...So, Perfectionism: Is it a Good Thing?

You may be wondering why I felt compelled to extoll the virtues of perfectionism earlier.  Even if you weren't wondering, I'm going to tell you anyway.  Remember my post about our stay at The Sanctuary resort on Kiawah Island a couple of weeks ago?  Well, what I didn't tell you is that I made them move us to another room after the first night because I noticed splatter marks on the walls around the toilet in the first room.  Gross, right?  Vomit, or... I don't even want to think about what else it could have been!  Soon after moving into the second hotel room, I was grossed out by the discovery of black mold between the marble tiles of the shower stall, and we asked the front desk to have it cleaned.  The black mold remained throughout our stay, as did a dirty tissue from a previous guest out on the balcony.  Now, does this tell you more about the hotel, or more about me?  Are my standards just too high?

One thing I can assure you of is that perfectionism comes in handy in the field of high-end design.  As I was reminded on my vacation, it does not feel good to be paying a lot of money for something and then have to complain about everything in order to get things done right.  That's why I finally looked the other way where the mold and dirty Kleenex were concerned -- I resigned myself to the fact that, no matter how much money I paid, no matter which room they put me in, the room would probably not be cleaned to my standards, and it's not like there was another 5-star hotel on the island that I could move to.  I had to make the best of things, but my memories of the trip are soured by the fact that I paid through the nose to stay in a dirty hotel room.  In my work, I obsess about the details in hopes that my clients will love everything the first time, without having to point out flaws and without having to feel bad about complaining in order to get what they want.

Remember the discontinued embroidered silk fabric that I'm having recreated by a custom embroiderer for my client who was the victim of a house fire?  I got a sample of the custom embroidery today, and I spent the better part of an hour agonizing over every little detail.  There it is, on the left in this photo, with a sample of the original fabric on the right.  Isn't it gorgeous?  The thread color definitely needs to be a darker shade of brown, but as I examined the samples side-by-side, and viewed the embroidery file in my computer software program, I found several nit-picky, minute revisions to request.  This fabric is going to be used for ceiling mounted swags that are going to be seen from across the room; no one is going to get this close to the embroidery once the window treatments are installed anyway.  Yet my client is investing a lot of money in these draperies, trusting me to deliver a couture quality product that begs to be admired up close.  There's no such thing as a perfect design, a perfect drapery, or even a perfect fabric, but the goal is always to leave as little room for improvement as possible. 

I have a feeling that my very talented digitizer, who does beautiful work that I am absolutely awestruck by, is probably whipping up a little Rebecca voodoo doll right about now after receiving my feedback on his design work.  Soon I am going to be experiencing mysterious, sharp pains inflicted by stick pins far, far away...  Still, I'd rather spend more time and energy getting the design right at this stage than have 16 yards of silk custom-embroidered and sewn into window treatments, only for my client to be disappointed by the quality on installation day.  Perfectionism: It's A Good Thing!

The Ultimate Beach Vacation for She Who Hates the Beach

I know what you're going to say, so let me stop you right there.  Everyone is supposed to love going to the beach.  If I don't enjoy parading around the seaside in 90+ degree weather, clad in scraps of spandex, dripping with sweat, and smeared with sunscreen, then there must be something wrong with me.  I'm probably an alien, or a communist, or a Death Eater.  My family has suspected as much for years, so to head off your argument, let's all just agree that I'm an alien commie Death Eater weirdo who hates going to the beach.

Unfortunately (for him), I'm married to a man who LOVES the beach, who has been begging me to accompany him to one of these horrible sand-and-sweat factories for several years.  So this year I gave in, and attempted to pull off a Beach Vacation for She Who Hates the Beach.  Last week, our whole family escaped to The Sanctuary at Kiawah Island Golf Resort on a small island near Charleston, South Carolina in an attempt to find "something for everyone" in our little clan to enjoy. 

