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What I’ve Been Doing

August 4, 2013 at 7:55 am by Claudia

sundesk

Sitting at this desk an awful lot – when I’m not at rehearsal.

sunredsox

Watching my Red Sox. This is the perk of being in Hartford; I can watch every Red Sox game. (They won this one.)

sunbook

Reading my third Louise Penny mystery. This woman can really write. I’m a big fan.

sunpurpleflowers

Watering my plant with the purple flowers. It’s nice to have something green and thriving in this apartment.

sunbaseballcaps

Looking at the acronym for the Williamstown Theatre Festival and thinking how it represents something I say quite often. (Yes, I can use some salty language with the best of ’em.)

sunsunset

Catching the sunset through my apartment window.

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Wandering around the apartment, taking pictures. Notice my haircut? Much shorter.

It’s Sunday and I have another full day of rehearsal ahead. (By the way, for those of you who asked, we rehearse 6 out of 7 days a week. Monday is our day off.)  I had been thinking I might go home for a day or two, so when the director said we were to rehearse until 7 pm today, my heart sank.  I wouldn’t get home until 9 or 10 and I’d have to return either Monday night or early Tuesday morning. That particular turnaround would be too tight.

So I’m a wee bit disappointed. For some reason, I’m having a hard time being here. Maybe it’s because I was just here for a 5 week stretch. Certainly, the fact that Don and I have been apart for over 7 months in the last year plays a big part, along with the fact that he was home for only one day before I had to leave for Hartford.

I’m restless. I haven’t worked one-on-one with the actors yet, so I feel curiously detached. All of the table work on the text, something I normally love, isn’t doing it for me. I know that will change as we move away from the table and I establish a relationship with the actors. I just have to be patient and know I will soon become immersed in this process.

I’m grateful for the work, that goes without saying. Don’s grateful for the work that comes his way. We get it. It’s good to have a job and we utter thanks every day. But seven out of twelve months spent apart is kicking my butt to the curb.

Since I’m woefully behind in reading blogs and commenting, I’m trying to use the little free time I have to visit you all. I apologize for my lack of comments and I’m going to remedy that.

Don gave Scout a bath. I wish I could nuzzle my nose in her silky hair.

And I’ve been eating too many mini chocolate bars at rehearsal.

Must stop.

Happy Sunday.

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Filed Under: life, On The Road 42 Comments

On Being a Seasoned Decorator: Who Cares about Trends?

July 26, 2013 at 9:23 am by Claudia

galvanized

Orange and pink look pretty good together, don’t they?

I was thinking about the ubiquitous phrase ‘trends in decorating’ yesterday. I see it everywhere; certainly all over blogland. The design industry, whether it be for the home or fashion, is driven by ‘trends.’ Everything, including Twitter, seems to be driven by trends. (If I hear one more newscaster use the words, “Trending on Twitter” I’ll scream). I understand that. It’s all about marketing. Color of the year. The dreaded chevron. Mid-century modern. Burlap. Geometrical shapes. White. These are just a few of the many hot fads in design and design blogging. I know I’m missing several. Feel free to add more in your comments.

When I was younger, a whole lot younger, I followed the fads. That’s part of the pack mentality of being young and easily influenced by others, of wanting to belong. Nothing wrong with that. I’d venture to say it is expected. It’s the rare young person that can buck the crowd and follow his/her particular likes and not give a dang about what others think. They’re out there, however, those young people that march to the beat of a different drummer. I find that enormously comforting.

I’m a ‘seasoned’ adult now. I’m more comfortable in my skin. And I don’t give a dang about what is trendy. I can look at photos of white rooms and admire them, but I know in my heart that particular trend is not for me. I like color. I can admire the lines of a room full of mid-century modern furniture, but since I grew up in a house with that look, it’s not appealing to me. It’s simply been done.

Ever since I hit my twenties, I have been that someone who, when told that ‘everyone is doing it,’ makes a U-turn and goes the other way. I never did drugs. I didn’t care how many of my dorm friends were smoking marijuana – I didn’t like the smell. And when my friend in grad school tried to get me to try cocaine because ‘everyone loves it, trust me’ I left the room. All it took was hearing the words: everyone is doing it. Bye bye.

“If everyone jumped off the Empire State Building, would you?”  My mother asked me this frequently as I slogged my way through my teens. I bet most parents ask that question in some form. Congratulations, Mom. It took.

That’s my own particular sensibility. If you tell me that this or that is ‘in,’ chances are I will be making that U-turn. I’m a stubborn girl and telling me that something is in and I should partaking in it because it is in just makes me dig my heels further into the ground. We Hill girls are stubborn. Ask my dad. Or my husband.

One of the benefits of growing older is not caring anymore what others think. I no longer feel it necessary to follow the rules. Certainly my decorating style has evolved over the years as I have evolved. I decorate with the things I love, with as many colors as I want, with comfort and a dash of funkiness. I mix patterns. I have a lot of stuff. If I love something, it goes in the room. And if I truly love it, no matter what it is, it will work.

