Showing posts with label collections. Show all posts
Showing posts with label collections. Show all posts

Jul 3, 2013

Precious Project in the Making



I have this beloved old wooden box with its original gray, weathered paint still on it, that I find myself "displaying" it instead of tucking it away out of sight. While I know it is the "in thing" with artsy gals to love the old, the chipped, and the worn, but I didn't grow up that way at all. Something like this, my mother wouldn't have allowed in the house. It may not even have made it into the shed, but instead, straight into the garbage can.

But I digress. 

As I am still on my new, little adventure, which I will be able to share with you in the near future, this box does play a part of it. As I sort through my various treasures, of all kinds, I needed to find a place for those few lost souls, that I couldn't part with, but I am sure, I "will need them for a project." But I am trying very hard to organize and sort my treasures and really eliminate those that have been waiting for such a project for years now, and let's be honest, some of those projects I am either not interested in any longer, or they aren't "me" any longer, or, I just can't remember what the heck that fab project was going to be in the first place!

But for those few trinkets, that I am still convinced that belong within arm's reach for that sudden spark of frenzy when I am sure my next idea is exactly what I need to do...I needed a place for those trinkets that I never tire of because if at the very least, I love to look at them, touch them, and remember where, when, and how I came across them.



Sometimes, I think the older I get, the more simpler I get. Not to be confused with simple-minded, mind you. Although, there are those that may argue that. And it seems that the more complicated the world gets, the more I rebel against it. The elderly are becoming a lot more understandable to me in their way of thinking as I get older, it seems. I remember hearing dad, sometimes grumbling about the world, and its lack of morals, or how people just don't talk to each other anymore (ha! way before the invention of cell phones and texting!). But then again, he rode his mule to school and graduated with only 12 kids from a one-room school house in rural Nebraska. But for the most part, he adapted pretty darn well from riding a mule to owning a Harley Davidson for about a week when I was about 13, for what I am assuming was his very short-lived mid-life crises that mom quickly ended.



But I digress again...


I remember one time, many, many years ago, while living in Texas, when I was seeing a wonderful counselor who was helping through a very difficult and painful time in my life, he had me do a break through exercise. It was the coolest exercise...



Here you do it and then I will explain:

Have someone read the following to you, you need a partner:

(In order for this to really work, you HAVE to stop reading right now, and go find someone to read this following. If you read ahead to my experience, then your experience will be tainted, and I promise you, you will be mad at yourself, because this is such a cool exercise, and you will have ruined it for yourself...so stop right now...come back when you have someone and the time to do it...it really is cool!)

Have your partner and you get relaxed and have her/him read:

Close your eyes and relax. Now imagine a box, any kind of box at all.(Pause) Take your time and really, really study your box and really see it. Don't rush, take your time and really see it. Do you see it? (Pause) Study it really well. You got it in your head? (Pause) What size is it? What is it made of? Where is your box? After several minutes of really seeing your box, keep your eyes shut, and just watch it for a minute or so and see what the box is doing.

Now, look inside your box...what do you see? Look around inside and really study what you see. Describe in detail what you see. Does it have a lid? Look at the inside of the lid if it has one. What do you see?  

Now before you leave your box, take note of the environment around your box. Is it outside, inside, the weather, anything you notice all around the box...scent, noise, everything that has been going on the entire time around the box...

Okay...open your eyes and tell your friend exactly what you experienced that you didn't already share...starting with the beginning of this exercise. Go over the list of things I asked you about your box and go over in lots of detail...take notes...


I may have forgotten some of the exercise, as it was years ago, but I will tell you what I saw, as I will never forget. Remember, I had no idea what this exercise was for or for what reason we were doing it...this is how I described my box at that time:

My box at that time was covered in precious jewels, emeralds, rubies, diamonds and covered in gold. When I opened it, it was lined with purple satin, but there was no bottom, and it was floating, actually, sort of being whipped around a little in the wind. Inside there were tons and tons of papers that were falling out of the bottom, one by one and flying away. I wasn't grabbing at them at all. When asked to look at the lid, there was a mirror and when asked what did I see, I saw myself! I was just normal, not crying, not laughing, just looking. The sky was blue and sunny. The box never landed or crashed to the ground.  



