The personal vs. the impersonal

Recently, one of my co-workers and I were discussing a photograph that we saw in a magazine. The photo showed a woman posed in her home. The home was lovely and it was obvious that a decorator had spent a lot of money to make it look that way. Despite its loveliness, the home looked so impersonal to me. When I mentioned it to my co-worker, she had trouble comprehending what I was meant.

 

I had to explain it to her--that it looked as though the objects in the home had been chosen strictly for their decorative features, and that they probably meant nothing to the owner. Her response, was, "So what? Isn't everyone's home like that?" I was equally flabbergasted--"You mean to tell me that you think most people just have 'things' in their homes? That they don't care about the objects they surround themselves with?" It turns out that, indeed, that was her belief. And maybe she's right; from what I've seen of most people's homes, they are just filled with things. And, other than personal photos, there's probably not a lot that people would grieve over if it were lost.

If you're a regular reader of this blog, or if you know me personally, you know that this is the exact opposite of how I live and how I decorate.  Everything--everything--in my home means something to me; otherwise I wouldn't have it there.  The sweet ladies who came in to unpack my boxes even commented, "You have the best stories!" 

 

Hearing their words made me start thinking about those wonderful stores.  I miss having someone  who shares in those memories, those shared stories.  So, since you guys are my wonderfully patient audience, and I love  to tell stories, I'm going to start a regular feature called Show and Tell Sunday where I "show" some of my favorite things, and then "tell" their stories.  Please feel free to share your favorite things and their stories in the comments.

And what about you?  Do you surround yourself with meaningful things?  Or do you prefer a sleek, decorator look?

 

The three biggest treasures I have at home! 

Collections...or "Why I Will Eventually End Up on Hoarders"

I think you can probably see from my previous posts that my parents and I were not exactly minimalists when it came to decorating our houses.  Okay, that's the understatement of the year!  Around our houses, the rule was, "If you have more than two of anything, it is considered a 'collection'."  And, of course, collections must be added to!  (Yes, I know I just ended a sentence in a preposition, and my mother is rolling in her grave because of it!)

 

Throughout my life, I have collected:  dolls, rocks, seashells, Japanese lusterware, crockery bowls, hammered aluminum kitchenware, teddy bears, trinket boxes, native American art, crosses and cross pendants, David Winter houses, napkins, ballpoint pens, restaurant ware, miniature liquor bottles, sand, and booklets.  Because I have an almost pathological need to hang on to everything, I still collect everything except the dolls, rocks, napkins, and seashells!  Just recently, when the organizers came, I gathered the courage to divest myself of most of my dolls.  I spent my youth collecting them, but I don't really have any valuable ones.  I saved my favorites, and they're going in the room with the teddy bears.  Okay, I don't add any more David Winter houses because they don't make them anymore, and I can't find any little liquor bottles that I don't have, so I guess those are out too.

You may be asking yourself how I came to collect some of the things I do (or did)?  There's no rhyme or reason to it!  If it strikes my fancy, it's fair game.  But there's always a story there too.   For instance, I started collecting sand when I was younger and travelling a lot.  I would collect a little bit of sand from each beach that I visited.  I was even in Hawaii so long ago that visitors could still remove black sand from that famous beach.  I started the David Winter collection when I honeymooned in London.  They were new and all the rage back then.  I thought it would be a great souvenir from our trip and I liked how tiny and detailed these miniatures were.  The teddy bear collection started when I decided to go to Baylor University.  Since their mascot is a bear, teddy bears were the perfect collectible for a Baylor student.  The crockery bowls are some of my favorite things.  That collection started when I received my grandmother's bowl after her death in 1985.  I remember her making sourdough bread in it every week.  As I travelled with my family, I started noticing other bowls--different and so pretty.  Poof--a collection was born!

 

These are pictures of some of my "stuff."

 

 

Crockery bowls (one of my favorite collections)

 

The expensive blue crockery

 

Japanese lusterware

 

Between the two of them, my parents collected:  stringed instruments, wood carvings, thimbles, glass oil lamps,  pitchers (cows), owls, tiny perfume bottles, crystal, matchbooks, bricks, hotel soap, and hand fans.  There are probably more collections that I can't think of, or that quickly fell by the wayside. 

