been snuggling with the netflix app for days. (at my couch. not the pergola.)
for every frame that made it to the gallery wall this week, i rewarded myself with a hit of arrested development.
ok two hits.
portia de rossi, maybe bluth, mother of maeby, gay woman playing straight wife to gay man, awe-inducing comedian of jealousy-inducing haircut and dubious nose job… what was i saying?
she lives on a phat horse ranch with spouse ellen.
the leather. the RUG.
pause for a moment; note the rich caramel body and curvy weathered arms of the chairs. that faded green antique rug adds a diffusion of color and pattern, just slips itself into a critical role in the composition without announcement. how can i be falling so hard for a piece that missed my notice entirely at first viewing?
consider that the last bit of decor tchotch to seduce me was a vase that looks more striking than it would feel if someone were to smash you over the head with it.
ellen. i thought i couldn’t like you any more than i already do.
ellen did all the decor for eight buildings on the property.
the wood. the ART.
a horse lives in that one. a HORSE.
didn’t believe me, did you? her name is maeby.
i want to moonwalk to work in my shiny converse sneakers.
anyone else have trouble recognizing portia this week? a blonde with long wiglike hair does not lindsay bluth make.
still, we’ll give her credit for falling in love with a bona fide design geek.