here via

m. r. carter

& sam berg

they say

it's the thought that counts;

and i'll tell you, friends, this

time it's true. thank you, dear

tim. how much fun was this?

mary randolph carter's new book is out.

& it is just as good as mrs. b says it is.

muse. editors. books. a film or two. knights.

burning blog-ish questions of late:

A.

when will elle decor make mitchell owens the head honcho?

isn't it time? he's the perfect editor for the publication,

and -- lord knows, especially these days -- don't all

publications need practically perfect editors?

B.

what publisher will wake up and smell the coffee

mrs. b brews so lovingly marvelously deliciously

for all of us in her sweet kitchen;

o! why do i have to wait sooo long to read

The Mrs. Blandings Book of Home Decor and Family Fun?

(she just saw Utah. now i have to go.)

C.

when will little augury enter the documentary

business? as in: with all of her yummy posts, shouldn't

someone start working with her to make short movies

about all of this? magnificent tidbits of design (and so

on and so forth) history. honestly. cannes needs her. really.

D.

when will mr. terestchenko's modern knights book be

available? soon, please?

All of the Above +

what's porter's next role in mad men?

she looks so remarkably swell

in those swanky glasses...

Awards Season

Beautiful Blogger Award

(or: the post that just keeps getting

simplified as the day goes on ;)

Knowing that it is a great honor to be among the

Magnificent 7 chosen by Gaye at Little Augury,

and the seven Beautiful Bloggers chosen by

Daniel at Hiberian Homme, I'll be sending out

two sets of awards. Seven Beautiful Bloggers:

Hollister Hovey

Mrs. Blandings

Ancient Industries

365blanc

The House of Beauty and Culture

Little Augury

Ivan Terestchenko

[the tradition of the award, once received,

is to name seven more beautiful blogs &

tell us seven things we might not know about

you...have you but world enough, and time]

photo: cecil beaton

nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be

Both of these books arrived at our little abode

in the last few days and I am in love, I cannot

help but admit it. Hadley Head, for sure (and

this copy is signed! 'Tho not to me. Heh. But,

hey, it was online and such a good price...how

could I not?). And Lagerfeld's bookshelves (&

paintbrushes!) in The Selby. What's not to adore?

I realize the books may seem a like of bit of an

odd couple, but something about the two of them

getting here together gives me great pleasure.

[all you need is love]

Hadley via NYSID

Selby via contain.r

so "very discriminating"

So magnificent!

The House of Beauty and Culture

(& thank you for the quote,

marvelous Mrs. Blandings)

images via

The House of Beauty and Culture

+

Corbu's Cave

by the way

mrs. blandings is going to los angeles

and that's a very very good thing (&

okay, i know the above isn't LA, but

i came across it here while looking

for palm trees & there you go). so:

hurrah, Patricia! Can't wait to hear

all about this sunny trip-to-be...

Ralph Rides Again (via Mrs. B.)

Mrs. Blandings always finds such great goods:

the latest, with an assist from Kansas City's Stuff.

See here. Above, a treasure from the vault.

pinkie swear: promise yourself

in reference to a note from

the magnificent mrs. blandings

regarding

an important cause

click any line above for more information

next-times

Well. We just walked in from Julie and Julia (the other part of we being he who just got off a plane and is "the butter to my bread"). And I cried during the movie. Not just once, but probably a half dozen times. Why? Because a blog (that silly word) can change your life. And because it was a joy to see two strong women, both artists, persevere (and cry a little, too). Good to see a couple of husbands that supported these strong women, these artists. And (especially) good to see someone else on the kitchen floor having a meltdown. I don't know that any of my meltdowns have been on the kitchen floor (more likely the front hall, as misfortune would have it); they, have, though, felt a lot like slipping on stuffing and feeling that the world just sploched down around you and the chicken.

Just about all I could think of during the movie was this little blog, which I've entertained giving up on in the past couple of weeks. Why blog? There's no money in it. If you're not seriously self-promotional, there's probably not going to be someone calling you up for the big design job of your dreams. It's hard to blow your own horn and have anyone want to listen for long. I've been hesitant to trot out most of my published work, and I'm not sorry for that. A perfectionist, I always see what could have been done better. An optimist, I always hope I'll get to do it absolutely right the next time. So the little blog simply became a way to communicate what seemed to matter a bit at the moment. Next time was for later.

Here's the thing about next-times: we just don't know when we're going to have them. On a quick jaunt back to see a marvelous young man (my sister's oldest child) graduate from high school, I went for a walk (day after the graduation) on a lovely and somewhat steamy afternoon in Northern Virginia. The rest is sort of a long story, but the gist of it is that I ended up in an emergency room courtesy of a heart problem I've had for ages (since birth, we now know) which had remained elusive (though it's popped up often in the past seven years) and troublesome (when is it not troublesome that doctors cannot find what is wrong but it happens over and over?) and honestly pretty darned frightening. My brave brother-in-law had the pleasant (I am so sorry to have put him through it) assignment of getting me to the hospital. Again. It's a long story.

