Wednesday, July 11, 2012


So last night I went through three years worth of Country Living magazines.  I was not looking forward to any of this as I sat down looking over at the pile of magazines that were somehow mocking me.  I'd saved them because, like an idiot, I thought I would go through them page by page and take out what inspired me.  A few years ago I started a binder full of pictures that gave me inspiration for rooms in our home.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.  Well, until I accumulated three years worth of Country Living magazines.

I love Country Living.

Truly, I do.

Their glossy pages are full of things that just make me swoon and my heart go pitter-pat.  There are pages of vintage cake carriers, painted chairs, checkerboard floors, textiles and fabrics that make me cry and long to make my home just like that picture right there.

And then reality sets in.

I'm the mother of four.  Three of my lovelies are still currently living at home and they are unrelenting in their pursuit to wear me the heck out every single day of my life.


My youngest - from the time I hit that back door at 5:37 - says "Momma, guess what?" about 87 times.  I wish I were exaggerating.

That's her.

I'll tell you more about her later.

But anyway, including the short one wearing red, there are two other people, including my hubby who bide for my time and in their effort to seek my attention first, they talk over one another, through each other, and more often than not someones butt is chapped inside of three minutes.

See what I mean?

They're exhausting.

And lovely.

Anyway, back to my magazines.  I love these things.  They're glossy and pretty and perfect.  In other words:  They are nothing like my life.

But, someday when I no longer have scrubby hand prints on every door jamb in my life, I, too, hope to have painted chairs, a mirror I've framed in myself, pillows I've sewn out of feed sacks, tile above my sink in my bathroom, a pretty/inspiring desk/computer area, and I hope to never see a Barbie tiara ever ever again.  (That's a lie.  I borrow 'em so I can feel pretty now and again)

Now, I've got pages upon pages of inspiration for my binder that I'll hopefully put together before the snow flies.

Here's hoping.

P.S.  My middle daughter has my sense of humor obviously (her latest creation on her computer art game):

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