music and stress. [all the in the same title! no way!]

oh for goodness' sake.
today's been a flippin' busy number.
i'm nearly ready for this week to be over.
my throat and vocal chords just ache thinking about today, and the next few days ahead.
[we sing on a small stage at the fair --our 6th year, i do believe-- friday for an hour and a half, therefore we've been practicing. yep.]
on the upside, tomorrow afternoon we're getting together with heather, derek, steph, casey, and a few others for dinner and/or hanging out at the county fair.
i fell asleep for a couple minutes in church tonight.
we're running out of coffee.
special run to the grocery: coming soon. :)
i might actually go to bed before midnight tonight.
wait.
i always get my second wind around 9:30-10pm . . . darn. it's hard to resist that, let me tell you.
:P
today, we practiced. then rach and i walked to the county fair [a good several blocks. in noontime sun. have i told you about me and the sun? me and it, we're not friends.] . . . hung out with lovely little friends under a tent, hung out with older lovely friends after that, and i walked home alone in the 4pm sun. practiced at 5. went to church before 6. home by 9. interesting day. good, but interesting. as i said, i'm about ready for this week to be over.
but . . .
last evening, i made french press coffee for the first time. yes! another good thing in my life. ;)
ground trader joe's italian roast beans nice and coarse.
put that in the french press a lovely friend [hanna!] sent me . . . :)
and i even made a video of it.
hah.

just goes to show you, how nerdy i am about coffee.
that, and the fact that the other day, i unexpectedly got really excited when i saw just the thumbnail picture of erika's coffee maker and mug in my blogger dashboard . . .
mhmm.
:)
just thinking about her post makes me smile. and feel a bit less tired.
so, yes.
this is the post with the short, packed description of why i didn't post yesterday.

we saw these cuties, their siblings and their mama, bobbi, for lunch and hanging out.
when we got home, we set off pretty soon after that again --some of us, for the church softball game, either watching it or playing in it; me, to get my hair did, as it was getting long un-spikable; anna, to an interview with a lady who was interested in having her at her birth as a doula.
because the place was booked for hairdo's, it was 6pm and i waited at starbucks with a small coffee and The Help, trying to work toward finishing it, until 7:20ish when i walked through a darkening night and mist coming down.
once again, i'm back to spiking my hair. i'm happy. :)
we just need a fresh supply of coffee in the house, then life will be over-abundantly joyous....just maybe. :)
right now: writing a good friend on facebook and getting timely replies is brightening my night.
oh, and this song.

finally! a new song. and one by ingrid, which is even better. horrid of me to say, probably, but i've never heard this song by her. :)
♥
the end.

artistic endeavors: cream in my coffee.

have you ever tried layering toasted bread, mayo, pepperjack cheese, 3 slices of ham, and lettuce?
well, it's been my latest obsession snack.
and no, i didn't get a picture of it... i was too busy eating it.

this morning i was painting.
big news there, right?
well, there i was, squeezing white acrylic paint onto a plastic container cover . . . and lyd walked in.

we don't live on a farm.
we have, in fact, borrowed a few chickens from dad's cousin . . . we had them when they were chicks, then he took them; the roosters and some chickens got butchered [hello, freezer], and some are left alive. heh.
i could never be a farmer's wife.
i get attached to things. even, slightly, to animals, should the opportunity present itself and a semi-cute being.

chicks are cute.
the end.
no, not the end.
i'm here to post a painting.... right? :)

say toodles to miss dot. er...miss puffy.
i can't keep them straight. lyddie knows who's who.

i ran across some inspiration for the basis here.

stinkin' cute. i'm going to buy that someday.

i don't know what to think of this. it's so dang quirky, and i imagine him speaking in a british accent.

um...this cracks me up.
abandoned stache is a pretty darn talented lady. oh, and what do you know, her name is rebecca too. different spelling, who cares. ;)

and this, i love the shading and colors and what it represents.

[this march at a conference.]

:)
well . . . the rest of this day holds for me:
music practice . . . [guitar and mic for me; drums for ben; bass for caleb]
bible study with anna and our friend anna . . .
hanging out at, maybe, starbucks afterwards, because in a week or so, our friend anna is off to a one-year bible college.
:)

plus. this day is gorgeous.
what more could you ask for in a day . . .

. . . give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
[1 thessalonians 5:18]

seafood pasta. and butter. and memories.

scallops sizzling in butter. just fyi.

