Recently I had the floors done in my entire house. Although a wonderful problem to have, I found myself sequestered in my master bedroom area.

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars…”

To paint, to check, to bleach, to stain? … These were the questions, and I had all of them!

Feeling the rough edges, seeing where a chair has been worn to fit its owner, defines the outline of time.

I’m sure there have been volumes written, and many a word spoken and whispered at parties, about a hostess’s abilities (or lack thereof).

Once upon a time, there was a semi-talented creative who wished with all her might for a business. One where she could express her semi-talent and stop driving her husband crazy with moving furniture, painting walls and amassing the largest personal collection of seasonal pillows and fabric on the west coast.

I have the privilege of living in a small town, the kind of small town where you know your neighbor, need to be good at keeping a confidence and have a few good casserole recipes in your wheelhouse.

For as long as I can remember, I have been aware that a well lived life is our birthright.