To Nest...


THE chair 

Nesting. I'm at that stage.

Typically, this phase involves wanting to clean the house from top to bottom- including all of those places that are pointless to clean like inside of drawers, closet shoe shelves, and washing walls (I actually have a friend who really washed her walls before her sweet one arrived) - but Joe knows that I'm never going to do those things. Pointless cleaning? Right. I rarely do the cleaning that actually makes sense, let alone the stupid cleaning. Joe does that stuff. Be jealous, girls.... Be very jealous.  

My version of nesting involves daydreaming about coral-colored upholstered gliders, cowhide rugs, vintage dining buffets refinished into changing tables, and white spray-painted antlers for the nursery. Don't worry, it all makes sense in my head and it's going to be very much Marlo. Wait a sec... Did I just use her name as an adjective? Why, yes. Yes, I sure did.

She's going to be a conundrum (apple. tree.) and I've already determined that her style is rustic-meets-modern-meets-vintage-meets-taxadermy-meets-nautical which comes together as just plain cool.

Simple enough.

So, tomorrow night while Joe takes his nephews to a monster truck jam show- I truly hate that my pregnancy is going to prohibit me from experiencing that giant ball of fun- I will be scouring the local vintage and antique stores for nursery goods. I am hoping to find a chair screaming to be recovered so we don't have to spend an absurd amount of money on the above chair.

Joe is sooo not having any of that chair. But it's just so... Marlo.



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