grrgoyl: (snowcake scrabble)
[personal profile] grrgoyl
The good news is I FINALLY have my Parade of Homes posts sorted. I'm dividing them into five days so I don't deluge you all at once. You're welcome.

The REALLY good news, in case you missed my previous post, is I got tickets to see Rickman on Broadway!!! They went on sale at midnight (10 pm to me) and I was on the site at five minutes of. I got front row seats in the most expensive section we could afford, which unfortunately is the rear mezzanine, but still, front row!

My excitement over this development is only slightly (okay, pretty heavily actually) marred by my morning-after realization that the date I chose is the precise date of my period that month. I was so prepared three months ago that I got an app to plot my periods (don't roll your eyes at me -- they're not always the same length and I'm still not exactly clear when you're supposed to start counting the 28-day cycle, and anyway my last day isn't as well-defined as my first as they just sort of gradually taper off, and gentlemen, I apologize at this late juncture if all of this is TMI). Then in the heat of the moment I panicked that all the best tickets would get bought up quickly (you can imagine how Tery snorted at this) and the thought of my period just evaporated into thin air. Ironic, considering I'm actually on it right now.

So on my sister the nurse's advice, I'm seeing a gyno for medication options, because I'll be damned if I'm spending the day traipsing all over New York with a backpack full of maxipads and needing to find a bathroom every two hours. Dear Alan Rickman: I'm willing to chemically mess up my hormones for you. Call me!

~*~

Okay. Without further ado, the Parade of Homes 2011!

Sorry. A little more ado. Because I've been promising [livejournal.com profile] kavieshana for so long, the tale of standing up to MyFriendDeb: I've complained about this before, but as a refresher course, Deb has this peculiar habit of never being ready to go on time. I mean ever. And I mean I'll call to say I'm on my way right now (this is usually after calling 30 minutes previously to establish that I was starting to get ready). She lives ten minutes away. She KNOWS she lives ten minutes away. And without fail, I'll knock on the door and be greeted by the sight of her lagging woefully behind in preparations. Like, with no shoes on (big deal, you say. Well it wouldn't be if it didn't take her ten minutes to get shoes on, and don't ask me what in God's name she's doing that whole time to draw it out like that). Or still finding a coat. Or in this instance just starting in on what appeared to be lunch (and the woman eats like a bird. She can make a meal last 45 minutes).

I would estimate over the course of our 15-year friendship, I've spent a solid month standing at her front door watching her get ready (keep in mind we only hang out once a month or so). It's inconsiderate and selfish, and I doubt she's even aware she's doing it.

This time I had even deliberately stalled after making the "on my way right now" call, KNOWING this would happen. I sat in my car and fiddled with my phone's mp3 player a good ten minutes before leaving. I knew she would still make me wait, and I thought of what I would say if I had the balls.

Well, it turns out I DO have the balls, although I swear I hadn't made the conscious decision to actually use them. I took one look at her starting her meal when she knew I would be arriving at any second, and my mouth opened and I heard myself say, "Don't take this the wrong way, but my dream is to one day show up and have you actually be ready to go when I arrive."

She took it exactly the wrong way and I could feel her bristle. She mumbled some excuse that she had been ready, but she sat down and lost her momentum, which of course didn't explain why a loss of momentum would involve initiating a meal, but whatevs. Her excuse is she has no excuse, other than the fact she's lived alone for so long she's forgotten how (or perhaps never cared in the first place) to accommodate other people even minimally. This is Deb, and I doubt my statement will make a bit of difference next time, but at least I got an iota of anger off my chest.

I diffused the tense atmosphere with an observation that there was a single sneaker sitting on top of the carport outside, we laughed about it and the fight (and believe me, for us this was a fight) was forgotten.

So, NOW without further ado Parade of Homes 2011, Day One!

As I said before, this year there was nothing really spectacular about the homes, probably a reflection of the economy. They did stick to last year's format of making them free but scattering a lot more houses over several different parts of the city. We did our best to cover a lot, but sooner or later houses, even half-million dollar houses, all start to look very similar.

So similar that this first post won't even distinguish individual homes, just highlights of all of them. Which is kind of sad considering we hit the million-plus homes first to get them out of the way (which unfortunately a lot of other people had the same idea).


