Star's Fault

... And Then My Life Passed Before My Eyes ~

Actually, I believe my last thought was..."I'm going to hit the fence." 

The next thing I remember was a big, strong hand in front of me and a soft, deep voice asking, "are you alright?"  Naturally, I said yes, but on my hands and knees, with pain surging through my body and my mind struggling to figure out just how I ended up on the ground, I was not really alright. 

I struggled to focus, but my wozzy brain just wouldn't cooperate, and for some strange reason I could not see very well.  I was, however, cogent enough to realize that the gentleman helping me to my feet was the handsome cowboy that had walked by earlier.  I do like cowboys, but I was not looking my best, you understand, as I was covered with dirt and slightly incoherent at the time.  Cars had stopped on the street, apparently witnessing my spectacular come apart from my horse.  

The term "come apart" is horse talk for "I was just tossed by my onery horse and got the stuffings knocked out of me."  It is generally not very pretty, and the last time I got dumped was in 1978, where, thanks to my 3-year old Arabian gelding, I acquired a concussion, lost four front teeth, broke three ribs and developed some amazingly colorful bruises. 

This time, I still had teeth, and so I smiled at the cowboy, thanked him and the rest of my audience for coming to my rescue, and attempted to walk over to my horse, who was, innocently enough, grazing by the arena gate like nothing had happened. 

With everyone gone and the dramatic moment over, I called Mr. Wonderful.  "Sweetie, I got thrown, can you come help me?"  Not exactly the words you want to hear from your "she's my all I've got" but there you have it.  True to form, his first question was "are you alright?" to which I gave my stock answer "yes."  After 42 years of togetherness, he should know by now that this is a bald faced lie.

When he arrived, he found me waundering at the north end of the arena looking for my glasses.  I'd finally figured out that my vision was fuzzy because I'd lost my specs in the wreck.  Being the sensible person he is, he asked where I hit the ground, and I pointed to the south end of the arena.  The bum had the nerve to tell me that if I hit the ground at the other end of the arena, it was likely that my glasses were there also.  It hurt too much to sass him back, so I meekly followed him to the south end of the arena, and sure enough, about 10 feet outside the fence were my glasses.  He was gonna pay for that comment, just as soon as I was well enough....

In the car, heading home I began to notice this alarmingly large swelling on my neck and at base of my skull.  "I think I hit the fence sweetie" I offered.  Now I should say this was no ordinary fence.  It had posts made of old wooden creosote telephone poles, each about 6ft high and 12" in diameter, with rails made from well casings, cast iron and about 4 inches in diameter.  This was a FENCE, and I'd apparently catapaulted off the saddle and hit the rails with my back and neck, falling to the ground AFTER being tossed into the fence.  Looking at the ginormous bruises in the mirror a few hours later was proof that this had been much more spectacular than I'd originally thought. 

No, I did not go to the emergency room... until a week later when I just could not breathe.  After a lecture from the treating ER doc, I discovered I'd gotten a concussion, at least two broken ribs and badly bruised back and pelvis.  No wonder I was hobbling around like an old woman. 

Then I got pneumonia.  And a NASTY sinus infection. And JUST as I was beginning to heal up from all this ... my horse plowed over me coming out of his stall one morning, all 1,100 lbs of him.  Laying there, in the dirt again, in abject pain, I wondered how I was going to alert Mr. Wonderful, who was in the house blissfully unaware that his wife had crashed and burned again, to please call 911?

This. Hurt. Really, Bad.  .. but as usual, I lay there until the pain passed, threw up, got up, and hobbled into the house to ask him to please finish feeding the horses, as I was sure I needed to sit down for a few minutes.  

Mr. Wonderful has been a little worried about me. 

I've been a little worried about me.  My horse wreck was only a few days after blogging "Truffles the Terrible", followed a month later by that bad bout with pneumonia and what turned out to be a really viscious sinus unfection, and finally in January the last horse crash.  From the beginning of October until only very recently I have become very good friends with my heating pad, and the recliner (because I can't yet sleep flat), and any number of ER and Urgent care doctors, not to mention my family doctor who just shakes his head at me.  I barely managed to hobble dutifully to work each day, only to sit in my fancy ergonomic chair with the heating pad bungeed to the back rest.  Just barely enough energy to work, feed horses and fall into fitfull sleep, it's been a rough winter for me.  I hardly remember the holidays.

And I'm still pretty sore and wobbly.  I did a ton of knitting during this time, including this lovely scarf, which I made out of organic cotton, so soft and comforting to knit with.  I crafted a pair of fingerless gloves to match the scarf.  They were auctioned off for a United Way fundraiser, going to a lovely lady who spent a generous $200+ on them.  Knitting seemed to be about all I could do, that and play with my iPad.  Sleepless nights are the best for Etsy shopping and Mr. Wonderful began to fuss at me every time he checked the mail and came in with another handful of packages.  Binx, her sweet, sad eyes watching my every move, has been my closest companion when I'm sleeping on the recliner, purring her love and healing comfort during those exhausting nights when the pain just wouldn't go away. 

I am so, so sorry that I did not blog during this time, and I am humbled by the worried, kind emails I have received from you all.  I did take a few photos now and then, intending to blog, but then could not get up the stairs to my studio, edit photos and sit at a computer.  I just wanted my heating pad and a blanket, a cup of tea and my kitty, and quietly let my poor body heal.  I can't remember ever being so sick, or so very sore. 

