Welcome to Dangerous K 2.0

Sexy, eh?

This is my way of saying I plan to continue blogging despite my evolution into a slightly less drunken waste of space. Thank you to my loving friends and family who assured me that I am not becoming a boring old lady just because I can no longer consume a fifth of Jack Daniels and remain vertical. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the house-holdy posts have been increasing and the I-threw-up-on-a-man-on-the-subway posts have been decreasing. This is a trend that’s here to stay, I fear, though, that said, Beau and I will be celebrating the best work week ever this evening. I got a raise and mini-promotion (no new title, but extra work which includes spending company money on limos and booze) and Beau got a surprise bonus out of the blue. So, that whole sobriety thing is subject to change. I’ll be back from the Cape on Monday with – I swear on all that is holy – with pictures of my first wedding craft and the final bedroom pictures.

A special thanks to Marina at Penny Lane Designs who is responsible for this face lift. I’d recommend her for anyone else considering a bit of freshening up.

Sneak Peak

Oh yes. I painted the master bedroom a particularly vibrant shade of "are you fucking crazy?" blue.

And now I'm wondering where to find a good online tutorial for my Nikon S710 because it's a wonderful little camera and I'm not doing it justice with my lack of photography skills. Also, I would like to avoid having to crop my pictures so close to hide the shame of an obvious flash on window pane glass.

Floral Motif Thug

Every year I buy a planner and every year it falls apart from the rough and tumble nature of life in my purse where it is forced to cohabit with stilettos, half eaten muffins, and the occasional leaking water bottle that I refuse to throw in the garbage when recycling will eventually be available. It’s the handbag equivalent of Compton.

This year I bought my pocket calendar from Posy Paper Co.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t appear that their Etsy shop is operational anymore which is a shame because this little guy has taken a serious beating for the past six months and is still in fantastic condition. Hopefully 2010 will not see a return to my old organizational system of blanketing my desk in a complex series of color coded Post-Its.

Who Needs Free Time?

Pfft. Not me. I’m beginning to get used to the nonstop roller coaster of home-owning, wedding-planning, and family-event-juggling. This time last year, my favorite pastimes included waking up at noon with a hangover and lazing about on the couch but I haven’t done either in ages and I can’t honestly say I miss them. There’s just not enough time to loudly moan for Beau to bring me Tums. If I need Tums now, it goes on my to-do list and gets checked off just like the others.

Friday afternoon I trekked further into the city by car than I’ve ever been before to attend a friend’s 30th anniversary party at my old office. It was relatively uneventful, but merits mention because I actually got into and out of the city during Friday rush hour without crashing or crying or ending up in Maine.

Saturday morning we drove down to Connecticut where we caught the ferry for Long Island for the yearly Dangerous Family Reunion. As usual, I brought my camera with the best of intentions and then promptly abandoned it in favor of cracking dirty jokes at the kids table with Beau, Bologna, T, and my favorite cousin, Hazardous (so called because while I may be Dangerous, she’s downright trouble) and her husband. My family lived up to its reputation as the Italian version of the family in My Big Fat Greek Wedding by asking five minutes into the party when we planned on breeding.

On Sunday we raided Home Depot and held a second Ikea siege. For the remainder of the day I repotted sick plants that I definitely didn’t overwater by leaving on the back porch during Boston monsoon season and painted the bedroom. There should be some stellar before and after pictures by the end of the week.

Meanwhile, we’ve finally scrapped the idea of a pseudo-elopement to Bermuda with our 50 closest family and friends and are steaming forward with plans for a full-fledged Cape Cod wedding next June. Since I’ve learned nothing from watching She-Ra craft oodles of time-consuming goodies for her wedding this September, I already have two craft projects of my own planned, not to mention my own Etsy shop to be launched by the end of the summer.

So, that is how I came to cherish my lunchtime blogging sessions in solitude though it may make me look slightly sociopathic to my coworkers who all eat lunch together in the break room.

PS You may have noticed my blog has its own official home at www.dangerousk.net now. The damn squatters at www.dangerousk.com have been sitting on that domain for well over a year without budging or developing it, so I gave in and bought the alternative. Keep an eye out here for another of my pet projects coming soon: an overhaul of the blog design. Happy I-Don't-Spend-All-My-Money-On-Tequila-Shots-Anymore Day to me!

Domestic Adventures (Not the Chris Brown Type)

I am loving on domesticity so hard right now. There has been a veritable bonanza of householdy stuff going on and I’ve gotten very squealy and arm-flappy and new-word-makey-uppy to convey the full scope of my delight. My delight is so much bigger than you understand right now. So much bigger.

After She-Ra’s bridal shower this weekend (which was lovely and very cute and gave me the chance to make sober introductions to other Beau family members that I don’t already know, but which I can’t talk about in more detail before I get to Bologna’s baby shower because in the Great Shower Caste System, Bologna’s shower wins by virtue of happening first, being planned by me, and being thrown for a blood-relation. So, in short, I will get to Bologna’s baby shower soon… ish) Beau and I came home early to finally get to work on the condo. First on our to-do list was pillaging Ikea for furniture since the place is cavernous. And beige. Maybe I mentioned that it is beige before.

