Vote for Paloma

Dear House on Red Hill readers - I'm asking for your vote, for your vote for Paloma.

A co-worker sent me an email with the following message and link:
A very dedicated Animal Shelter Volunteer has entered her dog in the cutest dog contest. Please vote for Paloma as many times as possible and pass on if you can.

Winnings will go to saving animals from shelters. Paloma was rescued from West Los Angeles Shelter.

Go to link below. Thanks!

http://www.cutestdogcompetition.com/vote.cfm?h=471622FA898AE8F362438FAAB785F13A <http://www.cutestdogcompetition.com/vote.cfm?h=471622FA898AE8F362438FAAB785F13A>

If you open the link you'll see this picture:

Isn't she cute?

My co-worker is herself a very dedicated volunteer at the West LA Animal Shelter and our votes will mean a lot to her and to the shelter. You can vote once a day per IP address. That means you can vote once a day from home and once a day from work.

If you only have time to vote once, that's fine too.

Thanks.

Time to Tax the 'tox

Give the People What They Want . . .
And they’ll probably run the state into the ground.

As everyone knows, the State of California is broke. Everybody wants public services. Nobody wants to pay for them. The state's initiative process insures that plenty of numbskull ideas get on the ballot because people will sign any piece of paper handed to them in a supermarket parking lot.

“Care to help crime victims” they’ll ask. Sure. Who could say no to that? Except that come-on could be anything, from support of a special fund for long-term medical care for crime victims to a reinterpretation of the 4th amendment rights of the accused to gun control legislation (both pro and anti).

At this time last year, I was approached twice with a petition to impeach Dick Cheney. During those horrible eight years, there was no one, absolutely no one that would have loved more than I to have seen that man routed back to the brackish hole from whence he came. But three months before the election? That’s how we want Congress to spend its time? Nah.

When I refused to sign, the petitioners looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.

Back to the State of California. We have no money because you can’t raise a penny without a 2/3 vote and there are too many people who refuse to support any new taxes based on pure principle. They would rather limit services, such as education and fire protection. We’ll be lucky to get through the next fire season without the whole state burning down.

I understand that no one wants their property taxes to rise. In the past, homeowners were asked to bear too much. People can’t come up with more and more money to pay their taxes just because the value of their property increases. Maybe we should do away with property taxes entirely. Maybe we should just have a chunkier capital gains tax on the sale of a home. That sounds fair to me. It’s fair and it makes more sense than having my neighbor pay 3 times the tax I pay just because he bought his home two years later. People like my parents, who sell their homes after the age of 70 and after living in their homes for over ten years, could be exempted from the capital gains tax on the sale of a home. We don’t want to fund state services on the backs of retirees.

There’s also a proposal floating around to tax Botox injections to fund the new health care plan. Sounds good to me.

The state can add its own tax to Botox and fund a thing or two around here. Keep a few libraries open or the state parks.

Those who object say it would hurt those who use Botox to ameliorate the results of disfiguring surgeries. Easy enough. People with those conditions can be exempted.

Others say that taxing Botox would disproportionately affect women. That’s lame. It would also disproportionately affect the wrinkled and the vain. That’s just how it is. Women assume a lot of burdens disproportionately. Where’s the outrage when it comes to the price of hair cuts? Why aren’t my “foundation garments” subsidized? Why must I endure 15 minutes of sports with every news broadcast? Not that I’m in love with Venus and Serena, but at least 98% of sports news is about people with names like Manny and Kobe and very rarely about people with names like Venus or Serena, so why should I care enough to give up 50% of a news broadcast to them?

But back to the Botox - I say tax it if you can’t afford the tax, you can’t afford the ‘tox.

There are also plans for a tax on sodas. Sure. I love a nice, icy Dr. Pepper from a drive-thru. But if paying a surcharge on that refreshment is such a big deal, it’s a luxury I can live without.

Heck, I’d even be willing to tax cocktails. That’s how unselfish I am. The liquor lobby will hate that but what if it were a floating tax? Vodka drinks get taxed on Monday, Gin drinks on Tuesday, etc. Wine and beer would be exempt.

These are all taxes that anybody can get around if they feel that strongly about them, and yet, none are likely to really hurt businesses. Collected cumulatively, they could make a difference.

While we’re at it, let’s tax ringtones. You don’t need them.

Tax tattoos. You don’t need them. Tax piercings. You don’t need them. Tax hair extensions, French Manicures and acrylic nails. You don’t need them.

Super tax cigars. Super tax anything that comes with two patties. Super tax spinning rims.

Offer tax rebates for the purchase of previously owned furniture.

Super tax fried food.

Tax services from tanning salons.

Tax extra cars. No household needs more than 2 cars per adult.

Super tax jet skis. Super tax ATVs. Super, super, super tax bullets.

But first, we tax the ‘tox.

