This week I wandered through many antique shops.
Oh, not the kind where everything is ancient and priced right for millionaires only. No, but the type where our grandmothers would probably laugh to see, 1.) The rusty tins, mixing bowls and aprons they would have handled in their kitchens every single day and 2.) The price tags on their 1930's stuff!
But anyway, as usual, I took mental notes on how these old objects were displayed. Many were placed in tiny room-like scenarios, little kitchen corners with painted sifters, metal canisters, Formica tables and egg beaters. Small bedroom-like boxes with beds, oval-framed sepia photos and chenille bedspreads. On and on I wandered until I began to feel a little discouraged that most of my own rooms at home aren't as cute as these.
Then I realized I already own much of what was sprawled all over (or variations). So if my rooms don't look that cute? Well, it's my own fault. I mean, I've neglected my decorating skills this year and I've gotten downright lazy in the Creativity Department.
Basically--if my house doesn't look as cute as I'd like--and if I'm spending money on things I do not love--and if I'm not creatively arranging and painting what I do own, well, the fault is not my husband's or our budget's or God's or Life's. But mine. All mine.
Well, standing in one of those shops, I once again vowed not to become one of those people who blame everything and everyone for the lack in their life. No way. So today I began tackling our Guest/Music/Exercise/Throw-It-In-There Room. And here you go--some photos.
This is just a start. And sometimes, rising-up against inactivity--and the futility of blame and excuses and that lazy pull-- is all it takes to make us feel a whole lot better. (And I'm not just talking about decorating, either.)
(Click on photos to enlarge...)
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