{the story of home}
One of my biggest fears is being without friends. I'm not talking about the pick-up-sticks kind. The ones you see, I'll southernly call it, ever-so-often. The kind you run into at the store with a "Hey" & "How's your Mom & them?" I'm speaking of the ones deemed just for your heart keeping. I believe that God does this sort of thing. This divine hand appointment of you-go-with-you. I tend to think He is most beautifully at work in the finer things in life. Friendship just so happens to be one of them.
I am kind of a loner though. Hence, my fear. I let schedules and things like excess workloads get in the way of my social-ness. I opt out of public gatherings & fellowshipping more than I care to own. It's best if I am honest here. So truth I will speak. I love connections and then shy away from them in some sort of inhale-exhale deflation. Oxymoron, anyone?
Now don't get me wrong. I am a very friendly. Not really aware of personal space, so watch out. If I like your lipstick color, you can go on ahead and anticipate me oh about 1.5 inches away from your lips staring at them. I love to laugh. Be crazy silly. But I can't run full throttle on just those high sensory actions for the best breathes of me. I'd say we all can't survive on the superficial. It's a necessary though. Those run-ins in the grocery store and the impromptu dancing sessions at Bunco. They need to happen. Those pinging connections remind of us human. They serve as subtle boosts of "Yep, we are all kinda in this life thing together."
But we all need our people. The ones we run to when times are scary. The ones who know how many times we have failed. The stupid of our past & the quirkiness of our steps. And how do you know they're you're people? They wanna read more of your story. Yes, I don't want to be without those.
This week I am taking on best. I am looking at how it makes us feel and how it moves us & others for more. I am exercising one more step in my fight against perfection. I introduced this #bestoverbusy theme yesterday here. Just reading me this week? No sweat. Get caught up and scoot your cuteness back here so we're real close-like. Remember I have no personal space boundaries. I can only work on one weakness at a time. I'm starting with perfection. Appropriate personal space boundaries is a little further on down my list. I'll get there. Patience, people.
The above quote is from my best friend. She spoke these words to me about 4 years ago. We were on the topic of home decor. These words were like a light beam of freedom & raise-the-roof clarity for me with regards to the who I want to be. Furthermore, for the steps I effort in my home as a care-taker, wife, mama, business owner, writer and lover of all things creative.
I have always struggled with what was worthy of my/our space. Being on a consta-tight-budget, those glossy magazine covers of home are like Lucifer with a pitch fork standing in my living room. I get the shakes just gazing at all things design/decor & there he stands slobber-dripping on my area rug surrounded by nothingness growling,"You can't afford it. You can't have it. Nah-nah-na-na-nah."
Angie's words brought me to a place where magazine covers and Pinterest pins died a spectacular death. And the story of my family best represented began. My budget was no longer viewed as a curse, but more as blessing. The art of story telling was more important than the hustle of filling a space. I lived with empty and began to see the beauty of time and the journey to penning our pages with us.
Before moving into our new home, I began with creating a color palette out of paint swatches. The only rule I gave myself was "these colors need to reflect our family". I thought about everyone's favorite hues. I considered dirt as we are 75% male in our family of 4. I took into account our personalities. We are a healthy mix of scattered & organized. We love to read. 2 of us love to dance. We have a heart for the sentimental. I did not worry if the colors chosen were uncomplimentary to one another. I focused on a streamlined collection that completed our family unit. That's it.
Angie made her way to me this weekend. I had not seen her and her official wedding band since May 17, 2014 when she became Mrs. Angela Burke. You remember her wedding shower, don't you? With a new name, that girl came to play with me for 2 whole days. EEK! I mentioned yesterday that with good friends if doesn't matter how much time has passed between visits, you just seem to pick up as if you never left one another's side. This would be me and my Angie.
We did some Goodwill hunting. Ate our weight in Gobstoppers & Starbursts. And went junking too. Each time we shop together, we go with the intention of finding nothing. With the hope of the hunt. With the idea that what is meant to be ours will find us. This mantra is the golden rule of rummaging.
I had been looking for a statement piece for about 2 years now to hang in my living room over our couch. Something that held story. An item with character and detail.
You know that show American Pickers on the History Channel? Well, that was us this weekend. We bartered. Finagled pricing. Dug. We became good friends with Michelle, the official price mediator between owner & buyer. One solid hour of scouring and behold, it was found. After 2 years of waiting, my statement piece had been procured on a strict budget to boot.
Meet Michelle.Hey, girl! We kinda wanted her to climb in the car with us when we left. She was super kind and so much fun to deal with. She even helped us load my car!
Here we are. Sweating & grimy from the hunt through junk. What you see here is a one holy cow heavy antique gas station letter print & 3 solid wooden panels.
Home we went. Piled-on-the-couch tired, we almost did not bring this project to fruition. But with some sweet laughter caused by reminiscing over old times, we found ourselves up & attem. It is now that I want to be clear here speaking of this one above.She is a forever reader of my story. It's as if she has part ownership in my quirkiness almost. Her soul has doctored me through my failed attempts at life. She knows my heart. Her place in my life brings me to my best. Just look at her up there measuring and working all for me. The memory captured in my forever book from this project is just one more I cannot imagine living without.
The story of home.My family's. It begins with pieces that have meaning. I want little to nothing surrounding the most precious people in my life other than physical representations of us. The "C" is for our last name. The old antiqued Chevy hub caps were found with Angie once again at the World's Longest Yard Sale back when I lived in Chattanooga. I used one of the panels to nail the hub caps to for multi-textured look that brought 3-dimensional feel to the wall. {the other 2 panels will find their home in the master bath} The vertical placement of the rectangular pieces carries one's eyes upward accentuating the high ceilings in this room. Throw pillows in some of my favorite prints a-la-k.Mac.
"C" given to me by another keeper & forever reader of my story, Kristen, as wedding shower thank you. Love birds purchased on this trip with Kenny. These remind me of us. Books were from Angie's ancestors. She gifted them to be back in 1999 for Christmas.
Antique desk was bought by my Mom for my dorm room my sophomore year of college. She found it for $20 at a Maryville junk store. I decided to create a collage of the boys' newborn black & white photographs. I was sure to pencil on the back of each photo which baby was which. I even labeled those tiny squishy feetsies!
Antique washstand from the Sweetwater Flea Market. I bought it my first year of teaching in 1998. Japanese pitcher was brought back from Japan by my Dad-daddy from his time there in the service. Rosemary candle & Nantuckett pillow design a-la-k.Mac.Mirror.Everybody drool. I did for the ENTIRE 9 years I stared at it at my mother-in-law's house. She gifted it to me when we moved into our new home. Did I kiss her on the mouth? Um, maybe.
House painting of our home in Hixson: made by my boys when they were 5 & 3 years old. Pencil sketch of the boys across the foyer in the inset hallway was hand drawn by a friend of our's adopted daughter. Faney was originally an orphan in Honduras. She was brought to the United States in 3rd grade. She has never had any formal drawing classes. She drew this sketch of the boys from a photograph I gave her when she was 18. I gifted Kenny this for his Father's Day the year we moved into this home. Record player underneath: Kenny's Mamaw Cobble's. Stain glassed pumpkin sitting atop: bought at a local craft fair with my mother-in-law the day my nephew, Colton, was born. Beside the pumpkin sits a metal plate with Casey's rock collection. The metal plate was Kenny's Dad's pretend steering wheel when he was a little boy.
High backed gray chair was my birthday gift from Kenny this year bought from a local As Is store. Cades Cove Jeep Painting: Kenny's Mamaw Cobble painted it when Kenny was just a little boy. Filagree orange footstool was found at Ross by Eli. We bargained for a discount price as it had a few hiccups on the surface. BOOM: 40% off & ours foreva.Carousel ceramic glass artwork in the foyer: bought with my mother-in-law at a local craft fair we attend every year. The artist was actually one of Kenny's middle school coaches.
TV turnabout table: bought by me at a Maryville junk store for my very first home. Purple pottery bowl: handmade by the mother of another keeper & forever reader of my story, Amanda. Image of the boys' reading: captured on my iPhone & instagrammed. I liked it so much, I decided it deserved framing status.
2 tier antique table WITH scratches: bought by me for my first nightstand out of college in 1998. The scratches are from Eli racing his cars over it when he was a little boy. The marbles are the boys' collection. They love to rub them in their hands when they read or watch TV. Hand painted nest canvas: gifted to me by Angie for a wedding shower hostess thank you. The 2 eggs in the nest she custom designed to represent Eli & Casey. The Tom Clark Slam & Dunk gnomes were my Mom's.
Mustard lounge chair: bought by me & documented here. Footstool: Kenny's great-grandmother's. His Dad had it recovered for us. He made sure to recover it identical to its original vintage palette. Curtains: made by me.
Us.That's what fills this space. Pieces no where near perfect & anything but coordinating. But all ours. This collection of home comes from places & people we love. They remind us of who we are. They soothe us in rest and in the company we keep inside these 4 walls. Our story lives printed with the beauty of time and the journey to filling our pages.
To read more of my #bestoverbusy series, visit here.