Collections provide the "spice" to my daily life.  They always have and I suspect they always will.  I love getting the opportunity to search for items to add--which is probably why I'll end up on Hoarders.  I watch that show and see myself.  I once told Martha that I was one bad life event away from becoming a hoarder.

Perhaps someone should check on me every now and then in case my piles get too high and one of them collapses on me!

Odd man out

A little while back, I wrote about the joys (and challenges) of owning snow dogs.  However, my two furry beauties are not the only dogs I own.  I also have this little booger that goes by the name of Poquito Bandito! 

 

Like my other two, Poquito is a rescue, coming from a group called Texas' Little Cuties.  He wasn't supposed to be mine, though; he was supposed to be mom's.  Last October, around the time of her birthday, I was at Petsmart getting something for my rowdy bunch, when I saw that they were having an adoption event.  Mom had expressed the desire to get another dog for some time.  Her last dog had died several years ago, and she was lonely.  Even though she had the desire for another dog, she was always unsure about actually getting one because of her increasingly poor health. 

 

Several months earlier, my cousin Bobby and his wife Seene had visited and had brought their little Chihuahua, Mia.  Mom loved that little dog!  She'd never considered getting a Chihuahua before, but thought that Mia was adorable.  When I was at Petsmart, lo and behold, there was a little brown Chihuahua looking lost and lonely in a large cage.  I inquired about the adoption fee, and the lady running the event even took him out of his cage so I could hold him.  Well, that little dog decided right away that I was the one!  He snuggled right down in my arms--so calm and affectionate.  "He'd be perfect for mom," I thought.  I called her immediately, and basically talked her into it, although I didn't have to twist her arm too hard. 

 

$145 and some new dog supplies later, we were on our way to my mom's house.  This little bit of a dog climbed right in my car and made himself at home.  I have to admit, I'm not a small dog person, but he had even me enchanted!

 

 

Everything was peachy, hunky dory, right as rain--until he realized that I would not be staying at this new home of his.  After bringing him to mom, I stayed for a visit, and all the while, he refused to leave my lap.  When I got up to go, I tried handing him off to my mom.  After all, he'd just settled right down when I picked him up.  Yep, that didn't go as planned!  Poquito (whose name was Phoenix at the time) tried to bite her and then he jumped down, ran across the room, and hid behind a chair! 

 

He stayed behind that chair for nearly two days! 

 

I felt terrible; for once, a dog had bonded with me instead of mom!  Mom was always like a dog whisperer.  Dogs loved her!  Every dog my family ever owned ended up being hers, really.  Every dog except this one. 

 

I stayed away, figuring that if he didn't see me, he'd eventually get used to her and used to the idea that he lived with her now.  It took two days for him to come closer.  It took one more day for him to get up on her ottoman.  And in another day, he was finally in her lap--where he stayed until the day she had a stroke!  Once bonded, he was hers utterly.  I was relieved that he no longer even gave up his comfy spot on her lap to come see me when I visited.

 

 

The day I woke to find mom having a stroke, she was holding Poquito with her good hand and petting him.  It's an image that is burned into my brain, and a strong testament to how much she loved that little dog.

 

With everything else that I had to think about after mom's stroke, little Poquito was not exactly my main concern.  In my spare moments, I contemplated finding him a new home, maybe sending him back to Texas' Little Cuties.  After all, I already had two BIG dogs who have high prey drives. I know for sure small animals like rabbits and squirrels are not safe around them, and I knew mom's days of caring for an animal were over.   Juneau and Sitka had met Poquito, but had never been left alone with him. I wasn't sure they would behave (in other words, not eat Poquito) without supervision.

 

 

Finally after a couple of days, I just gave up, and instead of running back and forth between two houses, left all the dogs in the house together. I had neither time nor energy to run to two different houses to take care of three dogs. Surprisingly enough, in that resiliant way dogs have, all three adjusted. Poquito was--thankfully--not in pieces when I returned that evening. 

 

 After mom was gone, I found I just couldn't send him away.  Just as quickly as he'd accepted me tthe first time, he did it again! 