Okay, what does this all mean? The exercise is to help you sort out that whatever you saw inside, is the answer to whatever personal issue you may be having. You (or the counselor) will have to decode it. How you described your box, is how you are currently feeling about yourself at this moment. What your box is "doing" is how you feel about your issue and how you feel it is taking place in your life. And other details can tell you (or predict) how you are going to (or may) handle your issue. So now that you saw how much detail I had, go back and fill in any other details you may have left out before you read on.




Well, I can only tell you how my therapist decoded my descriptions, and it helped me more than I ever thought a silly exercise ever could for self-awareness:

He said that he was extremely happy that I described my box with so many "precious jewels" and gold...that meant that I still valued myself and I had felt I had self worth (I had been going to therapy almost year, and that was not the case when I first started). He said he liked that I used the word "precious jewels" and not just "jewels"- which words we actually use to describe this exercise really tells us things about ourselves. The purple satin inside meant that I hadn't turned hard like I thought I had (something I worried about at the time) and "purple" which was not my color at the time (nor now), but a color of royalty, meaning that my heart was still true, pure, even though I felt I had been tainted by this hard and painful season. He was trying to show me that my real self had not died. I remember tearing up when he had told me that, and he said, he hadn't told me that, I was telling myself that with my very own words...

He said that he was not surprised to hear that my box did not have a bottom, as my problem still seemed overwhelming to me and not having a bottom means I was feeling that my issue would never end. But when he asked what was I doing, I was only looking at the papers...not interfering with them...which is good, letting life take its course. So you see, what you were doing is important in the exercise too.

However, he felt very encouraged that my box was in a bright, sunny, blue-sky environment, which meant that I was more hopeful about the future than ever before. However, it was whipping about somewhat, but not blown apart. That shows that I am still anxious but not out of control. The box was in tact, and showed no signs of falling apart (he asked me during the decoding session if the box showed any signs of weakness, and it didn't).

He said he felt very happy that I wasn't grabbing after the papers that were falling out one-by-one. He said he had wished they were falling out at a much faster pace, which would have meant I was shedding my hard season of life quicker, but they were leaving the box all the same, and I wasn't grabbing on to it, thinking I could still save/do/change/ the situation. I was letting go.



And finally, he said the good news is, I was realizing that my hard season of life was almost over, and it was up to me to move on - hence my reflection in the mirror. I am the answer to moving on. No one else but me can do this. He was glad that my reflection just showed me...no one behind me, no shadow, me not crying, just me. That meant that I was willing and able to handle this on my own. 

These are all subconscious thoughts I was having, which showed me I had more strength than I realized and helped me to grow in that moment.





I was so impressed and excited with this exercise so many years ago, I remember doing this exercise on my brother. Of course, he had no idea what this exercise was about, and I just said, "hey, do something for me..." and I had him relax and did the whole thing and did it very slowly and so on. My brother had just been through an emotional divorce, was trying to get back on his feet, and tends to keep things to himself. He tried to pretend that all is well by joking all the time, but this is what he told me about his box:

Here is how some of it went:

Me
Imagine a box, any kind of box. Got it? See it?
Okay, tell me about your box.

Brother
It is a cardboard box. Sort of medium size.

Me
What else? Is it a strong/sturdy box?

Brother
No, it is beat up. Dented. Like it was kicked around

Me
Where is your box?

Brother
In a garage

Me
What kind of garage?

Brother
I don't know, it's pretty dark

Well, you can see where this is going! He went on to say it was empty. Nothing inside, and so on. He was floored when I told him what the exercise was about. And very eye-opening to him, as he was convinced he was doing okay, but actually, I could see he wasn't. And he then could see he needed to take better care of himself and do some things to make himself happy again.



Where am I going with all this? Well, I am not sure, except all I know is, that when I got out my beat up old gray box with my trinkets, I had very strong sense of contentment. And for some strange reason, admiring its rough exterior, its very sturdy bottom, and feeling its heavy weight as I placed it in a very happy, new area, I had a flashback of that box exercise so many, many years ago during a season of pain. 

