I got stung by a fucking hornet last weekend.

That’s right.

I cursed. (Something I don’t normally do on here)

That’s how much it hurt.

But it was worth it.

There was a hornet’s nest hidden in the pinecone wreath that used to hang on our front door. The orange front door. On our street, our neighbors refer to us as the house with the orange front door.

Were known.

I had to take the wreath down so our contractors could install our new front door. Now we’ll have to be known as the house with the unbelievably beautiful mahogany front door.

Because that’s what we are now.

Cruising through our local Seconds and Surplus, we stumbled on the perfect front door.

This one:

We’ve been looking for this door for over 6 years.

We’ve been looking for this door, at a reasonable price, for over 6 years.

“Hello Mike, When can you come over?”

(Insert random shots of our contractors replacing the front door)

I know that y’all are slightly disappointed that two DIYers like ourselves would call a contractor…..but there are a few things beyond our realm of expertise. This is one of those projects. (Obviously, the master bathroom is another)

Our new door was 1/2″ taller than the old one.

Mike and Kenny had to replace the threshold.  (I’d still be working on that by next Christmas.)

This way…alls I had to do was paint the new trim. Somehow, there were three different woods.

Ready for it?

TAAAAAA DAAAAAA!

Breath-taking, Ain’t she?

Prettiest door in Oak Cliff.

I know, we still need to pick a stain. And we will, soon.

Here’s a slightly broader shot.

We think it looks more like “adults” live here.

Fooled ’em all we did.

Y’all might notice that big turquoise pot to the left.

That’s Jamie’s new fountain. My new second favorite front yard feature.

I didn’t document much of the install, it wasn’t fun, but there she is for all to enjoy.

Big changes around here.

BIG!

“What happened to the old orange door?” you ask.

Jamie set it by the curb……..and someone took it. How about that?

We’ll never need it again anyways.

HAPPY JULY 4th, Y’ALL

I’m sure everyone has heard that Muhammad Ali died last week.

(Pretty crappy year for legends so far…Bowie, Harper Lee, George Martin, Prince…)

I came across this Ali quote, and it’s something that I truly believe…and just had to share,

“Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they’ve been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It’s an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It’s a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing.”

Anyhoo,

Pretty great man, he’ll be mised

Hey,

Remember me?

I know, I know…..it’s been a while since the last blog post.

Things are happening. Top secret things. And that’s where my focus has been the past few months. Sorry for the secrecy, but all will be revealed shortly. It’s really pretty exciting.

At least Jamie has been extra busy around the homestead. (More on that to come as well.)

But first….Remember the beach photographer Gray Malin that I’m obsessed with? Well, he put together a book of his dreamy overhead photos.

And then he came to humble little Dallas, Texas to promote the thing……

And guess who got a personal invitation to the book signing? Go on, guess…..

It was me!

Probably because I bought one of his pictures.

This one….Nude Beach Barcelona

If you look at it closely…you can see naughty bits.

Of course I was stuck working in Houston for his appearance…….(sad face)

So I called the shop, 4510 on McKinney, and they had him sign one for me….

(I think it looked like this)

Anyhoo,  I picked it up the other day.

And it’s almost like I was there.

Now I’m ready for summer.

This isn’t for everyone,

That’s for sure….

But I’m mad about this place. Stumbled on Matt’s Minneapolis apartment on Apartment Therapy the other day and I was smitten. Usually that site is filled with boring white boxes desecrated with the same Ikea crap, aqua chevron throw pillows, white cer-animals….and books arranged by color. (when will that one end?) But not Matt. He marches to his own drummer/decorator.

Matt has surrounded himself with all the things that have a meaning to him….

…and I understand. I really, really do.

Here, take a peek.

Yepp,

This dude has a gas pump AND a jukebox in his dining room. SWOON

Did you see all the pillows on his bed? Matt’s childhood dirt bike? The Pendleton Chief Joseph blanket? The toy cars? Pond Yacht? Wall-sized Basquiat? Bowling Pins? It’s like a big game of “Eye Spy”.

And not a single piece from Pottery Barn.

A man after my own heart.

Well done, Matt. Well done indeed.