Seen in Palm Springs

Our trip to Palm Springs has come to an end.  Before I put it behind me I wanted to post some more pictures from around town (with an emphasis on mid century modern and other vintage finds).  As I mentioned here our visit happened to coincide with Palm Springs Modernism Week and that seems to have influenced a lot of what I photographed.

The neighborhood in which we stayed was filled with older homes, many of which would be characterized as "mid century modern."  I loved the one below because of its bright yellow door.

I also liked the vintage light fixture.  I later saw one just like it in a shop downtown:

Speaking of which, my sister-in-law and I had a lot of fun in the vintage (and thrift) shops.  One thrift shop had stacks of these programs from the Bob Hope Desert Classic.  (Beware: fuzzy iphone pics ahead.)

They also had several calendars from Tru-Color Photo Studios.  This one was from the 1940's and the wedding picture looks a lot like my grandparents'.  

Fast forward 40 years to a LIFE magazine from 1985.  

(I remember 1985 way too well for this to be considered vintage.)

(But it is.)

An antique store had these cute mugs.  (I almost walked home with them but managed to show some restraint.  I don't really need any more mugs.)

The same antique store had these cute plates with an atomic pattern:

And this amazing Lucite lamp.  (For a mere $800.)

Walking through town I spied these great chairs sitting outside of a vintage store.

 A little further down the road I saw these cute dollhouse-sized reproductions (apologies for the window glare):

This artist designed ceramic trays with images of classic mid century modern furniture on them:

Here are the trays.  I'm regretting not buying one.

He also had a line of trays featuring classic mid century houses.  I didn't get a picture of the trays but here's his brochure.  I'm seriously thinking about framing it...

In honor of Modernism Week, fun things were popping up all over Palm Springs.  Like the pop-up store selling these:

And the pop-up galleries displaying these: 

(Yup, those are light fixtures made from vintage mixer parts.  I know, awesome, right?)

Sigh.  So long Palm Springs.  Until next year...

Getting Acquainted: What do you do?

My husband is a lawyer and every so often we have to go to parties and events with his coworkers or clients. At this point in his career most people know us and know our situation but occasionally an unfamiliar person will turn his (or her) attention to me and ask the dreaded question: "So Elena, what do you do?" Sigh.

I sigh, not because I don't love being a stay-at-home mom, but because of the condescending follow-up that inevitably follows: "Oh," they'll say with a smile, "well that's the most important job of all, isn't it?" (Or some variation thereof.) I'm probably not giving these people the benefit of the doubt when I refer to them as condescending. I'm sure any of them who have kids mean this to a certain extent. But the truth is that once I say it, I am often dismissed out of hand and it's assumed that I don't have much to add to the conversation. (This is a problem for me as I always have a lot to add to the conversation ;)

To save you from the embarrassment of having to ask this question, I thought I'd tell you a little bit about my work background. (If you're interested in getting to know me even further, check out my post entitled, Getting Acquainted: Where Are You From?)


As an adolescent I was scared of a lot of things. Well, new things really. I didn't like new things. I suspect this stemmed from all of the moving around that I did. I also suspect that it was guilt about making me move around that kept my mom from forcing me to do things that I didn't want to do. One notable exception was my first job working as a "bus girl" in a restaurant. As I recall she bribed me (with a trip to "rummage-a-rama," no less; I loved thrifting from a young age apparently).


Well thank goodness she did. I ended up working at that restaurant for five years (through the rest of high school and part of college). I eventually stopped bussing and started hostessing. I was good at it. It gave me confidence. It also gave me a means of support that I knew I could fall back on in hard times. I left that restaurant when I was twenty and that's only because it closed. I went directly to another one where I hostessed and then waitressed through the remainder of college.

Speaking of college, I was an English major. (Which means I know I'm not supposed to start a sentence with a conjunction.  But I'm a rebel.) Throughout college my parents (who were also English majors) begged (implored!) that I also get a teaching credential. I however, was steadfast: I was not going to be a teacher. So upon graduating I set out into the world, English degree in hand.

