#easy no sew drapes for French door

[moonlightchess]

a brief interlude in which a young mortician finally meets his patron saint.

(Diaphanous).

Around five years old, when he first started hearing them. Soft, muted weeping echoing lightly through the cavernous halls just beyond his bedroom door, and by ten he was accustomed to sliding out of bed, yawning, padding to his doorway to step out into the endlessly shadowed maw veining through the upstairs of his family’s home. The moaning creak of the floorboards was easily avoidable if you knew where to slide your feet, which by then he did, and he’d whisper into the dark: “You’re okay. It’s all over now, but stay as long as you need to. You’ll be getting along when you’re ready.” And even then, there was something profoundly tender and melancholy wrapping itself around little Theodore like an aura, to which the ghosts usually responded favorably. On occasion, they’d even slip into his bedroom after he climbed back into bed, gently tugging his duvet over him in thanks.

Sixteen, and Pere introduced him to the family business in the most definitive sense yet, bringing him down into the embalming room. There, he was shown how to drain the bodies, to sew their gums securely closed, to carefully apply powders and lotions to suggest sleep despite death. Pere helped him to remove the heart and lungs of a corpse in the preparation process of the old fashion, despite it having fallen out of favor in more recent years. Bellefontaine, Louisiana, lingered a decade or two behind much of the nation, in every way from embalming practices to racial sensitivity, both topics having already been addressed with young Theodore. “A person is a person, deserving of respect and love and dignity regardless of their skin, wealth, or any other such thing that the ignorant might think defines them,” Theodore senior had informed his small son firmly, long ago, meeting his midnight-blue eyes that were so solemn and sympathetic even then. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Pere.” Theodore had not understood, not entirely, back then. But at sixteen, hunched over the dead body of a local bait shop owner whose wife made the softest, sweetest beignets he’d ever tasted, clarity rose sharp and bitter. “Monsieur Dumonde,” had escaped him before he could swallow the words in the interest of professionalism. “I knew him. Used to buy worms from him when the boys wanted to go fishing, but it’s been so long. I didn’t know he was sick.”

“Everyone dies, ti-Theodore,” and he’d been in love with the way his name rolled from his father’s tongue in a thicker cajun accent than his own - tee-tay-oh-doure, Theodore junior. It was enormously soothing, even now as he considered shaving Monsieur Dumonde’s thick mustache away for his funeral - but in the end, he placed the straight razor back onto his father’s table of sharp tools, aware that his decision had been a test. “No. We leave the mustache, he always had one when he was alive. He used to tug on it and laugh at our homemade fishing poles whenever we went into his shop. His mustache was a part of him, and it’s important that we send him to the next with as much of the man he was intact as we can.” He’d been a little nervous, meeting the dusk-colored eyes that he’d inherited from his beloved father, holding his breath.

“Good boy,” and he’d exhaled. “There are many who would have shaved him, cut his hair, put on some strange new clothes he never would have chosen himself. But you, my sweet and quiet boy, you understand.”

Mere had been a dancer, once. Ballet had been her life, her identity, until a careless would-be principal prince had stumbled into her leap - during a rehearsal no less, she’d been denied even the dignity of a grand disaster to end her career in the middle of a soaringly tragic performance - and her ankle had snapped, had never healed properly. She limped a touch even then, bringing sweet tea out to their wraparound porch thick with creeping ivy and heavy flowers bursting open at random, studding the lush green like jewels in a necklace, where her teenage son sat cross-legged on a battered loveseat long since dragged out to face the elements of the swampland. Together, they would count the darting fireflies, tiny pinpricks of golden light waging a valiant war against the encroaching southern dark. “I was beautiful once,” she’d said to him. “They all used to come watch me dance, in the city.”

“You’re still beautiful, Mere.”

She’d only sighed, slipping a hand into the pocket of her pea-green silk skirt to retrieve a shot bottle of bourbon, hoarded from the liquor store in town, and poured it into her tea.

They were both gone now, six, seven years proper. He’d prepared their bodies, and in death all of his mother’s pain and longing had been exposed to him with the first incision into her cold and rigid flesh for the draining, sixty-two years of ballet and resentment filling up the glass reservoir of the tubing’s end, dark red. She’d always done up her soft, honey-colored hair into elaborate braids, draped over one shoulder or both or trailing down her back or even wound up into a twisted crown if she was in a happier mood than usual. Theodore had sat beside her, holding her stiff milky hand with his own and with the other, scrolling through youtube tutorials on how to create the perfect fishtail braid until he was confident.

Pere had gone five years after, the light in him having drained out as clear and real as every fluid in his wife’s body had eventually found its way into the belly of their aspirator in the basement. Pneumonia had taken his mother - she’d always had a poor and fragile immune system - but his father had been just shy of seventy and to this day, at thirty-two years old, Theodore had never been offered a satisfying cause of death for him. “Just his time, sug,” a nurse in powder blue scrubs had tried, patting his hand soothingly and because this was the south, “I’ll be praying for y’all - well, just you I suppose. Oh lord, you’re the only Bissonette left now, ain’tcha?”

He was. They’d left the entire mortuary to him, and with it all the responsibilities of being the local mortician and funeral director at such a tender age, and his head had at first swum dizzily with all the pressure and expectations. Theodore senior and his wife Lisette had been fixtures of their country community, familiar and comforting, always there whenever someone had passed on to arrange flowers and platters of cold cuts, to deliver gentle words to cushion the grief. They’d been known, trusted, but Theodore junior, well. Ti-Theodore Bissonette, so young to be running the whole house himself, and the folk of Bellefontaine just weren’t sure. Until the death of little Suzette Marchande.

Hit by a car, she’d been, some hideous beast driving drunk through the winding access road circling their little cajun town and pointed out toward Nola proper. He was in prison now, but Suzette remained dead, and in his huge, capable hands Theodore had poured every bit of his father’s knowledge and sensitivity into that girl. He’d dressed her in yellow, one of her own dresses supplied by her mother, but he’d also remembered that she’d loved frogs. She’d catch them in the swamp and hold them in both hands, laughing at their croaky sounds, but then she’d carefully deposit them onto some leaf somewhere. “They got big ones, in the jungle. The Amazon,” he remembered her saying when the Bissonettes had run into she and her parents in town once, years ago. “Big as cars, they are. I’m gonna go there someday and study ‘em.”

So he’d bought sparkly little green frog clips for her hair online, pinning it back from her freckled face. Her favorite stuffed froggie, named Monsieur Ourauron, Mister Ribbitt, had been lost in the crash, but he’d found one in the Amazon - or at least on amazon - that looked largely the same. When her parents had seen her during the open-casket service, they’d wept and clutched his hands, thanking him in a babbling blend of French, English and grief. That day had declared the end of one life and the beginning of another, as little Suzette had been delivered unto whatever waited after, but thirty-year-old ti-tay-oh-doure had been manifest and confirmed.

There was something to be said for how tall he was. He would have thought some would find it intimidating, difficult to relate to considering that he was six-seven or perhaps a touch over, impossibly long limbs and a hawkish nose, soft mouth borne of his Mere and his father’s nearly indigo eyes the color of a sky five minutes before the moonrise. His was soft, floppy, peanut-brown hair and a quiet timbre resonating in his voice that was immediately associated with the unthreatening sense of calm authority that his father had once carried around easy as an old sweater. Theodore would take care of everything, Bellefontaine knew. They’d be left free to grieve their lost, because he was here with his huge hands and endless legs and fleeting smile.

He lived alone, now. There had been flings, lovers, Audrey from Nola with her autumn-brown skin and fox-gold eyes, elegant and sure, but she hadn’t stayed long. “This place is charming, but you can’t actually expect to stay here all your life, can you?” she’d told him once, after the sex, the two of them naked and wrapped around each other in his sprawling bed with a gentle breeze from outside floating through his open window. She didn’t understand, and neither did the men, not even sweet Peter with his auburn curls and dimples.

“You’re all alone out here, doesn’t it get boring? Lonely? My god, you live in a mortuary.” His shiver had been all that Theodore had needed to kiss him tenderly and send him on his way. His father had been extraordinarily lucky to find Mere, he knew - so few understood, the nature of a curator of death. The ancient contract they’d signed, the tradition they’d inherited. It was sacred but horrifying to most, because everyone wanted the convenience of their holy order at the end of all things, but no one actually wanted to have to think about dying. About the fact that literally all of them, rich or poor, pious or skeptical, afraid or unafraid, was going to die. The repulsion, he understood, was instinctive, and he’d only made his lovers breakfast in the morning and never called any of them back.

Some of the ghosts never left, as it was, and there were mornings in which he’d make his way into the kitchen to find his black tea already steaming, his chair already pulled away from the table. Some of them had found their peace here with him, and so he’d leave his cello out on occasion so that they could pluck the strings or plink a few keys on his mother’s old baby grand in the living room. He was happy too, his natural introversion leaving him largely content in his solitary life. There were those who sought comfort in his touch after the funerals of their loved ones, holding onto his hands a beat too long as he bade them goodbye, meeting his eyes meaningfully, but he always released them to the hazy swamp air outside. They were hurting, vulnerable, and he was a gentleman.

It rained the night the stranger arrived, or stormed rather - Theodore’s lights had been flickering throughout the manor all night. He’d collected candles and charged his phone, but his power had soldiered on even as the thunder crashed and jagged needles of lightning slashed open the churning charcoal sky outside. He’d yanked open the heavy oak door in response to some insistent knocking, only to find a man roughly his age standing there on the porch. He was oddly untouched by the rain despite no car present behind him, moon-pale, spilled-ink hair thick and soft over limpid, silver-mirror eyes, colorless as a deep-sea creature’s, slicing through the dark.

“Saints alive, are you lost? Are you all right?” The man, he didn’t know personally, but a truth and clarity rolled from him like steam off the swamp, and he felt enormously familiar somehow.

“I wouldn’t say lost, no. May I come in?” His voice, soft and polite, still clear and steady over the storm.

“Yes, forgive me. Please.” He stepped aside, watching him enter, translucent eyes sweeping over the yawning, shadowed maw of the grand old manor’s entryway. “Who are you? I’m sorry, but I’m not taking in any bodies until morning.”

“I understand. Terribly sorry to intrude upon your evening like this, but you and I, we have a matter to discuss.” His accent was not local, nor was it unfamiliar. It felt like a forgotten dream, abruptly remembered, an old song once loved playing on the radio years later.

“I’m afraid I don’t recognize you, Sir. Have you been to one of my funerals?”

“Sweet Theodore, I have been to all of them.”

“I don’t understand.”

The stranger clasped his hands behind his back, idle as a museum patron, gazing thoughtfully up to the enormous and heavily framed oil paintings of Bissonettes past lining the walls of the entryway. “It’s my fault for allowing myself to become so fond of you, but you’ve never really understood just how rare a person you are, have you Theodore? I shouldn’t have come here, but I had no choice. I couldn’t let you leave here tonight, that tree would have rendered your car to a smoking wreck and your body to worse. And you, sweet Theodore, you deserve so much better. After all the respect and care and compassion you have shown so unfailingly to myself and my vocation over the years - I’ve come to love you, and you deserve a soft and quiet end. So much sweeter than the one planned for you, I had to make sure you didn’t die in that crash. I had to come here, on this night. For all your kindness, tonight I will be kind to you.”

Drunk, perhaps. Some sauced-up tourist stumbling through the bayou after a bar crawl, but - this far from the city proper? “I’m afraid that you’re still losing me, will you please tell me who you are?”

He turned then, colorless gaze meeting Theodore’s, an echo of sorrow in his faint smile.

“You know who I am.”

In the end, it was true. He supposed at least a part of him had known from the moment he’d opened the door.

“I do. I didn’t think I’d meet you this young in life, but I’m pleased to find you a gentleman, Sir. I can only hope that in the time you’ve allowed me, I’ve done you proud.”

“You and your whole dear family. You don’t know how much I owe you, all of you. You would have lingered, in pain, on life support, for months. It was unbearable, unacceptable. Not you, not my Theodore who has served me so gently and so diligently for so much of your life.”

“I suppose it’s time, then.” He was not afraid. Death, he knew. He’d existed out here in a kind of stasis for years, honoring his patron saint, the man standing before him in a soft black sweater and reaching out to slip an arm through his.

“It is. But I think the storm is winding to a close, and the mists are always so lovely. Why don’t we go see.”

Nodding, Theodore allowed himself to be led to the door, turning briefly to look back just one last time into his beautiful old house, his shrine to a softer death than most knew existed. He’d always done his best, to make the transition as easy as possible for those on their way to some other place, and now it was time to go.

“Will it hurt?”

“Not for you, no.” The stranger opened the door then, and Theodore couldn’t be sure that the new world laid before him looked the same to both of them, but he smiled at what he saw.

“You were right. It’s beautiful.”

