Pick of the Week: 5 Ways to Advertise Your Contracting Business Online

The internet is full of potential for small business owners. There are so many ways to advertise your business, and the vast majority of them are completely free. If you run a contracting […]

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Our New Machine Repair Shop is Open for Business!

We have some exciting news - our new machine repair shop is now up and running! The machine shop was a unique and important feature of our old warehouse, so we're very happy […]

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go for a wander.

While we're busy battling jet lag, missing coffee meetings with friends while we oversleep, and generally bumbling about town with our eyes half-open, here are a few thoughts on traveling-somewhere nearby or far flung-and the art of the embarking on the perfect meander from my friend Tim.

Flâner: Se promener sans but, au hasard, pour le plaisir de regarder.

(To wander aimlessly, randomly, for the pleasure of watching.)

Roughly translated, the French verb flâner is the art of taking a stroll. It means stepping off the path of daily to-dos to walk with no destination in mind, see the world with the eyes of a poet, and notice all the small details.

The flâneurs, as they were known in early 20th-century Paris, were the poets who walked the streets in search of nothing more than the feeling of being alive. Today, a flâneur's goal is much the same. They're not window shoppers or mental list makers. They're not Instagrammers or Tweeters. They are seekers of this current, fleeting moment.

So how does one go about taking a simple saunter? Here are my go-to tips for the embarking on the perfect meander.

Leave the phone at home.

This is the toughest for me. It means no dropping pins for places I want to remember. It means no photos. And perhaps worst of all, it means that I don't get the credit on my little walking app. As I leave my phone on the counter, I have to tell myself that some time apart will probably do us some good (at least one of us) and that my phone should work for me, not me for it. Being phoneless gives me a nowness that I wouldn't have with my phone in hand.

Walk your turtle.

Flâneurs in Paris were once fond of leashing a turtle and letting the turtle set the pace. It slowed them down and served as a reminder to step slow. Don't have a turtle? Not to worry; just remember that this isn't a race to some enlightened finish line. Take time to savor your stroll.

Look for light.

You don't have to fly off to Paris to take beautiful walks. Any given place in the world shares the same ever-changing and ever-beautiful resource, and that's sunlight. Flâneurs are all about the way light shifts, cascades on a wall, or bounces off water. Noon light comes with its heavy shadows, late afternoon light comes with its low beams and softness. Go to some of your favorite spots around your hometown and see how they react with different times of day. (Monet got transfixed by haystacks, for goodness sake, and saw fit to paint them 25 times just to see how they'd look in different light, at different times of year.)

Observe – We're all still really human.

It's easy to gripe about our over-connectivity and obsession with emails and inboxes, but when I'm out for a walk, I see small moments and interactions between families that remind me that life is as it always was, and I'm comforted by that. The mother still fastens the buttons on her child's wool coat. The old man still smokes his pipe. The kids still run for the sake of running. There's a comfort in knowing that this powerful play goes on and that everyone is contributing verses similar to the ones that have always been written.

Schedule it.

My schedule always feels full and finding time to do nothing else other than walk-avoiding the temptation to also pick up the dry cleaning or grab some much needed caffeine-can be difficult. But I find I can still usually carve out an hour in a week for a meander. In fact, to make sure that I do, I've started scheduling my weekly walks right into my calendar.  Sure, they look a little silly written out on my iCal, but I commit to the exercise by reminding myself that time to simply be is a noble pursuit.

Annie Dillard once wrote, “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” I'd like to think that my days aren't always a race toward productivity, that sometimes, life is a turtle-paced walk toward presence.

To flâner with Tim and his wife Laura in Provence this October, check out Moveable Feast Retreats.

Or follow them and say hello on their blog.

The Winning Features of Bostik GreenForce

Bostik GreenForce is one of the best adhesive products on the market. It can be used with virtually any floor and subfloor combination, and it has several features which lend it outstanding durability. […]

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growing a minimalist wardrobe: summer weddings.

In case you needed a reminder about my general philosophy on dressing up: I wore flat oxfords to my wedding. My dress was mostly cotton. Married in my hometown on a neighbor's farm, our wedding wasn't a terribly formal affair but I was assuredly less dressed up than some of the guests. 

Dressing up is hard to do. I've already written a bunch about that here, but that was in a wintry time of year. And now that I'm looking at three different save-the-dates tacked to my refrigerator, I've got warm weather weddings on the brain.

