When Julie saw that I’d bought this triangle-print day bag from Bookhou, she said, “If you were a bag…” And she’s totally right. Really, “old bag” jokes aside, this is me in bag form. Aside from the perfect print (which I blogged about in tea towel form a while back), the size is ideal. I have a reputation for dragging around huge, heavy bags that make my back feel miserable, so I’ve been looking for a smaller, cotton bag for days when I expect to be walking around a lot but want something fancier than a tote. This is exactly it.

Of course, now I also want the matching loop scarf (thanks to Victoria, who knows an Anna-scarf when she sees one!), and maybe also this beautiful pouch to store the iPad I don’t have…

Speaking of Bookhou, have you seen founders John and Arounna’s Toronto home in the latest issue of Covet Garden? It’s every bit as lovely as you’d imagine it would be.

Did you know that Ice Cube studied architectural drafting before getting into rap? Yeah, me neither, but apparently he did, and now he’d like to tell you why he loves Los Angeles…and why he loves Charles and Ray Eames.

I like this a lot. I enjoy when my interests fold in on each other in unexpected ways.

Update: I missed this yesterday, but the New York Times also has an interview with Ice Cube about making this video. Best quote: “You don’t want to live in nothing I draw. I got a certificate. For a year. In ’88. I don’t think I picked up a T-square since.” (Thanks, Catherine!)

Speaking of which, have you seen Eames: The Architect and the Painter yet? Evan and I went to see it at the IFC Center a couple of weeks ago, and we really enjoyed it. The movie (narrated by James Franco, yay!) more about their lives, motivations and work processes than it is an exhaustive look at their output, and that’s what makes it so interesting. If you have the chance to see it in the theater, GO. It’s a fun hour and twenty minutes.

If you can’t see the movie in the theater, you can catch it on December 19th at 10:00pm on the PBS series “American Masters,” and after that on PBS on demand.

My love for neon-hot pink continues to abound. I’ve noticed it creeping into my Instagram photos a lot over the past couple of weeks.

ONE ♡ I finally ordered a THERE IS THUNDER IN OUR HEARTS tote bag from Fieldguided, and of course I opted for the fluoro pink version. I lovelovelove Kate Bush, by the way. Her new album, 50 Words For Snow, is out next week—but it’s streaming now on NPR.

TWO ♡ Why exactly did I buy neon pink duct tape? You got me, but I was at Target and there it was, so home with me it went. I’m presently hoping for something to require duct-taping in the near future. I keep thinking about Bertjan Pot’s duct tape rug, too…

THREE ♡ I used neon orange ink for the hardcover edition of this book, but for the paperback (out next June), I went with Pantone 806—my favorite chip in the book, and the hottest neon pink imaginable. It’s not a color I get to use often in printed work, so I seized the opportunity!

FOUR ♡ I’ve been working my way through the same bulk package of neon pink highlighters for about 10 years now, and as of yesterday, I’m down to my last one. As Charlie pointed out, the classic Sanford Pocket Accent doesn’t even look like this anymore—in fact, they’ve dropped the Sanford name completely, and are now just branded as Sharpies. Apparently I’ve been doing a highlighter time-warp for the past decade.

FIVE ♡ Is there anything that doesn’t look better with neon pink washi tape on it? If there is, I haven’t discovered it yet. Lately I’ve been using it to wrap around packages in lieu of ribbon or string, and as decoration on top of utilitarian packing tape when putting something wrapped in brown paper in the mail.

SIX ♡ Despite the fact that my iPhone is basically glued to my side at all times, I still can’t give up my neon Post-it Notes. I always use the pink ones first and hope someone else will take the others! I write everything on Post-Its. I even stick them to my iPhone! And to my wallet. And to the cash inside my wallet. And all over my computer monitor. Like I’ve said before, I’ve gotta write stuff down.

This is my new affirmation banner from Secret Holiday. I haven’t found the right place to hang it yet, but it’s already making me feel good in its temporary spot. It’s pretty great, yeah? I’m not usually one for inspirational posters (I always think of the “Hang in There!” kitten), but I think this banner is exactly what I need in my life.

