Help! I'm crowd-sour

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Help! I'm crowd-sourcing today...I need a title for my book! The book publishing Gods (BPGs) don't like the name The Psychologie of Home because of the French spelling of psychologie and they don't want me to use the English version of psychology because it doesn't match my instagram account and might confuse people. The BPGs don't think we're all that smart obviously. And I might just fight for The Psychologie of Home anyway because dammit I like it. The book is largely based on my Instagram account...a longer version of my short stories woven together with images of my interior design work with some other fun stuff peppered in throughout. It needs a great title! And I'm truly awful at this part. Want proof? My last book was The Denim Diet: Sixteen Simple Habits to Get You Into Your Dream Pair of Jeans. See what I mean? In my defense, I was a wardrobe stylist at the time (2009) so the connection to jeans made more sense then. Even so...that's a really dumb title. I can't let that happen this time. I'm thinking the subtitle will be...The Only Interior Design Book That Will Make You Laugh, Think, and Occasionally Cry. The BPGs don't like this either as it doesn't solve a problem, which apparently non-fiction books are supposed to do. The BPGs gave me the example of “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing” as a successful book title. This didn't help me come up with a great book title, but it did inspire me to clean out my nightstand drawer. Any ideas smart friends? I can't offer you financial rewards, but I will gladly credit you in the book if I end up using your idea. Any help is appreciated! Today's images are for those who also suck at coming up with book titles and just wanna look at pretty images of a stunning home in Santa Ynez, California by designer @ritachaninteriors / Photography: @caterphotography / via @dominomag
I spent the last two

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I spent the last two days at a networking event (via zoom) for entrepreneurs. It's one of those pay to join organizations and some of the members have been in the group for a long time. I was coming in along with several others as the newbie. I'll share a little story to illustrate what the 14-hour ordeal was like for me. When my son was in kindergarten, I made him join a soccer team. He didn't want to, but his reason was that he didn't know how to play soccer (duh kid, that's how you learn). On the first day of practice, he turned his hooded sweatshirt around and put the hood over his face and then ran around flailing his arms and barking like a dog. He refused to stop when the coach asked him and went from barking to quacking like a duck. At that point, I walked backwards further and further from the field and my embarrassing son. 10 weeks later, at the team party celebrating the end of the season, my son won the award for most improved player. It turns out he was pretty great at soccer, but struggles with beginnings and new things. He doesn't like not knowing how to do something and the feeling that he doesn't belong.   Like mother, like son. I'm hanging out exactly right here in my home, thinking about those feelings of not belonging, not being as accomplished as everyone else, and not bringing my best self to the game. Looking forward to the end of the season party. 🎉🥳🎈🍾👑
Today's calm and tra

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Today's calm and tranquil home tour is how I'd like to feel inside right now, but I'm filled with anxiety and worry instead—not my usual "everything's gonna be alright" state of mind. The subject of my mind's dismay is my dog George. He has face cancer. In more technical terms, he has a malignant tumor growing out of the adorable folds on his little Frenchie cheek right below his eye. The pathology report says it's a squamous cell carcinoma. Whatever it is, it's made me a wreck. If you're a French Bulldog owner, your veterinarian automatically thinks you're an idiot. This breed has nothing but problems, and due to its popularity, has been overbred by unscrupulous ne'er do wells, which creates even more problems. Our little George is up to his eyeballs (literally) in issues. He has intervertebral disc disease, an elongated soft palate, his nostrils are too small, he eats things like tea light candles (sharp metal prong and all), and now he's got face cancer. We've had three Frenchies, all rescues, and call me crazy, but I'd do it again. These dogs are nothing but lovers. George is currently snoring between my legs, under the covers, and resting his head on my foot. He thinks he and I are attached and he'd be right. He is worth the trouble, the vet bills, the fancy Chinese herbs that help his disc disease, and the anxiety and worry. I'm telling you because A) you're a bunch of really nice people and maybe you'll think a nice thought or say a little prayer for my boy George B) maybe someone has had a similar situation and can tell me it's gonna be alright C) You can share your tales of doggy woe and we can collectively albeit virtually be there for each other. Or you can just look at this lovely, peace-inducing home and enjoy the view. Interior Designer + Architect: @callacane Photographer: @ellenmcdermottnyc Stylist: @annamolvik Builder: Kramer Lane Construction Via: @ruemagazine
My coming of age yea