Kiawah Island appealed to me for its non-beachy aspects: No crowds, no boardwalks, no traffic, and no noise except for the sound of waves crashing against the beach (until we arrived, that is).  The resort area is restricted to residents and resort guests, and the only other place I've seen such lush tropical landscaping is at my father-in-law's place in Naples, Florida -- and his property outshines the local botanical gardens.  This 5-star hotel has all the mandatory Rebecca amenities such as air conditioning, spacious marble bathrooms, room service, fine dining, beautiful decor, as well as balconies overlooking the Atlantic Ocean where we were able to eat breakfast in the morning and relax with a bottle of wine in the evening after the kids went to bed.  Check out the view from our balcony:

Isn't it gorgeous?  I would have spent more time out on the balcony if it hadn't been in the 90s and so humid during the day.  When I stepped outside to take this picture, my camera lens immediately fogged up and I had to clean the lens and wait a minute for my camera to warm up before I could get a good picture.

The Sanctuary is only six years old, but it was designed to give the impression of an Old Southern pedigree.  I love the authenticity of the slender wood ballasts on this curved stairway descending to the hotel lobby, and the serenity of the enormous Low Country murals on opposite walls, painted by Karen Larsen Turner, whose available paintings are displayed in the Wells Gallery at The Sanctuary.  I also noticed that every speck of trim throughout the public areas of the hotel -- the lobby, the stairwell area, and the hallways leading to guest rooms -- was painted with a glazed finish very similar to what my decorative painter did for my master bathroom cabinetry.

Here we have Lars and Anders, enjoying a game of chess in the hotel lobby.  A few minutes after I snapped the picture, I had to end the chess game prematurely due to rising tempers, rising voices, and raised eyebrows from a few other guests.

But by and large, The Sanctuary is a very family-friendly resort.  We were pleasantly surprised to see families with children of all ages everywhere we went, and the hotel concierge even arranged babysitting services for us for the one evening that I dragged Bernie to a "Jacket Required" dinner destination. 

The Golf Learning Center at Kiawah Island offers Junior Golf Camp for two hours each day after lunch, and I signed Lars and Anders up for these lessons on three of the five days that we were there.  They had a ball, and even after two hours of golf lessons in 94 degree heat, I still had to drag Lars off the golf course kicking and screaming when it was time to go to dinner.  Isn't the scenery beautiful?  This is Lars on the Cougar Point golf course, mugging for the camera.

Anders' Batman driver cover was a big hit everywhere he went.  It was a recent birthday gift from Aunt Janice the Manice, one of Anders' favorite gifts.  We also had to get him new clubs while we were on vacation, so his previous clubs are destined for his cousin James.  Now Anders tells me, "Mom, I'm a serious golfer."

...Oh yeah, and there was also that beach that everyone makes such a fuss about.  As far as beaches go, it was great.  You just walk onto the beach directly from the hotel, and the staff sets up chairs for you with fresh, clean terry cloth chair covers and towels and beach umbrellas.  Complimentary bottled water is available to hotel guests in a huge cooler right on the beach, and they even have shovels and buckets and other sand toys for the kids.  All you need to do is show up in your swimsuit with some sunscreen, a good book and your sunglasses and you're good to go.  I lasted all of four hours under the shelter of my beach umbrella on Tuesday, which has got to be a record for me.  On other mornings, I made myself comfortable in the air conditioned hotel lobby with a mimosa or a cappuccino and my book while Bernie and the boys worshipped the sun and played in the water on their boogie boards.  But I couldn't resist venturing down to the beach from time to time to see what they were up to and to snap some pictures.  I love this one of Lars flying his dragon kite on the beach.  A perfect memory of a perfect summer day:

So, would I have rather gone to Paris, or anyplace else with gorgeous architecture and museums and historical tours and no sand?  Absolutely!  But this one was for Bernie, and for my little boys.  May they always remember what it felt like when they finally smacked the golf ball 50 yards, and when the kite soared up into the air and Lars harnessed the power of the wind to sail a dragon through the sky.

Garden Blaaaaahhh... Heat Wave + Neglect = Ugly

I would love to tell you that this is what my garden looks like today:

...But no, I took that picture at The Sanctuary resort on Kiawah Island two weeks ago.  Okay, now in the spirit of honesty and humility, I'm going to post some ugly recent pictures of my real garden.

