Home is....

Been thinking about what home is lately, and what makes a home. And here is what it is to me:

 

It's wherever you are loved.

 It's wherever you find yourself under a warm blanket.

It's when you are with someone who makes you laugh until you toot and then you both laugh even harder.

It's wherever someone makes you soup.

It's where there is a well worn scrabble board.

 It's where random hugs happen.

It's where there is tender wisdom given.

It's where you can cry full on, and someone runs to hand you a Kleenex.

It's where warm cookies are baked whether you're on a diet or not.

It's where there is imperfect furnishings.

It's where there is a pot of coffee on often.

 It's where there is more laughter than tears, and laughter through tears.

It's wherever "I love you" is said daily.

 It's wherever you can put your hair in a scrunchie and slip into ratty sweatpants.

 It's where a sense of humor is not optional.

 It's where people can tell you truth, because they love you.

 It's where someone will always have your back.

 It's where someone gives good back rubs.

It's where someone says, "You're weird" after you act totally goofy and weird.

There are pets.

There are jammie days.

There is French toast.

 It's where I can be my strange, disorderly, mischevious, flip-out, soulful, and messy self.

 

 

"Home" by Phillip Phillips

http://youtu.be/HoRkntoHkIE

TV cabinet into a kitchen island? it's as easy as 1,2,3... Then 4,5,6...;)

here is our latest upcycle challenge! we will show the finished piece tomorrow!

Our BEFORE and AFTER faves y'all!

Here are some of my favorite Before and Afters that we've done over the years...ENJOY!!!

Beds that are so pretty I can't look directly at them...

Salvage and Scrap bits and Finials, oh my!

I can't throw out wood. It's a disorder, I know. Because most of the old stuff is good stuff like cherry and mahogany!...so I took some old cherry pedestal pieces from a discarded dining table and made them into works of art for your fireplace...I think they're perdy.  we are planning in making more...these are already sold. Get junkin!

The Tough Stuff

It's been a rough week. A rough winter, actually. And I'm not sure I have my footing going into the Spring. And it's not one major "thing" that has me off my center, it's a whole bunch of little things. Because the tough stuff is in the "little things", I feel, and can create just as much anxiety in me. The big stuff of life you can point to and say, "that was earth shattering" or "I'm glad I survived that". But the little decisions of life can have, over time, the effect of wearing away at one's solid ground, like the ocean chipping away at the side of a cliff. Before you know it, you're in the drink. I had several decisions to make this week that I could have gone 50/50 on. If I went in either direction, nothing tragic would occur, but each choice had it's own set of guilt baggage attached to it. And it wore me out. I couldn't honestly say that the choices I went with were the "right" ones. They were what was right, I'm sure, after weighing things out and saying a prayer or two. But so were the choices I didn't go with. They were sort of right, too. But why is it then that I felt so guilty afterwards? I think it is because we deep down know that the small decisions and choices CAN have huge consequences, just as much as the big decisions. Because life is so darn unpredictable. Because you can decide on shopping at GIANT supermarket when you usually go to Costco, and then slip on ice in the parking lot and break your leg. Life is so crazy like that. You can turn a corner and in an instant greet ecstasy or tragedy. And so I will continue to approach the small choices just like the big ones: weigh things out, check my internal "justice scales" for whether or not it's the right thing to do, talk to 10 of my friends, check my Magic 8 ball, say a Hail Mary and hope for the best. And then let go and let God. Here's an example of a painting decision that paid off. Green rocks.

Have you ever had one of those moments late at night where you close your eyes real tight and go back in time? You clear your mind to a blank screen and slip back, way back, before kids, before marraige, before aches and pains and bad knees. Before tanking 401k's and arguements over money. Before holiday visits to the in-laws, and before working for the man to make a lousy buck. And you remember that fresh, wrinkle-free kid at nineteen or twenty. No stretch marks, still on mom and dad's dime, still innocent and ignorant of the realities of adult life as you currently know it. What a time. The world was a spotless, white canvas and you were ready to fill it with color. Knowing what you know now, knowing the twists of fate, the unexpected heartbreaks or disappointments, the dreams that fell short or the shortcomings you have discovered about yourself...would you change anything. Would you?? I remember lying in bed in my dorm and wondering...what would i be like when i was old, you know, at age thirty. What would my husband look like, and my kids...how many? About getting my doctorate and being a leading child psychologist..."Why yes! I am Dr. So-and-So...did you page me? I'm so sorry, I must've left my pager in the Jaguar." Warp-speed forward to today. I am middle-aged, fighting against the gray army encroaching on my head, never able to shed those ten (er...fifteen) pounds. I always wanted a gaggle of kids. It didn't happen. I never got that PhD. I am NEVER dressed for success (someone tried to buy me lunch the other day because I looked like a hobo). I fail...a lot. My marraige tanked. My crows feet are setting in. My back is crooked like that street in San Francisco. I work until I drop, and sometimes that's not enough to pay the bills. I have insomnia. I lose it with my kids. I live with my parents. I worry. I eat too much. I throw visual darts at the young girls bouncing up and down on the treadmills at the gym. I'm always a day late and dollar short. And childbirth has taken away my ability to sneeze or do jumping jacks without seriously embarrassing consequences. Nothing turned out how I thought it would. Absolutely nothing. Would I go back and change a thing....WOULD I??? ....NO. The paths I chose, good and bad, have led me to right where I sit...right at this computer screen clacking these particular words. And here's what's great about it... Signs of aging have somehow given me the confidence to tell people like it is. And that I aint'uh taken no guff. The saddle bags make me a real woman, not a stick figure...all warm and squishy and huggy, like a Mom should be. I didn't have a bunch of kids but I am blessed beyond belief with a stepdaughter who I love with all my heart, and a little boy who makes my world so big, and bright and colorful, I can hardly get my head around it. I may not be book smart, but I sure learned everything that matters at the School of Hard Knocks. My crooked back is stronger than it ever was because of all that hard work I do. It feels better than when I was younger, because it's always challenged. I used to be a lazy thing. Now I bust a move and you better try and keep up. I may be a tough mom, but I've got the greatest job in the world, teaching my kids how to be respectful of others and be good people (or so help me I'll get out the wooden spoon!). I have more friends than I ever could have hoped for or deserve. I am blessed with a great family that loves and supports me. That's HUGE. As for jumping jacks....who the heck wants to do those anyways??? I know more my mind and my goals, where I came from and where I'm headed, than any other time in my life. My feet, though they may have bunions, are firmly grounded in faith, work, friends, and family. All this is to say that I never envisioned winding up owning a shop like mine. Everything I have lived, all of it, culminates what is The Shabby Attic. And we are really doing somenthing phenomenal. I am excited every day to jump out of bed and get to work and do something so creative and extraordinary. It's my life as I know it, and it's moving forward at full speed ahead. And it's never going back.