Who remembers the hit 1980s sitcom “ALF”? ALF was a furry, chest-high alien with a caustic sense of humor and a vaguely Brooklyn accent.  He crashed his spaceship into the suburban home of the Tanners, a mild-mannered, droopy-faced family of four.  Most episodes revolved around ALF’s hilarious refusal to assimilate to the customs of his hosts.  

Back on ALF’s home planet, they ate cats for dinner and used lint as currency (dryer vent or belly button, I’m not sure which).  Gravel and foam were also quite valuable.  Gold and platinum were almost worthless.

ALF taught us kids a valuable lesson: To fear the government and its Alien Task Force.  That the true value of objects is culturally assigned: One planet’s trash is another’s treasure.

And that is the spirit that must fill one’s heart and mind on Saturday mornings in June — the peak of the North American Yard Sale Season.   As a public service to the Amateur Bargain Hunter, the team at Projectophile has assembled an Official Field Guide to this semi-legal informal economy.

15 DOCUMENTED YARD SALE SPECIES:*

The Collector Sale:  Who knew that the “Last Supper” was available as a plate, plaque, cigar box and belt buckle? Ever had the urge to collect Alvin and the Chipmunks memorabilia or Drunk Hobo figurines? Maybe now would be a good time to start.

There was no Facebook in Jesus’ time.

I wasn’t kidding about the Drunk Hobos

The Reluctant Multi-Family Sale Family Sale:  In many communities, neighbors band together to hold sprawling, block-long, collective yard sales. The amateur bargain hunter may be lured by the festive atmosphere and the promise of better selection. However, I’ve found that most of the individual families simply don’t have anything to offer, but feel pressured to participate, thus diminishing the overall quality of the event.

The Church Rummage Sale:  Much like the Reluctant Multi-Family Yard Sale Families, church members scrape up whatever they can find in their crawl spaces because they fear they might not get to heaven without contributing.  And a warning for those of us who are uncomfortable having conversations about Jesus with total strangers while cornered in dark, musty church basements — there may also be proselytizing.  On the upside, Church Rummage Sales usually offer tasty and reasonably-priced (sometimes free) hot dogs, lemonade and cookies to the weary bargain hunter.

The Underwhelming Selection Sale:  ­ This seller just cleaned out her junk drawer and put it on a card table on her lawn.  May also be spotted at the Multi-Family Sale.

Something for everyone!

The Creepy Hoarder Estate Sale:  This gentleman hasn’t thrown a damn thing out since 1959. And now he’s dead. And his relatives don’t know or care what’s in there, they just need it gone.  That’s where you come in.  With a free afternoon and a quality dust mask, you may find some real treasures. A must-see for collectors of vintage porno mags. But please don’t forget to sign up for several weeks of counseling afterwards, cause you’re definitely gonna need it.

The Playing-Hard-to-Get Sale:  This is your chance to play Indiana Jones at a yard sale.  These folks didn’t bother to sort it, price it, or tag it.  They didn’t even take it out of the bins. They just opened the door and let you in. It’s anyone’s guess as to what is for sale and what is not, or what lurks in those dozens of unopened crates and boxes.  We recommend going in with a working knowledge of the region’s poisonous spiders.  

“Throw me the 50-cent Barbara Streisand Album and I throw you the whip.”

The Office Supply Thief Sale:  75% of Americans admit to stealing from work. But most people limit their office larceny to a roll of toilet paper or a fistful of those really nice mechanical pencils.  But this guy, he’s taken it to felony proportions, and doesn’t care who knows it.  If you are unable to pocket enough post-its from your own employer, this might be the sale for you.The Frustrated Avon Lady Sale: You were expecting a crate of records or romance novels, but instead you found a table of half-used face cream or off-brand shampoo.  Like the Office Supply Thief, this sale pops up several times over the course of the Season; the bargain hunter is advised to take note of the address for future avoidance.

This sale was described as “Personal Overstock.”  Everything you need for a night on the town, including Cold Sore Gel and Condoms.

The “I’m Pretty Sure You’re Not Supposed to Sell this Stuff Out of a Garage” Sale:  Food is usually sold at grocery stores or restaurants. But don’t tell this guy.
Also, I know that the sale of Prom Dresses isn’t regulated by state or federal authorities, but I still don’t think you should have that many for sale on your front lawn:

Always a bridesmaid?

The “I’m Uncomfortable with the Number of Children you Seem to Have” Sale:  Also known as “I’m Uncomfortable with the Amount of Sh*t Your Children Seem to Have.” This is America, but does each of your kids need his/her own junior off-road vehicle?  Avoid taking your own offspring to this sale, as it may heighten their sense of entitlement.
The Grandpa Just Died Sale:  If you plan to get old, this would be a good chance to stock up.  It doesn’t seem like Basic Old People Equipment has changed that much in the last couple of decades.
The Crazy Christmas Lady Sale:   Is there anything that CAN’T be made Christmas-themed? Now is your opportunity to find out. And make “Christmas in July” jokes, starting of next week.
The Electronics Graveyard Sale: Call me a paranoid Luddite, but I don’t think the remote controls in your house should outnumber the actual humans.  But if you disagree, head to this sale, cause I’m suuuuure it all still works.
The Gold-At-The-End-of-the-Rainbow Sale:  These are the sales that make it all worthwhile.  For us, it’s the “Trust Fund Art Student Moving to New York and Leaving Behind Hundreds of Dollars in Barely-Used Supplies” sale.  Or the “Bold Young Interior Designer Moving to New York and Abandoning her Collection of Framed Marimekko Prints” sale.  Or the “Stylish Young Fashionista who Gained Weight and Must Part with her Barely-Worn Size 8 Anthropolgie Sundresses and Designer Horizontal Striped Shirts” sale.

I wasn’t kidding about that Marimekko print.

