Sure, it was only one of you. But one voice clamoring for updated baby nephew photos is all the encouragement I need. Two words: sheriff onesie. I've been sitting on this one for a couple weeks now and the discipline that took, I just can't tell you.

What I can tell you is keeping the peace in this one horse town must be exhausting work.

Scott, Ikea, Home Depot and I spent this three-day weekend gaying up my apartment. I mean designing my apartment. My place in New York was on the shoebox side of cozy and so I decorated it in a lot of mellow tones, so as not to make my visitors feel like they were in the middle of some sort of claustrophobic acid trip. Sage, burgundy, taupe. Cool, calm, peaceful.

"I call it blah," Scott said. The man pulls no punches.

So, in an effort to expand my horizons, I let Scott lead the decorating charge. Which turned out to involve a lot of paint. In colors that normally belong on jewelry store boxes and fat kindergarten crayons. Grass green. Tuscan yellow. Tiffany blue. It also involved a lot of me pacing in and out of the room as the paint dried asking, "Are you sure that it's not... too much?"

"Go bold. Trust your gay! I won't steer you wrong."

Today I tried to get some shots that show just how right he steered me, but the very reason we spent a three-day weekend inside my house playing Trading Spaces was that the weather has been just plain gross. Rain. Clouds. More rain. But since I know the Interweb is very forgiving and has a keen imagination, I'll show you what I got, bad lighting and all.

Here's a little (poorly shot) before & after of my office area:

My now super duper kick-ass dining room, and the holy-shit-this-is-bright bedroom:

Oh, and I also finally threw some shit up on the walls.

I decided that I wasn't going to decorate my apartment with art made my strangers. Instead, I chose to put up photos of the people I love, and the photos we take. My friends, their babies, the weird and wonderful things we see on vacation together. Oh yeah, and my cat. But that's to be expected.

Not even Scott the design diva and his magical colorfan are a match for a cat lady in training.

I'm sitting on the stone steps that lead up to my new apartment right now, catching sun and waiting for a furniture delivery. A new couch. Not to replace the one that is (hopefully) speedily on its way here from New York, but to fill in the empty space I like to call the den/office/this-is-where-I-pretend-to-work space. It's crimson colored and perfectly squishy and the best part is, it pulls out to a bed. Seriously, people, the Aerobed is a nice idea, but

Oh holy cow. I must interrupt myself to tell you that some dude just came into view (not three yards away), and as he hasn't noticed me, has begun pacing, smoking a cigarette and... adjusting himself. With, shall we say, real spirit and conviction. Amusing.

Anyway, I am growing less and less fond of the Aerobed. So in the Great Spending Binge of 2007, I bought the red couch of dreams. When I find the cords that go with all my computer attachments (iPod, camera), I'll show you just how dreamy. Such redness! Such squishiness!

Speaking of dreamy! Yesterday, I bought a car. My first, very own, mine-all-mine car. I absolutely love it. I haven't had a car at my disposal for... well, over five years. And never, ever have I had one that was mine. Mine to futz with (hello, sunroof) and wash and drive fast and sing out loud in. I couldn't be happier! Again, when I make the Big Cord Discovery of 2007, I'll show you just how dreamy that is, too.

Oh, and Sir Hal traveled fairly well; thanks to everyone for the helpful first time kitty flier suggestions. The poor beast clung to the bottom of his Sherpa bag for dear life, but there were no major incidents. Unless you count the bloody tracks he left on my shoulder at security. We've both since recovered from the trauma.

I'm gonna go hunt for those cords again. So much dreaminess to share.

UPDATE: New apartment slideshow!