The house and the ghosts left wandering its halls signed in unison with the departure of their beloved Theodore, but the rain had slowed and the moon had risen and they were patient enough to wait a while. Someone would come, someone as warm and bright as him, someone who would take care of them as tenderly as he had, some new Theodore born. In the end, after all, nothing ever really died, and daylight was coming on soon, sure as a promise.

[trillian-anders]

amor de mi vida - 1945

pairing: bucky barnes x latinx!reader

warnings: racism, prejudice, fluff, angst, little bit of smut

word count: 3550

description: Bucky Barnes is a sweet young Brooklyn boy, just on the cusp of manhood, a hopeless romantic that falls in love with almost every girl he sees. when he sets his eyes on a young girl fresh off the boat from Cuba he finds out how hard love can really be.

for @cake-writes 1940s challenge.

note: this chapter is a little rough, sorry guys, it gets better

In your dreams he was there. Always. 

He’d drop his bag, run into your arms and kiss you on the front steps of your brownstone until all the breath left your body. You’d have a family dinner, and then he would be yours. Completely. You’d be with him every day again, spoiled with his presence. After him being gone for four years of your marriage he’d finally be back. And everything would be okay. 

But it wasn’t like that, at all. 

Hitler committed suicide with Eva Braun in some bunker in Europe April of 1945. But Bucky was home before that. 

And missing his left arm. 

He didn’t come to the house you’d made for the two of you, not right away. You found out he was home when Steve showed up to your door. The dark oak opened up to his hulking figure and your stomach dropped. 

“Is he dead?” You asked. Your worst fears standing in front of you, Steve’s face full of sorrow and guilt. The tears started rolling before he could even get a word out, his hands coming to grasp your arms and pull you to him. 

“No,” He shushed, “He’s not. But he’s in bad shape.” He didn’t want to see you. He’d been back in New York for six days. It hurt. A lot. 

The ride to the hospital was silent. Winnie and George in tow behind in their Oldsmobile. Steve said they transported him from somewhere in the mountains in eastern Europe. The final mission, one that had Steve chasing something called the tesseract while Bucky’s life was saved. 

“What happened?” You asked. Steve looked at you with guilt. His knuckles white on the steering wheel. 

“I let him down.” 

He was pale. Thin. He looked worse, you noticed, than he did in those films. You let his parents go in first while you idled in the hallway. You cried silently in the car, and excused yourself once you arrived at the private facility just outside the city limits. In the restroom you looked at yourself in the mirror under the fluorescent lights. 

You tried to swallow it down, the hurt. Knowing that he’d been so close to you for almost a week and hadn’t reached out. 

Winnie and George stepped out, the woman was crying and softly rubbed your arm as they let you have your time. 

The room was quiet when you entered, his eyes focused heavily on the sheets in front of him. His left arm, from right above the elbow down was gone. The skin bandaged and the arm hung uselessly at his side. The relief of seeing him alive let your body in a long breath. It caught his attention, pulling his eyes from the sheets to yours. 

They were sullen, sad and defeated. But they were his. 

You took a cautious step forward, his lips parting, eyes glossy. 

“Hi.” You could feel your bottom lip wobbling. His right arm reached out for you, taking your hand in his. Cold. And pulled you closer. “I’m sorry.” You sat on the side of the bed, his arm pulling you close. “I’m so sorry.” 

Bucky Barnes didn’t deserve you. That’s what he decided. It wasn’t long after he’d seen you for the first time in almost four years that he realized it. He wasn’t steady on his feet for a while. You helped him into a home he didn’t know. The one you made for him to come home to. Your wedding picture hanging in the den behind a sofa he’d never seen before. 

An armchair you’d gotten him that he’d never sat in before he settled into while you got dinner started. You turned the dial on a radio he’d never listened to before and swallowed the fact that he wasn’t what you deserved. 

He was broken. 

You’d brought him one of his old shirts to bring him home in. The fabric loose and shapeless on his body, you’d even brought a pin to fasten his left sleeve up onto the offending stump. 

He wondered when you would leave him. How good of a husband could he possibly be? There was no work in his future. He couldn’t provide, not anymore. What good would one arm do? 

You smiled softly at him as you brought a tray over. “The doctor said not to give you anything too rich?” Toast, bread he was sure you’d baked for him. A light colored broth that spilled off his spoon while his hand shook. The embarrassment of having you spoon it into his mouth. 

“I’m not hungry.” He mutters. The broth only half gone. A bite or two of the toast. You break his heart when you smile and say okay before taking it back to the kitchen. 

“Did you want to lie down?” In a bed he’d never slept in.  He shakes his head, 

“I’ll be fine here.” Steve was supposed to stop by later, but he didn’t want to see him either. He needed time. 

“I have a couple dress orders to finish,” You explain, leaning over him and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, he closes his eyes on the contact. Savoring it. “If you need anything just call for me.” He feels himself nod, but it doesn’t really register. He watches as you walk into the adjacent room, sitting down at your sewing machine. The steady whir putting him to sleep. 

It wasn’t easy. There was no happy reunion. And he hadn’t even kissed you since he’d gotten back. But you were trying to suffer through. He could have died. Steve explained over coffee, Bucky in a restless sleep in the den, that he’d fallen from a train into a ravine. It’s a miracle he’d survived, let alone the only thing he lost was his arm. 

“Howard is working on something to help him, but it will take time.” Steve explains, “I can stay if you need help.” You looked at your husband, in desperate need of a real bath and some solid food, before back at his friend. 

“I’ll let you know.” 

The work that kept you busy while he was gone, kept you busy while he was recovering. You know he doesn’t mean it. The anger. The lashing out. But you couldn’t help mourn the loss of the sweet and gentle man you’d married. 

“I can do it.” He’d snap. Trying to button his shirt. 

“Get out.” He’d bite. While you helped him bathe. 

“Just give me some fucking space.” He’d knocked over his plate trying to cut his own food. So you let him do it, you left the room, and you gave him some space. Crying into the fabric of the dresses that were currently your only income. 

His family visit. Sometimes once a day. Sometimes they would skip a day. Their voices carrying throughout the house. Asking him how he was. Winnie brought cakes and dishes to help ease the stress of cooking. George talked to him as though nothing was wrong. And he was soft and fond with the girls. 

It hurt. You didn’t know what you were doing wrong. How you ended up on the other end of his anger while his family got his soft words and thank-yous. 

“How has it really been?” Winnie asked, helping you clean the dishes. Bucky did pretty well during dinner. He let his Mom cut his food, his hands were shaking less. You sigh, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth and looking over your shoulder at the group in the den. Bucky in his armchair, a sad smile pulled onto his lips as Becca, now a young woman since he’d last seen her, told him all about her science fair. 

“It’s been hard.” You admit, “But it’ll be okay,” A fake smile, “Everyday he gets a little better.” It wasn’t untrue. His right hand was more sure, less shaky. He could move himself around the house, and he could bathe on his own. But he was still choosing to sleep in the chair and you were still left alone to cry at night. 

He was still choosing to be alone and distance himself from you and you couldn’t tell her that. You hadn’t even told Steve and Bucky wasn’t going to begin to tell anyone that he wasn’t sleeping in the same bed as his wife, let alone that you still hadn’t shared a kiss since the day he’d left you. 

But maybe this was part of his process. Maybe he just needed time to heal. It’ll get better. It has to. 

The house, after the family emptied out and was just the two of you, took on a heavy weight. The joy from the girls was gone. Winnie and George were no longer a buffer between you and your husband. He was quiet. That sad smile he’d been wearing was gone. Face blank and staring at the wall across from him. 

You stand in the doorway, and quietly ask, “Would you like more coffee?” The cup by his side is long since empty. His voice terse, almost annoyed, 

“No.” Your heart clenches in your chest and you nod, blinking away the tears. You enter the room, betraying his space and begin cleaning up the discarded coffee cups and dessert plates from his family. Quietly and without looking at him. “Can you just…” He rubbed his eyes, “Can you just fucking leave it?” The dishes clattered back onto the coffee table as you turned to him. 

“I’m just cleaning up-”

“You’re always fucking cleaning up,” He groans, “The dishes, dusting the fucking drapes, fluffing pillows. Just leave it.” You sigh, stepping towards him,

“What did I do?” You ask. “What can I do to help you?” His eyes met yours in a glare. “I try to do everything you ask me to do.” Your eyes welling with tears in frustration, “I’m around too often, I’m not around enough.” Bucky stands from the chair, less than a foot away. “I don’t know what to do to help you.”

“Do nothing!” He yells, the vein in his neck standing out, “I’m sick of you pitying me and trying to do everything for me. Just fucking leave.” Your face flushed and hot,

“The only person giving you pity is yourself.” You spit, “You sit in that chair and feel sorry for yourself all day while I’m just trying to help you out of it.” 

“I don’t need you to help me out of it.” The volume increasing. 

“I’m your wife, what am I supposed to do?” His right hand gripped your upper arm, hard enough to make you gasp and pulled you from the den, releasing once he’d shoved you into the foyer. The den’s french doors. The ones that you fell in love with when buying the house were then slammed in your face. The curtains on them pulled shut. 

The sob that he heard you release on the other side of the door made him sick. He grabbed the small stack of plates you set on the coffee table and slammed them on the ground before screaming and sitting back down heavily in his chair. His belly bubbling with bile and guilt. 

Why couldn’t he just get over it? Why couldn’t he just tell you that he appreciates and loves you? That he’s sorry for being such an asshole. 

Why won’t you just leave him? You deserve better. You should just go. 

His palm burned with the guilt of knowing how hard he just grabbed you. He could remember Mateo doing the same thing. The bruise that man left on your arm. He could remember kissing it as if it would just disappear under his touch. And now he probably just left a similar bruise. 

He sighed heavily, wiping the tears off his face before standing and going to grab the broom and dust pan. It was difficult. And a lot of cursing followed, the struggle to hold the broom and dust pan with his foot, cleaning up the shattered ceramic. 

He didn’t want you to leave, not really. And he shouldn’t have exploded on you. He sat in the living room, he’ll fix this. Somehow. 

The next morning you woke up groggy and with a splitting headache. You felt dehydrated. You slipped your robe on and fixed the errant roller that seemed to want to slip out of your scarf and made your way downstairs. Your heart started racing when you saw the french doors open. 

There was a burnt smell in the air and a quick panic made you think you left the stove on last night, but when you stepped into the kitchen you took a pause. Bucky’s back was to you, almost like you’d find him years before. Next to him was a pile of semi-burned pancakes. You hesitated in the doorway. Your arm ached slightly, the robe covering up the blooming bruise. 

He could sense you there, and turned to look at you, mouth dropping into a frown. You took a step back and the frown pulled deeper. 

“Dahlin,” He dropped the spatula in his hand, turning the stove off and stepping around the table acting as a kitchen island. He came closer and watched you take a step back away from him. “I uh…” You could feel tears already and cursed yourself for being so emotional, “I’m sorry.” He stopped a foot away from you, eyes glassy, “I’m so sorry baby, I should have never…” A tear rolled down his cheek and stepped closer, bringing his right hand to gently rest on your shoulder, trailing his fingers to your neck, “I’ve been horrible to you and I know it’s not okay, I just…” 

“I’m just trying to help you.” You whimper, his thumb tracing your lower lip. He nods, 

“I know,” another tear and a deep breath, “There’s no excuse for how I’ve been treating you mi amor.” His thumb tugs on your bottom lip, “I don’t deserve you.” He rests his forehead against yours, “I knew that before, but now… I can’t even…” 

“James.” You pull away from him, taking a step back, “I love you, more than anything.” The bags under his eyes were darker than yesterday, “I’m your wife… and I was just happy you came back alive.” A lot of women were not as fortunate. He nods, looking down at the floor before wrapping his arm around your back and pulling you into his chest. 

“I’ll do better.” He whispers into your hair. “I promise.” 

That first kiss was syrupy and sweet. But long overdue. His bottom lip chapped against yours, he met your lips again and again. Tongue coming out to brush against your bottom lip and head tilting to consume. 

“I missed you so much.” He whispered. You’re a breath away, eyes unfocused and head dizzy, 

“I missed you too.”

The bed that went unused by him until now was too soft, he could feel himself sink into the mattress further with every roll of your hips. Soft gasps and sighs, the grip of you around his aching cock was hard to ignore, he wished he could have held your hips with both hands. The way he was used to, but this feeling was incomparable. 

He’d forgotten what it was like. 

Your curls sweat out and forgotten down your back. The thick strands he used to bury both hands in while he thrust above you. He settled on his right hand holding your hip as tightly as he could. Your hips rolling in a smooth rhythm that already brought him over once. His erection hadn’t gone down, but you also hadn’t cum yet. He braced his legs against the bed and thrust upward, your back arching and breasts pushing forward as he found the spot he was looking for, refreshing his memory. 

You were a vice grip around him as you came and brought him to follow, gasping against your damp skin as you lay over him, haphazard thrusts through the aftershocks. 

