This is the story of how I said Kate’s yellow walls were just right.  “Not too bold, not too soft,” I declared, adding “it’s a perfect backdrop for nearly all accessories.”  And best of all, the yellow walls perfectly matched the sand in a beach mural Kate insisted on hanging when we moved into Magpie Manor.

I successfully stalled until Kate, always the clever child, removed some decals from her walls -- decals she had stuck on the walls BEFORE the house caught on fire two years ago. Once removed, the decals revealed just how much Kate’s walls had discolored without anyone realizing it.  There’s nothing like a little smoke damage to stir the redecorator in me, so I immediately reversed course and declared “Your room must be painted!”  Kate, who just happened to be perusing a Pottery Barn Teen catalog, smiled and said “I know the perfect color.”

See what you think.

New paint meant new bedding, and new bedding meant new chairs, and new chairs meant new curtains, and new curtains meant a new bulletin board, and a new bulletin board meant twinkly lights . . .  and then I yelled STOP with the new, you diabolical teenager, you.

See, perfect match!

We managed to make do with the same old thrift-store dresser I picked up a couple of years ago; and the vintage iron bed I’ve had since college when my mother rescued it from the curb and gave it a coat of white paint; and a rug we pulled from the guest bedroom; and the very old-fashioned 13” television purchased for our kitchen a decade ago.

Because if there’s anyone who can make do, you know, it’s Kate and me.