Living Room

Warmenhovens Share Mediterranean Estate, Tea Garden with Charities

Thursday, April 1st, 2010

Pool and ViewBy Julia Prodis Sulek for Lookiloos and Scene Magazine, photos by Lookiloos photographer Desiree Northend

Charmaine Warmenhoven was in high school in 1964 when news of the notorious murder of Kitty Genovese on the streets of New York spread across the country, a shocking story because even though many heard her screams, apparently no one did a thing to help.
Charmaine was fascinated, though, less about the bystanders who did nothing and more about the idea of those who “try to do something.”
With a strong foundation as a woman of faith and a psychology degree from Princeton, reaching out to others in need has become a guiding principle of her life as a philanthropist and educator of special needs children.Living
“It’s part of our value system,” she says. “You are meant to provide service to others. I’ve been doing so ever since I can remember.”
From the graceful Monte Sereno home surrounded by acres of gardens that she shares with her husband, Network Appliance board chairman Dan Warmenhoven, the couple open their doors to fundraisers benefiting causes ranging from cancer research to local arts groups to Catholic charities. In June, she is hosting the Silicon Valley Heart Gala for 250 to raise money for the American Heart Association. With Yahoo CEO Carol Bartz chairing the event, the nonprofit is expecting the guest list to include some of the valley’s tech luminaries. If all goes well, the charity hopes to raise more than half a million dollars (maybe a million, dare they hope) at this single event.
“Dan and I feel we’ve been given a lot, and we need to give and to share,” she says. “It’s more than a habit. It’s a lifestyle.”
And Keri  Janssen, CEO of the Silicon Valley American Heart Association, couldn’t be more grateful.
“They are very down to earth and very dedicated to making a difference in the community,” Janssen says. “Opening your home to an event is totally different than giving money. They are dedicated to the mission and the cause and have been for over 10 years.”
Hosting the fundraiser at a home rather than a hotel is much more intimate, she says. Besides, “who wouldn’t want to see the Warmenhoven home?”
Kitchen WindowA winding driveway leads you past oak trees and a sunken Japanese tea garden to the grand estate atop a hill. A 17th-century wishing well and a stone gazebo adorn the front garden that overlooks the lights of the valley below.
The back yard, with terraces surrounding a pool and cabana house, will be the setting for the June party. A saxophonist will play during cocktail hour from the balcony, and tables will be set up around the pool. Each guest will be given a candle to light, representing heart disease survivors, and float them in the pool.
“It will be the feel of a romantic, starry night,” Janssen says.
The causes Warmenhoven supports are close to her heart. As a child, her mother was a concert pianist, and she was a dancer. As an adult, she has served on the boards of Ballet San Jose and the Montalvo Arts Center.
With her father in the military, her family moved around a lot, she says, and going to Catholic church on Sundays wherever they happened to live “felt like family and it gave me a sense of stability and belonging.”
After teaching disabled children for a number of years, she went on to work for  the Catholic Diocese in Santa Clara County, helping people with disabilities feel included in church life. Just last year, the Warmenhovens hosted a garden party for the Knights of St. John, an organization ounded to take care of wounded soldiers but that now donates frequently to children’s hospitals.
Charmaine’s father died of cancer when she was 13, and the Warmenhovens have been supporters of the American Cancer Society’s Cattle Barons’ Ball each year.
“I do a variety of different things,” she says, “but they all make sense to me.”Rear View of Home
She and her husband met sitting next to each other on a plane on their way back to Princeton from the West Coast when she was a junior and he was a senior.
“He asked me to dinner,” she says, “and we were married two years later.”
After moving around the East Coast with his jobs for IBM and HP and hers in teaching, they arrived in Santa Clara Valley in the early 1980s. In the mid-1990s, Dan Warmenhoven became president and CEO of Network Appliance, employing 45 people at the time. It has since grown to 8,000 employees worldwide.
The Warmenhovens moved from their house in Saratoga, which their son and daughter-in-law now own, to the Monte Sereno estate three years ago. Even though the house is grand, the rooms feel intimate. And she loves the indoor/outdoor flow of the house, which is perfect for entertaining.
She enjoys planning gatherings for her family and close friends, but she leaves the big parties to the pros. She has her list of favorite local party planners, florists and caterers.
“I just sit back and applaud,” she says, “and open the door.”Julia Looking Left - Lookiloos

Here’s the complete slideshow:

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

Growing Family Downsizing with Style

Wednesday, March 24th, 2010
Desk in Breakfast nook

Desk in Breakfast nook

Meg Picanco has quite a home decor pedigree. For years, she and her  late mother, Nancy Biagini, owned and ran the highly-regarded Casa Casa store on San Jose’s Lincoln Avenue. And until last fall, she was a  partner in Willow Glen Home and Garden just down the street.

