Baptism by fire

Stuff EVERYWHERE! The cats are totally bent out of shape.

Here we go, folks! Dorsey recently posted on the Wilmarth's Tin Cats web site that everything is about to get real ... his perspective.

Of course I get my two-cents worth.

I've been told by fellow dealers I'm getting to know that I'm nuts for debuting our business at a show like Round Top. It is, after all, HUUUUGE! And a big deal. And respected.

And lasts for six days instead of the usual two to three!

Here it all goes, then. Call me brave, call me stupid. It's happening.

I'm totally stoked about this late 1700s hutch table from New Hampshire. If it doesn't sell in Round Top, well, darn, I guess I just get to live with it for a while. :-)

I have spent the last several months plotting and planning my merchandise. I have had all of my "smalls," as we call them in the business, and quite a few furniture items, but my main pieces, the ones I've been extremely excited about, finally arrived after a touch-and-go, nerve-wracking few weeks of truck driver serious illness, bad Louisiana flooding and broken trailer parts. Still ... it's all good now. Besides, what would life be without drama ... always some drama.

I love the grain-painted mustard dry sink (top left). The top right shows a celery painted hanging cupboard.
The green-painted basket and tall wall cupboard came from my new friend in Sedona.

Arizona finds. They all came from New England, of course, but I found them in AZ.

And I found a few bonus items on an unexpected trip just the previous week when I traveled to Arizona to see Jordie pitch in a Tucson baseball tournament. Who would have thought? After all, my stuff is early American, mostly country antiques. Arizona wasn't even founded until 1912 ...

During the first week of March, I set out to get everything on my checklist for my booth and the trip ... much of what was learned after we visited the Round Top Winter Show in January, and from my mother-in-law's vast experience.  My new dealer friends have given their input, too.  Wall paper, tool kit, lights, packing stuff, hooks, nails, screws, signs, bags, various tapes, tax registration info, receipt book, pens, money, tape measure, step ladder, rug ... and all kinds of things I would never think of on my own.

This past week has found me battling a migraine (thank you, West Texas wind) while enduring my torn up house and packing for the show. (Not to mention Dorsey was gone a day or two for job interviews ... still working on that.)

Two kitties think they should go, too.
Socks is guarding all the tools and other important things.

Oh, and then there's the whole planning-what-am-I-going-to-wear-for-six-days-straight? To me, that's the worst part.  I hate packing. Really, really, really hate it. What if I forget something important, like the hanging clothes that aren't packed in my suitcase? Which black sandals do I take? The strappy ones or the wedges? Or both? Both pairs of boots or one? Will this top look OK with that skirt? What about these jeans? Boot-cut or narrow? How about a couple of each? Ugh!

Dorsey picks up the U-Haul trailer in the morning, and we load, with the help of a friend. That's when we run through the checklist one more time and then hit the road. I'm glad to have Dorsey with me this time. That trip to Arizona (and back pulling a trailer) by myself was quite a drive and an adventure!

We'll spend the night with Kim and Vince tomorrow night in Flower Mound and then head on to Round Top Saturday for set up. The show starts Monday. (I still think it's strange this is all happening Easter weekend ...)

And meanwhile, our friend Carmen will be holding down our fort and taking care of our crazy herd.

What a strange new world this is!

Saddest but best lesson learned about grief support

Sadly, I have reached the age when others in my age range also are losing their parents. It's just the cycle of life, I know.

But that doesn't make it any better or even OK.  I have discovered in the two years of watching my parents suffer and then pass that not much is harder than this process. Not much rivals the difficulty and the grief of becoming an orphan, even at the ripe old age of 46. I believe I have said this before, but there is something childlike in all of us that reappears strongly when we lose our parents.

We always want and need our parents. If the relationship has been a loving and healthy one — even with the typical dysfunctions — or if the relationship was estranged or strained, we want our parents. We either want what we had, or we want what we always wanted to have in a parent.

It makes no difference, so I will say it again: Losing your parents is difficult, no matter what. I have learned much, changed much, hurt much, grieved much and continue in all these matters. I will never be the same.