The word OK is hugely comforting for me. About a year ago, I wrote a post about body image and self-acceptance called “I’m OK”, and I come back to it all the time when I’m feeling down on myself. There’s a reason it wasn’t called “I’m perfect” or even “I’m fine.” The word OK implies something else—it takes into account a certain amount of shortcoming, I think, and makes it alright. OK.

I had dinner with Jenna the other night, and we talked about the practice of looking at the worst case scenario as a means to bring peace of mind. That might sound counterintuitive, but think about it—if you let yourself look at the worst possible outcome when faced with either a situation that seems beyond your control or with making a decision that feels impossible, where does that outcome actually leave you? Are you still putting one foot in front of the other? Are you still sleeping in a bed at night? Of course horribly tragic things can happen at any time, but for the most part, you’ll probably be alright—and more than likely, you won’t even have to face that worst case scenario. Accept the shortcomings, accept the negatives, and be glad that everything is pretty OK.

OK? OK!

Oh, hello there! Remember me? I’m Anna. I used to have a blog—this one right here that you’re reading, in fact! I also used to have time to do things like tile bathrooms, vacuum, go outdoors, shower, cook, think, and sleep.

I’ve written plenty here about what I do for a living, and I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I like working in-house for a publishing company. I love it, in fact. I’ve been at my job for nearly 14 years now, and I have no desire say goodbye to my 9–5 job (which is really more like 9:30–6:30, but you know what I mean). There are times, though, when I like to design something that’s not a book cover. And sometimes I also think it might be nice to have a little extra cash. More than both of those things, though, I really like to help people and make stuff look nice.

So I started taking on some freelance design work. Which turned into lots of freelance design work. Which then became lots and lots of freelance design work. Before I knew it, I was working about 100 hours a week between my full-time job and my “night shift.” My freelance hours started to outnumber my full-time hours, leaving me with the equivalent of about 2½ full-time jobs.

And that’s not alright.

If you follow me on Twitter, then you are probably well aware of ever-increasing stress levels and ever-decreasing sleeping hours, since that’s all I really talk about anymore. I’m busy, I’m tired, I’m drinking coffee, I’m still awake, I’m busy, I’m going to have another coffee…and holy mackerel, I’m so tired. Ad nauseum.

After this weekend, I’m taking a break from doing freelance work for a while. I’m not sure how long, but I need to stop, step back, and think about what I really want to be getting out of the work that I’m electing to do in my free time. I’ve learned some lessons over the past few months:

1. It is okay to say no. I know that seems obvious, and I’m sure we all think we know already, but it’s hard for me to say no to people. I think this is especially true of those of use who truly LOVE what do for a living, either because we tend to see our work as an extension of our everyday lives, or because we honestly just like to make someone happy by saying YES. Also—and I know my fellow designers with sympathize—sometimes you don’t want to say no to a project because you worry that it will wind up in the hands of someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, and then there will just be one more piece of bad design in the world. Yes, that is a completely self-important attitude loaded to the brim with ridiculousness, but it’s the truth.

2. Money doesn’t really motivate me. Yes, it’s great to not have to struggle to make ends meet and to be able to buy nice things every now and then, but really—I don’t care much about money. I never think about potential income in relation to the work that I do. Book publishing is a notoriously low-paying field of design, and I’m okay with that. I always have been, because I love books and I love designing the packages that contain them. The same goes for the non-book freelance work that I do. I really have to care about the project (and the person or people behind it) in order with it to be worth my time. After all, if it’s not about the money, the reason take on a job has to be a little more meaningful than “because it’s there.”

3. I am always going to be one person, and there are always going to be 24 hours in a day. Again, I know that’s obvious, but I’ve had some moments of delirium lately in which I am fully convinced that if I could only clone myself or hit my head on the bathroom sink and invent a flux capacitor, then maybe I’d be able to get my work done. This is crazy-talk. No one should elect to live their life this way just because they don’t know how to say no (see item #1).

4. There’s more to life than coffee, you know (but not much more). I make no secret about my love of coffee, but that love should really be based more on enjoying the taste, the aroma, and the ritual of the brewing process—not on a desperate need to consume as much as possible in order to avoid drooling on my keyboard at 3AM. I mean…really now.