So you would expect the home she shares with her husband and two young children to be well appointed. But several life-changing events over the past few years have forced her to rethink the importance of belongings and what it truly means to make a house a home.
The top of a bookcase serves as a spot for special things

The top of a bookcase serves as a spot for special things

Like many families in these tough economic times, the growing Picanco family has downsized to half the space they were used to. And leave it to 41-year-old Picanco to do it with style.
She has turned the 1,400 square-foot cottage she rents in Willow Glen into a charming oasis filled — sparingly — with carefully chosen, quality furnishings from her retail days as well as the family heirlooms she cherishes most.
From her grandmother’s spice cabinet with a needlepoint inset to her mother’s glass-topped coffee table, the house has a feeling of warmth and deep roots no matter how temporary the rental may be.
“Bringing things into your home that have history give it a special aura,” Picanco said.
4414854286_145d8f0942_bHer journey to the rental house has taken a circuitous path. Picanco, her husband, Mario, and their two young children, Gabrielle and Giancarlo, were living in a 2,800 square-foot home in Boise, Idaho — “in search of a calmer life where we could live on one income.” But less than a year into their lives there, she was confronted at the same time with two frightening realities: her mother was diagnosed with colon cancer and her 19-month-old son was confirmed deaf.
Not only did she want to be close to her mother in San Jose as she fought the disease, but Picanco and her husband discovered that a top preschool for the deaf was located just up the peninsula in Redwood City.
“We knew we had to return to California,” she said. San Jose is where she studied interior design from San Jose State University and when she was 23, opened Casa Casa with her mother. Her sister joined later. When children came along for the sisters, the trio decided to sell the business. Picanco stayed on as a buyer for the new owners for a year before moving to Idaho in 2006.
They had been homeowners in San Jose before they moved and her husband holds a solid job in high tech, “but we could not afford to buy back into the market when we returned.”
So what did she do? She did what any woman would do: she held a garage sale. And she was compelled to sell “all the things that were wonderful, beautiful things I loved.”
But she kept a painted chest that her grandmother had left to her (and had tucked a note addressed to her inside for posterity,) a pair of her mother’s table lamps, a set of nesting tables her aunt brought back from Florence, and a delicate, bamboo-style chandelier that has stayed with the family through their moves and is decorated with holly berries at Christmas and streamers for birthdays.
4414024163_5f71b43c5d_oAfter a stint in one Willow Glen rental distinguished by a pink tile kitchen with a butterfly motif, she found the house her family now calls home, a place she hopes to stay in for at least the next several years.
It is the simplest of floorplans: small living and dining rooms, a newly-remodeled kitchen with a tiny breakfast nook, and three small bedrooms and one bath off the back hallway. No family room. No walk-in closets. The only extra is a quarter-basement that is just big enough for the washer and dryer and Picanco’s hanging clothes, folded sweaters, and neatly stacked shoes.
She maximizes every inch with function and style. She has turned the breakfast nook, that was practically too small for a table and chairs, into an office with one elegant, oversized desk topped with a computer. When the kids come home with backbacks and school papers, “everything gets filed immediately,” she said.
clock collection

clock collection

Perhaps the most surprising personal touch is her decision to invest in shutters for the dining room and bathroom. “I knew when we rented it , we would be here for at least several years, so why not make it our own home?” she said, “and I couldn’t live with metal mini blinds.”

She painted every room a separate color — coating the master bedroom with the same heathery hue she has used for her bedroom in every house. She filled her dining room hutch with her sterling silver and blue and white china as well as a pair of rhinestone-studded starfish. One had been her mother’s, and when she died in 2008, Picanco nestled it in a bowl with her own.
The Picanco family has lived in this house for just a year and in that time, their daughter has adjusted beautifully to her new school and their son has excelled at his. With cochlear implants, he can carry on conversations. “Every five minutes is a miracle,” Picanco said.
Their neighbors have become some of their best friends.
“I can’t deny I wouldn’t love to own my own house,” she said, “but we’re so happy here.”Julia Looking Left - Lookiloos

Here’s the complete slideshow:

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

Faux Bois from White Elephant Sale Adds Natural Beauty

Thursday, March 11th, 2010

oaklandtrip 018

A trip to Oakland last weekend for a triple play — a visit to the Alameda Pointe flea market, a trendy retro shop, and the Oakland Museum’s White Elephant Sale — ended with barely a thing for me. But for my friend, Dhelia, it was a treasure trove. And I enjoyed every vicarious minute — and the great bargains.

oaklandtrip 022The highlight for us was the White Elephant Sale, a huge rummage sale in a giant warehouse benefitting the museum. We went last year and each brought a large oil painting. So fun! This time, we used the same strategy — arriving no less than two hours before closing on Sunday. That way we would get great bargains — and wouldn’t know what we missed.

As the photo shows, Dhelia nabbed a beautiful pair of faux bois chairs, a French term meaning fake wood. In other words, they look like wittled branches. (The funny thing is these really are wood, so maybe it’s more bois than faux….)

They were in immaculate condition, with cane backs. The price for the pair was $300,  but because of the late hour, reduced to $150. With 15 minutes before closing,  the kind volunteer said, “make me an offer.” I pulled Dhelia aside, whispered in her ear, and she offered $75.  Sold! Now how much happier can a pair of girlfriends be?

oaklandtrip 020Dhelia had already purchased a gorgeous, antique oil painting at 50 percent off the original price. With slight rearranging of her living room, the faux bois chairs sit behind a couch, looking out her french doors to the garden. Beautiful. Julia Looking Left - Lookiloos Read the stories I wrote after last year’s White Elephant to take a peek at our purchases and what we did with them…

$33 At White Elephant Sale For Oakland Museum

Before and After:A touch of modern art in traditional space

Vintage End Table-Bar Cart Doesn’t Solve Dilemma

Tuesday, February 23rd, 2010

IMG_0149

Ever watch “What Not to Wear,” where fashion mavens Stacy London and Clinton Kelly give style advice to unwitting fashion faux pas victims, but until the very end of the show, those victims still pick out the least flattering outfits on their shopping sprees?

Well, I kinda feel like I’m one of those victims, when it comes to my home decor dilemma. I’m getting great advice, but I’m not executing well. In my last two Mud Room posts, I have received several comments from loyal readers giving me the thumbs up and thumbs down about solving my end table and lighting issue in my living room. One in particular, from Val at Retro@Home in Emeryville said that because I already have heavy pieces in my smaller living room, I should get a “lighter piece. ..something two-tiered, perhaps with a nice leg detail, and glass topped would open up  the space and compliment your lamp!”

IMG_0147

Well, that sounded good to me, so I stopped by Not Too Shabby on Bascom Avenue in San Jose, and there was a vintage bar cart, or tea cart, in the window. It was glass topped and two tiered! (I felt like I should have a camera crew following me and Clinton and Stacy shrieking in horror as I say how this is exactly what they suggested!)  It has plastic wheels and a Greek gold key motif circling the edge of the oval glass. I liked the idea that it had a retro “Mad Men” feel and had a dual use. I really thought it had possibilities. But just as my first end-table choice was too heavy (and now appears headed for my den), I’m afraid this one seems too light. My husband, Chris, and my parents and a good friend, think the lamp is too heavy on top and the cart seems a little flimsy. What do you think?  I know I can count on you to be honest. It’s only on approval ’til this afternoon!Julia Looking Left - Lookiloos

Here are my previous posts on this weighty issue:

Light my Living Room: On a Mission for Style

Retro Furniture Search Ends in Husband’s Ploy for New TV

Retro Furniture Search Turns into Husband’s Ploy for New TV

Wednesday, February 10th, 2010
A false start on an end table, but possibilities abound. Nice lamp, eh?

A false start on an end table, but possibilities abound. Nice lamp, eh?

Let me ask you this: How can my simple quest for an end table for my living room turn into my husband measuring for a flat screen TV in the den?

For those of you who have any interest in following my little design dilemma, here is the latest: So, I’ve been a bit obsessive lately about finding an end table as a perch to add more lighting in my small living room. And I had the idea that it would be a stylish little thing, maybe channeling a little retro Kelly Wearstler. Well, after a jaunt last weekend to Move it Elsewhere in San Jose, a huge warehouse  that bills itself as a giant estate sale, I brought something home.  It’s a 1960s-era solid walnut credenza, with geometric carve-outs. It was one of two matching pieces, both with removable book cases on top. I hemmed and hawed for more than an hour before I loaded the solo piece into the station wagon. I took the legs off so it wouldn’t be too tall to sit next to the couch. I swapped my grandmother’s lamp from my parent’s attic with the  cool silver one from the den that I actually spent money on and set it on top. (I took designer Kathi Mann’s comments from my last story to heart, adding a little shimmer to the dark living room…)

Looks better with legs, doesn't it? Could this whole thing go in the den?

