One of my favorite features of Canadian House & Home is when they compare very similar products across different price ranges. Here is my own take on that:

Capiz Shell Pendant, "exclusively" (their words) from Horschow, $549 (sale price)

VivaTerra – Lotus Flower Chandelier – $329.00

Capiz Pendant, Pottery Barn – $199.00

A friend posted this article on Facebook. Articles like this always have an impact on me. Perhaps it was growing up with the vulnerability of having a single, sickly parent. Perhaps it was watching said parent struggle to come into her own – and who sometimes still struggles against the perceived expectations of others.

The first one, the regret about not fulfilling more dreams, resonates the most with me. I’ve been saying for years that I want to set aside more time to do the things I *want* to do instead of just the things I *have* to do. I want fewer weekends that are made up entirely of chores and errands. I want to see more, do more.

The thing is, I have  NO EXCUSE. I have no children and the corresponding merry-go-round of soccer games and gymnastics classes and play dates. I have financial resources. What is holding me back?

Even more: what are my dreams? I seem to have gotten so caught up in the daily grind that I can hardly remember dreams. Granted, one dream was to climb Pico. I realized that last year.

I would like to spend a summer in the Azores, hiking every island.

I would like to spend Christmas in Rome.

In fact, I would like to visit every continent. I am missing Australia, South American and Antarctica.

I would like to take up photography again.

So for 2012 I will re-connect with my dreams.

PJ was here, with her full decorator hat on when we turned our discussion to the living room. Window treatments really anchor the room, but the furniture needs a refreshment. Tired old 15-year Pottery Barn overstuff chair and loveseat take up too much room. Curved bay window…

So the plan is for a conversation sofa, anchored by two low-profile floor lamps, a ceramic garden stool…

Gray basketweave garden seat from Horshow

Over the last few months, I have started an obsession over Morocco. Don’t ask me why; I’ve never been there. Perhaps my body just aches for warmth as I dodge the gale force winds here in SF (although yesterday we had a miraculously warm day). It actually started a few years ago when I bought an antique Moroccan hand-cranked coffee grinder, to be displayed in our kitchen. It looks something like this:

Then, I bought this fabulous light for our dining room:

When I first started our interior design project, my overall theme was “urban villa.” I wanted to evoke Italian and Mediterranean themes, yet keeping it contemporary without all the clutter that is often the failure of so-called “villas.” I wanted the interior of the house to be an oasis from the blustering fog outside.

Along with this evolution, my culinary interests have also taken a decidedly Mediterranean expanse east and west.

While I still love regional Italian food, my tendencies are now more “middle eastern” and north African. (More on that in a future post.)

Ryad al Avila

So while I’m still on the “urban villa” theme, it’s a little more “urban riad.” And while the idea of an interior courtyard — or any kind of “outdoor living room,” for that matter — will just be a fantasy as long as I live in SF, I am still inspired by these images.

Boudoir

So now my attention turns to the master bedroom. We already have our furniture. Although if I were to do it over, I might retire the two end tables. One is a round, black table and the other is a mini-dresser for GS to store his back issues of Italian soccer magazines. I’d want something lighter since the rest of the furniture is bulky. Too much Restoration Hardware, anyone?

So most of what I can fix is with textiles and decorative elements. I may revisit our friends at Stitch to do some custom window treatments and make me a duvet and pillow shams.

Here are my inspirations:

It has been a long and emotionally exhausting day. For the last two weeks, when we learned of my mother’s kidney cancer (urethelial transitional carcinoma, typically associated with bladder cancer) both my mother and I have worked hard to be strong for the other. But this morning as she was prepped for surgery, the veneer started to crack. The fears we both had—that this has metastasized, that something wrong would happen in surgery, that was soon to die—came squarely at us. Our good-bye as she was wheeled to the operating room was painful and difficult.

My emotions have been kept in check, bubbling just below the surface. The moment a kindness was expressed the vulnerability started rising in my throat. But I’ve managed to keep that in check. Perhaps not the healthiest approach, but it was a fine balance between allowing myself to feel the full brunt of my fears and sadness and not getting carried away with my imagination.

Tonight she is resting in a private room on the 13^th floor at UCSF, with panoramic views of the Golden Gate Bridge and the Bay. It’s gorgeous up there. The team could not be more caring, friendly and knowledgeable. Although a large academic medical center can be overwhelming to many people, I feel perfectly at ease in that environment.

The surgeon is so sincere, so real, while at the same time being a nationally recognized urologist. I was having a “moment” when he appeared in the waiting room. The surgery (nephrectomy) ran smoothly as planned. She has four small incisions, the largest just big enough to pass a four-ounce kidney. She’s expected to be discharged Wednesday.

No subsequent plans for radiation or chemotherapy, but a very close monitoring of her bladder and other kidney. We are heading into “cancer survivor” territory—the careful, every three months, watchfulness. I can already feel myself holding my breath.

Cancer. The word has a metallic taste in your mouth. Leaves you thirsty. And when the doctor first utters the word, you hear almost nothing else. The rest just echoes. Did he really say that? What else?

Dr. S called me in the surgery waiting room where CNN was covering a story of President Obama visiting the site of the World Trade Center just a few days after the killing of public enemy number one: Osama Bin Laden.