I have memories.
I was around 5.
I had two older siblings and one younger than me at the time.
Spaghetti noodles, buttery seafood –er, fake crab, and scallops—and night fallen outside.
Presently, days go by so slow; years go by so fast.
Back then? years dragged by. We called ourselves by halves in age. So excited. So eager. So bright, wondering why time wasn’t going faster because something better was always just around the corner!

  The dining room table, inevitable smeared with grease because of our small, young hands.
Adult hands scrubbing a hot, soapy cloth over the surface in preparation for the next best part of the night.
Dad in the kitchen, Anna too . . . Gram washing dishes; funky glasses and the functional grandma body that was so familiar and always at the right level to hug as a child.
Grandpa Lean, our elderly neighbor who was a U.S. soldier at Iwo Jima when the flag was raised, sitting in the corner in his khaki’s, long sleeved shirt, and tweed or argyle sweater vest. Grey hair and large glasses perched on a large nose above a large smile that smokes those small cigarettes at his house. The place where the coffee table has a pumpkin candy holder filled with candy corn and hard mints. The place where you sit on the low tweed sofa and you smell stale smoke but see the person across the room in his favorite chair, a person you’ve grown up just knowing was next door, smiling with those wrinkles all around and you wonder how the heck did they get there? Oh. From smoking. That’s my childhood knowledge in its stellar setting.

 little david, mesmerized by the media player's graphics the other day. :)

We would always have seafood pasta on new year’s eve.
Gram and our neighbor grandpa Lean would come over. Maybe play checkers with duplos on a woven mat on the freshly-scrubbed table.
Gram would clean the kitchen with whoever wasn’t the first one to play Grandpa Lean on the checkers.
The table was so high, so wide, the people so old, so wrinkled, and I was so happy they were there.
The food was so good, so good we all stuffed ourselves, and I didn’t know the whole logic of playing checkers.

We would wash the duplos in the kitchen sink with hot, soapy water after the night was done.
Old hands that hold cigarettes do that.
I don’t think I stayed up past midnight until I was about 9 or 10.
I just remember I would wake up the next day thinking, I can’t believe it’s another year. I’m almost __ years old!

we added basil and tomatoes fresh from our garden, this time. :) and instead of spaghetti, egg noodles.

that's not a sigh.

i sighed.
little david, wrapped in a beach towel and arranging small dots of purple and green on a math game, shakes his head. "are you tired? because i hear you puffing and puffing over there." he's dad's cousin's son, and quite an amusing chap. heheh.
i look at mom. she's cracking up, holding it in because he's so serious.

"really? no, david, did you know, that's called a sigh." i demonstrated again. "see, that's a sigh."
he doesn't spare me even a glance. "nope. that's not a sigh. that's puffing, my lady."
ah, now isn't that unique.
he's such a corker.
now i'm cracking up.

from reading this and this... i've got thoughts running around upstairs.
maybe i'll write them sometime.

on another note, this ^^ is just crazy. i hope and pray for everyone's safety over there.
hopefully sometime soon i'll get my writing mojo on . . . i've been feeling pretty blank lately, especially when i have the thought of hmm, what should i write for my next post? i should probably just let myself go and write up a storm of nothingness in a word document or something . . . run my thoughts and reach for a random idea of purpose.

food, dance, dreams.

as some of you have probably known for a while now, thursday nights we go swing dancing.
anna, me, and our friends anna, martha, and nancy:)

we left early and met for dinner at cafe centraal . . . i made the mistake of eating the whole sandwich and most of the sweetie fries, plus the tiramisu i split with anna.
oy.
it took a good half an hour before i felt anything less than nauseous and unwell. heh. i should've remembered i don't do well with eating a rich, awesome, whole meal before anything but a nap. :) so, i skipped out on the hour long lesson {sad face} but joined in for the open dancing. never again am i eating before dancing.
on another note, because of all the construction on roads lately, an important exit was closed and therefore we were heading in the opposite direction needed . . . for quite a while. so we got home a bit later than normal . . . 1am. not too bad, i say. :D adventures. they just happen sometimes.
all in all, it was a good night. :)

nap: something that happens to beka once in a blue moon.

