Sleuthing it out

Any fleck of boredom has lately been cured with Craigslist. In the past, I've been overwhelmed by line after harsh blue-fonted line only a few minutes into perusing for, say, a Mitchell Gold + Bob Williams couch for $1.50. It's a lofty goal, I admit, and until a startling discovery called Craigseasy, I withered easily.

Not anymore, folks! Now that I can sort so swiftly, and most importantly by viewing lists of images, I am a Craigslist...dominatrix? That doesn't sound quite right (God help the google search), but in general, I am DOMINATING Craigslist.

Recent finds include a refinished daybed and trundle, a Pottery Barn seagrass chair that never actually got picked up (not the point!), and some disrespect for the owners of a certain antique shop in Crown Hill who obviously don't follow online etiquette.

But what I really want to talk about it how you search on Craigslist. Ebay is so much easier, they think of things for you! But Craigslist takes much more calculation.

I'll show you my keyword search list if you'll show me yours...

seagrass
tufted
velvet
eames
rocker
rocking
club chair
pottery barn chair
malabar
west elm
crate and barrel
garnet hill
restoration hardware
anthropologie
console
side table
slipper chair
sisal
cost plus
world market
pier 1
hemnes
billy
mitchell gold bob williams
design within reach/dwr
club chair/leather club chair

A Jolly Good Fellow

Our sweet Henry passed away today. He was a fourth grader. A witty, sassy kid who was claimed as a best friend by at least 12 kids I know. He loved to "window shop" at Toys 'R Us, take trips by limo to the Lego store, and make his mom laugh. My wise friend Marla, the one who "walks like a penguin," in the words of Henry, says there's a cumulative effect when you see kids being snatched away by cancer. Just because it's our job to be in Cancer World doesn't mean we'll ever be immune to the inexplicable unfairness, the grief, the shit of it. It's like a big tower of Legos that stacks up and you can't ever unstack it.



Last week Henry asked our volunteers to help him write a song. He had already named it when they arrived at the hospital, guitars in tow: Henry's Happy Life.


*I wouldn't typically feel comfortable telling a family's story here on my ridiculous little blog, but Henry's mom has always asked for his story to be told. She has pleaded for prayers and support--email chains, you name it--for as long as we've known her, so it seems to me that his story should keep being told. Please be respectful in sharing their story.