When it comes to Yard Sales, you may not find the Emerald City at the end of your Yellow Brick Road, but perhaps you will discover inspiration in an unexpected place:

Time to dust off those dreams of staging your very own production of “The Wizard of Oz!”

*All photos from sales in the Chicago area the weekend of June 21, 2013.

Small children are an absolute delight and are a great source of satisfaction.  But like most things that provide delight and satisfaction, they leave a serious mess behind.  They pick their noses, throw their food, eat your houseplants and drag their dirty feet across your hand-tufted Tibetan wool area rug.  Don’t be alarmed, but right now your child may be hosting multiple parasites in her hair and/or intestines.

My actual living room before I had kids.

Is this really what you want?

Perhaps you’re planning to have kids, and think that your own offspring will be special, different; that you’ll be able to maintain peak levels of cleanliness and style in your home.  Nope. Your kids aren’t special, and neither are mine.  They are a powerful destructive force, and for the few first years it’s best just to duck and cover.

But before you spring for that vasectomy, take heart:  Even with small children underfoot, there are many simple ways to maintain acceptable levels of style and cleanliness in your home.

DINING ROOM:
The most vulnerable room of all, due to the volume of food and liquids being sloshed, spilled, and splattered about.  After our little family destroyed three “natural” rugs,* I came to my senses and bought an “outdoor” rug (euphemistically named “poolside rug”).  It’s made from Polypropylene, which is a fancy word for woven plastic.
Six months and 183 spilled bowls of oatmeal later, we soaked the rug in the bathtub for a few hours, then scrubbed it down and hosed it off in the backyard. And aside from the puddle of white primer I spilled on it last month – it’s as good as new.

And nothing beats our cheap (and surprisingly sturdy) plastic white dining room chairs. We found these in the Office Furniture section at IKEA;  they couldn’t be easier to wipe down.

The slot provides drainage for spilled milk and ventilation for Baby Farts (it was definitely the baby that farted).

And for goodness sake, if you’ve got a deck, backyard or nearby park — eat outside as much as you can.  Cleanup involves only a hose and your friendly neighborhood vermin.

A Note About Ugly Baby Supplies:
Most kid stuff is ugly — garish colors and Disney Princesses.  Who says you have to give up your modern style just to feed your kids? Buy your baby’s dining supplies at the thrift store.  This modern four-piece yellow plate-and-cup set was only 75 cents at the Salvation Army (yeah, we already lost one of the cups); the gorgeous mid-century sippy cup only a quarter.

We affectionately call this “Don Draper’s Sippy Cup,” though it is not usually filled with whiskey.

LIVING ROOM:
As we wander from the Dining to Living areas, I must enforce one critical rule: Food does not leave the dining room.  This single rule will save you hours of cleaning and hundreds of dollars in exterminator bills.

For easy maintenance, take a tip from our Dining Room tour and invest in plastic furniture.  Especially if you enjoy Mid-Century Modern styles, there are many attractive options that can also be hosed off in the backyard, like this “reproduction” Eames chair (right).

My kids put the “knock-off” in Knock-Off Eames Rocker

Or this tasteful vinyl lounge chair that we dragged in from the alley and disinfected (pssst… Vinyl is another fancy word for Plastic).

Since some of your furniture actually needs to  be comfortable, I recommend choosing couches in Neutral Booger-Tones.

Fortunately, Scott and I were still pretty broke when we started having kids, so we didn’t have much for them to ruin.  We bought these Booger-Toned sleeper sofas off Craigslist, and because I was 8 months pregnant, I didn’t have to help carry them home.
Finally, keep nice things up high. Children can’t resist electronics, lights, or things that spin. Last year, Scott bought a sexy new turntable, and we made the mistake of placing it proudly on the living room credenza.  It lasted about two days. If you work in the living space, make a standing desk to keep your computer safely out of sticky toddler hands.

Even standing on an upturned bucket of legos, this mischievous toddler can’t reach the keyboard.

A SPECIAL NOTE ABOUT TOYS:
About two or three times a year, a small but potent group of Grandparents and Aunties unloads trunkfuls of brightly-colored plastic toys, some of which actually beep and blink.

Learn to Be A Crap Curator! Your kids really don’t need any of this stuff, and they definitely don’t need all of it.  The day after their birthdays or your relevant religious gift-giving holiday, quietly put aside the ugliest, most obnoxious toys – the ones that make the loudest noise or have the most pieces – and either re-gift, return or donate.

The most wonderful time of the year.

In fact, any time you’re feeling overwhelmed, simply wait until the kids are away or asleep, and put half the toys in the closet or a closed box on top of a high shelf.  Don’t worry, you’ll know which ones they’ll actually miss.  Six months later, you can switch them all back again (sometimes the space under the couch serves this purpose as well):
BEDROOM (ADULT CATEGORY):
In our house, the adult bedroom is — for the most part — a no-kid zone.  The door stays closed and is too warped for a child to open on her own. Aside from Scott’s drawing desk, there’s nothing particularly dangerous for them to get into…  I just don’t want them in there. Though I will confess that when the weather is just too miserable to bear, I will let this happen for an hour or so:

A latex mattress will absorb all the impact so as not to disturb your downstairs neighbors

BATHROOM:
Installing childproof latches on your cabinets will pretty much take of things in this room.  A Special Note about Make-Up:  I don’t have much, as wearing it makes me feel like a drag queen.  But small children find it absolutely irresistible.

One day my mother-in-law, who was living with us at the time, put the two-year-old down for a nap in the same room as her make up bag. This is the result:

Probably what I would look like if I wore lipstick, too.

KITCHEN:
I give up…

*This post is in loving memory of the all the dining room rugs that lost their lives due to suffocation by spilled oatmeal.

When we joyfully announced that we were expecting our first baby, my mother declared, “It’s very brave of you to bring a child into the world at a time like this.”

