It’s a lazy slightly snowy Sunday on a holiday weekend. Not much snow in the way of accumulation, just Mother Nature giving us a little frosting, reminding us it’s winter. Christmas is finally tucked away in labeled plastic tubs in the attic. Now I look at my house with fresh eyes and as much as I love my vintage ornaments, Santas , and nutcrackers I am glad everything is finally put away. I tried to be better organized this year putting things away, so we’ll see how well I did when December rolls around again. I got a really cool Italian print for my kitchen for Christmas and yesterday I took it and a new woodblock cut my friend artist Margery Niblock sent me (also for Christmas) over to Framers Market Gallery in Malvern yesterday for framing and matting. But adding two new pieces to my walls means something has to give. Which means I have been going from room to room to figure out what gets moved where…and what just comes down. I can always rotate on the walls.
I have been sitting here with magazines strewn across the bed looking for ideas and future inspiration. Originally I wasn’t going to do this today but the family room has been commandeered as teen game central for hours, and after cleaning up the kitchen and oiling the cabinets the sounds of gaming sent me up to look at magazines. Either that or I would start commenting on how is it they can yell “ouch” and “ow” repeatedly when we’re talking about what is going on via a television screen.
(Oops my age and video game intolerance is showing. )
Today I have seen all sorts of just fun ideas and repurposing while flipping through my magazine pile which has been accumulating since mid- December. I just love the ideas and possibilities even if it is not something I will necessarily do.
Old vanity tables repurposed. The beauty of old mismatched candlesticks clustered together.
China cabinets showing up as unexpected storage. An armoire turning into pantry storage in a kitchen. A chippy industrial stool and old signage used as art. Vintage fabrics and linens, farm egg baskets as storage, old white milkglass, pretty vintage books, and more.
Some of what I see in the magazines is too fussy and over the top for me. A great deal of what they stage isn’t what you could live with every day, but taking elements here and there and adding it to your home is fun. From vintage linens to repurposing things as lighting, seating, and storage it’s a totally fun way to pass the time. You can get some fabulous ideas. And you realize how often you see some of what they are repurposing in thrift or consignment shops, garage sales, and even flea markets. These are a lot of the things my friend Kristin picks up for the Smithfield Barn – and there sometimes it amazes me that people can’t see the possibilities… and then I see a similar item repurposed in a magazine.
And yes, I also went through a gardening magazine or two.
All in all it has been a lovely and lazy snowy Sunday. (And Downton Abbey is on later!)
As I begin this post it has no real form yet. A quasi flowing stream of consciousness. I figure by the end of the post the title will find me.
I have written many times before about my transition from being a Main Liner to a Chester County gal. And I am going to do it again. So if you don’t want to hear anymore about this or don’t like a flowing stream of consciousness, turn away from the blog now and visit again tomorrow.
Yesterday my friend Alene wrote about in essence adolescence and David Bowie. She was part of a group of girls I was and am to this day still friends with. Our 13 and 14 year old selves were quite different from a lot of our classmates at the time. And wow what we were subjected to from a pack of mean girls before they called them mean girls.
I have written about those girls from back in the day before. And middle age hasn’t changed or softened a lot of them, and at the end of the day they are still just stuck in the 7th grade hallways with their tight jeans, bad perms and crimping irons…sneaking cigarettes and oh yes stumbling in their Candies.
We (Alene and I) had a bit of a conversation about what she had written on her blog and in part she said
“It’s interesting to me that you got a chance to witness what became of those people, whom I have long since forgotten.” I haven’t forgotten how it felt, though. It is sad. Now people talk openly about bullying behavior in the schools and the psychological effects on kids, but it seems to be universal and timeless.”
I had told her that on some level I felt sorry for these people. I actually do.
These girls affected all of us in different ways but a similarity my friends and I share to this day is those silly girls made us realize what we don’t wantin friends. For years after it also affected how I trusted or accepted people, which translated more simply is in a lot of cases I didn’t trust, I didn’t accept.
I worked to change that. Sometimes I still work at it.
Take my moving to Chester County. Moving and starting a new life no matter how exciting is very different when you’re an adult and middle-aged woman versus young and single. And this move in particular made me feel once again like that uncertain 12 year old who was thrust into a new and rather large school and area without much in the way of life skills to make the transition easy.
Maybe that sounds silly, but when I first moved to Chester County it is how I felt. Excited to be here yet so uncertain.