5. I am totally in the right field of work. I love being a designer. I love taking on challenges that require me to think about structure, organization, space and hierarchy. I love making grids. I love doing font research. I love showing something I’ve done to a client and having them get excited (and sometimes even cry—you know who you are!) about seeing their words or product or music wrapped up and presented in a way that perfectly represents exactly who they are and what they do. I love finishing a project and feeling like it looks like me, too. I like making stuff look good. I love that putting two colors together can make someone feel happy. I like pretty things that work well.

I’m really looking forward to getting normal amounts of sleep, though, and having time to just be a human every now and then.

I am truly at a loss for words right now. They will come, though, and when they do, I will leave them in the comments below.

I invite you to share your thoughts on how Steve Jobs has impacted all of our lives, and to talk about what he and his work meant to you personally. I know I’ll find it cathartic (and inspiring!) to read in the days to come, and I’m sure others will, too.

This is not a happy radiator. This is a sad, rusty radiator covered with peeling paint that’s probably filled with lead. We’re constantly having to sweep up the chips so the dogs don’t eat them, and in the winter we have to wrap the whole thing in foil because it’s such a mess when the heat is on.

We’ve had two other radiators in the house sandblasted and powder-coated, and as great as the results are, it’s expensive. We have ten of these cast iron monsters, so there’s no way we can have them all done professionally, so we have to limit ourselves to the ones that are too far gone to take care of ourselves. This one in the living room is definitely on that short list.

Let’s look at some HAPPY RADIATORS instead!

Home of stylist and interior designer Jo Berryman, as seen on 1st Option

Yeah, I know, I’m not really looking at the radiator either (why is Damien Hirst following me everywhere I go?). But see it over there in the corner, all cute and black? I love how it looks in this mostly-white room—it grounds that corner really nicely. My only concern with a black radiator is that we already have black doors and a black wall in the living room, and I hesitate to add a third shade of black to the same room.

Photo by Christopher Baker for Blueprint magazine (I still miss you, Blueprint!)

YESSSSSS. I love this bright, screaming yellow. I showed this picture to my mother (I’m sure she appreciates me linking to those photos again, hah!) yesterday, and she said that my house isn’t “eclectic” enough (!!!) to have a yellow radiator. Oh, I see—it’s like THAT. Huh. No, I understand what she’s saying, but at the same time, I’m really not afraid of having a radiator be such an eye-grabber in what is otherwise a mostly-neutral room.

Like Tim Gunn says, though…it’s a lot of look.

Home of J. Abbott Miller and Ellen Lupton; see more in Lupton’s Flickr set

My mother’s suggestion was to go with red instead of yellow, but I dunno. I really like how the red looks with all of the warm grays and the floor coverings in the Lupton/Miller house, but I don’t know that red feels as nice when it’s mixed with a lot of black and white. Plus, our wood floors have such a reddish tone to them already that I worry a red radiator will just look muddy and blah in our house.

Brooklyn homes on Bergen Street and in Park Slope with interiors created by Wary Meyers

I’ve posted the photo of the gradient radiator before, but it’s too great to leave out of this post. I love love love it. Probably not right for our house (and not really suitable to powder-coating, I don’t think), but still amazing. The photo on the right wouldn’t work for us either for obvious reasons, but it’s good inspiration. We do have seven more radiators left to contend with, after all…

Photo of MJ © Michael Ochs Archive, used here as a derivative work / “This Is It” directed by Spike Lee

How cute are these pillows?! The moment Elisabeth Dunker (whose work graces many rooms in my house!) sent out an email announcing their addition to the Fine Little Day shop, I added them to my ever-growing list of pillows I love and desire.

Now that Fritz has stopped chewing on stuff (okay, mostly—every now and then he still enjoys a good tassel), I feel like it might be okay to buy a few nice pillows. I love pillows. I want a pillow on every chair, tons of them on the sofa, a bed covered with them—I basically want to live in a giant pillow. I could always get this, I guess:

Christiane Högner’s Cushionized Sofa is the stuff dreams are made of—literally. Can you even imagine tossing your body down on that thing at the end of a long day? It would be like tumbling into a marshmallow fantasy land of sleepytime goodness.

I want everything Donna Wilson has ever made, really, but her recent Nos Da Collection is my most favorite of all. The “licorice” cushion is so, so beautiful. I’ve been fantasizing about it for long time now, but just recently saw it in person for the first time—and now I covet it even more. And how can you not love the Blah Blah cushion?! Perfect for resting your head on while pretending to be engaged in a draggy phone conversation.