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

I’m sure that, like me, you too are hooked on new taxes. To find out what others are hooked on, check out the Hooked on Fridays blog party at HookedonHouses.net .

Franz Marc and The Yellow Cow

Once upon a time there was a Guggenheim museum at The Venetian hotel in Las Vegas. I was once there with my sister, visiting an exhibit called The Art of the Motorcycle. Her idea, not mine. If I took nothing else from it, I now pay attention to the Ducatis that I see now and then.

But I took more from it. Much, much more.

Not from the exhibit, but from the gift shop. It was there that I first saw this poster

and first became aware of the German Expressionist, Franz Marc.

I didn’t buy the poster at the time but the image really stuck with me. Once I saw more of his work, it really drew me in. Here was an artist who shared my cosmology. He painted a world of animals as avatar – a world that acknowledged their emotions and by painting animals represented oneness, interconnectedness, natural order. Even his later work, though less joyful and more violent, through a lens of the animal world reflected the world that was soon to be.

The Yellow Cow was painted in 1911. My house was just in its second year then so they are contemporaries. Just afterward, Marc’s work turned darker, more ominous such as in the tone of this -

The Fate of the Animals was painted in 1913. By 1914, Europe was at war. In 1916 Franz Marc was killed at the Battle of Verdun.

I realize that having a tile reproduction of a painting in my kitchen isn’t really part of a traditional Craftsman aesthetic. But my home isn’t meant to be a restoration, only a respectful rehabilitation. I think the fact that the house is contemporaneous with the original work makes it ok. I don’t remember how I found the tile mural. I was playing around online, maybe looking for references to the artwork when I found a company that makes art reproductions on tile. I think that was in 2005. I had to have it. I mean I had to have it. I ordered it right away, even though I knew that work on the kitchen wouldn't begin for years. Once the box of tiles arrived, I never opened it. I don’t know why, just never did. The box went into the basement for three years. The first time I opened the box, it was to get a match on the paint color for the kitchen wall. The big purple spot in the cow’s center would be the color of the two kitchen walls. (for years I thought the spot was blue. That’s how it looked online – good thing I checked the actual tile before buying paint!) I’ve still never seen the actual painting. It’s part of the permanent collection at the Guggenheim in New York but when I was last there it wasn’t on display.

After the walls were painted there was still a lot more work to do. Months passed. But then one Saturday I left for work knowing that when I got home, the tile would be up. I’d see the full mural at last.

Then, when the moment finally came, I hated it. I’d become accustomed to the plain, clean, purple wall behind the stove. Seeing the tile image there was a shock. It seemed too big, too garish. It was just way, way, way too much.

The next day I broke the news. “We can’t keep it,” I said. K was disappointed. I was supposed to pick out grout that afternoon but I knew that once we grouted it, that was it. We were making a commitment to keeping it.

We talked about it. I decided to let it grow on me. Live with it a few more days and see what happened. I was kicking myself for making an emotional decision in choosing the tile in the first place. I had succumbed to sentimentality. But I felt really bad about deciding to take out the tile. It seemed like such a shame. Grr! Stupid sentimentality was swaying me again! Yes, it would be some money down the drain, but not an exorbitant amount. And yes, the wall would have been totally messed up in that spot so that would have been more work, additional delays in the kitchen, but that wasn’t the biggest thing for me. The biggest thing was that I felt bad for the image. I would have felt bad about destroying The Yellow Cow. Grr! It’s just tile, not the original painting!!! Stupid sentimentality.

I’m now glad that I lived with it for a few more days. Eventually, The Yellow Cow stopped surprising me every time I rounded the corner. While it remains the room’s focal point, it stopped taking ALL the focus in the room for me.

I chose a purplish grout and then we framed it in black tile. The black framing helped a lot, helping integrate the mural into the wall.

It’s a bold choice for a small room. But I now like The Yellow Cow on her wall, dancing for all the other cows on the other walls. I’m glad I can daily enjoy a work of art that was made when my house was only two years old, when the world was a completely different place.

That’s how I became hooked on the artist Franz Marc and his painting The Yellow Cow and my own reproduction of The Yellow Cow in my kitchen tile backsplash.

See what others are hooked on at Julia’s Friday blog party at Hooked on Houses.

You can see more Franz Marc art here, including a chronological lineup.

I Saw a Man Shooting Pool in his Front Yard

It was while I was out on a walk tonight. It was about 8:30. I was doing my usual thing as I walked; looking into lit windows; judging choices; thinking about taste and class and the plight of the bobo.

This man had a pool table in his front yard and he was playing by himself. There was a Stones song coming from whatever music making device he had at his side.

The yard was a mess of old outdoor furniture. Much of it was overturned and the cushions were dirty and disarrayed.

I thought to myself, "Dude, why don't you clean up that yard; get rid of some of that junk; do a little landscaping?"

