This makes me exceedingly happy.

Tequila makes the sun rise in my soul.

The ModSauce Ranch had guests this weekend to celebrate an early Christmas.  We celebrated by making tacos and margaritas because that's what the baby jeezus would definitely have opted for over frankincense and myrrh had it been available.  People in olden times certainly had it hard.

To be completely honest, someone else made me the delicioso tacos and margaritas because even after all these months the kitchen of amazing awesomeness still inspires people to create culinary masterpieces.  That was the real purpose of renovating the kitchen...  So other people would want to cook for me.  That's what good design is - manipulative and saucy.

During this party weekend the Satsuma Sunrise was invented.  It's like a regular pitcher of margaritas but had about a dozen satsuma oranges blended into it.  It was so good I almost forgot who I was and celebrated the birth of jeezus.  Or maybe that was the tequila...?

And then of course we had to have an impromptu Design and Styling Challenge because it's a tradition now to create a cocktail out of whatever kind of booze and other drinkable liquids I have at the house and then photograph it looking sexy for maximum legitimacy.  I hear it's what all the cool bloggers do.

Also, it makes it taste better that way. 

And yes those are all things I had laying around the house.  It looks like we're celebrating the Day of the Dead at a Z gallerie in 1976.

Which would be AWESOME.

Merry Christmas Y'all!!!

click to enlarge for maximum rainbow effect

Yeah. Just me, Charlemagne and Jesus hanging out.  I think Jesus is high.  I'm a little tipsy.  It works because we're gonna stare intensely into the lit tree until the LED lights blind us.


The ModSauce gang wishes you a holiday full of fabulosity, cheer and awkward family hugs!

The Madame is like a Southern archeologist of weird shit: Part 2

Continuing on our journey from yesterday we are slowly trying to make our way up to the bell tower.

I want to go to there.

We don't know how to get there but we can see it.  I will not be bested by a tree house!

Oh look a kitty...!!

In a sitting area with nice carpet floors.  So relaxing and...

OMIGOD IT'S A FUCKING WOOD BURNING STOVE!!!  The art is a nice homey touch but won't help when you're BURNING ALIVE IN A HOUSE MADE OF FIREWOOD!!!!

In a closet room next to the little "living room" is the other kitty.  He looks pissed but I find this scene infinitely awesome.

And a matching doggie.  But this one's alive.  I think...  He was pointing the way up to this:

Just a normal bathtub on a deck about 7 stories up.   A bathtub painted with an OCTOPUSSY!!  I'm not sure how it got there but I bet it was the exact same way the pyramids were built....  SCIENTOLOGISTS!!!  Don't tell Horace because I bet it would really cramp his Jesus style. 

But look we're so close now!!  

Ok just a few more steps up this narrow hallway of possible doom...

I don't even know if I'm looking up or down but I still smell that damn camp fire and it makes me nervous...

Black and white is artsy fartsy

??? but I like it and it's real high so I know I'm closer to jeezus.

Ta daaahh!!  We made it!  Up in the bell tower it's breezy (you can tell because the whole thing sways like it's rocking you to sleep) and peaceful because you can't hear the redneck kids yelling way down below.  It really did feel like a secret tree house now.  And in the last few stairwells and specifically in the tower itself much of the graffiti was memorializing lost friends and loved ones.  Much nicer than the "Ashley sux dix" variety in the chapel area.  

But what's this...??

Just the best landscaping you've ever seen.  I think that's an American flag that some volunteers are helping to maintain.  I'm putting one in the ModSauce ranch immediately.  

You could then climb a tiny ladder to ring the bell but I think everyone was motion sick from the swaying and wanted to get down immediately...


So now what...??


TO THE BASEMENT!!!

There were a few floors below the chapel on the ground where the materials were housed until future use.

B&W for artsy basement contemplation...

I squee hard for abandoned furniture and things...


And so we move to the backyard...

5 story lawn chair swing

I didn't get a chance to ride because the hippies were being stingy and it also looked like a chair of death.  And that's saying a lot considering I just survived a 10 story fire hazard.

Nothing makes Jesus happier than graffiti in a doorway that opens onto a 3 story drop straight to the ground.  But it's easy to make fun of all this until you look at those balconies and remember that every single piece of wood in this 10,000+ square foot place was specifically placed by hand in each position for a reason known solely to the builder.  It all feels rather awesomely insane.  