We're used to the cultural expectation that for every bride-to-be there is ONE PERFECT DRESS.* But for the minimalist dress shopper, this same kind of pressure can creep up when we're mere guests. A wedding invitation might spark an existential crisis about why we have yet to find our perfect match, or if we've found it, or whether we've failed at minimalism because we're not sure we can bear to wear the same little black dress to the fifth wedding in a row. Whether for brides or wedding guests, I'm not going to try to suggest that there's ONE PERFECT DRESS out there. I realize this sounds like minimalist wardrobe heresy, but that's a lot of pressure, perfection.

No, I'm not going to suggest that we all go forth and find the great unicorn of dresses that's timeless and beautiful and guaranteed to stay in gorgeous, impeccable condition FOR ALL TIME. A great dress is a great thing to have. When we happen to find the perfect thing for us to wear for a particular moment-or ten particular moments-well, then hallelujah. But sometimes we will find something that's very good for right now and maybe not so much for all time. And you don't know really know whether a dress is for all time until you try it out. None of us can make a full-time job out of hunting for unicorns.

For my own summer wedding guest conundrums, I'm continuing on my personal quest to find a dress or two that feel like me. Tall order. But for me, dressing up often feels like playing dress up. Like I'm walking around in someone else's clothes. Sometimes this feels great: like I'm playing the role of my sexy alter-ego and damn it if I don't look amazing. But often it feels less great: like I'm wearing someone else's clothes and they tug in the wrong places and possibly everyone can see my underwear? 

In case you're on the hunt for something schmancy to wear, here are a few beautiful formal dresses that have caught my eye lately.  They're all fancy-ish things that are also being made thoughtfully. To be sure: they're things that fit my particular definition of pretty and wedding-appropriate. They might not fit yours. Feel free to chime in with suggestions below!

Elizabeth Suzann: The current collection at Elizabeth Suzann is filled with ethereal pieces that might just be the route to finding a formal dress to love. (You might recall it was an Elizabeth Suzann dress that I ended up wearing to my last sartorially stressful event.) Dresses like the Inez Midi in Hemp Twill tow the line between comfortable and dressy and I can see it looking gorgeous at an outdoor summer wedding. And in silk crepe for a fancier evening affair? (And for the betrothed, The White Collection is even better. Please! Someone get married in this skirt!)

Of A Kind: This Pinstripe Picnic Dress by Christine Alcalay for Of A Kind is begging someone to wear it to multiple summer weddings. I love that the cut looks elegant, but that the fabric looks relaxed. Get thee to a farm wedding. (PS. Like everything else at Of A Kind, this dress is made by an indie-designer and part of a limited-edition run made just for Of A Kind.)

Lisa Says Gah: I love poking around this online shop, partially because I too say gah, and partially because everything in stock has been carefully selected from designers who are mindful about ethical production. If you want to make sure no one has the same dress as you, I'd choose the Delfina Balda Flora Dress.

Hackwith Design House: The new Bridal Collection isn't just for brides only; in addition to cream and white, most of the pieces in the collection come in black, a pale pink called blush, and a lovely green called sage. I love the Hallie Pant paired with the Emmy Top. Fancy-casual, I say.

Reformation: These guys have lots of fancy-dancy things for wearing to a wedding. For formal evening occasions, when the words black and tie get put together, I'd probably head here. I've got my eye on the Francesca Dress for the next time I need to dress like royalty.

And if none of these specifics works, here are two more ideas, stolen right out from under friends who are maybe smarter than I am:

+ Get a personal shopper. It sounds far-fetched. Or uber-fancy. Who do you think you are, anyway? But there's a case to be made for some good old-fashioned in-the-fitting-room shopping. And working with a personal shopper can make the experience feel luxurious and…easy! Lots of major department stores offer the service, so ask around. To be sure: you're letting go of a bit of control, but I know someone who did this recently and the results were ah-mazing. As someone who hated shopping, this friend felt particularly daunted by shopping for formalwear. But she was able to relay her budget, her general style, and a sense of what she wanted, and the on-staff personal shopper returned with a selection of ten dresses to choose from that fit the bill. My friend ended up leaving with everything that she needed for a complete outfit: dress, shoes, scarf, bag…earrings. I know. (And she's worn the entire outfit to three different weddings so far.)

+ Rent, borrow, beg. Another friend recently used fancy-dress rental service, Rent the Runway to huge success. She was able to find a gorgeous designer dress to wear to a black-tie event. Sure: she had to pony up cash for something she had to return just a few days later, but it allowed her to wear a truly lovely dress and to feel like a queen for an evening for the same amount she might have spent on a less-nice dress that she wasn't sure she'd have the opportunity to wear again.