Then the answer came to me - he's shooting pool in his front yard, all alone and listening to the Stones. The last thing he needs is the voice in my head.

and now . . . our Dining Room

Because it had been turned into a duplex, our house came with two living rooms (and two kitchens). The original 1909 dining room became a living room.

And because neither of the two bedrooms was big enough to accommodate our queen size bed, and all its attendant furniture, we spent the first two years of our residency here sleeping in the original living room. (if you zoom in on this picture, through the doorway you can see the unmade bed and one hemp slipper.)

We blocked the hideous fireplace to keep out the cat – and because there was no place else for that Ikea piece that was providing much needed storage, since the kitchen was pretty much a disaster.

K had to cut a doorway into the wall so we wouldn’t have to go outside and across the porch to get to the kitchen. Friends gave us that beaded curtain.

Do not fail to take note of the horrible faux parquet peel n’ stick vinyl floor tiles. There was more than one layer of this in some parts. And, please notice the white. How could you not notice the white? Blazing, unforgiving White beating down from every wall, every ceiling, every piece of trim. The whole house was whiter than globs of mayonaisse and Cool Whip smeared onto a meeting of the Dick Cheney Fan Club. (yes, there actually is such a thing.)

In November of ’07, the white was carted off to a dumpster –

In January of '08, the hideous fireplace was condemned.

In June of '08, the kitten finally seemed confident that it would all be all right -

I believe she is sitting on the delivery of kitchen cabinets. Notice that she has her tape measure at the ready. She is truly her daddy's kitten.

Now finally, the house has its dining room back –

You may not have noticed, but in the pictures of our kitchen, there was no refrigerator. It literally did not fit in the kitchen, at least not without sticking into the hall doorway or without blocking something else when the door was opened. There was no getting around it. The fridge had to straddle the kitchen/dining room. And in my bizarre mind, covering the top half with art magnets hides it a little. That, and the fact that the fridge is black, like the cabinets and the dishwasher.

It’s almost like you don’t even notice it’s there. It’s practically disappeared. One could starve to death looking for the refrigerator.

The upside is that it’s handy for when you’re sitting at the table and you’re too lazy to get out of your chair for another glass of tea. You just reach over, open the fridge door and there it is.

Speaking of table, this one seats 8 at its minimum length and up to 12 with both leaves. We haven’t put in both leaves yet. Once we put in one leaf to seat 10. Ten was ok. I imagine 12 would be cozy but it would be doable. That’s what I love about this room, just the idea of dinner parties for 10 or 12.

It’s stark though, isn’t it? We still have to hang some art over the buffet. Maybe add some things to the mantle. I don’t want to clutter it, though. There’s always that danger with us.

The spare quality strikes me as a bit Scandinavian. It makes me think of a Swedish farmhouse (as if I knew what such a thing looked like). Maybe it’s the ladderback wooden chairs against the massive table. Maybe it’s the weathered old Adirondack.

Maybe it’s the plow yoke.

If you can ignore the Warhol magnets, to me, it looks like a room where people with callused hands give thanks to a harsh Protestant god before enjoying a simple meal of root vegetables and freshly made bread.

Well, that’s not going to happen here.

Instead, I will lift my tiny manicured hand and drink a toast to Hestia, Goddess of Hearth and Home and of course, to Dionysus, God of Wine and Theatre.

And then I guess I'll have something delivered.

Before and After '09 - Supporting Habitat for Humanity

Whatever you do, don't forget about One Project Closer's Summer Before and After Contest. Send in your recent home improvement Before and After pictures and stories and the sweet taste of victory could be yours.

They'll have a winner each week until Sept. 20th and a grand prize winner at the end. You can win gift cards to Lowe's, Home Depot or Amazon but the best part is that OPC will make a donation on your behalf to Habitat for Humanity (and you get to flaunt your accomplishment).

So get your entries in. Don't dally. Take pictures. Tell your tale. Shake your DIY tail feathers.

Kitschy Kitchen (At Last!)

We were off our deadline by exactly one year. I wanted the public rooms to be done by June 20, 2008. It wasn’t until June 20, 2009, that they were ready for their debut.

When we started, just before the demolition in Nov. 2007, the window corner of the kitchen looked like this:

One year ago, with the deadline days away, it looked like this:

Today it looks like this:

And when we started, the view from my dining room fireplace, facing the kitchen, looked like this:

And today it looks like this:

This:

and later, this:

became this:

And this:

became this:

And now I have a handy place for my cookbooks:

And even the tiniest cows have a safe home:

The kitchen’s been mostly done for a few months, but there were dozens of little details that kept it from being really done. Well now it’s really done.

Maybe at some point I'll go into some details, like about the drama with the cow mural - why I wanted it but then why I didn't, but for now there's just a slide show -