In which the author tells you how to run your life -- or at least how to make the most of the fun parts of it.

For instance, inside these pages you will learn how to weather a mortar attack in good spirits; how to avoid booking yourself on the Internet into a bed and breakfast full of twee quilts and dusty tchotkes; and how to plan a dinner party that will stun your guests with deliciousness and style and not destroy your will to live with the amount of work you have to do to pull it off.

These are things I know firsthand, and things people who know me often ask me about (though I usually just book them into bed and breakfasts myself -- identifying ruffled death traps is an acquired skill). I am almost always right about everything (food, style and travel-related, anyway, and often many other things) and if everyone would just do as I say, dinner would taste better, cupcakes would not be dry, your parties would be more fun (for you), and mortar attacks... well, they always suck. I can't do anything about them.



*except laundry. I can't manage my own laundry, much less yours.





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Thursday, February 24, 2011

Your tax dollars at work! (Edited for spelling and punctuation. My blog is like the cobbler's children)


Or not as it were. When I worked on Capitol Hill, I had nothing but time to write my blog. Now that I am employed in the private sector -- for which I took a 70 percent pay cut, but because of which I am 900 percent happier -- I'm actually slammed all day...but with good wonderful things, like food and wine and farmers.


(I make $10,000 more than Abraham Lincoln's secretary of war, NOT adjusted for inflation. best move I ever made, by the way. But if enough of you subscribe and you really really should I could get a raise! http://www.flavormags.com/)

Anyway, "working" cuts into the blogging, and for that I apologize.

That said, I have begun my side career as bad ass reupholsterer -- you may recall my New Life Resolution to that effect.

I have a terrible sickly pink velvet wing back chair ("flesh toned" in Crayola's early racist parlance) that I am recovering with striped remnant fabric ($4.97 a yard, 10 yards) and my staple gun. It is half-assed crafting at its very best. It actually looks pretty good so far. Staples will be covered in black seam tape and much hot glue. If you come over don't pick at the chair, please.

Before:

It's that monstrosity between the windows. It's extremely comfy though, and has a nice presence at the dinner table.

By the way, I'm selling those battered leather club chairs. They are the real article -- just don't fit into my house anymore. Cough up $1,500 for the pair and we'll talk (new, horrible replicas from Pottery Barn cost $1,500 - 2,00 a piece, and Restoration Hardware has sold out and discontinued it's line, which looked very similar.)

Mine are SUPER battered, so you must love the lived in look.
During:
I'm calling this the Brother Where Are Thou Chair, because of the prison stripes See?





I'll post After when it's done!

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