And how ironic that during that season of pain, I described a jeweled box of gold, lined with satin. And now, during a season of contentment, joy, and happiness, I should find such pleasure out of a rough, worn, old, wooden box filled with old things. But this season of happiness is following a short season of much, much physical pain and some unexpected changes in life. 




And maybe, this time, at this moment in life, this box just simply means that a little worn and a little rough on the outside, only means there is a really precious project in the works on the inside.

And maybe that is my true project...

May your precious project always be in the works from The Greatest Protector of all...Christ who saw me through all of my life projects.

from my house to your house



Signature

Mar 21, 2013

Big Girl Playpen


Big Girl Playpen


Ever see a content toddler in a sandbox? Or a little one banging pots and pans completely happy with nothing but a wooden spoon? Well, I don't think we ever really grow out of those moments. We just either overlook them, or we are convinced our "toys" just get bigger, more costly, and just don't keep us occupied enough to justify the time and energy to engage them.

I am getting my camera back in hand, and I am discovering "toys" all around me, which is nice, as I really need to sit a lot on the sofa, with my knee still secure in a brace for hours at a time. So, I find my "playpen" to be wherever I happen to be, and in this case, it was on the sofa of my good friend's home, Debbie Dusenberry. One early evening, she had fabulous light coming in near her fireplace, and I found all sorts of "toys" to play with within arm's reach, and out came my camera...











I shot these photos in an "old world" style, as I am craving old England lately. My barber husband and I have been online watching some fabulous documentaries and I realize how I so miss certain design elements of the old world that I experienced while living in Europe. And this chair, the plaster, and the sun coming in as it did, gave me a moment of playtime and some daydreaming as though I were living in another era for a moment.











I think sometimes, we forget that the simplest objects around us are made beautiful by the simplest of all things: sunlight.



Sometimes, I wonder if dawn and dusk are mother nature's Botox...




...because no other light could make a simple oil can seem regal. 







I think old objects get even better with age. I am not one to want the new and the shiny. I think because I like a good story and the new just haven't been around long enough to collect one. I hope you enjoyed my little playtime with my "toys." I took several more photos that I may share with you later. It is very late, and I realize that I am still "playing." 

My mother used to tell me often that I was a "night owl baby." She said I would wake up about midnight and yell from my crib, "Hey! Hey! I want to play!" And my dad said I would keep yelling this until one of them would pick me up and carry me downstairs to a special playpen that they set up just for me for my night owl outings. Mom said they could hear me banging, and laughing and gurgling all night long, all content. Then about 5AM, she said, my banging of toys would get slower and slower, as I finally nodded off, just in time for them to wake up and come down and get me to take me back upstairs to my crib again. She did everything she could, she said, to get me to sleep. I would be up again about 8AM, playing all day long. I have been this way my entire life...a true night owl...playing long into the night.

Except I don't bang around so loud now...more like tapping on my keys of the computer. But in my head, I do feel like yelling sometimes late at night, "Hey! Hey! I want to play!" But my barber husband isn't a night owl...heck he is barely a dusk owl! So, like my toddler days...I play contently alone late at night and I am happy. It is quiet (but no Botox sunlight to play with!) and peaceful.



Here is to your playtime - day or night. No big toys needed...just a little playpen and some time to look around a bit...and then go have a ball...or two, or three...or...

from my house to your house,
Elizabeth

Jun 8, 2012

Moments of Yesteryears Today

Hello!

Today I thought I would share with you some of my metal utensil treasures.

I say "metal" and not "sliver" because while a lot of what I have is silver, a lot of it is also silver plated, some are pewter, some are bone-handled and some, I really would just have to guess, because I just let the stuff tarnish beyond recognition.  However, I collect pieces here and there, and yes, I truly use these beyond just photographing them. What I admire so much about these little beauties is the weight. Something about holding them as I butter a roll, or stab a piece of meat, or spoon out a little jam, it just feels so neat to have such a weighty utensil in my hand as I do such a simple everyday task.





This is my little silver sugar bowl filled with assorted butter knives, that sits upon my counter, near the coffee area where I use these daily. I love to be able to grab them for all sorts of reason....to open up a flip-top can (my nails are too weak), to butter bread, to stir something, spread jam, you name it. I have had these for so many years, I can't count. 