4:00pm
i was on the edge of sleep.
i felt it, that beloved fog, surrounding me
surrounding me like water
and i was sinking
ah!
the dream started.
this is what i like about naps.
most people i've talked to
don't dream when they nap.
i do, 98% of the time.
so . . . the dream set before me.
the dance floor.
hands in mine.
older, smiling face.

music rising.

basic steps start.
my right foot goes back for the rock step . . .
and someone yells up the stairs to my bedroom.
i'm awake.

on the rock step!
i was dreaming about dancing, for freaking goodness' sake!
ah.
sigh.
half of the time my dreams get interrupted, i can go back and try to continue them. not so, today.
maybe tonight . . . ;)

All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it.
[Jean Cocteau]

busy day: short post.

i'm cutting sweet corn off the cob and freezing it in gallon bags for when we want a taste of summer when it's cold out.
making corn chowder for dinner.
i'm feeling jittery from the coffee i've had today. i went to bed before one, but read this great post: the torn fabric of being, for quite a while:)
later: going to dinner and swing dancing with martha, anna, and my sister anna :)

also, a killer whale is being bathed in our backyard right now. ^^sammi-bear and my not-so-littlest-sister, lyddie.
crazy fascinating, huh? :)
now i'm reading this: i will love you, possibility.

and another couple posts i plan to read:
he's a tear catcher and i'm a fist fighter but all he asks of me is love.
plank-pullin': the uninspired one.
be different, act normal: apple pie caramel apples. go ahead. click and drool. ;)

search words, and my blog found on the net.

once i saw someone had googled "miraclesdontbreakthelawsofnature", i had to do so myself.
this is what i found.

brand new espresso colors tv/plasma stands.
under "blogs new espresso" you'll find a link to one of my posts mentioning espresso. heh.

scoop.it. creative photography.
links to one of my art posts.

123.people.de.
someone searched for anna rach? well. i've got that covered easy-peasy. older sister: anna. one of my younger sisters: rach. it linked to one of my life rambles.

now . . . the top search keywords:)
hillsong   
carnival photo shoot   
dear god make me a bird tattoo   
aura joon   
me on the swing   
photoshoot at the carnival   
tempurpedic people in ads   
underoath tattoos   
blueprints on how to build a branch bookshelf   
chicken curry rice naan
black yoga pants
freckles [see below picture. heh.]
hillsong united tattoos
books coffee laptop bible

i don't tan...
i do freckles.freckles.freckles!
and a birthmark.

and . . .
i'm off to brew a pot of coffee. anodyne coffee sounds pretty awesome. it's dark enough a roast that it doesn't have me jittery, freaking, and bouncing off the walls inside that caribou's morning blend had me a few months ago; and this coffee is smooth. there are some coffees that practically punch you in the mouth, and that's not a nice way to wake up if you have the luxury of drinking coffee every morning. 8 o'clock have a relationship like that, so i cut it off. it wasn't charming enough for me, even though it was a few dollars easier on the wallet. :P
it's a warm, muggy day. hopefully the last of the season, as it's almost september. one can hope, right? i fall in love with autumn weather every year. the metaphors that spring up in my head from seeing nature transform again in front of my eyes. the golden turning of the leaves. the breeze and the rainy days. the . . . everything.

mom met a lady up north, an owner of a shop that loves art and all that, and the lady actually lives down here, not far from our area. weird, huh? well, last night a few of us stayed up pretty darn late [me? 3am] finishing a couple paintings, typing up a list and details of the art, etcetera. this morning, at around 5:30am, the lady came and picked up 7 of my canvases, some of rach's flower hair accessories, ben's pens, and mom's knitted things... to take up to her shop and hopefully sell. :)
so! that's something new and interesting. 

monday, anna and i met heath and steph at a coffee shop for a few hours. [and derek --heather's boyfriend-- stopped by for a while, too.]

i was starving from having one of those random days of only drinking coffee. . . .
wait. i may have had fettucine with fresh garden tomatoes and basil. yeah. true.
but a bit of pasta and fresh veggies? er...not exactly a stick-to-your-ribs kind of meal.
so there i went to the counter, to purchase a plain bagel with garden cream cheese and a stick with grapes on it . . . and, after that, with my last dollar or so, a medium alterra coffee. as i always say, if you're near to being broke, spend it on the things you love the most. ;)

that says it all.

and for history's sake, a picture of steph and heath. :) listed by the visual, not chronologically. if you cared.
:)

i took these on the way home, monday.
hmmm.