Isn't it sad?  Look at my Stella d'Ora day lilies that were blazing with yellow blooms just a month ago!  In my defense, it's been roasting hot for weeks and I've been hiding out in the air conditioning for the most part.  After taking this picture, I spent several hours over the past few days hunched/crouched over, pulling out dead foliage and yanking out the dried up stalks and seed pods.  By the way, the green succulent groundcover at the front of the bed is purslane that we planted to replace the daisies and blue flowers that didn't like growing there, but we'll talk more about that later.  First I want to show you a close-up of all the crud I pulled out of the day lilies -- I don't dig my own holes, but I prune crape myrtles, pull weeds, and tidy up the flower beds myself. 

See?  At first I was thinking the reduced blooming might indicate that these lilies need to be dug up and divided in the fall, but once I pulled out all the dead and dying foliage the plants didn't look nearly as crowded anymore.  I'm guessing my error was leaving the seed pods on the plants, those bulbous green things that seem at first glance to be flower buds, but they are more rounded and when they eventually open they have black seeds in them.  I've read that removing spent blooms on daffodils and other bulbs encourages better blooming, that the plant diverts energy away from flowers when they are doing the seed pod thing, and a quick google search on the Stella d'Ora variety indicated that their seed pods should be removed, too.  Hopefully my backbreaking labor in hundred degree heat will turn out to have been time well spent.  Already the bed looks healthier and greener, but of course I want my masses of yellow flowers to come back!

So, back to the purslane, which we've really been enjoying.  I took the picture of the day lilies in the late afternoon, when all the purslane flowers go into hiding like little red turtles tucked away inside their shells.  Here's what they look like every morning:

Isn't that pretty?  It would be even better with a mass of yellow lilies behind it...  But we're loving the purslane because it's drought-tolerant, so it's thriving and spreading out even in this horrible heat spell, despite neglect and indifference, and it's cute how the flowers all disappear in the afternoon and then pop out like Jack-in-the-boxes first thing in the morning. 

We have some yellow ones in planters by the front steps, too, with canna bulbs planted beneath them. I wish we had planted the cannas sooner because if we had, they could be blooming their big, tropical, orange flowers right now, but the yellow purslane and purplish red canna foliage is pretty together in the meantime.  Those are purple pansies in the other planter, by the way.  I think they should have been yanked and replaced with something summery a long time ago, but Bernie says "they're doing great."  I can't get my way all the time, or so he keeps telling me...

Now, back to some wretched plant misery!  Look at this dogwood tree that we transplanted early in the Spring.  It's tucked way in the back behind the kids' fort, in a woodsy area where I rarely venture because of the swarms of vicious mosquitos.  It didn't even occur to me to check on the dogwood back there in the shade, but apparently we don't have any irrigation back there yet and the poor baby is hurting pretty badly.  It's a really pretty pink dogwood, too, that we had originally planted in the front yard but had to move it because it couldn't take so much sun.  I don't want to lose it!

THAT, my friends, is what happens when you forget to water your beautiful African impatiens.  First I took the picture, then I ran for the watering can, and by the next day the plant was miraculously recovered, but I don't know whether I'll be able to get it to bloom again. 

 

My new azaleas have been suffering away in the back yard, too.  Man, we just planted these!  They are supposed to be growing and spreading, not shriveling up and turning brown!  Oh, the AGONY!

 

 

Well, we definitely need to add a sprinkler zone back in that area.  I want to plant more azaleas, rhododendrons, hostas, and ferns along the edge of the whole woodsy area that divides our back yard from the sidewalk, but I can't have everything curling up and dying on me. 

 

I can't end on such a dreary note, either, so here's a picture I took of my mom's red crape myrtle trees when we were at her house for Independence Day:

 

 

Keep cool this summer, and don't forget to water your plants!  I'm headed up to my sewing studio to try to make friends with my ruffler foot again.  Wish me luck!