My block is really into decorating. Like really. I’ll all for a nice color-coordinated interior design scheme (last week, for example, I managed to find a chair cover that was an exact match to the couch cover I bought six months ago and I spent the rest of the evening congratulating myself) but I don’t really feel the need to commemorate every single American holiday.
(Side note: I only remember two things from high school science [Other side note: I managed to skip science all together in college so high school science is as far as I got]. Those two things were the Coriolis effect and the Capillary effect. I’ve found that most science clues on Jeopardy can be answered by one of these two terms. You should try it the next time you’re watching, or just slip them into your next cocktail party conversation if you want to sound smart.)
Anyway, getting back to the matter at hand: I filled my front porch with jack-o-lantern tea lights for Halloween, constructed a handmade garland from real pine boughs for Christmas, and created an indestructible, man-proof, heart-shaped wreath out of recycled materials for Valentine’s Day.
I drew the line at St. Patrick’s Day—I consider St. Patrick’s Day (and all holiday’s that clog Broad Street and/or compel folks to wear stupid outfits) to be tacky but with First Communion décor popping up on every corner (including mine) and Easter just around the bend, I am feeling the need to be… you know… participatory once again.
PIC appreciates my design sense and has learned, as all men-who-love-Richter-women must learn, that we require constant acknowledgement of our skill and good taste. So he compliments my wreaths, my swaths of garland, my tissue paper creations and has learned, ever since the Patio Furniture Incident to never, ever criticize anything.
(What happened during the Patio Furniture Incident was this: we were looking out the window to my deck on a particularly snowy day, fantasizing about the arrival of spring, the lovely barbeques we’d be able to have and the eventual acquisition of better furniture. “Yeah,” he said, getting into the spirit of things, “I don’t know about that old patio set. And that green paint…” What he did not know is that “that green paint” was hand selected by Yours Truly and applied lovingly and judiciously to what can only be described as The Best Thrift Shop Find in the History of the World. Cue the humble pie.)
Anyway, we have established that gentle teasing is okay, especially when it involves my cardboard wreaths, with which I am, admittedly, a bit obsessed. I’ve made four so far, which is twice the number of doors my house even has. I’ve considering giving some of them away as gifts, but I don’t want to become known as the-girl-who-gives-people-recycled-cardboard. It might be a bit, you know, weird. So instead I spend my time dreaming up other things to make.
Whenever recycling day comes around and PIC asks if I’d like him to take out the cardboard boxes in my office, I snap at him with the ferocity of a mother bear protecting her cubs.
“Don’t touch them!” I growl. “I’m going to make something out of them.”
“I don’t know what yet. I’m awaiting inspiration.”
For Easter, I was considering modifying my original design so that it looks like an egg, but anyone can make an egg. Plus, according to the Pier 1 catalogs that keep getting sent to my home’s previous owner, eggs are so last year. This year it’s carrots. Carrots are all the rage.
Stay tuned. I’ll post the results on Friday.