(If renting isn't in the cards, old-fashioned borrowing has served me more times than I can count. Whether it's the dress itself, or the strapless bra you need to wear with it, or the perfect necklace for the neckline of the dress you just found, borrowing your friends' best stuff is maybe the best and the very oldest trick in the book. I wish we all dipped into each other's formal wardrobes more often. Return it clean and loan something of yours next time around and I say, deal done.)

*If you're into this sort of thing, I read One Perfect Day a few years before I got married and I recommend it to anyone interested in taking a slightly less conventional approach to wedding planning. The chapter on the wedding dress industry convinced me to get my dress made by a local dressmaker. 

It's Been a Year Since the Fire. Here's How Far We've Come.

It's been one year since a fire burned down the Philadelphia Floor Store warehouse. Our team wants to take one more opportunity to reflect on the dynamic year of change we have had.  […]

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learning to watercolor with skillshare.

This post is sponsored by Skillshare, an online learning community for creative skills.

If you'd asked me six months ago whether I'd ever take a watercolor class online, I would have said no. Or at least I would have hesitated. That'd be like watching paint dry, I would have said. Welp. I'm glad you didn't ask me, because I would have had to eat my words. I've been using Skillshare for the past few weeks and turns out, watching paint dry is super interesting.

I mentioned in my last newsletter that I've been hunting for a little watercolor set. I've liked the idea of using our trip to France as an opportunity to do a little something creative. I haven't used watercolors since I was in elementary school, but I was planning to wing it; to get myself a few tubes of watercolors, and some brushes, and to maybe pick up a pad of watercolor paper once I arrived.

But when Skillshare reached out asking if I wanted to give their classes a try, I leapt at the chance to take a little bit of direction from someone else. And I'm so terribly pleased that I did. (Psst: They're spreading the love by offering RMTL readers three months of Skillshare Premium for only $0.99 (redeem here;more details below!))
For the unfamiliar, Skillshare is an online community for learning creative skills. For a monthly fee of $10, users have access to thousands of classes taught by experts in their fields. Topics covered range from design to business, to photography, tech, crafts, film, writing…phew. If you need help brewing the perfect cup of coffee, Skillshare has your back.

For my part: I went hunting for watercolor classes. 

I think the part about Skillshare that I most appreciate is that I can dabble. It's so freeing! I can pick and choose what's useful from a whole bunch of different classes. Classes tend to be about an hour long, but they're broken up into digestible shorter videos, which makes hopping around even easier. 

For instance, before I began, I watched the supplies lessons from a few different classes to get ideas about what tools I'd need to get started (and then spent a happy hour poking around East Village art supply stores looking for the goods). I wouldn't have bought a waterbrush or the kind of paints that I ended up with if I hadn't had the chance to hear from a bunch of different water colorists about their favorite supplies.

Once I had my materials gathered, I continued my dabbling.

In a class called Modern Watercolor Techniques: Beginner's Level, for instance, I especially loved the lesson on transparencies and creating different color values from the same single paint color. I watched that particular lesson a few times and recreated my own transparency chart in my notebook.

The class Basic Watercolors: Learn Painting with Paper Fashion focuses on fashion watercolors, which isn't precisely my thing, but I found the supplies lesson and the color mixing lesson to be super valuable and felt encouraged to spend some time just getting to know my colors and how they worked together.

It was especially neat for me to see how different teachers approached the same concepts-like making a color chart. And I was able to feel confident to make own chart based on a few different suggestions. 

If you prefer sitting very much in your seat, and sticking to one class, you can do that, too. Lots of classes come with assignments and opportunities to upload student work so you can see how the whole class unfolds.

Maybe best of all, as I gain confidence in my (extremely rudimentary) watercolor skills, it'll be so nice to have this catalog of classes to return to. If I forget something, or need a refresher, I can replay just one section of a class that I especially loved. (Not to mention, access to the whole range of classes gives me the chance to learn other skills, like, say, improving my wine-tasting game.)

If watercoloring isn't something you're into, but you're still looking for a travel-ready hobby, the class Travel Photography: Seeing, Shooting, and Editing might be the perfect primer. Or if you're feeling generally itchy for a bit of on-the-go creativity, you could take a look at Travel the World: Reinvigorate Your Creativity On the Road.

Whatever the specific skills are that you're looking to hone, if you're interested in giving Skillshare a shot, they're currently offering a 3-month subscription for just $0.99. Use the code RMTL to give it a try! Offer expires 11/17/2016

This post was sponsored by Skillshare. Thanks so much for supporting the brands that support Reading My Tea Leaves.

rhubarb lilac spritzer.