Sounds dark, but cut her a break — it was September 2008 and the world was falling apart.  The bankers forgot where they put everybody’s money, and the housing bubble — in which we floated blissfully for a few years — was popping like a million miles of bubble wrap.
We knew we had to eventually sell our charming one-bedroom condo. But in the time it took to unload the place, we had another baby and my mother-in-law moved in.  I didn’t care how much money we would lose, I needed to get out of there, and fast.

Finally, in January 2012, we traded our mortgage for a lease on a big, beautiful apartment a few blocks away.  It felt like a palace:  three bedrooms, TWO living rooms, and a backyard with a playhouse.  But I didn’t exactly feel like a queen. The apartment was fine; but in terms of style, it just wasn’t … OURS.

The conventional thinking about renting is, “just let it be.”  Put your power tools in cold storage and live with the ugliness it until you can buy your own place.  But as we’ve learned this year, there are many cheap and easy ways to add style and function to your temporary home.

After you run out of diamonds, paint is a great way to tell your spouse how you feel.

PAINT – nothing makes a bigger difference. How do you feel on an overcast day? What if, with a $30 gallon of paint and an afternoon of work, you could turn every day into a sunny one?  The irony with that analogy is that every room in our apartment was painted in blinding shades of yellow, orange and peach (I actually got a migraine within a week of living there), most of which we replaced with soothing shades of cool grey.  And yes, that is the correct use of the word irony.

DRILL —  This may be the first time that I’ve agreed with Sarah Palin, but please don’t be afraid to DRILL.  Hang pictures where you like.  When you move out, all it takes is a pinch of spackle and a dab of paint to repair.  A cluster of old family photos provide nostalgia, and a good reminder that things were so much harder in the old days, so quit complaining.
A large piece of art over an expanse of blank wall will really show what good taste you have, even if most of the paintings were done by your Grandpa.  Or picked up at a yard sale, like this fabulous Marimekko print. …

A soothing nature scene distracts from the infestation of brightly-colored plastic toys below.

And fine art isn’t the only thing you should hang.  In a family of five, the number of coats, sweaters, scarves, bags and umbrellas is simply staggering.  The only defense is to hang hooks. Everywhere — up high and down low…

Without the magic of hooks, these jackets would surely be scattered on the floor.

But when it comes to renting, the two rooms that provoke the most suffering are the BATHROOM and KITCHEN. This is where we conduct the real business of life, and where a few minor adjustments can make a huge difference in your ability to stay well-fed and well-groomed in style.

BATHROOM: Our rental bath came with sliding glass doors, on (of course) a gold frame.  Even if I could overlook the aesthetic flaws, a few nightmarish attempts at bathing a 2-year-old and 8-month-old convinced me that the doors had to go.
Happily, the doors popped right off the frame. We unscrewed the top rail and replaced it with a suspension rod and simple cattail shower curtain from IKEA*. The bottom and sides of the gold frame are screwed into the wall, and remain as a reminder of our status as non-property owners.

While taking this pic, I inadvertently captured my son taking his first poo on the potty (bottom left).

Is there anything grosser than rotten, mildewing caulk around your bathtub? No. I think it’s fun to peel the caulk off; once you get a hold of it, it comes off in one long, satisfying strip.  Grab a $5 tube of fresh caulk at your local hardware store (or spring for the full kit with remover tools) , and in about 20 minutes your bathtub will look brand-new, sort of.  Don’t forget to replace the caulk around the base of the toilet (double yuck) and around the top of the sink as well.

Next, we replaced all the grimy 1980s-era blond wood hardware – hooks, towel bars, and toilet paper holder—with (decidedly cheap) modern chrome versions for about $15 total.  An over sized IKEA* clock – set 5 minutes fast—brings it all together..
We also replaced the “antique” brass drawer pulls and handle on the sink cabinet with chrome.
Not surprisingly, our landlord-issue shower head dribbled more water out its backside than sprayed on our bodies. For about $12, we installed an adjustable, three-speed chrome beauty.  The toilet seat was functional, but a little gross, so we installed a $30 model with a built-in potty seat for little buns.

Please don’t let all those dollar signs scare you! Aside from the caulk, you can take all this stuff with you when you go. Just remember to keep your landlord-issue items in one place and switch it all back when you move.

KITCHEN: When I married Scott, I made him promise that we would never again own a microwave on a rolling cart.  We bought a new microwave for this apartment, but weren’t sure where to put it. The counter space was too valuable,  but look at this nice little nook above the stove!

We bought some strong but cheap brackets (shown above) and a shelf, and in a few turns of the drill we had a “built-in” microwave.
We have a nice long counter top, but with only one overhead light in the middle of the room, it can get pretty dark and gloomy down there.   For about $40, we scored some LED under-cabinet lights from IKEA*, which we can easily take with us when we go.

Just like in the bathroom, the kitchen cabinets were endowed with brassy faux antique hardware.  For less than $2 a pop, we switched them out with these modern chrome beauties.

After and Before.

Other drillables, like this $5 nickel-finish paper towel holder, preserve valuable counter top real estate.
Use any remaining wall space to show off your thrift-store finds. This promotional margarine poster from the 1950s adds a touch of class to any kitchen, and the color is reminiscent of the landlord’s previous paint job.

Back in the ’50s, you didn’t need a face to eat a margarine sandwich

BEDROOMS: The only two things you can really change about your bedrooms (besides paint color) are the lights and windows, all of which were bare when we moved in.

Unless you like your kids waking up at 5:00 a.m. with the sun, blackout roller shades are a must in their bedrooms.  Yes, they’re ugly, but can be easily masked by curtains, like these ones I made from some super-cute IKEA* fabric.
For the adult bedroom, some sheer IKEA* curtains provide privacy and a nice distraction from the brick wall and bright pink (!) radiator.
We also had a little fun covering the depressingly bare overhead light fixtures in every bedroom, like this one with a simple grey shade that doesn’t actually fit (but nobody can get close enough to notice).
Now, are you ready to see the World’s Ugliest Ceiling Fan?