Patience is the companion of wisdom.
[Saint Augustine]

today, advice, and links.

i've been painting today.

now, we're going to see The Help. [i'm still only halfway through the book, but i shall finish it soon.]
i woke up to thunder, and the sound of rain on the windows.
the sun is coming out.
and now, for all you lovelies, i have found a new site!
at the moment, i'm reading
your guidance counselor was wrong: why you don't really have to figure it all out now.
and trying to figure out [in the back of my mind] how and where and the details of the object i'm going to paint on this blue-black background. night sky, but way different than the ones i've done in the past.
i plan to read her top posts.

    don’t take life too seriously… you’ll never get out alive.
-Van Wilder (actually, the original quote is from Elbert Hubbard, but who the heck is Elbert Hubbard? Righttt.)

so . . . i'm going to just link them here to browse.

why it's okay to be lost and confused.

shockingly stupid advice: how cosmopolitan magazine is misleading a generation of young women.

why your college degree doesn't mean sh**.

when it comes to love, could you have it all wrong?

the suckiness diaries: how to survive when life gets shitty.

and . . . i love this: 

Get the ball rolling by asking yourself what makes you feel centered and excited. Sign yourself up for a cooking class or a writing class or start working on those paintings you’ve been wanting to do. It might seem awkward at first, but notice how alive it makes you feel. Just saying.

rambling, wondering, restless soul.

don't you just love the feeling of having to measure up?
eh.
not me.
measuring up to an invisible, undefined but seemingly present ideal or something . . . just isn't the way anyone wants to spend their emotional energies on.

freedom is the result of peace.
that's a paraphrased quote from embrace me, a book by lisa samson.
no matter where i am, no matter where i will be, i've tried to figure it out.
expectations. ideals. thoughts. dreams. should's and could's and would-be's.
but what is?
and wherever i am, however vague i love to keep some things in certain times because for some reason . . . inferior feelings reign deep.
the thing is, i'm trying to figure out life.
what i want to do.
what could and will make money that i can save and give.
what i'd love to happen in the next 2 years, the next 5 years, distant hoping maybe dreams for the next 10.
but how many am i guaranteed?
how many are any of guaranteed?
and how many ideas will change, fade, turn, walk away, grow?
the deep things in life are made of the wondering.
the thoughts. the dreamings. the unknown.
there is greatness to an always-directed life where you can always see straight and there's never fog on the road or detours that will take who-knows-how-long and who-knows-where . . .
sometimes i feel i'm the most clueless person of us all.
i could hope i'm not alone. or i could just be insane.
and i could totally just not press publish after all this.
on the same line as all this is the guest post erika wrote for my blog this past week.
i told her i need to reread it about every other day.
i guess it's one of those days, isn't it?
as bethany phrased it once in a post:

It’s one of those days in which ants crawl around the inside of my skin and I think “If only…” without being able to finish that sentence.

sometimes i thirst for direction.
sometimes i grasp for inspiration.
sometimes i embrace the cluelessness for a good solid 12 hours and wake the next day feeling bright and nearly myself again.
sometimes i wish everything was handed to me on a silver --or at least, brass or brushed nickel-- platter.
sometimes i wish i felt there were more possibilities.
then i remember there are endless possibilities.
but some, i feel, are bridgeless.
and i have no clue how to build certain bridges.
i can see them but have no way, no clue, no details as to how to set out to journey there.
i hope all my word-pictures and vague analogies haven't thrown you off.
cheers with an empty coffee mug to those of you who read through all this.

i'm not even sure if it's going to make sense. i'm not going to read it again until probably.....later. or tomorrow. heh.
i just know someday life's going to change.
and i'll find something good in that, too.
i will.
am i the only person who sometimes imagines herself someday, as a grandma, looking back on whatever i do or don't do . . . whatever i say or don't say . . . however i change or don't change . . . who i love or don't love . . . whatever i choose or don't choose . . . ?
am i the only one?

i love this song.
it helps me breath. brings peace.

be good, keep your feet dry, your eyes open, your heart at peace and your soul in the joy of Christ.
[Thomas Merton]

hi.

large americano with a shot of toffee nut at The Brew.
if you wanted to know. ;)
the a/c in the van is frigid. just preparing for when anna and mom get back from the book store down the street. going to brave the tundra in there once again:)

just wanted to say hi:)
and i miss blogging.
and tomorrow we'll be home...home...home!

guest post: charla.

hello loves:) i'm elsewhere at the moment. i hope you enjoy this guest post,

because i adore charla's blog and i always come away from reading her

with a smile or a new thought. i'm honored to have her writings posted here! :)

♥

I’m going to be honest with you for a moment:

I’m not much for cooking.