I am writing this particular post because I need to share something that has been on my heart since Day 1, pretty much. I have often hesitated to write it, fearing it might sound bitter. I hope this one doesn't come across that way.

I now know that when my classmates and school friends — people with whom I once was close or spent much time with in school, sports, work or church — lost parents or a parent at far earlier ages than I did must have been as hurt by me as I have been by some of my former associates.

Here's why: I didn't "get it." I didn't understand the devastation of losing parents. I didn't consider that all support, any support from others but especially people they might have expected to respond in such a time would be and was eternally appreciated.

I failed to be a friend in several of my friends' lives, and for that, I will be forever regretful. If they noticed my absence, I am so sorry ... much more sorry than they might know, because now I do get it.

I hope to someday, maybe soon, make it right with those people who come to my mind immediately. And I know that besides those, God will make aware to me whomever else deserves an amends.

I realize there are all kinds of reasons people fail to attend funerals: conflicts, they live too far away, can't bear funerals, they were out of town, they didn't know until after the fact.  I've had all of those reasons myself. Some are quite legitimate, but really, we can generally work around most.

While attending a funeral for a friend truly might be out of the question, never is there an excuse for not offering condolences or a kind word. Ever.

I'm not sure I failed in that, but probably I did, being human and all. If I did, I will do my best to make that right, as well.

I have so much appreciated all the love and support and kindness people have shown me during this time. People came out of the woodwork! People I didn't know. People I had lost contact with. Even people I knew don't care that much for me. Just people everywhere. That is the best feeling in the world. It's also so important during the early grieving process, and especially as the grieving continues and peoples' lives go on.

Remember that. Let's try to be there for our friends and associates. A kind word and the smallest gestures travel miles.  Attending funerals in support of families and in remembrance of the one who has passed is ... I have no words for that ... Let's just do it if we can.

My new favorite room in the house

Panorama of the newly decorated room. Notice Blaze photobombing with a bath.

The newly decorated room in our house holds significance for me. It has had many roles since we moved into our house about 14 years ago. Jordie and Hart shared it when they were little. Then Hart took it over when he reached middle school. Then Jordie took it when Hart went to college. And for a couple of months last year, Dorsey and I occupied it while Mom and Dad lived in our normal quarters.

It has remained Jordie's room all this time, but he has reached a stage (sadly) in his life in which baseball keeps him away. He doesn't and won't come home every weekend anymore. <sniff>

Since Hart had the room, it has not been repainted. Need I say how badly it needed it? I decided to overhaul it completely. I was tired of the "dark" decor before. I needed light and bright. I needed clean-looking. I wanted it to have the same blue and white color scheme (although not seascape) of the bathroom Dorsey and I had redone just the previous year.

I think I managed, so I'll show you in pictures. (I apologize for the arrangement. Blogger sucks at this!) This room is all about family and family history, inspired by Mom and Dad. :-)

This comforter and pillows had at one time been on my parents' bed.
The bedside table is part of the once-navy blue furniture that belonged to my dad's dad. Mom had painted it from its original blonde to navy. I repainted and put new hardware on it. I love the water lilies painting above the bed. 

I painted this once-unpainted TV stand red
many years ago. Here, I have repainted it.

I saw this cabinet a few weeks ago in a consignment
store. Had to have it for this room. 

This cabinet holds favorite children's books.
The bottom cabinet holds more books and photo boxes.

My Great Grandmother Cummins painted this lamp. It's Kim's. I'm just holding it for her.

This dressing table is now a mismatched distressed blue with Chippendale hardware. (I know, the styles don't go together.) Underneath the glass I have made a collage of old family photos, as far back as 1900. The bulk of the photos are currently in separated boxes that someday I intend to organize in photo albums. That's what Mom always wanted to do. Those photos are stored in this room, as well.  I didn't use the original mirror with this table. Didn't like it! The new one is from Kirkland's ... another mismatched, distressed blue.

The dresser, with another painted lamp, and a older family photo. 

Colored pencil drawing of a young Hart. (Sun shadow, sorry.)