OMG, THIS PILLOW. This is one of those things I swear was made just for me. It’s cotton, it’s velvety, it’s got multi-level textures, it’s earthy-yet-graphic, there’s yellow involved, and…TRIANGLES. I love a good triangle. The Turbine pillow from CB2 is awesome, and I may or may not have already ordered one in a fit of glee.

Speaking of triangles…yeah, I saved the best for last. It’s the holy grail of pillows—one made from Alexander Girard’s Checker Split fabric. Circa50 makes pillows from a variety of Girard fabrics, but Checker Split will always be my favorite-favorite. This pattern inspired the one on the sometimes-rug in my living room (I say “sometimes” because the dogs seem to have decided that every rug is a giant wee-wee pad, so actually it’s more like “no time-rug”…sigh), and I just love it so much. I’ve held off investing in a Girard pillow for a long time, though, because I just know that the second I turn my back, Fritz is going to chew off one of the corners.

Indeed, sometimes the dogs win. Maybe I need to have a private pillow sanctuary behind a dog gate. Oh, come on…who am I kidding?

Exactly, Fritz. Exactly.

Earlier this morning, while I was searching the 13-year-old depths of my backup drive, I came across my blog header from 2002. It was collage-y and grunge-y and vintage-y and all of the other -ies that that I was into at that time, and I was immediately reminded of someone who had a huge influence on my work—artist, designer and typographer Eduardo Recife.

I love Eduardo’s use of found elements, pieced textures and patterns, hand-drawn letterforms and traditionally-set typography. There’s a roughness to his work that’s countered so perfectly by often romantic or Victorian imagery, and that contrast is so appealing to me. It’s a look that retailers like Anthropologie and Alternative Apparel have channeled with great success over the years, but never with quite the same level of artistry as Eduardo.

You could spend a year trying to emulate his work (and believe me, I’ve tried!) and never do what he does as well as he does. I’ve taken influence from Eduardo and put it into my graphic design work, the interior of my home, my personal style—everything. He just understands the balances between old/new and hard/soft so well.

Clockwise: “Dream”, “Chords”, “Love”, and “Give to Get” Giclée prints by Eduardo Recife

I was happy to discover after not having visiting Eduardo’s personal work website, Misprinted Type, for quite some time that he now has giclée prints of his work available for purchase through inPRNT. I haven’t decided which ones I want to buy yet, but I will definitely be bringing a couple into my home very soon!

One of my favorite things about Eduardo’s approach to creating is his willingness to share resources and materials with others. If you check out the “goodies” and “fonts” section of Misprinted Type, you’ll see he makes a huge number of hand-drawn typefaces, brushes, and vector elements available—many of them for free.

Make sure you also take time to look at his recent commercial work, too—the colors are so incredibly fresh and delicious-looking, and his style still looks as current and unmatchable in its coolness as ever.

“E o amor?” giclée print by Eduardo Recife

I’ve lived in New York for my entire life, and as much I love this state all the time, I love it more than ever right now. A few hours ago, the New York Senate voted 33-29 in favor of legalizing same-sex marriage, which brings this country a whole lot closer to realizing our founding ideals of equality.

To every tireless LGBT advocate who has fought for equal rights for decades; to every senator who crossed party lines to ensure the bill’s passage; to Governor Andrew Cuomo; and to everyone who wasn’t afraid to SPEAK OUT and ACT UP in order to get this done—THANK YOU.

And to all of my beloved friends who until today were denied the right to choose to marry if and who they wish, thank you for hanging in there. I never took for granted that I could do what you couldn’t without a second thought. And I love you so much.

Now go and have the BEST Pride Weekend EVER.

Imagine my excitement this morning when I learned that Orla Kiely—she of perfect textiles, perfect bags, perfect wallpaper, perfect pattern, perfect everything—is opening a store in New York City! Yes, it’s true, this September Orla’s first US store (2300 square feet!) will open at 5 Mercer Street in SoHo.

I’m actually not someone who gets terribly excited about big-name clothing or accessory designers, but Orla Kiely is an exception. I love just about everything she designs, and every season I’m excited to see her new collections (there’s a lot more to her work than the classic stem print!). To be able to see everything in person will be such a treat—after all, I don’t buy everything I admire from afar, but sometimes it’s nice just to touch coveted items with my greedy little paws.

