New Year, New Karstad

So, it’s just two days into 2013, and we are going to IKEA. We moved down south at the same time we moved into our new Brooklyn space, a shared 2 bedroom apartment in “Clinton Hill” (which is actually smack dab in Bed-Stuy, whoopsie!), then, two weeks later our sweet roomie gave her 30 days notice. We promise we were very nice? In the woo-woo world of excellent karma and the right things happening for the right reasons, it has all worked out for Sweetheart’s sister and her husband to take over the larger-2nd-room-with-a-heretofore-unused-attached-office-room-that-will-be-perfect-as-a-nursery-for-their-pending-bebe. It truly couldn’t be better. We get to hang out all the time, they don’t have to put their infant to sleep in a bathtub, we’re in a whiskey loving family compound (now Nate is drinking for two) perfect for built-in-dinner-parties, and when that little peanut arrives we can hold it in our arms and sing it Tom Waits songs right off the bat. Shangri-la…we just don’t have a sofa. So, in the grand tradition of Liz Lemon and freelancers everywhere, Sweetheart and I are taking a day trip to Red Hook to survey Karstads and measure Endorps and try not to break up. 

 

More Liz Lemon here.

ShaBoom

 

Nipsey, we aren’t in Brooklyn anymore. The glorious whirlwind begins with this message of welcome from my dear cousin Doug. ShaBoom:

When leaving NY please have your Va passport stamped at the border as a boarder. Welcome back, I say (pftewy) welcome back hear m’dear to the Old Dominion, the Commonwealth, Northern Virginia (north of the James that is, below Richmond). You may carry your pistol now. ShaBoom

This House

 

I have something I’ve been meaning to tell you. But then Sandy came along, and the election, and, well, I had some other things I really wanted to say. So. The BIG NEWS. After much discussion, Sweetheart and I are moving into this house. An old farm house with creaky floors and painted ceilings, exposed beams and milk glass fixtures on a decent passel of land that slopes down to a windy, woodsy creek. Because we need space and air and the warmth of a wood fire and a big silence around us where it’s just us but also the joyous noise of a room just for music (!) and a kitchen full of family and a view of the mountains and enough land for a sustaining garden and bees to start and chickens to follow and maybe a goat when it’s really time to settle down and all of the sweet and simple things that shouldn’t just be for vacation. BUT never fear, beloved Brooklyn, because we are ornery and require decent chinese food, because even though she’s been battered around a bit (and she’s battered us around a bit), we aren’t through with New York yet. So, we are also moving from our current apartment into one right up the street, keeping a place in our hearts and our neighborhood, a Brooklyn brownstone floor through right above this guy:BIG NEWS, right? Wanderlust vs. Homesickness, City Mouse vs. Country Mouse, Brownstone vs. Farmhouse, we just couldn’t decide yet. So, we’re going to try for both. Posts here will be fewer and farther between during our big move(s)—which also includes finding a home for unscathed furniture for the flooded Rockaway house, just for fun— but you can follow our adventures over on Instagram  (@featherbyfeather) in the meantime. In love and nesting.