Thursday, March 11, 2010

The Evolution of the Grouping, aka, The Rest of My Loot

I think it's high time that I show you my loot.

But let me start by saying, I have never made friends with the word "vignette".

Now vinaigrette, on the other hand, that word I like.

But vignette? It sounds hoity-toity to me. It brings to my mind elaborate museum displays that are to be looked at, not touched.

Yes, vignettes abound in blogville. And if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that ya'll are not a hoity-toity bunch.

I just can't do it. Consider this the note from my Mama, excusing me from gym class on dodge-ball day due to a mysterious ailment. Just trust me and maybe look the other way. I'll be back for floor hockey and bowling and that strange game in which we push one another around the gymnasium on the small, square, wheeled scooters.

I'll be with you for all the rest.

Having said that, it would be imprudent to bring home an orphaned Science lab cart, on casters, no less, and not doll her up a bit.

She needs a pretty little grouping. Lucky for her, the wire cloche that rode home piggy-back makes for the perfect starting point.

Lucky for her, Cory was the stealthy recipient of some cool, old Fix'er Up books.

Come to Mama, tiny golden hammers. We'll cozy you right up between the vintage telephone pole insulators.

That's right, baby.

Cory recently removed this decrepit knob from an old door and it's been mingling with the miscellaneous junk in the much despised, unofficial handy-man corner of my kitchen ever since.

Until now.

If you're gonna just sit around, Harriet, you might as well make yourself useful and look pretty.

I've very nearly reached pretty-little-grouping Nirvana.

But there's still something missing...

Enter a juicy, succulent Succulent.

Rumor has it, they're difficult to kill.

But I'm always up for a challenge.

I tucked my pot collection into the lower bunk.

Then I stepped back and swooned.

I really did.

I swooned, right here in my living/dining room.

Step back, Pottery Barn, with your overpriced wares.

Talk to the hand, Anthro.