The Best Laid Plans...

My plans for the evening involved leaving the office an hour early, picking up my dry-cleaning, changing the sheets on my bed, making dinner, and then working at home for an hour or two (to atone for that hour out of the office).

I believe the Scottish poet Robert burns put it best when he said

The best laid schemes o' mice an' Ms. Strainedconsciousness

Gang aft agley

Whatever the heck that's supposed to mean. I had no idea you could get a face full of Scottish phlegm just from reading poetry on a computer screen.

You see, my best laid scheme involved putting my current work onto my USB drive and bringing it home with me, but for some reason, the files didn't transfer, and I have an old version of the project with which to work. So, no work will be accomplished this evening.

Instead, I am working away at my portfolio, whittling it down to the bare essentials, cutting out extraneous details and verbiage, and shrinking down the sketches that originally seemed so vibrant but now seem a little bit too... sketchy. They'll still be included, just smaller. To the side. Maybe down in that corner over there. Yeah, there.

And don't come out of the corner until the timer goes off, or you're in trouble, Mr. Sketch.

Sketches, these days. Give 'em an inch, and they'll take a mile.

Bangarang! Peter Pan Would Love This Place!

My current project involves designing what we refer to as "The Treehouse" for a gentleman in his 60s who is tired of sharing a home office and a gym with his wife.

Their current home office alone is larger than my apartment, and contains its own secret "home office within an office" for him behind a secret door in a bookcase.

I'm not making this up.

The fact that his wife's numerous charitable activities require her to spread her papers out across their home office, however, along with the fact that she also uses the room for gift-wrapping lends it a less than calming air for his considerable investment needs, and so he wants his own little piece of space in which to play with his money.

I'm designing it.

It's not a true treehouse per se because it doesn't rely on (living) trees for its structural support, but it is situated so that the bulk of the structure will be in the canopy of the trees that grow along the creek that runs through the couples' backyard. They have what is arguably one of the most beautifully situated lots in Dallas. I got to wander around it for 30 minutes taking pictures a few weeks ago, and I really didn't want to leave, what with the water rushing over the rocks in the babbling brook, and the birds cooing in the trees overhead, as I strolled in the dappled sunlight. Then a sneezing fit overcame me, and hey-o, time to go!

It's a really fun project to work on, and it isn't completely overwhelming, either. I've picked out the plumbing fixtures (that I want, anyway. The client hasn't seen them, yet), and lighting fixtures, and the structural guys are getting drawings together for a pricing set. I have a meeting with an HVAC consultant Tuesday, although I'll be the one doing the drawings for the HVAC system, because we don't have it in the budget for an outside consultant to do all the drawings. I'll also be doing all the electrical plans and lighting plans. I'm glad I got in some practice with my last project! Start off small and work your way up, right?

Now we just need to Shang-hai the clients into, you know, actually coming into the office for a meeting and we'll be good to go.

I really hope they like the faucet I've picked out. It's a stunner. I guess I should choose a couple of back-ups just in case, though.

I Promise!

Just bear with me a little while longer and the obsessive sofa posts will cease. Honest. I swear.

My sofa is currently at the upholsterer's shop. Upholsterer #2 initially quoted me a price $30 lower than Upholsterer #1's bid, but then began asking me questions about why, exactly, I insisted on a down/feather blend wrap for the cushions, since even the best seat cushions will require weekly fluffing/turning if they're used daily? He talked me into using a different material that I was able to experience at his shop, and yes, it feels exactly like down-wrapped cushions (but costs half as much and requires no fluffing). Let's just hope I made the right decision.

I initially assumed it would be anywhere from 4-8 weeks before I would see my sofa in final finished form, because that's typical turn-around time for custom upholstery work. I was wrong. Dead wrong.

It will only be 2-3 weeks. Yes, the world's most solicitous upholsterer (who does work for one of Dallas' most well-known interior designers) will have my sofa returned to me in 2-3 weeks TOPS, because it's a small job, and they're in between a couple of big jobs right now. Brilliant!

Of course, that means I'll have to get my apartment rearranged pronto in preparation for the sofa's imminent arrival. I thought I'd have considerably longer to prepare for it, but it seems that I was wrong. It's not that I'm never wrong, it just happens so rarely that it catches me off guard.

No, really.

This past week, I was trying to figure out what on earth I was going to do for a throw pillow for the sofa. It just needs one stunner in the middle, and herein lay the problem: it has to be a stunner. A quick trip to my usual throw-pillow go-tos proved fruitless: Pier 1's pillows looked too chintzy, and the pillows at Z Galerie didn't have any blue in them, although they did have the lovely shrimpy color of my sofa.