Sure, I know how to slap some carne asada on the barbecue, throw some eggs, bacon, and salsa into a tortilla for a breakfast burrito, and one time, I did make lasagna from scratch.  It wasn’t half bad.  But I’m the girl most likely to vote for the simpler things.  If I look at a recipe and see too many ingredients, spices, or measurements…count me out.  I’ll throw some tuna into a bowl, chop up some celery and voila!  Dinner in two minutes.

No, I am definitely not the cook that I know so many women to be…spinning simple ingredients into a beautiful masterpiece.  That’s not me—not yet, anyway.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not still every bit a woman.

I’ll admit that I love shopping, but I don’t love talking about it much.  I’m not like some women I know—sharing elaborate recollections of their mall trips, along with descriptions of all the shoes, purses and designer jeans they were lucky enough to score in their searches.

If I’m being honest, I’d much rather be drinking a beer, watching football and belching along with the guys.  But I’d also have to be honest and say I do pick my favorite teams solely off of how good-looking their uniforms are.

Which is how I know I’m still every bit a woman.

I’d pick a good action flick over a chick flick any day.  Count me in for The Bourne Identity, Gone in 60 Seconds, or Battle: Los Angeles.  Fast cars, guns, and men with attitudes are so much more interesting to me than a cheesy love story or gossipy women in tight dresses.  But that doesn’t mean that in Children of Men, I didn’t cry when the innocent old man got killed.  Or when one of the cops in The Departed got pushed off a building.  It doesn’t mean it didn’t shake me up that the baby’s room was haunted in Paranormal Activity 2 and I can’t promise that I didn’t leave the room while murders were taking place in Zodiac.

As much as I resist it sometimes, I am still, without a doubt, very much a woman.

I don’t like Sex and the City.  I can’t sew.  Once, I attempted to make sugar cookies for Christmas and all I ended up with was a mess.

But I do like hiking.  And fishing.  And demolition derbies.

{you can't see that we were at the demolition derby, but i can promise you...we were ;)}

And there’s something so lovely about getting all dolled up for a night out on the town and catching my boyfriend’s loving glances as we spend the evening side-by-side.

But my honest-to-goodness favorite part of it all?  Coming home and stripping down into my old Rolling Stones tee and letting my hair fall into a mess on my shoulders.  In that moment, I feel the most beautiful.  In that moment, I feel the most like myself.

The truth is

I’ve spent a good part of my life wanting to be one of the guys.

Until one day, in the recent years, I realized that just because I love being one of the guys, doesn’t mean that every cell in my being—from the top of my side swept bangs all the way down to my pedicured toes—isn’t feminine.  And while I would pick a smoky bar over a designer evening lounge any day, that doesn’t mean that I don’t spend large chunks of time watching re-runs of The Hills.  Or that I don’t set aside an hour once a month to soak up the sensations of a long, delicious pedicure.  It doesn’t mean that it doesn’t take me an hour to get ready every day or that I don’t feel true terror when a large, disgusting bug is within 100 yards of me.  And just because I have to be strong sometimes does not mean that I want to be; on the contrary, my fragile strength nearly ceases to exist when I am in the arms of a truly good man.

Truly, I am evidence of what Walt Whitman once said:  “I contain multitudes.”

A many multitudes—and not one part of them limited by anyone but myself.

Which is why I consider myself to be a country music fanatic, but that has never stopped me from dressing up like one of those scene girls and jumping in the mosh pits at metal concerts.

I work at a tax firm, but I should be a professional racecar driver--what, with the way I handle my Toyota Camry on southern California roads.

I have recently picked up piano again, dabbled in cross-stitching, and tried my hand at making homemade lollipops (unsuccessfully, but I give myself an A for effort ;).

I can’t paint or draw to save my life and I have never successfully written one piece of music.  But let me tell you one thing: I can rock the heck out of cover songs.

And while I’m 23-years old, I still love a good teenage fiction book…and two of my most recent literary purchases were “Eat Pray Love” and “F U Penguin.”

I have been a Psychology major, a Journalism major, and a Human Services major, only to become an Undecided Major.

And sometimes, I am a well-put together woman in a yellow, vintage-looking skirt.

But that certainly doesn’t mean that around the next corner you won’t catch me gloating loudly while I beat a bunch of guys at the game of beer pong.