I have been lucky with this move that over the first years here I have discovered that many people I was friends with for years and years live not too far from me, and I have met a lot of really nice and genuine an amazing new people.
But (there is always a but isn’t there?)….some people you take a chance on are just fated to disappoint. And I have met some disappointing individuals. Not too many, but a few.
No matter what age you are, you will always meet people who will just be uncomfortable because they can’t fit you into one of their boxes of pre-conceived notions.
But today I was faced with a situation that I not only did not know where to go with but definitely at first hurt then ultimately offended me. Not disappointed. Disappointed would have been on the short list of emotions when I was 12 but not now. I was emphatically offended.
Someone I had met over the last year basically told me today we couldn’t be friends because I was…wait for it….a blogger.
Initially I had reached out to her after we met as many of us do today, via social media. Right or wrong it is how we do a lot of our modern connecting. (Maybe we should bring back the calling card?) But anyway.. I never got anything back. So I wondered if I had said or done something. I wasn’t sure what because this isn’t someone I run into (for example) every time I go to the grocery store. So I sent her a note. And what I got back basically made me just sort of sit back momentarily stunned:
Sorry if I offended you. Not my intention. But when I thought about giving a blogger access to my “personal” life, I got concerned…..I thought we got along well, as a public “voice,” you are in a different category.
O.k. so right now a certain group of equally disappointing “grown ups” some of whom reside in West Vincent are cheering at this post. Why? Because I have never been a human being to them, just a target to attempt to pummel into the ground. (But I digress.)
I do not think this woman intended to be deliberately hurtful. But there is no accounting for the accidental ignorance in human beings, especially women. It was hurtful but mostly it was simply outrageouslyoffensive to hear. I had thought I had made an initial friend connection with this person. But apparently I merely (I guess) had a use for a brief period of time?
But to say essentially you can’t be friends with me because I write? Wow so very Puritan New England. Is being a blogger like wearing a proverbial scarlet letter or being branded a witch?
I have blogged for I would say about 15 years at this point. When I first started my blogging was 100% based in political activism. That was deliberate. I had discovered I had a few opinions on politics and things like eminent domain for private gain.
So 15 years ago I would have said o.k. I can understand the fear of knowing a blogger because well blogging was new. But today, in 2016? It’s more like who doesn’t have a blog or online journal? Lordy people there is even a Friendship Blog – seriously – it is written by a published off the Internet PhD named Irene S. Levine about friendships. The author welcomes you to her site thusly:
Friendships are among the most complex but meaningful relationships in our lives. These unique bonds often run deeper than family ties, and sometimes last longer than our relationships with spouses or lovers. Yet there are few agreed-upon ground rules or roadmaps…..Dramatic changes in the ways women live, work and communicate have made navigating the terrain of female friendships even more daunting. This website aims to help readers navigate the awkward misunderstandings and disappointments—as well as the long silences and distance—that often crops up among friends.
I read this website once in a while because it’s interesting and not sugary sweetly and fakely cloying.
……Friendships have always been an important part of my life. I tend to them like a cat to her kittens, nurturing each one as best as I can….
Over the years I’ve tried to learn the difference between friends and acquaintances. I’ve been bruised a few times because I’m sensitive and sentimental, and always try to see the best in people.
During adolescence everyone experiences disappointment of one kind or another. When you are an adult, does this continue to happen?
The difference between friends and acquaintances is this: Friends stand by you through good times and bad. Acquaintances keep you at an arms length, remaining casually friendly at a safe distance.
In my fifties, I am trying to better understand human nature, to learn more about people and why they act and behave the way they do….We all think friendships get easier during midlife, and in some ways they do. We are more self-assured, and less likely to tolerate bad behavior. Yet in other ways we are striving to find ourselves….
There may be people you meet and there’s an instant connection. You form a close bond, and if you’re lucky it lasts a lifetime. Hold on tight; this is worth nurturing.
Tend to them. It’s worth the effort.
There are those you meet for a time and, when life moves on, so do they….
It’s time to let go and move on.
There are those you meet, and for some unknown reason they never feel a connection to you……The situation will never change.
Move on. It was never meant to be….
I am no authority on friendship. I am not a relationship expert, nor am I perfect in any way. But I know what I know from years of trying to be all things to all people as a child. As an adult, and after many disappointments, I’ve become more protective of my heart. And I’ve become truer to myself.
I love my friends, I’ve let go of past ones, and I thoroughly enjoy my new ones.