Warning:  This photo may be upsetting to our more sensitive readers

Don’t you love the timeless combination of faux laminate oak blades inlaid with woven rattan, the ornate and mismatched patterns of the distressed-brass motor housing, and the whimsical splashes of white ceiling paint?  Me, too. We thought the best way to honor the post-modern mishmash was to cover the bare bulb with a square, Asian-inspired paper pendant shade ($4 from IKEA*).  This is what I see when I lay down to bed at night, and I couldn’t be happier.

*I was not compensated for mentioning IKEA 6 times, but perhaps I should be.

Spring is a fickle lover here in Chicago.  Suddenly, she comes bursting into your dry, pale arms – sometimes as early as February.  Giddy with excitement, you excavate your sandals and what’s left of last year’s tube of sunscreen.  But then…

Spring runs out to get cigarettes.  She doesn’t show up again for weeks.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Spring says.  Mumbles something about a cold front, a low pressure system, blizzards in North Dakota.

These unsuspecting coats have no idea what’s about to happen to them.

You know it’s bullshit, but you take her back.  Again.  The desire for picnics and short shorts is just too strong.

Now it’s late May.  The leaves are green, the asparagus and rhubarb are chilling in the fridge.  Spring, I think you’ve finally decided to commit.  Let’s make it official by gathering up the hats, gloves and coats for their summer hibernation.

As I pack up the winter gear, I think ahead to that bittersweet moment when I’ll pull them all out again in six months.   As the darkness of winter closes in, I’ll reach my hands into the pockets of my winter coat and find…

A five dollar bill? A stick of still-chewable gum? A dirty Kleenex? A ticket stub from a mid-winter date night? An address for a Craigslist transaction?

The actual contents of my winter coat pockets: Used handkerchief, button, rubber band, “Aldi quarter,” dollar bill, and for some reason, an empty plastic sandwich bag.

Why leave it to chance?

Just like the weather, there’s so much in life that we can’t control. But this year, I will guarantee that my family and I have a pleasant surprise waiting in our coat pockets come November.  Something sweet or nostalgic, something to remind us of this moment in time.  Maybe a little treat.

Actual contents of a 4-year-old-girl’s winter coat pockets:  Crayon, rocks, cupcake sticker and sliver of chalk.  Not shown: Fistfuls of sand and dirt.

WINTER COAT POCKET TIME CAPSULE

STEP ONE:
Gather your winter coats. Remove and examine the undoubtedly boring contents of your pockets. Now would be a good time to wash your coats, especially if you are disgusting like my children.

STEP TWO:
Select the contents of your Winter Coat Pocket Time Capsule. Be creative in curating your items, but follow these simple guidelines. The items should:
1)   Comfortably fit in your pocket.
2)   Be non-perishable and able to survive without melting, rotting or suffocating for about six months, depending on your climate.
3)   Not be something that you will actually need for a while. I don’t recommend using Social Security cards, bank statements or accident reports.  You never know.

For the 4-year-old girl: beads from the dentist, page from a Lego catalog that she’s been sleeping with for weeks, rocks, magic beans, helicopters, and Corn Syrup snacks I found in the pantry.

For the kids, I chose a mix of treats, toys and for the 4-year-old, things that she’s been collecting from the park and back yard this spring.  The 2-year-old won’t remember any of this anyway, so I just found some stuff under the couch for him.

For the 2-year-old: Toy car, doll, Thomas stickers from the doctor, cardboard turtle with birthday hat, and Corn Syrup snacks.

Scott and I agreed to make each others’ Time Capsules as a surprise.  Since he occasionally reads this blog, I can’t tell you exactly what’s in there.  But here’s a sneak preview:

Time capsule for a 37-year-old man who is very well-loved.

STEP THREE:
Carefully insert the Time Capsule into the coat pockets. If you have multiple winter coats, choose the coat that you will likely wear FIRST, as to not prolong the excitement any more than necessary. You want all family members to find their Time Capsules at approximately the same time.

Where do you even get little baggies like this?

STEP FOUR:
Hide the coats deep into the closet. And please, cut those toenails. Nobody wants to see that.

Having just recovered from a nasty case of strep throat, I was reflecting on how – aside from my annual Streptococcus infection and a few minor injuries – my health is pretty darn good.

And then I got hiccups.

For two days.

Suddenly, visions of my future with intractable hiccups flooded my imagination:  (Hic.)

Maybe I’ll have hiccups for another day, or maybe for the next 40 years. Hic. That’s a thing, right? Hic.  I could learn to live with it.  Hic. I work from home, on my computer mostly. Hic. So, I only have to make actual human contact about once every 3 months. Hic.  As long as I never have to go on another job interview. Hic. Or make any new friends. Hic. Or be pulled over for drunk driving. Hic.  Oh, dear God somebody make this stop.

If you drink this in a normal way, you’re doing it wrong.

After 12 hours, I was desperate for relief, and found one legitimate medical journal article on the topic. Sadly, it concluded that:

Treatment strategies for intractable hiccups remain empirical; no “evidence-based” approaches or valid recommendations can be derived…Removal of offending agents and correction of conditions or imbalances that may facilitate hiccups should constitute initial therapeutic efforts. (Walsh: Palliative Medicine , 1st ed.)

Translation? Dear Hiccup Sufferer: Screw You. Sincerely, The Medical Establishment.

And don’t think you can avoid these beastly spasms. In fact, the three primary triggers of hiccups are my three favorite things:
1) A large meal
2) Alcoholic beverages
3) Sudden excitement

Hiccups are an actual medical condition called synchronous diaphragmatic flutter. However, unlike other legitimate medical conditions, hiccups don’t inspire support groups, or charity walks or – most importantly – cutting-edge research towards finding a cure.