…

The same facility Bucky had initially recovered in was one of Howard Stark’s private properties, a sprawling lab you’d only seen three rooms of. Until now. 

Howard Stark you remember from the Expo. Handsome and suave, surrounded by women and a quick thinker. 

It seemed as though that wasn’t just his on stage persona. 

“Rogers, Barnes.” He greeted the boys before turning his attention to you, “Mrs. Barnes,” A sly grin, “Is there any convincing I could do to make you become Mrs. Stark?” Your mouth dropped open and eyes darted to Bucky.

“I’m right here, Howard.” Bucky’s hand slipped into yours and brought you tightly into his side. The grin never leaving Howard’s lips he continued, 

“She’s too beautiful for you Barnes.” He joked, “She should be on stage with me.” Steve laughed at Bucky’s clear discomfort, laying a hand on his shoulder as he followed Howard into the lab. 

“What did you call us down here for?” He asked. Bucky was sat in a chair before Howard brought out some metal contraption. 

“I’m gonna build our friend here a new arm.” A deep breath heard by all. 

“A new one?” You asked, confused. The metal contraption was basically a metal tube with a joint ¼ down the tube, wires in between. 

“How would that even work?” Bucky asked. Howard gave him a serious look.

“What I have here is the first prototype of many.” He explains, “It’s going to be painful and a long process, but I think if we work together on this we can get a working prosthesis that connects to your nerves and allows you to have full feeling in the arms, all the way down to your fingers.” Steve examined it, as crude as the thing was it was only the beginning of what Howard planned to do. 

“Let’s do it.” Bucky was quick to answer and ready. 

The screams. You had to leave the room and step outside. Bucky assured you he was fine, that this had to be done, but you couldn’t be in the room another minute while he was subjected to that pain. 

It was bad enough when he’d wake up with nightmares, shirt completely soaked through, or the phantom limb pain that seemed to come and go in waves. This was an entirely different level. 

“Would you like one?” A smooth voice spoke. You turned to see a woman in a dress suit, her hair perfectly curled, cigarette poised between her fingers. You take the lit cigarette she offers, leaning back against the wall of the building. 

“Thank you.” She smiles. 

“Steve and James talk a lot about you.” You look at her and she continues, “Sorry, I’m Margaret Carter, but everyone calls me Peggy.” Her hand out to shake, you shook her hand. 

“I’m Y/N Barnes.” She grins. 

“When I first met James you were all he talked about.” She breathed out a cloud of smoke, “He really loves you, I hope you know that.” Like she knew all the struggles the two of you were going through and aimed to soothe. “When he was hurt,” She says, “The first thing he said was to make sure you were taken care of… he didn’t think he was going to survive, but to be fair, neither did we.” 

“I’m happy he did.” Peggy smiles.

“So are we.” 

Ginny was married in the fall. The leaves just beginning to change she took her vows in the aftermath of Hiroshima and the end of what they were calling World War Two. There were only a few glares and negative comments over the fact that you were in her bridal party. 

The revelation that you weren’t hired help but the wife of James Barnes was startling to most. Some, the women who’d been in your house while you fit their daughters with dresses, didn’t seem to mind. They’d seen that wedding photo above your sofa and hadn’t said a word about it. 

“She’s beautiful.” You remark to Bucky, watching as Ginny and her new husband Daniel had their first dance. 

“I feel like I’ve missed so much.” He whispers against your neck, placing a kiss there softly. “Ginny is married, Ruth might be married by this time next year,” The boy crazy Ruth found herself infatuated with a man fresh from war, he was sweet and only joined near the end. As Bucky would say, “He lucked out.” But how lucky could you really be at war? “Suzy is almost done with school and Becca…” His favorite, “She’s almost done too.” She was sixteen and while she wasn’t showing a keen interest in boys, Bucky still wasn’t ready to let go of his baby. Not yet. 

“You haven’t missed everything.” You assured him, his arm was around your waist, your back leaning against his chest as you watched others join the newlyweds on the dance floor. Bucky had a temporary dummy left arm on tonight, useless but it made him feel more normal. His right arm traced patterns on your belly as you both enjoyed the music. “James.” You look at him, a soft happy smile on his face. His eyes meet yours and he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“Yes mi amor?” Another kiss.

“I’m pregnant.” 

.

.

.

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[aussiemumsadventures]

When it comes to French doors and privacy, there are only so many options. I started researching some of them when we installed our French doors on our house here in Virginia. We have a larger lot (over 2 acres) and are surrounded by woods, but in the winter, the trees take their deciduous steps and distant neighbours have now got much better views into your domain. This bothers me, particularly at night when it is so dark outside and the house is lit up like a small supernova. I definitely like my privacy. What to do on a budget? Well, given I had no clue how to make French Door curtains, I purchased some and they’re fabulous and cost about $30.

We have another set of French doors in our basement and it has always bothered me that my kids could be down there playing (the video gaming is set up down there) and anyone can see into those doors too. I had originally planned to buy another set of the same style of curtains for down there, but then I remembered I actually have a ton of curtains from our various moves – yes, when you move like we do, you acquire so many things – some of which are a metallic Grey and would match the decor down there absolutely perfectly! The curtains I had purchased (pictured) looked very easy to copy the style of, so with a few modifications, I set out to repurpose my existing curtains into practical ones for the French door.

The first thing I did was measure the window opening in the door to ensure the curtains I had were long enough, they were. Then it was a matter of taking approximate measurements of the existing French door curtains to match up my gray ones. I measured the width of the curtain and realized I had to cut quite a lot off it. This is a little scary mind you as you are ruining, I mean restyling, something perfectly good. I found the best thing to do was to measure all the way down putting a small sharpie mark along the length then getting a ruler and joining these marks together, then it was just a matter of biting the bullet and cutting (if I ruined them, well I did have another back up pair that weren’t so perfect but would do). I made my curtains 26″ (66cm) wide with a half inch hem on the side that needed a new hem. Therefore, my marks were made at 26 1/2 inches (67.3 cm) across ensuring the 4 circles (normally what would go on a rod) became the feature top of my French door curtains and were evenly spaced on both sides.

With the length I cut off, I measured the amount I would need to make the two pieces that velcroed together, holding the entire curtain up when you wanted to allow daylight in. I did screw up a little bit here as I didn’t take into account the fact that the second piece wouldn’t have any hem on either end, don’t do what I did, make that second piece a fraction longer, it will make life easier and save a burnt finger when it comes to ironing that hem on. I made each of these pieces 19 1/4 ” (49cm) by 2 1/2 ” (6.35cm) PLUS hem – important you don’t forget to factor this in.

I didn’t even tell you that I wanted to do this entire project without sewing! I had lots of iron-on hemming tape and thought it would be perfect for this job.

If you have never used hemming/bonding tape, basically you use an iron to melt it together, ergo bond the fabric together at your given hemline. The iron has to be hot (so the fabric you use has to be capable of withstanding a reasonably hot iron, and you must turn the steam function off. Be careful not to touch the hemming tape with the hot iron, it will melt immediately and leave a sticky residue on your iron – if this happens, turn iron off and wait to get cold before wiping with a clean cloth that has some rubbing alcohol on it (I do not know this from experience ;)). I decided to double hem my edges because I wanted a clean ‘finished’ look, it did mean a lot more work but it looks better in my opinion. One other thing I did was to cut the hemming tape in half lengthwise as it fitted each of my little, narrow hems much better like that.

Once everything was hemmed and ironed, I folded the front of the curtain over so it gave my front a more professional finish, I used more hemming tape at the top to secure these two folds together.

I then joined the two pieces on to the back of the French door curtain like so (I pinned everything in place after I had measured it and before I permanently attached it so I could be sure it was all going to work and look nice and neat). My strips were attached 6″ in from the edges on each side. Then it was a matter of attaching the Velcro. Again, I didn’t particularly want to sew, not that I can’t, I’m just not very good at it and don’t particularly enjoy it, so I had some sticky back Velcro from another project and just used it. This really is a matter of eyeballing and making sure they will align when joined together. Pinning helps with this too. Finally, it was time to attach a curtain to the French door:

I love how these turned out. They match the decor down here perfectly, I had everything on hand so didn’t actually have to purchase anything and now I know we will have privacy downstairs too!

Would you try this at your house? What do you think of this project? Please come on over to Aussie Mum’s Adventures on FB and like my page: Aussiemumsadventures. You can find me on Twitter: @ozmumsadventures, on Instagram: Ozmumsadventures, on Pinterest: Aussiemumsadventures And please subscribe to my YouTube channel: Aussie Mum’s Adventures (I’m still working on it, so please have patience with me!). Shut the French Door! When it comes to French doors and privacy, there are only so many options. I started researching some of them when we installed our French doors on our house here in Virginia.

[hamlets-ghost-zaddy]

st. jude (the patron of lost causes)

Part 5/8

Donald Malarkey x Reader

The ghosts crowding the corners of your vision, hanging in the dark corners of the hospital tent, under the cots, and behind the cupboards of medical supplies tell you time passes.

As the faces of the soldiers—cheeks soft and rounded with boyhood—fade in detail, you know it’s been days since Buck Compton was packed up into the back of a truck and Malarkey rode back into the Ardennes. The phantom of Buck himself (the ghosts were often undiscerning, not really caring if they were alive or dead, and haunted you regardless) had turned into a smudge of icy blue eyes and pale shocks of hair that you’d swear, if you glanced at his former cot fast enough, he still occupied. So, time has passed; exactly how much, you’d have to ask Constance, but then, it is almost better not to know. So, Malarkey still inhabits a corner of your thoughts, thoughts you’ve disciplined yourself to only turn to in the quiet moments of eating a meal or in the dark moments before you fall into sleep. And, it’s okay, you’re okay (or whatever ‘okay’ means in this damn war.)

You find yourself reaching for St. Jude in the first few days after you give it Malarkey; your fingers brush against the soft cotton of your nursing uniform, against the smooth skin of your collarbone, and for one stomach-yanking, swelling moment, you think you’ve lost it. Yet, the memory will resurface—flooding your senses with rich soil brown eyes and a laugh just how you’d thought it’d be—and those nerves calm. You become entirely calm. And, when you can, you step outside the hospital tent to let your breath fog in front of you, holding your arms tight across your chest, and you look to the tree-line crowding the hospital’s field.

The string—you’ve started to think of it as a string, something that tugs taut when he’s gone and goes slack when he’s near—seems to vibrate, plucked with an invisible hand, when you look at the trees and think that somewhere (maybe a mile away, maybe ten miles away) Malarkey is looking toward the hospital and pretending to see you, too.

It’s Constance, infinite in her facets and multitudes in her wisdom, who tells you.

You’re organizing the supply tent, trying to resort some semblance of order after a swarm of orderlies practically threw the latest replenishment of plasma in without any regard (and you don’t really feel like being yelled at Schroder again, thank you very much). Constance hurries through the tent flap, practically tripping over her feet in her rush. She’s puffing, but manages to get out, “Stop what you’re doing; we’re moving.”

Turning away from digging through a box of plasma, you blink up at her, clipboard falling limply to your side. “What? Seriously? I just finished that side of—” you begin to gripe.

Constance rushes on. “They’ve finally taken Foy.”

“Foy?” you repeat, the name sounding familiar. “And I’m hoping you mean ‘us’ by ‘they.’”

She shoos a hand at you. “Of course I do; our troops, at least. Easy Company,” she concludes, face splitting with a grin. Her eyes are fucking twinkling.

You eye her warily. “Okay?”

“Easy Company,” she repeats, expression slackening slightly when you don’t react. She tsks, tossing her hands. “Oh, come on; it’s the company Lieutenant Compton and your Sergeant serve in. They’ve taken Foy, and they’re on to some other towns today and tomorrow. They’re coming off the line.”

Your stomach does acrobatics at the phrase ‘your sergeant,’ at the thought of Malarkey in the fever pitch of battle for three days in a row over some tiny provincial French villages (you decide with an iron conviction that if Malarkey is hurt while fighting over a goddamn village, you’ll take on the entire German Army and give them a piece of your mind). Tempering the nerves making your voice wobbly, the excitement stoking like a fire in your chest, you manage: “What does this have to do with us moving?”

“Well, we’re following the front,” Constance replies practically, not to be put out by your sensible response. “So, they move, we move.” Your lips twitch, a barely repressed grin, and Constance beams. She steps to your side, squeezing your hand and you squeeze back. You both look around at the heaps of supplies around us.

You say: “Let’s get going moving this shit, then.”

The locations of the evacuation hospitals are a continuous parade of fields with crackling dried grass underfoot and thin, gray-barked trees standing sentry at the perimeter. The new location isn’t any different.

Your shepherding the few new patients already received from the line—all the ones you had before were moved on to a field hospital, no point hauling them along with the cots and pillows and threadbare blankets and crates upon crates of red-cross emblazoned medical supplies—when an orderly roars up in Jeep. “Nurse!” he calls, waving to get your attention as he takes a flying leap from the Jeep.

