die, adjust or migrate

Thinking about white dishes - love them or hate them?

I never used to like white dishes. They seemed so utilitarian. So plain. But it seems I am changing my mind. I have seen some wonderful photos of white dishes lately and they are calling out to me "Do this at your house!" I found some yesterday at Wonderbuck's for very reasonable prices. All of our dishes seem to be breaking. We've lost 2 bowls and 3 plates in the last few months. I have to admit that my Emile Henri plates and bowls have lived a good long life. I got them over 20 years ago and they do not owe me a thing! What we have now are a mix of various dishes in blue, green and hand me downs. I am going to start picking up white pieces when I see them and one day my dining table and cupboards might look like this!

 
via 50's Housewife

 
via loving.living.small

 
via faded prairie

 
via barn house

What do you think? White? Or not?

Are you house proud?

I have been thinking about this a lot lately. As I have packed box after box after seemingly never ending box, I have thought about each item. Why do we own it? What does it say about me? Is it something to keep or let go?

 
Do you ever ask yourself these questions? Do you ever feel like your life is being consumed by stuff? Lately I do. There are just so many things that we use on a daily basis but, more than that, so much stuff for my art and sewing. These are the hardest things for me to part with. As an artist, I never know when I will have an idea for something and want to pull out (insert essential item here) and create. How can I plan for creativity that hasn’t happened yet?

I have come to the conclusion that in the past few years I have cared less and less about taking care of our house and making it a place of comfort and relaxation. It has become just a stopping place not a resting place. I have been feeling a disconnect within my family lately. Like we are not together as a family but, rather, are just three people sharing one space. I am sure that part of it is due to our house being filled with boxes, my good egg spending every possible minute with friends rather than her parents (can’t really blame her – she is only 15!), my irritability with summer (I am so ready to be back into the routine of the school year) and the crow’s terrifically long hours at work these past 2 months. We simply aren’t spending enough (or any some days) time together.

I want this to change in the new house. I want to get back to the days when I was able to invite people over and feel proud about my home. I have become a decorating blog/website junkie lately. I keep seeing great ideas and bookmarking them. I am getting an image in my mind of how I want the new house to look but, more than that, how I want it to feel. I know that I can't make a lot of changes as we are renting but I know I want it to feel the way I feel when I look at pictures like this:

 

 via the fisherman's cottage

 
via the creek line house

 

via shabby addict who got it via hiya papaya

 
via cottage and home decorating

 
via cottage and home decorating

 
via my house of giggles

I know that I can make this happen. And, in doing so, I know that the way our family lives together will change. The biggest change will be around dinnertime. Finally, after so many years we will have a space for a dining table and will be able to eat dinner together each night. I think that I am looking forward to this most of all. And I am thinking of splurging on some of these to make it just that much more special.

 
via cottage and vine's etsy shop

 

thinking about....writing

 
 
 

Losing Momentum.......Then Finding It Again

 
I am now 12 days into packing up for our move. As with all new projects, I jumped into the packing with verve and gusto. Then around day 10 I looked around and saw that I was surrounded by a mountain of boxes. Lots and lots of boxes. And beyond that more things to sort and pack. It seemed to be a never ending task. I felt tired, exhausted, overwhelmed. And I realized that I had come down with a virus. I had all the symptoms. Reading instead of packing. Sleeping instead of packing. Eating instead of packing. Doing anything instead of packing. I had become a victim of packing ennui.

Have you ever experienced it? It isn't specific to packing. It can attach itself to any activity - like a parasite. And it just sucks all the joy out of doing the activity. It might come when you are quilting or painting or (insert your activity here). It is what hits you when you find yourself doing any other activities you can think of BUT the one that usually brings you joy and pleasure. You have lost your drive, your passion, your enthusiasm, your heart for the activity.

It may sound crazy to hear that moving brings me joy and pleasure but it really does. I love the searching. I love the planning. I love the settling in to the new house. I love making my things work in new and different spaces. I am very excited about this move. I can hardly wait to live in the neighbourhood we are moving to. We lived there 15 years ago when our daughter was born. It is a neighbourhood where you can walk to the store, green grocer, pharmacy, etc in minutes. There are restaurants and coffee shops galore. A person could easily live in the neighbourhood car free and never lack for anything.

So, I let myself have a couple of days to get over the virus. I read. I slept. I ate way too much candy. I drove my husband crazy with my bad moods. I made myself do something the complete opposite of packing. I pulled OUT my school books and did some planning for the new school year. I created worksheets. I read a bunch of different blogs. I got excited about going back to work in September. My fire started to spark again. Once I felt that little spark I forced myself to pack a box. Just one. Lit-- tle--ba--by steps. And you know what? After that, I packed another box and another. And, voila!, my packing ennui is gone.

So, once again, I can say (with a smile on my face no less!) that:

 

thinking about....

being a teenager in today's society and how glad I am that it was not like it is now when I was young. I watch my daughter going through her teen years and my heart hurts for her. There are pressures and expectations far above what I ever had. My dearest wish is to see her through these years happy and healthy and whole. Some days that seems an impossibility but I hold on to my faith that it will all work out in the end. Pink says it so much better than I ever could. Though she could have called it Conversations with my 13, 14, 15...you get the picture. Have a listen...

    

thinking about...

 
making your own bed and then having to lie in it...