Why are hiccups stuck in medical limbo? While just about everyone suffers through them, hiccups have never killed anybody. There’s no measurable impact on the economy. They can’t be blamed for missed days of school or reduced productivity at work.

But the good news is that when there’s no legitimate source of scientific evidence, Folk Remedies fill in the gap!

Please, pay no attention to this legitimate medical information!

After a full day of suffering, I decided to crowd-source my Hiccup Folk Remedy.  Turning to Facebook, Twitter, and a good old-fashioned Friday Night Cocktail Party, I discovered dozens of potential cures, all of which seemed way more fun than anything my doctor has ever prescribed.

In medical terminology, when one reviews the studies of others, it is called meta-analysis. On the internet, it’s called crowd sourcing.

As a public service, I’ve decided to save the CDC some time and publish my own crowd-sourced meta-analysis of cures for synchronous diaphragmatic flutter.

I know that you didn’t actually read this article and just skipped to the infographic.

Treatments generally fall into four main categories, which happen to mimic the main functions of life: Drinking, Eating, Breathing and Assorted Physical Stimulation.

1. Drink a glass of water from the wrong side of the cup
2. Drink a glass of water from between your legs
3. Drink a glass of water while bending over backwards
4. Drink a glass of water through a washcloth
5. Drink a glass of water while sticking your fingers in your ears
6. Eat a spoonful of sugar
7. Hold a spoonful of sugar under your tongue
8. Eat a large spoonful of peanut butter
9. Eat a Slim Jim with a Dr. Pepper
10. Eat a dill pickle while lying in bed
11. Swallow whole antacid tabs
12. Poke your tonsils with a cotton swab
13. Pull your tongue out of your mouth with your fingers
14. Put your fingers in your ears
15. Hold your breath
16. Take big, deep breaths
17. Take quick, shallow breaths
18. Blow on your thumb
19. Breathe deeply while lying face-down on the floor
20. Hold your breath while lying face-down on the floor
21. Have someone scare you
22. Have someone punch you in the gut
23. Have someone point a gun at your head (Americans only)
24. Scream as loud as you can
25. Don’t think about your hiccups
26. Think really hard about your hiccups
27. Tickle yourself or order someone else to tickle you
28. Stimulate your clitoris (sorry, guys)
29. Use a spoon to touch your uvula, or your vulva, or both if you can’t remember which is which
30. Rectal massage
31. Press on your eyeballs
32. Pull your hair
33. Immerse your face in ice water
34. Stand on your head
35. Smoke a joint

So, can you guess which one worked for me?

Hic.

One of the first lessons you learn as a new mother is that – as long as your mother or mother-in-law is still alive – Mother’s Day is not about you.   And with life expectancies for U.S. women reaching 80+ years… well, just sit tight, honey. Your day will come. Eventually.

So, in the spirit of Mother’s Day being Not About Me, I decided to make lots of extra work for myself this week.  Every year my daughter’s school holds a Mother’s Day Bazaar.  Folks can donate handmade crafts and tchotchkes for the kids to buy with their adorable Ziploc baggies full of coins that they swiped out of mom’s purse.

I happen to have a bulk bag of D-rings gathering dust in my sewing drawer, and thought this would be a good opportunity to make something new out of Old Crap – D-Ring belts!The beauty of selling D-ring belts at the Mother’s Day Bazaar is that almost everyone with a torso wears a belt from time to time. Because they’re one-size-fits-all, there’s no need for awkward questions about Mommy’s Waist Size (though I did make the belts a smidgen on the large side, to avoid even more awkward gift-giving moments).

To ensure purity, buy your D-rings from a trusted friend, never off the street.

Here’s how to make D-ring belts out of three kinds of Old Crap:
Neckties, Curtains and Scraps from your upholstered headboard.

BELT #1: NECKTIE BELTS

There are two ways to source this project:
A) raid your own or the man-in-your-life’s tie collection, or
B) take a well-deserved trip to your favorite thrift store. I recommend the latter.

Chicago’s Best Thrift Store is Unique Thrift, on Halsted in Bridgeport.

STEP 1) CHOOSE YOUR STYLE. I’m partial to stripes in cool colors. I wanted the belt to shine, but not steal the show.
STEP 2) PREP YOUR TIE. Carefully remove the staples from your ties; use a pliers or tweezers to avoid unsightly staple holes.
Iron your ties on low heat. Not only will this smooth out wrinkles, but it will also help burn off any lingering Old Man Smell.  But don’t fret– Neck Ties are usually worn over a shirt, so their cootie levels are minimal.  And since most people wear their belts OVER their pants, there really is almost no risk of direct cootie transmission.

Take extra precautions if your tie was donated by a male stripper.

STEP 3) CUT YOUR TIE:  Most of your tie will be about the same width, but especially with specimens from the disco era, you might run into some flare. Cut your tie open with a seam ripper to expose its innards.

Haven’t you always wondered what was in there?

Slice off any especially wide ends. Locate the point where the flare begins and trim the shell and the innards down to match width of the rest of the tie. Carefully fold back and sew a diagonal seam to the end.

STEP 4): THE HARDWARE: Slip the D-rings over the unfinished (butchered) end. Fold the end over twice and sew two seams over the folds, holding the D-rings in place.

REALITY CHECK:  I love the shine of the silk (or polyester), the bright colors and dashing patterns of these ties. My goal was to make at least ten tie belts for the Bazaar, but after six tries, I decided I would rather eat wasabi-covered dog doo than cut open, dismember and reassemble another one of those @#$* things.

There were casualties.

Even though I had a few ties left to sew, I had to move on.  The next night I pouted to my husband about how I’ve grown to hate circumcising ties, and declared that there must be a better source of belt-making fabric.  In a nod to The Sound of Music, he asked what Fraulein Maria would do. BELT #2: OLD CURTAIN BELTS

After dinner, I dashed to the fabric bin and dug out these animal-print (cheetah? Las Vegas snow leopard?) curtains I had made back in the day–way back. We’re talking at least three apartments and one boyfriend ago. They were long, fabulous and forgotten. And best of all, I could cut them to my exact specifications.
STEP 1) Measure and cut the fabric– a little more than twice as wide as your D-rings.