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My coming of age years were the 80s, but it's the 70s that carry all the nostalgia for me. In the world of interior design, this decade (the redheaded stepchild of the modern eras), gets tossed out as too groovy. I miss the swagger and swank of the 70s and the simpler times it evokes for me when I was building forts and having my first crushes, like cutie Quinn in the third grade. He and I had the best time pulling each other’s hair and playing at recess. It was the sweetest little romance until he did a terrible thing. He called my house and asked to speak to me. DUDE!!! When my parents questioned me about it, I turned bright red and denied that I knew the kid. Thank God he flunked third grade so I didn't have to see him the next year. My next crush was Drew in 6th grade, and friends, I knew how to pick em’—he had an in-ground pool with a diving board! Do you even know how outstanding of a diver I was? Show off city! Other girls might have had more feminine assets, but my back flip into a tight somersault which I landed with pointed toes and barely a splash was definitely going to get this kid's attention. Nailed it! I ruined things when I got too weird and told him (via a very long note) all the things I was insecure about. Then came the 80s. There's no doubt a connection between lying on your sofa 24/7 watching endless music videos on MTV and the absolutely awful interior design from this “material girl” era. It got us way into music and I do miss playing records for hours on end. We'd listen to the entire side of an album and rarely would we skip to a song we liked better because we’d have to get up out of our beanbag chair and that took effort. Next crush was Sean, a drummer whose hair was absolute perfection. Drummer Sean was not a safe choice. He got us tickets to see Rush and it would have been a great night, but Sean was clearly on drugs and hit not one, but two mailboxes on our way to the concert. I was wise enough to ditch him and get a different ride home. Hello self-preservation! Nice to know you’re in my arsenal of tools. This home tour via @a1000xbetter is beyond swoonworthy with its 70s-inspired vibe. 📸: @virtuallyherestudios 😎💫
What does a downdraf

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What does a downdraft vent have to do with iceberg lettuce? I'm really glad you asked. Iceberg lettuce gets constantly passed off as the "unhealthy" lettuce. Nutrition experts tell us we should be eating kale, spinach, or romaine instead because they are a healthier choice. But iceberg lettuce is still lettuce. It's not a cheeseburger or a Krispy Kreme doughnut! Iceberg lettuce isn't unhealthy, it's just not as superior as those other lettuces. Cue the downdraft range. When you compare a downdraft vent to an old ceiling fan that's sticky and full of lint from years of food particles wafting into its blades, it will seem like a superhero from one of those idiotic Marvel movies. But when you compare it to a ceiling hood with unbeatable kitchen ventilation that can remove the stink of fish, onions, and garlic in less than 30 seconds, the downdraft is gonna seem a little shittier. But it still does the job of venting. Just like iceberg still does the job of being lettuce. In short, downdraft vents are the iceberg lettuce of appliances and this analogy can be applied to lots of stuff. Labeling things as bad, wrong, or unhealthy isn't always necessary. Sometimes it's just not AS good, great, or superior. Faux plants vs. real. Engineered floors vs. solid wood. Feather down vs. down alternative. Brown rice vs. quinoa. Tuesday vs. Friday. The list goes on... Just something to ponder on this fine Tuesday morning. Images are before and afters of a kitchen I designed with a perfectly acceptable and functional downdraft vent. Photos by @kaitlinmgreen_photo
Your biggest fear is

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Your biggest fear is not spiders or sharks—it’s you. It’s the fear of expressing who you are—lest someone actually see you. @JamesVictore wrote that in his book Feck Perfuction. Using reverse psychologie, for my 2nd installment of #readologie I'm going to do everything in my power to get you to read this mind-changing page turner. (Aren't the French spelling of words so adorable?) SIDE NOTE: For the newcomers who are curious why I use the French spelling of psychologie for my Instagram account...I joke and say it's because I have French bulldogs, but it's actually because the English spelling was taken by someone with exactly one post. It annoyed me for like one second, but then I embraced being a little different and hey, it worked for Anthropologie right? Don't read Feck Perfuction if you prefer reading books that are hard to get into and don't get to the heart of the matter until midway through. Victore says on page 3, "Inspiration without action is bullshit." Don't read Feck Perfuction if you like self-help authors who offer a gentle nudge rather than hit you over the head. Victore says, "Don't contort yourself to fit into box, or a square or a cubicle. The world has enough safe, bland, dull crap." Don't read Feck Perfuction if you read the word "freedom" and think nah, I don't need that. Victore says, "No one gives you freedom. It is not earned or doled out over time. You take it, through bold and brave moves. Freedom is a leap. It's taking the jump and believing that you'll land safely, or at least won't die. It's the REWARD for putting faith in yourself and your voice." Don't read Feck Perfuction if you already know everything. Victore says, "Teach your tongue to say I DON'T KNOW. Don't read Feck Perfuction if you believe you are unworthy of a beautiful and meaningful life. Obviously, there are many reasons to not read this book, but I hope none of them resonated with you. The images here are the very first kitchen I designed. It was my ex-boyfriend's, but we were living together so I felt some ownership—enough to rip his kitchen apart and replace it with some very creative, but risky design choices. I hope he and his fiancé are enjoying it.
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