Where I'm going, though, is that for five and a half days I had time to think about next-times in the surprising surrounds of the cardiac unit of a hospital. Turns out, I had something called atrioventricular nodal reentry tachycardia. And (I was truly lucky to end up where I did, in the hospital I was in, surrounded by loving family and excellent caregivers, including someone named Ed that I am pretty sure is an angel, an angel that used to be in the Army and is now a critical care nurse at Fairfax Hospital) the good news was that a brilliant team of doctors was able to take care of the situation with a procedure that (during the brief time I was awake) looked more like something out of a fabulous science fiction movie (think myriad computers, doctors on monitors, screens showing small armies of rogue cells being zapped) than anything else I could think of.

So what about next-times? We might be very thankful to get them. I am. What I know about the blog is that it has brought no money, a few small jobs, and untold fortune into my life. A half-dozen once-upon-a-time friends have found me through it, friends from long ago, and I know how lucky I am for that. A few dozen more have been introduced to me. Several of these people have changed the course of my life with wit and wisdom and the sort of caring attitude that speaks to your soul as nothing else can. Do I believe in something bigger in the universe? Yes. Has it, in part, made itself clear to me through this silly word (blog)? Yes again. I have a name for this bigger part of the universe. Your name for it might be different.

But I sat out in a small garden under a sky with a few stars scudded about and a soft summer's night breeze one evening in Virginia, about a month ago, and told that part of the Universe that I love that I would be grateful to have my heart working well again. It had made me so very tired, for so very many years, and it would be a great relief to catch my breath once more (it often felt as though there was never enough quite enough oxygen).

And I realized, then and now and I hope forever, that strange things work their way in the universe, that silly words change lives, that people you love and care about abound if you will only let them. That spending time on this blog gave me hope (and even love) when I was tired and worn out and had no clear reason why. That the love given me by my family and friends is an inestimable treasure, the only fortune with which I will leave this world.

It all sounds a little serious, I know, but getting your heart repaired causes one to consider a few things.

Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.

More Butter (und Käse) for Mrs. B

house tour with mrs. blandings

mrs. b is currently conducting one

of the most delightful house tours 

you can imagine. rose tarlow is 

there, thanks to the ever-enlightening

aesthete. really, you should stop by.

above: one of my all-time favorite exteriors, 

by miles redd and gil schafer...

via the house of beauty and culture

From Fabulous Mrs. Blandings: All the News that's Fit to Print

Mrs. B: Hammerpress and Miss Gracious Living

What could be better?

cool beans

Just Thinking

Whew. It's busy right now, here at homestead Thorne. Our redhead is just back from six months in Germany, bringing with him a delightful friend. 

So: we have a heavenly house guest for the next two weeks, and another chick back in the nest for a bit longer, and lots of activity and friends stopping by and various and sundry other things going on.

Thusly, while we're at all this, may I re-direct you to a blog that has been a continuous source of delight and sustenance since stumbling upon it several months ago? 

Mrs. Blandings is the perfect tonic for our times: erudite, blessed with a lovely eye, and utterly charming. Now, go, be her house guest for a bit. 

And, please, please, do come back and visit us in a day or two. When some of the dust settles. For goodness sakes.

Here: Mrs. B. on February. And here: Mrs. B. on Photography. And here: Mrs. B. on everything else. 

You will love it all, I hope, as I do.

[photo, above? check Mrs. B. and see]

Mrs. Blandings Goes To New York

just noticed:

whilst we were traipsing around 

posting our SFDC finds, 

the fabulous Mrs. Blandings posted 

more magnificence from the NYGF

she is the consummate 

ur-shopping-treasure-finder poster, 

in my book...so, wanted to give a hat-tip 

and send you all off to KC and NYC courtesy

 of the magnificent magical mrs. b.!

photo copyright: the brilliant mrs. blandings, of course 

Well, I can't seem to get a photo to attach, but who needs it when they can go look at HHH?

Hollister, what hath thou wrought? How groovy are your kitchen ideas? How hard is it not to want all this yummy stuff? Geez louise.

And I love it that Mrs. Blandings (see comment) and brilliant Porter Hovey are looking at the tile floors...and the bathroom fixtures. I've been know to do that once or twice (and the looks you get when you take just a few snapshots of floors and fixtures...my goodness!). Wondering if I should publish my infamous Red Bar bathroom ("I just want to remember the magnificent color you picked, Kirk") shot, or the one in the women's wc at the New York Public Library, where I was so taken by the marble sinks (as dear T.D. said, "You could have a bat mizvah in there"). 

Good design is everywhere, thank heavens. And Hollister and Mrs. Blandings and Porter have quite the knack for finding it.  

Btw, if you didn't see the Astor Resurrection: here it is. To die for. I have long lived for the Thursday New York Times, as it has both Style and Home. What more could you ask for?

Jane, I'm glad we did your kitchen in walnut and white, with scads of good marble and warm floors. So glad.