I am better now though, and still here Dear Ones.  During this time I have been able to, from my vantage position in the recliner, direct several rennovations on the farmhouse, and the new granite kitchen countertops and chandeliers are especially gorgeous. 

I can't wait to show you the new lovliness.

 

Eileen

Truffles the Terrible ~

I thought it might be  the perfect time for an update on the wild BOY kitty.  It is entirely possible that this popped into my brain as blog-worthy because he has decided to come up while I am working at my desk and sprawl his huge furry form right across my lap. My WHOLE lap, and over my knees, his long legs draped down either side of me ....  I mean, he doesn't near fit on my lap, he's so impossibly big.  I can't do anything with his heavy weight on me, not to mention that he wants his head scratched pretty much the whole time he's up here, AND he won't let you forget it because if you dare stop, he will head butt you back into kitty scratching mode. 

He doesn't fit into any of the kitty beds either because he is one loooonnnng kitty boy, and he isn't much for the curling up kind of kitty sleeping, preferring instead to slop his full length across whatever surface he figures needs a handsome kitty decoration.  It always makes me laugh when I pick him up, as he's pretty much this totally relaxed dead weight and sort of hangs there in my arms, or drapes over my shoulder and down my back like a big, soggy, fur stole.  I have to admit though, he seems a stunningly beautiful Maine Coon kitty work of art, but then, I 'm not exactly an impartial observer.

Since he's really still a baby (oof) and already at 20 lbs, I am pretty sure that he'll get bigger once his muscles are more fully developed (4-6 more pounds, MC's mature slowly), and with winter coming on, his coat will grow much more dense and considerably longer.  Oh dear, I'd better stock up on those sticky lint brushes...

Cascade Mountain Truffe du Chocolate... I love you my sweet boy kitty, but will you please stop bedeviling your Aunties Kona, Bitty and dear elderly Binx?

... eileen
 

 

Farmgirl Sweet Pickles ~

Living in a farmhouse is magical, and I dare say, transformational.  I mean really, I made pickles this last week.  I haven't made pickles for, oh, just YEARS, and yet here they are, inspired by something so innocent as a dinner inviation from the kindest of neighbors. 

Vance and Joan live in a lovely little ranch house on 10 beautiful acres just next door.  That very first morning in our new home, Mr. Wonderful and I were happily padding about in jammies, he frying up bacon in the old cast iron skillet, and me whisking eggs and cheese to be scrambled.  We were pretty surprised to hear our doorbell ring, and yet, jammies and all, I answered it to find two smiling faces bearing a fresh loaf of the most heavely banana bread.  I don't think breakfast had ever tasted so good as that morning, the early sun was streaming into our home, I had poured fresh orange juice into vintage glasses, and Mr. Wonderful heaped eggs and crispy bacon onto china plates for each of us, fresh espresso, and a thick slice of banana bread slathered in real butter to top it off.  Heaven. 

So, when Joan's dinner invitation came a few weeks later, I wanted to return the kindness with an offering of my own, but what?  hmmm... 

Several weeks ago a lovely friend had brought over her own housewarming gift, a bouquet of wildflowers and a box of fresh homegrown vegetables, peas, tomatoes, sweet carrots, fingerling potatoes, and cucumbers, bumply, lovely cucumbers. I could make pickles.  I had an onion, and some shallots, and a lovely red pepper, and... oh dear, WHERE did I unpack the dill and pickling spices.. and the vinegar, did I have cider vinegar???

Having found all the supplies I thought I would need, I dug out my favorite yelloware bowl, tied on a bright, vintage apron, found a big wooden spork, and the giant cutting board, and began slicing to my heart's content - 4 big cucumbers, one fat red pepper, 8 shallots, 4 slices of a sweet onion, and two long italian hot peppers from the deli counter.  Everything into the bowl... topped off with one cup of white sugar, two tablespoons of dill and two tablespoons of pickling spice.

Oh my, cloves, cinnamon, bay, allspice, foenugreek (yes, that's how it is spelled, and I have no idea what it is), mustard seed, ginger, black pepper, cassia (Chinese cinnamon) and celery seed. It smelled so good, and when I stirred it all together the rich aroma rising from the bowl just filled the room. 

Now add two cups of either white or cider vinegar.  I like cider vinegar, I think it is milder and has a richer flavor than white, and I just so happened to have exactly two cups.  

... and then it hit me.  The only thing missing was a nice glass of wine, and since I had a Twilight series movie playing in the background, I thought this vintage with its rather vampire-ish, gothic label might be just right.  (sip) Yes, that will do very well, thank you. 

Can you smell this?  Not the wine silly, but the sugar, vinegar and heavenly spices?  In a few hours the veggies will "wilt" and soften in the broth, and they will be ready to eat, but you can keep them in the refrigerator for several weeks... if they last that long!

Okay, now back to the pantry I went.... I know I have some nice canning jars in here someplace ... now where were they?  Oh yes, this one will be perfect. 

I confess, my Grandmother would have placed each pickle carefully into the jar, layering them just so, until there were as many pickles neatly packed into the container as it could hold... but I just piled them haphazardly, thinking more about getting a bit of each colorful veggie into the mix, topping it off with that nice big sweet/hot italian pepper and some extra broth.

A strip of calico fabric, a twig of silk flower, a colorful cotton dishcloth I'd knit up during one of my long work trips to the lower 48 states, and oh, I do hope Joan loves this. 

Later, after a lovely dinner of pot roast, potatoes, roasted carrots, and apple cake with our newest friends, I sat out on the back deck, the evening sun still shining in the 22 hours of daylight that is the Alaska's summer, and cut up the last of the veggies and put them into the left over broth. 

Truffles, our 20 lb Maine Coon kitten (he's only 10 months old) decided what I was doing was more interesting than chasing the bugs in the yard, and hopped up beside me to inspect. 

... and finding nothing to his liking, scampered off to bother one of the girl kitties. 

Blessings to you all Dear Ones ~

 

....eileen 

 

About the Dream ~

When I was a little girl my first memory of horses was that of watching two horses and their riders walking through a field next to my home.  I do not remember many details about the horses or their riders, but I remember the smell of the warm beast, a velvet nose, his breath on my hand, big gentle eyes.  I remember how much I wanted to climb up on his beautiful back and ride away. 

I think right then and there I promised myself that one day I would have a horse.  And so I have, five all total at various times in my life, all very dear, all gone now except my Johnnie.  We'd always stabled them at public or private facilities, but there's never been a barn, a real barn, and a pasture, at my own home.  Until now.

That sweet dream gets closer each day, all thanks to my Mr. Wonderful. 

Each weekend in our new home we've been busy dawn to dusk with outdoor projects.  Given we have 18+ hours of daylight, that's saying something.  Of course, all our projects are for our dear critters - never mind the inside honey-dos - our four-legged family is much more important.  Mr. Wonderful started out by fencing in the back yard, a lovely space so that the kitties could play outside and be safe from foxes.  After that, the long hoped for barn.

I think... maybe, two more weeks and I can bring my Johnnie home for good.  Home to his own big box stall, knee deep in sweet smelling sawdust, a warm mash in his corner feeder and fresh timothy hay in the manger.  This vision is peace to me, soul soothing and dear.  

I can't wait.   

...eileen

A Million Things ~

.. or more to tell you Dear Ones.  In the weeks and weeks since I last posted so many amazing things have happened. 

1. Fireweed Farmhouse became all ours, and for a while we were the proud owners of two mortgages. 
2. We began packing, and packing, and packing.  I've never been so exhausted in my life. 
   Note to self:  I am way too old for this.
3. We put in new granite counter tops and limestone tile back splash in our "old" home. After ten years of Mr. Wonderful promising we'd get granite "soon", it finally arrived - only to belong to someone else in 30 days.  It looked more beautiful than I ever imagined.
4. This excitement was closely followed by staging our Anchorage home to sell.  The primping nearly drove Mr. Wonderful nuts.  He was more than happy when the real estate agents began lining up to get their clients in to view the home.   
5. A lovely family from San Diego bought our home in Anchorage.  Two days on the market and it was gone.  Just. Like. That. 
6. THANK you Lord.
7. We packed some more... and hired movers to haul out the big stuff and all the furniture. 
8. Mr. Wonderful and I wondered if our bodies would hold up through it all. 
9. We moved in to our new home in Wasilla, Alaska on June 10th ~ two days after our 37th wedding anniversary.  I think we ate take out (again) and fell, exhausted, into bed early.  Not particularly romantic, but we were so happy to be home.
10. We began unpacking.  Oy vey.  Boxes and more boxes.  I never want to see another moving box in my entire life. 
11. We cleaned and cleaned the Anchorage home so that it was all ready for its new family. 
12. We signed more paperwork.  Down to one mortgage (major sigh of relief).

Today, we are settled in and fairly well nested.  Everything is unpacked EXCEPT for my studio, which, I am ashamed to say, had more boxes of stuff than any other room in the home.  So much so that Mr. Wonderful would ask, incredulously, "how much more stuff do you have in there?"

How does one answer that?

I  have opened box #4 out of about 30 big packing boxes that came out of the art nest, and unpacking these is competing with other priorities like fencing in the back yard for the kitties, building the new barn for my dearest Johnnie horse, or hanging curtains everywhere (the prior owner only had blinds, ugh), or changing out the lighting in the great room (think Brady Bunch) and painting everything (the wall color here is FLAT green/gray or flat light green/gray - WHAT were they thinking?), and... best of all, waiting for the new granite counter tops to arrive in my new home, becasue the old ones here were... are you ready?  MAUVE Corian.  Mauve and gray green walls.  Oh DEAR.   

Yes, I whined.

Despite all that, we are totally in love with our new home.  Our little acres are part of what was once an old dairy farm, and the huge grain silo is about a block away, reminding me that I am now, really, a country girl.  There are horses everywhere here, and so many places to ride John.  It is so quiet and restful, and peaceful away from town.

I have a pasture.  I've always wanted a pasture, and a horse trailer, and a barn, ever since I was a little girl.

Lord, I have a pasture.

Eileen

Barely Spring at the Farmhouse ~

It is barely Spring here in Alaska. No green, although if you look closely at the trees you can see the beginnings of buds, tiny, perfect little signs of life.  Everything is brown and gray, including the paint scheme of my new home.

This dear place is Fireweed Farmhouse, although Mr. Wonderful says I must not call it that.  Too girly of a name possibly, and so I thought Northwind Farms might do also, but no, it's hard to call 2.2 acres of heaven a farm, especially when the covenants of the area only allow horses and chickens as livestock.

So Fireweed Farmhouse it has become in my mind, largely due to it's summer photos, taken from across the drive where the fireweed grows in abundance, an incredible field of tall stalks laden with hot pink and magenta blossoms.  One could not ask for a better start to the landscape design, although Mr. Wonderful will have the rest of it looking like a vision from a garden design book in no time.

Needs more trees and shrubs, says I.

I think the new barn and paddock will add to the lovliness of it all, and surely having a horse welcoming you as you come up the drive is the best landscaping one could ever hope for.  Johnnie is a fine greeter, and absolutely irresistible. 

He nickers his welcome every time.

We move in June 11th, three days after our 37th wedding anniversary.  No better way to celebrate than to find the little home in the country we've always wanted, perfect for empty nesters who deeply desire to get out of the 'burbs, but still have to work in the city.

Not that our present home isn't just the lovliest thing ever, but our Sam is all grown up and moved out, and so proximity to schools and his world isn't needed anymore.  I will miss all the custom details we built in to our dear craftsman, all the love and care that went in to this present home, incredible lighting and chandeliers, beautiful yard and landscaping, and just years of TLC.   

We've happily traded it for 2.2 acres and a 3,000 sq. ft. "new" ranch home in the "valley" as we call it here, which means somewhere in the neighborhood of Wasilla and Palmer, Alaska.  A 45 minute commute rather than a 15 minute drive to work, but I'm not sure I care. 

Because at the end of that drive is the most peaceful place we've been to in years.  Mr. Wonderful and I have exhausted ourselves looking at homes for months, horse property mostly, so we could bring Johnnie home with us and out of the private stables he's in now.  We loved this new home from the outside, but when we walked in the door both of us gasped. 

We knew this was it.   

Sophie, the present owner's dog, barked her greeting and escorted us inside. 

You can see why our reaction was immediate.  We were greeted by this incredible great room space, a giant stone fireplace, glossy hardwood floors, light streaming in everywhere.  I choked back tears of thankfulness and joy because I knew, I knew, that this would be our home. 

And a week later it was. 

These photos from the loft show just how special the space is.  Open, beautiful, hardwood floors just everywhere.  The perfect canvas for my own oriental rugs, favorite furniture and pretty things. I love the seating arrangement, central conversation grouping, with intimate seating areas off to each side. 

No, the baby grand piano is not staying. 

The dining "room" in a great room is really just a dining area, and our big, extra long weathered oak farmhouse table will fit in this space perfectly. The walls read a dark green in these photos, but really they're a rich gray. My favorite color.

Still, there's a new paint scheme in my brain, softer gray walls and grey-taupe ceilings.  Calmer I think, less contrast. Mr. Wonderful says no, not until winter, but we'll see.......

I apologize for the poor photo, it really doesn't do the kitchen justice.  Lovely solid wood cabinets with many of the cupboards sporting inserts of rainy glass.  Perfectly vintage, and I can already see the best of my McCoy collection in the cabinet at the front of the kitchen. 

Of course, Mr. Wonderful, who is also kind enough to serve as my personal chef, is slobbering all over the thought of cooking on this range.  He knows the specs and features of it far better than I do, as mostly I am just happy there a REAL range hood with no built-in microwave attached to it. 

The railing above the stove hints at my favorite place in the house.  

The kitchen "island" is really this incredible corner unit, counter space for bread making, eating/seating bar on the outside counter to the right, deep storage drawers for kitchen goodies everywhere.  I am certain that my own cooking and eating housewares will only fill up about 30% of the drawers, cupboards and other kitchen storage we'll have.

Above the kitchen is MY favorite feature of the home.  The loft.  I am certain you lovely ladies will be right there with me too.  This is mom territory, the future home of the art nest, and with enough square footage for a small classroom space to invite family and girlfriends to create with me. 

It's about 20 x 20, with deep storage behind closet doors to the left, sloping walls to the right, perfect for a wall-to-wall countertop and work surface.  I think I can hide all my supplies in the closets, leaving the room itself for seating, lounging and creative space. 

On the first floor are both the bedrooms, a spacious guest bedroom with a huge walk-in closet and generous private bath.  I am working hard on talking my younger sister to come up in June to help me nest and decorate this space - her room essentially, and I think she'll love it.

the master bedroom is off the main living space, french doors leading into a calm quiet suite. The present owner said the bedroom is perfect for entertaining, and when I looked puzzled, she explained that guests can come into the home and drop their coats on the bed. 

Okay, I get it.  So when the 40 or so Terwilligers come for Christmas, we can dog pile their coats here.  Of course, there will be kids hiding amongst the coats, because really, a pile of coats will be just too irresistible for the babies. 

Painted a soft gray this space absolutely invites you in.  Mr. Wonderful has offered to retro fit a gas fireplace in at some later time.  Perhaps before winter sweetie?  Please?

Can't you just envision two overstuffed chairs, evening tea, and a cozy fire in here?

The hall to the right of the bed wall leads to one of the most generous walk-in closets I've ever seen and a very nice master bath....

... with a steam shower.

And yes, I will be changing out everything in the house that has yellow brass, in favor of either satin finish nickel or oiled bronze.  ANYTHING but builder's grade brass.  Blech.  Maybe I'll spray or faux paint them a bronze color.

Although the lighting is super in here.  I can see all my wrinkles!

 

.. and that's the tour. 

Our present home looks like its been turned upside down, boxes everywhere, and our first showing is this next weekend.  We have much to do to stage our home for prospective buyers, but somehow it will all come together. 

Some lucky family will fall in love with our beautiful craftsman home and their dream will come true also.  I can't wait.  Blessings ~

 

I Think We'll Call it "Fireweed Farmhouse" ~

Mr. Wonderful says no, this won't do, but for some reason, the name keeps sticking in my brain.  This is likely because in the photos we do have of our new home, the outdoor shots include a glorious hot pink field of fireweed in the foreground of each shot.

Of course, with our Alaskan larger-than-life mountains in the background. 

Fireweed Farmhouse, the realization of a life-long dream to have horse property and a country home.  Our move in date is the second week of June, the same week Mr. Wonderful and I will celebrate out 37th wedding anniversary - 41 years together in all.  Seems completely fitting.  In the days since I last blogged we have made our offer on this most lovilest of homes, with horse property and acres of peace and rest to come home to each evening.  We have put our present home up for sale, and so there is delicious chaos everywhere I look as I pack and stage each room. 

Care to come along with me?  Mr. Wonderful and I drive out to take photos this Saturday, and so I'll post them as quick as a blink, and as I stage the "old" home for buyers, I'll share the ride with you also, because really, I need your advice Dear Ones. 

Blessings ~  

Think. Believe, Dream, Dare ~

I have this wonderful book that I refer to often, it's quotes so inspire and encourage me.  So today I opened the dear little volume and at the random page before me, I read these words:

• Remember the credo of Walt Disney: Think, Believe, Dream, Dare.
• Remember that nothing important was ever achieved without someone's taking a chance.
• Remember that nobody who ever gave his best regretted it.  George Halas.

Mr. Wonderful and I are looking at a new home tonight.  Two acres, a four stall barn with large paddock, a full sized riding arena, gated grounds, and a perfectly sized home with room to convert into a small apartment for Dearest Son.  I have not seen the inside yet, but in the week since we discovered the for sale advertisement, I have not stopped thinking about this home.  Something tells my heart that this is it. Something resonnates within me that we are home.

Home.

Of the few times in my life I have felt this way - about Mr. Wonderful, about my horse, about adopting my dear son Samuel, my heart ruled before my head even had a chance to chime in and provide an opinion.  I have learned that when this quiet voice within me speaks it is right beyond all reasoning, and that by faith we have moved forward to realize the dream. 

I am listening, heart pounding.

Happy Wednesday, Dear Ones...

 
 

The Problem With Being a Perfectionist ~

.... is that the work is never just... done.  You fuss and grumble and rearrange until you think it is all perfect, and then the seasons change, or you get a new piece of furniture, or maybe you just got up on the wrong side of the bed that morning, whatever it is, you just can't .... settle.

With a determined look in your eye you forge ahead and stick to the project at hand. You nest and fuss, and nest and fuss some more until finally, finally, you somehow stumble upon the right combination of furniture and lovelies that, for the moment, captures the elusive state of decorating perfection.

Which in my experience lasts about 30 days. 

This makes Mr. Wonderful just... well, nuts.  He despairs of ever curing me of my illness, which I think is pretty nuts in return, because, really, I was like this when he got me, no one forced him to take me, so this should all be no surprise to him after 41 years.   However, he keeps saying silly thinks like "my Mother never used to change around the furniture" as though that makes a hill of beans of difference to in the grand scheme of things. 

Besides, he should know them's fightin' words. 

However, he may just have a point.  Exhibit #1:  The Art Nest.

Oy Vey.

Ditto.

[sigh] Notice the new black dresser?

These photos are after several months of loading the dear little room to the ceiling, then emptying it again, then filling it up, then.... you get the picture.  What you don't see is the stuff that, on weekends, spills out of the art nest and into the foyer and hall, and maybe sometimes the dining room, and on a really bad day, the kitchen. 

I have explained to Mr. Wonderful that I am doing this all for him, and seriously, couldn't he show a little gratitude? 

My sad tale began just after Christmas when I, innocently enough, began Spring cleaning, which since it really wouldn't be Spring until April, was maybe not the right choice of words, but basically, it's all about avoiding the winter blahs, cabin fever and general "I've been cooped up inside too long" blues, and being productive.  I do this every year after Christmas, clearing away the rubble and glitter of the season, and going through all the closets and cupboards so that everything has a place and everything is in its place.  Besides, Mr. Wonderful has been begging me to clear away the, er, "junk" as he call it, and simplify a bit. 

And because I am a linear person, I, naturally, began upstairs in the master bedroom suite and office loft.  The result are lovely.  However, the side effect of this were all the extra treasures and collectables had to go somewhere... and so the den became the place to stash everything.  Everything.  Like four feet high, everything... until I cover it all in bubble wrap and shuffle it over to storage.

Which, according to Mr. Wonderful, is full.  I need to check on this, as he has no talent for spatial relationships. 

So in the weeks since I've last posted I've been hard at it, sorting, packing away the extra stuff, simplifying to a more spare esthetic, still vintage, still lovely, but much easier to clean, and visually restful. 

As time went on, and I got further into my project, I realized our needs in a home were changing.  We are pretty much empty nesters, both working demanding jobs, both want more time to play.  I just want a place where I can have my horse, a real clothesline for my sheets, and an herb garden, and chickens.  And maybe pigs.  Mr. Wonderful and I used to make the best cured and smoked hams... but that was 20 years ago.   

The reality is that I want to get the house ready to sell, and so the decorating scheme will need to be less specific and more... acceptable to potential buyers, but without losing one bit of charm.  We spent last Sunday looking at horse properties and I'm excited about the possbility of seeing it all come true.

Perfection.

But until we find that place in our dreams, we're still cleaning, nesting, fussing and sorting our way through the house.  At least as long as there's still snow outside.  However, Kona's been watching the little birds return to the feeders, so Spring really is not too far away ~

Keep nesting Dear Ones, so that all your dreams of decorating perfection come true!

 

 

 

It Doesn't Look Like Work ~

It is a warm place, peaceful, richly colored, streams of sunlight dapple the earthy textured carpet and kitties lounge about everywhere.  Sometimes even on the keyboard. This is where I work at home.  This is a home office that looks nothing like a work space, but more of a "bring your glass of wine and hangout" kind of space. 

I learned long ago that the comfort of the environment at work, as well as the comfort of the work space at home, was very important to me.  I just can't concentrate if it's messy, or garishly lit with those horrible overhead lights, or if the work space isn't "just right."  So it was a challenge to create something at home that is efficient, stays organized, is kitty friendly, and invites me to hang out a while.  We've been eight years in our lovely Craftsman, and the office area has always been decorated as more of an afterthought, serviceable, but not lovely. 

Until now.  Come and look ~

The space is really just a wide area on the upper landing immediately after you come up the u-shaped staircase, a huge deck of sorts, or bridge, the lofty two-story foyer over one side of the bannister, and the beautiful great room over the other.  I can sit up here and watch TV, be part of everything that's going on, but not.... and yes, it is very kitty friendly. 

This is the view from the french doors of our bedroom.  Truffles, as usual, has been supervising my efforts, and has sprawled his long form across the carpet, capturing the warmest of the sunbeams.  From this view you can see the cork board over the door to my son's suite of rooms, and to the left of that the linen closet and laundry room, leading into the upper bath.  On the far left, over the bannister, is the great room below, and on the far right, the foyer.  It's a lovely space, my little loft, but awkward in terms of arranging a workable and esthetically pleasing work space.  Since it's also open to the rest of the house you just can't make a big office-y mess and shut the door when company comes.

I used to have an old roll top desk here - huge really, and it dwarfed the space.  But then last fall we found the barley twist desk and matching two shelf unit, all rich black, and on sale, which made it all the nicer.  I've had the old cane chair for ages, and love its deep, dark patina and scratched up arms.  It has an oxblood red leather seat, and I've been meaning to reupholster it with the elderly piece of damask velvet that is tossed askew on it now, but I've found I actually like the piece of cloth just laying casually over the cushion, and so have left it as it is. 

Perfection. 

Yes, he's pretty perfect too.  Have I mentioned I'm in love with a little boy kitty that is all ears, long tail and huge paws?  He's a house-a-fire and bedevils his Aunties Kona, Bitty and Binx, but next month, when I take him to the vet for a tiny, er, surgery, I figure he'll be less of a pest to the more gentle and mannered girl kitties.  I don't think he suspects anything, do you?

This is the view from the entry of the landing towards my bedroom.  I love the old window frame that has been re-purposed into a chalkboard, and the tall lamp that lights my work.  Pictures of my father sit atop the two shelf unit, and an old piece of cloth makes for a nice curtain that hides file boxes, further reducing visual clutter.  I found a weathered wood, two drawer set that I use to hide printer inks, and other office supplies. and placed it on top of the black shelves.  On the right is a big set of oak bookshelves. 

My dozens of decorating, knitting and crafting books are neatly organized, along with basket bins that hold camera gear and other supplies that are best stored out of sight.  The drapes over the bookshelves are one of my nutty ideas.  Mr. Wonderful says that he likes to see the books, yet I prefer to reduce the visual congestion by offering a more neutral view, so I bought two rod pocket curtains and hung them on tension rods hidden at the top of the shelves, cut the bottom of the drapes off to the length I needed, then sewed a natural fringe trim to finish it off.  

At the other end of the landing is this blank wall, and so to balance the weight of the room, I set a little console table against the wall, a collection of old crystal and glass storage containers at the base, and a new, but nice, 3-tier wire tray at the top as the in-box, if you will.  Some green mossy things, a crate of robin's eggs nestled in a vintage rusty dish tops it all off.  Papers, bills and other items that have not been addressed or filed away are on each shelf, old books or some crusty old treasure weighing them down on each tier.  I found the yummy doily on Etsy, falling in love with the delicious black edging.  Definitely not a sweet doily.  This one's got sass.

Behind my desk is a small set of shelves cut into the wall.  It holds the Peanut Gallery, my collection of vintage animals and dolls, each one huggable and dear, gifts from my son, or Mr. Wonderful.  They sit and smile down at me while I work, and I like that. 

I really, really like to work up here now, yes, glass of wine or espresso beside me, or perhaps Binx purring softly on her little pillow that I bring and sit right on top of the desk for her.  She'll sleep there for hours, or as long as I'm working away, her gentle presence soothing, ambiance of the most wonderful kind. 

So Dear Ones, this is what I've been doing these weeks, turning the house upside down, organizing what stays out, what gets packed away, what goes to charity and what goes on the Etsy site.  I have decided that my flea market style needs some sophistication and refinement, the clutter edited, a new focus on neutrals, warmth, and so have been moving from room to room making these changes, using the cold months after Christmas and before Spring to be productive. 

The sun has more warmth lately, and Mr. Wonderful said he saw a tree just full of pussy willows. 
Nice.  I can't wait.  However, today, which is bright and shiny, is still very cold, and so indoor activities continue to rule my weekends.  After finishing the bedroom, bathrooms, office, great room, entry way, dining and kitchen, the only room left to be tamed is the art nest. 

So in I go, and surely Truffles will follow.  After all, there's just too many kitty toys in there to ignore, and the opportunity to get under mom's feet is too delicious.  He'll chirp happily as he explores and climbs the stacks of things heaped haphazardly into piles on the floor. 

The horrible tangle of vintage treasures doesn't faze him at all.  He's much,  much braver than I.

 

To Give A Valentine That Lasts ~

I have been thinking a lot about Valentine's Day lately.  One just can't avoid it, as there are pink and red hearts just about everywhere you look.  Ugh.  I ponder the real meaning of the holiday and grumble at what I see.  While Mr Wonderful is all "bah humbug" around Christmastime, I am quite out of sorts when it comes to Valentine's Day.  I think it's because I'm not sure that it's quite right to have just one day set aside in which you are supposed to do something special for your sweetheart.

Are you with me? 

There's just too much pressure to get it right, you know?  And I imagine that many wives and sweethearts spend the day disappointed because their own darling man hasn't met expectations ... again.  A funky card because all the good ones were long ago picked over, wilted, shabby roses from the discount store because he hadn't remembered you have to order the good ones simply weeks in advance, odd, useless things purchased in a panic at the last minute because he felt obligated to do something, anything. 

Oh, the drama, it's just not to my liking, mostly because I kind of enjoy the thought that every day is Valentine's Day.  I am too much the romantic, and I believe that the holiday as it is celebrated in modern times asks us to focus on the surface ideal, and not love's deeper qualities.  I would wish for Love's Offering on this day to be sweeter, simpler, more in keeping with the true, lasting nature of the relationship, not some ideal that the world would tell me is the right way to celebrate my heart's desire. 

Mr. Wonderful clearly does not conform to those over-exuberant ideals of romantic love, but he still says "I love you" each day, several times at least.  And he calls me every day at work, for no reason at all, but he calls, just to see how my day is going.  He cleans Johnnie's paddock each evening, and yes, sometimes he complains when its messy, but he always does it, even when I'm traveling.  He cooks dinner most nights, and cleans up afterwards.  I hate dishes and cooking.  How nice that he likes to cook. He's patient with kitties, and my decorating schemes, and my womanly ups and downs.

It's not that he can't do impressive demonstrations of his adoration, such as the time my rather petite assistant came in to my office, weighted down with a huge vase and bouquet of 30 enormous red roses and a single white one. Or before we were married and he sent me, all the way from Alaska to Oregon, a ruffly, silky, gigantic box of chocolate in the most girly container you could imagine.  It arrived smack dab on Valentine's Day, and I was certain that the postman was nervous that I would smooch him, I was so impressed and overwhelmed at the gift. 

But that was a long time ago. 

Now, after 4 years of courting and 37 years of marriage, 41 years together in all, I only ever ask for the same thing I have always asked for, a simple card with a sweet sentiment, a little note of love, a quiet dinner at home, and to be reminded that, as we promised each other so long ago, we are joined together.... forever.

Dear Ones, I hope this day you have someone special to give a sweet Valentine wish to.  It doesn't have to be a sweetheart, it could be anyone precious to you, anyone dear to your heart, any one special soul who would love to receive a message of hope and affection... from you. 

Give of yourself.  Give a gift of sweet love to remember for all time ~  

 
 
 

A Most Simple Life ~

I vaguely remember those lazy days spent happily creating in my studio, beautiful parts and pieces scattered before me, just waiting to become some lovely whatnot to share, or gift, or sell. It seems that it is not to be for a couple more weeks, as most of my creating has been in an airplane seat, or a hotel room, lately, and really, TSA frowns upon scissors and glue in one's luggage. Even if I weren't traveling I couldn't get into my art nest. It's a disaster, and If I dared published a photo of its present state you would be positively horrified.

It's a spectacular mess.

I've been stacking excess stuff in it for weeks. Piles of lovely things out from drawers and closets, layered one upon the other in teetering piles, all waiting to be photographed, wrapped in bubble wrap and stored safely until each item is packaged and ready to leave. The detritus of over-exuberant Spring cleaning, you know. Wonderful excesses of "collecting" that simply must go, preferably to my Etsy site so that they can become the dear treasures of others. Two reasons: #1) I can't possibly allow my love of "collecting" beautiful things to become a problem of "accumulating", and #2) my decorating esthetic must aspire to a more spare look, hence the trimming down. Sounds romantic and all, but really it's about more time for goofing off. I'm determined to give up the weekly two-day cleaning demand in exchange for a bit of extra fun in my life. If time is to be at a premium (I travel for work a lot) then I'm going to make sure I spend more of it doing what I love - which does not include a lot of dusting, fussing, organizing and caring for too many pretties.

Unfortunately, Dear Ones, my obsessive Spring cleaning is on pause while I'm spending this week in DC on business with all this lovely snow. Quite an adventure, you know? But I'm itching to get back home and dive headlong into the de-cluttering fray, that is, if there's room in the den to pile more stuff.

Blessings ~

 

Oh, and if this post turns out to be rather odd looking, it's because I'm blogging on my iPad from my hotel room. Hmmmmm.... it's very different!

Holiday Reflections ~

This weekend, lost in thought, I carefully wrapped each fragile ornament and placed it into what would be its protective nest for the next 11 months.  It look a long time and was a somewhat hypnotic process, gingerly teasing the old hooks from flocked branches, removing each ornament that had so sweetly decorated the lovely little tree, the crinkling of tissue paper coverings, an old movie on the television, a good glass of wine, kitties in the middle of everything, until finally each branch was empty, serene.  As though I had plucked the little evergreen from a wintry alpine meadow, just as Mr. Wonderful and I used to do long ago. 

With all the Christmas boxes packed away I thought how it had been a most memorable Holiday Season for me.  I hope it was for you too, Dear Ones.  Our little family celebrated Christmas afternoon with the bigger Terwilliger clan, and then entertained later that evening in our own home - something I haven't done in quite a while.  I hadn't enjoyed my son's good company so much in... well, I don't know how long it's been.  We took turns opening our gifts and laughed and smiled... and lingered, unwilling to let the day slip away. I watched Samuel's face in the glow of lamp and fire, his gentle, shy smile and true thankfulness for his family and the gifts he'd received.   Mr. Wonderful sat in his big chair and waited for me to open his gift to me - an iPad, which I adore.  He's a natural Grinch, to be sure, but on Christmas morning his heart melts and he willingly lets go of his curmudgeon-y self for a few hours.  

But now, a week past the pre-Christmas hurrying about, of things to get and things to do, the excitement of giving a special gift to someone dear, the food - oh the food, and now it was just me and the kitties, which, with a baby in the house, was quite enough post-holiday excitement to be sure.  The baby, or Cascade Mountain Truffe du Chocolat "Truffles" as he is called, spent most of his time disturbing my Zen-like efforts to clear away the holiday ephemera by thundering into the great room, stealing an ornament and then dashing away like a mad kitty. 

He looks innocent enough, doesn't he?  Truffles is our 6 month old Maine Coon kitten, a handsome chocolate classic tabby, a 10# baby boy who has captured my heart in a major way.  I am silly putty in his big furry paws.  If he dares to look me straight in the eye and chirp, well... you know the rest. 

He'd offered to assist early on with the un-decorating, earnestly pleading his case as to his ability to be more responsible than the girl kitties, reminding me that it was, after all, his first Christmas and he'd never seen so many kitty toys in one place. 

I caved, but hovered protectively. 

It was, really, a complete free-for-all for a while there, my only recourse was to let them at it (with non-breakable, non-toxic, safe ornaments) until they were all exhausted.  It didn't take Truffles long.  He's all go... and then, CRASH, he's down for the count for several hours. 

Curling up in my favorite wing chair to chirp at me and grumble his loud, deep, rumbly-purr apologies for making such a mess, "...but it was nappy-time after all, Mom.  I'll get to the un-decorating later, okay?"

Not a chance. 

Blessings to you Dear Ones ~

 

 

Burning My Candle at Both Ends ~

Oh my, this last month has been a whirlwind, puncutated by technical problems that are finally resolved.  I'm here to tell you, you can't do a nice blog post from an iPhone.  That tiny screen is not user-friendly, even in a pinch. 

We are all well at the Terwilliger household, and the holidays have been so very good to us and our family, and I hope to you all too, Dear Ones.  Now that my technical woes are over and I am connected once again, I will play a bit of catch up, but the high points are a new job and a new kitty - fur family member #4 - Cascade Mountains Truffe du Chocolat, or "Truffles".   Truffles is a exceptionally charming and handsome 5 month old Maine Coon kitten, a chocolate classic tabby, a dear little boy to torment our three girls, full of life and already the most cuddly, lovely kitty ever.  He's been with us for a few weeks and is, even now, snoring beside me on the cuddle ball on my desk as I type.  I'm happy to say that the kitty family is all settled back down once the newcomer's presence was approved. 

But I've gotta tell you, he rules the roost. 

Oh, and the new job.  Well, when that bigger-than-life dream job comes along and they want you to join their team as much as you want to be there too, you just have to listen to that little voice in your head and make the leap. I was very happy at my last post, but the opportunity I'm now enjoying comes but once in a lifetime and fullfills a dream from long ago.  I am VP of Risk Management and Safety for a very large national company again, but this time the role is deep into Enterprise Risk Management.  Next level stuff to be precise.  Sort of like the difference between being an accountant and an actuary, real beans vs imaginary beans, it's deeply strategic, creative, technical.  Phenominally good work for a total nerd like me. 

And I'm not afraid to confess I find it fun. 

But that's just how I roll. 

Heavenly Father, thank You for all Your blessings, for my family, for Your hand on my life, for all that You've given me and denied me when You knew best, for this Holiest of Chrismas Seasons...

.. and for Dear Ones that are willing to listen to me share my heart on this humble little blog.  May Your Love cover them too this Season, and may the Peace which passes all understanding descend upon their hearts and lives this day.