 

The last 10 months have been dog-filled, much to my happiness!  He and Sitka don't pay too much attention to each other, but I think that Juneau secretly likes him!  Poquito tries to play with the big dogs, but they're just too rough (and I make him leave them alone--just to calm my own fears).  And, although I'm not a "little dog" person, I have to say:  this is one huge dog in a little dog's body!  He has enough guts and personality for three dogs.  Despite his bossy tendencies, Poquito is still a lap dog, too.  The minute I sit down, he makes a beeline for my lap and stays there until I get up.  I have worked to socialize him more.  Being a rescue, I don't know what kind of life he had before he came to what I'm now calling Pooch Manor, but he doesn't seem to like people much.  Having people in my house, guests and workers, has really had a positive affect on him. 

And, so, on we go--with much yapping, and hair-shedding, and lap-sitting! 
 

 

The "Tearing Up Texas" Antique Adventure

After leaving all three furry creatures at the "dog spa" last week, my friend Martha and I headed out for our Tearing Up Texas Antique Adventure.  I must admit I am no longer a seasoned traveler, although Martha, having travelled extensively for business, is much better than I.  However, neither of us seemed to have our travelling hats on at first.  Before we could even get out of town, I had to go to the bank--twice.  We had to go twice because the first time I forgot my safe deposit box key.  Then my car decided it was just the right time to inform me that I only had 10% oil life left--so it was on to the quickie lube place to get the oil changed.  Once we were--finally--on the road, about an hour into the trip, Martha looked down and said, "Oh my gosh!  I forgot my shoes!"  She was wearing flip-flops, but left her good shoes at my house.  She decided that flip-flops were good enough, so on we went. 

 

Some "unusual" art in Waxahachie (I think this was made with colored glue)!

 

Over the course of the next five days, we visited Waxahachie, Salado, Georgetown, Fredericksburg, Boerne, Gruene, Waco, and McKinney.  Between the two of us, my car was filled to the brim with treasures!  Waxahachie, Fredericksbury, and McKinney seemed to be the best places for antiques; Salado didn't really have any antique stores that we could see, so we just made a quick pass-by.  Waco disappointed because--being the good Baptist-university-having town that it is--nothing was open on Sunday. 

 

Cute way to reuse old, odd gloves

 

 

Rough and Ready Antiques in Georgetown

 

Martha in Georgetown

 

Typical Hill Country/German architecture

 

One of our favorite antique malls in Fredericksburg

 

Beautiful old Hill Country house overgrown with flowers and vines

 

"The haul" (this stuff belonged to both of us, not just me)

 

Poor Martha had to figure out how to pack all of her goodies for the flight back to the great Northwest.  She did a bang-up job, though, and on Saturday, we lugged (and rolled) her boxes and bags through the airport.  Southwest allows passengers to check boxes just like they were bags, so she was good to go.  We said a teary goodbye in the lobby (well, I was teary--Martha is more stout-hearted than I) and she was off to Seattle. 

What an amazing time we had!   

The big antique adventure

My friend Martha and I took off on our big antiquing adventure today! It took us forever to get out of town, but once we did, we headed to Waxahachie. It was such a hit, we may have to stop on our way home.

We ended up in Georgetown, and after some yummy Mexican food, we crashed. Tomorrow we're headed to Fredericksburg.

My mom

 

Today would have been my mom's 84th birthday.  Although she's been gone nearly 10 months now, I still miss her fiercely.  Just the other day, I was (again) wishing that she were here; more than anything, I miss talking and spending time with her!  I enjoyed the time we spent together.  She was funny and smart--sharp as a tack.  We laughed a lot when we talked!  She always used to ask, "Who's going to make you laugh when I'm gone?"  I don't think that I'll ever find anyone who will make me laugh the way she did.  She was one-of-a-kind!  I was proud to call her my best friend, and I was even more proud to say that she was my mom. 

She was born in Kingfisher, Oklahoma in 1928.  When she was born, she refused to start breathing!  At that time, the doctor's solution to this was to give her a shot of adrenalin straight to the heart.  Happily, it worked, and she started breathing.  Such a dramatic start to life!