(It takes a mighty feat of restraint to keep from rolling your eyes; the hotshot’s going to hurt himself driving and throwing himself around like that.)

“A moment, Private,” you reply, waving a corporeal to a cot near the door and settling him before turning back to the orderly. Only to yourself would you admit you enjoyed making Jeep-driving orderlies wait on you. They always came roaring into the hospital, a Hermes with ill omens on their heels, hat akimbo as if they thought it made them look dashing. Only after you’ve fixed the corporeal with a second pillow, a generous serving of stew, and a glass of watery lemonade, you turn to the orderly, hands in your uniform pockets. “What can I do for you, Private?”

He perks up. God, he’s young. “You’re needed on the line, ma’am.” Pausing, he tacks on, as if you protested: “Nowhere dangerous, of course. A convent where some guys are staying for the evening.”

“What’s the injury?” you ask.

The orderly hesitates, worrying his hat in his hands.

“Out with it, Private.”

He coughs and finally manages: “Shot in the, uh, bottom, ma’am. The medic says it needs stitches, but doesn’t have the supplies.”

“Right,” you reply, carefully clinging to your professionalism for fear of laughing. Someone getting shot is never a laughing matter (even if it is the ass). Still, you can’t wait to tell Constance. “I’ll grab some supplies to give this medic, my bag, and I’ll be ready to go.”

The Jeep skids to a stop in the yard of a gray-stone abbey an hour or so after dusk, and you grind your teeth to keep from admonishing the orderly for his driving. You feel like your brain has been whisked around in your skull.

Between clenched teeth, you say, “Thank you, Private.” Clambering down from the Jeep, you could kiss the ground. Instead, you content yourself with arranging your medicine bag’s strap on your shoulder and lean to grab the box of supplies for this company’s medic.

“Sure thing, ma’am,” the orderly replies. “Do you want me to wait for you, ma’am?”

“If you’re not needed elsewhere, I’d appreciate it,” you reply, wanting to point out that, if he didn’t wait, you’d be literally stranded. Politely, you keep this to yourself, and turn away as the orderly turns off the Jeep’s engine, lounging back and (by the looks of it) readying for a nap.

Gusting out a sigh, you crunch across the convent’s gravel yard and into the main abbey. The inside is modest, a choir singing behind the pulpit and—music, it’s been months since you heard music. You stop, closing your eyes and sighing as the women’s voices soak into your ears, your mind, your heart. They’re singing in French, but the language doesn’t matter. It’s universal.

A cough near you, and you open your eyes to the rest of the church. A collection of soldiers—haggard, streaked in mud and sweat and flecks of dried blood—are draped on the pews, in the choir loft, all sleeping or on the verge of it. They look hollow, completely empty inside their drab green uniforms, and you’ve only seen shadows like those living on their faces on the soldiers who came through the hospital with a diagnosis of battlefield fatigue. You want to help, yet, your eyes catching on a man propped up on a stretcher next to a pale-skinned medic, you only have time for the one. There’s never time for saving everyone, and physical wounds are easiest to heal.

You go to stand before the medic, announcing yourself with a gentle: “Hey. I’m Nurse Y/N.”

He blinks up at you, mouth twitching into a fleeting smile. You wonder when the last time he smiled was. In a low drawl, lower than you expected from such a slight, pale man, he replies, “Good to see you. I’m Roe.”

The man on the stretcher at Roe’s shoulder props himself up on his elbows, a grin quirking up along with a thick, Italian eyebrow. “And I’m Frank.”

“Nice to meet you both,” you say, before nodding to the box of supplies in your arms. “These are for you, Roe. The orderly mentioned you were low on supplies.” His eyes spark as they look at the box, and he accepts it with eager hands. His barely-contained joy reminds you of a teenager on Christmas, attempting to pent up a boyish delight with a perceived dignity. You offer: “Everything I could get my hands on: morphine, sulfa, bandages, plasma, surgery thread, some extra scissors and needles, too.”

His head perks up to you.

Not sure what that expression means, you add: “I hope you won’t need it much, though. I hear you’re coming off the line.”

Roe nods. “Yeah, that’s the word but I really appreciate this still.” He gestures with the box.

“Don’t thank me,” you say, the sincerity in his voice making you shift. You determinedly face Frank, presumably the man shot in the, uh, ‘bottom.’ “Are you the soldier I was sent to patch up?”

Frank, without a measure of abashment, says, “Guilty, ma’am.”

You snort, you can’t help it in the face of his bravado, before asking Roe, “Standard procedure?”

“Sure: sulfa, bandages. Sewed him yesterday morning, but the stitches tore,” Roe says, mouth twisting with regret and you know he blames himself for causing Frank more pain.

Your fingers twitch at your side, wanting to rest a comforting hand on Roe’s shoulder. You bury your hands in the fold of your skirts to keep your hands at your side. “Good, well, we’ll get you patched up and moving again, Frank. Get you off this stretcher.”

The convent’s abbess shows you, Roe, and Frank to a cloister brightened by a heavy candelabra stand blazing with candles. It’s more than enough light—and privacy—to sew up Frank’s ass wound (done without blushing on your part, with an extraordinary amount of puns on Frank’s part, and multiple chuckles and put-upon head-shakes on Roe’s part). When you’re done, you wash your stitching needle from a basin provided by the abbess before sterilizing it over one of the candle flames.

Roe assists Frank in arranging himself before going to fetch another man to help with Frank’s stretcher.

Frank watches you as you move around the cloister, eyes tracking how you pass the needle through the flames. “What are you doing?” he asks after a beat.

“Sterilizing the needle,” you reply. “It helps kill germs and makes it clean to use for another ass injury.” You throw a grin over his shoulder.

He snorts, shaking his head. “Do you have specific needles you only use for ass injuries?”

Quite seriously, you assure, “Of course. I have a whole box of needles labeled ‘ass, toes, fingers, nose.’”

Frank hoots at that before cutting himself off with a groan. You frown, moving to his side but he waves a hand at your concern, settling to lay on his back. “Don’t worry about it, just a little pain but it’s gone now.” He folds his hands on his stomach, shooting you a grin before his eyes rove back to the ceiling. Silence as you stow away the needle and the other supplies used. Then: “How did you get to being a nurse?”

You still, fingers suspended, and turn the question over in your head: how did you get to being a nurse?

“I…” you begin, only to sputter into silence. “I...” No words come. You can’t remember what took you to the Army Nurse Corp recruitment center nearly two years ago.

Roe returns then, followed by two men, their faces shadowy beyond the reach of the candlelight. One of the men steps forward to grab one end of the stretcher as Roe gets the other, and you maneuver your way into a corner of the cloister to allow them space to finagle the stretcher out and Frank on it. You wave a hand to Frank as he calls his thanks to you, shaking your head as he sings your praises as ‘the smartest, most talented nurse in the whole damn war.’

Only when the stretcher is out of sight, the cloister falling to silence, that you realize the second man still stood in the shadows. You squint against the gloom, but can’t distinguish his features. “Soldier?” you say. “Is there something I can do for you? Are you injured?”

A pause. He steps into the light.

A breath, halfway down to your lungs, rattles and cuts painfully short in your throat.

“Don,” you manage to get out when you remember how to breathe. Later, you’ll try to remember who moved first, because his arms are around you before you can think of another word, your nose is pressed into the lapel of his uniform, your fingers buried in the folds of his uniform. Into his chest, you whisper, “You’re safe, you’re safe, thank God, you’re safe.”

His nose is against your hair, his breath hot against your forehead, and the string between you is entirely slack. Entirely at ease. Memories no longer flood your senses; instead, it’s his physical presence—the solid goodness of him being so near—and you both allow time to drag by, taking minutes with it. The weeks between when you saw him last feel like an instant and a yawning expanse all at once. How can I live without him? you wonder, eyes closed and memorizing the feeling of his chest rising and falling under your ear. How can I, when I know now what his arms around me feels like?

He’s the next to speak. “I’ve lost so many people. So many friends.”

You want to look into his face, you want to check how many ghosts you see there, but his arms are tight around your ribs and you don’t want to pull away for anything. What he needs from you isn’t a nurse to diagnosis the horrors he’s seen and deduce the amount of sympathy and care to dole out. So, you move your arms around his neck; the twin chains of his icon and St. Jude’s necklace are slivers of coolness against your skin. His fingers bury into the blue cotton of your uniform, and he clings to you desperately. You cling to him, equally as desperate.

“I saw them die; a shell fell directly on their foxhole and…”

‘And nothing was left,’ is implied. Nothing left for Malarkey to grasp tightly in his hands, in his heart, and remember them by. The only thing that remained, the only indication of their lives, was a burnt-out foxhole. You remember that feverish expression he wore last time you saw him, and wondered how recently the loose of his friends had been.

You don’t say you’re sorry—though you are—because you’d just be repeating yourself. He knows you hurt for him by your hands against his neck, your body pressed against his, and words would be entirely redundant. Tears, tepid and heavy, seep into your hair as his shoulder begin to shake, and you let him cry into you. You will hardness into your arm muscles, so he’ll feel their weight and now you’re here—you’re not going anywhere—and he can cry into you as long as he needs.

When his shoulders still, slouching with the effort of silent sobs, you move your fingers to tangle into his hair, pressing a kiss against the skin just above St. Jude’s icon. He stills, his arms going rigid, and then a wave floods his limbs, making his droop and melt under your lips. He presses a kiss against your forehead.

It’s appropriate you’re in a church, tucked away into the dark recesses of a holy sanctuary, because you send a silent song of thanks to St. Jude, to anyone listening, for the perfectness of being in his arms. For the goodness of Malarkey, for allowing you to comfort him and him to comfort you.

(You could curse the orderly, bumbling and loud and calling your name, that he had to get going and you needed to, too, if you wanted a ride. You draw out of Malarkey’s arms, feeling like you were tearing away a part of yourself from a whole, and see your regret reflected back in his eyes.)

[neverforgetyourdreams442]

This or That

Fish or steak? - Fish

Eggs or oatmeal? - Eggs

Coffee or tea? - Coffee

Coke or Pepsi? - Pepsi

Beer or mixed drinks? - Mixed drinks

Juice or water? - Water

White or wheat bread? - White

Cake or donuts? - Donuts

Vanilla or chocolate? - Chocolate

Ice cream or sherbet? - Ice cream

Pork or chicken? - Chicken

Bacon or sausage? - Bacon

Scrambled eggs or over easy? - Over easy

Over easy or poached eggs? - Over easy

Cream and sugar or black coffee? - Black coffee

Well done or rare? - Well done

Corn or peas? - Corn

Salad or squash? - Salad

Green beans or broccoli? - Green beans

Black beans or kidney beans? - Black beans

Pinto or Lima beans? - Pinto beans

Frozen veggies or canned? - Canned

Pancakes or waffles? - Pancakes

Pastries or confectionaries? - Pastries

Burgers or seafood? - Seafood

Food truck or diner? - Diner

Ginger ale or Sprite? - Sprite

Orange soda or Grape?- Grape

Trail mix or candy bar? - Candy bar

Payday or 5th avenue? - Payday

Reese’s peanut butter cup or Hershey’s bar? - Reese’s

Almond Joy or Snickers? - Snickers

Three Musketeers or Peppermint Patty? - Three Musketeers

O’Henry or Baby Ruth? - Baby Ruth

Apples or bananas? - Bananas

Oranges or peaches? - Peaches

Watermelon or plums? - Watermelon

Cantaloupe or grapefruit? - Cantaloupe

Cake or pie? - Cake

Pastries or cookies? - Pastries

Hash browns or home fries? - Home fries

Jello or pudding? - Pudding

Cherry or raspberry? - Raspberry

Grape or orange? - Grape

Lime or blueberry? - Blueberry

Slim Jim or Jerky? - Slim Jim

Cupcake or Dingdong? - Cupcake

Swiss cake or Hoho? - Hoho

Gum or Lifesavers? - Gum

Tic-tac or Altoids? - Tic-tac

Tootsie rolls or Skittles? - Skittles

Licorice or fruit roll ups? - Fruit roll ups

Popcorn or peanuts? - Popcorn

Hot pretzels or nachos? - Hot pretzels

Grilled or pan fried? - Pan fried

Deep fried or baked? - Baked

Apple or cherry pie? - Neither

Sugar or chocolate chip cookies? - Chocolate chips

Pumpkin or blueberry? - Blueberry

Pie or cobbler? - Pie

Breaded or plain? - Breaded

Iced or hot coffee? - Hot coffee

Hot or iced tea? - Iced tea

Sweetened tea or unsweetened? - Sweetened

Chinese or Italian? - Chinese

Indian or Thai? - Thai

American or Mexican? - Mexican

Sweet or sour? - Sour

Eat in or dine out? - Dine out

Cook at home or take out? - Cook at home

Cheeseburger or calamari? - Cheeseburger

Hot dog or taco? - Hot dog

Stew or chili? - Stew

Sweet potato or French fries? - French fries

Baked potato or onion rings? - Onion rings

Ketchup or mustard? - Ketchup

Mayo or salad dressing? - Salad dressing

Sandwich or soup? - Soup

Ribs or wings? - Wings

Family run or chain restaurant? - Family run

Cook out in backyard or catered? - Cook out

Wine or beer? - Wine

Jack Daniels or Jim Beam? - Jack Daniels (In food only)