As I look at blogs and decorating books and magazines, my favorite rooms have always been those that are unique. That don’t follow the trends. That are a reflection of the person that lives, breathes, eats and daydreams in that room. That are funky and individual and full of surprises. That throw orange and pink together, thank you very much, and make it work. That look real. And, apologies to designers everywhere, that aren’t done by a designer. Because I can see that in a room from a mile away.

Being a seasoned decorator is a good thing. It’s freeing, don’t you think? We can do whatever we like. We’ve been through all the needing to belong stuff; we left that behind years ago. We don’t care about trends. We decorate for our needs, for our sensibilities. Isn’t that wonderful?

And by the way, the sensibilities of a seasoned decorator are not necessarily entirely defined by age. There’s a dash of ‘who cares?’ in there that I’ve seen in every age.

Thank goodness.

Happy Friday.

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Filed Under: decorating, life 63 Comments

Embarrassing Stories: The Skunk Streak

July 19, 2013 at 8:07 am by Claudia

beeonpurpleconeflower

A long time ago, in the galaxy that was my hometown, I was living back at home with my parents after college. I had just graduated, with a teaching degree and a major in Drama & Speech with a minor in English Language and Literature. Where was I working? Nowhere. I couldn’t find a job. I was in a play. That’s about it.

Bored, living at my parents’ house with very little cash on hand, I needed a change. As is often the case with me, ‘boredom’ equals ‘time for a change.’ Not a drastic change, because my nickname was Cautious Claudia, just a wee one. In those days I got my hair cut at a salon called, of all things, Foxy Lady. Oy.

Frosted hair was very in at the time. Do you remember those days? Women loved getting their hair frosted. I saw it everywhere and it got me to thinking. Maybe I should try it. Not for me the fully frosted look, but….what about some subtle highlights around the face? Some very subtle golden streaks? The word ‘subtle’ was playing over and over again in my brain.

Yes, subtle.

So, I made an appointment at the aforementioned Foxy Lady. I was going for it. The day of the appointment dawned. When I arrived, I spoke about what I wanted.

“Some very subtle frosting around my face. So subtle that it looks natural. Not too much, just a little. Do you understand what I’m talking about?”

“Absolutely! Of course!”

I sat back in the chair, convinced I was in good hands. Time passed. I read some magazines. Finally the moment arrived. Time for the unveiling. Completely sure that I would see the look I had dreamed of, I eagerly awaited the results.

I had a single 3 inch wide streak of platinum hair. Right above my forehead.

I looked like a skunk.

Horrified doesn’t begin to describe my feelings. All the ladies who worked there gathered round, oohing and aahing over my new look. They were thrilled! I was not.

In those days, my friends, I was not very assertive. I was shy. It was hard for me to speak up for myself.

So I never mentioned that I was stunned. I never asked them to ‘change it back!’ I simply paid, walked out to my car and sat there crying. When I walked in the door of my house, my mother gamely tried to mask her shock upon seeing the results. So did everyone else. They quickly assured me that I looked great, that it was daring and fun, that it would grow out anyway, not to worry.

I kept crying.

Eventually, since I was doing a play and had some latitude as to attire, I wore a bandana over my hair. Every single day. You know the look: bandana folded into a triangle and tied at the nape of the neck. Luckily, this was the in look at the time, so I was able to hide the dreaded skunk streak.

Months went by. Slowly the streak started growing out. It began to look a bit less startling. Brown hairs mixed with platinum and it did indeed become subtler. But I still hated it.

That Christmas, the boy I had a crush on all through junior high and high school, who went to my church and whose move to California at the beginning or our senior year in high school broke my young heart, came back for a visit. He came to church on Christmas Eve and came downstairs to the choir room to say hello. I hadn’t seen him in over five years. How did he see me after all this time?

With a skunk streak.

Ah well. By the way, that boy and I lost touch for many years – decades. He married and had twins. I married. He still lives in California. Eventually, we connected again via Facebook. That’s what I love Facebook for – reconnecting with old friends. I’m hoping that he doesn’t remember the skunk streak. But I sure do.

Did you have any hair horror stories?

Don’t forget my book review. Just scroll down one post to see it. The publisher has been very generous and I have up to 5 copies to giveaway. Leave a comment at the end of that post.

Happy Friday.

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Filed Under: life 64 Comments

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Welcome!

Welcome!

I live in a little cottage in the country with my husband. It's a sweet place, sheltered by old trees and surrounded by gardens. The inside is full of the things we love. I love to write, I love my camera, I love creating, I love gardening. My decorating style is eclectic; full of vintage and a bit of whimsy.

I've worked in the theater for more years than I can count. I'm currently a voice, speech, dialect and text coach freelancing on Broadway, off Broadway, and in regional theater.

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