I won't forget the first time that I was in France as a young teenager and I witnessed kids my age pouring mint syrup into flat tap water at a sidewalk café. The result was green water the color of a gemstone. The taste like mouthwash minus the alcohol. The entire ritual was baffling to this American girl.

I'm still not the world's biggest fan of syrups added to flat water, but when there's a little sparkle-some bubbles for all of that flavor to bounce around in-I'm sold. Enter the spritzer.

The most delightful springtime spritzers have started to appear on menus across the city in the past few weeks and I couldn't be more delighted. Pleased as punch. I've seen rosewater spritzers, rhubarb and rosewater spritzers. I'm already imagining strawberry and basil spritzers. Sour cherry spritzers? Yes, please. If you ask me, nothing makes a gathering-or an ordinary Saturday afternoon-festive like a the addition of a syrup or two to add to sparkly things.

Last week, I made a variation on the theme, but instead of rosewater, I used edible flowers that are in season: my beloved lilacs.

Lilac season is so fleeting, it makes me want to gobble the blossoms whole to avoid missing out. And so. I scoped a bunch of lilacs at the market on Saturday, double-checking with the farmer that the little beauties were safe for eating. Finding that they were, I hunted for the most fragrant bunch in the bucket and came home with an armload of purple blossoms and a few stalks of rhubarb.

Rhubarb sliced into small pieces.

I followed the same basic recipe that I used to make my rhubarb syrup last May: about 1.5 cups of rhubarb (my stalks were significantly longer this go-round and I only used 4), a cup of water, and a cup sugar. This time I added a large handful of lilac blossoms to the mix and a few peels of lemon rind to keep things interesting.

The result is the same super vibrant syrup that turns into the perfect shade of light pink when it gets poured into water with ice. 

Rhubarb and lilac flowers.

The lilac fragrance is subtle enough to be enjoyable-too much and I fear it would be called soapy. With a few lilac blossoms sprinkled onto the top as garnish, the heady floral scent gets you right where you want it, in the nose. And besides, who can resist a flowery flourish?

Rhubarb and Lilac Syrup

Here's what you need:

1.5 cups rhubarb, washed and sliced
1 cup granulated cane sugar
1 cup water
1 large handful of lilac blossoms removed from the stem
2 small segments of lemon peel, taking care not to include too much pith.

Here's what to do:

Combine sugar, water, rhubarb, lilac and lemon peel into a heavy bottomed saucepan. Bring to a boil and then reduce heat and simmer until the fruit has broken down completely and the color from the stalks has leached into the syrup. (This takes about twenty minutes. Depending on the color of your stalks the syrup will range from light pink to a deeper magenta.) Strain your mixture over a fine mesh sieve. I used cheesecloth this time, but it's not strictly necessary. Whatever you don't gulp straightaway, you can pour into a clean jar and keep refrigerated. It'll last a very long time in the fridge, but not if I get to it first.

Very roughly measured ingredients.

Lilac blossoms removed from the stem and leaves.

Rhubarb, lilacs, and granulated sugar.

Plus a few lemon rinds for good measure.

Straining the rhubarb.

Rhubarb and lilac syrup, strained.

Rhubarb and Lilac Spritzer.

If not in sparkling water, the syrup would be just right in a summery gin cocktail or a cold glass of lemonade. It would be just right drizzled over vanilla ice cream. You wouldn't be wrong to use it to drench a slice of pound cake or a bowl of strawberries. 

baby proof: bedtime stories lately.

I've gone to the dark side and am now the owner of an e-book reader. (James gave me a Kindle for Mother's Day. I had no idea that Mother's Day is the new birthday, either. Bar just raised unreasonably high for Father's Day.) Anyway. I've since queued up more Brooklyn Public Library books than I can probably read and I'm terribly pleased about the whole neat package.  

Rest assured that I've not given up on books bound and printed. It's just that the personal library that I'm expanding these days is most often filled with books of the illustrated variety. I can hardly walk by the bookstores in our neighborhood without stopping in. And I rarely leave empty handed. Here's to maximalist children's book collections.
Since it's been a while since I last wrote about our favorite children's books and since there's nothing I enjoy reading more than a list of what other people are reading, I thought a little update might be in order. All of our original favorites are still going strong, but we've added some books that are brand-spanking new and a few that are older than the hills but new to us and we love them all. 

Most of the books feature little girls and children of color because goodness knows we need to see more children's books with all kinds of humans.

Herewith, a few favorites:

Last Stop on Market Street (Amazon/Indiebound)
This total delight tells the story of a little boy's bus ride to a soup kitchen with his grandmother. The prose is sweet and poetic and the portrayal of city life and general good cheer is refreshing and inspiring.

