Nyumba's Profile

My nephew fell out of an elevated bed WITH a railing. The railing is pretty normal size, but he is very, very tall, and his long leg went over it like nothing when he rolled over. BAM on the floor. Luckily he didn't get hurt.
My daughter's high bed is low enough that I can see into it, something I insisted on for when she's feeling ill, or just to give a kiss goodnight.

Our kitchen is open to the dining area and living area and we often entertain for 6-20 people. I try to stash dishes into the dishwasher between courses (and we're in France, so there is a first course, main, cheese and dessert, with different dishes, silverware and wine for each), but it isn't always easy--sometimes it results in all the women (why? the men never seem to notice! is it our age?) hop up and help, but that really breaks up the conversation. Alternatively, I try to pile them up on the counter that is sort of hidden from view by the fridge. And I keep the lights in the kitchen off.
This is an issue only for winter dinner parties. In summer, we eat outside and can dump the dishes on the counter indoors as we please.

Good luck. I think the urban-rural transition is much harder than any international transition, and I say that having lived in four countries.

I also had an immediate "Frank Lloyd Wright" reaction, and a very positive reaction that is.

I have been salivating over Juliette Binoche's apartment in Damage ever since that movie came out in 1992.
A French movie called "Tanguy" is absolutely stupid, but the Parisian apartment is to die for.

I was enchanted by the little angels from Zanzibar, thinking I'd never seen such adorable kids (besides my own!) and then I scrolled down only to be enchanted again and again. I love kids and how they project their personalities. So wonderful!

Hey, DD Lizzy, I am dying with laughter about Laura Ingalls Wilder. I just read the entire series with my daughter, and am still a little stuck mentally out on the Plains. You totally nailed the analogy!
My last trip to Ikea (or to a real city, even) was over a year ago. It's just too far, and too expensive for gas and toll roads, to go more often, and it makes me very sad. Internet shopping isn't as good as being there, either. Horse meatballs--at least in Europe--or not (and I have nothing against horse meat), I adore their restaurant, especially when there's a little kid along.

I had an apartment in an old mansion in the Midwest that had been divvied up. I planted flowers in the front, herbs along the wall in the back. Kept it clean and weeded. The landlord loved me.
Another apartment, this time in Park Slope, Brooklyn, was above a funeral home. In fact, the landlady interviewed me with an occupied open casket a couple of feet away. At least the downstairs neighbors were quiet! When I left, to move overseas, the landlord and landlady nearly cried. I was surprised, since I had almost no interaction with them after signing the lease. "You always paid on time!" they wailed. That was shocking. Standards are that low?

FYI, lots of burglars use metal detectors to find stashes of gold jewelry. I was shocked to find this out recently. The detectors are small and can distinguish between metals. I also learned that burglars who are in more of a hurry stick to the living room and master bedroom, but don't tend to go into kids' rooms because they are such a mess. When we go out, we put our laptop in our kid's room (which IS a mess). I also have heard that they will overturn bookshelves, figuring any stash will fall out, and that they do the same in kitchens.

In France, cheese doesn't go in a fridge. It goes in a cool place like a basement. You set up a cheese plate in the kitchen before a dinner party so that when you get to the cheese course the cheese is at the room temp. Soft cheeses like brie and camembert will soften. Cheese at a dinner party is served in chunks, because slices will dry out. The plate is passed and people cut off what they want. I can see the convenience of slicing cheese for a reception, but you have to count on throwing out any leftovers. In restaurants in France, you are served a chunk/wedge/small round of cheese at the end of a meal, or else a cheese cart comes by, where you point to two or three cheese you'd like to taste and the steward serves you (presumably they won't make the hard cheese roll off the cart and onto your shoe).