Mom had gone in for an endoscopic exploration of her left kidney. After almost six months of frequent bathroom trips and varying degrees in blood in her urine, he finally told me the news. Her urologist in Napa had done a similar procedure just nine days after her birthday and told her there was no cancer. He told her she had a rare “renal hemangioma,” a vascular tumor. Totally benign, albeit very rare. He sent pathology slides to Stanford and they confirmed his findings. We joked at how she was always the one to get the weird stuff. We weren’t sure how to fix the problem but we knew one thing: the urologist in Napa was not trained, nor experienced, enough to tackle it himself.

The UCSF urologist, an internationally recognized kidney expert, scoffed at the claims of rarity. He dismissed the Napa doctor’s claim that there were only ten reported cases of this in the world. He personally has treated over ten people. No one in the clinic even raised an eyebrow at her diagnosis. The interns and residents did not swarm the room to look at the freaky case. At UCSF this was practically routine.

But Dr. S wanted to look at it himself. He wasn’t sure from the report whether the Napa surgeon had been thorough in his examination. He wanted to see for himself.

And what he saw was cancer.

The phone call took less than a minute. He asked me again if the Napa surgeon had looked all over the kidney. How can I answer that? I didn’t see the surgical report. I wasn’t there. He didn’t tell me. He asked how long my mom had suffered the symptoms. I told him, again. He asked if my mother had ever smoked. No.

So he told me he wanted her in sooner than later to remover her left kidney. He reassured me that he didn’t think “we’ve lost any ground.” And that was it. The end of the conversation. I went back to my seat in the waiting room, feeling alone yet relieved I didn’t have to utter the words to anyone yet. I emailed some people. Posted on Facebook.

A friend called me immediately. She lost her mom last year and had the deep empathy in her voice that only someone in her position could have. And the ton of bricks came down on me. I could barely speak to her. I wasn’t ready to have a conversation about this. She could not have been more supportive. A minute later another friend called, and managed to make me laugh. What a relief that was. I rallied.

A tectonic shift in priorities happened to me that afternoon. The deadlines fell away. My obsession with my weight seemed trivial. In fact, almost everything I worry or complain about seemed shallow and self-absorbed. Being self-absorbed is a birthright when you’re an only child with no children of your own, I guess. But on that day, it shifted.

Now that I’ve had a few days to settle into it, have had a follow-up conversation with her surgeon, have scheduled her nephrectomy for May 23…I and we are in a holding pattern.

On surface things are back to normal. I’m frantic with work. I’m exercising. I’m running errands, doing chores. But I’m making fewer plans. I’m meditating again, if just to keep myself in check to focus on what we know and what we can do now, rather than the “what if” of the unknown. And I’m re-grouping.

I decided that my New Year’s resolution is to climb the ten toughest hikes in the Bay Area. I’ve been researching and I’ve come up with this list.

Berry Creek Falls Loop at Big Basin Redwoods State Park

• 10.2 miles

Mount Sizer (Seizure??) Loop: Henry Coe State Park (Morgan Hill)

• 15.6 miles

Murietta Falls via Ohlone Wilderness Trail (Livermore)

• 11.9 miles

North Peak at Mount Diablo State Park (I did the Mitchell Canyon hike in preparation for Pico, Acores)

• 10 miles

Robert Louis Stevenson State Park (Napa)

• 11.2 miles out and back to the top of Mt. St. Helena, elev. change is 2,200 feet)

Mission Peak Regional Preserve

• 6.2 miles

Dipsea Trail (Mt. Tam)

• 14.2 miles round-trip (we don’t need no stinkin’ shuttles!)

It seems that any trail on Mount Diablo gets on the “toughest hikes” lists. Those would probably make up the rest, unless someone can make suggestions.

It’s time to replace the wooden blinds in our dining room and living room. The “Country Woods” look doesn’t support the style I’m trying to create. But what IS my style?? When I started to plan for the kitchen and started buying furniture, I had fixated on a Mediterranean villa look. I’ve since bought and looked at many interior design books that focus on Tuscan style, villa decor, etc. And few of them resonate with me. Too ornate. Too cluttered. Too dark. Too “flea market.” What some call “patina” I call plain old and worn.

I’m still enamored by the idea of a villa style, but more contemporary. Cleaner lines. Brighter. More urban. So I’ve defined my style as Urban Mediterranean (aka “Contemporary Villa”).

Here are some inspiring photos that exemplify the look.

The previous owners of our home were definitely into the “cottage” look for decor. We have been slowly minimizing that. I’m not sure what our “look” is, but I’m going to call it “Urban Villa.” That is, I like clean, contemporary lines mixed with the Italian/Mediterranean country villa feel. I’m not sure this will be successful but we’ll see. One of the big elements that we’ve needed to address were the white “country woods” blinds throughout the house. They worked perfectly well and we’d focused our energy (and $$) on other things like the kitchen. Well, now one of the fabric strips that holds the blinds together has disintegrated (sun exposure?) creating this askew look.

So it’s a perfect time to pick out new window treatments–at least in the living room and dining room.

We will likely go with a layered treatment: a roller solar shade (that you can see through) with silky or gauzy or linen to-the-floor drapes. What I don’t want are big heavy valances that weigh down the look. They always remind me of really heavy eyebrows.

Here are some images that serve as inspiration.

I’ve decided not to get a “real” Christmas tree this year. They’ve gotten quite expensive and I’m starting to see a folly in spending that money for a tree that will last, at most, three weeks. I’m looking into “fake” trees, but if I’m going fake, then I want to go all out. Solution: tinsel trees. The price variability is pretty surprising. Here is a comparison of two I found.

7' tinsel tree (this is the tabletop version), Martha Stewart, $399

7' gold tinsel tree, Walgreens, $159