STEP 2) Fold over so the fabric is inside out. Pin the raw edges together and sew a seam along the entire length of the fabric. (ACTUALLY, DON’T DO THIS. SEE STEP 3)

Seemed like a good idea at the time.

STEP 3) Smack your forehead when you realize what a pain in the ass it’s gonna be to pull the whole thing rightside-in again.  Tearfully hand it to you husband, along with a long wooden spoon and tell him to figure it out. He doesn’t seem to be doing anything useful right now, anyway.

STEP 4) Slip the D-rings over one end, and fold the end over twice; sew a couple of seams along the folded ends. Fold over and sew the other end as well to finish it off.

STEP 5) Fire up the iron so you can smooth this belt out flat.  Watch in horror as the material starts melting with the first touch of the iron.  Pretend like nothing happened and casually pull out your fabric bin again.

BELT #3: SCRAP UPHOLSTERY FABRIC BELT

Please, please accept my apologies if you are the poor woman whose child buys her that last belt at the Bazaar.  Just let me know and I’ll buy you a drink, cause that’s what you really want for Mother’s Day anyway.

After rummaging around in my fabric scrap bin for material that was long and NOT A) fleece, B) faux fur, nor C) flammable, I pulled out this beauty, leftover from my DIY Tufted Headboard Project.  The fabric was thick, modern, bright and snazzy.
PERFECT! By now you’re getting the general hang of this belt-making procedure, so most of this will be review. However, we are NOT going to drive ourselves crazy by sewing 5+ feet of fabric inside-out, and then threatening to divorce our husband if he can’t fix our mistakes, which are somehow his fault anyway.

STEP 1). Measure your fabric lengthwise, and cut it to be about 2.5 times wider than the width of your finished belt. Use the width of your D-rings as a guide.

STEP 2) Starch your fabric. Fold ¼ inch hems on both long sides of the fabric and iron flat.  Then fold a ¼ inch over on both short sides (the ends) of the fabric over and iron flat as well.
Fold fabric in half (with hems folded flat) and iron the whole belt again.  I would recommend folding the side that will hold the D-rings so that it’s slightly narrower than the rest of the finished fabric.

STEP 3) With all hems folded in, sew a seam along the entire length of the fabric. Make sure the end of your belt doesn’t slowly creep into your spiked SleepyTime tea.
STEP 4) Slip the D-rings over the narrow end. Fold the fabric over. Stitch it shut.

STEP 5) Make as many of these as the fabric allows. Just in time for spring — A ray of sunshine around your waist!

This week I helped a friend sell her armoire on Craigslist.  I’ve bought and sold a lot of furniture on the site, and was bursting with tips, tricks and fancy adjectives.  But I soon realized it would be unfair to burden one person with all that unsolicited advice.

I do love Craigslist; it’s where I got most of the furniture in my apartment.  I love the thrill of the hunt and the chance to practice my negotiation skills.  I love meeting new people in different neighborhoods, and conducting fairly large transactions in cash, usually at night.

But beneath all those great deals lurks a hidden dark side: the use of misleading adjectives to describe terrible furniture.

This living room set was advertised as “Frank Lloyd Wright Style”

As a public service, Projectophile is alerting its readers to the unregulated use of Misleading Craigslist Furniture Adjectives. For your safety, I’ve provided a list of the 25 most dangerous terms, with their real meanings finally revealed.

All of these photos were taken from the Craigslist Chicago Furniture-by-owner listings on April 23, 2013, and are probably still available for purchase.

Adorable:  No person over the age of 19 should have this in their house.

Amish:  I still haven’t figured this one out.  It just looks like regular furniture to me. Was it made without power tools? Smells like Rumspringa?

Listed on Craigslist as an “Amish” conference table.

Antique:  I found it in my grandma’s basement when she died. Smells musty and is the habitat of several species of spiders just waiting to have babies in your house.

“Antique” means this trunk hasn’t been opened in 90 years, because early 20th Century humans couldn’t lift it. Are you feeling lucky?

Art Deco:  Remember how everyone in the 1980s got nostalgic for the 1940s?  This term describes pretty much anything that is old and has rounded edges.

This Art Deco Dresser is perfect for storing Pepsi and power tools.

Bauhaus:  An influential early 20th Century movement of Modernist architecture and design.  On Craigslist, it describes an overstuffed velvet couch,  now sunken in one spot from thousands of hours of playing “Grand Theft Auto.”

Contemporary:   One of the more dangerous adjectives on CL, and includes two distinct categories of style –
1) Contemporary Noir: Black lacquer with brass or gold hardware, plenty of mirrors and smoked glass.

“Contemporary Noir” pieces are notoriously difficult to photograph.

2) Contemporary Miami: Would look best on the set of Golden Girls. Pastels, tropical prints, almost always faded and lumpy.

Pastels and glass — two key elements of “Contemporary Miami” style

Custom:  I took a welding class at the Discovery Center and then made this in my basement and my wife hates it.

Decorative:  I painted flowers and butterflies over what might otherwise be an acceptable piece of furniture.
European Modular:  IKEA

Executive:  Cheap office furniture that I bought at Office Depot in the early 2000s to launch a failed E-Bay business in my basement.

Executive Office Set, because you’ve earned it. But don’t let all that power go to your head.

Free:  Honestly, this could go either way.  Some people just don’t have the energy or language skills to write a 50-word ad.

A Free Couch.  A more ambitious Craigslist seller would describe this as either “Bauhaus” or “Contemporary.”

French Country:  I painted purple flowers on a piece of white Victorian reproduction furniture. Also see “Decorative.”