Irish coffee or plain coffee? - Plain coffee

Orange juice or grapefruit juice? - Neither

Re-fried beans or rice? - Rice

Tacos or chicken parmigiana? -  chicken parmigiana

Pizza or subs? - Pizza

Peanuts or almonds? - Peanuts

Cashews or hazelnut? - Hazelnut

Walnuts or sunflower seeds? - Walnuts

Garlic or onion? - Onion

Bagels or English muffins? - Bagels

Poppy seed or onion rolls? - Onion roll

Cinnamon or blueberry bagels? - neither

Everything or sesame seed bagels? - Sesame seeds

Thousand Island or Ranch? - Ranch

Catalina or vinaigrette? -  vinaigrette

Onion dip or bacon horseradish dip? - Onion dip

Cheese fries or chili fries? - Cheese fries

French fries or onion rings? - French fries

Cheese and crackers or pretzels? - Pretzels

Chips with dip or vegetables and dip? - Chips with dip

Fruit or vegetables? - Fruit

Dinner rolls or croissant rolls? - Croissant rolls

Biscuits or bread? - Bread

Whole wheat or rye? - Whole wheat

Whole grain or white? - White

Corn muffin or blueberry? - Corn muffin

Pastrami or bologna? - Bologna

Italian sub or ham and cheese? -  Italian sub

Turkey and cheese or roast beef sub? - Turkey and cheese

Sub roll or ciabatta roll? - Sub roll

Sour cream and onion chips or barbecue? - Barbecue

Cheddar and sour cream or salt and vinegar? - Cheddar and sour cream

Corn chips or Doritos? - Doritos

Rice crispies or Corn flakes? - Rice crispies

Raisin bran or granola? - Granola

Cheerios or corn puffs? - Corn puffs

Apple jacks or fruit loops? - Fruit loops

Cold cereal or oatmeal? - Cold cereal

Drip coffee or instant? - Drip coffee

Perked coffee or tea? -  Perked coffee

Carnation instant breakfast or protein smoothie? - Protein smoothie

Breakfast bar or Slimfast? - Breakfast bar

Breakfast pizza or breakfast sandwich? - Breakfast sandwich

Pancakes or muffins? - Pancakes

Ihop or Wafflehouse? - Ihop

Denny’s or Crackerbarrel? - Denny’s

Outback or Texas Roadhouse? - Outback

Boston Market or Bob Evans? - Bob evans

PLEASURE

Action movies or dramas? - Action

Comedy or thrillers? - Comedy

Romantic or documentaries? - Romantic

Reality or fiction? - Fiction

Family or adult movies? - Family

Netflix or Hulu? - Netflix

Cable or satellite? - Cable

Watch live or recorded so you don’t have to watch commercials? - Watch recorded

Television or book? - TV

Detective novels or super heroes? - Super heroes

ADVENTURE BEGINS HERE

Romance novels or spy novels? - Romance 

Horror stories or mysteries? - Mysteries

John Wayne or Clint Eastwood? - Clint Eastwood

Bruce Willis or Harrison Ford? - Bruce Willis

Mark Harmon or Tom Selleck? - Mark Harmon

Don Johnson or Eric Estrada? - Don Johnson

Mark Wahlberg or Shemar Moore? - Mark

Erin Gray or Catherine Bell? - Catherine

Sybil Sheppard or Michelle Pfeiffer? - Michelle 

Jodie Foster or Markie Post? Jodie

Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio or Sela Ward? Sela Ward

Reese Witherspoon or Kirsten Dunst? Reese

Rock or country? - Rock

Pop or reggae? - Pop

Choose classical or rap? - Rap

Smooth jazz or techno? - Smooth Jazz

Standards or classic country like Johnny Cash? - Classic

Nickelback or Rush? - Nickelback

Miranda Lambert or Madonna? - Madonna

Kenny G or Bob Marley? - Bob Marley

Reo Speedwagon or New Kids on the Block? - New kids on the block

Regular radio or satellite? - Regular radio

Stephen King or John Grisham? - Stephen King

Nora Roberts or Heather Graham? - Heather

Spy or supernatural book or movie/TV? - Supernatural  movie

Vince Flynn or Tom Clancy? - Vince

Bound book or Ebook? - Bound book

Newspaper or online news blog? - Online news blog

Play or musical? - Play

Dancing or cooking classes? - Cooking classes

Concert or play? - Concert

Massage or facial? - Massage

Pretty Little Liars or Real Housewives? - PLL

IZombie or Lucifer? - Never watched it

Ncis or Criminal Minds? - NCSI

2 and Half Men or 2 Broke Girls? - Never watched it

Friends or How I met your mother? - HIMYM

Law and Order or LA Law? - Never watched it

Agents of Shield or Arrow? - Arrow

Arrow or Legends of Tomorrow? - Arrow

Scandal or the Family? - Scandal

Batman or Superman? - Superman

Spiderman or the Hulk? - Spiderman

ABC or CBS? - ABC

Fox or NBC? - Fox

CW or PBS?- CW

Bowling or theater? - Theater

Paint ball or arcade? - Arcade

Crocheting or knitting? - Crocheting

Cards or board games? - Board games

Carnival or circus? - Circus

Roller coasters or ferris wheel? - Roller coaster

Woodworking or leather working? - Woodworking

Darts or pool? - Darts

Gardening or walking? - Gardening

FASHION AND STYLE

Jeans and tee or a suit? - Jeans and tee

Dress or pants? - Pants

Formal or casual? - Casual

Sneakers or dress shoes? - Sneakers

Sandals or high heels? - Sandals

Make up or none? - Makeup

Black or white décor? - White

Formal dining room or family dining room? - Family

Elegant or casual interior? - Elegant

Eclectic or organized interior? - Organized

Open floor for living, dining, kitchen area or separated by walls and doors? - Separated by walls

Leather or fabric? - Leather

Sneakers or sandals? - Sneakers

Flip flops or water shoes? - Flip Flops

Paintings or photos? - Paintings

Black and white or color? - Color

Drapes or blinds? - Blinds

Plants or collectibles? - Plants

Chandelier or lamps? - Chandelier

Paper or paneling? - Paper

Paint or paper? - paint

Rugs or hardwood floors? - Hardwood floors

Modern or rustic? - Modern

Retro or antique? - Retro

Ranch style or two-story home? - Two-story home

Farmhouse kitchen or galley style? - Galley style

Car or truck? - Car

SUV or minivan? - SUV

GMC or Chevy? - GMC

Ford or Dodge? - Ford

Cadillac or Chrysler? - Cadillac

Kia or Saturn? - Kia

A-frame or bungalow house plan? - Bungalow

Hunyadi or Nissan? - Nissan

Audi or BMW? - BMW

Ferrari or Jaguar? - Ferrari

Ducati or Harley? - Ducati

European or lake front style home? -  Lake front

Riding mower or push? - Riding mower

Apartment or home? - Home

Work boots or cowboy boots? - Work boots

Country or city? - Both

Rural or suburban? - Suburban

Farm or just an acre or two? - Farm

Neutral colors or bold? - Neutral colors

Stoneware or China? - China

Colonial or cottage style home? - Colonial

Candles or wax melts? - Candles

Fireplace or furnace? - Fireplace

Wicker or wood? - Wood

Metal or wood? Wood

Wood or gas for a cook stove? - Gas

Tudor or Victorian style home? -  Victorian style

Stainless steel or colors such as white or black appliances? - Stainless steel

Butcher block or granite counter-tops? -  Granite

Stainless steel or Teflon cookware? - Stainless steel

Skylights or mirrored wall? - Skylights

Spiral or straight stairs? - Straight stairs

Shag or tight pile? -  Tight pile

Leather or fabric? - Fabric

Wood or metal and glasses? - Metal

Hardwood chairs or padded? - Padded

Houseboat or yacht? - Yacht

Landscaped yard or just lawn? - Landscaped

Game room or sewing room? - Game room

Farmhouse or shingle style home? - Shingle style

Stainless steel or porcelain sink? - Porcelain sink

Wood cabinets or metal in kitchen? - Wood

Log cabin or contemporary style home? - Contemporary style

Sun porch or deck? - Sun porch

Gas or charcoal grill? - Charcoal

Manicure or make over? - Manicure

SPORTS & FITNESS

Football or baseball? - Baseball

Soccer or hockey? - Soccer

Golf or basketball? - Basketball

Racing or polo? - Polo

Soccer or football? - Soccer

Field hockey or ice hockey? - Ice hockey

Polo or horse racing? - Horse racing

Nascar or drag racing? - Nascar racing

College or pro? - Pro

Touch or tackle football when you play? - Touch

Short stop or third base? - Short stop

First base or outfielder? - First base

Catcher or pitcher? - Catcher

Winger or defenseman? - Defenseman

Goalie or defenseman? - Goalie

Hunting or fishing? - Fishing

Deer or bear? - Bear

Elk or moose? - Moose

Bass or tuna? - Bass

Ocean or lake? - Lake

Lake or river? - River

Skiing or surfing? - Never done it

Xbox or PS? - PS

Multiplayer or single player? - Single Player

Sports or shooter? - Sports

Strategy or puzzle? - Strategy

Pacman or Tetris? - Pacman

Foosball or Ping-Pong? - ping-Pong

Computer or game consoles? - game consoles

Fantasy leagues or playing with your buds? - Playing with buds

Live action role playing or online gaming? - Online gaming

Wrestling or mix martial arts? - Mix martial arts

Bowling or tennis? - Bowling

Poker or chess? - poker

Volley ball or skateboarding? - Volley ball

Cardio or weightlifting? - Weightlifting

Go to gym or home exercise? - Gym

Boats or 4 wheelers? - 4 Wheelers

Walking or jogging? - Walking

Weightlifting or pilates? - Weightlifting

Off road or race track? - Race track

Skiing or snowboarding? - Snowboarding

Sweating to the oldies or playing handball? - Handball

Working out three times a week or every day? - 3 X week

Eating whatever you want or eating healthy to stay in shape? - Whatever I want

Workout alone or with a partner? - With partner

Swimming or reading? - Swimming

Paintball or motocross? - Paintball

BMX racing or hang-gliding? -  BMX

Skateboarding or swimming? - Swimming

Triathlon or marathon running? - Marathon running

Personal trainer or work out alone? - Personal trainer

Nutritionist or make your own meal plan? - Male my own

Skeet shoot or archery? - Archery

TRAVEL

Domestic or international? - International

Drive or fly? - Drive

Plane or boat? - Plane

Amusement park or historical sites? - Amusement park

Train or bus? - Train

Hunting trip or ski resort? - Hunting trip

Tropical or artic? - Tropical

Hot tub or hot springs? - Hot springs

Spring or fall? - Spring

Winter or summer? - Summer

Auctions or closeout sales? - Closeout sales

Performing arts or science? - Performing arts

Grand Canyon or Jelly Stone? - Grand canyon

Marlin fishing or wild boar hunting? - Wild boar hunting

Ghost tour or historical tour? - Historical tour

Art festival or music festival? - Music festival 

Renaissance fair or craft fair? -  Renaissance fair

Flea market or mall? - Mall

Carnival or theme park? - Theme park

Zoo or aquarium? - Zoo

Thunderstorm or snow storm? - Snow Storm

State parks or off the beaten path? - State park

Interstates or back roads? - Back roads

Truck or motorcycle? - Motorcyle

Beach or mountain climbing? - Mountain climbing

Architectural sites or shopping? -  Architectural sites

Hiking or monster truck rally? - Hiking

Spa or gym? - Spa

Nature or indoors? - Nature

Tent or RV? - Tent

Ghost hunting or artifact hunting? - Artifact hunting

A cruise or romantic retreat package? - Romantic retreat

Ireland or Hong Kong? - Hong Kong

Anthropology dig or safari? - Safari

Jamaica or Rio? - Jamaica

Africa or Asia? - Africa

Mexico or Monte Carlo? - Monte Carlo

New York City or Vegas? - Vegas

LA or Atlanta? - LA

Phoenix or St. Louis? -  Phoenix

Portland or Seattle? - Seattle

Boston or Miami? Miami

Time share or motel? - Time share

Rental home or bed and breakfast? - Rental home

Antiquing or Flea markets? - Flea market

Museums or observatory? - Museum

Group travel or alone? - Group travel

WORK

Fireman or policeman? - Fireman

Doctor or nurse? - Doctor

Military or civilian? - Civilian

Boss or worker? - Boss

Lawyer or carpenter? - Lawyer

Plumber or stock market? - Stock market

Taxi driver or bus driver? - Taxi driver

Railroad engineer or mechanical Engineer? - Mechanical 

Wood working or automotive mechanic? - Automotive

Supervisor or hourly employee? - Supervisor

Self-employed or a company man? - Company man

Office work or outside work? - Office work

Work from home or commute to work? - Commute to work

Pilot or ship captain? - Pilot

Electrician or engineer? - Engineer

Author or editor? - Editor

A job you love or one that pays you more money? - A job I love

Fisherman or lumberjack? - Fisherman

Farmer or factory worker? - Farmer

Gas station attendant or sales clerk? - Sales clerk

Government work or private sector? - Private sector

Work on a team or to work alone? - Work on a team

Landscaper or welder? - Landscaper

Fashion designer or interior designer? - Fashion designer

Cosmetologist or CEO of large company? - CEO 

Work in production or work for a company that invents great things to help the world population? - Company that invests

