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Posts Tagged ‘home’

Several years ago, my grandmother gave me an old rocking chair that I kept meaning to have re-caned. Last year, I decided that it did not go with any part of my decor. Neither was it very smart furniture to have around our two long-tailed tabby cats, constantly underfoot and underchair.

Turns out that my mom thought she should have had first dibs on the chair anyway. Done deal, right?

Wrong. Yang, the larger of the underfoot tabbies, claimed the chair as his own not two weeks after Mom claimed it as her own. Cushioned with a Mom-made afghan and a blanket, it’s one of his favorite nesting spots.

So, the chair complements nothing, needs refinishing, and technically belongs to my mom. It stays, of course, because a 13-year-old, 12-pound cat likes to nap in it.

Welcome to the Crow Haggerty House of Cats. We’re all mad here.

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Buying cookware is the final stage of entry to adulthood, right?

I am SO there.

I’ve been using the cookware pictured here for about 16 years. Liberated from the home of my dearly departed paternal grandmother, it’s likely older than I am. Wear and tear wasn’t really a problem, however, since she hardly ever cooked much more than a can of chicken noodle soup.

It was some kind of enamelware, with hints of an Australian origin. I was always sort of vaguely aware that I should buy something “real,” since who knows what that stuff was coated with.

One of the larger pots developed a small dark spot on the bottom in the late ’90s. While boiling water one day, I watched the spot rise to the surface, followed by a powdery, brownish red cloud. It seemed to have rusted through from the inside out.

Other than that incident, it was incredibly durable. The only reason I had to get rid of it was because of another very grownup purchase my husband and I made recently: a new stove.

It’s a stainless steel model with a ceramic cooktop that, in theory, will make the kitchen sleek and sporty once we’ve replaced everything else that makes the kitchen non-sleek and frumpy.

The only caveat: The safest way to use the ceramic cooktop is not to use it at all.

It is the drama queen of cooking surfaces. No enamel. No cast iron. No aluminum. Only the flattest of flat-bottomed cookware will do. No hint of moisture on the outside of the vessel. If you spill anything with sugar in it on the cooktop, immediately turn the stove off, call a priest and get him to pray that you can remove the spill before it makes a pit on the surface.

I kid. Sort of. It’s actually a really reliable cooktop, once you get used to it, and the oven is the most accurate model I’ve ever used. And it does make one end of the kitchen look very sporty.

I think I’m even burning extra calories, because cooking without the fear of instantaneously destroying your cooktop doesn’t produce any adrenaline at all.

It might all be hype. Several people have told me that they use anything and everything on their ceramic cooktops. But older enamelware seems to be a consistent no-no – the surface coating has every possibility of actually melting onto the cooktop.

So we bought a set of stainless steel, the only “sure thing” to use. I was pleasantly surprised by the price; my husband found a five-piece set of Tramontina, recommended by Cook’s Illustrated, for around $150 at Wal-Mart, a real bargain compared to most of the luxury brands.

I’ve got no complaints about it. Best of all, some lucky thrift-store scavenger is going to get a few more years of use out of my grandmotherly enamelware. Just beware the small dark spot on the bottom.

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When they were younger, Yin and Yang used to curl up and sleep together almost every day. They’ve spent the past few years carving up territory and sleeping in separate rooms, however.

This photo was taken recently during a particularly busy weekend of what we’ve come to call “It’s on.” A fight in the morning, a fight in the afternoon, and maybe a bonus fight at 10 p.m. I guess when they fight that much, they’re just too exhausted to find separate sleeping quarters.

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Just another Monday night at the Haggerty compound: two 13-year-old cats (brothers) posturing for domination of a towel-filled basket. Shot with the iPhone and stylized using the Hotmix filter on Vihgo.

(No cats were harmed during the making of this photo. Even as the basket kingdom was taken by threat, an under-the-bed kingdom was being formed.)

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You’re the manager of a big-box home improvement store and the economy’s hit bottom. Do you cut employee hours across the board, so much so that potential customers can find no one to take their money?

It looks like you do.

I spent 20 minutes in the appliances section of a huge home improvement store yesterday, waiting with another lady who kept pressing the “please come sell me something” button to no avail. I had the exact make and model of the appliance I wanted in hand, on a printout given to me a few weeks earlier by one of the store’s employees. All I needed was for someone to order the appliance and charge a large amount of money to my credit card.

But no. The section of the store in which NOTHING is priced UNDER $500 and most everything is priced OVER $1200 was completely unstaffed on a Sunday afternoon.

What’s funny is that the OTHER big-box home improvement store had already pulled a similar stunt with me and my remodeling dollars several weeks before.

I’m not begging anybody to take my money. If showing up is half the battle, you guys LOSE.

What a boon for the local mom-and-pop stores that have survived the competition. I bet bad customer service experiences get more people through their doors than anything else.

Every appliance in my kitchen is going to have to be replaced in the next couple of years. It’s very handy to have a list of the stores that don’t really want to sell me anything.