Looks better with legs, doesn't it? Could this whole thing go in the den?

I waited anxiously to see  Chris’ reaction.  Boy, can the truth hurt. “Too big for the space. Too clunky,” he said. Now, I’m not that unreasonable. And  I acknowlege that it lost a fair amount of its grace without the legs. But I really like it! And it was a bargain. Did I have to take it back? Was there another spot in our 1,900-square-foot house for it?

Well, in the span of a few minutes, Chris was measuring the wall of our tiny den, not only for the credenza and its mate, plus the bookcases, but a flat screen TV to span them both.   Do we need a flat screen TV? No. Do we need a credenza for the den? That wasn’t on my priority list. (The Ikea cabinetry holding the old TV isn’t that great, but it’s not a focal point for the rest of the house.)

Still, would I love to have both credenzas and book cases? Yes. Would that add style to the frumpy den? I think so. And would I concede to a new TV to make that happen? Quite possibly.

There’s only one problem. I still don’t have an end table.

Julia Looking Left - LookiloosIf you missed it, here was my first post about my lighting dilemma:

Light My Living Room: On A Mission for Style

Light my Living Room: On a Mission for Style

Friday, February 5th, 2010
My living room. I've since moved lamp into corner.

My living room. I've since moved lamp into corner.

I’m on a mission.  I need more lighting in my living room. (Even this photo is dark!) The only lighting is lamps — and since we’re not going to do any budget-busting recessed cans, I’m looking for more lamps and end tables (or a slim sofa table) for them. I’m heading to Move It Elsewhere in San Jose today (a giant estate sales open only one weekend a month), hitting up the annual St. Christopher Antique Show, and checking out Emily Joubert home and garden in Woodside, which is donating its proceeds from this weekend to Haiti relief efforts.

Sounds easy enough, right? Wrong!

Asian-style credenza with leopard skin lamp

Asian-style credenza with leopard skin lamp

The problem is, I’m in the midst of a decorating identity crisis. It’s just too easy to call myself eclectic. I consider myself a modern girl who loves clean lines (I’m an architect’s daughter afterall!). But look at my living room and you’d never know it. Still, it’s filled with things I love: an antique jewel-tone rug in reds and golds, a faded brown Belgian tapestry behind my French writing desk, and a black credenza with an Asian-style fretwork motif. I even love the lamps I have, including my grandfather’s cloisonne floor lamp, a small marble lamp with a leopard skin shade (from our days in Dallas), and a tall table lamp with a funky mid-century shade in gold and white I salvaged from a throw-away bin. Love it! (I even repainted a rattan chair from white to black that my mom sent me away to college with.)  

My crisis continues when I try to figure out just what look I’m going for here. I get so excited about vintage mid-century and ’60s things. I go ga-ga over Kelly Wearstler, who can take a 1970s heavily carved buffet table, paint it lime green and voila! But I need to get down to business. So, I’m looking for end tables on which to place lamps. I saw some at Not too Shabby in San Jose — bright gold boxes with glass tops (so Wearstler, I thought) but when I came back a week later, they were gone, of course. I saw some white Asian-style end tables, kind of retro, but they might be too stark.

A Kelly Wearstler living room. Why do I see myself as this?

A Kelly Wearstler living room. Why do I see myself as this?

And here’s the red herring. Out of my parent’s attic came a lamp from my grandmother — a 20-pound ceramic-but-looks-like-wood painted piece from the 50s or 60s probably with one of those huge conical shades. I’m thinking sentimental funky, and maybe that’s a good thing.  Take a look and tell me if I’m crazy to keep it. Or, perhaps with a new shade, someone might say, “You can pull it off, girl!”

The lamp from the attic. Be honest! (but remember it was my grandmother's)

The lamp from the attic. Be honest! (but remember it was my grandmother's)

I need help. Serious help.  

 

  Julia Looking Right - Lookiloos

Modern Living in a 1927 Spanish Colonial

Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010

4325521219_501a358290_o

 When my contractor invited me to an open house to view his latest
project–a renovation and addition to a 1927 Spanish Colonial home in Palm
Haven –I jumped at the chance to legitimately snoop around one of the most
historic, eclectic neighborhoods in San Jose.