Some of the Orla Kiely magic in my life: The wallpaper in my vestibule, this bag, another bag (yes, Evan bought it for me after I wrote that post!), and this bag too…oh, and that vase, and all of the other little things I’ve amassed but never documented. I really will need to contain myself when the store opens. But hey! Now Evan knows where he can go whenever a gift-giving occasion arises!

You can read more about Orla Kiely’s soon-to-be New York City store in Vogue UK and on the New York Times blog.

Edited to include the short film by Mercedes Helnwein that was shown at the Orla Kiely welcoming party at the Ace Hotel on Tuesday night…

And I can’t resist throwing in a few photos of Orla at home here, too. Since, you know, it’s perfect and all.

Top row: Photos from Grazia Living; Bottom row: Photos from LivingEtc (left) and Mail Online (right)

(Huge thanks to @GennersB for the tip!!)

Late last night one of my all-time favorite movies was on, and about 45 minutes in I decided to start taking screen caps with my iPhone. I wish I’d started at the beginning! I can’t even say that these are my favorite scenes, because really? EVERY scene in Pee-wee’s Big Adventure is the best scene. It’s like a completely perfect movie. If I had to guess, I’d say I’ve seen it upwards of 100 times…and yet, it’s still not enough.

The first time I saw Pee-wee’s Big Adventure was in 1985, when it first came out. My brother Gordy was home from college, and he could not stop talking about it. He took me and our mother to see it at Upstate Films, the local independent theater (remember, Pee-wee’s TV show didn’t start until a year later, so at that point he was mainly an underground/cult phenomenon—and nobody knew who Tim Burton was yet, either). I screamed when large Marge did her thing, of course, and choked with laughter during Pee-wee’s big shoe dance. A lifelong love of Pee-wee (and of Tim Burton and Danny Elfman, too, though I didn’t realize it until a few years later when Beetlejuice came out) was born that night.

I strive to be a little bit (or maybe a lot bit) like Pee-wee, and I still wish every day that my mornings could be like this. Yes, the décor and everything (Nerd-alert: Pee-wee has an Eames DKR chair in his kitchen next to his stove—check out its cameo at the 4:40 mark!).

Maybe I need to start keeping a roll of Scotch tape in the bathroom just in case.

I seem to have been pegged as living in an “all black and white” home (which I think is kind of funny, considering how much bright color there is all over the place in my house—I love color!), but there’s a really special place in my heart for hot pink. It just looks so good alongside wood and creamy whites and grays! The hot pink pillows in my living room always make me happy, and in my upstairs hallway, my eye always goes right to that hot pink Cure poster.

I try not to make gender-based associations with colors, and honestly, I really don’t see hot pink as being particularly feminine. Evan has a hot pink tie (wish I had a photo; he looks great in it), and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t feel especially girlie when he wears it, you know? Colors are don’t know if we’re boys or girls…they’re here to make ALL of us happy.

So yes, anyway, here’s my hot pink wish list!

1. Yes, that’s a hot pink Thonet chair. You know, there’s really nothing a Thonet chair can’t do. They look good with traditional furniture, they look good with modern furniture, and they look good in screaming-bright hot pink. ABC Home is taking orders now for delivery this month. [Via Jaime at Design Milk, who's putting them in her new house.]

2. 7.5 lbs of wrench. If you have $475 lying around that you want to spend on a hot pink, giant decorative wrench, I highly recommend that you head over to Iacoli & McAllister and give them your money immediately. It comes in a “laser etched custom pine crate”, and maybe (maybe!) it’ll be hand-delivered by the guy in the photo. [EDIT: The awesome pink wrench model has been identified as photographer Frank Correa. Thanks, Bree!]

3. Adjustable wood & stonewear vase. I first spotted this super-awesome vase from ¿adónde? on Lisa Congdon’s “It List” at SFGirlbyBay, and I’m totally smitten with it. I love how configurable it is, and also that it kind of looks like a giant crayon. Want.

Do you have a hot pink wish list?

My obsession with hot-orange-red lipstick (previously well-documented here) has shown no signs of letting up over the past six months, and now that we’re moving into warmer months, I’ve been determined to find a glossy, sheer substitute for my beloved MAC Lady Danger, which is very matte and very opaque.