There is a Tribe of Kids (Amazon/Indiebound)
I can't get enough of the beautiful watercolors in this brand new book. So many cute kiddos, so many cute animals. Faye is totally smitten with this simple and sweet book.

This is Sadie (Amazon/Indiebound)
This is one of my very favorites. The illustrations are just beautiful and the story celebrates imagination and resourcefulness.

The Bear and the Piano (Amazon/Indiebound)
I don't always go in for the anthropomorphized animals in children's books, but this piano-playing bear kind of got me. Plus I get a good chuckle from the illustrations which seem to indicate that Brooklyn is a forest just across the river from the bright lights of Manhattan. 

Blueberries for Sal (Amazon/Indiebound)
The original children's book to showcase a little girl who isn't all princessed out. I love little Sal and baby bear and all those kuplunking blueberries. The prose is old-fashioned, and the story a bit repetitive, but that's probably why I love this classic. 

If You Ever Want to Bring a Piano to the Beach, Don't (Amazon/Indiebound)
I don't really know. Faye loves to imitate the faces made by the plucky main character in this story and I love watching her do it. Silly and funny and with a final message that encourages kids to make creative use of the things around them. 

Madeline (Amazon/Indiebound)
The rhyming. Can't get enough of the rhyming. The other day we walked up the stairs to our apartment reciting the book from memory with Faye filling in the blanks. To the tiger in the zoo, Madeline just said…pooh-pooh! 

Sidewalk Flowers (Amazon/Indiebound)
This wordless story is a favorite around here. We mostly scan each page intently for signs of doggies or squirrels. I love the cityscapes in this book and of course the notion of walking around town making tiny bouquets from sidewalk flowers has me all kinds of happy.

What about you guys? Favorites of the moment or all time? Share!

More about my general thoughts about bedtime reading and an initial list of favorites, right here.

For the curious: Faye's polka-dotty pajamas.

a summery giveaway from bridge & burn.

This giveaway is sponsored by Bridge & Burn, makers of classic and understated apparel for men and women.

I've got a running list of things I'm planning to pack for our stay in France. It's mostly in my head. It changes every day or so and depending on the last time I checked the weather report.

I'm thinking I'll follow my typical rule of thumb, which is to pack layers and as though we're embarking on a week-long stay. We'll be able to do laundry at my aunt and uncle's once we've settled and I'm never afraid of wearing the same favorites over and over again, anyway. Still, it helps to be a little strategic. Choosing a dress or two that I know I'll be able to wear over and over again without getting bored or otherwise bothered feels essential.



One item on my list is the linen Fleer dress from Bridge & Burn.

The Fleer in Black Linen is an update to the original cotton Fleer dress-one of the very first things I ever ordered from the company. Like most everything from Bridge & Burn, it's an extremely versatile dress in a classic, youthful silhouette. Made from a combination of linen, cotton, and a bit of spandex, it's comfortable and feels durable to withstand a month of frequent wears. With sneaks, it's perfect for spending the day sightseeing. With a pair of sandals and a sweater, it's the perfect thing to wear to dinner out. With a blouse layered over top, it becomes a snappy skirt. In other words: it's a traveler's dream come true.

If you're on the hunt for a sundress-or any thing at all-to add to your summer wardrobe, the new Pacific Latitudes collection at Bridge & Burn is filled with summery prints in warm-weather fabrics like cotton and linen. As always the designs fit into Bridge & Burn's signature blend of “functionality, comfort and unexpected detailing.” Bridge & Burn clothes are designed in Portland, Oregon and manufactured both in the US and abroad. You can read more about their manufacturing ethos in this post. (And in response to the frequent questions I get about where James does his shopping; he's had some really nice luck in the men's section!)

This week, Bridge & Burn is offering Reading My Tea Leaves readers the chance to win a $300 gift certificate to spend as your heart desires in their shop. To enter the giveaway, fill out the form below. The giveaway closes on Wednesday, May 18, 2016. A winner will be contacted directly. Apologies to international readers; this giveaway is open to readers in the US only.

This post was sponsored by Bridge and Burn. All opinions are my own. Thanks for supporting the brands that support Reading My Tea Leaves. 

3M Tape: The Industry Standard

3M tape is the industry standard - and for good reason. It's built to be strong in even the toughest conditions. Plus, 3M offers different kinds of tape for different situations, making things […]

The post 3M Tape: The Industry Standard appeared first on City Floor Supply Blog.

make-believe: paris morning.

