You Can Go Home Again???

As many of you know, I'm on a house hunt. After surviving an unexpected divorce, I moved home to save money to get a roof over my head for me and my son. This was a tough decision, but a necessary one, since I didn't have a pot to pee in. But as they say, you can never go home again. But I did.  Though I am eternally grateful to my wonderful parents for allowing me to do this, it is not without it's quirks.  When I left home, I was about 21. Returning home I was twice that age. Here is what I have observed about living with "the senior citizens", as I so lovingly call my folks:
1. Retired people spend about 75% of their day looking for their glasses.
2. I get the Daily Bowel Report from my mom.
3. Forget the weather man.  Dad predicts the weather with his arthritis with 95% accuracy.
4. My mom has seen all the store bathrooms within a 20 mile radius of our house.
5. Dad can't hear mom.
6. Mom can't hear Dad.
7. Yet they still yell to each other from another room, and get no reply for some strange reason.
8. TV watching in two separate rooms means I get to hear Judge Judy in stereo.
9. Jeopardy time is a NO TALKING zone.
10.  Mom makes statements to Dad like "I've been with you all these years and I'm still amazed at the sounds that come out of your body". It's like Ozzie and Harriet.
11. Dad has had the same bath robe since 1975.
12. Mom has had the same nightgowns since 1987.
13.They have taken to collecting weird stuff. Dad, large toy insects...Mom, hoarding scissors and pens in the bathroom closet. What is up with that mom???
14. I call them the "Jewish Zombies" in the mornings as they shuffle towards the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of Advil on the way to the coffee pot. "Oyyy....oh my back....Oyyyy, moan moan,, shuffle shuffle, Oyyyyy..."
15.  I have adjusted to the TV on volume setting "68". Which means I am slowly becoming deaf, too.
16. Dad goes panicky if Mom is gone for more than an hour.
17. Mom never has her cell phone turned on/powered up/with her.
18. Equals three voicemails on my phone from Dad asking where Mom is.
19. TCM is on so much I forget that TV comes in color.
20.  The Bengay tube looks a lot like the toothpaste tube in the medicine cabinet. Just sayin.
21.  Married since 1968, my parents have been committed to one another, through good times and the bad, and are still the best of friends. They yell at each other, laugh together, lean on each other, and are moving through the "back 9" together and look GREAT despite all the aches and pains. They make me laugh and have my UPMOST respect for what they have done for me by allowing me into their home. They are "old school" in the BEST sense of the term, and by that I mean loyal, sensible, responsible, loving, and the head of a great family. And I love'm to death.

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.