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The Feathered Nest

The softer side of MaisonBisson

Axe Table September 9, 2012

Chris Duffy of the so-called “Grimm design collective” designed this table around Little Red Cap. Web searches reveal nearly nothing about such a collective, but Duffy’s website features a number of other amusing tables.

 

New Kitchen Shelving April 22, 2012

TowerGirl @ 8:29 am
Tags: , , , , ,

 

I love my apartment. In a city like San Francisco, where the rental market has higher stakes than a professional poker game, you are often forced to settle for a place that has only few of the characteristics you want. Our apartment is nearly the perfect: great location, a parking space, great light, high ceilings, spacious living space, and an office/guest room. The one blemish on all this perfection is the kitchen. It’s small and not terribly user-friendly. If you are a gal like me who loves to cook, it’s a problem.

What you see above is what we have to the left of the kitchen entrance. What you see below are the Ikea butcher-block carts we’d placed to the right of the the entryway to give a bit more counter space and a bit of storage.

The problem is it just hasn’t been enough storage. I tried attaching hooks to the carts, I added some bins, but it always looked messy and things were hard to get to.

Yesterday, my genius of a husband built me shelving and a pot rack to add to the carts. The result is organization bliss. Ahhh!

Now, I do believe my apartment in just about perfect.

 

 

 

Steamer Trunk Desk May 7, 2011

 

This steamer trunk desk at Restoration Hardware folds up and hides away in a sufficiently large room. Now I just need $3,500 and a sufficiently large room. This might work.

 

Comfort, Thy Name Is Sumo October 17, 2008

TowerGirl @ 11:37 am
Tags: , , , ,

Sumosac

Newton on Sumosac Sandee on Sumosac Sandee on Sumosac SumoSac in living room SumoSac assembly SumoSac filling

I sink into a strange, giant blue marshmallow and sigh contentedly. I balked at this new furniture.  I balk at anything that I don’t actually pick out.  I didn’t pick this out, Casey acquired it on his own. Our home is small and I am very picky about what goes into it.  This was a beanbag. A beanbag? I can’t think of a more immature piece of furniture. 

Casey was gone when the package arrived. I had to lug the massive black sack up the stairs to our condo. I dragged it up another flight of stairs to Casey’s office while cursing him under my breath. We needed a giant beanbag like we needed our cats to have a sudden, severe outbreak of fleas. I pushed through his office door then pulled it closed and left the sack for him to deal with.

We got busy. The big black sack sat unopened.

One day, I arrived home to find Casey in his office with a large, slate blue object in his office. He had it opened, revealing the innards of this upholstered oddity while he snapped photos. It was a bit disturbing, like a furniture autopsy. I left my mad scientist to his own devices and went downstairs to make dinner.

Days passed. I had no reason to go into the office. I again forgot about the beanbag.

Periodically, I feel the need to go on a crazed cleaning spree. The need hit me. Vacuum in hand, I opened the door to Casey’s office. The door opened a bit then resisted my my efforts to move any further. I dropped the vacuum and squeezed my body through the narrow opening between door and frame. The object blocking my entrance is a puffy blue thing that stands as high as my chest. I can’t believe how large it had grown. Tentatively, I reach out my hand to touch this strange object. The fabric is some sort of ultra-suede and soft. I lean against it, gently at first. Then I surrender the weight of my body to the beanbag and sink into it.

As a kid, I loved the Care Bears. You remember, those pastel bears with hearts and rainbows on their chest. They slept on clouds. I always thought it would be lovely to nap on a cloud. Now that the beanbag has come into my life I can attest that napping on soft pillowy perfection, like the clouds of Saturday morning cartoons, is indeed lovely. I stayed on the beanbag until Casey got home. Then he joined me. The beanbag fits two quite nicely.

Calling it a beanbag doesn’t really do it justice. It is larger and softer than any other beanbag I have known, any other object I have known. It is decadent. I have rearranged my living room to make room for it. I don’t undertake redecoration lightly.

Love at first sight makes a good movie or a pink jacketed book. I am a sucker for those movies and those books, but I also have been around long enough to know that the best relationships are the ones that develop over time. I can’t say that my love for my Sumo Sultan was love at first sight, that would cheapen what we have. My feelings are deeper and gentler, more complex. When Sumo holds me, cradling me in its cozy embrace, I know that my feelings are returned. I have also given Casey permission to make the occasional independent decorating decision. Perhaps beanbags and I have both matured.

 

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