Casa Walsh

Last week I signed up for organic produce delivery through Boston Organics. I chose the $25 50/50 box delivered weekly, on Wednesdays. Since last Wednesday, when I received my confirmation email, I’ve been counting down the days until the first delivery. I considered skipping my class so I could race right home and rescue the box from the porch.

As soon I was released from class I called Elias to check on “the box”. He couldn’t find it. No box. I nearly cried. Elias called back a few minutes later to say that he found the box on our upstairs neighbor’s landing. I would have been more surprised by this mix-up if I hadn’t introduced myself to our neighbor just a few days ago. Yes, we’ve been living a ceiling apart for almost six months, but I’ve never run into any of the three guys that live above us. Last week was the first street cleaning of the year and as the freaky pre-recorded bullhorn cruised down our street announcing “street cleaning – all cars on the even numbered side will be tagged and towed – street cleaning…” and at 7:30 am I managed to remember that DEB 100 was indeed on the even-numbered side of the street. Elias is even more useless at 7:30 am than I am, so I got up to move the car. And I ran into (literally) my neighbor putting out his trash. Rob introduced himself. “I’m Amanda,” I said. “Oh, I know your name,” he replied. “The mailman leaves your mail in our mailbox all the time.” Huh. I guess we’ll have to put #1 on our door and mailbox.

Moving on. I know I’m the guinea pig in this organic delivery service experiment, so for all of you dying to know what’s in the box, here you go:

2 apples, 3 oranges, 2 pears, 1 avocado, 1 pint of strawberries, 1 grapefruit, 1 green pepper, 1 bunch of brocolli and spring kale, 1 head of lettuce, and 9 potatoes. An impressive variety of produce.

My camera was out of batteries, so I asked Elias to snap the pictures. That explains this shot:

I’m just so excited. Yay.

Last week I signed up for organic produce delivery through Boston Organics. I chose the $25 50/50 box delivered weekly, on Wednesdays. Since last Wednesday, when I received my confirmation email, I’ve been counting down the days until the first delivery. I considered skipping my class so I could race right home and rescue the box from the porch.

As soon I was released from class I called Elias to check on “the box”. He couldn’t find it. No box. I nearly cried. Elias called back a few minutes later to say that he found the box on our upstairs neighbor’s landing. I would have been more surprised by this mix-up if I hadn’t introduced myself to our neighbor just a few days ago. Yes, we’ve been living a ceiling apart for almost six months, but I’ve never run into any of the three guys that live above us. Last week was the first street cleaning of the year and as the freaky pre-recorded bullhorn cruised down our street announcing “street cleaning – all cars on the even numbered side will be tagged and towed – street cleaning…” and at 7:30 am I managed to remember that DEB 100 was indeed on the even-numbered side of the street. Elias is even more useless at 7:30 am than I am, so I got up to move the car. And I ran into (literally) my neighbor putting out his trash. Rob introduced himself. “I’m Amanda,” I said. “Oh, I know your name,” he replied. “The mailman leaves your mail in our mailbox all the time.” Huh. I guess we’ll have to put #1 on our door and mailbox.

Moving on. I know I’m the guinea pig in this organic delivery service experiment, so for all of you dying to know what’s in the box, here you go:

2 apples, 3 oranges, 2 pears, 1 avocado, 1 pint of strawberries, 1 grapefruit, 1 green pepper, 1 bunch of brocolli and spring kale, 1 head of lettuce, and 9 potatoes. An impressive variety of produce.

My camera was out of batteries, so I asked Elias to snap the pictures. That explains this shot:

I’m just so excited. Yay.

There’s a reason IKEA furniture is so cheap. You have to put it together yourself. Or rather, your boyfriend has to put it together while you sit on the couch and knit. This is how our livingroom looks, as of this morning:

“work in progress”

Check out that sweet orange rug!

I bought some pretty flowers the night before the snowstorm, for a reminder that spring will show up eventually.

The giant Casablanca lilies were a present from Elias’s parents. I filled in the vase with a bunch of yellow stargazers. The funky black and white drink tray? $2.99 at IKEA.

There’s a reason IKEA furniture is so cheap. You have to put it together yourself. Or rather, your boyfriend has to put it together while you sit on the couch and knit. This is how our livingroom looks, as of this morning:

“work in progress”

Check out that sweet orange rug!

I bought some pretty flowers the night before the snowstorm, for a reminder that spring will show up eventually.