But a thoughtful type of insanity where windows line up on a wall that is supported by a rock foundation. 

Being that this is a church I would have liked to write a stunning essay on the idea of sacred space and the rapture of buildings but I was mentally exhausted and really sweaty from the fear of dying, still distracted by redneck kids running around like heathens jacked up on Mountain Dew (ok that was me...) and somewhere somebody was hammering really loudly in an ongoing push to keep adding on to this place.  I didn't really have a moment for reflection because I spent a lot of time trying to find the nearest exit in case of emergency.  (It was usually a running leap off of the nearest balcony you could find.)  But it does boggle the mind to think about a man building his tree ark with no plan (that I'm aware of), no schematics, just a hammer and a few hundred thousand nails as a constant prayer for the last 17 years.   Awesomely insane or not that is a dedication to be respected and rewarded with an extra bag of combos and Mountain Dew.

The Madame is like a Southern archeologist of weird shit: Part 1

The Madame took a field trip for my recent birfday staycation (it was within 200 miles so the "stay" part still applies) inspired by this post about the world's "largest" tree house right here in Tennessee.  Largest is in quotes because you can't really measure crazy in quantifiable numbers.  To recap, some dude named Horace got a message from gawd in about 1993 to start building a tree house and so he did.  Just like anybody would do obviously.  With no construction background he just started building.  He says it's held together by faith.  He ain't shittin you.


Located two hours from Chattavegas it's just a quick trip through this:

to get to this:

Wheeee!!

It doesn't look that crazy... 

yet.

Until you step out of the car and see this:

Southern fried jeezus.

The first thing I noticed (other than all the rednecks having picnics and the sweet reminder about everyone's favorite savior) was that the entire place smelled like campfire which is not something you want to smell when entering a 10-story tall house made of matchsticks that could burst into flames just by the heat emitted from your thighs rubbing together while walking up a spiral staircase to meet my impending doom in this rickety house.  OMIGOD I'M GOING TO FUCKING DIE HERE BECAUSE OF MY FAT THIGHS!!!!

"Enter at your own risk."  Yeah - it said that.

This towering staircase is the main entrance to the circus of delights.  There is a certain sense of awe when you stand at the base of this thing and marvel at its sheer size and "craftsmanship" while actively disregarding your body's primal fear response for even thinking of stepping into a space that looks like it was built by a hurricane using rotting wood and jeezus spit.  Just ignore the flop sweat.  It'll pass.  Eventually...

In the meantime you can rest at this bench on your way up the stairs.  This staircase wraps around a tree and is completely sheathed with these haphazard scraps that are all vandalized by idiot tweeners like a booth at a dirty pizza joint.  Or at least the good ones I eat at.  


Eventually, after you're nicely dizzy and disoriented you kind of wander into an open area that is the chapel.

Look at that tree "support beam"

You can tell it's the church part because it's got a giant cross in it.  Apparently rogue campers are also using the space for the weekend.  Blessed be.  Tents were everywhere and the pews - yes there were church pews - were littered with Patagonia jackets, sleeping bags and drying bathing suits (Bikinis 4 Jesus?!) from the swimming pond nearby.  Homeless people sometimes sleep here too.  I bet they don't have Patagonia jackets.

The pulpit.  And a velvet Jebus displayed non-ironically.

Detail of the carved wooden pulpit.

Do you see the plywood arch detail near the top center?

Here's a closer look at the stadium seating from the chapel picture above.  I don't think I would set Charlemagne on those things to take a nap let alone invite a few dozen people on there to listen to a sermon.  That horizontal band of wood at the top is the front balcony of more seating.  Seating that is completely SUSPENDED those three stories up so your feet can dangle and you can feel like an angel flying.  Sometimes that might come in handy here.

Looking up from the chapel floor (which is on the 2nd or 3rd story) you can see the main roof up another few stories.  I use these numbers loosely because I really have no idea which areas count as real stories because I was already lost and "walls" and "floors" are really such a vague terms.  After the claustrophobic climb in the spiral of death to get here this view was quite breathtaking.  