Invent something that would make you rich or save the world population from hunger? - Save world population 

Meetings all day or producing goods? - Producing goods

Working with your hands or with a computer? - With my hands

Working in a store with the public or working in research? - Research

A long commute or a short commute to work? - Short commute

Party planner or printer? - Party planner

Anthropologist or astronomer? -  Anthropologist

Suit and tie or jeans? - Jeans

Coveralls or scrubs? - scrubs

Chef or Maître Di? - Chef

Drug representative or researcher? - Researcher

Cook or waitress? - Cook

Janitor or IT tech? - IT Tech

Banker or stock trader? - Banker

Insurance actuary or detective? - Detective

Street sweeper or sanitation supervisor? - Sanitation supervisor

Telemarketer or appointment setter? - Telemarketer

Secretary or office manager? - Office manager

Physical therapist or psychologist? - Psychologist

Rock star or race car driver? - Rock star

Country singer or professional athlete? - Pro atlhete

Wrestler or football player? - Wrestler

Professional bowler or poker player? - Pro Bowler

Professional league coach or college coach? - Pro League coach

Professional cheerleader or model? - Model

Actor or model? - Actor

Actress or talk show host? - Actress

News anchor or meteorologist? - Meteorologist

Jeweler or seamstress? - Jeweler

Computer programmer or criminologist (CSI)? - CSI

Construction worker or artist? - Artist

Newspaper editor or reporter? - Newspaper editor

Journalist or photographer? - Photographer

Dentist or podiatrist? - Dentist

Medical examiner or emergency doctor? - Medical examiner

Teacher or administrator? - Teacher

Auctioneer or sports caster? - Sports caster

Stock broker or day trader? - Day trader

Author or advertising agent? - Author

Truck mechanic or long haul driver? - Truck mechanic

Salesman or lawyer? - Lawyer

Artist or curator? - Artist

FBI agent or local police? - FBI 

Secret Service or private body guard? - Secret service

Police officer or security guard? - Police officer

PERSONAL CHOICES

Shower or bath? - shower

Clean shaven or facial hair? - It depends

Dog or cat? - dog

Tattoo or piercings? - tattoo

Smoke or chew? - none

Sleep in PJs or nude? - Pjs

Silk or flannel sheets? - idk

Egyptian cotton or silk? - egyptian

Regular bed or waterbed? - Regular bed

Savings or shopping? - both

Night owl or early riser? - night owl

A slacker or an overachiever? - in the middle

3 meals a day or 5 small meals? - 3 meals a day

Silver or gold? - gold

Pen or pencil? - pen

Blonde or Redhead? - blonde

Green or blue eyes? - green

Contacts or glasses? - glasses

Adventurous or cautious? - adventurous

Call or text? - text

Email or snail mail? - email

Long or short hair? - long

Freckles or dimples? - dimples

Shy or outgoing? - outgoing

Automated answering service or speak to a live person? - Live person

Frozen pizza or Dominoes? - Dominos

Pizza hut or Little Caesars? - Pizza hut

Sweater or hoodie? - Hoodie

When hanging toilet paper, over or under? - Under

Blue or red? - Blue

Green or white? - White

Pants or shorts? - Pants

Brains or beauty? - Brains

Date someone older or younger than yourself? - Older

Beads or pearls? - Beads

Mac or PC? - Mac

Take time to style your hair or wear a cap? - Cap

Dye your hair or have natural color? - Natural color

Natural or breast implants? - Breast implants

Give roses or daisies? - roses

Receive roses or daisies? - roses

For a snack something salty or sweet? - salty

Wear leather or lace? - leather

One night stands or an exclusive relationship? - exclusive relationship

Facebook or twitter? - facebook

Charmin or Angel Soft? - charmin

Scrubbing bubbles or Lysol? - lysol

Flower or vegetable garden? - vegetable garden

High tech or low tech? - high tech

Security system or a dog? - security system

A large crowd or a small party? - small party

Telepathy or teleporting? - teleporting

Hero or villain? - hero

Dominate or subservient? - dominate

Money or fame? - money

Encounter ghost or demons? - ghost

Vampires or angels? - angels

A witch or sorcerer? - sorcerer

Pirates or a motorcycle gang? - pirates

Quick temper or to have control? - have control

Kisses or hugs? - kisses

Sugar or spice? - sugar

After shave or cologne? - cologne

Perfume or body spray? - perfume

Healthy or comfort food? - comfort food

Necklace or Bracelet? - bracelet

Structured routine or go with the flow? - go with the flow

Go to the bar or drink at home? - drink at home

Cubed or crushed ice? - cubed

Swimming or sunbathing? - swimming

Sofa or recliner? - recliner

Candle light or lamp light? - candle light

Online or in store shopping? - online shipping

Good Will or Macy’s? - macy’s

Pudding or custard? - pudding

Google or Bing? - google

Roommate a neat freak or a messy person? - roomate a neat freak

Movies at home or in theaters? - theaters

Your nails, long or short? - medium

Home garden or go to farmers market? - go to farmers market

Your day – crazy or sane? - sane

Live in the past or present? - present

Paper or plastic bags? - plastic bags

Open spaces or small closed in areas? - open spaces

For dinning, paper plates or china? - china

Watch sports or play? - play

Wax or shave? - shave

Kids or pets? - kids

Spend time in living room or bedroom? - bedroom

Cremation or burial? - burial

Life support to keep you alive for years or not? - not

A maid or a cook? - maid

Live in a cold or hot area? - hot area

For home pets, hamster or rabbit? - hamster

Pet fish or a lizard? - fish

Christmas or Halloween? - Christmas

Thanksgiving or Easter? - thanksgiving

Memorial Day or St. Patrick’s Day? - memorial day

4th of July or Memorial Day? - 4th July 

New Year’s or Valentines? - new years

American made or imports? - imports

Slippers or barefoot? - slippers

Public library or bookstore? - bookstore

Dunkin Donuts or Tim Horton? - dunkin conuts

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? - dunkin donyts

Whole bean or ground? - ground

Loose leaf or teabag? - loose leaf

Glazed donut or jelly? - glazed 

Cinnamon bun or danish? - danish

Pictionary or charades? - charades

A rainy Sunday in bed or the mall? - in bed

Prepaid or contract cell plan? - prepaid

Girl scouts or boy scouts? - girl scouts

Girl Scout cookies or Keebler’s? - girl scout cookies

Chips Ahoy or Nabisco? - chips ahoy

Wise or lays? - wise

Arby’s or Hardee’s? - hardee’s

College or trade school? - college

Public education or home school? - public education

Straw hat or baseball cap? - baseball cap

Cowboy hat or knit cap? - knit cap

Sunglasses or sun visor? - sunglasses

Elegant or casual dinner? - causal dinner

E-harmony or Match? - neither

Plenty of Fish or Zoosk? - neither

Many causal friends or just a few close friends? - few close friends

Surprise party or theme party? - theme party

Costume party or pool party? - costume party

Luau or pig roast? - luau

Cell phone or landline? - cell phone

Home owner or renter? - home owner

Bubble bath or just a hot soak? - bubble bath

Eye sight or hearing? - hearing

Taste or smell? - taste

Be creative or genius? - creative

Lounge wear or jeans? - jeans

Bikini or one piece? - bikini

Swimming pool or lake? - lake

Strategy games or Bingo? - strategy games

[commapowder53-blog]

Bring barely Of Spring Into home By Forcing Bulbs

Improve quality of air: One among the most important advantages of basic air conditioning units is its ability to improve excellent of air present inside. It draws air into the air handler unit from various corners of the room or building. It really is then passed through an aura filter which removes dust and other pollutants in the gas. It is then supplied to be able to the room through an established of tubes. In this time of technology, display fridges, cool rooms, freezers and other designs of refrigeration are easy to find. Nowadays various styles of refrigerators are introduced: next to each other style, Top refrigerator/bottom freezer style, French door style. Out of desperation, Chase takes refuge in a building of storage lockers, and quickly meets lets start on the storage company's last employee standing, B.J. The storage center is a veritable wonderland of resources in the zombie apocalypse, and N.J. has wasted no time at making the storage center his fortress. Unfortunately for Chase, B.J. isn't eager to include his name to the guest feature. Keep kids from shopping and out repeatedly in heat with the day. Each the door opens, it lets the temperature in and also the cool down. Have them be either in or out, but not back and forth. This project allows one to recycle three things all together. Most women have at least one old handbag which includes seen better days. Perhaps it is no longer fashionable or age-appropriate, but consumption bear to throw it for sentimental reasons. Why not use the purse, a shower curtain liner you've just replaced as well as chopped up take out containers to make a cold storage bag as a substitute .? Remove the purse's existing lining and employ it for a pattern to take out a bit of the shower drape. Next glue a thick layer of the styrofoam pieces all within the inside the purse for insulation and sew the liner in place on top. Styrofoam is nasty business, ecologically using. However, it is cheap and provides insulation, a lot of restaurants in order to use it for their take out and delivery foods. If you're a conscientious recycler who cares in respect to the environment, which put you in a difficult situation. Most recycling centers don't accept it. Usually are places 100 % possible send it to recycle it, but has turn out to be in bulk and possess to to afford the transporting. visit site If you should not have the space to store it till it can be a large enough quantity or even if the extra funds to ship it off once it is, let's consider a cold storage builders couple of alternative ways to reduce, reuse and recycle the styrofoam so it doesn't upward in the landfill. Insulation may be the key by cooling overall performance. It is absolutely vital that the walls and windows of your home aren't leaking air. Lot varieties of cheap weather-stripping tapes available the actual market nowadays. Make use of these kinds of tapes to seal up any cracks in your doors and windows. To make sure that your air conditioning system is operating efficiently you must clean filters on your air conditioning vents a minimum once 30 days. Make sure to lay from the dive entirely. One approach would be to can start the stern prior to entry in the vessel to obtain pictures along the "USS Kittiwake" logo using a stern additionally addition get photographs with screw (propeller) and rudder. For Divers that intend on penetrating the shipwreck, a person have leave the stern keep your way to your top belonging to the ship and go into the funnel is actually not on in the Bridge Deck. If you don't plan on penetrating the wreck it's begin your investigation with the ship on main deckabovethe Propeller.

[mialipsky-blog]

This Wedding is the Prettiest Ode to All Things Blue

Crafted by Jacin Fitzgerald, this Pippin Hill wedding has way too many pretty details to gush over in one little intro. Let’s start with the “Trade Your Tie for a Bowtie” bar (cute!!) or the personalized macarons by Laura Hooper Calligraphy and finish with those sweeping Virginia landscapes. But that’s only the beginning of this French country inspired celebration. Jump into all the stunning imagery captured by Ryan Ray. And if you missed it, take a peak at this couple’s seriously pretty engagement and pre-wedding festivities that include a good ol’ southern clam bake.

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From the Bride… From the minute we got engaged, we knew we wanted to get married at Pippin Hill. We felt it was a perfect representation of the beauty of this special spot in the country where most of our guests had never been before. Fall is our favorite time in Charlottesville, so a September wedding was a no brainer for us. We wanted our wedding décor to have the same feel as the French countryside, with lush, overflowing flowers, woven baskets filled with lavender and herbs, and a rustic yet refined feel.

Working with Jacin was a true dream come true. She completely understood our vision for the wedding, and perfectly transformed the ideas in our head into reality. Working with her on the flowers was one of my favorite experiences from wedding planning, as flowers played such a big part in the décor for the day. I wanted a lush and loose bouquet, and the centerpieces to be low and overflowing flowers as well. We chose lots of champagne, cream, and blush-colored flowers, and the bridesmaids had pops of color in their bouquets. Jacin traveled to Nashville, TN to meet one weekend and pulled together the entire tablescape and flowers that we were going to use at my wedding. It was amazing to be able to see it all together in person and work with her on what I liked, and what I hoped to change. I loved watching her swap flowers in and out right in front of me. It was such an incredible interactive experience that I will never forget.

