Ah rain.    

Soggy blue jean bottoms and squeaky flip flops.  Frizzy hair and cold wet shoulders.  

And, the need for organization and change... 

In my den and living room and kitchen and bedroom and bathroom.  The girls are at their babysitter's house and I have little projects running around in my head.  I am taking advantage of time alone at home today and getting down to the nitty gritty dusty corners in my house.  A friend and I were talking last night and we both agreed but don't really know why new seasons spark such desire for change: in wardrobes, decorations, and possibly attitudes and spirituality.  I guess the galaxy is wired for never settling in any situation for too long.  

Last week Nick and I cleaned out our closets and decided what garments stayed and which ones to donate.  Yesterday I switched around pictures, mirrors, and table centerpieces in hopes to re-admire old pieces in my home while I can't afford to buy new ones.

Most of the furniture and knick knacks in my house are "hand me downs."  When I look around, I can tell you what divorce, death, or donation each treasured piece came into my home as a result of.  For example, my dining room table, china cabinet, and buffet came from my dear sweet grandmother after she died a year ago, or has it already been two?  There is a painting in my living room that my great great grandmother painted over 100 years ago.  The dresser and bedside table in my guest room was my mother's growing up and mine growing up also.  Both couches in my house came from Dad's house after his divorce and the club chairs that have rotated from living room to bedroom to now, the den, were given to me when my mom redecorated her home.  Then there are the drapes in my dining room and the floral print in my bathroom that hung in my bedroom when I was a single gal living in Old Cloverdale.  When I walk in each room in my house I have a memory attached to the pieces that give the room life.  

My family and my things are what make my house my home.