 

We're checking the days off the calendar and somehow it's feeling more and more unreal that we're bound for France in just two weeks. (Ack!) We'll be staying a few nights in Paris when we first land and so my Parisian daydreams are beginning in earnest. Of course in these dreams there's no jet-lag and no agenda; just a fluffy bed, breakfast in bed, and a morning to while away.

Here's what else:

These pajamas (top and bottom) for elegance and coziness.

A chic French press for brewing the café to my au lait.

The perfect bowl for sipping it out of.

A tray sturdy enough to withstand the weight of…

a dozen croissants (the crumblier, the better). 

A guidebook to the City of Lights.

The perfect pillow-y throw for snuggling under as we plan our day.

A bath soak for once I finally wrest myself out of bed.

Sounds like a plan, non?

doing it yourself.

I'm an irresponsible DIYer.

No.

I'm a foolhardy DIYer.

No.

I'm a happy-go-lucky DIYer.

Yes. That's it. 

When I notice that something needs fixing, I like to try to tackle it myself. And I'm usually pleased with result by sheer fact that I'm the one who did it. I can forgive all manner of sins if I'm the one who's committed them. 

On my blog I tend to write a fair bit about solutions because I like to find solutions. I like to put in a bit of elbow grease, to muster a degree of sticktoitiveness, to do a bit of puzzling. But the solutions I find are almost never perfect. They're usually scrappy. There are unhemmed curtains hanging in my windows and crooked hardware on my dressers. There's a headboard that's propped against the wall, not secured to a bed frame because it's an antique and handmade, and the proportions don't line up perfectly with a modern Queen-sized bed. There's a rag rug in Faye's room with bits of broken rag and a sheepie thrown on top to hide them. When we bought the rug it smelled like forty-five dogs had been lounging on it for the past twenty years. We had to wash it twice to get it back to useable. The quick paint job I did on my bedside table eight years ago is chipping and repair job I made once to the small drawer is due for another look. The neatly organized spices in my kitchen still tumble when I'm pulling out the ingredients for a pot of chili.

I get a lot of questions from readers asking how I've gotten something to work just right. On Instagram, or in the comments in this space, or directly into my email inbox, readers write wanting to know how I've managed to get something to work. I always want to offer encouragement. And often there's a trick or a solution that's worth sharing. But I think my most helpful answer might be that I mostly get things to work by embracing imperfection.

How do I keep my straw market basket clean? An occasional wipe with a warm rag and a blind eye to the more general daily dirt. How do I keep my white bedsheets white? An occasional hopeful wash with an oxygen booster and a blind eye toward the evolving color. How do I keep my daughter from climbing out of her wooden high chair? Daily encouragement to stay seated and resignation that's she's a determined little monkey.

I'm not critiquing a desire to get things right, I'm just saying that there's a different approach that can work as well. 

The approach that encourages charging forth semi-recklessly. To give something a try even if you're not sure that results are going to be perfect. To ask for help when you need it and when you can find it, and to trust your own ability to give something a go when that's the only recourse.

Some of my earliest childhood memories involve my parents fixing things. When I was very small, my parents still owned the three-family house I was born in and even though we lived elsewhere, we'd spend afternoons there while my parents made little repairs for tenants. My sister Cait and I would steal away to the home of the elderly sisters who lived next door in search of treats. Or we'd fill up a plastic kiddy pool and sit mesmerized by Kelly and Megan, the big girls who were neighbors on the other side. My mom and dad would come in and out of the house, toting tools and vacuum cleaners and tubes of caulk as they patched and painted and did whatever else was required of them. When I was seven, we moved to the house that my parents still live in. They've spent the past 25 years making improvements to that place. 

Still, when I go home to my parents' house, my dad always has some little fix to show me. He'll lead me to the basement stairs and swing open the door. 

“Remember how that used to stick?”

Dramatic opening and closing of the door. Flourish of the hand. Mouth agape and eyebrows raised waiting for my approval.

This cycle of problem and solution and flourish of the hand to showcase the end result has been repeated over and over and over again. Even in cases when the end result is not 100% polished. There have been other lessons that my parents offered along the way, but it's cheer in the face of a fix that's still a little wonky that stays with me more than any other.

These photos are of the recent project that I embarked on to fix the set of four chairs that James and I bought for our very first apartment. This isn't a tutorial because I'm not convinced many of you might have the need for a tutorial on how to add leather seats onto old wooden chairs with caved in seats, and because I'm not convinced that the method that I used is one hundred percent the right one. But to me, it's perfect.