009 A neglected two-bedroom one bath in disrepair when acquired by John
Ammirato of Ammirato Construction is now a four bedroom, two and half bath
dream home. While it has all the modern creature comforts, including an impressive
master suite, renewable resource cabinets, solar panels, and data networking
throughout, painful efforts were made to preserve the home’s original
architecture.
Like re-roofing the composite roof with reclaimed vintage clay tiles.
And keeping many of the home’s original features: the living room sconces,
fireplace mantel, arched doorways, built-in hutch, and coved ceilings.

“The living room hasn’t changed,” said Rita Strena, whose family owned
the home for more than 60 years before selling it to Ammirato. “But John
improved it. It has a new life now.”

Ammirato worked extensively with Stonelite Tile–which has been in
business in San Jose since the 1920s–to design the detailed tile work023
throughout the house. Some of it was hand pressed and painted using
original plates and molds from the early 1900s.
Ammirato, who has built several Spanish-style homes in Palm Haven, made
design decisions along with his wife, Linda, referencing books like Red Tile
Style, California Romantica, Casa California, and George Washington Smith:
An Architect’s Scrap Book.
The result is modern, stylish living while honoring the home¹s historic
past down to the gutters and porch brackets.

By Kim Kooyers,  a freelance writer and blogs at gratitude365 and SpiroChicks.

Here’s the complete slideshow:

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

Vicki Does Christmas with Succulents, Cabbages and Magnolia

Thursday, December 24th, 2009

4207175825_371e9468a5_o

Vicki Petulla  likes to call her California decor “Donner Party Chic” for her penchant for mounted antlers, magnolia leaves and willow branches. But she has a knack for reinventing her home every season so old things looks new again and hidden pieces are brought out of the shadows.

4207145081_8f469cba13_o“You know me, I get so bored, it’s sad,” she joked. Before Thanksgiving had even arrived, she was already anxious to start her Christmas decor.

In her living room, she added rich foliage and pomegranates into vintage cement urns she picked up at the Alameda Antique Fair that is open the first Sunday of each month.  She drapes a male portrait with fresh cedar. And on her chair, which until recently was red velvet, she rerecovered with an old white linen table cloth.

4207904770_3ff909f958_oIn her dining room, leave it to Vicki – the daughter of a decorator — to turn a liquor basket she keeps on the side board into a Christmas floral display with succulents, pink cabbages, white hydrangeas and lemons on the branch. It’s an unexpected display with surprising bits of sparkle as she tucks in vintage ornaments here and there.

From the chains of her dining room chandeliers, she hung eucalytus leaves and berries. A bay wreath hangs from the mirror.

4207929590_c821922b58_oVisiting Vicki’s home is always a treat, no matter the season. Thanks Vicki for opening up to us again! We want to come back!Julia Looking Left - Lookiloos

For more of Vicki’s Vignettes — and to see how her house looked in the fall — please read these stories and check out the gorgeous photos:

Fall Decorating Ideas, with Vicki’s Vignettes

A Decorator’s Daughter

Before and After:An outdoor Fireplace Transformation

Vicki’s Vintage-Inspired Holiday Party Favors

Here’s the complete slideshow:

Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer

Found: One Christmas Angel

Tuesday, December 22nd, 2009

Christmas AngelThought you were gone. Thought I’d never see you again. It’s been three long Christmases since you were last seen. So glad you’re back! My Christmas Angel.  Angel Wings

I purchased this angel 6 years ago. She is constructed of recycled molding and tin ceiling tiles. She is weathered, rustic and beautiful. She went missing 3 years ago. The same time roughly my oldest son moved back home and re-arranged our garage and attic storage. “No, Mom never saw her. What does she look like again?” said my darling eldest.

Angel Above Clock Niche

Suddenly,  she just appeared in the garage. And no one put her there….Hmmmmm.  Somehow I don’t think I’m getting the WHOLE story. But I don’t care she’s back and my living room feels complete this year.

Desiree Looking Left - Lookiloos

Lionel Train Set in Living Room: What to Do?

Friday, December 18th, 2009

4189163508_b159762764_b

When my husband’s old Lionel train set arrived by UPS from his brother in Michigan, it was as though Santa himself appeared in a big brown truck. It was five years ago, Christmas Eve. I was standing in the driveway with our two children, who were 5 and 7 at the time, when the driver headed our way with a large cardboard box.

