Roofdeck Redux – The Misanthropic Hostess

Sorry folks, no food porn this week.

This summer marks a milestone for TD and me. Both of us are teaching graduate courses in different programs at different institutions (and the program I’m teaching in is in a different institution from where I work during the day). We may never have our own reality TV show (because that’s the ultimate metric of success if you live in L.A. right?), but I think it’s kind of cool that someone out there believes each of knows enough about our respective day jobs that they think we are qualified to teach to other people (either that or they were desperate, which is fine too). Unfortunately, TD’s class ended on a Tuesday and mine started the next day. Which means no summer vacation for us this year.

No biggy. Because I had a plan. And it involved the roof.

One of the things that sealed the deal on our little townhouse was the rooftop deck (for TD it meant no lawn to mow, for me it meant a peak-a-bo ocean view). When we first moved in, the BBQs immediately went up there as did a table and a couple of chairs. Then, we quickly discovered that the East-bound breeze we loved so much funneled through our building’s courtyard like a smoke monster chasing Locke at 80 MPH. Talk about a hostile environment. So, for the last five years, the rooftop deck served minimally as a tableau for cooking with fire and a home for Edgar J Burro.

Poor Edgar was so lonely.

And so was our deck.

Knowing that we wouldn’t be dining al fresco in any exotic places anytime soon, I set out to bring the al fresco to us. I used this pasta tile as inspiration. And a teeny tiny budget (because we’d just done the master bedroom which you’ll see next month).

The tile lead me to this rug.

A trip to Home Depot lead me to this really comfortable outdoor furniture.

Which was on sale for a ridiculous bargain. But was the wrong color.

So, I refinished the love seat and chairs but left the table for a little contrast.

Made some throw pillows from leftover fabric from the bedroom.

Added a new umbrella and some flameless candles for ambience and wind-out-smartiness. Et voila. A fully furnished roofdeck oasis for about $800.

And the wind? Having just now spent more time out there than it takes to cook a chicken breast, we’ve learned that it dies down just about the time the sun is setting.