Balcom Agency

When my mother was pregnant with me, she started a quilt. Unsure if I was a boy or a girl, she chose fabrics in burgundy and cream – an interesting combination that was fresh and new in 1983. Being the over-achiever that my mother is, she chose the hardest pattern available, and then she decided she'd hand piece it. When people see the quilt, they tell her she's crazy for doing this.

Mom toted a million little pieces of fabric around in an oversized Estée Lauder box which (when not in use) consumed a whole drawer of the secretary in the entry way of the house I grew up in. She meticulously cut each piece then drew sew lines on the back of each one. After some time, I think that this daunting pattern got the best of her, so it sat untouched for awhile (and by awhile, I mean a few years). She decided at some point that she wanted to have it finished by my 18th birthday, so she harnessed all of her chi and put the pedal to the metal (or the needle to the fabric, as the case was).

And then the unthinkable happened... She ran out of fabric.

What do you do when you're finishing a quilt that you've been working on for 18 years, and you run out of fabric? You can't exactly go to the store and buy more... We went to Cabbage Rose thinking that we'd be able to find a complimentary fabric to help finish the job. The ladies at that shop are always so helpful! And then the unthinkable happened (again): one of the ladies in the shop had the same fabric we needed in her attic.

The quilt was a team effort – the labor and love from my mother, some random scraps of fabric in a stranger's attic, the time and skill of a woman at church who bound and quilted the entire thing – all to yield one incredible and beautiful quilt (which I forgot to photograph for you).

We have chests and cabinets and drawers of quilts between my grandmother's house, my mother's house and my house – years of heritage all folded up and tucked away, each unique in style and color (some good, some bad). But I enjoy these things. I love pulling these quilts up to my ears and thinking about the time that went into making them, the passion that the people who made them had and all of the other people who have snuggled underneath them before me.

But I feel even more special that I have one made for me. I didn't go to the store and buy it. I didn't special order it from the internet. My mom chose the fabric, cut it up, lined it, sewed it and then gave it to me – a tangible expression of love and dedication that I'll always keep.

Oh wait – no, it's not. It's just me.

I'm cold most all of the time. I have a space heater under my desk and use it at least once a day, even though it's 102 outside. I put a heated mattress pad on my bed in the winter.

I don't even mind if you want to insist that it's not cold. If I'm cold, I'm cold. I can't help it.

I really like movies about football, even though I don't care much about football at all.

I firmly believe that if somebody lets you over in traffic, you ought to wave to say, "Thanks!"

We've all learned by now that money, unfortunately, does not grow on trees. It has to be earned, saved and carefully used so that after you've taken care of all of your obligations, you can run and play.

However, sometimes, unforeseen events alter plans. Your air conditioner goes out. You replace your hot water heater. The list of possible things that might be labeled "catastrophic" in relation to your home where your budget is concerned is seemingly limitless. So sometimes, you just push projects off until "later," hoping that eventually "later" will, in fact, come around.

We've been busy B's, and I have neglected you, dear readers. Even in our busiest times, I have promised myself that I will always bring you Fact Friday. Let's get to it - shall we?

I'm ok with receiving forwarded business e-mails. However, the majority of personal forwarded e-mails have fluffy kittens or blinking stars on them. I think I have said, "I hate forwarded mail!" enough that people just don't send it to me anymore because they know it'll go straight to the trash.

Once in a blue moon, some good/funny messages come through - usually from poof. done. effortless.

Note to readers:
For those of you who are keeping up with the cabinet renovations, I'm happy to say that as of last night, all of the hardware is on, and the doors are ready to be hung which *fingers crossed* will happen this evening. The difference really is night and day.

When I left my last job, one of my favorite ladies gave me a business card holder as a going away gift. Inside, she taped a sweet note which I have left in the case. Every time it's empty, I read it and smile.

Two weeks ago, I took off cabinet doors and hinges. They were sanded, caulked, primed, prepped, laid out, painted, dabbed, touched up and finally set out to dry. My garage looks like a cabinet door depot, each door leaned perfectly against the wall, touching only at the corner, angled out just so to prevent touching. This is where my precious doors have been for exactly one week.

Shocking discovery: those doors are nowhere near dry.

I have determined that latex paint really struggles to dry in a hot garage. I mean – sure, eventually, I'm sure it'll dry, but not any time soon. I thought that the phrase was, "If you can't handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen!" Ironically, it seems that in order to avoid the head, my cabinet doors should be in the kitchen!

This means that my plan of action for the weekend is to finish lining all of my cabinets with shelf paper, take everything that was once in the cabinets but is now in the office and sort through it to determine what stays and what goes, then re-load the cabinets, leaving the office empty, so that I can line the office with doors.

I am convinced that this project is much like that song, "It's a Small World." It just gets more annoying as time goes on...

Here at The B, we have very large B-shaped desks. They come in a variety of colors and are actually pretty cool 'cause you can raise them and lower them to whatever is most comfortable for you.

My Narrow Cube + Big Desk = Design Challenges

I like to face the door, you see. I'm not a fan of people walking up behind me and startling me. My headphones fit snuggly into my ears, and while I don't listen to music very loud at all, the design of the headphones keeps out extraneous noise.

Awesome Headphones + Facing Away from the Door = Startled Emily

I managed to find a small black table in the back room and have adopted it as my desk. Sure, it's not as big as the others, but I don't have a lot of stuff, so it works out ok. However, said desk is kind of low. I like raising my chair so that I don't feel as though I'm sitting on the ground, but when I do that at this desk, my knees would hit the edge and send the whole thing shaking.

Enter Jolly Rancher.

Unbeknownst to me, he's a pretty handy guy! One afternoon we were talking, and he offered to make some cedar blocks for me so that my desk would be higher.

Friends, these blocks are awesome. They have put my desk at a comfortable height and eliminated me inadvertently running into my desk with my knee bones.

So what have we learned? Not only are B's creative in the advertising and marketing realm, but we're pretty crafty, too!

Note to readers:
For those of you who are keeping up with the cabinet renovations, I'm happy to say that the painting is finished! It'll still be a few days before I can put the hardware on and hang the doors, but for the most part? It looks awesome!

I sleep with three remotes in my bed. Every night.
And I still claim to be organized. Ha!