Fun:  You can’t actually sit on it; you can only look at it, or fall off of it.

What a FUN chair!

Funky:  See “Fun.”   This type of furniture is only available in Blue and Purple.
Gorgeous:  (Oops—how did this one get in here? This must be one of my ads. I call everything gorgeous, because for some reason people believe it.)

Hand-painted:  Some crafty lady thought it would be fun to paint a forest scene on her kid’s bedroom dresser, after she read about it on a blog and saved it to Pintrest. See “Decorative.”

Italian:  Brown leather, overstuffed, and heavy as lead.  Would look great on the set of Sopranos.

This “Italian” chair also poses a tipping hazard. Invite your enemies to have a drink and relax in it.

Micro suede or Microfiber:  Guaranteed to be covered with insane amounts of dog hair.

Mid-Century Modern:  This will cost at least $200 more than it is actually worth.

Modern:  See “Contemporary”

Oriental (or Asian-Inspired):  Any table or cabinet that’s been painted red; usually includes brass hardware with visible hinges.
Oversized:  Stop right there — This monstrosity will fit neither your décor, nor through your door.

A “California King Waterbed.”  I’ve never met the King of California, but I hope he has plenty of strong servants and large doorways in his palace.

Pier One:  It’s amazing what they can make out of wicker these days.

Papasan Family Portrait

Scandinavian Design:  IKEA

Shabby Chic:  A wobbly piece of old furniture that somebody painted white, or maybe light blue, and did a terrible job.  The paint is probably peeling, which — in the twisted logic of Shabby Chic—is a selling point.  May also be advertised as “distressed” or “super cute,” which are adjectives that I usually use to describe my toddler.

You can’t fool me with your bad paint job, Shabby Chic — I know an IKEA dresser when I see one.

Solid Wood:  This beast weighs at least 600 pounds.  Come equipped with a pickup truck and 12 friends to move this monster out of my 4th-floor walk-up apartment.  Hernia belts and steel-toed boots should be provided to all movers and bystanders alike.

Before purchasing this solid wood entertainment center, ask to see a photo taken after 2008.

Victorian:  If this is actually from the Victorian era, it’s twice as old as your grandma and probably covered in lead dust, asbestos, termite poo and the tears of suffragettes.  If you’re safety conscious, consider a “reproduction” that is still covered in plastic.

This Victorian Living Room set comes with the original 1890s plastic slipcovers.

Vintage:  Could describe anything on Craigslist older than your cat.

My Grandpa, who is not Henry Darger

How to live with and love your inherited art.

Last week, my husband stumbled upon the work of iconic outsider artist Henry Darger.  Scott fretted that he had never seen any of the thousands of pages of fantastical watercolors that Darger painted in his single room apartment on the north side of Chicago.

“Forget Darger,” I told him.  Because our apartment (also on the north side of Chicago) is filled with the best works of MY favorite outsider artist.
His name is Grandpa.

My father’s father was born in the tiny farm town of Breese, Illinois, in 1907. He moved to the north side of St. Louis just after World War I.  Grandpa only finished a couple years of high school before finding employment at the Pullman Railroad Company, where he worked until his retirement in 1973.

An example of Grandpa’s early work (1928).  Experts are unsure why an ink drawing on a handkerchief managed to last 85 years.

He married my Italian Grandma, Louise Stefanoni, in 1929, and settled down in a one-bedroom brick bungalow.  They had their only child in 1938.

We also shared a love of using outdoor furniture indoors.

Grandpa never went to art school, or really much school at all.  But he loved art, and that was all that mattered. He began drawing comics and illustrations in the 1920s, and even had a couple of them published.  Grandpa took up painting in the 1960s. He never settled on a distinctive style, or even a favorite medium.  He tried watercolors, pastels, colored pencils, and acrylics, embellished with textures of painted burlap, wood shims, and papier mache.

I was born on Grandpa’s 69th birthday.  We have much in common: We both love parties and cardigan sweaters and eating at Long John Silvers (I used to trade him my coleslaw for his crunchies).  We both got married right before the Major Economic Disasters of our respective generations.

Celebrating our 1st and 70th birthdays. If you don’t already have a Grandpa with the same birthday, I highly recommend you get one.

Grandpa taught me to love art.  I spent many summer afternoons on his back porch “studio” watching him paint, like my own private Bob Ross.

I would enter every coloring contest (usually something about the Easter Bunny or Railroad Safety), and bring the blank pages to Grandpa.  He would pull out a worn set of colored pencils and proceed with a lesson on blending, scumbling and burnishing, or how use shading to illustrate the source of light in the composition. Despite the mini-art lessons – or likely because of them – I never won a single coloring contest.  I’m not sure the judges believed that an actual 7-year-old had such a masterful cross-hatching technique.

Grandpa died in 1996 while I was away at college.  I inherited his sweaters, his art and sewing supplies (including an impressive button collection), and best of all – I had my pick of his best paintings:

Untitled acrylic and mixed media. I call it “Abstract Highway”

Untitled mixed media.  This painting was a gift to my maternal grandmother, who died in 2002. I call it “Big Splash.” I also painted the original dark wood frame a bright white.

Grandpa’s Masterpiece. “Resurrection” (1968). He single-handedly launched a new genre that I’ll call “Catholic Psychedelia.” It’s hard to express how much I love this.

I’m proud that my apartment houses the most exclusive collection of Grandpa’s art east of the Mississippi.  Even though he was clearly gifted, his inconsistent style and use of dark, heavy frames didn’t quite match the light, modern look I aspire for in my home.  No worries; I’m a firm believer that there’s no decorating problem that can’t be solved with a little bit of white paint.

Untitled Still Life hanging in my dining room, bumming out everything around it with this dark, heavy frame.

HOW TO LIGHTEN AND BRIGHTEN YOUR INHERITED ART:

Don’t get too excited, this project simply involves painting the frame and hanging it back up.

