Tag Archives: Florida

Color My World

Today I stumbled across a Facebook post with a picture of a very purple kitchen. The person who posted it said, “Can’t wait for the comments.”  Mine was, “I love it!”

I noticed the photo had been shared from another source, a listicle of the worst kitchen fails. It’s one thing if you install a cabinet that blocks an adjacent drawer from opening and don’t fix it; that is sort of a fail. But a good many of the kitchens that made the list were given  down for color choice.

Screen Shot 2018-04-07 at 12.17.16 PMWhen did we become so judgmental of personal tastes, and yes, maybe even needs? Maybe the proud owner of this kitchen is somehow enriched by the color purple. Maybe it gives a whimsical energy to what can be a lot of kitchen drudgery.

Maybe this Hello Kitty kitchen is a tribute to somebody the designer once loved—even her own inner child. Maybe hers, or any of the other’s who dared to paint their kitchensScreen Shot 2018-04-07 at 12.14.27 PM outside the pallet of beige and brown, were repressed in their love of bright colors. Maybe this is their way to break free, be surrounded with the colors of their dreams and finally stop giving a flying fuck in hell what anybody thinks of it, thank you.

Maybe it’s none of our business what people do with their personal spaces, even those seen publicly—like window trim, front doors, the cars we drive, the clothes we wear. This is a sarcastic maybe. You get that, right?

I’ve always been free with the application of color in my life. I like bright, brilliant colors because I live in a northern region of the United States with many more dark than sunny days—and I have S.A.D. My wardrobe is full of purple, fuchsia, lime green, hot turquoise and more of the tropical rainbow.

My first branding colors for the MAD Goddess were Orchid and Orange, a contrasting pallete that wasn’t much seen then. Now I see it everywhere. I have since muted my orange, and I’m not sure why. That’s for another time, I guess.

After enduring a small, dimly lit kitchen for the first several years of my marriage, when we remodeled and I designed the 24 x 12 foot real cook’s kitchen of my dreams, I choose a nice, sedate, medium oak for the cabinets. Then I installed dark, green-cork pattern commercial vinyl squares on the floor and painted the walls bright apple green. I got a lot of judgment. I didn’t care.

Unable to sprout wings and fly to some tropical destination with the first signs of fall, I once painted my bedroom in the colors of an ocean sunset and hung deep coral colored sheers on the windows so the light coming through them made the room glow. I was told it looked like a brothel. I didn’t care.

I share my space with another human being. I kind of like him. Okay, I like him a lot, but—please— his favorite color is brown. If not for him, I just might paint my cabinets inScreen Shot 2018-04-07 at 12.14.54 PM these colors that remind me of a candy necklace and happy childhood memories. He might have another heart attack if I did. I didn’t cause the first one and I sure don’t want to cause any subsequent infarctions. However, there’s nothing stopping me from having a collection of dishes in shades of these delicious colors—Hello Fiesta.

Studies on the effect of color on mood abound. All of us react differently. So it’s okay if you would never paint your kitchen purple, or candy necklace colors, or eye-popping green. But it’s not okay for you to pass your highfalutin judgment on those who do.

Screen Shot 2018-04-07 at 12.13.21 PM

And btw, If I ever get that snow bird park model I’m dreaming of in south Florida, I’m painting the cabinets this color with glass tile backsplash in multi-shades of sea-glass. Ditch the dark wood accents and decorate with an ocean theme. And a mermaid. There has to be a mermaid.

Note: All of these photos came from the same Worst Kitchens Ever source. I am not linking it because I don’t want to give them traffic. If you want to see it, use your google.

 

 


Cold Swimming

I live north, way up north, bordering Canada north. The summers here are absolutely gorgeous, but short lived. Every day after the last of August that the sun shines and the temperature approaches something over 70-degrees I’m counting my lucky sunbeams.

We’re doing pretty good this year.  I was in the pool (above ground, not heated) on September 25th. I think that might be a record. You must understand, I’m conditioned to cold water swimming. I grew up swimming in Lake Superior—the largest and coldest of the Great Lakes. Average summer water temperature is about 65-degrees on the surface. My pool mimics this to a T; it was 64-degrees the last time I was in it.

I’m thinking this might be healthy? I know it’s pretty dang refreshing.

penguin-56101_640

Penguins only live about 20 years. But they live in harsh conditions most other creatures cannot survive. I wouldn’t live a day in the Antartic, so I’m figuring I can get by with saying they are healthy old birds under the circumstances. Me too. I’m sure it’s the cold water swims—just let me have this one.

Sometimes, we (hubby and I)  go to Florida in the winter. The people there are like, “The water in the pool is so cold. They need to turn the heater up.”

I get in and I’m thinking it’s just a big bathtub at 84-degrees. It makes me all sleepy and wrinkly skinned like one of those cute-pathetic puppies that hasn’t grown into its skin-suit yet.

Come to think of it, everybody in those Florida pools looks that way.

I stayed at an RV park in Picayune Mississippi once, in February. They had an olympic sized swimming pool just sitting there, filled but not open for the season yet. I told them if they started the filter and opened the pool, I’d go swimming. So they did.

First day in it took me almost five minutes to ease my whole body into the frigid water, but once I did and then didn’t have a stroke, it was kind of a rush—like what I imagine taking speed must be like. I just felt alive and electric all over. Or maybe that was the tingle before going completely numb.

Anyway, I was blissfully swimming my laps, completely unaware that a crowd had gathered behind the two sets of double patio doors in the clubhouse, overlooking the pool.

After that I was the crazy lady from Wisconsin.

“Hey, Wisconsin, you going swimming today?” any of a number of residents would call out as I rode my bike through the park.

“You betcha, as soon as that sun peeks out from behind those there clouds.”

There was a thee-foot tall monkey living in that park. Her human kept her on a leash and dressed her in very feminine little shirts and skirts—size 2-T. She sat in a highchair and ate with the rest of the residents at the monthly potlucks.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ve really lived this life, or if I did decide to take that speed way back when in high school, when my friends offered it, and all of this has just been one wild trip.

*       *       *       *       *

I’ve been blogging all month long with the wildy talented Effy Wild! It’s been a blast and

Screen Shot 2017-09-01 at 11.25.50 AM

Vist Effy’s Website

I can’t thank her enough for putting the challenge out there. The MADGoddess has her mojo back again!


%d bloggers like this: