Indoor/Outdoor

One last blast of winter outside...

One more cozy Saturday inside:

Here's to a beautiful weekend!

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What's In Your Medicine Cabinet?

I think what makes a house a home is the people who find shelter under its roof. Even if just for a quick cup of tea. People aren't really coming over to see what color you've painted your walls or what you keep in your medicine cabinet. (OK. Well. A nosy few are coming over to see what's in your medicine cabinet. It's just one of those things we have to accept in this life, right?)

When I was newly married I read a book by Karen Burton Mains called Open Heart, Open Home. It's a great, classic (and by that I mean old-fashioned), homemakers' book, and the subtitle says it all: The Hospitable Way to Make Others Feel Welcome and Wanted. What people really want is to make memories in your presence while they're in your space. It took me awhile to figure this out but once I got it, I started to see my home in a whole different light. I stopped thinking that my house just wasn't good enough. When would it ever be good enough? And what's good enough, anyway?

Lest you think I'm completely deluded, I recognize that there are some basic essentials that contribute to making someone feel welcome and wanted in our space. We can't just let our homes fend for themselves and expect others to want to hang out there. But we don't need designer drapes, custom designed furniture and lavish gourmet dinners in order to invite people in. I think most people who just "drop by" are satisfied with a shiny toilet, a drink of water or tea from a clean glass or cup, and a spot at a kitchen table that's had the morning Cheerios and sticky pancake syrup wiped away. If you're waiting for your house to be good enough before you invite your neighbors over for dinner, stop waiting. It's not the house that matters. It's the home, and the people who live there. And that is more than good enough.

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A Beautiful Life

Today I've linked my Unplugged post to The Inspired Room as part of Melissa's celebration of
A Beautiful Life. You should head on over there to get some great ideas about how to make living more beautiful.

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10 Minutes

Being away at Glen and BJ's "cabin" the other day inspired me to do a little fixing up of my own humble abode. To spur me along, The Nester has done a series of posts designed to help average people like me make our homes more beautiful, using what's already stashed around the house, and taking only ten minutes per room.

I knew which area of my house I wanted to tackle first but...lookie there...I needed to work around a light switch, a thermostat and a humidifier thingy.
All on one wall!

Here's a closer look at the orbs in the bowl. I love that bowl, but I had forgotten all about it! It was in that silly little cabinet above my refrigerator where things go to disappear.
Because really...who can reach up there?
The orbs were on my built-ins in my living room, hidden behind a plant that H takes care of.

Here's the tablescape (that's what The Nester calls it) from a different angle. It's one of the first things that I see when I come in from the garage each evening.

I hung this painting on the wall. It's one by Ruth Russell Williams, a folk artist from rural North Carolina. I've always loved her work.
This one reminds me of summer vacation in the country at my Grandmother's house.
Simple times. Simple pleasures.

That's it! Nothing fancy, to be sure. But I think I made it work. Let me just tell you...it's a whole lot more appealing than the pile of stuff that I moved off that dresser.
{Just be thankful that I spared you any "before" photos.}

One day I just might paint that dresser white...

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Unplugged

Today I'm linking this post to The Inspired Room where we're celebrating A Beautiful Life. I know that fabric and paint and window treatments and artwork and tablescapes are some of the creative ways we can create A Beautiful Life in our home. But never underestimate the power of feeding your soul. When my soul is well nourished, I am so much more fun to be around! So here's to A Beautiful Life, fed by a well-nourished soul!

I spent most of yesterday in completely spectacular silence.

I'm a fan of silence. Always have been. I don't listen to the radio when I drive. I don't watch TV in bed. I don't own an iPod. Even with all of that though, there's still a lot of noise in my world. As a teenager, everyday after school I would quarantine myself in my room. I wasn't doing anything in there...really. I just needed silence. It was like my filling station. And even now I need those moments, hours, even days of silence.
And yesterday, I got it, thanks to our friends Glen and BJ.

Glen and BJ own what they call a "cabin" on a lake about one hour north of my house. It is beautiful! BJ is my personal Martha Stewart, and this lakefront "cabin" always feels like a plush retreat house. She hasn't spent tons of cash, but she has put her heart and soul into every corner of that home.

We (Santana was with me) were blessed with a beautiful day in front of the picture window, watching bluebirds and woodpeckers fly in and out of the evergreen trees.

I read my book. I baked a chicken for dinner. I took a nap. I sat quietly and listened to nothing. I walked outside and breathed deeply of the cool winter air. I think Spring is just around the corner.

Thank you Glen and BJ! Yesterday cleared my head and revived my soul. Today I am a better wife, a better mother, a better employee, and a better friend.

How about you? What revives your soul?

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Happy Valentine's Day!

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Why I Call It That

I call this place where I live The Middle of Nowhere. It was never on my radar screen. I had only visited it twice. Once on my way to Colorado for the greatest family vacation ever, in the back seat of my parents' car. And then again on our way back home to Michigan at the end of the greatest family vacation ever. When H said that he thought we might be moving here, I had to look it up on the map. That's just how unfamiliar it was to me. I placed my finger on the Star City right there on that page of our atlas and wondered aloud if there was anything there but cows and corn. Not long after that, I was swept up in a whirlwind of interviews and hotel rooms and late night conversations with H about moving to this place that was hot and windy and dusty and full of sky and grain and absolutely divine sunsets. When it was decided through a series of elaborate events that we would move, I sat on the deck of my old house and cried.