It was so fun to be able to get ready at Pippin Hill on the morning of our wedding, as we were able to watch Jacin and her team pull together the entire décor for the day. We could see all of the details that we had talked about and planned for the past year and a half come together, which was truly special. My bridesmaids and I had mimosas and were in a fun, celebratory mood all day long. It was a perfect getting-ready day!

We had absolutely stunning overflowing baskets of flowers that were at the entrance to the aisle for our ceremony. As for the ceremony, we wanted to stand at an altar, but did not want to block the incredible views of the mountains behind us—one of the main reasons why we chose to get married at Pippin Hill. Jacin found vintage screen doors that she then draped in flowers and greenery, which blended in beautifully with the natural beauty of our backdrop and made for an absolutely breathtaking altar.

Our wedding ceremony was both my and Ryan’s favorite time from the day. My dad walked me down the aisle to a string version of All I Want Is You by U2, his favorite band. Our dear friend from college officiated wonderfully, and he chose some very special poems and quotes to incorporate that resonated deeply with us. We had a ring warming ceremony, where we passed around our wedding bands through the guests for them to send their love and well wishes into. We also had one of the bridesmaids sing the song Halo with our string trio. It was so special to have her sing during our ceremony. While she was singing, we invited our immediate families to join us in lighting a unity candle, to symbolize the blending of our two families. Another one of my favorite parts of the ceremony was that two of my little nieces walked down the aisle as flower girls. They got a little diverted during their walk, which made everyone laugh, but they eventually made it down the aisle, cuter than ever. We wrote our own vows, and didn’t share them with each other beforehand, making it truly special hearing them for the first time at the ceremony. We followed the same pattern, so our vows would have a similar feel to them. We each said “I am here because…,” “I love you because…,” and “I promise to…” with three reasons for each. Ryan was pretty emotional during his vows, which ensured there was not a dry eye in the crowd.

Ryan loves wearing bowties, so we thought it would be fun to have a “trade your tie for a bow tie” bar at our cocktail hour. My mom worked for months on sewing bowties for every male at our wedding, and created lavender sachets for all of the women. They turned out so gorgeous (I still think she should open an Etsy shop!), and it was so fun seeing guests helping each other tie bowties at our cocktail hour. Jacin hung the bowties from vintage shutters, and placed bunches of lavender and other herbs in little vintage boxes and baskets all around them. She also lined the bars with beautiful hops, which added to the lush, green feeling of the day. We had a bluegrass band start the fun and merriment at our cocktail hour, and our signature cocktails were a hit. Everyone was able to watch the sun set behind the mountains during our cocktail hour—we couldn’t have timed it more perfectly.

Our centerpieces and tablescapes turned out perfectly. Jacin created the most gorgeous low and overflowing centerpieces with all of my favorite flowers, and surrounded them with tall candles, votive candles, little vases holding single stems of flowers, and herb pots. We chose vintage plates that had a variety of blue patterns on them to serve as charger plates, topped them with our hand torn menus and lavender sprigs, and used vintage silverware alongside them. We also had macarons serve as escort cards, with each guest’s name written on an individual macaron and placed in mini cake holders at each seat. The entire tablescape and place setting truly felt like we were back in France—I couldn’t have dreamed up something more gorgeous!

Our band, A Town A List, made sure our wedding reception was incredibly fun. Ryan and I danced to Zac Brown Band’s Loving You Easy, and I still get a rush of emotion every time I hear the song. Ryan and his mother invited all other mothers and sons to join them on the dance floor partway through their dance, which was so heartwarming to watch. Our band made sure no one left the dance floor all night, and we had an absolute blast. We ended the night with a sparkler sendoff while our band played The Saints Go Marching In. It was such a perfect day and night, we both wish we could relive it again.

We are so thankful for all of our vendors, who played such special roles in our planning and big day. I’ve already talked how much we appreciated Jacin and her whole team for planning the weekend of our dreams (which involved essentially two weddings!). She was such a joy to work with and has become a dear friend. She and her team made the whole weekend move seamlessly and perfectly, even playing the dual role of planner and florist. Our photographer, Ryan Ray, has provided us with some of the best memories of our special day, as our pictures are absolutely stunning and perfectly capture the feel from our special day (and Welcome Dinner). He was even right in the middle of the dance floor all night, missing nothing. Chelsea Petaja took our vision for paper goods and absolutely nailed it. I still cannot get over how beautiful our initiation packets were. Our videographer provided us with such a special video of our wedding, weaving in vintage film for parts of our day, that makes us cry every time we watch it. We cannot thank them enough!

Photographer: Ryan Ray Photography | Videographer:: Shaking Hands Productions | Wedding Cake: Sweethaus | Bride's Shoes: Badgley Mischka | Band: The Adrian Duke Project | Transportation: Albemarle And Ambassador Limo | Additional Bridesmaids Hair: Mariam Muhammad | Additional Bridesmaids Makeup: Tinsley Onuegbu | Bluegrass Band: Early Grove String Trio | Bow ties & Suspenders: High Cotton Ties | Bridal Gown: Vera Wang | Bride and Bridesmaids Hair & Makeup: Amanda Dang | Bride's Earrings: David Yurman | Bridesmaids Monogrammed Bow Tie Tank Tops: LPE Designs on Etsy | Ceremony Musicians: Linden Trio | Ceremony Singer: Ashley Hogan | Cocktail Table Linens: Nuage Designs | Cork Board, Save the Dates, Seating Chart Design & Napkins: Southern Fried Paper | Flower Girl Dresses: Bella Bridesmaid | Groom & Groomsmen's Attire: Kenneth Cole Reaction | Hand-made Bow Ties & Lavender Sachets: Beverley Venables, Mother of the Bride | Ice Cream Sandwiches: It's-It | Invitations and Day-of Paper Goods Design & Calligraphy: Oh My Deer Handmades | Lighting, Sound & Stage: Blue Ridge AV & Lighting | Linens: La Tavola Fine Linen Rental | Macaron Hand Lettering: Laura Hooper Calligraphy | Macarons: Buttercream Bakeshop | Martini Glasses, Easels & Trays: Festive Fare | Mother of the Bride Gown: Badgley Mischka | Mother of the Groom Gown: Monique Lhuillier | Place Settings, Glassware, Ceremony “Altar” Production & Vin: Southern Vintage | Ring Dish: Paloma's Nest | Seating Chart Production: I Do Linens | Wedding Planning, Design & Florals: Jacin Fitzgerald Events

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This Wedding is the Prettiest Ode to All Things Blue published first on their blog to my feed

[amygriffissourkitty]

This Wedding is the Prettiest Ode to All Things Blue

Crafted by Jacin Fitzgerald, this Pippin Hill wedding has way too many pretty details to gush over in one little intro. Let’s start with the “Trade Your Tie for a Bowtie” bar (cute!!) or the personalized macarons by Laura Hooper Calligraphy and finish with those sweeping Virginia landscapes. But that’s only the beginning of this French country inspired celebration. Jump into all the stunning imagery captured by Ryan Ray. And if you missed it, take a peak at this couple’s seriously pretty engagement and pre-wedding festivities that include a good ol’ southern clam bake.

Share this gorgeous gallery on

 Colors

Seasons

Fall

Settings

Vineyard

Styles

Rustic

From the Bride… From the minute we got engaged, we knew we wanted to get married at Pippin Hill. We felt it was a perfect representation of the beauty of this special spot in the country where most of our guests had never been before. Fall is our favorite time in Charlottesville, so a September wedding was a no brainer for us. We wanted our wedding décor to have the same feel as the French countryside, with lush, overflowing flowers, woven baskets filled with lavender and herbs, and a rustic yet refined feel.

Working with Jacin was a true dream come true. She completely understood our vision for the wedding, and perfectly transformed the ideas in our head into reality. Working with her on the flowers was one of my favorite experiences from wedding planning, as flowers played such a big part in the décor for the day. I wanted a lush and loose bouquet, and the centerpieces to be low and overflowing flowers as well. We chose lots of champagne, cream, and blush-colored flowers, and the bridesmaids had pops of color in their bouquets. Jacin traveled to Nashville, TN to meet one weekend and pulled together the entire tablescape and flowers that we were going to use at my wedding. It was amazing to be able to see it all together in person and work with her on what I liked, and what I hoped to change. I loved watching her swap flowers in and out right in front of me. It was such an incredible interactive experience that I will never forget.

It was so fun to be able to get ready at Pippin Hill on the morning of our wedding, as we were able to watch Jacin and her team pull together the entire décor for the day. We could see all of the details that we had talked about and planned for the past year and a half come together, which was truly special. My bridesmaids and I had mimosas and were in a fun, celebratory mood all day long. It was a perfect getting-ready day!

We had absolutely stunning overflowing baskets of flowers that were at the entrance to the aisle for our ceremony. As for the ceremony, we wanted to stand at an altar, but did not want to block the incredible views of the mountains behind us—one of the main reasons why we chose to get married at Pippin Hill. Jacin found vintage screen doors that she then draped in flowers and greenery, which blended in beautifully with the natural beauty of our backdrop and made for an absolutely breathtaking altar.

Our wedding ceremony was both my and Ryan’s favorite time from the day. My dad walked me down the aisle to a string version of All I Want Is You by U2, his favorite band. Our dear friend from college officiated wonderfully, and he chose some very special poems and quotes to incorporate that resonated deeply with us. We had a ring warming ceremony, where we passed around our wedding bands through the guests for them to send their love and well wishes into. We also had one of the bridesmaids sing the song Halo with our string trio. It was so special to have her sing during our ceremony. While she was singing, we invited our immediate families to join us in lighting a unity candle, to symbolize the blending of our two families. Another one of my favorite parts of the ceremony was that two of my little nieces walked down the aisle as flower girls. They got a little diverted during their walk, which made everyone laugh, but they eventually made it down the aisle, cuter than ever. We wrote our own vows, and didn’t share them with each other beforehand, making it truly special hearing them for the first time at the ceremony. We followed the same pattern, so our vows would have a similar feel to them. We each said “I am here because…,” “I love you because…,” and “I promise to…” with three reasons for each. Ryan was pretty emotional during his vows, which ensured there was not a dry eye in the crowd.

Ryan loves wearing bowties, so we thought it would be fun to have a “trade your tie for a bow tie” bar at our cocktail hour. My mom worked for months on sewing bowties for every male at our wedding, and created lavender sachets for all of the women. They turned out so gorgeous (I still think she should open an Etsy shop!), and it was so fun seeing guests helping each other tie bowties at our cocktail hour. Jacin hung the bowties from vintage shutters, and placed bunches of lavender and other herbs in little vintage boxes and baskets all around them. She also lined the bars with beautiful hops, which added to the lush, green feeling of the day. We had a bluegrass band start the fun and merriment at our cocktail hour, and our signature cocktails were a hit. Everyone was able to watch the sun set behind the mountains during our cocktail hour—we couldn’t have timed it more perfectly.

Our centerpieces and tablescapes turned out perfectly. Jacin created the most gorgeous low and overflowing centerpieces with all of my favorite flowers, and surrounded them with tall candles, votive candles, little vases holding single stems of flowers, and herb pots. We chose vintage plates that had a variety of blue patterns on them to serve as charger plates, topped them with our hand torn menus and lavender sprigs, and used vintage silverware alongside them. We also had macarons serve as escort cards, with each guest’s name written on an individual macaron and placed in mini cake holders at each seat. The entire tablescape and place setting truly felt like we were back in France—I couldn’t have dreamed up something more gorgeous!

Our band, A Town A List, made sure our wedding reception was incredibly fun. Ryan and I danced to Zac Brown Band’s Loving You Easy, and I still get a rush of emotion every time I hear the song. Ryan and his mother invited all other mothers and sons to join them on the dance floor partway through their dance, which was so heartwarming to watch. Our band made sure no one left the dance floor all night, and we had an absolute blast. We ended the night with a sparkler sendoff while our band played The Saints Go Marching In. It was such a perfect day and night, we both wish we could relive it again.

We are so thankful for all of our vendors, who played such special roles in our planning and big day. I’ve already talked how much we appreciated Jacin and her whole team for planning the weekend of our dreams (which involved essentially two weddings!). She was such a joy to work with and has become a dear friend. She and her team made the whole weekend move seamlessly and perfectly, even playing the dual role of planner and florist. Our photographer, Ryan Ray, has provided us with some of the best memories of our special day, as our pictures are absolutely stunning and perfectly capture the feel from our special day (and Welcome Dinner). He was even right in the middle of the dance floor all night, missing nothing. Chelsea Petaja took our vision for paper goods and absolutely nailed it. I still cannot get over how beautiful our initiation packets were. Our videographer provided us with such a special video of our wedding, weaving in vintage film for parts of our day, that makes us cry every time we watch it. We cannot thank them enough!