Our Ikea raid was extremely successful. We walked away with more Swedish accoutrement than one can reasonably expect to fit in a sedan even if said sedan is of the Italian Grandfather variety. But we are not reasonable people. We want our Stefan and Grevbäck and several hundred other small items that we cannot live without like these place mats and that garbage can and OH! these skirt hangers are only $0.99 each? Grab like 20. Also that dust ruffle. And that thing. Yes that thing. What is it? Its $1.50 – put it in the cart. I’ll figure out what it does later.

It became clearer that the situation was challenging at best when we returned to the car with a greater volume of stuff than available interior space. Specifically, the bed which was in a big flat box of a length suitable for use as a life raft and was wider than the car. But Beau, being of the male persuasion, knew exactly how to transport this item home. He began by launching it on top of my car.

For the next 10 minutes, Beau ran around with flimsy Swedish twine while making brow-furrowing faces to show his concentration and hide his delight with the project. Eventually, my Lillesand was “securely” tied to the roof. Beau hopped into the driver’s seat and I hopped into the seat behind him as the front passenger’s seat was fully reclined to accommodate a bookshelf.

We began our journey of under 10 miles home at 30mph, avoiding highways and making LOTS of new friends along the way who were all so excited to see us limping along that they followed us almost close enough to push us up the hills. I waved and smiled and pointed at the giant cardboard slab. When I do things like that, my family often tells strangers that I’m touched in the head. Then I just wave and smile at them some more.

What’s interested about Ikea twine is that it seems to be made of Lycra because when the wind got under the parcel, the string would stretch and the box would levitate ever so slightly forcing us to drive with our arms out the window in an attempt to maintain stability and keep the car from lifting off. We got home without going airborne and pulled everything into the condo where Beau contently began piecing things together and countering my offers for help.

Since then, we’ve also invested in a washer/dryer set which gave me hours of amusement last night (no, seriously, I’ve never been so happy to wash laundry. Mostly because my basement isn’t covered in midcentury grime or infested with hippies like my last two) and I’ve also purchased my very first sewing machine with which I will alternately hem skirts and mangle clothing patterns. Tonight we’re heading to Home Depot for paint and such to revamp the bedroom, so I may have a few before and after pictures sometime this century.

The Grand Tour: First Floor

We’re preparing to overhaul the condo which we got for a steal thanks to the lack of updates made since it was built 25 years ago. And, of course, thanks to the economy being in the crapper (thanks economy!) Before beginning work, I snapped a few pictures to compare with the end results:

Here’s our eat-in-kitchen which features glamorous linoleum floors and a light fixture from the early 1980s Italian-American era of etched glass and shame. Note the Miami Vice pink walls. They are a running theme. In the entire house.

This part of the kitchen won’t be tackled until next year when our free money shows up. Until then, I will accept the overarching beige-ness and continue feeling like Buffalo Bill is my interior decorator.

Besides the couch and Beau who’s preparing to hang curtains over our sliding glass door, the living room is still predominantly empty. What seemed like an excessive amount of furniture in our tiny apartment barely fills the room here. I think the area behind the couch will eventually house a line of bookshelves reminiscent of the library in my childhood home. Also, possibly a liquor cabinet.

Here we have my very own fireplace in which I will burn wood, confidential papers, and any dissenters who think I should switch to a gas-burning fireplace. I’m proud of my little magazine-inspired display though Beau is skeptical. Yes, the long sign on the left says “Help Wanted. No Irish Need Apply.” I bought it after dumping the Evil Irish Bartender and I refuse to get rid of it just because I’m engaged to yet another mick. Anyone who objects will be thrown on the fire with the potatoes.

And lastly, a teaser shot of my staircase leading to the second floor which is too messy to conscionably photograph and post on the Internet. I have some standards. Those standards involve not taking pictures of my unmade bed.

Until then, look closely at the photos above. In one of them, I might be stark naked leaning against a flesh colored wall. That should keep you busy until I get around to making my bed.

Let’s Do the Time Warp Again

I can’t believe it’s been almost three weeks since my last post. No, I won’t believe it. I refuse. You must be mistaken. I’m pretty sure I wrote something further down the page and you just missed it. You should appreciate those other posts that you clearly overlooked because it’s been a busy month and my brain is slightly more frazzled than usual. I:

• Finished packing the apartment and jumped up and down to piss off the Evil Landlord
• Moved into the new condo thanks to my crew of six
• Finished unpacking (well, 90% there)
• Skipped town for a long Independence Day weekend
• Formed the Lobster Liberation Front; campaigned against cruel and unusual punishment on the 4th of July; was outwitted by Beau’s uncle who claimed to be a Wiccan who sacrifices crustaceans to the Mother Earth; was told I was infringing on his religious rights which was thoroughly un-American of me
• Developed a weird stomach complaint that made it difficult to eat for an entire week; saw doctor; was told it was probably stress; scoffed at diagnosis
• Put the finishing touches on Bologna’s baby shower
• Drove to the Jerz and got lost near my old hometown
• Cooked for 30 people with Beau and Lulu
• Attended Bologna’s baby shower
• Came home
• Realized my stomach had been better since the day before the shower; started believing that maybe it was stress

But here I am, returning to some semblance of Zen. More stories and details to come now that I’m not clutching my abdomen in pain or throwing baby related items at the computer and hissing through clenched teeth.