This was not a high point for me. Up until graduation, my entire life had been carefully scripted; I just needed to follow along. Now all of a sudden I was expected to write my own story and I was having a serious case of writer's block.

So I did what any self-respecting chicken would do: I found a way to put off a real job search for another year. I became a nanny. A live-in nanny. In New York City. And I hated it. The irony of my hatred is not lost on this stay-at-home-mommy. In fact for many years afterwards I wasn't sure I even wanted to be a mommy, but more about that another time...

So from nannying it was back to the restaurant biz where I hostessed and waited tables. Then I got my big break. In a feat of bravery, I decided to apply for a job at a temp agency--not as a temp but as a person who places temps at other companies--and I actually got the job. It was 1993 and one of the main reasons I even took the job was the lack of computers on the desks. I had what can only be described as an irrational fear of computers. I was convinced I could *never* learn to operate one. There would be computers on those desks within a year of my initial interview. And I survived to tell the tale.

This job was a hallmark for me in many ways. First of all, it paid a salary. There were paid vacations and bonuses. I took the el to my downtown office every morning. I even wore a suit. Needless to say I felt very grown-up and important. And I was good at the job (even, perhaps especially, the computery parts). This job taught me confidence and problem-solving. It also taught me that I was valuable. Unfortunately, no matter how good I was, I never really loved it. I wanted to do something that I had a passion for and placing temps wasn't it.

Yup. That's me in my (ill-fitting) suit with the shoulder pads. And my socks and tennies. Nice look, eh? Don't worry, I changed into heels at the office. The shoulder pads remained on, I'm afraid.

So guess what I decided to do? Go ahead, guess. Did you guess go back to school for a teaching credential like my parents told me to? Well, you'd be right.

Fast forward two years. I completed my education classes, did my student teaching and was hired by the school where I did it. Teaching was the most challenging, most rewarding, most exhausting job I've ever had. Even in the best schools, the first years of teaching are tough but I taught in a Chicago Public high school. A large percentage of my students were not native speakers of English. An equally large percentage were gang members. I saw things in that school that would blow your mind. Despite this, I loved my students. "Classroom management" (fancy jargon for keeping order in the classroom) was always easy for me. I found that if you were honest and warm and respectful (and funny) that the kids would return the favor. And they did. But it was still the hardest job I ever had and when we moved for my husband's work, I decided not to return to the classroom.

After settling into our new home I answered an ad: "Freelance writer looking for an assistant." Although I had an degree in English, I had few other relevant skills. I wrote a hell of a cover letter, though, and I got the job. For the next eight months I traveled all over Southeast Florida doing interviews and research for articles that she would eventually write. In some cases I even wrote the actual story though, per our agreement, the byline was always hers. It was an incredibly interesting job but the pay was too low and eventually I went back into the classroom.

My final job before becoming a mom was teaching eighth grade reading at a school outside of Ft. Lauderdale. It was a far cry from my Chicago days: The school had a lot more money. The equipment always worked. The kids' parents were involved. The list goes on and on. Within six months of taking the job I was pregnant with my first daughter. This made for some interesting times with my eighth graders. (It was a toss-up as to who was more hormonal, me or them.)

After I had my daughter I chose not to return to work. My husband's job is demanding and unpredictable. We ultimately decided that the children would benefit from the consistency of having me home. Now though, with my little ladies getting older, I'm starting to think about me again and what I want to do with myself when they're not around. I have a few ideas and blogging is a part of that. Thanks for being here for the next chapter of my story. Here's hoping it's a good one!

Wordless Wednesday: Joshua Tree

Our trip to Palm Springs continues with an excursion to Joshua Tree National Park.

I took some beautiful pictures there and thought they'd be great for a Wordless Wednesday Post.