Before I began the project, I removed the broken pressed fiberboard from the old caned seats and emailed a few leather-working friends (Alice and Lissa and Abby) to get their advice on replacing the seats with leather hides. Their counsel was invaluable and I ended up taking Abby up on her offer to cut and finish the seats for me. I sent her a tracing by post. She sent me photos of the hide she might use by email. I gave her enthusiastic virtual thumbs up. I paid her to cut and finish the seats in her studio in Oregon where there was space and tools and patience to get them right. I put them into place in their new home in Brooklyn where there was some space and a few tools and where I eked out the required patience.

I rigged a support system with jute webbing and a borrowed staple gun. For every successful staple I put in, I pulled out a wrinkled one. I made a return trip to the upholstery shop on Orchard Street for more upholstery tacks when I realized I'd need more of them to get the seats to sit flush to the chair. I smashed my thumb with a mercifully cloth-covered hammer. I ended up with a wrinkle here or there. I have no idea how the things might age. 

In the end I have four new seats on four old chairs. No one's fallen through them yet and they have just the simple, homespun look that I was hoping for.

Because they are simple. And homespun. And just a little bit wonky.

baby proof: win some, lose some.

I recently posted a photograph to Instagram and inadvertently shared the fact that Faye's now sleeping in a toddler bed. I hadn't really meant to share the milestone (as people say in babyland), but we'd made a fort, and she was mouse-ing it up in there and sometimes you just have to pause and snap a photo of your kid's toes under an enormous book. Nothing's as cute as toddler toes. Especially under picture books. Especially in a fort. 

A few internet pals asked me how the new bed arrangement was going and being in a peppy mood, I wrote back that it was going great! “Pretty seamless” were the words I used. And at that moment, that was very true. At 1:00 in the morning on the very same night, that was not true. We awoke to a little whimper and found that the tiny mouse had tumbled from her bed. Inconsolable (though utterly unharmed) she came into bed with us. Minutes after that she peed in said bed.  

All of this to say that I've taken to muttering the mantra win some, lose some under my breath and I find it to be very helpful. 

In my experience of parenthood, these things have been consistently true: 1) Nothing changes completely overnight. 2) Nothing stays the same for very long. 3) Everything takes more patience than you think it might but usually it's patience you manage to find. 4) Keep chugging along for long enough and you'll eventually get to pat yourself on the back for having a tiny human who's taken to sleeping, or eating, or peeing in a pot. 

A lot of you guys have been asking about potty training. I feel like I might die of boredom if I go into full detail our “process.” Also, gag. But here are some bullet points that might be helpful. 

+ We took the cold turkey/never look back approach. At 22 months or so, we stopped using diapers and presented undies full-time. Even at night. Even in public. Diapers be gone, etc. (Maybe valuable to add: Since infancy there's been a ton of diaper-free time around our house and for a few months before cold-turkeying we'd kind of passively encourage at-home potty use whenever the mood struck. Let's say we were all already well-acquainted with pee on the floor.) We stayed close to home for the first week or so. We survived. 

+ This week's little snafu notwithstanding, nights were absolutely easiest for us. After a few first wet nights, we've had mostly dry nights since after the first week.

+ To try to mitigate those early middle-of-the-night clean-ups without a washing machine, we used a few of these pads in the very beginning. Sometimes they were great. Sometimes they were useless.

+ We've still somehow managed to seriously up our time spent at the laundromat. For those of you who are in the possession of a washer and dryer, caress it for me. Also: send more quarters.

+ We've used these very terrific cloth training underwear with a little extra cushion for catching pees. We have a whopping 18 pairs. It sounds excessive, but we've found the number to be just right. We still do a lot of hand washing in the sink. (Maybe I can justify this lil' cutie?)

+ We bought this toilet seat to replace our regular toilet seat. It comes with a little built-in seat for mini bums and a slow-close lid to keep tiny fingers safe. It's extremely handy and unobtrusive. (Hell, it's wooden and a huge upgrade from the plastic lid we had before.)

+ We've also used a borrowed pint-sized-potty, which is very nice to have. Ours is a handmade little number that's honestly a little cumbersome for a wee pee(er), but I'm too stubborn to upgrade, so no specific recommendations on that front. Feel free to chime in if you've had success with any one in particular.

+ After a mildly mortifying incident at MoMA, we often double-up on undies when we go out to make any potential accident less…dramatic. They're less frequent these days, but they definitely happen. We carry backup undies, pants, and a dry bag with us, just in case. Also: waterproof shoes have not been unwelcome.

+ We use public restrooms when we must and we pop squats on curbs and side streets when we can. If it's a spot a dog could go without damaging precious city flora, I say one-hundo percent fair game. 