Last night I was killing time wandering around Bigelow Pharmacy before meeting up with a bunch of awesome women (more on that later) for dinner, and I happened to catch sight of Chinatown Glossy Pencils (named for the incredible Polanski movie of the same name) from Poppy King’s Lipstick Queen line. It was the Genre color in particular that drew my eye—a nearly neon, screaming-bright orange. I gave it a swipe on my hand, and to my surprise, it went on sheer and shiny, but with enough pigmentation to look more substantial than regular lip gloss. Exactly what was looking for.

It helps, of course, that the packaging for Lipstick Queen is top-notch. How gorgeous is that pencil? And the box is pretty, too. Because the pencil is so large, they include a properly-sized sharpener. I think that’s a nice touch, especially since it would never have occurred to me to buy a sharpener separately, and then I’d have been sitting there with an X-Acto knife trying (and failing) to whittle it into a fresh point.

This morning I tried out my new pencil, and I’m really, really pleased. Because the pencil is so forgiving, there’s no need to even look in the mirror when applying. The texture is smooth, flavorless and tasteless, and the color is buildable. Perfect, really. I can’t say it’s particularly long-wearing, but it doesn’t disappear immediately or fade/dry weirdly, either.

Several years ago, I designed the cover for Poppy King’s book, Lessons of a Lipstick Queen (it looks much prettier in person than it does in images online—I had it printed on gold paper, and the poppies that border the bottom edge of the book are rendered in a transparent glossy film), which was released just she was launching her Lipstick Queen line in 2008. It’s an inspiring read if you have any interest in starting your own business or becoming any kind of entrepreneur, or even if you (like me) just enjoy reading about people who take initiative and believe strongly in what they do every day. Funnily enough, though, I’d never bought one of her products until yesterday. I already liked Poppy’s voice, and now I like her lipstick, too.

Speaking of people who believe strongly in what they do, last night I had a wonderful dinner at Gobo Restaurant with really great group of women—Victoria from SFGirlbyBay and her friend Joni, Grace from Design*Sponge, artist Lisa Congdon and her partner Clay, Kelly Lynn from Little Paper Planes, Jaime from Design Milk, and Hijiri from Heartfish Press. It wasn’t a “blogging convention” or a networking meeting or anything, it was just fun and food and laughter. I’m very lucky to have met so many amazing people online over the years, and it was a real treat to have a chance to hang out with a bunch of them in person. (And yeah, they’re all as cool and pretty and nice as you imagine they are!)

In the midst of a fit of impatience over the seemingly endless wait for a new Morrissey album (He’s spoiled us over the years, really—to the point that I get very anxious if much time passes with no album or New York tour date. And good grief, it’s been two whole years since the last time I saw him. I don’t want to wait any longer!), I started thinking about how he’s really one of the few artists I still care about buying music from in a physical format. I’m one of those kinds of fans who buys everything—every album, every single, every format; LPs, 45s, 12″s, CDs…and Heaven knows there are even cassingles (ugh, worst Frankenword ever) stashed away in my closet.

One of these days I’ll have to drag everything out and take a photo of it all.

What was I talking about? Oh yes, the physical albums. Aren’t the sleeves for the Smiths’ records great? They just perfectly capture what it is that made the Smiths who they were—you’ve got high glamor, homoeroticism, iconography, idolatry, melancholia, film stars, nostalgia, wit, the working class, fading beauty and gender ambiguity. I love the mono/duo-tones, the very basic fonts and understated typography, and, especially considering the style popular album covers of the era veered toward, the somewhat “undesigned” look of the collection as a whole.

Because the Smiths put out so much recorded material in such a short period of time (the selection above represents less than six years’ worth of recordings—incredible, right?), they were really able to establish a consistent visual aesthetic that’s instantly identifiable as their own…without ever appearing on the front of one of their own recordings. Not even once! In contrast, Morrissey appears on the covers of nearly all of his solo releases, something I’m sure was very deliberate and quite well-planned.

(Who’s the icon now, suckers?)