Once upon a time, these utensils were brought home brand new, and with excited hands (from a bride perhaps?) they were unwrapped and carefully placed into the china cabinet drawer. Now, we can find these little gems in antique stores for only a few dollars each, depending on the quality, make, and so on. 





But in our very fast-paced world where I think most people crave to slow down, I think finding little ways to bring the past into our present helps us to remember that while today isn't bad, in fact, today is so good, we should maybe slow down so we can enjoy  our present moment all the more.





But the irony in all of this, I think, is that while I take great joy in using these old items of the past to slow me down, I am almost sure that some bride or excited wife of the past, was probably in a great rush to get these exact items onto her table, washed, polished, and ready in time for her guests.

Have times really changed that much? 




While the women of the past might have used these items in a rush just as much I try to use them to slow myself down, I feel a little happier using them.

Maybe it's the weight of them...?

Maybe it's the history...?

Maybe it's the fact that I hand wash them after I use them...?

Or maybe it is just the simple fact that I can pick and choose which pattern I feel like using...?




I think the most important thing is that these lovely little ladies are used just about daily. I personally don't "collect" just to collect. Using what I own is really important to me. It gives more meaning to me personally when my treasures are enjoyed with much use and not admiration from afar, stored safely away. 






And maybe that is it right there...maybe that is wherein my real joy lies. My joy is not in collecting, not storing, not admiring, not securing them, but rather in using and in sharing them. 

Over the years, I have been told that if I use my items, I will ruin them or chance breaking or losing them. Whether it is my very old linens, ironstone, silver, vintage clothing, and so on. 






And they were right. I have chipped a plate, stained a table cloth, misplaced a fork, and ripped a vintage top.  But with each  incident, there was a story. 

A good story. 

Usually a party, a gathering of friends, or a fun dinner with a loved one. A story that makes life the kind of life worth slowing down for.






Slowing down doesn't mean escaping. It doesn't mean looking back. It simply means being in the moment without being so concern with the next moment.

You know, it just isn't possible for most of us to just stop our lives, pack up and move to the mountains, and leave all the noise, violence, cultural white noise (as I call it), problems, and shut the door behind us. 

And if we are content and happy in this season of life, then all the more reason to slow down and enjoy this time in our lives before it passes. 

And if all it takes is using a little, antique butter knife to butter my biscuit and a French spoon to dab on some jam to put me in the moment just to the feel the weight of the utensils, and to feel how the butter just glides ever so smoothly onto the old butter knife...

...well, then being in that moment is worth slowing down for! 

I have to ask you..when was the last time you truly noticed how fresh butter really glides so nicely onto your butter knife?

If you can't remember, then I challenge you to pick up some freshly made butter, and let it sit on the counter to soften a bit, and then get some fresh bread, and feel just how great it is to slice a really nice butter knife into fresh butter and see how pretty it looks as you smooth it onto the bread.

The moment you do that?

Is the moment you realize just how good it is to slow down for the tiny moments in life and not wait for the big things like vacations or holidays. 

It is these tiny daily moments that keep us all present, I believe. I hope taking this moment with me today was worth it for you, as I always feel my moments with you are always well spent.

From my house to your house,



Signature

Jul 3, 2008

"How Interesting!"


Welcome! Around my house, I have quite a few objects that could be considered "conversation starters." Which is ironic because I am not one really needing anything to start a gab fest. In fact, I find that my favorite topic is asking questions about the other person's life and their goings on. Which just now reminds me of a funny little story that I have to share, and I will keep it short....

Many, many years ago, while living in Germany, my ex-husband worked with several colleagues and I encouraged him to invite them to go out with us, as I was always excited about meeting new people. And being only 22 and living in Europe, everything was exciting to me. One evening, a colleague and his wife were to meet us at our apartment and the four of us were to go out to dinner. I have never met this American couple before and after the usual polite greetings we headed out to the car. The woman (I can't even remember her name) seemed "shy" and so I just began asking the usual questions such as: How long have you lived in Germany? Where are you originally from? Have you had the chance to travel anywhere yet? And she responded crisply with one-word answers: "One. Ohio. No."