Carefully packed inside was the electric model train set that my husband, Chris, and his three brothers used to play with each winter in the basement of their home outside Detroit. It had been his father’s before that. And now, on the most magical night of all, it had arrived in San Jose for the next generation, just in time. I choked back tears as I wished the driver a Merry Christmas.4189164464_63d0d386bb_b

Sounds like the end of a heartwarming story, doesn’t it? This was the part when the parents are supposed to embrace and the children open the box with eyes filled with wonder. Can’t cha hear the whistle blowing?

Funny how nostalgia can turn to exasperation and a midnight argument last week that almost woke up the kids. Where in the world can we set up this thing?
Unlike my husband’s boyhood home in the 1960s and ’70s, our home doesn’t have a giant basement rec room with a snooker table big enough for two full sheets of plywood on top to serve as a platform for this Michigan-made train set.

4188401331_ca73499522_bWithout it, the track never really found a home in our house. That first Christmas, the engine that had been boxed up for 30 years was too worn out to pull cars behind it. The next two years, when the track was laid on the living-room floor, the kids kept tripping over it, knocking down the cars and disconnecting the track. In 2007, Chris placed a piece of plywood on top of the dining table on the screened porch. But it was chilly, few ventured outside to play with it and the track started to rust. Last year, it didn’t even make it out of the boxes.

This year, though, Chris insisted the train and the plywood come back in the house and into the living room. And it had to be elevated, he said. That’s when the discord began.
I’m sorry, but am I out of line to protest when my husband wants to squeeze in the equivalent of a table set for 12 in the middle of our cramped living room that is barely big enough for a Christmas tree? Must this be a shrine to Lionel?

I already had holiday decorating insecurities. As much as I envision our house as an enchanted space filled with our hand-carved nativity scene, nutcrackers, Christmas candelabras and poinsettias, it more often than not feels like a mismatched montage.
To make matters worse, we were planning a Christmas cocktail party, plus Christmas dinner for 18. We needed more room, not less, for entertaining.

4188400775_9539e15bc0_b“Hmm, an 8-foot-by-4-foot sheet of plywood in your living room,” mused my friend Carolyn. “Sounds like a dance floor.”
One friend suggested that if we really wanted to show off the train set, we should deconstruct it and arrange the engine and cars artfully on the mantel. Another suggested building a catwalk around the ceiling like they do at pizza parlors. All we needed was sawdust and peanut shells on the floor. Great.

But the tradition of this train set was important to Chris and I understood why. The train set was sent a few years after Chris’ father died. It wasn’t an elaborate model with mountains and tunnels, but it included some special vintage pieces: a 1940s O gauge track with a pressed-tin signal house and a man with a swinging lantern who pops through the door when the train passes; a foot-tall light tower; three pieces of die-cast rolling stock; a 1975 Illinois Central GP9 engine that blows smoke and a matching caboose that lights up. It came with a bag of miniature pedestrians, benches and trees. Inside the GP9 engine box was the original handwritten note the boys found that Christmas morning when they unwrapped it for the first time: “Merry Christmas, Joey, Chris, Paul and Ed.” It was signed S. Claus.

Still, did it have to be mounted full scale, table height, smack in the middle of the living room? Couldn’t it be, maybe, half the size, in a corner somewhere? Midnight is the wrong time to have a conversation like this. When I imagined Chris pulling out the sheet of dirty white felt he used under the track to look like snow two years ago, I marched upstairs.

4188400611_7d76b12642_bAs we got ready for bed, though, Chris said one more thing: “I want the kids to have memories of this train.”
“I do, too,” I said.

The next morning, Chris said that the train didn’t have to be table height. It could sit on milk crates just a foot off the floor. But something would still have to be moved out for it to fit in. I volunteered that my writing desk be moved to the shed.
We could still sit a 6-foot Christmas tree on top of the platform in the middle of the track. I would replace the white felt with chocolate brown burlap.
And to convince myself that I could salvage some sense of style, I would sew a string of silky brown pom-poms to finish the bottom edge. (Chris objected at first, worried they would distract from the track, but relented.)

Last weekend, Daniel, who is 10 now, helped his father assemble the track. Claire, 12, set up a station vignette around the signal house. It was a rainy afternoon and I took in the scene as Chris plugged in the twinkling tree lights and turned on the Christmas music. Daniel blew the whistle.
As the train came around the bend, I approached the platform, knelt down before it, and fluffed the pompom skirt.
Julia Looking Left - Lookiloos