Photographer: Ryan Ray Photography | Videographer:: Shaking Hands Productions | Wedding Cake: Sweethaus | Bride's Shoes: Badgley Mischka | Band: The Adrian Duke Project | Transportation: Albemarle And Ambassador Limo | Additional Bridesmaids Hair: Mariam Muhammad | Additional Bridesmaids Makeup: Tinsley Onuegbu | Bluegrass Band: Early Grove String Trio | Bow ties & Suspenders: High Cotton Ties | Bridal Gown: Vera Wang | Bride and Bridesmaids Hair & Makeup: Amanda Dang | Bride's Earrings: David Yurman | Bridesmaids Monogrammed Bow Tie Tank Tops: LPE Designs on Etsy | Ceremony Musicians: Linden Trio | Ceremony Singer: Ashley Hogan | Cocktail Table Linens: Nuage Designs | Cork Board, Save the Dates, Seating Chart Design & Napkins: Southern Fried Paper | Flower Girl Dresses: Bella Bridesmaid | Groom & Groomsmen's Attire: Kenneth Cole Reaction | Hand-made Bow Ties & Lavender Sachets: Beverley Venables, Mother of the Bride | Ice Cream Sandwiches: It's-It | Invitations and Day-of Paper Goods Design & Calligraphy: Oh My Deer Handmades | Lighting, Sound & Stage: Blue Ridge AV & Lighting | Linens: La Tavola Fine Linen Rental | Macaron Hand Lettering: Laura Hooper Calligraphy | Macarons: Buttercream Bakeshop | Martini Glasses, Easels & Trays: Festive Fare | Mother of the Bride Gown: Badgley Mischka | Mother of the Groom Gown: Monique Lhuillier | Place Settings, Glassware, Ceremony “Altar” Production & Vin: Southern Vintage | Ring Dish: Paloma's Nest | Seating Chart Production: I Do Linens | Wedding Planning, Design & Florals: Jacin Fitzgerald Events

© Style Me Pretty, 2017. | Permalink | Comments | Add to del.icio.us Post tags: Post categories: Real Weddings, Rustic, The Blog

[samboine123]

This Wedding is the Prettiest Ode to All Things Blue

Crafted by Jacin Fitzgerald, this Pippin Hill wedding has way too many pretty details to gush over in one little intro. Let’s start with the “Trade Your Tie for a Bowtie” bar (cute!!) or the personalized macarons by Laura Hooper Calligraphy and finish with those sweeping Virginia landscapes. But that’s only the beginning of this French country inspired celebration. Jump into all the stunning imagery captured by Ryan Ray. And if you missed it, take a peak at this couple’s seriously pretty engagement and pre-wedding festivities that include a good ol’ southern clam bake.

Share this gorgeous gallery on

  Colors

Seasons

Fall

Settings

Vineyard

Styles

Rustic

From the Bride… From the minute we got engaged, we knew we wanted to get married at Pippin Hill. We felt it was a perfect representation of the beauty of this special spot in the country where most of our guests had never been before. Fall is our favorite time in Charlottesville, so a September wedding was a no brainer for us. We wanted our wedding décor to have the same feel as the French countryside, with lush, overflowing flowers, woven baskets filled with lavender and herbs, and a rustic yet refined feel.

Working with Jacin was a true dream come true. She completely understood our vision for the wedding, and perfectly transformed the ideas in our head into reality. Working with her on the flowers was one of my favorite experiences from wedding planning, as flowers played such a big part in the décor for the day. I wanted a lush and loose bouquet, and the centerpieces to be low and overflowing flowers as well. We chose lots of champagne, cream, and blush-colored flowers, and the bridesmaids had pops of color in their bouquets. Jacin traveled to Nashville, TN to meet one weekend and pulled together the entire tablescape and flowers that we were going to use at my wedding. It was amazing to be able to see it all together in person and work with her on what I liked, and what I hoped to change. I loved watching her swap flowers in and out right in front of me. It was such an incredible interactive experience that I will never forget.

It was so fun to be able to get ready at Pippin Hill on the morning of our wedding, as we were able to watch Jacin and her team pull together the entire décor for the day. We could see all of the details that we had talked about and planned for the past year and a half come together, which was truly special. My bridesmaids and I had mimosas and were in a fun, celebratory mood all day long. It was a perfect getting-ready day!

We had absolutely stunning overflowing baskets of flowers that were at the entrance to the aisle for our ceremony. As for the ceremony, we wanted to stand at an altar, but did not want to block the incredible views of the mountains behind us—one of the main reasons why we chose to get married at Pippin Hill. Jacin found vintage screen doors that she then draped in flowers and greenery, which blended in beautifully with the natural beauty of our backdrop and made for an absolutely breathtaking altar.

Our wedding ceremony was both my and Ryan’s favorite time from the day. My dad walked me down the aisle to a string version of All I Want Is You by U2, his favorite band. Our dear friend from college officiated wonderfully, and he chose some very special poems and quotes to incorporate that resonated deeply with us. We had a ring warming ceremony, where we passed around our wedding bands through the guests for them to send their love and well wishes into. We also had one of the bridesmaids sing the song Halo with our string trio. It was so special to have her sing during our ceremony. While she was singing, we invited our immediate families to join us in lighting a unity candle, to symbolize the blending of our two families. Another one of my favorite parts of the ceremony was that two of my little nieces walked down the aisle as flower girls. They got a little diverted during their walk, which made everyone laugh, but they eventually made it down the aisle, cuter than ever. We wrote our own vows, and didn’t share them with each other beforehand, making it truly special hearing them for the first time at the ceremony. We followed the same pattern, so our vows would have a similar feel to them. We each said “I am here because…,” “I love you because…,” and “I promise to…” with three reasons for each. Ryan was pretty emotional during his vows, which ensured there was not a dry eye in the crowd.

Ryan loves wearing bowties, so we thought it would be fun to have a “trade your tie for a bow tie” bar at our cocktail hour. My mom worked for months on sewing bowties for every male at our wedding, and created lavender sachets for all of the women. They turned out so gorgeous (I still think she should open an Etsy shop!), and it was so fun seeing guests helping each other tie bowties at our cocktail hour. Jacin hung the bowties from vintage shutters, and placed bunches of lavender and other herbs in little vintage boxes and baskets all around them. She also lined the bars with beautiful hops, which added to the lush, green feeling of the day. We had a bluegrass band start the fun and merriment at our cocktail hour, and our signature cocktails were a hit. Everyone was able to watch the sun set behind the mountains during our cocktail hour—we couldn’t have timed it more perfectly.

Our centerpieces and tablescapes turned out perfectly. Jacin created the most gorgeous low and overflowing centerpieces with all of my favorite flowers, and surrounded them with tall candles, votive candles, little vases holding single stems of flowers, and herb pots. We chose vintage plates that had a variety of blue patterns on them to serve as charger plates, topped them with our hand torn menus and lavender sprigs, and used vintage silverware alongside them. We also had macarons serve as escort cards, with each guest’s name written on an individual macaron and placed in mini cake holders at each seat. The entire tablescape and place setting truly felt like we were back in France—I couldn’t have dreamed up something more gorgeous!

Our band, A Town A List, made sure our wedding reception was incredibly fun. Ryan and I danced to Zac Brown Band’s Loving You Easy, and I still get a rush of emotion every time I hear the song. Ryan and his mother invited all other mothers and sons to join them on the dance floor partway through their dance, which was so heartwarming to watch. Our band made sure no one left the dance floor all night, and we had an absolute blast. We ended the night with a sparkler sendoff while our band played The Saints Go Marching In. It was such a perfect day and night, we both wish we could relive it again.

We are so thankful for all of our vendors, who played such special roles in our planning and big day. I’ve already talked how much we appreciated Jacin and her whole team for planning the weekend of our dreams (which involved essentially two weddings!). She was such a joy to work with and has become a dear friend. She and her team made the whole weekend move seamlessly and perfectly, even playing the dual role of planner and florist. Our photographer, Ryan Ray, has provided us with some of the best memories of our special day, as our pictures are absolutely stunning and perfectly capture the feel from our special day (and Welcome Dinner). He was even right in the middle of the dance floor all night, missing nothing. Chelsea Petaja took our vision for paper goods and absolutely nailed it. I still cannot get over how beautiful our initiation packets were. Our videographer provided us with such a special video of our wedding, weaving in vintage film for parts of our day, that makes us cry every time we watch it. We cannot thank them enough!

Photographer: Ryan Ray Photography | Videographer:: Shaking Hands Productions | Wedding Cake: Sweethaus | Bride's Shoes: Badgley Mischka | Band: The Adrian Duke Project | Transportation: Albemarle And Ambassador Limo | Additional Bridesmaids Hair: Mariam Muhammad | Additional Bridesmaids Makeup: Tinsley Onuegbu | Bluegrass Band: Early Grove String Trio | Bow ties & Suspenders: High Cotton Ties | Bridal Gown: Vera Wang | Bride and Bridesmaids Hair & Makeup: Amanda Dang | Bride's Earrings: David Yurman | Bridesmaids Monogrammed Bow Tie Tank Tops: LPE Designs on Etsy | Ceremony Musicians: Linden Trio | Ceremony Singer: Ashley Hogan | Cocktail Table Linens: Nuage Designs | Cork Board, Save the Dates, Seating Chart Design & Napkins: Southern Fried Paper | Flower Girl Dresses: Bella Bridesmaid | Groom & Groomsmen's Attire: Kenneth Cole Reaction | Hand-made Bow Ties & Lavender Sachets: Beverley Venables, Mother of the Bride | Ice Cream Sandwiches: It's-It | Invitations and Day-of Paper Goods Design & Calligraphy: Oh My Deer Handmades | Lighting, Sound & Stage: Blue Ridge AV & Lighting | Linens: La Tavola Fine Linen Rental | Macaron Hand Lettering: Laura Hooper Calligraphy | Macarons: Buttercream Bakeshop | Martini Glasses, Easels & Trays: Festive Fare | Mother of the Bride Gown: Badgley Mischka | Mother of the Groom Gown: Monique Lhuillier | Place Settings, Glassware, Ceremony “Altar” Production & Vin: Southern Vintage | Ring Dish: Paloma's Nest | Seating Chart Production: I Do Linens | Wedding Planning, Design & Florals: Jacin Fitzgerald Events

© Style Me Pretty, 2017. | Permalink | Comments | Add to del.icio.us Post tags: Post categories: Real Weddings, Rustic, The Blog

[cottagenecessitiesblog]

I’ve been putting off tackling my bedroom.

But if it was going to happen then today had to be the day.

I have a plan for how I want it to look.  I won’t copy the picture, but use it as inspiration.

picture from Sherwin Williams Stir magazine

Here’s what I’ve done so far – The Basics

took advantage of the white sales. Purchased a lightweight comforter.

Added a new memory foam mattress topper

added protective pillow covers to the pillows

flipped the mattress

Here’s what I already have that will work in my plan – Find things you already have

Ralph Lauren sheets, shams and duvet cover that I’ve collected.

White lamps with brown silk shades ( seem to work wherever I’ve put them)

Vintage mahogany dresser needs a paint job (picked out the paint color and purchased the knobs a while ago)

Henredon headboard needs to be raised by 8″.  I’ll have to try this myself – I have a plan.

Wingback chair needs a slip cover – I’ll check my stash for some fabric.

Change lamp on dresser – will need a new shade

Find some new prints for the walls or see if I have something that I already have.

Hang the drapes from my previous home.  may need to purchase some sheers.

Problem – need more storage in bedside tables for reading and writing materials.

Practical overrules Pretty , but look for something with drawers that has a “decidedly French Flair”. 

Donate anything you don’t have a place for.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

In the pictures above, I’ve already changed the charming Asian lamp for the marble one, and just put a different shade on it.  I like that the shade tells a romantic story, and the lamp has a more French style.  ( I had been thinking about selling that lamp and shade, but just couldn’t bring myself to it).

**********************************************************************

Since I’ve already cleaned and organized my closet, and dresser drawers, there was one more major action needed before I continue with my plan.  This one can go under the heading, Basics.

Today, I shampooed the carpet, dusted, and wiped down the base-boards, and washed the windows and the sills.  Then, I took a nap!

I also switched the sewing machine with the dresser.

Feng Shui cure :  I moved the bed over enough so my feet no longer point toward the door.   ( in feng shui, they say, you’re carried out the door feet first when you die)  Not quite ready for that, so I moved it over about 5 inches.

I also removed the area rug, and now the space feels more open and I have an area to do some yoga!

Tip:  I used furniture movers to help me with the move. I just placed the little disks under the legs of the furniture, and it made it so easy to move things around.

So, that’s my process when dissecting and planning a room.  I hope this helps you in your room plans.  The only thing that I haven’t done is draw a floorplan.  That is something that I recommend if you are planning to purchase new furniture and need to work on the flow of your room.

  A work in Progress!

  Thanks for visiting.  I hope that you have been inspired to create, declutter, and decorate.  Please sign up so you don’t miss a post!

Dear Diary….Day 13….of the 27 things for 27 days challenge…. I've been putting off tackling my bedroom. But if it was going to happen then today had to be the day.