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Last week, I wanted beignets. More than that, I wanted to sit at the Cafe Du Monde with friends at 1 a.m., drinking coffee and chicory and listening to street musicians. I wanted to try to convince my husband that I really did need a tattoo, and have him remind me that I only say that after I’ve had too many hurricanes. (For better or worse, BTW, too much alcohol for me involves not that much alcohol at all.)

I spent approximately 25 years of my life within a couple of hours of New Orleans. Now the Crescent City is an entire day’s drive away, so spur-of-the-moment trips just aren’t happening anymore.

But I did find beignets. A Huntsville friend was kind enough to introduce me to the Coffee Tree Books & Brew, located at 7900 Bailey Cove Road. Every Saturday morning, they serve beignets until they run out – and they DO run out. And I’m talking authentic beignets, perfect in size and shape and coated in about three times as much powdered sugar as necessary.

Honestly, I had worried that I was dragging my husband out of the house before noon on a Saturday for a big plate of disappointment. Right after we moved up here almost three years ago, a seafood chain claimed to be serving real New Orleans-style beignets. And they may have been delicious if they hadn’t been coated with caramel-flavored syrup.

Powdered sugar AND syrup? That’s IHOP, not dessert.

The Coffee Tree did not disappoint, however. As a bonus, my friend knew the proprietors and had told them we were coming in just for the beignets, so they were extra eager to see how we liked them. That said, they seemed eager to be sure that ALL their customers were happy.

The used bookstore attached to the cafe area is lagniappe.

No chicory, no street musicians, but I persevered.

Good coffee, good conversation, and good beignets – really, other than that elusive tattoo, what more could a girl want?

UPDATE: I’m told that there IS chicory available if you ask. This just gets better and better

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I’ve toured a couple dozen brand new bathrooms over the past couple of weeks. The Huntsville/Madison County Builders Association’s Parade of Homes gives renovating rubberneckers carte blanche to take a look at the latest and greatest in home design and decor, without that awkward “We’re not really looking to buy a house” moment that invariably occurs during the average Sunday open house.

I currently have a deconstructed master bathroom awaiting further action, so I need inspiration. If only beige inspired me, I’d be in business.

tile4

The color: Every Bathroom in Town Beige. Nice tiles, and excellent installation, but so incredibly beige.

There seems to be an “offend no one” movement in the home decor business, with beige being the No. 1 non-offending element. I’ve never purchased a brand new house, so I’ve never had the opportunity to turn up my nose at walls that are just the wrong hue of olive, or kitchen cabinets that are too shiny. With any house over, say, 10 years old, you’re pretty sure you’re going to be redecorating anyway.

Which brings me to the tile dilemma.

I like color. Lots and lots of color. Tile is reasonably permanent – it’s not like paint, which can and should be changed on a whim. So I stand the chance of picking out something that will offend the delicate sensibilities of some beige-loving potential buyer down the road.

But in the end, how much of my decor should be dictated by some imaginary future buyer, especially when I have no idea how long I’ll be living in this house? Do I have to live with beige because it’ll make it easy to sell the house in three years? Five? Ten?

I’m looking at glass tiles now. They shimmer in the light, and the color spectrum is endless. I found two bathrooms on the tour that featured some fantastic examples of glass tile use.

tile 2

Still working the beige tiles, but a glass-tile design in the middle really gives it some flair.

tile1

These blue circular tiles are more vibrant than they appear in this photograph.

There are plumbing and window-installation problems to be solved before I have to worry about the final tile decision, so I have plenty of time to stew over it. It’s going to be one heck of a shower when it’s all done, whatever the final color scheme turns out to be.

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plumbingIt’s just not proper homeownership without holes in the floor and exposed plumbing.

Like zombies, renovation projects take on a life of their own.

Window leak + crappy bathtub = tear out the tub to fix leak. We were going to replace it anyway.

Ah, but the floor tiles should go down first to line up properly with the base of the new supershower. And if we’re picking out tile for the floor AND the shower, shouldn’t we be thinking about what the new countertop is going to be made of? And if we’re getting new countertops, we’ll have to have the cabinets refinished.

What? We’re not sure we have cabinet refinishing in the budget anymore?

HGTV, you magnificent bastard. We’re going to have a proper chat one day.

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bricks

So what the real estate agent doesn’t point out when you’re buying a two-story house is the blatantly obvious: The second story is awfully far from the ground. Far as in go buy a 32-foot ladder far.

Luckily, the husband and I aren’t afraid of heights (these kind of heights, anyway), so we were able to caulk a leaky bathroom window this weekend. Tragically, it doesn’t seem to have been the leak we were looking for. To find that one, it looks like we’ll have to remove the bathtub from the master bath a few months earlier than planned.

The American Dream: It involves more drywall dust, cursing and soldering than you think.

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cuffs

Wow, Target. I’ve never seen broken handcuffs littering the ground before, and I’ve been to Mardi Gras A LOT.

I can only hope some poor guy escaped before he was forced to look at shower accessories.

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