(It's my first.  I'm not usually so good with the wordlessness.  I'm kind of a talker.)

I think it's safe to get all wordy-like in the comments.  So if you want more info on any of the images give me a holler!

(And if you plan to visit Joshua Tree and would like additional information, THIS is an excellent resource!)

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Mid-Century Mecca

A few months ago my brother and his wife invited us to share a house with them in Palm Springs.  I thought people might enjoy a sneak peek, especially considering the current popularity of mid-century modern decor.

The house is in the Movie Colony Neighborhood of Palm Springs, "where the stars lived and played!"

Come on in and take a peek.  (I'll let the pictures do most of the talking.)  Here's the street:

And the house...

The view when you walk in:

Let's check out that seating a little closer, shall we?

Seating for 22 around a fire pit?  Don't mind if I do..

Perhaps someone can make me a drink at the bar cart?

Or a snack in the kitchen.  (Love the stone wall...)

The pool is kidney-shaped (natch!)

And a fine selection of mid-century reading material is available:

Fun touches abound, like the black tile in this bathroom:

The mirror frame and vanity in this one:

The sunken shower in this one:

And the faux mother-of--pearl blinds pictured here (close-up below):

And if all this weren't enough to quench a girl's thirst for 1950's decor, we happen to be here smack in the middle of this!  (One of their double-decker tour buses drove past the house earlier.)

I'll definitely keep you posted on all of my fun discoveries!

I'd Like to Thank the Academy..

My warm welcome to the blogosphere continued today with an unexpected (and much appreciated!) surprise.  The lovely Mary Sullivan Frasier of Go Ahead...Take a Bite! has bestowed upon me The Versatile Blogger Award.  

How cool is that?  

(If you haven't read Mary's blog, go on over and check it out.  I'll wait.  You might want to start with the post about the chocolate chip cookie/brownie bars.)  (You're welcome.)

So once you receive the award, you need to do the following:

1. Add the award to your blog.  
2. Thank the blogger who gave it to you.
3. Mention seven random things about yourself. (see below)
4. List the rules.
5. Award to 15 bloggers.
6. Inform each of those 15 by leaving a comment on their blog.

Since I've already added the award and thanked Miss Mary (what the heck, Mary deserves to be thanked twice: Thanks, Mary!)  now I need to list my seven random things:

1. I'm almost ten years younger than my sister but only eleven months older than my brother.  That reminds me that I should do something nice for my mom...  like every day.  
2. My great-grandparents were swept away by a tsunami after a Mediterranean earthquake in 1908.  My great-grandmother survived because her floor-length hair got caught in a tree.  My great-great aunt was taken in by the Pope after that same earthquake.  She lived in Vatican City for six years.
3. I didn't drive on the freeway for several years after getting my license.  Merging seemed unnatural and wrong.  (Plus mighty dangerous.)  My brother finally got fed up and made me do it.  Thanks, Bro.
4. When my parents were married, they owned, collectively, something like 10,000 books.  They covered virtually every wall in the common living space. 
5. When I was young I hated my name.  Spencer Gifts never had stickers or tiny license plates or lunch bags with the name "Elena" on them.  I'm over that now.
6. Hot peppers give me the hiccups.  The reaction is immediate and makes an excellent party trick.  (This will not, however, stop me from making--and eating--the rockin' Guacamole recipe that Mary has on her site.)
7. I was Really Rosie in our fourth grade performance of "Really Rosie."  My life has all been downhill since then.

Okay, so that should about do it for my seven random facts.  Now for the fun (but difficult) part: bestowing the award on other bloggers.  Is it lame if I wait until my next post to do that?  It's the perfect excuse to spend my evening curled up with a bunch of good blogs...

Getting Acquainted: Where Are You From?

So, up until yesterday, there were about five people who read this blog.   Now there are, well... more.  (That's assuming they come back ;)  So I thought it might be nice to introduce myself so that people have some context for the stories I tell.  This will take more than one post so I thought I'd start with where I'm from since that can tell you a lot about a person.