All of the Smiths’ sleeves were, of course, conceived of and created by Morrissey, with art direction on nearly all by his personal assistant, Jo Slee, and layout design by Caryn Gough (there are a few exceptions—“Sheila Take a Bow”, for example, is credited to Andy Warhol). The partnership of Jo Slee and Morrissey lasted into the early ’90s, extending into the first phase of his solo career.

Slee, by the way, released a book in 1994 called Peepholism in which she delves deeply and exhaustively into the process of creating these covers with Morrissey. It’s hard to find and quite expensive as it’s long been out of print, but if you happen to find a copy, buy it. Even if you have to sell everything you own (Squander your cash! Be rash!). It’s that good.

Speaking of that good…

What can I say? Another of my heroes has died, this one lovelier than most, and she’ll be eulogized endlessly in the coming days. Every writeup will mention her childhood in films, her violet eyes, her staggering beauty, her many marriages, her love of jewels and perfume, her struggle with addiction, her longtime friendship with Michael Jackson, her tireless devotion to raising funds for AIDS research, and her unwavering support of gay rights. Let’s not forget, though, that she was also a spectacular actress (my all-time favorite Liz Taylor movie is the underrated Butterfield 8, with Giant running a close second—but I could watch her in anything) and the kind of person who never stopped living life to its fullest.

I love this quote that I saw in the New York Times—when asked recently if she’d be writing her memoirs, Liz replied, “Hell no, I’m still living my memoirs.” I remember seeing photos of her in swimming with sharks (!!) in Hawaii a few years ago, donning a wet t-shirt and a snorkel and an absolutely enormous smile and falling in love with her all over again.

As a Michael Jackson fan, I can’t memorialize Liz Taylor without taking a moment to thank her for always sticking by her best friend, and for being brave enough to speak out in support of him not only behind closed doors, but in public. I don’t think I believe in an afterlife, but if I did, I’d like to think that Mike and Liz are out there somewhere running around with Super Soakers, petting baby elephants, playing dress-up, and enjoying childhood fun together without the constant gaze of a camera.

Photos © MJJ Pictures

Michael performing for Elizabeth at her 65th birthday celebration on February 16, 1997.

Rest in peace, Dame Elizabeth.

Grace has a great post up today over at Design*Sponge about music to start your day with, and as I was leaving my comment about the songs that never fail to get me going (“Blame It On The Boogie” by the Jacksons and “Push” by the Cure), I decided that I’m going to let the mood of this video dictate my attitude for this entire week. Or at least the rest of today. Or even just this morning. I’ll do the best I can!

I’m a strong believer in the idea that if you pretend to be enthusiastic about something, you will eventually find yourself actually becoming engaged and genuinely happy to be doing what you’re doing. I tend to be super-cynical about so much in life, and that cynicism (of course) inevitably leads to feeling grouchy and put-out over having to do all of the things that need to be done over the course of a day. Even the most tedious of tasks (I’m looking at a stack of invoices as I write this) is more fun if you fake having a good time.

Not that Mike and the boys are faking it here, of course, but really…I need to let the dirty rhythm move me and get on with my day, already. More boogie, less whining!

This is a pretty hot look, right? Yeah, this is my basement-demolition suit. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me to buy one of these things five years ago, because it’s kind of the greatest thing ever. If you’ve ever done demo work, then you know how completely filthy you get during the process. It sucks. Dirt and grime and plaster and dust and soot and everything else imaginable get everywhere,including into your hair, down the back of your neck, and into the fibers of your clothing.

This purchase means that I can work in leggings and a t-shirt and just throw my fancy white suit on over them (there’s even an elasticized hood to protect my hair!) and emerge, hours later, with nary a speck of dirt on my clothing. Fabulous.

So yeah, I’ve been working in the basement. A lot. I think I’ve clocked about 17 hours down there so far, and there are many, many, many more hours (years?) left to come. I’m actually having fun (!) though, in a weird way. I guess because anything I do can only be an improvement.

I know, I know, it still looks like a mess, but when you consider how it looked 20 days ago, it’s a pretty major improvement. I’ve filled up about 20 enormous contractor bags with various types of non-salvageable debris already, corralled an area of things to donate, and organized and condensed all of the stuff we’re keeping. Eventually there will be proper storage down there and it will all be put away, but at least you can walk across the room now…and more importantly, you can FIND STUFF.