Then, I remembered it: a needlepoint I completed about 5-6 years ago. I dug it out of its basket at my apartment, and sure enough, it's the perfect size and shape, and has the same exact color in it with which my sofa will be upholstered. Karma, baby. Karma. Or something.

So the needlepoint will be turned into a throw pillow, and for less money than I thought it would cost (sweet!) and my little living room will be happy.

OCDesign + Migraine = Working in Bed

Monday night, around 10:30 or 11:00 pm, give or take a few minutes and seconds, I realized I had a migraine coming on. I took my medicine, shut down my computer (I was working - yes, on stuff for the office), and went to sleep, aided by the anti-nausea medicine, which essentially is like smashing yourself in the head with a rubber mallet, insofar as unconscious-making goes.

I hoped that my preemptive strike would render me migraine-free Tuesday morning, ready to face the day and go to work, albeit a bit groggy-headed and sluggish for the day.

I was wrong in my hopes. Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.

My alarm went off, and it was literally all I could do to open my eyes. I guess the anti-nausea medicine hadn't worn off, because I was practically sleep-walking as I stumbled to the bathroom to take a shower. I had to lean against the wall, but wasn't really aware of the fact, because I was still so darned sleepy. Asleep, really.

After the water hit, however, I realized that I was leaning against the wall, and realized, more importantly, why I was leaning against the wall: I was dizzy. The room was positively swimming around me, and so I shut off the water - after rinsing the shampoo from my hair, natch - and called Mrs. Robinson to tell her I'd be late to work, that I'd had a migraine the night before and was off to a sluggish start this morning.

An hour later, I was no better. I called back and asked to speak to Radio. He answered the phone, and I told him I had a terrible case of migraine induced vertigo - not uncommon, I'd had it before - and that I was incapable of driving to work. "But I have my files and everything at home with me, so I'll work here," I said, trying to sound chipper and upbeat, although I'm sure I sounded rather more like the losing contender in a heavyweight boxing match.

I fell back asleep, since I still wasn't firing on all cylinders, and came to around noon and battled my way into a sitting position. My head vetoed that idea, so I slid my computer over onto the bed, rolled onto my side, and spent the next two hours researching possible bathroom flooring materials for the project I'm working on, right now. I've actually found one I like, and it's (relatively) affordable. I've emailed a link to the material to my work email and everything. By the time I'd found it, I was starting to feel better, so I put on some non-pajama clothes and sat up, and began working on CAD drawings, which is what I did from around 2:00 until 6:30, when I talked to my mom on the phone. By that point, the vertigo was almost entirely gone, to be replaced by a vague queasiness that I've had lately post-migraine, or pre-migraine, and sometimes en-migraine, so essentially constantly.

After the brief chat with my mom, I decided to venture out of the house, so I made a run to my happy place, aka Container Store, to buy a couple of things and now I'm back home, ready to return to my work.

Hurrah.

Couch Debacle Concluded! Almost...

I purchased a (used) sofa from Craigslist. After a month of trolling websites and checking out posts that promised me beautiful sofas but failed to deliver, I finally hit the jackpot when I read "Great reupholstery project: beautiful bones." This poster was speaking my language.

And oh, what a lovely language it was! I had finally found a sofa with the shape I've been craving but can't afford! And it came with a cash-strapped young couple who needed the space the sofa took up, which combined to form the perfect nexus of sofa bliss! A $99 sofa spectacular!

In desperate need of reupholstering.

Which led me to the Great Fabric Hunt of 2010. I promised my mom I'd have the sofa out of her garage ASAP (she can still park in the garage, it's just a little bit tight), so I had to find the fabric ASAP. I was thinking peacock blue velvet.

Do you have any idea how much the perfect peacock blue velvet costs? It costs $160 per yard. My sofa requires 20 yards of fabric to recover. I could recover the seat cushion, and that would be it.

With time running out, I asked my sister if she minded running to a couple of upholstery fabric stores in Houston on my mom's and my visit over Easter weekend (decorating in the StrainedConsciousness family is a collaborative effort), and she was more than happy to oblige.

Good-bye, Peacock blue. Hello, Shrimp.

Yes, Shrimp. That is, apparently, the color of the velvet I bought with which to upholster my sofa. Shrimp.

The sofa will eventually look kind of similar to the one pictured above in color and in shape, except mine will have a skirt. Why will mine have a skirt? Because that's one less place I have to dust.