It’s funny but when this crap happens in life, you feel like you are experiencing it all alone. But thanks to my actual friends and other bloggers in my age group no less I can put this into perspective. And jettison what happened to the invisible list yet lengthy list of life experience.
But the whole thing about you can’t be friends with a blogger? What is that about? Blogging is something I do, it has never defined who I am. It’s a creative outlet for my voice, my writing, my photography.
And somehow I don’t think that is a bad thing. For the most part, I am happy to walk at the beat of my own drummer. Now sometimes I doubt all that and wish I could be more like a lot of women my age. Until I don’t. Today was one of those times. I realized the…well limitations of being limited in perspective.
Am I angry? No, but offended, yes. It will pass and writing about it helps it dissipate in a game of mental catch and release.
In an era when women are corporate leaders and heads of state what does it do to the sisterhood metaphorically when you tell someone you really can’t be friends with them because they are a blogger? Oy vey. I guess to some blogging is like a communicable disease. That is kind of funny if you think about it. Or sad.
Live and learn and let go. (And my post title just came to me as I predicted it would!)
Thanks for stopping by.
Been down one time
Been down two times
I’m never going back again
You don’t know what it means to win
Come down and see me again
Once upon a time there was Waterloo Gardens. Then it went bust and development plans grew instead. The initial development plans and news of a development tore the Devon Horse Show apart and neighbors have been on guard ever since, haven’t they?
Stark in black and white is Waterloo’s former gates unkempt and looking very much like Main Line Grey Gardens
Of course the former Waterloo site in Devon would be a target for development. It is just too juicy to let alone. It’s Chester County but considered the Main Line and well, infill development is at a premium…not to residents of course. Developers just lick their chops at the prospect of such a site.
It’s been quiet around the proposed “Devon Yards“…but no more because up has cropped a public meeting notice…
NOTICE IS GIVEN that the Board of Supervisors of Easttown Township will conduct a public hearing and special public meeting on Wednesday, February 3, 2016, at 7:00 p.m., prevailing time at the Beaumont Elementary School located at 575 Beaumont Road, Devon, Pennsylvania 19333
Surprise and happy 2016! For your pleasure Tredyffrin and Easttown residents you have a public hearing to have developer designed zoning shoved down your throats because what is a developer worth his salt with out a custom designed bad ass zoning overlay? Devon Center Overlay DRAFT Ordinance – January 2016 (Yes indeedy! hot off the presses!)
The behemoth of King Street Eastside Flats. Still a fair bit of empty retail space and unknown true occupancy. These buildings tower over the tiny Borough of Malvern and traditional houses and store fronts. There are some terrific businesses there for now but will they stay? Only time will tell. This development is out of character with a tiny town.
This project is brought to you by Eli Kahn who brought Eastside Flats to the tiny borough of Malvern (and sold). Now Eastside Flats when built was such a jarring square peg in a round hole that the next election in Malvern saw not only a change in Mayor
It’s all a grand façade. The side and rear of Eastside Flats make the building look like no tell motel architecture.
So now in the new year as nouveau neighbors at Devon Horse show flex their muscles across the way “Devon Yards” is heating up again. And as predicted quietly by many, the other shoe is already dropping. Hence the public hearing.
A letter came out from Easttown Neighbors that I received today. EasttownNeighborsletter(00147310). Not surprising and I can’t blame them. If I was staring down the barrel of the prospect of a area altering project like this I would not be at ease or happy.
I am a realist and this land was never going to be a park. You knew it would get developed given the location. But it’s all about the density and why can’t it be a project compatible but that won’t crush the surrounding area?
This project has gotten a lot of press and will continue to. (You can check out what it was imagined as in April 2015 in Philadelphia Magazine). And way back in 2013 there was going to be a small hotel and some retail. Now it’s leaning towards density and a towering structure TALLER than Eastside Flats in Malvern Borough? Yikes.
I do not have to see this from my window and for that I am grateful. I am totally concerned however that yet another custom zoning overlay designed by a developer is up for consideration in yet another municipality.
These custom zoning overlays are just designed (and designed often by the developers themselves) to give developers what they need at the expense of residents. (Sorry that is my opinion and am I wrong?) After all just look at the drawings a developer will bring into a township meeting…any township meeting. Like the Elysian Fields sit their pet projects with no actual reality of true perspective or human scale involved. A resident will go to the meetings and wonder if it’s Logan’s Run and existing residents are being erased because well…you never ever see any kind of rendering that shows what these grand plans and Elysian Fields will actually look like next to everyone else who has the misfortune of kind of sort of being in their way. And setbacks? Forgeddaboutit you might as well be in a city.
So now Easttown residents are stuck with the same conundrum as residents in municipalities before them have struggled with. What do they want their futures to look like and does it really matter because will their local government actually listen to them?
Anyway, I hope residents and lots and lots of media turn out for this hearing. And I hope for once with a ginormous new development what residents want will matter. But the jaded realist in me doesn’t hold out much hope.
Maybe it’s finally time to change the Municipalities Planning Code of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania? Just a thought.
Storage Decor is defined simply as something that has a dual purpose: it is beautiful to look at and provides storage.
We have a modest sized house so storage needs to be creative. Old furniture has new uses.
My first example are antique washstands. You can find them almost anywhere. I see them all of the time in Chester County. I’ve seen them in barns, I’ve seen them at garage sales, I’ve seen them at tag sales I’ve seen them at resale shops, I’ve seen them at antique stores, and vintage repurposing stores.
I have two washstands. They have been handed down in my family and they aren’t particularly fancy and they are definitely more country pieces. Their value is sentimental. They came from my grandmother’s family in Lancaster County.
Anyway, one washstand is in my dining room and it is storage for glassware, table linens, and taper candles. The other washstand is in my bedroom and I use it to act as a vanity table on top and in the storage area it’s a great place for scarves and stockings and purses. I love the old wood of these washstands. But I have also seen them painted where they look very pretty as well. I’ve also seen people actually cut a hole in the top of these washstands for a modern basin in a powder room. I have seen people use them as hall tables too.
My other favorite of country storage decor are trunks. Old steamer trunks and simple country wooden trunks with hinged lids. Old blanket chests.
I have a few of these trunks and none of them are hiding in the attic. I use them as decorative furniture pieces as well as for the practical purposes of storage for which they were intended.
When it comes to these trunks I love the patina of the old wood. I would never paint them. I know people who love to paint any piece of wood they own, but when it comes to these old trunks their real beauty I think is in their scars and wounds of their age.
The trunks I own are simple country pieces. I oil the wood regularly and the patina is so lovely. And old trunks are terrific storage pieces also. When I lived in an apartment I also used trunks for storage and decor.
I see a lot of these pieces I like regularly at places like the Smithfield Barn and Resellers and ConsignIt , Facebook yard sale group pages, just to name a few places. And you definitely don’t have to break the bank to acquire one of these pieces.
Don’t be afraid to bring home a dusty old piece and make it your own in your house. You’ll be glad you did!
In the early morning twilight I can hear them. Just before dawn I still remember what they sound like and see them in my mind’s eye.
My favorite relatives who are no longer on this earth. It sounds creepy but it’s really not. They were very happy part of my growing up.
Maybe it’s a reflection of my 51 years or my inner child needs to let loose once in a while, I don’t know. But when I think of my favorite great aunts and uncles and grandparents and even my father it’s always at those predawn times when I am just waking up.
This morning I heard my Great Uncle Carl talking to his dog Lancelot. When I was little Lancelot was this absolutely gorgeous German Shepherd. He was my uncle’s pride and joy.
I rarely hear or can summon mental images of my maternal grandparents my paternal grandfather. They were the first to die when I was very young, so my memories of them are more faint.
My paternal grandfather, Pop Pop helped me along with my father plant my first tomato plants and our garden’s first rosebush when I was little – the hybrid tea rose John F. Kennedy. That rose was one of the most spectacular white roses. It’s a shame you don’t see that rose very often anymore.
My Mumma, my mother’s mother, was Pennsylvania German from Lancaster, Pennsylvania. She was blonde and blue-eyed and always wore her hair in a French twist. I swear I never saw that woman in a robe and bedroom slippers. She was always dressed with her make up on. She was a great cook, especially when it came to baking. I remember as a little girl she used to make those lemon and blueberry meringue pies with the diner-high meringue. It is also because of her that I learned how to do needlework. She did the most beautiful embroidery. As a matter fact, my mother recently gave me a whole bunch of now antique linens that were made by her and the women in her family.
My Mumma unfortunately slid into horrible Alzheimer’s or dementia when my maternal grandfather, my Poppy died. As a matter fact the last memory I have of Mumma speaking and acting clearly was when she called our house to tell my mother that my grandfather ( this one I called Poppy) had had a heart attack and died.
Poppy had been older than Mumma. He was little and Irish and had been among other things, a carpenter. He made some of the toys my sister and I played with when we were little. Poppy was very sweet. I think I was in eighth grade when he died. When he got tired of too much women’s nattering he would turn his hearing aids off.
When my Pop Pop (my father’s father) died I think I might’ve been six or eight years old I don’t even remember I was that little. I remember the long ride to the church in North Philadelphia where he was buried out of and putting a little bunch of violets in his coffin. And then an even longer ride to the cemetery he is buried in.
But back to my Uncle Carl. My Uncle Carl was a pharmacist. He owned Trooper Pharmacy in Trooper, Pennsylvania. And I still have the mortar and pestle he gave my father. It’s still the best thing for making pesto. He had started out with his brother at another pharmacy they owned that was on the corner of 12th and Ritner in South Philadelphia.
My Uncle Carl and Aunt Rose lived in Collegeville. They lived up Ridge Pike when it was still country, and my grandmother and great aunts would refer to where they lived as the “country”. They lived in a big house and they never actually use the second floor it was so big. They had one child, my father’s cousin Carl who had gone to Annapolis to the Naval Academy and been in the Navy. He and his then wife Linda were so very glamorous to me when I was a little girl – they were quite the striking couple. I loved when we would go to visit them in Maryland. The second house they lived in was this fabulous Victorian in Ellicott City. I think at that time their dog was a Dalmatian.
My Great Aunt Josie used to do her big summer vegetable garden at Aunt Rose and Uncle Carl’s. She would go out there for extended periods of time in the summer and I still remember her tending the garden. Of course she also had a garden in the back of her house in South Philadelphia, and a giant grapefruit tree she grew from seed. The shame of where my Aunt Rose and Uncle Carl used to live is now everything around there is developed. Driving by today you would never believe there was a farm behind them with horses that would eat the apples from their Apple trees and so on.
My great aunt and uncle’s favorite place to get dressed up to go out to dinner was The Lakeside Inn. I believe that is actually in Limerick and I think it’s still open today. I remember one time my father’s family was all gathered there at the Lakeside Inn was for either a birthday for my great aunt or a wedding anniversary celebration.
We were all dressed up and gathered for this party that took over a good portion of the inn. Even my father’s brother was in town with his first wife and however many children they had popped out at the time. My father’s sister, my aunt was there with her daughters and husband.
We never saw my father’s brother and sister terribly much after a certain point growing up. They really didn’t get along with my father and they really weren’t nice to my mother… and they really showed little interest in my sister and I.
I remember a family party at the Lakeside Inn vividly. When I was a little girl it was a very pretty place and I always felt very grown up being there. I remember at the party my father’s brother took all the children downstairs to the gift shop. Only he only bought little trinkets and presents for his children and my father’s sister’s children. It was at that point in time that I really decided I did not care for my uncle even if he was my father’s brother. There my then very little sister and I stood while everyone else were given little gifts purchased by my late father’s brother. It was just kind of mean.
My Uncle Carl, who was always the sweetest and kindest of men somehow got wind of what was going on and he took my sister and I downstairs again and let us pick out gifts from the gift shop so we weren’t left out of being treated. I had that little stuffed owl he bought me that someone had made by hand until it literally fell apart threadbare.
Another thing I remember about my Aunt Rose and Uncle Carl was that was where I first became aware of the sounds of summer on their front porch.
It’s funny I used to look at my friends with big holiday gatherings of their families and wonder what that would be like. I remember it from when I was very very little but then it all stopped and eventually families went their separate ways. It got to the point where we would only see everyone at special family parties, weddings, and funerals. But I hated when I was really little being sent to the Antartica of the “children’s table” so maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.
I remember one holiday children’s table in particular – I was really little and my father’s sister and husband and family were living in a rambling white house in Paoli at the time. It was I think Thanksgiving and the children’s table was a card table with a cloth thrown over it near the front stairs. One of the vegetables was black eyed peas. And that is literally all I remember. Other than my one cousin looking irritated all through dinner to be stuck at a table with the little kids.
It’s funny, you always think you forget things and then there are just these odd quiet times when you remember. Another person I think of sometimes during these quiet times is my mother’s niece Suzy. Suzy died of cancer the same day as my father a couple of years later.
Suzy was like a big sister more than a cousin she was in and out of her house so much when I was little. I remember before she got married she worked at a very cool clothes store Philadelphia on Chestnut Street. She always had the best outfits! Her wedding to her first husband was celebrated at our parish church old St. Joseph’s on Willings Alley. Her wedding reception was actually held at my parents’ house in Society Hill.