The giant Casablanca lilies were a present from Elias’s parents. I filled in the vase with a bunch of yellow stargazers. The funky black and white drink tray? $2.99 at IKEA.

Don’t worry, the Ikea post is coming. Part one will be up after lunch.

In the mean time, here’s a story about my morning commute:

I wait for the train at the very end of the Central Square outbound platform, by the Pearl Street entrance. This morning, there was a young dude, wearing a hooded sweatshirt under his black coat, hanging out inside the gate, between the entrance and the platform. I figured he was either waiting for someone who gets off at Central, or was the kind of guy who likes to wait until the train arrives before sliding his pass or dropping his token to release the revolving gate and enter the station.

The train comes and I hear a loud crash behind me. The dude has flung himself up onto the top of the revolving gate, wedging his body on this small shelf of metal between the gate and the entrance arch – maybe an opening of a fooot or so. He shimmies his body around and manages to drop to the platform. Unshaken, he strolls to the second car and boards the train.

I stared at him in fascination and shock. Awed by his display of physical dexterity and appalled because I like to follow the rules and if you want to ride the train you have to pay $1.25.

Has anyone seen anything like this before?

Don’t worry, the Ikea post is coming. Part one will be up after lunch.

In the mean time, here’s a story about my morning commute:

I wait for the train at the very end of the Central Square outbound platform, by the Pearl Street entrance. This morning, there was a young dude, wearing a hooded sweatshirt under his black coat, hanging out inside the gate, between the entrance and the platform. I figured he was either waiting for someone who gets off at Central, or was the kind of guy who likes to wait until the train arrives before sliding his pass or dropping his token to release the revolving gate and enter the station.

The train comes and I hear a loud crash behind me. The dude has flung himself up onto the top of the revolving gate, wedging his body on this small shelf of metal between the gate and the entrance arch – maybe an opening of a fooot or so. He shimmies his body around and manages to drop to the platform. Unshaken, he strolls to the second car and boards the train.

I stared at him in fascination and shock. Awed by his display of physical dexterity and appalled because I like to follow the rules and if you want to ride the train you have to pay $1.25.

Has anyone seen anything like this before?

I drove to IKEA on Sunday. Ok, I didn’t do any of the driving. Jillian rented a 15 passenger van, took out the seats, and drove me, Elias and Shawn to Elizabeth, New Jersey. It took us four hours to get to IKEA, including a 10 minute detour to visit the Newark airport.

IKEA is a strange place. A giant blue box in a landscape of smokestacks, highway and freightcars (and the Newark airport). On a Sunday afternoon it was swarming with people. Mostly families – I can’t tell you how many kids I nearly tripped over or ran down with my cart.

I only took one picture inside the showrooms.

There are small exhibit rooms filled with furniture and accessories – you know, a bedroom or bathroom or office outfitted entirely in IKEA products. Then they toss all of the sofas and easy chairs in a huge open space. Likewise with the bookshelves, and the kitchen tables, and so on.

When you decide on your ideal bathroom vanity, you check the tag and write down the warehouse number of the vanity box. Or, if it’s a blue tag, you find an employee who plugs something into a computer and gives you a printout to take to the checkout area.

All four of us had at least one blue tagged item. After paying, we shuttled our carts over to the waiting area. By this time, it was after 8 o’clock, official IKEA closing time. There were 20 or so people waiting for their blue tag furniture.

We waited for a long time. Jillian was the last person to have her named called. Probably because she had the most stuff.

Here’s my and Elias’s consolidated non-furniture cart:

Between the four of us, we had six carts. Honestly, I didn’t think we’d fit everything in the van, but due to some awesome Homer Simpson-esque Tetris skills, everything made it.

Hey! Look at that red-eyed demon head nestled in the right side of the van. It’s part of the EVIIL line of accessories.

Was it worth spending eight hours in a van? Sure. I came away the winner for least money spent ($202.16). I bought a big orange rug, an under-the-sink cabinet for the bathroom, a bathmat, an outdoor planter, some organizational stuff, and a bunch of kitchen accessories. Elias bought a desk, a TV stand and a million lamps. Right now it looks like we backed up the van and dumped the contents into our livingroom. Soon I hope to have pictures of our sweet Scandinavian enriched apartment.

Smells, I’ll take a picture of the planter. Jeeze. You could just come over, you know.

I drove to IKEA on Sunday. Ok, I didn’t do any of the driving. Jillian rented a 15 passenger van, took out the seats, and drove me, Elias and Shawn to Elizabeth, New Jersey. It took us four hours to get to IKEA, including a 10 minute detour to visit the Newark airport.

