Manolo for the Home

I love niche blogs. Back when Manolo for the Home was just getting off the ground, I posted about a blog devoted entirely to faux bois and another that concerns itself with nothing but Ikea hacking. I just recently came across another such blog — this one a tribute to ugly mailboxes.

Where I live, no one keeps a roadside mailbox. All of ours are attached to houses or porches, and some people even have slots in their front doors, as I’m led to believe is quite common in England. My father, mother, and grandparents all receive their mail in regulation-height boxes located on the very edge of their properties so the mail person needn’t get out of their truck. Now and then, jerky teens with driver’s licenses whiz by with bats and knock them over. Perhaps this is simply one of the perils of suburban living?

A certain Tim Morris wrote about suburban mailboxes, and I found his description of the average specimens to be apropos.

I began to look at everyone else’s mailbox on my walks. Were they as nice as mine? Did they have the E-Z Up construction? How did the neighbors manage to attach those foot-thick oblong cedar braces with the provided “Self-Tapping Wood Screws”? I certainly hadn’t been able to do that. Mailboxes were worth another look.

There are two kinds of mailbox: the ugly, and the hideous. Ugly mailboxes consist of a rounded steel box mounted on a plain length of pipe. Hideous mailboxes try to look like they are not mailboxes. Or rather, they try to look like mailboxes that are attractively shaped unlike mailboxes. No one wants to camouflage a mailbox so well that they hide its purpose completely. In this respect, mailboxes are like lamps. You know the lamps that purport to be coffee grinders, clocks, Chevrolets, Elvises, objets d’art, cigar boxes, stumps of petrified wood . . . each one with a lightbulb coming brazenly out of the top of it. So it is with hideous mailboxes. They flaunt their obvious disguise of their own obviousness.

The mailboxes I like least are the ones embedded in the chests of half-sized concrete manatees. It’s a Florida thing, I think. What did the ugliest mailbox you’ve ever seen look like?

The Beard likes to say that his birthday — July 21 — marks the beginning of the end of summertime. I swear I can already tell that the days are getting short, and nighttime around where I live has been pretty chilly for the past week. I’m not saying I’m a huge fan of the humid summertime weather we get here in the northeast, but it sure as heck beats the gigantosnow we deal with for what seems like seven months out of the year.

Okay, I’m playing the weather up just a tad, but I do sometimes wonder how a sunbird like me ended up living in an area where snowblowers are de rigueur. I can legitimately blame The Beard for that one, because he adamantly refused to move down to Florida where it’s nice and warm all year round. Now I find myself tethered to a house we vowed we will keep until our future children have moved out. Then, perhaps, we’ll move to Costa Rica where it’s nice and HOT all year round.

Before that happens, I get to do things like winterize the house. Yes, it’s still summer if you live where I live, but up until about five minutes ago, I was entirely unaware one is supposed to prepare one’s dwelling for cold weather. It’s never too early to learn about these things, right?

So what are we homeowners supposed to be doing when autumn rolls around? Here are just a few of the things you should be checking:

THE ROOF: Look for leaks around eaves, vents, skylights, and chimneys. While you’re up there, have a peek at the gutters, the downspouts, and the attic, if you have one. Repair and clean as necessary. Better yet, get down off the roof, call a pro, and enjoy the last of Indian Summer with a nice mojito.

YOUR HEATING SYSTEM: It wouldn’t do to have the burner peter out on a cold winter’s night, so vacuum baseboards or register grills, check the thermostat, change your furnace filter, oil the motorized bits, bleed the valves, and if it’s been a while, have a HVAC guy come in and inspect everything. Obviously, some of these recommendations apply to certain furnaces and not others, so do only that which applies to you.

DOORS AND WINDOWS: Do you feel a draft? Look for flattened weather stripping, and replace it. Seal any holes around windows with caulk, replace broken windows, and cover basement windows with plastic shields. Swap out screens for glass in exterior doors, and put in those pesky storm windows if you have ‘em.

PROTECT YOUR PLUMBING: Frozen pipes suck bad, so trust me when I say it pays to give them a little love before the mercury plunges too far. Have a look at the lines you can see, and ensure they’re cozy all season long by wrapping them in pipe jackets or fiberglass insulation.

Naturally, that’s not all you should be doing. Nothing’s *that* easy! Check out the winterizing how-tos at Paradoxpro and About.com to find out just how much work goes into homeownership. While you do that, I’ll be here daydreaming about living in a tropical clime…which of course are associated with a whole different set of problems.

For a mere $289,000, you can own the Jolly Green Giant’s childhood home!

Where I grew up, black houses definitely seemed out of place. The one black house in my neigborhood was dubbed “the witches’ house” and no one trick-or-treated there for fear of being used as a sacrifice in some devilish ritual. Original, I know.

I’ve always thought that big black houses look a tad foreboding. Who knows what shadows lurk inside it’s murky, twilight walls? Plus, they’re a little too Halloween for my taste, though that might just be memories of the witches’ house talking. I want to know how you feel about black houses — would you want to live in one? Or next to one? Take part in the poll, then expand your answer in the comments!

Note: This picture was originally published in the now-defunct Budget Living — you can find an article about the house here.

Channel 4 recently polled ten thousand people to determine which British buildings are despised the most. Twelve structures were chosen, spanning a variety of locales, and I can’t help but agree with those who were polled. Tastes may change, but I’m not surprised that many of these hated buildings are boxy, gray, and otherwise extremely drab.

Crown House, in Kidderminster, is a prime example of blah architecture. It once housed the Inland Revenue, but to me it looks like the yawn-worthy dormitory buildings I lived in while at university.

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It’s official — we’ll be spending half of the money we recently received on a patio set big enough (as y’all so rightly suggested) to accommodate guests and putting the other half toward a proper Dutch door.

For the curious among you, Dutch doors were originally used — and still are used — to keep farm animals in farmhouses while keeping wild animals out of farmhouses. They originated in the Netherlands, but it’s not hard to see why they became popular elsewhere! With a Dutch door, you can let light and air in, but toddlers and pets cannot escape.

Plus, they’re tremendously inviting. I’m imagining myself chatting with a neighbor or the mailman over the bottom half of my pretty new door. In this fantasy, I’m also wearing one of my aprons and the ::incredibly clean:: kitchen smells of freshly baked pie, but I’m no domestic goddess, so make of it what you will.