My house, home is far from perfect. It is dirty. Dusty. Dog hair everywhere now. The dog-destroyed carpets are partially cut out while we try and figure out what to do. I have blinds that need to be hung. The leather arms on chairs are destroyed by cats. Wood surfaces have seen too many drinks spilled on them. I need to vacuum (desperately). I do manage to keep the dishes done daily or we would be in a world of hurt. But I LOVE my home. I am content here. I feel alive here. I have all my favorite things here. I know each of you knows what I am talking about.
I can look at every object and know who gave it to me, where it came from, how much I paid for it at the Goodwill or Antique store. Every dusty item has meaning and makes me feel extremely happy, connects to my time in this world, with my loved ones.
With our transitioning from me to the family here and trying to make room for their stuff, their precious belongings, their memories can be pressing. Of course we do not have the same aesthetic, or sense of style. They don't understand the clutter (I call them collections) and I don't understand them sometimes in what they find valuable. It can be puzzling, on both ends. But we must adjust and make room for each other, respect each other's space.
I have decided to start selling most of my cowboy/indian/Oaxacan art that is around the rest of the house. Most of it is just covered in dust and I never see it.
I agree with the AD editor who said she judges a house on if there are books there or not. I think a home without books is just SAD and it does not compute. But that said, David and I had hundreds of art books in the studio that has become the kid's playroom/art room. Bri and I got rid of 80% of those books. Years of collecting. I am sure David was turning over in his grave but it was time to move on.
I have favorite areas. Books. Baskets of colorful wooden block for kids to build things. Little boxes of all shapes to hide things in. Lots of bowls of shells and rocks to pick up and ponder.
We should do a big blog post of our favorite things and each of us post it. Dust and all. I would love to see what others treasure the most.
I think about my grandmother and all the cool stuff she had. She had some of those chicken made from beans, peas and corn art ... you know... I sure wish I had that now.
Below: Feathers sent to me from Texas. Faith finds little feathers, or a feather she plucked from a fallen bird and will send me one. On alligator clips. A moose, from David. A vintage cowboy ad from magazine. Three Indian penny banks, found here and there. Small vintage books, mostly from my SIL. Lots of little boxes with "stuff" in them. David had that duck box since he was in college. David gave me that dark piece of art, it is Girl in a Secret Garden. A postcard of an Indian Chief from my friend. A hydrangea from my yard. Velveeta Boxes full of jars of 'stuff", probably tiny shells and sand.
Basket full of shells, two magnifying glasses, shell book. Rocks and more shells. Poured concrete pots and art supplies.
Lots of great books. One dead plant. Bowls full of rocks. Box full of tools, Matt's tools are all over this room. He has been working right outside. 
Books I want closer to me than the bookcase. Baskets of colorful building blocks.
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