+ We've come realize that a potty training kid is just going to love on her potty. She's going to dip her hands in the toilet water. She's going to pick up her own poop at least once. She's going to gleefully clamp both hands onto the edge of a public toilet and exclaim, “Potty!” Wash hands; move right along.

+ We sing lots of songs about pee. We do dances about pee. We are generally just very enthusiastic about pee and poop at all times. Especially when they land in the potty.

+ It's been very nice to have an extremely on-board babysitter to help with the process while we're not home. (She's potty trained about one million kids by my last count and she's even written her own handy and hysterical guide to the art.)

+ As for age, or readiness, or length of time this is all going to take, I don't have any particular wisdom or knowledge. I know that toddlers are extremely aware of their surroundings and probably deserve more credit than they get. I think a lot of early diaper-free time helps a kid grasp the concept of what's happening with their bodies and makes the leap to no diapers a lot easier. (Please note: I have not conducted a scientific study on this matter.) I don't think you will permanently scar your child by teaching them how to pee in the potty at whatever age feels right for your family. I know we have many fewer accidents than we did a month ago. I know we'll still probably have occasional accidents months from now.

Lose some, win more.

make your own pickled radishes.

I'm not ashamed to admit that there are foods I eat mostly because they're pretty. This time of year, those foods are called radishes. Red radishes, watermelon radishes, Easter egg radishes in shades of pastel; they all get my heart eyes. I've taken about a million photographs of them to prove my to point to you with this post. (Please enjoy.)

It's not that I don't appreciate the peppery bite of a springtime radish. (Give me a bit of salty butter and a drizzle of honey to complement it and layer the whole deal onto a slice of fresh bread and I'll be very happy.) But I appreciate the stark white flesh and bright red skin of a radish even more than the taste. A few thinly sliced radishes on top of a bed of arugula or pea shoots? A taco with a radish confetti dotting the top? A cheese plate with a freshly washed bunch of radishes perched on the edge? Radishes in dainty tea sandwiches? So dang pretty.

But here's the problem: I have a tendency to let a half-bunch of radishes languish in the fridge. I get gung-ho about how beautiful my weekend salad looks with radishes strewn on top, but before I know it it's midweek and we're rushing to get anything on the table. No one's concerned about garnishes.

But a jar of pickled radishes? Now we've taken the pretty factor, upped the taste factor, and prolonged the shelf life a bit and it's a whole new ballgame. For me, the addition of vinegar and spices + heat + time takes the radish from being pleasant enough to straight-up addictive.  

Radishes, washed.

Radishes, sliced.

More radishes, sliced.

Vinegar and spices, ready to boil. 

Vinegar, ready to pour.

Like most quick pickles, the process is simple. No need to devote an afternoon to canning in the kitchen. You can pickle these babies in a few minutes and have them stealing the show by dinnertime. This recipe is a variation on just about every quick pickle recipe out there. Specifically, I consulted the Sunday Suppers' pickled red onion recipe for vinegar ratio encouragement and then adjusted the seasonings to taste.

Pickled Radishes

Here's what you need:

A bunch of radishes (any sort'll do)
1.5 cups white vinegar
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons sugar (or honey!)
Spices (I used fennel, coriander, and black pepper)

Here's what to do:

1. Scrub your radishes and thinly slice them into even rounds. If you're very fancy and have a mandoline, now is the time to put her to use. Otherwise, flex your knife skills and don't worry too much if some slices are a little wonky. (Some folks like a thick radish pickle and choose to quarter their little gem babies. I prefer a nice round slice.)

2. In a small non-reactive saucepan, bring vinegar, sugar (or honey), salt, and  your choice of spices to a boil. For spices, I used fennel, coriander, and black pepper-just a little pinch or so of each for a small jar. Experiment! Once the sugar and salt have dissolved, remove the vinegar from the heat.

3. While the vinegar cools, pack a clean jar with sliced radishes. If you want to add a fresh pepper to the jar for some heat, a few springs of dill, or a clove or four of garlic, now's your chance.

4. Pour the cooled vinegar mixture (spices included) over your radishes. Seal up the jar and pop 'er in the fridge. Ideally, let the mixture gel for a day to really infuse those radishes with some tangy goodness. But don't fret if you're in a rush. The other night I put together a jar (didn't even bother heating the vinegar, hey!) in the 15 minutes before dinner was served and the results were still super satisfying. The radishes should stay fresh in the fridge for a few weeks.

Note: Radishes are pungent little guys. The odor when you open your jar will smack you a little hard in the nose, but power through and taste those babies. So good. Also! Your pickles will turn totally pink as they sit in the brine. Pink!

For the curious: my little enamelware pot.

Now your turn: favorite pretty thing to eat?