ON MY MIND: MAKING A HOUSE YOUR OWN

This is a Friday photo feature (from Rhonda, at Down To Earth) that anyone with a blog can join. It opens the door to us sharing our lives through these photos and gives us all a new way to discover each other, and maybe form new friendships. Your photo should show something at home that you're thinking about TODAY.

To take part, all you have to do is post a photo, write a short caption explaining it, and link it back to here. Write a new post, don't link to an older one. When your photo is published, come back and add a comment below, with a link to your blog photo. Please visit all the blogs that appeal to you and leave a comment. If you are wondering why no one has commented on your On my mind post, maybe it's because you haven't commented on anyone else's. Slow down, take the time to cruise around and enjoy your cyber visits.

The thing that's been "on my mind" lately is whether or not we owe it to the original owners/designers of a house to keep their vision intact, or do we owe it to ourselves to make a place our own -- to leave our mark, so to speak.

It's time to replace the flooring that flows from kitchen to bath here, and since we planned eventually to replace our climb-in tub with a walk-in shower, we might as well do it all at once.  The question is, should we stick with the original owner's vision of retro black & white, even though, as cute as it is, it has never seemed to blend in with the rest of the house and the surrounding Hill Country?  Or, do I take this opportunity to switch gears, and go for something that says Hill Country Hippie's Cantina Kitchen!

I do remember how much it hurt when I discovered that the person who bought our house in Dallas had hauled the whiskey barrel planter of asparagus I'd babied for three years out to the curb for garbage pick-up, and how insulted I was when the people who wanted our house in Houston said we needed to tear out the tropical island and pond we had created and replace it with turf.  Still, I would not have denied them the thrill of making the places their own.

The black & white plan our uber-talented designer daughter came up with was great...

but as soon as she surprised me with a "Plan B", the dilemma resolved itself.  Cantina Kitchen it is!

ON WITH THE SHOW!

Miss Becky has finally got caught up with posting all the stories you saw previewed here on Seasonality, and is ready to share some new ones!  Won't you please pay her a visit here?

BEWARE OF TROJAN HORSES

After my Valentine's post about the four love dialects, several people sent me links to related books and articles.  One talked about five love languages, and even had a little quiz you could take, to see which languages you best understood.  I could never resist a good magazine quiz!

It came as no surprise that #1 with me was verbal affirmation, with favors and deeds being hot on its heels.  Want me to be putty in your hands?  Clean a toilet.  Grab a dish towel.  Take out some trash!  What was surprising was the thing at the very bottom of my list, receiving gifts -- especially when you consider what a wonderful gift-giver my hubby is!  But, maybe not so surprising if you delve into family history.  You see, it's not that I don't like his gifts.  It's more that, somewhere back in my childhood, I was taught not to trust them.  They aren't always a true indicator of a persons feelings.

We had this one relative, when I was growing up, who was forever being showered with gifts.  She always had the biggest pile at Christmas; her gifts were always the most beautifully wrapped; you wouldn't dare not honor her on any of the official Hallmark occasions; and, we wouldn't even consider going anywhere, or doing anything the least bit fun, without bringing her a momento or souvenir.  Was it because she was just so adorable we couldn't resist?  Nah.  I'd say it was more akin to appeasing the gods -- tossing young virgins into the volcano so it won't erupt.

Soooo, alas for poor hubby, though I do appreciate his generosity, I learned this lesson early on: one should always look a gift-horse in the mouth!

P.S.  Many thanks to obrag.org for the image above.

AN INVITE

Woohoo!  Miss Becky has finally finished refurbishing her new home, and she'd just love it if you stopped by.  You can visit her here.  Y'all come!

ONE THING LEADS TO ANOTHER

I have a new toy.  When we went to the image transfer workshop at my friend Martha's house recently, I fell madly in love with a couple of old wooden trays she had.  The larger one, which was probably used by some manufacturer to keep his supplies sorted, was being used as a curio cabinet on her wall.  The small one looked more handmade, as if it might have been used on some man's tool bench long ago, to sort nuts and bolts, or in his wife's utensil drawer.  It can frequently be found in the background of Martha's artwork, for it is a wonderful way to display the various knick-knacks and images that she photographs for her transfer pieces.