These shelves under the stairs were here before (I don’t think I got a photo of them), but they were a crazy, jumbled mess. I’d still like to see everything stashed in bins on the shelves to reduce visual clutter, but again, at least now I can find a tape measure or a screwdriver when I need it. I’m not sure I’m at a point yet with this basement where I should be talking about “visual clutter”, anyway!

See that? We took down a whole wall of paneling! It was really satisfying…and really disgusting. The basement was flooded with about 3′ of water once upon a time (probably due to a burst water pipe when it was a boarded-up HUD house), and the paneling basically comes down in thin, delaminated sheets. As you can see, the brick underneath is worse for the wear because of the water damage too, but fortunately this isn’t an exterior wall.

Evan pulled down all of the furring strips on the rafters left over from the former drop ceiling, but we decided to leave the furring strips on the wall on place in case we want to put up new paneling—we’ll see. You can buy pre-painted sheets of white beadboard-style paneling that’s rated for moisture resistance in below-grade applications (see link below), and it looks pretty good. Certainly better than the brown stuff that’s down there now, and also better than crumbly brick with layers of peeling paint on it!

I also pulled up about 450 square feet of vinyl floor tiles, which was grueling…but again, really satisfying. We’re thinking we’ll probably just give the floor a good scrubbing and paint it with basement/garage floor paint. I’m not going to worry about the unevenness. We can patch anything really egregious, but we don’t want to pour a whole new floor. I figure I can always throw down a few sisal mats to make the space a little less cold.

Designer Tricia Foley‘s basement // Photographed by Eric Piasecki for Martha Stewart Living

Okay, humor me for a minute. I know my basement is never going to be this nice, but I can at least use this as a point of inspiration, right? We’re going to be leaving our rafters open, and I think painting everything up there with a fresh coat of white paint will really go a long way toward brightening the whole space up. I also love the way the beadboard paneling has been cut to fit around the rafters rather than stopping underneath, which is what I usually see in paneled basements. You won’t be seeing an open fireplace or picnic table in my basement, though, sorry. It’s for the best!

ETA: This is the info card for the moisture-resistant beadboard-style paneling I mentioned. The price is for one 4×8′ sheet. We saw it at Lowe’s, but I’m sure there are other places that sell it.

I was only five years old when John Lennon was murdered.

I don’t know where I was or what I was doing when it happened (it was late at night on a Monday, so I imagine I was asleep in bed). I’m not sure that I even knew who John Lennon was when I was five. Surely I’d heard the Beatles’ music somewhere, but my house as a young child was one filled with classical and folk music; never rock & roll.

By the next day at kindergarten, though, I was aware that something very sad had happened. Someone that a lot of people loved had died, and someone had killed him. I don’t think that concept—murder—had ever occurred to me before then. Why would it have? I remember hearing talk (maybe among my older siblings, or maybe on the radio, I’m not sure) about guns and about a crazy person, a nut-job. I was aware that the person who died was “famous”, a word I understood from seeing the Muppets Christmas special with John Denver, and that he sang songs and was in a band. I was also aware that John Lennon was murdered in New York City, a place I knew very well.

When an assassination attempt was made on President Reagan soon after, I understood what was going on because it was the same thing that had happened to John Lennon. There was more talk about guns and nut-jobs and fanatics. In my memory, the two events occurred simultaneously. I’m always surprised when I look at the dates and see that, in fact, three months elapsed between the shootings.

By the following year, I was fully immersed in pop and rock music. Two of my older sisters, Sarah and Melissa, were entering their teens, and my brother Gordy—ten years my senior—was playing more and more of his own records at home. My oldest sister, Lisa, had started making dubbed copies of records she’d discovered at college. The world opened up for me musically, and lifelong obsessions began to be born.

At some point, I figured out who the Beatles were, and that John Lennon had been one of them. I found out that John Lennon had a son, Sean, who was only a few days older than me. I also learned about his wife, an artist named Yoko, and where they had all lived together in New York. Everything I discovered about John Lennon was posthumous. By the time I had fallen in love with his music, his persona, his beliefs, his dreams…he was already gone. The loss still feels enormous, though.

Please visit & share your memories → John Lennon: The Teamaker, by Yoko Ono Lennon.

Photo © Tittenhurst Park Estate

Photo © Iain Macmillan // Courtesy Yoko Ono

Photo © Yoko Ono