Colored pencil drawing of a young Jordie.

The hope chest belonged to my dad's side of the family. It's art deco, not really my style, but it's family. The quilts also all are early 1900s from the Childress side of the family. Those cats on the top are actually a hooked rug I bought.

The oriental rugs for the room haven't arrived yet, and I'm sure I'll continue to change and refine as I go along. I need photos from Dorsey's side of the family to complete the family theme of this room. (Hint hint, Mary.)

Anyway, I've had a lot of fun and experienced many memories doing this room. I worried when doing it that it wasn't going to be the 18th Century style of our antiques business. I worried that the Chippendale hardware I was putting on the old but non-Chippendale furniture was stupid. But as I went along and enjoyed what I was doing with the things I have, I stopped worrying. I remembered a friend saying that she had heard from someone else in the decorator world that anything in your home that brings you joy should be in your home, regardless of matching or mismatching styles.

This now my favorite room in the house. It brings me joy.

Change change change change change ...

Yep, here I am sitting in the middle of the utility room floor, painting.
I'm trying to accommodate for our cats. That old carpet had to go!
I need something I can easily clean!!

Mom and Dad's house is scheduled to close this week or next. We had offers on it within a day of it going on the market. I really didn't expect that, but I suppose that's good if it's time. Obviously, it is. The house is going to what appears to be a nice young family who will bring life to this house my parents loved. (Thank you, God. And you know the funny thing? The husband of the family owns a lawn business. My parents adored and doted on — built — that backyard. I just know this family will make it even better. And Mom and Dad would be so happy.)

Selling our parents' house is the last big thing for Kim and me to do with their "things." As we have checked off each of these tasks, I have surprisingly found myself in deeper depression than in relief. There's finality in all of this. There's the absolute, "They aren't coming back!" in all of this. (I certainly understand why some people put these estate things on the back burner for years. Kim and I are just extremely task-oriented, and well ... property taxes aren't fun to pay, especially when they're for no good cause.)

New cabinet for the newly-redecorated Jordie room — which was once Hart's room.

I continue think to myself, "It wasn't suppose to be like this."

Because it wasn't. Not in my child-like mind. Sure, most people assume they will outlive their parents (and that's how it should be, for the sake of our parents), but when it happens, it's a huuuuuuuge shock. I mean, Mom and Dad should always be there, right?

So, here I am, in the remaining days of wrapping up Mom and Dad's estate, and taking care of my own.

The former Jordie/Hart bedroom is in the process of becoming a guest room.
I have repainted furniture (from my grandparents' that my mom repainted for Hart's room).
When it's all said and done, I'll share some pics.

Although I always knew this, the notion that I don't have control over much in my life finally began to sink in about three years ago.  This became more and more clear as my parents became ill and then passed. Life last year became a matter of "do what you gotta do today," and that was absolutely it.

Here we go again.

You know if you've followed my life/blog recently that Dorsey was laid off from his job a little more than a month ago. This is scary stuff. Yeah, I know God has the solution all worked out and it's all good. That doesn't mean I always appreciate God's timing. I'm like, "C'mon, God. I know you've got this, but can we have this joblessness thing end sooner rather than later? Thanks!"

The truth is, we don't know where Dorsey will end up, job-wise. Yes, I'm finally willing to move from Amarillo. But I don't want to. It's not necessarily Amarillo itself. I mean, Amarillo is what it is. It's my home, good and bad. So you know what that means ... But it's home.

And I love my house ... my home for the last 14 years. I'm finally getting it into the shape I want it to be in ... the shape that matches the things we have, plus our style. I'm finally furnishing and making this house exactly how I've imagined for a very long time. (OK, yeah, I have even bigger picture ideas, but let's start small.)

And now, we might (likely) have to move, just to follow a job that will insure our livelihoods for at least a little while longer.

Such irony.

All this stuff I'm doing now — the ONLY things I have control over each day — is either for us or for whomever buys this house in the event we are forced to move from Amarillo.

Oh, the metaphors for life and homes and houses and all that ...