After three years of typing this blog at a desk with no keyboard tray, my body was starting to complain.  The problem was finding a proper computer desk that I thought was even half as pretty as what I had.  Finally John found one on-line that I didn't hate, and we ordered it.  It is certainly easier on my neck and arms, but not only is the desk surface much smaller, the two tiny drawers hold absolutely nothing!

A couple of days later a Pottery Barn catalog showed up in the mail.  Know what was in it?  A big divided wooden tray, just like the one Martha had hanging on her wall.  It occurred to me that it would be a great way to display, not only some favorite bits of old McCoy pottery and various knick-knacks that were cluttering up my few available table surfaces, but also the business card holders, paper clip dish and marker pots that I no longer had room for on my desktop.

Apparently, Dear Hubby has a few ideas of his own.  I reminded him that it was my cabinet.  He just grinned and said, "Yeah, but it's on MY side of the bed!

COUNTIN' YER CHICKINS B'FORE THEY HATCH

I was at the grocery store a minute ago, and when I went to put my cart away, I found this car blocking my way.  I stood there, hands on hips, thinking "How can anyone be so inconsiderate?"  Then I noticed this on their bumper:

And I'm thinkin', don't be too sure of that, Buddy!

LOVE DIALECTS: WHICH ONE DO YOU SPEAK?

Buffalo Woman brought a book with her to coffee a few weeks ago, and convinced me to borrow it.  The books she reads tend to be very spiritual in nature, while I prefer a good novel, and since I had two fat juicy ones waiting to be read, her little book got shoved aside for a while.  I finally got around to it this week -- a bit begrudgingly, I admit.  By the end of the first page, I was completely hooked.

The book, written by Andy Andrews, is called The Noticer, and it's filled with just the kind of down-to-earth common sense that I respond to.  It's about an elderly fellow named Jones who, as the title implies, has a gift for noticing things -- things that others just can't see for themselves.  He seems to wander in and out of people's lives just when they need him most, when they are stuck in a rut they have dug so deep that they just kind see how to move forward.  Once he shares with them a few of the things he has "noticed", it gives them a new perspective on their situation, finally allowing them to regroup and move ahead.

My favorite chapter so far, and one most appropriate for this Valentine's Eve, was about a couple who were headed for divorce.  The two were meeting at a cafe to hammer out a few of the details, when suddenly Jones appeared at their table.  He explained that he'd been watching them for a while, and was certain that they loved each other.  The problem was, one of them was American, and the other was Scottish.  They were both speaking English, but neither could understand a damn thing the other said!  The language we use to express love is like that.  There are several different dialects, and when two people don't speak the same one, it can lead to serious problems, even divorce.  This particular husband expressed his love using the spoken word, and that's also the only thing that made him feel loved.  His wife shows her love through favors and deeds, and no matter how many times he says he loves her, unless he backs it up with favors and deeds, she won't believe it.

In all, there are four basic dialects used to convey and feel love, and to help us understand them, Jones compared them to certain animals.  A canary is a person who expresses love in quality time spent.  A canary says "Just be with me!"  A goldfish feels loved based on favors and deeds.  You can't really touch them, they probably can't hear you, and they don't really care if you are there or not, as long as you feed them and clean the bowl when it's needed.  My hubby is a cat.  Cats are almost exclusively creatures of physical contact.  You don't really have to feed them.  They don't pay any attention to what you say or do.  No point in trying to call one.  Cats just want to be rubbed and scratched.  I happen to be a puppy dog.  I feel loved by spoken words of approval.  Tell a puppy how wonderful he is and his whole body wags.  How do you teach him most effectively?  With praise!  What is most devastating to a puppy? Words of disapproval spoken in an angry voice.

Thankfully, we once knew a noticer too.  He stumbled into our lives just when we needed him the most.  He was a most gifted linguist, for he was able to hear what each of us had been trying to say for so long, and translate it into words that the other could finally understand.  We shall be forever in his debt.

P.S.  Many thanks to graphicshunt.com for the image above.