Tag Archives: white houses

Next time around…

19 Jan

Do you know what’s going to happen? Because I can predict the future and all…. My sister, Ashley, is going to want Brad and I to design a house for her. She, quite frankly, loves everything we do. And that is her job as my little sister. To love what I do.

She was looking through the pictures of gappy floors last night. She loves them. Because I love them. Actually, she loves them because the look good. So on the list of things to do in a house for Ashley I have plank-like floors with gaps and I’d like to have some beam action in her ceiling—I’m not sure the technical term for these, if they are exposed ceiling joists or if they are just there for aesthetic purposes but nonetheless… this look is going in her file. She has a file now. Not a house. A file. But a file is a start. A file—how official do I sound?

Check out the beams/joists whatever in this Scandinavian-inspired home.

By the way, the bathrooms from the previous post—we scanned the pictures and when we rolled past the bathroom I mentioned as being something I would choose for her home she said, “I love that bathroom!” I know you do! I wrote about you and the fact that I thought it was so you. Clearly someone is not up on her blog reading—ahem… this is required reading little sis. I was totally smug about the fact that “I know” her style. I was. I’m sure I’ll be sent to the hardware store today for a dose of humility because I know nothing when I walk through the doors there.

Pictures via Martha Stewart. Because she’s brilliant.

Thanks for looking. Thanks for reading. Just plain thanks.

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In my dreams. My wild dreams.

9 Nov

Last weekend I roamed around on a few acres of farm land with a couple of friends, which made me do nothing but wish I could live in the city and country at the same time. I like to keep my wishing simple and easy to achieve, don’t I? The grass is always greener. Always. My remedy for this age-old problem is quite simply, oh, roaming around on 30 acres just outside of town and then remembering that I can walk to a handful of terrific restaurants from my front door. And, I don’t need a tractor to cut my grass. And, I can walk to my neighbor’s house instead of taking an all-terrain vehicle. Okay. That’s not really a perk. And those children I don’t have—well, they are zoned for the best public school in Nashville. Grass. Greener.

Suppose I had a few acres in the city limits. I’d call Brad Skipper and say, “Let’s build this.”

This house is compliments of Martha. Because she taught me everything I know.

What’s not to love? If I were going to run away from home, this is the sort of house I’d run toward. That big old table begs for a houseful of friends to sit around it. That piano is ready for somebody’s fingers to dance across its keys. Nothing short of lovely.