My, What a Wonderful Weekend

There are moments I wish I could put in a jar and carry with me everywhere. Whenever I was feeling depressed or misunderstood or unhappy with the general trajectory of my life, I'd take that little jar out of my pocket and nothing could touch me. I want to put the last four days in that jar.

From the time she arrived in the wee hours of Friday morning, Weatherly and I had a blast and a half. We spent the first night giggling and drinking wine well past four in the morning. The next day, we dragged ourselves out of bed to go wander around downtown. Our first stop was a quick tour of my office, followed by a wander through the stacks at Powells.



Continuing our journey, we grabbed grilled cheese sandwiches from the Grilled Cheese Grill and ate them at Director Park. We rounded out the afternoon with a quick visit to several of my former coworkers and a guerilla rooftop hang before hopping a bus back across the river. The evening truly kicked off once we parked ourselves on Doug Fir's patio and were joined by Jonathan and Conor.



Doug Fir led to Rontoms, where something was apparently very funny.



We paused to snap a photo...



before moving on to dinner at Que Pasa Cantina. Our final destination was supposed to involve karaoke at the Hutch, but we found a handwritten sign blocking the door once we'd walked all the way down there. Fortunately, Bobby and I have Rock Band, so we called Tara and Brandon to re-route them to our house for more fun. We sang many songs, I was equally terrible at drums and guitar, and Bobby and Weatherly kept the performance going long after our other guests had departed and I'd settled in for a siesta on the couch.

Day two: drag ourselves out of bed for breakfast at Genie's before heading up to Grant Park to visit a certain bronze statue of Ramona Quimby:



On to Williams and Hawthorne to poke around little boutiques, then a sandwich at Grand Central Bakery. Sushi from Yoko's, pastries from Pix, and a couple episodes of The State rounded out our Saturday.

Sunday held more breakfast, this time at the Tin Shed, and visits to various fabric and yarn shops. The afternoon was reserved for the Ringers' annual Memorial Day Weekend party. This year's had a garden party theme. Observe:











Today was Weatherly's last day in town, and we were committed to making the most of it. Our food plans involved a 9 a.m. trip to Broder with Conor and Jonathan, but we'd also promised Weatherly beignets from Delta Cafe. Thus, the Tribrekta was born. We'd go to Broder, hungry up for an hour or two, drop in on Delta for beignets only, and cap off the morning with a visit to Voodoo Doughnut. Unfortunately I'd neglected that today was Monday, and Delta's brunches are weekend-only. I'd also never seen such a crazy line at the satellite Voodoo location, so those plans were scrapped too. Instead we wandered up Woodstock and had lunch at Toast. Finally, we met Bobby's mom, dad, and sister for dinner at the Laughing Planet in our neighborhood.

Intersperse hours of giggling, hugs, and much-needed conversation, and I had a mighty perfect weekend. Until next time, madame bestie. I miss you already.

Guest room makeover

In anticipation of a very special visitor, our guest room received a much-needed makeover. I'd been looking for the perfect wall color for quite a while. My heart was set on a cheerful, grassy green, so there have been samples taped and splashed on the wall for months. Those who've visited my house know the walls are coated in a generic yellowy beige very popular with showings and general boringness. As someone who cannot stand beige, I will not rest until it is eradicated from every square inch of my home. See below for an example of the "before" color:



Awful, right? Then there's the problem of the dresser. In 2002, I moved into my first apartment, which required a bed, a desk, and a dresser. All this stuff is surprisingly expensive for a 19-year-old college junior, so I scoured the Santa Cruz thrift stores for an appropriate clothes-holder. What I found looked something like this (not an actual photo from that time, but a similar model):



Awful, right? Like I stole it from some 1980s prom queen. That color had to go. With inspiration from a very dear friend, I transformed that sad old dresser into this (pictured in my actual 2002 apartment):



Ten years (and as many moves) later, though, my beloved hot pink dresser was starting to look more than a little worn, dated, and childish. If we were going to make over the guest room, the dresser would have to be included. So began the great dresser repainting of 2012.



When I'd originally painted it, I had no idea what I was doing. In lieu of sanding or any other prep work, I painted straight over the original finish (and original thrift store gunk). Worried about chipping the fresh paint job, I slapped a thick coat of polyurethane over top of the whole thing and called it a day. Did I mention that I completed this task in the middle of my living room? Goodbye security deposit. My initial carelessness turned out to be a positive thing. Chemical stripper made short work of the hot pink paint. The original white and gold lacquer was a different story. Here's what the midway point looked like:





That lacquer was a wily beast. Many hours of scraping, sanding, and attacking with power tools later, a grownup dresser began to take shape:



At long last, it was time to return the freshly-painted dresser to its home in our freshly-painted guest room. Snazzy green walls, new art, fresh curtains and bedding, a wall mirror, and a new nightstand later, our guest room is now the well-appointed suite pictured below (complete with a copy of Fugitives and Refugees and a handmade roller derby pillow from Aunt Carol):







Finished just in time for Ms. Weatherly, who arrives in a matter of days.