Nothing special about this pic, but I wanted to show you the newest design trend -- formal sitting areas facing the kitchen. Talk about pressure on the cook to entertain... Try to imagine it without that caveman lumbering by



Really liked this black wood nursery, even with the pink, except the zebra rug



What appears to be an iPad set in the wall as a master controller



Kind of cool ceiling fan outside



Surely there must have been some way to hide this ugly plumbing



The owner of this room has a ridonculous amount of hair accessories, but at least they're all kept fresh in these containers



Loved this sink fixture



Awkwardly placed vase, if you have any interest in watching TV



Loved this print, obvs



Loved this reading nook on a stair landing



Cool front foyer fountain, except for being a huge waste of water



Deb demonstrates how impractically high this peephole is. I could barely see over the edge of it myself. This house is clearly designed strictly for basketball players



Tery being silly



This study had a hidden room behind a wall panel, which I couldn't properly photograph due to the steady queue of people streaming in and out



This house had an awesome turret in the front foyer



This is what everyone is looking at on the second floor. LOVE (the nook, not myself. Well, I do love myself but that's not relevant)



Chaudenfroid (I realize that isn't the correct spelling)



Look! An in-ground trampoline. Those rich folks and their toys



I mentioned these last year -- rich people can't even have the same speed limits as the common folk. Ke-razy!


Coming soon: Days 2-5

Date: 2011-09-18 01:54 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] metatronis.livejournal.com
Those reading nooks are adorable. If there's one thing I would want from those houses, it would be that.

I know someone who has an in-ground trampoline (though much smaller and surrounded by weeds), and it always freaks me out cause if someone gets stuck in the edge it's a lot harder to help them out. I also don't trust what could be lurking underneath, but that's just my own paranoia.

Date: 2011-09-19 03:05 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] grrgoyl.livejournal.com
I agree. Though having lived in small apartments all my life (and of course my parents' boring old split-level ranch didn't have nooks of any kind), I think it would be weird to go somewhere special just to read a book, rather than just doing it in whatever room I happened to be in.

I never thought of that! How do we know there aren't subterranean lava sharks circling under there? With laser beams on their heads?

Date: 2011-09-18 04:01 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] halfcore.livejournal.com
I was wondering what the Parade of Homes actually was, but now I get it.

I love the reading nook, that is just awesome. (Predictably, I know.)

Date: 2011-09-19 03:06 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] grrgoyl.livejournal.com
Haha, you thought it was a moving parade of houses marching by?

Go figure, librarian man loves reading nooks! >;)

Date: 2011-09-22 09:05 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] halfcore.livejournal.com
Yeah! Or something. The name sort of implied it.

Date: 2011-09-23 05:00 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] grrgoyl.livejournal.com
I might have thought something similar the first year too, but don't tell MyFriendDeb that. ;)

Date: 2011-09-24 02:36 pm (UTC)

Date: 2011-09-25 07:27 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kavieshana.livejournal.com
I can't think of a nice way to say it - and I've been thinking about it - that's the most pathetic fight in the history of ever, despite the fact that this woman is clearly trying to antagonize you. Next time, show up two hours late.

I didn't know about the new trend with seating areas facing the kitchen, but that feels very strange. Why not get bar stools?

That's a really cute way to keep hair-ties. My aunt used to hang baskets in the bathroom and keep them color-coded.

In-ground trampolines? So dangerous. Why don't you surround that with pavement while you're at it OH LOOK YOU HAVE.

My whole goal in life now is to have a pseudo castle with reading nooks and secret rooms. Where's the line for selling my soul in exchange for a house?

Date: 2011-09-26 04:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] grrgoyl.livejournal.com
Going back and re-reading it days later I can understand where you'd be underwhelmed, particularly given all my buildup. But believe me, in the context of our relationship this is pretty confrontational. Two hours late wouldn't be a fight, it would be more of the same passive aggression that characterizes almost everything she does. Watch for my next post when I reveal if my outburst made any difference in our next encounter (more buildup!)

It looks really strange. Like, "Have a seat in my waiting room while I cook dinner." Or maybe it's where especially disciplined children are forced to sit while mom is cooking. Who knows rich folk rationale?

Color coded? She'd probably be appalled at our system of just tossing them all in one drawer and grabbing whatever's on top on our way out the door.

I suppose the tramp is kind of dangerous. I'm undecided if it's more or less dangerous than having it six feet in the air though. Leaning marginally towards less.

Shouldn't that be every American's goal in life? Though I'm afraid might be harder to attain with a major in philosophy.

Date: 2011-09-26 05:24 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] kavieshana.livejournal.com
Ohhhh ok. Well then the next step has to be to fight her passive aggression with obviously fake understanding. Show up an hour early, bring a book, and plant yourself on the couch with a big "I don't understand why you're upset with me" smile. This is the way I handle chronically late movie-goers. I hate missing the previews.

Let me break that buildup bubble right now by guessing that it didn't change anything.

She would have been. When I was a kid I refused to leave the house if my socks, underwear, shirt, hairtie, and tube of flavored chapstick didn't all match, and that was her doing. Of course now she's done lost her mind along with her ability to keep a clean house, so she might not care.

I don't know why it is, but I've jumped on both kinds and I find it much harder to avoid hitting the ground than falling into the air.

PS I picked up the package you sent today. Thank you thank you thank you!
I think every American's goal in life is a big tv for watching the football. That's a painful irony, because who would appreciate a reading nook better than a philosophy major?

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