Mabel's House is a blog about house stuff, with a little life stuff thrown in too. I love decorating, always have. But, I’ve always leaned toward a different ‘style’ than found in typical magazines. No House Beautiful for me, I love the unexpected. But decorating is my second love, not the first.
As you can see from the photos of Mom's painting studio, my family is full of artists. The eccentric kind, to say the least. My cousins and I grew up eating our Happy Meals on Aunt Beverly's dining room table, careful not to drip our ketchup on her latest fetus sketches (she drew them from fetus’ in jars loaned for a doctor’s office… don’t ask me how ). Mom hung cow skulls on the walls of her studio, hauled home giant nude portraits from an anatomy class that gave my 6 year old heart fits, and never demanded that my little sisters wear anything other than diapers (except on Sundays to church). Hippies? Not really. My family is an odd splice of artists and Republicans. It can’t possibly be explained.
I, on the other hand, inherited Meme’s genes (maternal grandmother). We are both clean and organized to a fault. I like all things planned, paid for in cash, and on time. But underneath it all, I’ve been influenced greatly by my upbringing.
I love visiting eccentric people’s homes. I get excited when someone collects wasps nests or empty Tabasco bottles. My home is not eccentric, but I certainly don’t adhere to a Pottery Barn way of life. I long for a different way of doing things. As much as I love my house, and other’s homes, the great love of my life is not decorating. Or art (although I tried desperately until giving up at the age of 10). The great love of my life is writing (note I said writing… not grammar, haha). It’s ironic that something I love so much, have tried so hard for, is something I rarely discuss. Perhaps it’s too sacred for me to blog about, or say tritely, “Oh, I wrote a book” in casual conversation. Weird as it may be, it’s too important for that.
In my heart of hearts, I love the way artists think and live their lives and wish I could do the same. It would make life easier, my writing better. It is impossible to be creative working full time, cleaning a house, paying bills, and watching Scott Baio is 45 and Pregnant before dozing off to sleep. I’m not sure where or when it happened, but life became very dull in the past few years. The shine is worn off.
I do not mean to sound ungrateful, I have too many blessings to count. But my heart aches for a change, any change. Even if it's just a change in me, in the way I see my world. Has anyone else felt that way? I’ve prayed for a change, even though others warn me that it's a drastic measure. But that’s alright. I trust God, he's never let me down before. I'm worn down by commuting over an hour each day, by staring at a computer screen for nine hours a day, by spending my years in a windowless office filing papers. I miss my roots; days spent with colored pencils while mom painted, drippy ice cream cones, minutes and hours and days to think and create. There is something different out there, I remember it. Now if I can just find it again.
I'll be taking the next few days off to recharge my battery, search for some inspiration, and if I'm lucky, write something decent for the first time in months. I make a concerted effort to make this blog happy, uplifting, so I apologize for today's post. The blog world has been a fantastic outlet for me, and you, blog friends, give me the daily inspiration that I desperately crave. I feel certain that things will look up again, but the time has come to sort a few things out (and of course, visit a few thrift shops). I shall return soon.