Yes, my being is large and made of multitudes.

And if I’m going to be honest with you…

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

guest post: erika.

hello, loves. i'm still elsewhere, but i'm so thankful and honored
to post this writing from erika. i love her blog, and the things she
posts are full of wonderful writings, intricate, simple, and
stunning alike. i hope you enjoy her post! leave some love:)
♥

"The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."  — Eleanor Roosevelt

I was thrilled to be asked to write a quest post for Beka. She’s such a sweetheart, and she’s become one of the closest friends I’ve never actually met.

When I first sat down to write, all that kept coming to my mind was Beka’s age. I often think how she is just on the brink of so many of life’s milestones. In just the time that separates her age and mine, she could potentially meet a dashing man who will sweep her off her feet, get her doctorate in some fabulous art major, start a family and have adorable, cuddly babies, or move far from Wisconsin to a foreign land with completely new experiences. She has so much potential. She has so much waiting for her, and it’s at her fingertips even when she doesn’t know it. Fate has funny ways of being unrecognizable until you see it in hindsight.

When I think back to my life at her age, I remember always wanting to see what was just around the bend in my future. I’m so very thankful I could not. There were a lot of twists and turns that landed me where I am today, and some of them were not pleasant. In fact I know, had I been given the choice, that I would have run far away from some of those things. And if I had, my life would have been much different. I doubt, though, that it could be much better, even with the knowledge I have now. Just looking at my marvelous daughter reminds me that the road here was well worth it.

The thing is, I envy Beka’s potential and the fabulous unknowns that will come her way, until I remember- we all have it. It’s why a grandmother in her 80s can get a college degree, or why a new career can start at 50, or why an unexpected pregnancy can complete a family of five. There are plans we make, plans we break, and many things that simply break our plans to pieces. But all of these things together are what make life so beautiful.

Wherever you are at this very moment is not where you will be in a year, or five, or fifty. Life doesn’t leave anyone alone that way, and it’s a good thing. You might change into ten different people before your time on earth is over. While it’s good to live every day like it’s your last, it’s also comforting to remember that it’s likely not your last. That there is still time. That there are things undone, things meant only for you.

That is a beautiful destiny.

guest post: whitney.

hello lovelies. me, myself, and i are quite busy soaking up life right now,

so i've got a guest post from dear whitney for your enjoyment!
leave some comment love--she's a dear:)

♥

Shabby Chic Me

Hi there!
I'm Whitney, from According To Waddlebug and I'm so honored to be writing a guest post and for you to be reading it.

I'm a lover of all things old. Vintage. Shabby. Chic. Antiques. Even dead, dried flowers! My love affair with such things started when I bought my first quilt from an antique store at the young age of 13. I saw it, instantly fell in love with it, and had to have it. It was not in perfect shape, but then things of old never are, are they? That's what makes them so charming. I saved my money and bought it. And instantly put it on my bed. What other 13 year old girls do you know that are buying old quilts from antique shops in small towns? (Okay, so maybe you know one or two but I didn't!) I continued in my journey of shabby chic-ness by decorating my room with dried flowers, each contained a special memory, and they still do, cause they're still around at my house! I have collected many things since my quilt-chairs, books, dishes, etc. Most recently, I have been blessed to look through and get items from my Grandmother's house. I can't wait to see what all I have, and decorate my house with it! I have no need to go to Ikea or Anthropologie for things to decorate my home with-I have things of old!

One of my most prized shabby chic items is my AWESOME green corner chair. I used to manage a consignment boutique and one of the houses in the area had been cleared out, and this LIME green corner chair had been put out on the curb. It looked to be made out of a corduroy type material. It was not in the best condition. I eyed it and eyed it and eyed it, and one week went by, then two, then it rained, and I finally decided I HAD to have it. So my best friend and I, one early morning, got into my tiny mustang, grabbed some coffee, and went and loaded the awesome chair (in designer jeans, no less!) in the trunk of the mustang. Thankfully it was a sunny day and it allowed the chair to dry out. And in my garage it went. I wanted to get it recovered, but I had no idea how to do that. Fast forward 2 years and I'm pregnant and my awesome, talented Mother-in-law recovers it for my son's nursery!

I love this chair. It's unique. I've never ever seen anything quite like it! It holds a special place in my heart!

I'm going to continue keeping my eyes peeled at antique malls and on the curb. You never know when one person's trash may become your treasure!