This Is Where We Used to Live...

This morning I had a doctor’s appointment on the other side of town. On a whim, I decided to drive past the first house Matt and I lived in when we moved to Athens 12 years ago. It looked a little different, but it sure did recall some sweet times.

It wasn’t a particularly impressive house. In fact, it was downright tiny, but it had its charms. It was a little blue, two bedroom house with a bit of a front porch, and a patch of lawn nestled amongst far more stately dwellings in a historic part of town. I loved being surrounded by gorgeous hundred year old homes on tree-canopied streets. And I loved that little house, right down to the orange laminate countertops in the minuscule kitchen.

It was special, you know? It was our first place together. We were 22, poor as church mice and living in sin, but we were excited and hopeful. So many of our big things happened there. I started my first teaching job, Matt graduated college, we got our sweet dog, we got engaged in the living room in front of the Christmas tree.

The big things are special, but I think my sweetest memories lie in the little things. Like our first Halloween. I was so excited at the prospect of trick-or-treaters, and we carved a bunch of little pumpkins in the images of dead rock stars- Jimi Hendrix, Jerry Garcia, Bob Marley, The Beatles. We’ve done some elaborate carvings since then, but those will always be my favorites.

And then there was the day that it unexpectedly snowed, and Matt and I walked through the swirling flakes with our yellow dog down a street that looked like a Victorian postcard. It was one of the most beautiful, magical moments I ever experienced.

I hosted my first Easter dinner in that tiny kitchen, and I was so proud to serve my sister and her friends on my brand new wedding china that had just started to arrive. We started our life in that house, and it will always be dear to me. So when I drove past it today, even though it was a different color and the yard had changed a bit,  it still looked like hope, love, and the eternal optimism of youth. 

Is There a Rehab Program for This??

            You know that story The Red Shoes about the ballerina that gets a pair of red slippers that make her dance beautifully, but she can’t stop dancing? Literally can’t stop at all and dances herself (spoiler alert) to her death? Well, I’ve had a similar situation over here, only it wasn’t toe shoes. Let’s call it The Red Glue Gun.

            I don’t know what it is about fall, if it’s cooler air, the kids going back to school, or the sheer abundance of holiday crafts and recipes that start appearing everywhere, but I start getting the urge to get crafty. This year it was especially bad. I think it has something to do with the fact that all the kids are in school all day and I actually have time to do stuff. And since the beginning of September, it has looked like Hobby Lobby exploded all over my house.

            First it was the dollhouse. I have always had a thing about dollhouses- really anything in miniature, and I’ve wanted a dollhouse for years. Attempting to build one from a kit proved beyond a doubt that that requires way more patience and precision than I will ever possess. So I turned to Ebay and bought an exact replica of the tin dollhouse I had as a child.

            It was great. I made some furniture, it was cool. But not as cool as it could be. So I set out to help it achieve ultimate dollhouse fabulousness. For an entire weekend I glued tiny wallpaper, sewed tiny pillows, mitered popsicle sticks to make window mouldings and chair rails, I even painted tiny pictures and made a tiny beaded chandelier. I think I remembered to feed the children somewhere in there, but who cares if I didn’t? My dollhouse looked fabulous! It lights up!!!

        I thought an entire (tiny) house makeover would quell the crafting urge. Nope. The Sahara-hot days of summer started to cool down, and I made the mistake of looking at Pinterest. Then I discovered burlap canvases at Walmart. Cue the deluge of pumpkin paper crafts, fall leaf paintings, and scarecrow embroidery. Surely that would do it, right?

            Ha ha ha, no fool, of course not! Because the second most crafty holiday in all the year is approaching. That’s right folks, Halloween. Second only to Christmas when it comes to glitter and glitz. And this year, I attempted to take on every craft project that I had filed away in my brain from last year. I painted a wall of Halloween silhouettes. While searching for a haunted house image to trace, I stumbled across awesome paper mache haunted houses people had made. Several hours and 15 pounds of glitter later, I had one of those. Painted wine bottles? Check. Chicken wire ghost? Obviously. I have become a weekly fixture at Hobby Lobby and the Dollar Tree. And walking into either of those establishments has started to cue a reaction similar to a drug addict. My pupils dilate, I start to breathe a little heavier, and my mind starts spinning at all the project possibilities.

           But I’m in recovery. Yesterday was October 1^st, and I put out all the Halloween creations that I had been furiously churning out. There are no longer a pile of paintbrushes drying by the sink, bottles of paint, glue and paper scraps littering the laundry counter, and I swept up the fine coating of glitter that covered everything. I’m pretty sure I have a hunchback, and I have severed all the nerves between my finger tips and fingernails trying to pry up all those little metal tabs that hold the backs of dollar store picture frames. But I’ll be okay. The glue gun burns, wire scratches, spray paint carpal tunnel and glitter lung will all heal- just in time for the flurry of Christmas crafts to begin…