The simplest method would be to just pop the art right out of the frame, like I did with the DIY Bulletin board project. However, as you can see, Grandpa actually screwed the canvas right onto the frame, so we’ll just have to cover the art while we paint.
STEP 1):  Vacuum the dust and dirt off of the frame using the hose attachment.  I know it seems undignified to vacuum art, but I’m guessing plenty of you have used the vacuum hose to groom your pets or children.
STEP 2):  Since the canvas was only screwed to the frame in a few places, I was able to slide the paper underneath the frame, fully covering the art.  I taped the paper together so that it wouldn’t slide away, but didn’t have to tape it to the frame or to the canvas. Luckily, the credenza in my dining room (AKA “Studio”) was littered with duplicate tax forms and poster-sized coloring sheets that were the perfect size for this project. Sorry kids, sometimes one generation has to sacrifice for another.

STEP 3):  Crack open your oil-based primer and change your shirt, cause this stuff doesn’t wash out. I usually just take off whatever I’m wearing and turn it inside out.  If you’re wearing a hoodie, consider tying the drawstrings behind your neck to avoid dipping them in paint.  Grab one of the disposable brushes from the 20-pack I told you to buy in Post #7, and tug at the bristles to free any loose hairs.   Give the frame one coat of primer.

STEP 4):  When the primer dries (2+ hours), give the frame a coat of latex paint.  I quit after one coat, but if you are less lazy than me, go for seconds.

Whew! Much better.

STEP 5):  Hang the art back up and think about how awesome your Grandpa was. If your Grandpa is still alive, go visit him right away.  Unlike their art, Grandpas don’t last forever.

Birthdays are my favorite holiday.
Halloween? An excuse to turn every respectable profession into a naughty one. July 4th? Too loud, too hot and too many lost fingers. And Christmas? It’s a hungry bully of a holiday that just swallowed up poor Thanksgiving.

But birthdays are pure:  There’s no script, no costume, no watered-down religious backstory. There are no TV specials or long lines at the airport, no greeting cards or special colored-candy to buy.

Birthdays are simply a day to say, “I’m really glad you were born.  You deserve your share of the earth’s dwindling supply of oxygen and fresh water.”

Best of all, birthdays require only two things:  LOVE and CAKE.

I can’t help you with the love part, but I have a few ideas about cake.

My youngest just turned two, and per tradition, I wanted to create a cake that reflected his interests and values.  His favorite thing in the world? BABIES.  Baby books, baby dolls, baby humans – he can’t get enough.  But Scott and I agreed that it might be strange to bake a cake that looked like a baby, stick it with burning candles, and then eat it. So we decided that what he really liked was AIRPLANES.

Here’s the original design for Sam’s cake, complete with a charming variety of candy missiles:

Upon further reflection, we decided to streamline the design a bit–

EASY HOME MADE AIRPLANE CAKE:

1)    Make enough batter for two 9-inch cake rounds.  I almost always use this cupcake recipe and double it for cakes. These days you would call it vegan, but it actually originated during the Great Depression (the first one). Cool the cakes for about 15 minutes in the pans, then another half hour on a rack.
2)    Cut each round into thirds with a serrated knife, resulting in one center piece and two “crescent pieces,” as they will now be called.

3)    Stack the two center pieces together to create the “fuselage”

4)    Cut two of the remaining crescent pieces in half, and stack them together on either side of the middle section.

5)    Locate the “tail” section of the proto-plane. Cut about an inch off of the rear of the TOP LAYER only. Place that spare part on the end of the bottom piece.  You may now realize that I was making up this design as I went along.

At this point, you could easily convert this into a bat cake for the chiropteraphile in your life.

6)    Now take another remaining crescent-shaped piece and cut it in half. Place each half flat-side down on the end of your fuselage to create a vertical stabilizer.

Please note that because this cake lacks a horizontal stabilizer, it has not been approved by the FAA for commercial air travel.

7)    Now that you’ve got the main idea, get a big bowl of buttercream frosting (I doubled the recipe on the back of the bag of powdered sugar), and frost every surface where one piece of cake meets another.

I’ve already been contacted by Boeing to design their new 747 “Creamliner”

8)    At some point you might discover that you are left with an extra crescent piece of cake.  Unlike the end of an IKEA assembly project, you are encouraged to eat the mysterious leftovers. You deserve a treat, and your cake will still be structurally sound.
9)    OK, I lied.  It’s not structurally sound. Insert toothpicks between the fuselage and the vertical stabilizer. Remember their location before feeding them to small children or judgmental in-laws.

Note the scar on my left index finger, from a mixing accident at age 12. Three stitches later, I’ve got some baking street cred and a healthy fear of small motorized appliances.

10)    Separate about half of your remaining frosting into a bowl and give your cake its first coating.  This is called a “crumb coat” and it’s like primer for cakes. If your cake now looks like a snowball dropped in dirt, you’re doing it right.  Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.11)    When that layer of frosting has cooled, smear on your “topcoat” of remaining frosting. Refrigerate again.
12)    Using a bowl of warm water and your wet fingers, smooth out the chilled frosting so it’s slick and glistening. Perhaps you should do this out of sight of your party guests, ’cause it seems unhygienic to the typical American.

13)    Add additional details: This is where you can really have fun and make use of all the small, edible (or not) things around your kitchen. I cut up some candy melt discs to make windows, and rolled out some frozen blue modeling chocolate I had leftover from Sam’s 1st birthday cake for racing stripes.

I also pulled a couple of cotton balls off Estelle’s preschool Easter Bunny project and inserted them into the rear end of the cake for a cheerful cloud of exhaust. 14)  Light the candles, round up the party guests and sing “Happy Birthday” in the language of your choice. We prefer English and Polish.

“Mommy, I was told there would be BABY cake!” said the ungrateful child.