IKEA is a strange place. A giant blue box in a landscape of smokestacks, highway and freightcars (and the Newark airport). On a Sunday afternoon it was swarming with people. Mostly families – I can’t tell you how many kids I nearly tripped over or ran down with my cart.

I only took one picture inside the showrooms.

There are small exhibit rooms filled with furniture and accessories – you know, a bedroom or bathroom or office outfitted entirely in IKEA products. Then they toss all of the sofas and easy chairs in a huge open space. Likewise with the bookshelves, and the kitchen tables, and so on.

When you decide on your ideal bathroom vanity, you check the tag and write down the warehouse number of the vanity box. Or, if it’s a blue tag, you find an employee who plugs something into a computer and gives you a printout to take to the checkout area.

All four of us had at least one blue tagged item. After paying, we shuttled our carts over to the waiting area. By this time, it was after 8 o’clock, official IKEA closing time. There were 20 or so people waiting for their blue tag furniture.

We waited for a long time. Jillian was the last person to have her named called. Probably because she had the most stuff.

Here’s my and Elias’s consolidated non-furniture cart:

Between the four of us, we had six carts. Honestly, I didn’t think we’d fit everything in the van, but due to some awesome Homer Simpson-esque Tetris skills, everything made it.

Hey! Look at that red-eyed demon head nestled in the right side of the van. It’s part of the EVIIL line of accessories.

Was it worth spending eight hours in a van? Sure. I came away the winner for least money spent ($202.16). I bought a big orange rug, an under-the-sink cabinet for the bathroom, a bathmat, an outdoor planter, some organizational stuff, and a bunch of kitchen accessories. Elias bought a desk, a TV stand and a million lamps. Right now it looks like we backed up the van and dumped the contents into our livingroom. Soon I hope to have pictures of our sweet Scandinavian enriched apartment.

Smells, I’ll take a picture of the planter. Jeeze. You could just come over, you know.

…but not yet. Martha Stewart was convicted of a white collar crime. She acted on a tip from her stockbroker and lied about it. She’s a CEO, a celebrity, and a style icon. Was she singled out? Probably. Would I have done the same thing in her shoes? Probably. Will I continue to buy her magazines, watch her show, and drool over her collection of Jadite kitchenware. Absolutely.

To show my support, I finally mailed in my invoice for Everyday Food.

There’s an excellent chance that Martha will go to prison. While she’s serving time, she’ll need someone, or several someones, to fill in for her on her TV show. Martha, if you’re reading this, call me. I’ll do your baking spots.

I don’t need to come to your studio, just send over the production team. I’ve got the purple KitchenAid mixer, the Silpat baking mats, the cooling racks, the spring-form pans, and the ramekins. I can separate eggs with my eyes closed, I always sift my flour, and I have the greatest looking vintage cake and pie carrier ever.

Fran can do the gardening segments. Raz, indoor plant cultivation and care. Smells is handy with a paintbrush – he can do interior decorating.

For T-Shirts, go here

I just ordered the No Justice, No Quiche graphic on an apron. I’ll wear it when I do my baking spots.

And keep your eyes peeled for a crafty project entry from Swan’s Project Page tomorrow. Got to pick up the slack.

…but not yet. Martha Stewart was convicted of a white collar crime. She acted on a tip from her stockbroker and lied about it. She’s a CEO, a celebrity, and a style icon. Was she singled out? Probably. Would I have done the same thing in her shoes? Probably. Will I continue to buy her magazines, watch her show, and drool over her collection of Jadite kitchenware. Absolutely.

To show my support, I finally mailed in my invoice for Everyday Food.

There’s an excellent chance that Martha will go to prison. While she’s serving time, she’ll need someone, or several someones, to fill in for her on her TV show. Martha, if you’re reading this, call me. I’ll do your baking spots.

I don’t need to come to your studio, just send over the production team. I’ve got the purple KitchenAid mixer, the Silpat baking mats, the cooling racks, the spring-form pans, and the ramekins. I can separate eggs with my eyes closed, I always sift my flour, and I have the greatest looking vintage cake and pie carrier ever.

Fran can do the gardening segments. Raz, indoor plant cultivation and care. Smells is handy with a paintbrush – he can do interior decorating.

For T-Shirts, go here

I just ordered the No Justice, No Quiche graphic on an apron. I’ll wear it when I do my baking spots.

And keep your eyes peeled for a crafty project entry from Swan’s Project Page tomorrow. Got to pick up the slack.