She didn't look mad, or ill, or uncomfortable. So, in my excitement, I decided that she was indeed "shy." So I set out to make her comfortable during our short drive to the restaurant. I gave her a little info about us and then back to my questions: How did you meet your husband? How long will you be living here in Germany? I am learning to make ceramics, do you create any crafts? She finally shot me a look that could kill and said very sarcastically: "Hey! I got an idea, why don't I just write a book about my life and then you can read all about it."


Okay, I may be a little dense at times, but she made it very clear to me that she was not happy about our little outing. Dinner was uncomfortable to say the least and at age 22, I didn't have the life experience to realize not to take it personally. At that age, I didn't have the compassion to think that she had an issue which had nothing to do with me. I was very offended. If there was ever time I could have used a "conversation starter" it would have been during that painful dinner. I can laugh at it now, because it really was funny when I think about it. I am sure I drove her nuts, and she most likely just had a huge argument with her husband just moments prior to arriving at our apartment. Oh, and just to finish the story...we skipped dessert and I have no idea what happened to them because we never went out again. Moral of this story: Never let anyone keep you from ordering dessert! :-)

Well, back to my real reason for this post. I wanted to give you a little sneak peek at a conversation starter that was extremely popular in the Victorian era. In the August issue of Romantic Homes, I produced an article on Victorian Parlor Domes. My friend, Richard Cottrell, owns about 50 of them! Most of my blog postings are about my women friends, women business owners, and supporting women. But let's not forget about the important men in our lives. I have met and befriended some wonderful business men over the years that were kind, considerate, and so very helpful and encouraging to me and I consider Richard one of them.


Richard owns a beautiful antique store, Antique Center of St. Louis, along with his business partner, Louise Harre.





And if you are ever in the St. Louis area, his store is a must! Beautiful chandeliers, silver, mirrors, furniture. His store is what I like to call "a real antique store" only because he leaves his stuff alone - his items are "pure" where as I paint anything that stands still long enough. Even if pure antiques aren't your thing, you must stop by and see Prissy - his old Basset Hound who can be found (and heard) snoring beneath Richard's desk.






Richard's store always has several domes and I really knew nothing about them. When he explained he has a collection, and after seeing them, I just had to photograph them! Historically, a proper Victorian parlor would always have a dome to which visitors could comment upon and be impressed. "How interesting!" a guest may politely say to the hostess and thus the conversation begins. To read more about these fabulous domes, their history, and to find out which one is Richard's favorite, you will have to go out and get the August issue of Romantic Homes!


I have not seen the August issue at this time of posting my blog, but I will share some of my favorite shots with you. I would like to add that Richard's collection of domes are housed in his historical home in a little town of Clarksville, along the Mississippi river. Yes, the town experienced the flood. Richard's historical home was on the front page of the paper and it showed an eight foot tall wall of sand bags surrounding his entire property. Richard's property is directly across the street from the river. I spoke with Richard today, in fact, and his home survived. The basement flooded and the yard is trashed, but his home, and his treasures, are fine. Richard is also fine, but tired. His town was saved but surrounding towns didn't fare as well. I don't live near the river and my area was never a concern. Our prayers go out to those who are struggling with putting their lives back together.

So, please, enjoy the photos below, read the August issue of Romantic Homes, keep the flood victims in your prayers, hug the special man in your life, and have a safe 4th of July. No matter what struggles we all may have, I wouldn't want to struggle in any other country than our own. How lucky are we to live in a country with so many freedoms? We even have the freedom not to like our own country, if we so choose. But I happen to like it. A lot. And for a lot of reasons. Now that's a conversation starter fit for Independence Day! :-)

From my house to your house,
Elizabeth
www.elizabethhouse.us
Richard's store, Antique Center of St. Louis, 4732 McPherson, St. Louis, MO, phone: 314-367-0588





Below are a couple of "artsy" photos that I took in an unfinished room of Richard's historical home. It was the light that came through the huge window that caught my attention. And of course, I loved the old, cracked walls. I loved this room, but I am afraid Richard will be horrified that I am showing it. Don't worry, Richard, you couldn't have a mess of a room if you tried. Even in a flood. Love you!





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