Now, I just have to line up an upholsterer. I received a quote this morning from one upholsterer which was about $200 more than I was hoping to pay. I should receive another quote from a less expensive - but generally just as good - upholsterer tomorrow. Hopefully he'll be considerably cheaper than the competition.

Food, Glorious Food!

I went to Houston, this weekend, to visit my sister and her husband. My dad was out of town, and my mom and I decided we'd like to spend the Easter holidays en famille so we road-tripped on down I-45 Friday.

My mom reunited (and it felt so goooood) with one of her gal pals from college Friday evening, and my sister and the hubster took me to Grimaldi's out in Sugarland, whose motto should be Sugarland: Our stores' signage is creepy! Seriously, all the stores and restaurants have signage the height and font and color of which is dictated by city ordinance so it all matches and gives the thing a Stepford feel.

On to the food! Grimaldi's cooks their pizzas - it's a pizza place, natch - in a coal-fired oven, so the crust is crispy on the outside, but chewy on the inside, and delicious all over. Their mozzarella is the real deal, folks, not that Kraft grated stuff. It's made from the milk of free-range cows, and tastes like the mozzarella di bufala that comes in tubs of water (whey?) in the dairy section of Whole Paycheck - er - Foods. We ordered our pizza with artichoke hearts, Italian sausage, and sundried tomatoes. Delicioso!

Saturday, we had a breakfast of almond croissants from the farmer's market (not sure which one, though, because I slept through the market excursion and awoke in time for the eating bit), scrambled eggs, and strawberries. Lunch was eaten at Stone Mill Bakers in between bouts of frantic interior design shopping. All the ladies had their to die for curried chicken salad sandwich box lunch, which includes a bag of chips, a drink, and a cookie! I had an iced egg-shaped sugar cookie. Yum! Their curried chicken salad is served on raisin bread. Heaven! Heaven!

Saturday night was grass-fed beef roast cooked on the brother-in-law's grill with green and red bell peppers and onions in beer (mmmmmm, beer) with a green salad (arugugugugugula, green beans, other green yummy things) and then shortbread with blackberries and Hank's vanilla ice cream. Hank's ice cream is the best ice cream known to mankind. It bests Bluebell by a country mile. It has so much butterfat in it that you can feel your arteries clog as you digest it. It is wonderful.

You may think my gustatory tale is over, but you are incorrect. Oh no. The coup de grace is just around the corner.

Easter morning, we all went to services at the Emerson Unitarian Universalist Association, and then proceeded to brunch at the Backstreet Cafe on South Shepherd. They had a fixe prix menu for the holiday, and it was an exercise in mental gymnastics to decide what I wanted to order. I could have ordered the vichyssoise followed by roasted leg of lamb with spinach and then strawberry shortcake, or crawfish risotto followed by lobster benedict with a filet and stuffed mushroom and then banana custard, or chicken liver pate followed by the sea trout and then blackberry cobbler with burnt butter ice cream.

I opted, however, to show some restraint, and ordered the mixed greens, followed by the pepper sauteed shrimp with crawfish grits and tempura green onions, with a simple palate cleanser of orange chocolate bread pudding and a dollop of creme fraiche.

Very restrained, indeed.

Flashbacks to "Swiss Family Robinson"... Still Without a Hot Fritz...

Although I cut out early, today, ostensibly to join a gal pal for a romp at the mall. We were supposed to attend an RSVP invitation-only fashion show, but the line to get in was long, and she'd had a bad day and wasn't in the mood to sit through a mediocre fashion show, so we bailed and had drinks at one of the bars.

We were originally going to have drinks at Kona Grill, but the table we were five milliseconds away from sitting at was Shanghai'd by a fellow whose girlfriend should have been embarrassed to be with him. The guy wouldn't make eye contact with us after scooting into the chair I was about to occupy, so we called him some unflattering names - within his hearing - and said we hoped his girlfriend realized what an (insert unflattering term here) she was with - again within his hearing - and went to Luna de Noche, where they had reduced price appetizers and $3 not-bad house wine.

I'm trying not to obsess about sofas, too much, and managed to get quite a bit of work done, today. I've picked out the plumbing fixtures for my clients $500,000 tree house gym/office (ahem) and am detailing the millwork as we speak...er...write because I left work early and I have a guilty conscience about not getting all of my hours in, indoctrinated by the more corporate firms I worked for in a past life. It's kind of relaxing, working at home, all snuggled up in my pajamas and under an enormous duvet.

That's what I need at work! An enormous duvet!