One of the first things I should say is that in 43 years I've moved 17 times.  (And to answer the inevitable next question, no, my dad was not in the military.)  So whenever people ask me where I'm "from," I'm always at a loss for words.  I was born in Brooklyn, NY and although I left the area as an infant, there is a lot about NYC that informs who I am.  My parents were both Brooklyn born and bred and pretty much my entire extended family lived in NYC or Long Island.  I spent a lot of time there growing up so although it's ridiculous to say that I'm "from" New York, sometimes it feels like I am.

We left NY to go to DC.  (Actually Reston, VA)  We were there for about eight or nine years, until I was ten-years-old.  When I think of my true childhood--that idyllic time before adolescence--I think of Reston.  Given what an important time of life that is, I feel entitled to say that I'm "from" Reston (even if I haven't been there in almost three decades ;)

From Reston we went to Syracuse, NY.  It was a short stay--only four years--but they were such! important! years!  (middle school through my first year of high school)  My memories of Syracuse are so strong and the friendships I made there so lasting, that I feel completely comfortable saying it's where I'm from (and do so whenever I meet someone from Central New York).

We left Syracuse for Milwaukee, Wisconsin. (And if you think that was traumatic for me three days before my sophomore year of high school, you'd be correct.)  Little did I know that I'd fall in love with Wisconsin and stay in Milwaukee all the way through college (and even a little beyond).  In fact, I ended up marrying a boy from my high school and long after my parents left the area, his remained.  As a result, we were regular visitors to Milwaukee until three years ago when they finally sold the family home and retired to Mexico.  So am I from Milwaukee?  You betcha! (<-- My Milwaukee friends will understand that reference.)

From Milwaukee it was back to NYC but I was only there for about nine months.  I was a live-in nanny on the Upper West Side and to be honest, I was miserable.  I should probably write an entirely separate post about that, but for the purpose of this post, that was not a particularly important time of my life.

I left Manhattan to chase after that boy I mentioned earlier.  (I caught him btw, and we've been together for almost 20 years.)  He was living in Madison, WI at the time.  I lived there for one summer but seeing as that summer marked the beginning of a pretty magical relationship, Madison will always hold a special place in my heart.

After Madison I went to Chicago.  Rather, I should say that I followed the boy to Chicago.  I had been there maybe once before and knew nothing about it.  I had no job, no place to live, and no clue.  So imagine my surprise when fourteen years later I was still there.  It feels both natural and weird to say that I'm "from" Chicago.  On the one hand, it's the place I've lived the longest.  On the other hand, I didn't get there until I was an adult and being "from" somewhere implies that it's where you originated.  Do you see why this question throws me off?

(I should mentioned that I was not in Chicago for the entire 14 years.  After my husband graduated from law school he did a clerkship with a judge in Ft. Lauderdale.  We were there for two years and I LOVED it.  But even without those two years, Chicago is still the place I lived the longest.)

As much as I loved and will always identify with Chicago, the last few years there were hard.  I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder and the seven months of winter became progressively more difficult for me (especially after having had a taste of South Florida).  For that reason (and a number of others) we decided to relocate to San Diego.  We've been here for six years now and I absolutely love it!  In seven more years we'll have been here longer than we were in Chicago.  At that point I intend to tell people that it's where I'm from.  (And with any luck it will be where I remain!)

So, where are you from?

'Tween Room

My eleven-year-old daughter just upgraded from a twin bed to a full and overnight her bedroom went from Pottery Barn Kids to Pottery Barn T(w)een.  (But without the Pottery Barn price.)

I'm kicking myself for not taking a before shot.  I need to start thinking like a blogger.

Things aren't as pink as they appear in this Instagram photo.  (The bed and the furniture are actually white.)

She loves it and so do I.