Mom lived in various cities in Oklahoma until she went to Our Lady of the Lake College in San Antonio.  Her father was a staunch Catholic--and in those days parents chose both their children's colleges and what they studied.  So, off to San Antonio she went, enrolled to major in Biology so that she could become a medical technologist.  Later she would say that neither college nor major would have been her first choice, but she made the best of things, as she always did, and was quite successful in  the profession her parents chose for her.

When I gathered the courage to speak at her funeral, the theme of my eulogy was her determination.  When I think of her, determination is the first word that comes to mind.  After she and daddy married, she wasn't about to let him renege on his promise to her that he would go to college.  When he wanted to quit, she refused to let him, knowing him better than he did himself--knowing how much happier he would be in the job that his college education would afford him.  Thirty years later, she did the same thing for me--refusing to let me quit Baylor when I was homesick. 

Mom's determination showed in her parenting too.  She always stood firm in her rules, and I never--never--got away with anything.  I once called her "the meanest mother in the world" because of that.  She often repeated that story--proudly!  Mom wasn't mean by any stretch of the imagination (except to my 10 year old self), but she wasn't about to let a child get the upper hand.  Although we didn't fight often, my temper and her determination made for fireworks when we did.  Two memorable battles involved my piano practicing (or lack thereof) when I was in elementary school, and a certain slinky black dress in high school.  I ended up practicing my piano like I was told, and later the slinky black dress was consigned to the back of the closet.  I don't think I ever won an argument with her. 

She showed her determination when it came to teaching me math too.  I was a good student, except when it came to math.  Without really realizing it, I subscribed to the theory that if I wasn't good at something, then I just wouldn't put any effort into it.  When my teacher called her to report on my poor math progress, that was it.  As they say today, "it was on like donkey kong."  Mom took the bull--or the second grader, if you will--by the horns and I learned math whether I wanted to or not.  She tutored me every afternoon before dinner; we even had pop quizzes when we were in the car.  I might not have become a math scholar--or even have liked math--but I learned it!

When daddy died in 1989, I saw her use her determination in order to live a happy life, even though her husband was gone.  The first Christmas after he died, she drowned her sadness in a sea of baking!  She made twenty different kinds of cookies and candy, just to take her mind off the fact that daddy wasn't there.  In the years after that, she created a life for herself, different from the one that she and daddy shared, but a fulfilling, happy life nonetheless.

Her health--despite some "hiccups" was amazingly good until about two years ago.  She started to have one problem right after another.  One would clear up, and after a month or two of relatively stable health, something else would strike.  It was so hard seeing such a strong woman laid low by physical ailments. 

In the days following her stroke, I found myself emulating her determination.  I had to be strong for her, no matter how much I was hurting.  The day before she died, I told her that if she needed to go that she should go; I told her that I'd be fine.

And I am... 

Giving up...and getting organized

I finally gave up on trying to do everything myself and hired a team of organizers to come in and help me unpack!  I still feel guilty that I can't do it all myself, and that I'm spending money on people to unpack boxes, but I'll probably get over it once the house is clean and organized. 

 

My friend Nicolas and I had dinner the other night, and while enjoying Pappadeaux's food, we talked about getting everything unpacked and how much trouble I was having.  One of the things bogging me down is trying to find a place to put books since I decided to use dadddy's study (where all the books were kept) as a studio. 

 

As we talked, Nicolas wisely suggested using a room we call "the gameroom" as my studio.  When he asked why I wasn't planning on using it as my studio, I blithered and dithered and finally came up with, "but it's decorated to be a soda fountain."

 

A little backstory here would be helpful:  when I was in high school, Mom and Dad got this idea to turn our "gameroom" into a replica of an old-fashioned soda fountain.  Over the next few years, they worked hard to gather all the pieces and parts:  the original soda fountain cabinets from their home-town drugstore, a 1946 Wurlitzer bubbler jukebox (all restored!), a restored brass cash register, a penny scale, a soda fountain table, original drug store stools, and tons of drug store/soda fountain memorabilia.  Now I can't really remember what sparked this idea, but they were enthusiastic about it and went whole hog!  When it was complete, it was a really cool place to have parties; to this day everyone that comes in the house marvels at what a neat room it is.

 

It is really unusual, but unfortunately, it is also the least-used room in the house for me.  In fact, ever since I've moved in, the door has been shut and I've rarely even gone back there.  I mean, what use do I do have for a soda fountain right now?  It's not like I'm hosting parties--ever, actually.

 

When Nicolas heard my lame excuse, he just looked at me in that way he has--he's one of those lucky people who can arch one eyebrow to express disbelief (and sarcasm!).  With the dreaded eyebrow-arch out of the way, he proceeded to convince me that my parents wouldn't have wanted me to be bogged down and unhappy by their possessions. 

So...fast forward two weeks:  After spending more money than I care to think about, I only have a couple of unpacked boxes left in my house!  I can't say enough good things about the team of ladies from Organized Touch. Melora, Susan, Joyce, and Callista swept through my house like a troop of organizing angels!  They were so sweet and easy to work with--they definitely made my life a whole bunch easier!  I feel as though I've made four new friends.  If you ever need any organizing, I highly recommend them!

I still have plenty to do.  I need to "settle" into the house and make it my own, but that's relatively easy.  That's the "fun" part.

Pictures to follow (as soon as I charge my camera battery)!!  Oh, and, thanks, Nicolas, for the wise words of advice and the encouragement.

The joy of owning snow dogs

 

For those of you that know me, or those of you that read this blog regularly, you know that I own three dogs, two of which are snow dogs.  Juneau is an Alaskan Malamute, and Sitka is a Siberian Husky.  While both breeds are bred to be sled dogs, the Malamutes are generally considered to be the "brawn" of the team and the Siberians are the brains! 

 

Both breeds are intelligent, independent thinkers.  They are stubborn, difficult to train, and require an owner who is willing to show them who's boss.  I'm pretty sure I fail at that daily!  I know this because right now Juneau is trying to look innocent as he plots how to steal the red vines (like red licorice) that I have sitting on the arm of the chair right beside me.  One time he snatched my mom's sandwich right out of her hand as she walked to her chair! 

 

Because both breeds have been bred to pull and run, they can never be let off leash in an unfenced area.  They are inveterate "runners."  If they get out of the yard or house, they will run.  Not next door, not one street over--they will run MILES!  Well, honestly, mine probably wouldn't--they'll run, but they're lazy in the Texas heat.  If I had video of myself chasing them in the few times they've accidentally gotten out, I could win America's Funniest Home Videos.  Even in a car, it's no contest. 

 

Juneau even got "dog-napped" one time when he got out.  I was experiementing with keeping them outdoors in my backyard several years back--an experiment which came to an abrubt end when Juneau got scared by a thunderstorm and broke out of the yard.  He had some time to roam, and at some point, someone stopped and picked him up.  They took him from Garland all the way to an apartment in west Dallas.  They next day they called me to come pick him up because they decided they were scared of him.  And beause he cried all night.  When Juneau has something to say, he is not shy.  Malamutes do not generally bark, but they are not quiet, as the video below shows.

 

 

If you ever consider getting either of these breeds, because--let's face it--they're gorgeous, you should also know that they raise shedding to an art form. 

 

This is the pile from one quick ten-minute brushing of Juneau.  Sitka doesn't like to be brushed, so she'd never sit still for ten minutes.  I tried to get Poquito to sit next to the pile for a size comparison, but he's a little alarmed by a pile of hair as big as he is.  I have worn out one Dyson vacuum, and I'm on my second. 

 

A lot of people ask if it isn't too hot in Texas for snow dogs.  Not at my house!  My dogs lay around in the air conditioning and have their own fans. 

 

Juneau would actually lay in the fan if he could. 

 

Because they are big, smart, crafty dogs, they are also a tad destructive.  I really thought I had some kind of a record going when they destroyed my old leather sofa.  After reading some other snow dog owner's stories, I realized I am not alone.  One of the funniest stories is the story of Frankencouch.  Check it out on The Thundering Herd.  Find the story here:  Frankencouch.  I laughed and laughed!  It's good to know someone else shares my pain.  And of course, who could forget this: 

 

 

That was Juneau's handiwork.  Sitka also destroyed my Louis Vuitton wallet and an antique silver trinket box--to name a few things.  And those are just from this year.

 

After all this, I'm sure you're asking yourself why I would want such "challenging" dogs.  I can honestly say that I've never loved any dogs more.  They are sweet and loveable, and my life is never boring with them around!

Vintage finds

 

Typewriter ribbon (no, not even the typewriter film that I used in college, but real nylon ribbon).

 

1998 Mapsco

 

1989 Oklahoma map

1989-1990 Missouri map

 



 

1976 travel atlas

 

Users manual for the first cell phone we owned.

 

You see the years on the maps?  There are no newer ones because 1989 was the year my father passed away.  Mom and I rarely traveled after that, so our need for maps dwindled. 

 

Love the cell phone user's manual.  Wow, cutting edge technology in 1997!

Clean up in the spice aisle....

Another tick mark can now be checked off my giant To Do List.  The spice cabinet has now been cleaned, sorted, and arranged.  A small thing, but a victory nonetheless. 

 

The other day I showed some of the things I found when cleaning out this cabinet.  Here's what else I found:

 

I really think this bottle of McCormick "Ground Fancy Cloves" belonged to my grandmother, but maybe not.  All I know was when it was purchased, ground cloves cost .59 and were good for potato soup and cranberry sauce!

 

Here's another vintage item.  Hidden Valley Ranch Blue Cheese salad dressing mix--.43.  Please note that it is artificially flavored.  

 

This is Ann Page brand unflavored gelatin.  Ann Page?  Some quick research revealed that this was exclusively an A&P brand.  I can't even remember when the last time the Dallas area had an A&P store.  I think mom shopped at A&P when daddy was in medical school (yes, the 1950s!), so that gives me a clue of how old this stuff is. 

 

Here's the end result:

 

Beautiful!!

What should I tackle next?  The pantry, or getting all the culled books out of the study?



You might be a hoarder if... (part 2)

Any of these things can be found in your kitchen cabinets:

 

A collection of six sets of salt and pepper shakers, plus five--count 'em--five stray pepper shakers, one stray salt shaker, and four assorted salt and pepper grinders.

 

The world's oldest baking chocolate.  I know that my mom has had that paper-wrapped stuff since I was little because I remember tasting it and thinking it sure didn't taste like a Hershey bar!

The world's oldest marshmallow--found loose on the top shelf of the spice/baking cabinet.  No telling how long it had been up there.  It actually looked worse in real life; it was dried out and dark!  Yuck!

 

The world's oldest onion soup mix.  Another yuck!  Mom had this stuck in a tupperware container on the top shelf of that cabinet.  Another item of indeterminate age--I'm betting on at least 20!

 

I'm pretty sure that some of the spices that I have yet to go through belonged to my grandmother, who died 46 years ago. 

 

Yep, good times!

Progress?

I truly don't know whether I'm making progress on this house or not--or even whether I'm making progress with ANYTHING in my new life.

I think I'm just shuffling stuff around!  Today, I've just started pitching stuff in the trash. 

 

I'm not giving up...not yet!

You might be a hoarder if....

This is your "bin o' pens."  What?  You don't have a bin 'o pins?  Okay, then!  You're safe.  However, I am not!

My serious little man

Poquito is quite content to spend any time that I am sitting on my lap or squished into the chair beside me.

He always has such a serious expression.

Box-hab

Have you ever seen the Internet-famous cat, Maru?  He is fascinated with boxes!  Go to YouTube (Maru on YouTube) and watch him indulge in his passion.

Maru would be extremely happy in this house!  Boxes everywhere!  I'm trying to whittle down the piles, but it's going slowly. 

 

This was the long weekend's work--12 boxes emptied.  I know it doesn't sound like much, but that's 12 less boxes than I had on Friday!  And everything emptied from the boxes has a permanent home--although I may have to do a little rearranging to suit myself later.

 

I also put up shelves in one of the bedrooms for teddy bears and paperback books.  I have moved vinyl records, thrown away magazines, put books on shelves, put away paper, and thrown away what seems like tons of junk.  I finally just moved the city trash bin right outside the door and started tossing stuff.  Just a personal note--use those "just for looks" candles!  If you save them, they will end up melted together in a box and be totally worthless. 

 

 

See that empty space there?  Got rid of three boxes that had made themselves at home here! 

 

I vow to put up the kitchen spices, get rid of five more boxes in the den, and build the teddy bear shelves this week!  Check in and hold me to my promise!