Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Thrifting & my Thoughts on it

When I think about it from the beginning, it doesn't Really make sense.
What I grew up with, what I came from, and what I wanted for my future didn't have anything to do with perusing pre- owned goods. 
I often hear stories about people that grew up with parents that would wake them up in the wee hours of the morning to wander flea markets, to find(hidden) treasures.
More often I would wake up and work on my forts in the woods, and want for shiny new things.
I did find myself at a few flea markets a young filly. My grandpa owned a spice business, and occasionally my mom and I would help him go set up. Because I was still an adolescent, I had no interest in moldy old books, or lamps that would drip wax when plugged in(dating myself here). The only interest I did show, was one Sunday, when we brought home our first dog, despite my Dad knowing nothing about it. She was Free.
It wasn't until high school, that I became motivated to again visit the marts. I had a boyfriend that was new to the area, and his parents bought a (truly) dilapidated house way on the edge of town. They had moved from Michigan and his Mom and Dad were re- doing the house, all in their spare time. They were honorable people, and I admired their handiness. Mike chipped in as well and was his
Dads right hand man. His Mom, Jan was justifiably the one who opened my eyes to Junque? And sometimes Junk. Jan wore cashmere sweaters, with her shopworn jeans. And that outfit right there has officially become my day- off jam. Mrs Vantatenhove was justifiably more Rachel Ashwell than Pioneer Woman. She helped my haul my first set of slipcovered chairs home from Cedarburg, back to Brookfield.
So maybe now, because of them, I want The Story.
I want to Save all the great pieces. I see certain things and they speak to me. I can almost immediately picture where they'll sit, or the space they will hang. There are pieces begging to be painted, or hoping of a promising re- upholster. I know I've mentioned that before and even now, it still sounds crazy.
 Some people say they rather have 30 minutes of happy than a lifetime of settling? (well so would I) But I'd definitely rather have a household of the honorably painted, the wing chairs of the wealthy, or  the glassware, previously poured by a great host.
But That's Just Thrifting, & my Thoughts on it.

Monday, September 21, 2015

3 years ago, I got Married

So, 3 years ago I got married.
And for as cliché and expected as it sounds, 3 years feels like about 36 months....get it..
For those of you just following, P and I didn't have a "traditional" wedding. No church, no aisle, and no cake. You may have realized at some point, I'm Not That type of girl. And Yes I've said it before, Getting married was one of the most Normal things I've ever done.
 
No big deal, I just didn't need to walk down an isle(insert anxiety) and have everyone checking out my backside taking bad photos. And far as our vows, and our marriage, despite having a blog and opening a literal can of worms for people to read, we Do keep Some things private.
 
When preparing for this post, and taking in the last 3 years, I thought it best, as usual to keep things extremely Real. Sometime ago, I spoke with someone who was surprised I was married, and said, "Well, you don't like the married type". Followed by ,"You don't Act married?!"I can appreciate both exclamations because when I think of married people I think of 2 things.
1. Women that attend those at home candle or rubber food storage parties and spend the night, shit talking their spouse.
2. The married man that loses his money on a guys weekend to the Madame with no clothes. Read; The unfulfilled miserable sexually frustrated.
I can thankfully and honestly say P and I are not members of either Camp.
 
In 3 years we've settled in this nice little place of familiarity. The routine we have woven is more comforting, than conforming. Our relationship wasn't immediate from the start. When he would push I would pull and when he would pull I would push. He would ask me why couldn't it be easier, and Why did his friends make it look so easy? "Ohh Sweethart, what you don't know", I would tell him.
P will be patient when I am not, and he'll be understanding when I'm frustrated. He won't allow himself to become embroiled in something that already has me fuming. There is now a yin and yang that has developed without assignment.
 
At this point, I can sit next to this man and not have to exchange words. This is my favorite part. If you can just sit with someone, and not have to fill the space with unnecessary conversation, then you know you've got a keeper. The attraction is still palatable. My hand on his arm, my knee to his knee, I can't be near him and not touch his skin.
 
His Side of the Story:
I'm not much of a writer at all, but Dianah asked me to just pen a few things I know for sure after 3 years. It sound like some Oprah-isms, but for her, I'm willing to contribute. 
 
I think I was meant to find her.
No it wasn't easy from the start. That message about getting the sweetest fruit at the top of the tree? It took a few years to realize that.
Sure, I'll look at other girls for the rest of my life. If you don't you're lying, or you must be dead. Those 22 year olds may be a novelty, but I'd be bored inside of 10 minutes. I would rather have  Dianah, and a glass jar with goldfish in it, than a houseful with someone else. I look foreword to her coming home everyday, more than her dog. And if you know Annie, you know that's pretty serious.
 
At this point, if I didn't have her, I'd have to hang out at Anthropologie, or flea markets. Looking for a gal that looks great, smells good, makes fantastic food, and keeps a great house. "Good luck Ladies". If I went on Match.com or Plenty of Fish and told someone I need my fuzzy slippers, coffee, and pajama pants, she'd probley go running.
 
Being single now would be like a jail sentence- and that's not time I'm willing to do.
 
Cheers to 3 years, now let's go have a drink!
D+P

Saturday, September 12, 2015

From France to the Fox & Hounds

"Go Ahead, order it", he said.
He had said it a few times before, but more in a defeatist sort of way.
And prior to this night, I would have felt like I was taken advantage of the offer.
Taking advantage of a defeatist moment, a weak moment, a 2 cocktails in moment.
Or maybe I felt like I hadn't suffered enough,,,more on that later.
He had said it a few times before,  
Many of you have asked,
"When did the monogramming start?"
Maybe 30-ish some odd years ago. See if you've been following along on this little Bloggity, you'd know that I have 2 older sisters. By the time I got their hand- me -downs, they were more down and OUT, as in out of style.
So when the rare occasion came to receive something of my very own, my Momma made sure it was a special occasion.
I've often Hashtagged, #yankeebymarriage, because that was exactly what her and her mother were. Traditionally raised women of the south, that only moved north for the man of their Dreams. My mother married for 50 years to my father, and my grandmother married to my grandfather for over 75.
 
 
So they Monogrammed.
And if I was lucky enough to be able to wear a jacket, or have a sweater for school picture day, she made sure it had my initials freshly sewn on. 
So when the offer came up again, and our 3rd anniversary was looming in the near future,  I decided to indeed get that order blooming. My inner traditionalist loves the fact that 3rd year anniversary gift is leather. And believe me, when I asked around, I got plenty of "ideas".
 
When we were placing the order, something extraordinary happened that I'll never forget.
Its a big decision to order a handbag that runs about as much as a mortgage payment. It's an even bigger decision to have someone hand paint your initials on it. So when P asked me, what initials I would choose, I gave it a few thoughts. Your maiden name, is where you begin, an who you'll always be. Even though None of us plan for the worst, I can say I've been through some of That. And would I want my DDR there to lean back on?
And then P asks, what about having my Dads monogram put on it, so he'd always be with me. That's the extraordinary part. He comes out of no where, and shocks the hell out of me. What man that allows someone to take his married name, would offer that? The Right one.
So DGD it is, and was, and will be.