Standing in one of the mezzanines looking over the central chapel (I can't even tell you how I got here) you can see some of the details - the "board and batten" railing was quite pretty especially for a man who knew nothing about building.  Even the curve of that corner echoes the curved pew I saw that sat in the shadows behind it.  This guy is either completely batshit insane or an absolute fucking genius.  Both I think.

I don't even know...

I believe most of the materials and furnishings are donated or found so there's a real thrift store/junkyard chic feeling about this place.  Probably why I liked it so much.  This picture makes me exceedingly happy.

Part of the ModSauce road trip posse included an architect although I wouldn't recommend inviting one if you visit here unless you would like to be told in horrifying detail exactly how you will plummet to your death at every step or watch in helpless horror as the weight of a squirrel collapses the roof on top of you due to the lack of building code compliance because of things like this:

Roof fail.  Or WAS it??!!! 

???????



The underside of some stairs.  I think...

 Of course we're all still alive so show's how much you architects know about miracles building things!!  AHAHAHAHAHA! 

Or designing floor plans because this entire place is like an awesome maze.  All of these pictures might be visually confusing and lack a sense of spatial depth because that's exactly how it felt to be inside.  We wandered around for hours because there is no way to get yourself oriented correctly.  There are no hallways or logical entrances or exits or continuous staircases but instead there were lots of dead ends and trap doors and secret spaces that kids kept popping their heads out of.  Every corner was a surprise and a puzzle.  It was exhausting and exhilarating.  However there was a general feeling of wanting to climb higher to visit the bell tower but hell if anyone knew how to get there.  


Oh look - some steps going up!!

I'm guessing this doorway led to one of the balconies that encircled each story for when you wanted to some fresh air but only for a minute because the roughly 2-foot wide balcony had large gaps of daylight peeking through the slats in the floor and I knew if I hit a rotten piece I would plummet to my death just like my architect friend told me I would and I did NOT want to prove that fucker right.  So I tried to step on the "joists" only...  They were not 16 inches on center.  More like 2-3 feet.  If I was lucky.

Uh oh... we're getting high...

Alright, I'm dizzy and tired so come back tomorrow for Part 2 of the MS adventure...  Squeeee!!

This makes me exceedingly happy.

The world's largest tree house:

article here

Built (and continually being built) by Horace Burgess after God spoke to him in 1993 and told him to build a treehouse.  It's 10 stories, almost 10,000 square feet and is a church complete with chime tower on top.  I need to go here immediately. 

here

Frank Kehran

258,000 nails, give or take a few, he says.  I believe him.

here

 from Baking with Medusa

I can't find a good picture but the two ropes in the middle of the picture are tied to a folding lawn chair to make a 10 story rope swing.  Fuck.  Yeah.

Guess what?  It's only two hours away from the ModSauce ranch in Cumberland County, TN.  Why no one told me about this I don't know.  Let's pack up the  ZQX87000&@% Camera of Amazing Awesomeness and load up on gummi bears, Mountain Dew and Combos because I feel a road trip coming on.

Three realities and a baby.

Madame Sunday has returned and recovered (read: I got drunk) from the four day attempted suicide mission vacation known as family fun time!!  Yipppeeee!  I travelled to the edges of the Earth - you may have heard about it through my previous complaining and Twitter rants - it's called West Texas.  Getting there required two cars, an airplane, an underground subway and passage through a mystical portal known as My Comfort Zone.  


It's a beautifully rough landscape full of rusted oil horses, worn out towns and quite a few multi-million dollar ranches scattered about.  I like all of that - especially the old stuff. But to a madame who revels in mediocrity it's a state full of extremes - both the physical landscape as well as the sociopolitical environment.  Bulls costs as much as my house, schools change history and sometimes it takes an hour and a half to get to a mall.  Also it's home to my kinfolk and there is plenty of delicious brisket.

Starting at the end (it's easier this way) -  I had spent the final morning driving to the airport for my return flight talking about Obamacare and socialism so once through security I stole away to the Magazine Orgasmisplosion Store to hoard Sour Patch Kids and smutty mags, my own personal brand of escapism, for the flight home.  I was lucky enough to find DHome, a local Dallas home and garden magazine, and inside lay pure editorial bliss exploring the OTHER side of Texas I had yet to see:  the pink lipstick, lavender walls, Cadillacs and over-the-top big city Dallas life.

So sparkley...

