in the same boat. I'm crunching numbers and brainstorming on how to make day to day life better. Send me happy thoughts.

Wishing you peace, prosperity and enough time to enjoy your life.

Flower Power Pow-wow

Saturday I led a workshop on flower arranging along with other members of the make-it-pretty-team at my retail job. We referenced The Flower Recipe Book, and used peonies, carnations (a lovely & much under-appreciated flower), Bells of Ireland along with pink and green berry sprays. The berry sprays for the store's bouquet got swiped by class participants, but I promise they were pretty.

Workshop participants went home with their own floral arrangements, a cute Weck jar, pruners and a copy of The Flower Recipe Book. I must say that each arrangement was prettier than the next!

Fancy Hoses

I made a window display for the gardening supplies and plants sold at my retail job. You need fancy hoses? We got 'em.

Click on the photos to make them bigger. Apologies for the reflections of the window.

Making It Pretty

I am one step closer to officially joining the visual merchandising team (or as I call it the "make it pretty squad") at my retail job. I'll still have to work sales twice a week, but will spend the majority of my time off the sales floor away from the cash registers and constantly ringing phones.

When tempted to find greener employment grass, I count my many blessings in the form of short commute to work (less than 5 miles) in the downtown design district, free garage parking, creative coworkers who I like a lot, generous employee discount across several brands, and within walking distance to my favorite shopping spots: Whole Foods, Book People and Anthropologie.

Being a full-time gym-bunny/trophy-wife/lady-who-lunches isn't an option at this point in my life. I have to work for my mental health, financial health and socializing health. Plus I usually grab a salad from Whole Foods for lunch for my physical health. Mmm... Whole Foods salad bar.

It's About Time!

Finally! I have another dinner mystery show on the calendar. And a new script to memorize. *sigh* Click on the flyer below to make it larger.

It's been a month? Already?

Oh hi. I really meant to get in touch, and update the blog. My part-time job went full-time without my consent. I also had a nasty sinus situation. So, you know, busy-busy!

Here are some hard truths:

That retail store for which I work made some scratchy sheets, which I bought, and with which I am unhappy. 100% cotton? Really? No steel wool in there?

I spent several glorious days building out displays at my retail job. I did not love the 5:00 AM start time, but I did love making things pretty and organized. I also loved the very limited interaction with customers. The boss-lady said I did a great job, so I look forward to more days of building prettiness in the near future, I hope.

For every ten lovely, courteous customers, there is one real stinker of a human being who can ruin your whole day.

A lady stood at the cash wrap of my retail job on a busy Saturday and cut her fingernails, letting the cut bits fall to floor. In public.

A professional recruiter I know wants to place me in an office job where I will make a lot more money. I want to make sure I have a window with a decent view and natural lighting at said job, or the money won't be worth it.

I performed in eight dinner shows between Thanksgiving and Christmas. I have not performed in one dinner show or theatrical show since Christmas. Can I still call myself a part-time actress?

I barely have time to keep up with household chores, let alone pursue any creative activities beyond cutting Chad's hair. I really like cutting Chad's hair, but am not at all comfortable cutting anyone else's hair, so don't ask.

Hope to have something more fabulous to share before another month passes. Fingers crossed!