That was just over three years ago. When I finally packed up my little car to head west with our two kids and anything else that would fit, Katrina was brewing in the gulf down south. We left behind amazing friends, an awesome church, and a wonderful support system of people who loved and nurtured our children. I cried inside for most of our two-day drive west on I-80.

When we arrived I could find nowhere familiar. Nowhere comfortable. Nowhere like home. I literally felt like I was smack dab in the middle of nowhere. And that's not a commentary on the place where I live. It's more about how I feel here in this place that I live. Over time I've fallen in love with pockets of this place. And to be sure, living here has made me a better person. If we were to ever leave this place, I would sit on my patio and cry, thinking about the people and places here that I'd miss...people and places that have changed me forever. But it takes time to grow roots in a place, and without roots, a good stiff wind can throw off your footing. And the wind blows a lot in this place where I live.

There's more here than cows and corn. There are people here who are tough as nails and filled to the brim with the pioneer spirit. I know a single young woman who teaches science to high school students. She chops her own wood to heat her home, cans her own home-grown vegetables, plays piano faithfully in her church, and wears a mean stiletto. I know Keren refugees from Burma who risked their lives to be able to raise their children in America. They walk through the snow to get to work...on time. They study English and worship together, praying to one day be reunited with spouses or children or parents they left behind. I get to hang out with a groovy (yes, groovy) group of women who play a mean Guitar Hero and make me laugh 'til I wonder if I need to wear Depends. And I adore a sweet young woman with three small children and a husband who makes amazing things with his hands. They do the day-to-day thing of trying to stay married, pay the bills, and potty train the kids, while navigating all the ups and downs that go with that.

There is sweetness here in The Middle of Nowhere, but I can't quite call it home. Not yet. I need stronger and deeper roots. And a little more time before the wind blows again.

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Inspired

This guy makes me want to be a better me. Who inspires you?

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Stunning!

I don't subscribe to Vogue magazine, but I'll be first in line for a copy of their spring fashion issue, featuring Michelle Obama. OK. Maybe I'll buy three copies.

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Fun!

I could do this all day!

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Happy Weekend, All!

Source: The Hunger Site

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I Want To Go To There

Ever since Cliff and Claire Huxtable waltzed off the set of The Cosby Show (yes, I cried that night), I have been mourning the loss of Thursday night television. And then, along came Tina Fey and 30 Rock and now...Thursday nights are back, baby! I usually watch it at the gym, on the elliptical machine, along with a bunch of other sweaty 30 Rock fans. And we laugh out loud! Together. At the gym. Until our sides ache and we have to clutch the heart rate monitors on the machines to keep us from falling off. Ok. Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. But Thursday nights are back, baby!

How about you? Are you a 30 Rock fan? Do you remember Thursday nights with the Huxtables?

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Pimped Out Snuggies

Look out DIY-ers, and bling-loving bedazzlers!
The Snuggie movement has taken a dangerous new turn!

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Bubble Gum Economics

Here's something we never considered in all our years of living by a budget: a spending plan. How'd we ever miss that one? BSP (before The Snowball Project), we used to figure out when the money was coming in, and then figure out how much of that had to go back out. When we were finished with our calculations, H and I usually had a couple of nickels left between us. But we never could figure out where those two nickels went. Every month it seemed that those two nickels mysteriously disappeared, and H and I would sit there (each of us chewing our pieces of bubble gum that happened, coincidentally, to cost one nickel each), scratching our heads and wondering aloud, "Whatever happened to those two nickels?"

Now, however, The Snowball Project requires us to set a spending plan so that, when we're all done with those calculations at the beginning of the month, we know exactly where those two nickels will be going. Having a plan for those two nickels puts us back in the driver's seat, which is exactly where we like to be. We want to manage our money. We don't want it managing us.

Now, just in case you'll be following us as we muddle our way through The Snowball Project, here's an important bit of information. Remember when I said that H and I set aside four hours last Saturday to get our budget all set up? Ha! Four hours is so not enough time! Today is Wednesday, and we just finished setting it all up tonight. And in case you think it's just the fact that H and I are both into words more than math, let the record show that all of my friends who have started The Snowball Project have had the same experience. This project is more than a notion.

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It's All Relative

I used to complain about the icy, wintry roads here in The Middle of Nowhere, and then a friend sent me this photo, taken in Sweden. Sometimes a person just needs a bit of perspective, right?

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What He Said...

This is Bear Gryllis...that guy on Man Vs. Wild who eats snake eyes and skunk meat and teaches us how to survive in the most unthinkable places. My son Jordan thinks this guy is amazing...and he is. I was checking out Jordan's blog today, which directed me to Bear's blog where the snake eye skunk meat eating man writes:

My favourite quote is this: ‘Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving in an attractive well preserved body; rather to skid in sideways, body thoroughly worn out, covered in scars and screaming “yahoo! What a ride!”

This guy is amazing! What a way to start my Sunday morning! Thanks, Jordan. And thanks, Bear.

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