Here's the owner of the featured house - grandson of Mary Kay Ash as in THE Mary Kay of pink Cadillac makeup fame.  He's posing here with his favorite pussy on the dining table (I'm sorry I had to) and beard wife.   One look at her in that dress that I KNOW he picked it out for her and I knew this spread was my decorating salvation.  I bet the chandelier was purchased because it is reminiscent of Cinderella's pumpkin carriage. Just like a Texan fairy tale.  This whole thing was a glittery and overly-styled fairy godmother sent to shine a soft pastel light on the softer side of Texas I had yet to see.  Quite a far cry from where I just came from...

Oh ahahahaha!  Dearest Uncle CattleRancher - I can't tell if that was a derogatory joke or you were informing me about a hate crime you were planning to commit but I'm going to laugh anyway because I know you are not afraid to use that gun strapped to your ankle or the one holstered under your shirt or the two in your glove compartment.  AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!  ehhhh......

Lemme tell ya, this ain't my style.  But after four days of Sarah Palin and Jeezus (in that order) for breakfast, lunch and dinner this was like a design blogger lovefest.  There was 'swooning' and 'melting' and a lot of other shameful things.  It reminded me that I have a place in this world - a place where I can squee over that art in the corner, marvel at people who upholster things in silk and also give a middle finger to the shitty layout of this room.  FUCK YOU randomly placed felt poof!  Ahhhh..... I feel right at home now.  Well, almost.  

A few compassionately texting friends reminded me that back through the portal to my home that we shop at Ikea and yes global warming does exist and no it is not just Jeezus giving Mother Nature a hot flash and gay marriage really isn't a sign of the coming apocalypse.   Whew!  I was starting to forget!

mmmmhhhhh chandelier.

That foyer on the right is probably as big as my living room.  Seems reasonable - everything IS bigger in Texas.  And even though that antique desk on the left serves absolutely no purpose other than mildly hinting that someone in the house might sit there and pen notes on monogrammed stationary amidst the Murano glass collection it is kinda purty. In that completely useless way that only works in decor magazines.

My grandmother has a desk.  Well it's really a lap tray that she uses in her recliner where she does the daily crossword and writes letters to San Francisco (the city itself) telling them why she won't visit their town.  You know, because of all "those people" -  the ones who voted for Nancy Pelosi.   Oh and the baby-killing, ass-demon homosexuals too.

So here I am standing in the airport awaiting my sugar rush and all I can think about is how it's all just Texas - young millionaires with Baker furniture that might have never been used and poor families out in the middle of nowhere eating Velveeta casseroles all just tied up in bow of unabashed lone-star pride. 


Where do you think Madame Sunday gets her badassical attitude?!  Duh.

maybe this is bit more than pride.  I'd still do dirty things to get a closet like that.

Christ is this the Mariah Carey MTV Cribs edition?  This is the closet where her "husband" probably does her hair.  Looks like a stray pair of Louboutins wandered away from their home in a Rubbermaid bin under the window.  I can assure you that part is fake because everyone knows when you buy a pair of Louboutins they come with their own shoe angel that flies them up to the heavens to sleep at night.

In West Texas you wear cowboy boots.  Not because it's cool but because you are an actual cowboy.  Ok real cowboys are pretty badass.  I don't have anything flip to say about them.

Ok that bedroom on the left is pure hotness. I won't deny.

But this?  Didn't we JUST talk about white?   My family says godless liberals (I love you too grandmother) are ruining this country but I think it might be people like this who decorate in all white and use ridonkulous amounts of pillows on their beds.

click to blow it up.  seriously.

On the left are framed sketches of the custom wedding dress designed by her husband Austin Scarlett of Project Runway fame - yeah THIS lady!   But in all honesty -  I almost wept at seeing this picture with the baby. Not sure if I wanted to weep because the wallpapered ceiling had glass beads, the custom-designed crib was conceived even before the baby was and the plethora of PINK all made me want to throw up and vomiting makes me cry (and pee) ORRRR weep because that baby's head tilt is so fucking adorable it melted the wall of recycled water bottles and liberal guilt I was forced to build around my soul over the past three days. 

I think that baby is just reminding me that all is right with the world (except for that crib of course) once I get back to my middle-class boughie life, eat some organic vegetables and see what's on clearance at Target at a manageable 5000 miles away from the family I love.