I remember during her wedding sitting in the breakfast room off the kitchen on the bottom step where the back stairs up to the second floor of the house were with my cousin Carol eating water chestnuts wrapped in bacon. I also remember the wedding photographer doing my cousin Suzy’s portraits before the wedding in my parents’ bedroom and other places in the house when she was getting ready.
When I was in my 20s my cousin Suzy lived in Newtown Bucks County with her first husband and three daughters. It was always such a big treat to go spend the weekend with my cousin Suzy and her family. We always had so much fun.
Suzy and I spend a lot of our time going to flea markets like Rices in New Hope. We would also explore antique shop after antique shop throughout Bucks County and in New Jersey across from New Hope.
I also think of Suzy sometimes when I put my Fiestaware away. It was with Suzy that I saw Fiestaware for the first time. We were exploring on the other side of the river in New Jersey. We were not in Lambertville I forget where we were. But there was this antique store that almost exclusively sold vintage Fiestaware and they also in a section of the store sold imported Russian nesting dolls. Don’t know if the store still exists but I remember it vividly. I remember row after row of the happy colors of Fiestaware.
I have a lot of memories of my father obviously and him I miss at certain times a great deal. I always think of him a lot at Christmas because he loved Christmas and he was the most perfectionist of perfectionists when it came to decorating the Christmas tree. And my father’s tree was always silver and gold. It was a minor miracle when you could sneak a color on it. I have some of his ornaments still in the original boxes with his handwriting identifying what they are written on the box.
And I had to laugh the other day as I looked at my Christmas tree and Christmas decorations which are still not all put away yet. I thought of him because one year everyone argued over who was taking down what and putting away which Christmas decorations and basically the Christmas tree stayed up until almost Valentine’s Day. That memory still makes me laugh.
I’m glad I have these memories of people who have gone before me. My friends always tell me to write things down when I remember them, but half the time I just forget – it’s sort of like my recipes. I’m thinking and 2016 I should make more of an effort to write these memories down while I still have them.
My second year with my gratitude jar. Such a simple thing.
What are you grateful for?
Maybe changing your life for the better can indeed be as simple as starting with a deliberate change in outlook? Glass half empty? Are you sure? It might be half full on the way to overflowing.
Begin each new year with a gratitude jar.
Throughout the year, whenever the spirit moves you, write down what you are grateful for, thankful for, or count as a blessing. Just use a tiny strip of paper, fold it up and toss in a pretty jar you keep on a windowsill, in a bookshelf, or in my case– on my desk.
“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.”
~ Thornton Wilder
The gratitude jar is a private reminder to you. It’s a sweet and simple thing. I read my year of thoughts and have already added to my jar for 2016.
Creating the jar isn’t rocket science, but the home craftiness of creating the jar isn’t really what the jar is about. If you hang with the jar throughout the year you will find it is not just a bit of ribbon, lace, a jar, labels and itty bitty bits of paper.
Yes, something so simple can teach life lessons.
You don’t have to be perfect. Don’t write something for your jar just to fill it up with little slips of paper. Every once in a while (and how frequent is up to you), sit down for a moment and pause. Let the words come to you. They will. On good days and not such good days.
Share the gratitude jar concept with friends and family. In this crazily hectic world, it doesn’t hurt any of us to pause and reflect. There is even a tiny little Gratitude Jar book now. I also see here and there fancy schmancy glass jars you can buy.
Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions.
Read the book if you like, but you do not need someone else to make you a jar. Not everything in life needs to be purchased. I found a perfect vintage mason jar (antique truthfully) at The Smithfield Barn for a couple of dollars and tied a ribbon around it. That is my jar. Or you can add a bit of lace as in the photo above.
The gratitude jar isn’t or shouldn’t be a prop so people can visit your home and say “Oh what a good person they are!”, it’s something for you. If you let it what you write will teach you about yourself, others, your world. And it will help you to open up to the goodness that is possible. Learn how to cherish what is right there.
Sounds like a lot. Maybe it is. But the point of a gratitude jar ultimately is it is what is inside you already. Appreciate the beauty of every day life, the magic of ordinary days. It’s simple to state a few resolutions that you may or may not keep. Being grateful takes a little effort until you get started…so are you up for the challenge?
Remember, it’s not miraculous. It’s about appreciating and being thankful about what you have and freeing yourself to the possibilities life has to offer.
Thanks for stopping by and Happy 2016!
Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let every new year find you a better man.